Ignition: Day 3

Word Count: 18,364

Summary of Events:

Keiller and Dr. Carrigan stopped in the kitchen because Mrs. Wharton — from whom Keiller had rented a room until becoming Marshal — had made some food for him, but nothing for his prisoner, so Keiller sent Dr. Carrigan to deliver the food to her, as he did actually feel slightly nauseous, before going to bed, where he fell asleep faster than he'd expected. Rebekka was feeling quite bored in her cell, as there wasn't even any noise from the floor above to listen to, when Keiller brought her some food, which she ate gladly, although she didn't answer any of his questions, as she suspected he meant to use her answers to send her back from whence she'd come. Frustrated, Keiller went upstairs, where he felt the need to rest before continuing up to the bedroom, so he looked at the papers on his desk to see what he could work on while he was forbidden to leave the building, save for the outhouse . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Cyril’s feet strode up on the boardwalk. Keiller wasn’t sure how he could always hear Cyril coming, as his gait never seemed to be that unique when Keiller watched him walk, but there was something about the way Cyril walked that allowed Keiller to be able to tell whenever he was approaching on the boardwalk.

As a result, Keiller pivoted his chair to face the door before Cyril entered, and immediately his blood rose to a rolling boil, as he saw that the Acting Marshal badge was still pinned to Cyril’s vest.

“Take that off,” Keiller ordered. “You have no right to be wearing it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Cyril asked.

“My being in bed doesn’t dictate whether you get to wear that thing or not,” Keiller snapped. “Take it off.”

“You do know that Dr. Carrigan’s given you those orders for a reason,” Cyril said.

“That has no relevance to your wearing that badge!” Keiller exclaimed, frustrated at Cyril’s evasiveness — and at the fact that he was feeling drained again somewhat too.

“Your disobeying his orders,” Cyril said. “On one hand, why should I have to obey you if you’re not obeying him? And on the other, can we be sure that your disobeying of Dr. Carrigan’s orders won’t lead to your possibly dying? As I said, he’s given you those orders for a reason, and maybe that reason is to keep you alive so I don’t have to wear this.”

Keiller swore in frustration at Cyril. “I can’t possibly be at any risk of dying, considering where I was wounded.”

“You’re not a doctor, how do you know?” Cyril challenged. “Besides, you’ve looked colourless all day.”
“You are going to take that off,” Keiller said firmly. “And the sooner the better.”

Pushing to his feet, Keiller headed upstairs, seething with frustration almost more at his physical weakness than Cyril’s unwillingness to remove the Acting Marshal badge. He wasn’t as brawny as Cyril, but his leaner figure had never hampered him before, and he also had a visible height advantage over Cyril, but with his strength apparently all having fled out his wounds or something, he didn’t have the ability to use his fists to make Cyril do what he’d been ordered to.

Keiller removed his boots roughly and climbed back under the covers. The sun was still up, and likely to be up for awhile yet, even if it was much lower than it’d been when he’d first climbed into  bed, thus he didn’t undress fully yet, he just needed to rest a bit, and maybe then he’d have the strength to make Cyril do what he’d ordered him to.

If only he could’ve had seniority over Cyril, then he would have more argumentative high ground. Unfortunately, Cyril had been Farley’s deputy longer, and was also five years his senior, giving Cyril age and occupational seniority over Keiller, which always left him wanting in verbal arguments.

Sighing heavily — and wearily — Keiller closed his eyes and was, again, drawn swiftly into slumber.