Untouchable. Stephanie Doyle

same thing about you.”

      “Mine is not so much a skill, I think. However, I am grateful I did not kill him.”

      Sister Peter raised a single eyebrow, a trick that fascinated Lilith. “You seem awfully concerned with our new patient. You did hear me when I said I pulled a bullet fragment from his leg.”

      “I heard you. And I know how the wound was caused. I am not concerned for him. I am just…”

      Lilith had no answer for how she felt. He was a strong man. A handsome man, too. She supposed if she had to be honest with her friend she would say that he attracted her on some level. Which was strange. She wouldn’t have imagined that she could ever feel such an elemental connection with another person.

      Attraction was useless to her. It had no hope.

      It was one of the reasons she knew that although she studied with the monks on the path to enlightenment she could never consider herself a Buddhist nun. To do so would mean practicing celibacy, one of the five precepts. For those on the path this meant sacrifice. For Lilith it meant survival.

      Not that such a thing mattered. The title of nun had been lost to her long ago when she had broken the first precept: do no harm. She’d broken that precept many times.

      Sister Peter often tried to convince Lilith that what she did to end suffering or what she did by accident could not be considered a sin. But dead was still dead to those she touched. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but it was a result of her actions. For that she knew she could never fully walk the path to true enlightenment. At least not in this lifetime.

      There was, however, always the next.

      “I am merely glad he lived,” Lilith insisted. “That neither one of us was responsible for killing him.”

      Sister Peter smiled. “Amen.”

      A noise penetrated their conversation, forcing Lilith’s head upward. She instantly identified the sound of machine rather than animal.

      “Sounds like we are going to have more visitors.”

      “Hmm. It’s been a while since she’s been here,” Sister Peter noted as she also studied the sky, waiting for the helicopter to catch up with the sound. “Several months. I thought maybe she was gone for good.”

      Lilith took in the sister’s worrisome expression. “That sounds more like wishful thinking on your part. Do you not like our benefactress?”

      Sister Peter folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “It seems petty, doesn’t it? After all, without her money we wouldn’t be able to afford the multiple-drug therapy that’s worked so well for those infected. Especially the children. But…”

      “But?”

      “There’s something about her, Lilith. Don’t you think it’s odd the way she seems to be so fascinated by you?”

      Lilith shrugged. She hadn’t really considered it. It was clear to any newcomer that she was set apart from all the other groups. Not a nun or a monk or a villager. She imagined it was natural to be curious as to who she was, what role she served.

      “I believe she thinks I am some kind of tribal healer. Of course, she does not understand how I make the medicine that I dispense.”

      “Doesn’t she? The way she follows your every step when she’s here. The questions she’s always asking the sisters and the villagers about you. For a woman who is simply supposed to be doing good works with her money as she claims to be, her actions feel very…deliberate.”

      “She never stays for long,” Lilith pointed out. “She will come and go and we will have that much more money as a result of her visit.”

      Together Lilith and Sister Peter headed back to the village. The incoming helicopter caused the uproar it normally did. The children, desperate for distraction from their monotonous days, ran to the clearing that had been carved out for supply drops.

      Supplies and Jacquelyn Webb’s helicopter.

      A woman with apparently unlimited resources, Jackie owned the helicopter that flew her from Bomdila, the nearest city, into the heart of the jungle. A self-proclaimed philanthropist, she heard about the leper colony during a plea from the Franciscan nuns at her local church. Urged to act, she set up funds that allowed for a continual flow of the necessary medicines to treat leprosy in the tiny village. One day she decided that sending money wasn’t enough. She needed to come and meet the people infected with the horrible disease in order to determine how else she could help.

      That was the story she told Lilith on her first visit. At the time Lilith saw no reason to question the older woman’s sincerity. However, now that Sister Peter had brought it to her attention she had to admit that Jackie very rarely showed any interest in the sick or even in the progress her money had made possible.

      Instead her interest was in Lilith. How she’d come to be here. Why she’d chosen to stay. How she prepared the medicine that so many of those infected said took away the pain.

      It was impossible to keep Lilith’s condition from those she lived with; too many precautions were needed. Although the sisters had often tried to convince her to find medical treatment for what they called her disease, they never pressed the issue or discussed it with outsiders.

      Despite her financial contributions, Jackie was an outsider.

      When Jackie asked about her strange garb, Lilith played it off as a uniform chosen by some women practicing Buddhism. When Jackie offered to take her out of the village, to see some of the other sights of India, Lilith simply declined without explanation.

      By the time they reached the landing site the children were crowded together to watch the show. As the helicopter began its descent into the thick foliage that threatened daily to overtake the man-made landing pod, they waved and danced about. Blades rotated so quickly it was nearly impossible to see them.

      The helicopter’s wheels touched down and Lilith saw that the pilot was the only passenger. Jackie hadn’t come, but her helicopter had.

      The pilot emerged from the machine. On his shoulder he carried a satchel, and after maneuvering his way through the children who were all pleading for rides, he spotted Lilith. He paused for a second to study her.

      Finally he walked directly to her. “You’re Lilith?”

      Lilith took a step back. She didn’t recognize his accent, but he wasn’t Indian.

      “I am.”

      “This is yours.” He slipped the satchel’s strap off his shoulder and lowered it carefully to the dirt in front of her feet. Then he stepped away and once again threaded his way through the clamoring children. He got back in the chopper and almost instantly he was lifting off from the jungle floor.

      “What was that about?” Sister Peter asked as she came up behind Lilith.

      “I have no idea.” Kneeling, Lilith inspected the satchel. She flipped open a flap and pulled out another smaller black bag. Inside that she found a thin black square that she recognized. Jackie used to bring it with her every time she traveled. She said it was so she could stay connected to the outside world.

      She showed it to Sister Peter.

      “A laptop? She sent you her computer.”

      Lilith shrugged and then reached into the satchel again. This time she pulled out a small box and an envelope. She opened the box and pulled back when she saw a fat gold spider sitting on black velvet. Shaped like a black widow, it was incredibly detailed. Small head, thin, wiry legs and a two-inch-long round bottom. Despite it being a replica, Lilith could almost feel its deadly aura. Her fingers trembled as she touched it.

      “Not exactly my taste in jewelry,” Sister Peter noted. “Even if I hadn’t taken a vow of poverty.”

      Lilith pulled it from the box and saw that the spider was attached to a gold chain. She looked at it quizzically.

      “Do