“The fuck was that screaming?” Sol whispers again. “What were they doing in there?” They’d pushed their way through the hole Oliver had made, down another short tunnel and into this storeroom or whatever it is. On the other side of the door, a man had been shrieking in agony, for what felt like hours. “We should have stopped it, Oliver. We should have stopped it,” Sol says.
“That’s not on us, boy,” Oliver murmurs, though he’d been equally unnerved by the sound. “We don’t know that man. We got to focus on Elizabeth. Pay mind to what we came here to do. So we’re not going anywhere. Not yet. We’re going to wait, like Alexander said. Give it time. We go busting in there now, who knows what might be waiting for us?” He looks over at Alexander, who is shivering beside him. “Besides, the doctor needs a bit more time to get himself back together. He’ll know what to do after that.”
Alexander needs more than time, by the look of it. Dr Potter hasn’t even been lucid for a while now. At some point, while Oliver had quietly been expanding the hole in the wall, Alexander had slipped into unconsciousness, still shivering and coughing. From time to time his eyes would open blankly and he’d mutter something but, wherever he was, it wasn’t with them. Blood dripped from his nose nearly constantly, until Oliver tore off a little bit of his shirt, making two small twists and putting them in Alexander’s nostrils to staunch the flow. Now, he puts the back of his hand to Potter’s forehead, feeling the feverish heat there. Opening his bottle of Sagwa, he pours a little into Dr Potter’s mouth, tilting his chin up and doing his best to get the man to swallow it. Instead, Alexander merely coughs it out.
“Jesus, he doesn’t look good, Oliver,” Sol whispers. They need Dr Potter; if there’s a plan, now, he’s the only one who has it. Oliver doesn’t seem to know what they’re going to do, and Sol himself can’t think of a damn thing either. The fucking screaming from the other room hadn’t helped him to relax any, either, come to that. What had they done to that guy in there? Sol tries not to think about what they might have already done to Elizabeth. They should have fucking gotten here quicker, he knows; they’ve wasted too much time already. That screaming has made him feel hot and jittery, but it’s also brought his anger on. Maybe it’s just easier to be angry than terrified, he reckons.
“What the fuck are we going to do, Oliver?”
“I told you, Sol. Wait. Alex will be feeling better in a while, after he’s had some more rest, and we can finish this up. That man is cunning, don’t you worry.” Oliver hopes his voice sounds more confident than he feels. What are they going to do? Stupid gun-happy farm-boy and a big ol’ dumb nigger, just busting in? They going to tear down the temple like Sampson? They have two old pistols, a prybar. Oliver doesn’t even remember if he knows how to shoot a gun and Sol had made a mess of it the last time around. Alexander has strategies in him; he can figure this all out. On his own, Oliver doesn’t know how to see it through.
“Then what?” Sol whispers, checking the rounds in his Colt yet again.
Oliver just stares at Dr Potter. Come on, old man. He pulls out his battered pocket watch, checking the time, trying to forget whatever has happened on the other side of that door.
They wait.
They huddle in the storeroom for a long time after the screaming had finally, mercifully stopped, after the muffle of muted conversation and the sounds of feet going up stairs had turned back into silence. There is no further sound, no light, only their own breathing and the occasional skitter of a rat.
They listen at the door until, eventually, Oliver decides that enough time has passed, near as he can tell, anyway. That what they need to do can’t be put off any longer, and they stand up.