CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Harmon felt like shit the next morning. He rolled over, staring at the small bedside clock and moaned. He never slept this late. He sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the sides of his head, the headache overwhelming him.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Slowly he stood and made his way to the sink, drinking two full glasses of water and taking some aspirin along with it.
“Coffee. I just need coffee” he mumbled.
He started the coffee pot and then went to the bathroom, took at quick hot shower, and returned to the living room in clean clothes feeling an inkling better.
With the hot coffee in his hand, he stepped out onto the porch to a clear, cold winter morning.
Normally unfazed by the temperatures, he felt a chill creep into him and shook.
Opening the door, he grabbed a jacket and wrapped himself tight.
Still cold, he took the quilt that Shirley made off the back of the chair and set it over his lap.
“That’s better,” he said to himself. “Great. Now you’re talking to yourself.”
He wondered how Micah was doing this morning.
He’d go check his cabin later if he didn’t hear from him.
It was a shame losing Mack so suddenly. He remembered seeing a package coming out to him and he wondered if it was the usual monthly supply of coffee, filters, and powdered creamer. He should have delivered it himself.
Just as he was about to stand and go back inside, he heard the low rumble of an outboard motor.
“Must be Micah,” he whispered to himself.
Instead, a larger boat came around the bend with five men standing in it. These weren’t ordinary men. They were big. Bigger than big. They had serious expressions on their faces and for a moment, Harm considered grabbing his gun. But it was too late. They were right at his dock.
“Help you boys?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes, sir. Are you Harmon Blanchet?”
“Who wants to know?” he asked.
“The entire parish,” said Hex. Harm stared at the men as they got off the boat and walked up his dock.
“The parish? What on earth are you talkin’ about?” he asked.
“Mr. Blanchet, my name is Cam Dougall and these men and I work together for a security company called Gray Wolf Legacy or just Legacy.”
“Alright, just Legacy, what does that have to do with me?”
“Sir, you’ve been sick for quite a while now, right?” He eyed the men suspiciously but nodded. “Sir, everyone has been sick. We’re working with the clinic on River Road to try and find out where the virus started. They’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“All you boys came out here for me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Quentin. “As Cam said, we all work together. We need to get you to put on a mask and gloves and come with us, sir.”
“You a doctor?” he asked.
“I was a medic and now I’m a registered nurse.” He nodded again, wobbling as he stood there in front of them. “Whoa, maybe you take a seat.”
“Yeah. It’s funny I’ve been thinking this is the worst allergy attack I’ve ever had. Been going on for weeks now. I was feeling better a few days ago, then came out here and started feeling worse again.”
Quentin looked around at the cabin and then sniffed the air.
“Do you guys smell that?” he asked.
Hex, Luke, Cam and Eric all sniffed the air like bloodhounds. Harmon stared at them, then sniffed the air as well.
“Oh, y’all are smelling the wood tar.”
“Wood tar?” asked Eric.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s been on the property for as long as I can remember. Works beautifully to leakproof the roof and walls. I thought it was gone a few years back but it started bubbling’ up again and I’ve been using it.”
“Sir, have you ever had cancer of any sort?” asked Quentin.
“Me? No. My wife, Shirley, she died of breast cancer.”
“Quentin, what is wood tar?” asked Luke.
“It’s produced when destructive distillation of pine or other wood occurs. It’s a dark, viscous liquid composed of phenols, cresols, and guaiacols. Although it’s used in a lot of daily household products, including meat preservation, it can be toxic to human cells and can cause damage.
“I think because he’s been exposed to it for so long, he may have developed a tolerance of some sort and that’s why he’s still alive.”
“But it’s not contagious is it?” asked Eric.
“Normally, no, you wouldn’t carry it to someone else. They would have to be exposed to it. I think it’s possible that Harmon’s own cells mutated this somehow and it’s changed.”
“What do we do?” asked Cam.
“Get him back to the clinic where they can look at him more closely.”
“Well? Was he right?” asked Luke staring at the faces of their medical team.
“Yes,” said Layla
“And no,” said Suzette.
“You all are killing me,” frowned Luke. “It’s not the wood tar?”
“It is but it does have something else in it. He’s been using it to repair his roof, his logs, anything that leaks and I’m sure it works for that but something in that soil is changing it.”
“How do we figure out what that is?” asked Quentin.
“I have some thoughts,” said Hezekiah coming into the room. “Forgive the intrusion but it’s quite miraculous that I can hear your thoughts from across the property.”
“It’s alright, Hezekiah. What are your thoughts?” asked Kennedy.
“The smell on the gentlemen was insanely familiar to me. I was having trouble placing where I’d smelled it before and then I remembered. The witch.”
“The witch? You mean, like the witch that cursed you into that mirror?” asked Luke.
“Yes. The very same. Remember I said she was angry that I wouldn’t marry her daughter. I met them when she called for a physician to come and see her daughter, and I recall that smell and something else.”