Kael pedaled slowly along the gravel street, his green bicycle rattling slightly as it crossed the repaired section of the path.
He wasn’t in a rush, but he also didn’t want to waste ti.
Harbor’s pharmacy was only two shops down from Martha’s general store. The entire street, like most of the village, had an old-fashioned feel.
As Kael rolled to a stop in front of the pharmacy, he hopped off the bike and leaned it against the wall.
Inside, a man was behind the counter—about fifty, slightly round around the middle, wearing a tucked-in checkered shirt and wide glasses. His thinning white hair stuck out in tufts over his ears, and he had the look of soone who had worked here for most of his life.
The man looked up. "Morning," he said in a deep, unhurried voice.
Kael stepped forward. "Morning. I’m looking for malaria dicine."
The man gave him a sharp look, then raised an eyebrow. "You’re Kael, right?"
That made Kael pause. "Yes... Do I know you?"
The man shook his head and gave a small chuckle. "No, but a lot of folks around here know you. You live in the old Lancaster house, right?"
"I do. I’m Theodore Lancaster’s grandson."
The man’s expression softened at the na. "I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather. He wasn’t exactly a regular around here, but people rember him. But now..." The man hesitated. "Well, the news about your uncle’s disappearance—just saw it on the news last night. Sad business."
Kael blinked. "Wait—what? My uncle is missing?"
The man looked surprised. "You didn’t know? Thought it’d be the first thing your family told you. His na was... Damian, I think? They said he went missing yesterday evening. Last seen outside the city."
Kael frowned deeply. "No one told anything. My phone’s been off."
"Ah," the man nodded. "You can charge it here, if you want."
Kael hesitated, then pulled his phone from his pocket. "Thanks. That would help."
The man plugged it into a charger behind the counter, and Kael leaned over to check that it was working. The screen lit up slowly—battery nearly dead—but at least it was charging.
"Give it a minute," the man said. "Now, about that dicine... malaria, you said?"
"Yeah. I need a decent amount. Do you have any in stock?"
The man stepped away from the counter and motioned Kael to follow him toward a set of cabinets in the back. "I’ve got a fair bit. Not much demand in a place like this, but I try to keep so on hand, just in case. Help out, would you? My knees aren’t what they used to be."
"Of course," Kael said.
He followed the man down the narrow aisle, careful not to bump any shelves. The drawers were labeled in small handwritten script: Painkillers, Allergy, Digestive, Infection, and so on. The man crouched slowly in front of a tal drawer, keys jangling as he unlocked it.
He slid it open and began sorting through the boxes inside.
"These are artemisinin combination therapy—ACT for short. Standard three-day treatnt. It’s the good stuff. Still within expiry."
Kael leaned down beside him. "How much do you have?"
The man counted for a mont. "Let’s see... twenty boxes here. Plus a few older Chloroquine packs in the back, though most people don’t use that anymore unless it’s a last resort. Might be four or five of those."
Kael nodded. He did a quick calculation in his head. He needed to treat at least twenty people in the village—maybe more if the illness spread. But asking for enough doses for twenty patients at once would raise questions.
So he tried the next best thing.
"Actually..." he said casually, "Could I buy everything you’ve got? All the malaria stock?"
The pharmacist blinked at him through smudged glasses. "Everything?"
"Yes. All of it."
There was a pause.
"You live alone, don’t you?" the man asked, rubbing his chin.
Kael nodded. "That’s right."
The man frowned slightly. "And you’re buying enough dicine to treat an entire sumr camp?"
Kael scratched the back of his head. "I just don’t want to keep coming back. You know how far my place is. And it’s a killer cycling in this sun. I figured I’d stock up all at once."
He offered a sheepish smile. The excuse felt a little weak even to his own ears.
The man stared at him for a mont longer.
Then, surprisingly, he nodded. "Can’t argue with that. Hell, I hate walking to the mailbox so days. Alright. Twenty ACT boxes, plus four Chloroquine. Twenty-four total. I’ll round it to a flat $100 for the lot. Fair?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Very fair. Thanks."
As Harbor packed the dicine into a small cardboard box, he added, "You know... if you’re doing errands this often, why not buy a car? I’ve got an old one. Just taking up space in the garage."
Kael blinked. "You’re selling a car?"
"Yeah. Old Land Cruiser. 2008 model. Runs fine, I just don’t use it anymore. You interested?"
Kael hesitated. He hadn’t driven in a while, but he had a license from college, when he’d worked part-ti as a driver. A car would be more than convenient—it might be necessary, depending on what was coming.
"Sure," Kael said. He took his phone out of the charger and put it in his pocket.
"Alright. Let’s see the car."
"Garage’s out back. Co on."
They stepped outside and circled behind the shop. The garage door creaked as the man pulled it open, revealing the car.
A grey Toyota Land Cruiser Prado sat neatly inside. The surface had a light shine—recently washed. A faint sll of soap and oil clung to the air.
Kael walked around the vehicle slowly. "You washed it?"
"Yeah," the man said, wiping his hands with a rag. "I do this almost every ti I have free ti."
Kael walked around the vehicle slowly, checking for dents, looking at the tread depth on the tires, even peering under the chassis.
"You want to test the engine?"
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