Chapter 7
Angelo slept surprisingly well that night.
The events of the previous day kept returning to his mind, particularly his encounter with Maya at the waterfall. There was something about her that he couldn't quite understand. She was confident and playful at the Eagle's Beak, quiet and respectful at the boarding house, and completely different again when she was alone in the wilderness.
He found himself smiling at the thought.
Then he remembered her warning about returning to town separately.
Perhaps she was right. South River was a small place, and people here seemed to know everything about everyone.
By morning, however, Maya was nowhere to be seen.
It was Sis Dolly who brought his breakfast and bath water.
"Where's Maya?" Angelo asked casually.
The old woman looked at him for a moment.
"She has work to do."
"Oh."
He tried to hide his disappointment.
After eating his porridge, Angelo prepared for work.
He reached the mine shortly after seven and spent the entire morning in his office, going through reports and making notes about everything he had observed since his arrival.
At noon, he decided to return to the boarding house for lunch.
The sun was already scorching when he stepped outside.
He had barely walked a few yards when he noticed a crowd gathered outside the Suds and Grill.
Something was wrong.
Angelo quickened his pace.
As he approached, he heard people talking in hushed voices.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered him.
He pushed his way through the crowd.
A body lay on the ground outside the bar, covered with a blanket.
Angelo's heart jumped.
For one terrifying moment, his first thought was Maya.
He moved closer.
Then he saw the boots sticking out from underneath the blanket.
They weren't Maya's.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
His attention shifted to the people surrounding the body.
Russell was among them.
The mine manager looked directly at Angelo.
Something in his expression made Angelo uneasy.
Before Angelo could ask him anything, Russell quietly slipped away from the crowd.
Angelo watched him go.
"What the hell was that about?"
The owners of the Suds and Grill came outside and began pushing people away from the entrance.
A dead body at the front door wasn't exactly good for business.
Angelo remained nearby, listening as the townspeople pieced together what had happened.
The dead man was a stranger.
He had been seen around the Eagle's Beak the previous night and had apparently been told to leave town.
Nobody knew exactly where he had gone afterward.
According to the people gathered there, he had reappeared sometime during the night with serious wounds all over his body.
Then, shortly after arriving at the Suds and Grill, he had collapsed and died.
The body was eventually loaded onto a truck and taken to the neighboring town, where the sheriff's office and mortuary were located.
Angelo watched the truck disappear down the road.
Something about the whole incident didn't feel right.
He returned to the boarding house and ate lunch.
As he prepared to head back to the mine, he found Russell waiting at the door.
"Can I have a quick word with you, boss?"
Angelo nodded.
They stepped into the office.
Russell closed the door behind them.
"I am concerned about your safety here."
Angelo frowned.
"My safety?"
"This incident wasn't random."
"How so?"
Russell lowered his voice.
"The dead man was carrying binoculars, high-resolution lenses, a camera and a sniper rifle. There were also tools among his belongings that suggest he wasn't here for anything innocent."
Angelo stared at him.
"And what does that have to do with me?"
Russell hesitated.
"He had been following you."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"What?"
"We believe he had been watching you for some time."
Russell reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file.
He placed it on the desk.
Angelo opened it.
The first photograph made his stomach tighten.
It showed him in town.
Another showed him outside the boarding house.
Another had been taken inside the Eagle's Beak.
Then he saw one that made him stop.
It showed Maya holding him up after he had drunk himself senseless.
There were more.
Photographs of him walking around town.
Photographs of him entering the mine.
Photographs from the previous day.
Even one showing him returning from the hills with Maya.
Angelo slowly turned the pages.
"Someone has been watching me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That is what we don't know."
Angelo closed the file.
He wasn't frightened.
Not yet.
But something had changed.
Until now, he had believed his problems were the mine, his mother and the Blue Stomach sickness.
Now he had another problem.
Someone wanted to know where he went and what he did.
And that person had apparently been close enough to watch him without being noticed.
Angelo looked at Russell.
"I need more information about the sickness."
Russell nodded.
"Of course."
"Get someone from the sickbay. I want everything they have. Reports, observations, deaths, symptoms, anything."
"Right away."
Russell left.
A few minutes later, there was a knock.
"Come in."
The door opened and a short, skinny man entered carrying a thick stack of documents under one arm.
He looked tired, with a permanent-looking moustache that did little to improve his appearance.
"Doctor Mark Durmont," he introduced himself.
Angelo gestured toward the chair.
"Sit down, Doctor."
Durmont placed the documents on the desk.
Angelo looked at the pile.
"How much of this is actual medical research?"
Durmont gave him an uncomfortable smile.
"Very little."
"Then tell me what you know."
The doctor took a deep breath.
"The Blue Stomach sickness has been spreading for some time. We know how it progresses, but we don't know its exact cause."
"How is it transmitted?"
"We don't know."
"Water?"
"Possibly."
"Food?"
"Possibly."
"Air?"
"Again, possibly."
Angelo leaned back.
"So you don't know how it spreads."
"No, sir."
"And you don't know where it came from."
"No."
"Then what do you know?"
Durmont opened one of the files.
"We know that once symptoms appear, the patient deteriorates quickly. The blue discoloration usually begins around the abdomen. Fever follows. Then severe weakness, vomiting and eventually organ failure."
Angelo's expression hardened.
"How many people have died?"
Durmont looked down at his papers.
"Several thousand."
The number hit Angelo harder than he expected.
"And you still don't know what is causing it?"
"No."
"How long before it gets completely out of control?"
The doctor hesitated.
"If the current rate of infection continues, we could see the entire town overwhelmed within weeks."
Silence filled the office.
Angelo looked toward the stack of reports.
"Leave everything with me."
Durmont stood.
"Mr. Black, there is something else."
"What?"
The doctor hesitated.
"We have noticed something unusual."
Angelo looked up.
"What?"
"Almost every serious case appears to have some connection to the mine."
Angelo's eyes narrowed.
"Connection how?"
"We haven't established that yet."
"Then establish it."
Durmont nodded and left.
Angelo sat alone.
The mine.
The sickness.
The dead stranger.
The photographs.
And now the possibility that the disease itself might somehow be connected to the operation.
He opened the first medical report.
For the first time since arriving in South River, Angelo realized that he might not simply be managing a troubled mine.
He might be standing in the middle of something much bigger than he had ever imagined.