After the men departed with the jungle man, Tim questioned the guard about the man he needed to see to get the situation put right.
"I know him," the guard answered. "He will expect a large bribe."
Tim didn't like the sound of that. The expedition was already existing on a shoestring budget. Perhaps it would be better to cut their losses and not go to the trouble of trying to regain custody of the jungle man. After all, they'd organized an expedition to collect and catalog relics, not explore oddities of local anthropology.
"I'll need to consult with Mr. Winchester," Tim said. "In his grandfather's absence, I suppose he is nominally in charge of the expedition."
He knew that Richard had pulled every string within reach to join the expedition for the specific purpose of studying the jungle man. Richard had long had an interest in stories of feral individuals raised away from civilization by animals. Tim didn't really consider it a worthwhile scientific endeavor to spend much time on something that seemed more suited to headlines screaming across the front of a tabloid.
"I'll bring a Jeep around for you," the guard offered.
•••••
At the clinic, the guard picked up a well-worn magazine and sat himself on a chair in the lobby while Tim made his way toward the reception's desk to ask whether he could visit with his friend.
The woman behind the desk scanned a patient list and immediately looked concerned when she realized the name of the patient Tim wanted to see.
"Is there something wrong?" Tim asked, hoping that Richard hadn't been seriously injured in the wild man's attack.
"We've been keeping him sedated," the woman explained. "He has been exhibiting erratic behavior, so we thought it best."
"Why don't you go back and see him," she said. "Room 122. I'll send the doctor to give you a full report."
Tim nodded, becoming more worried about Richard by the moment. He made his way through double doors and walked down a corridor, scanning for Room 122. He was approaching the door when he heard shouts and a tray of hospital food came flying out the door. Richard ducked, but the tray sailed harmlessly past him and crashed on the opposite wall.
He stepped inside the room and saw two orderlies holding down his friend as a nurse injected him in his forearm. Richard's thrashing slowly subsided and the two strong orderlies gave Tim a simple nod as they left the room.
"What the hell was going on?" Tim asked as the nurse scribbled a note on Richard's chart.
She tried to keep things light. "I suppose the patient didn't like his lunch."
"Is he OK?" Tim hurried to the side of the bed and noticed that Richard was naked below a thin sheet. "Why's he not wearing anything?"
"We've tried, but he keeps tearing off his clothing," she said. "He shreds any hospital gown like its made of paper."
Richard's green eyes appeared to fasten on Tim and he halfway raised an arm before he let it fall back to the bed.
"How are you feeling, Richard?"
Richard shook his head. "No good," he whispered. "Want back."
"You should eat your lunch instead of hurling your tray out of the room," Tim tried humor. "I know hospital food can be pretty bad..."
Richard reached under the thin sheet and grasped his cock right in front of Tim and the nurse. "Miss big feel good snake," he said sadly.
"Richard, stop that," Tim said and pulled his friend's hand away. "I need to discuss something with you."
Richard's head sank back on the pillow. "He'll stay awake," the nurse said as she made her departure. "I gave him a relaxant, not something to knock him out."
Once they were alone, Tim gave the condensed version of the incident when the men came and confiscated the jungle man. "I know you've had your mind set on researching him, but it looks like it will take a lot of red tape and bribes to get him back. I'm thinking we should just cut our losses and..."
"Bad man lie," Richard said and tried to sit up in the bed only to have Tim push him back down onto the pillow.
"Don't get excited," Tim said. He started to say more, but the doctor arrived at that moment. After introductions were made, Tim cut to the heart of the matter and asked what was wrong.
"Well, that's the puzzling aspect of your friend's case," he said. "There isn't anything wrong. We've done numerous tests and scans. There are no obvious signs of injury or trauma. He had a few scratches and he had received an unsafe amount of sedative back at your expedition's camp in the incident, but we treated him for that."
"Could he have hit his head when he fell?"
"We've done brain scans," the doctor said. "Of course, we are somewhat limited. A larger facility in the capital could conduct a more extensive scan, but I really don't think they would find anything. My best guess is this is some response to emotional trauma, not a physical one."
As the doctor and Tim talked, Richard listened with a dull look in his normally bright eyes. He lifted a hand and inserted one finger into his left nostril.
"Richard!" Tim watched in dismay.
The doctor grimaced in distaste, too. "There's actually no reason to keep him here any longer," he said. "Since you are here, if you'll sign some paperwork, I will start the discharge process for your friend."
"But he's not behaving like himself at all," Tim objected.
"I'd suggest getting your friend home and into some therapy with a trained psychiatrist," the doctor said. "I'm afraid we don't really have any available locally."
Tim finally relented with a sigh. The entire expedition looked like it was becoming an unmitigated disaster.
"I'll prescribe some pills that should help control his behavior, at least until you can get him home."
"Thanks, doctor," Tim said, glancing back toward Richard and blushing when he saw that his friend had his hand back on his cock.