The dust in the air was heavy after the stampede of mechanical beasts. The townspeople began collecting and picking up pieces of animal machinery to be recycled or repurposed.
Coughing and waving his hand through the dusty air, Drake asked, "Does that kind of thing happen often?" as he followed Bull toward the saloon.
"Not really." Bull grimaced, walking across the street. "But it's happening more and more often. More bounties are being posted in the Sheriff's office every day."
"Do you…'Cough' know why… 'cough' it's happening… 'cough' so much?" Drake tried to keep up, but a fit of coughing started to overtake him, forcing him to bend over on the side of the plank walkway, coughing profusely.
"You okay there, Doc?" Bull paused, kneeling next to him, genuinely concerned for Drake's sudden fit.
"I haven't felt good all day but 'cough'… I don't know." He managed between deep, guttural coughs. He stood up, his face pale. "The coughing stopped, but now I feel like… I'm gonna…" His face turned green as he grabbed his gut.
"Doc, you sure don't look so good." Bull stood up and backed away, out of the "blast zone."
"I don't feel so good, Bull…" Drake said, leaning over and heaving, spilling all his stomach contents onto the wooden planks.
"Oh, son! Gross!" Bull leaped back in disgust, then sudden worry came over him.
On the ground, instead of typical stomach contents, there was greenish-yellow bile, profusely dusted with black pepper-like specks. It was as if someone had forced Drake to down an entire jar of ground black pepper or coffee grounds.
Drake gasped for air, on his hands and knees, and looked down at his puddle of mess. "Oh no…" His voice was filled with horrific panic.
"You eat a jar of coffee or pepper while I wasn't lookin', son?" Bull asked, thoroughly confused.
"It's not… It's not." Drake tried to collect himself and stand up. "It's not coffee or pepper… It's my internal nanites…"
"Your what in the huh?" Bull asked, bewildered.
"Internal nanites. My immune system was replaced with millions of tiny robots that kill any disease, infection, virus, even cancer cells. Everyone from my timeline gets an injection at birth." Drake explained, wiping his mouth on his new shirt. "And it seems… all mine are dead or deactivated…"
"Doc, you're burnin' up," Bull noted, resting the back of his hand on Drake's forehead.
"I have never felt like this before, Bull…" Drake gasped and panted. "If I ever got sick, the nanites would kick in and, ten to fifteen minutes later, I'd be fine. It's how I could survive in other timelines and live through their ambient diseases… But…" Drake could barely sit up, much less elucidate his condition.
Bull knew he needed to act quickly. He knelt down and easily hoisted Drake onto his shoulders. "You need a medic, and I know the best one this side of the Mississippi."
Bull whistled loudly, and a taxi automaton horse quickly strode up to him. Bull loaded Drake onto the saddle and sat behind him, cradling him as they began their ride.
"Hold on to me tight, Doc," Bull whispered. "These ain't your typical steeds."
Drake, looking like death, gripped Bull's bulky arms with what strength he could muster.
Bull held onto the reins tightly, and with a stout cowboy's "Hyah!" the automaton horse shot off at a full gallop, over 80 miles per hour, down the dusty road.
---
The automaton raced down the road at blinding speed, down the mountain road and into the river-carved canyon, to a small settlement embedded into the mountainside—a city of sandstone houses built into the mountain itself.
The Puebloan people were still alive and thriving in this timeline, and their legendary mountain-carved city was bustling with activity.
Bull slowed the automaton horse to a trot as he entered town, piloting the mechanical horse with purpose as he drove through the city.
The tribespeople smiled and waved as a familiar, friendly face rode through their town. Bull was a common sight in the town, and he knew that the best healers, guides, and trackers were among them.
Bull came to a halt in front of a small hut, and a middle-aged woman and her pre-teen boy ran out to greet him.
"Mr. Blackwood?" she inquired. She had long, flowing raven black hair and was dressed in her native colorful woven garb, with a touch of modern tech on her wrists and neck. "What brings you by unannounced so suddenly?" Then she saw Drake and his pale green complexion. "Oh my, your new boy doesn't look so good, Bull!" She hurried up to the horse and told her son, "Get examination room 1 ready, and tell your grandma that we have a sick patient to be examined, stat!"
"Greetings, Amaxa," Bull leaped off the horse and hoisted Drake over his arms. "He's new to our area, and he suddenly came down with whatever it is," he explained, following the woman into the small clinic.
Drake moaned with discomfort, his eyes shut, and limbs draped over Bull's arms.
Inside the sandstone hut was high-tech equipment for that era, with steam and valve-powered scanning and medical devices, as well as alembics, beakers, and burners of every shape and size.
"When did the symptoms start?" Amaxa asked as she guided them into the rear room, where she cleared the copper examination table, and Bull gently laid Drake on it.
"He said he felt bad all day," Bull pointed to some small black specks near Drake's mouth. "But that's not the weird thing, Amaxa. He puked up a can full of these black specs just before he keeled over."
Amaxa put on her examination goggles, flipped multiple lenses, and activated the examination light on her temple. "Hi, sir. Can you hear me? My name is Amaxa. What's yours?" Her cordial bedside manner rang as she performed the initial examination of Drake's senses.
With a labored moan, Drake replied, "Doctor Drake Voss… and I think I caught whatever is most common for this ecosystem… for which I have no immunity…"
Impressed by his self-diagnosis, Amaxa checked his wrist pulse with her hands and his heartbeat with a stethoscope. "Well, good thing you're a doctor. What else can you tell me?"
Drake tried to reply, but he was too weakened by whatever bug he caught.
Intrigued by the black specks on his mouth, she removed a small sample and picked up a small vial. "If you say you have no immunity, then I'm going to get a blood sample and see if I can identify whatever it is you don't have an immunity to."
Amaxa withdrew a small sample of Drake's blood from his fingertips and left the room to conduct her tests.
Almost passed out on the examination table, Drake found his hand being gripped tightly by Bull's large, burly hands. As he opened one eye the slightest, he saw Bull sitting by his side, genuine fear, dread, and worry all over his face.
---
A few moments later, Amaxa returned with a very puzzled and concerned look.
Bull looked up, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong, Amaxa? Tell me."
Shaking her head curiously, she looked at Drake and said, "Dr. Voss… How is it that you have no white blood cells or immune system... at all?"