The trap (1)
Lia excused herself from Jeremiah and went to do her task when rumbled sound echoed from the direction of the tents used by the Unseen.

The sound of footsteps broke the stillness of the night as it came nearer to their camp. Lia jumped at the sudden onslaught of shouts and blood, lots of blood, around them. Injured men came toppling one after another.

Lia moved back to her previous spot with Jeremiah, her eyes never leaving the incoming wave of people. She felt the tensed air that surrounded Jeremiah as the physician met the first wave of patients. She moved, albeit belatedly, catching a man who almost crashed face down on the ground. There were still more of them coming.

She recognized these men as the ones who belonged to the scouting team. They were the first one to leave the manor and the first to check the perimeter for any signs of the enemies. But they were not the only ones coming in. There were women and children of varying ages. The youngest Lia saw was around seven years of age.

The rest of the camp roared into life with people moving to and fro, helping the victims. Some even took it upon themselves to create makeshift beds like the ones they made for the patients back at the manor.

“It’s a trap! It’s a trap!”

“Beware of the smoke!”

That was what these men kept on shouting to anyone willing to listen. It was hard to do otherwise as they continued saying the same words over and over. A cold sweat rolled over Lia’s forehead, the foreboding feeling that she kept on ignoring earlier came back. She met Jeremiah’s eyes and he wore what Lia thought was confusion and alertness on his face, something she was sure that mirrored the look on her own. But that did not stop their hands from moving and putting gauzes on the injured.

She assisted Jeremiah with the patients. As her hand touched one of them, she removed them right away as if she held a burning iron. Their skin was blistering hot.

“They have a high fever,” she said. She remembered this kind of fever as the ones the townsfolk experienced.

Jeremiah managed a grunt but otherwise remained busy checking the eyes and the mouth of the patient for other signs.

Lia tried other patients and it was that same burning feeling.

“Beware of the smoke!” The patient she was tending to grunted in his half-delirious state.

Lia had an epiphany right then. The smoke, the fever… it was the same illness the townsfolk had. She was not sure, of course. It was her first time hearing about the smoke. But that sickness and the gin made from hell came from the Unseen and they were dealing with the same organization now so it would not be a far-fetched idea to connect the two.

Lia’s gut twisted painfully. Just how far would this group go to wreak havoc, to wreak lives?

Someone groaned loudly and it was like a jolt in Lia’s brain. “I’m going to prepare the medicines,” she shouted to Jeremiah as she ran.

She hurried to their tent and began preparing the medicine. If it was the same illness, then the same antidote might work. If it didn’t… she shook her head. She could not — would not allow herself to think of that. It had to work. Or all of them was doomed.