“Fever’s over 104,” Anna said. “She vomited and had a fever seizure.”
“Has she had them before?” Holly asked.
“Once.”
“Her breathing sounds okay.” Holly flashed the thermometer. “103.7 is better.”
Maria rose. She needed to do something instead of kneeling here feeling helpless. “I’m going to check in on Noah and dad and get the sheets in the wash.”
“Thanks,” Anna said.
As Maria stepped out into the hall, she heard Anna say, “What can we do?”
“What you’re doing. And we wait.”
“We wait?” Anna’s voice rose. “Get out. You’re no help at all.”
“Drink water, Abi,” Holly said soothingly, “and when you feel a little cooler, you can sleep. Anna, I’ll be out on the couch. If anything changes…”
“Go.”
Samuel drifted in and out of consciousness. For a while, Abi had lain beside him, her warmth keeping him alert, listening to her breathe while they made up a new bed for her.
Then there were other people in the room with him—little Noah, Maria, and Anna. And Grandpa Tom, Anna’s grandfather.
More time passed. Anna and Tom were here now. They whispered over him, assuming him still asleep.
“Why’d you come here, Anna?”
“You don’t want us here?”
“Didn’t say that,” the old man hissed. “Why’re you always jumping to conclusions?”
“Are we playing questions?”
“Are you nuts?”
“Yes. My husband is in there badly hurt. My daughter may be dying in the next room and I’m pregnant? I think I have the right.”
Samuel forced his eyes open. Abi?
“Abigail is fine. She’s sleeping and her temperature’s falling.” He sighed. “I’m worried, too. Can you answer my first question?”
“Why did we come?” Her voice took on an edge, cutting. “This is as close to a safe place as I’ve ever had. Despite your treatment—”
“My treatment? You got the same treatment as your cousins.”
“They were boys.”
“SO?” Grandpa’s voice rose and then dropped as quickly. “Why didn’t you come when your grandmother was sick?”
There was silence. Samuel could hear the two of them breathing. He wanted to open his eyes, to say something, but he knew Anna and Tom had to get through this if they were going to have any sort of relationship.
Anna sighed. “I meant to. Didn’t seem like she could die so quickly. She was always so strong.”
“She was,” Grandpa agreed. “She kept me strong. Took care of everyone else better than she took care of herself.”
“Then she was gone. And I felt guilty. I couldn’t face you.” There was a long pause before Anna continued. “I’m sorry. I thought by coming here I could make amends somehow. Keep her memory strong. Didn’t really expect you to make it without her.”
Grandpa’s gravelly voice choked with emotion. “Me neither. She always thought we were here for a reason. Guess mine was to help you.”
Their voices faded and Samuel slept, lulled to sleep by their strangely calm conversation.
Samuel woke with Abi’s head rising and falling on his chest. She felt warm, but not as bad as the heat she’d put off when her fever was stoking. How many days had that been?
He was out in the front room by the roaring fire. Grandpa and James had gotten a rolling hospital bed and a wheel chair for Samuel from a nursing home in Amanda Park. Now they could roll him around the house without aggravating anything.
The front door opened and he heard a whispered interchange. Maria and James. Are they doing okay? How can I help? I can hardly keep my eyes open. After a minute or two of the tense voices, footsteps echoed down the hall.
Maria came into the room and stood watching him. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly.
“Like I’ve got the damn virus.” He could feel the rattle in his chest, but at least he wasn’t coughing.
“No, Daddy. It’s a cold. A winter cold.” Maria said the words like she’d rehearsed them. “You got it from Abi. She seems to be getting better.” Did she believe that? She came over and knelt next to the bed.
“What are you and James fighting about?”
A progression of emotions—annoyance, anger, sadness, and fear—flashed across her face. “Nothing.”
Samuel sighed and let his eyes fall shut.
“He thinks someone is out there. Spying on us.”
Samuel opened his eyes, his heart raced. “Dammit, I can’t even get out of this thing by myself. The panel truck boys?”
“I don’t know of anyone else around.” She shrugged. “I think they’re harmless. And I think James is just catching the paranoia. Maybe.”
“We’re all in protection mode. Seems like there’s been enough death. Ought to be enough raw materials left to share.”
“Yeah. I’ve always agreed with your anti-fear stance, but it’s like the stakes are bigger.” She knelt and put her head on his chest, kissing Abi’s sleeping forehead.
“Why don’t you go get some sleep, Maria?” He ran his fingers through her hair, just like he used to when she was little. Sure enough, she had tangles. She winced. “Sorry.” Her hand reached for his. “I can holler if I need something.”
She stood up. “I love you, daddy,” she said, her mouth tight.
“Keep talking, okay? I’m happy to listen.” Samuel smiled at her and she left the room. Was Abi better? He could tell that she was coughing less, but she hadn’t spoken since the fever peaked. He didn’t have the energy to argue with Maria about it, but knew in his heart that the disease that had killed most of the rest of the human race had found them. They hadn’t escaped. Abi lived, but how soon would the rest of them come down with it? He could feel it in his bones.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MARIA FIDDLED WITH HER TOAST as she stared across the field of alders. The toast was dry before she added the butter; she forced herself to swallow the last bite of crust. She’d better learn to bake bread.
“Maria? Holly?” Grandpa’s voice called from her father’s room.
Maria jumped up from the breakfast table, barreled down the hall and through the door. “What is it?”
Grandpa’s face was white. “Anna’s having contractions. Says she’s not due for six weeks.”
“And you’re an ass.” Anna glared at him.
“I’m worried for you,” Grandpa said.
Her dad glanced from one to the other. “I’m worried, too, Anna.”
“Too many other things to worry about,” Ann said with less intensity.
Maria rested her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “How long?” she asked, trying to keep her voice soothing. Holly stepped in the room, but only just inside.
“Started last night.” Anna’s face tightened. “Been timing them for the last couple hours. Coming regularly...”
Holly came in, stopping inside the door frame without stepping all the way in.
“And you didn’t bother telling anyone?” Maria felt sweat roll down her chest inside her shirt.
“What can anyone do?”
“How many minutes apart are they?” Maria said, glancing at Holly. “You’re sure they’re not Braxton-Hicks?”
“Feels like the real thing to me.” Anna’s eyes were wide and she gritted her teeth. “Right now.” Her hands grasped Grandpa’s and her father’s arms.
“Breathe,” Maria ordered.
Anna nodded. Her breath hissed and then puffed—in and out. After a minute, she slowed and then went back to breathing normally. As Anna released the hold she’d had on Grandpa’s arm, Maria saw the fingers impression in his skin pressed clear of blood like a handprint. He winced and rubbed it a bit with his other hand.
“How certain are you about your due date?” Holly asked.
“Very certain,” Anna gritted her teeth, glaring at her. Grandpa’s partner was the last person Anna wanted around right
now.
Holly’s eyes caught Maria’s; her head moved ever so slightly left to right. No. Not time. Maria had had the same thought. Unless Anna was way off, this was early. Way too early.
Holly gestured with her head. Follow me. She slipped out.
Grandpa and Dad were there for Anna.
“Honey, it’ll be fine,” her dad said, his voice soft with concern.
“Yeah. It’s going to be all right, Anna,” Maria agreed. “I’m gonna go check on the kids.” She closed the door gently behind her.
Outside Holly motioned her close. “Six weeks is too early.”
Maria whispered. “What can we do to stop the labor?”
“I don’t know.” A wry laugh escaped. “Never had kids.”
“Lucky?” Maria asked.
“No. Planned it that way. Never was the mothering type.” She shook her head. “And now I’m kind of a great grandma.”
“Great-great grandma, pretty soon.” Maria patted her tummy. “Well, Granny, I wish we had access to the Internet.”
Holly glanced quizzically at her. “I’ve got it. My place. It was working a week ago.”
“Really?” How has this not come up? “I’ll ask Grandpa to hold down the fort.”
“Okay. You know,” Holly offered, “it might be nerves. Might stop on its own.”
“I know. I wondered.” Maria grinned. “Maybe not getting enough attention,” she whispered.
“Maybe.” Holly’s face broke into a pretty smile. “Meet you outside.”
Maria felt a little bad about playing up Anna’s downside, but Anna had always been a hard one to get along with.
Fifteen minutes and a quick and bumpy ride later, Maria slid into the seat in front of Holly’s computer. “May I?”
“Sure.” Holly rapped the desk with her knuckles. She smiled wryly. “For luck.”
Maria crossed her fingers. “Yeah.” She tapped the keyboard and the screen lit up with a news feed. The top headline jumped out at her. “The Source? No new cases in San Pedro, Honduras. Twelve days past the 28 day contagion window.” Maria typed preventing labor into the URL bar and hit enter.
“Hold it,” Holly said. “I want to read that article on Honduras.”
Maria hit the back button and scanned the article with Holly. “Holy shit. 60 percent of the population survived?”
“Have you been to Honduras?”
Maria snorted. “I’ve never been out of Washington and Oregon.”
Holly reached over Maria’s arm and hit PgDn. “I grew up in Honduras. El Progreso. My parents were missionaries.”
“Dad and Anna went there the year my mom died. They got really sick when they came back. Grandpa, Grandma, and I took care of them.” Maria continued to scan, but Holly scrolled down faster than she could read. She just got snippets. Honduras is Spillover Site.
“Bat flu,” Holly said, hitting PgDn again.
“Bat flew?” What the hell was Holly talking about? “What?”
“A local fruit bat is the likely reservoir for Influenza pandemic.”
Maria skimmed the screen. “That’s why we’re immune?”
“Don’t know if you are immune, but deaths in Honduras are the lowest reported per capita in the world.” Holly had hit the end of the article. All that was left were stupid troller ads advertising celebrities who had plastic surgery and other questionable content.
“Are you saying we have a sixty percent chance of getting it? Or that sixty percent of us will survive?”
Holly frowned. “Not how it works. Sorry. We may be dealing with different strain, a mutated virus, or just been lucky so far. Nothing much we can do except wait the 28 days. Let’s figure out what to do about Anna.”
Maria clicked back to the labor links. After several sighs from Holly, she slid to the side. “Here, you must read faster.”
Maria knew from her own recent experience that there was no lack of information about pregnancy and childbirth, but much of it contradicted the rest. The main things to stop early labor were rest and hydration. Drinking lots of water and lying on the left side of the body. Well, none of that could hurt. Also, red raspberry tea was supposed to be good for morning sickness, preventing miscarriage, and easing labor and delivery. “You have any red raspberry tea?”
Holly shook her head as she scrawled notes in a composition book. “There’s a market in town might have some. It’s got a small health foods section.”
After a bit it all seemed the same, Maria stopped reading and let her eyes close. Her thoughts drifted. Working with Holly to find answers was almost fun. And easier than dealing with unanswerable questions like whether or not to marry James. She pushed the thought from her mind and tried to feel the baby, make sense of her body, feel her breath. She focused on the fullness under her ribcage and relaxed.
Holly hand on her arm startled her awake. “Hey there, sorry to interrupt your nap, but I’ve got what I need.”
Maria shook off the sleepies. “Let’s go.”
“Need me to drive?”
Maria shook her head. “I’m fine. Think the nap did me some good.”
When they got back to Grandpa’s, Holly sent him into town to look for raspberry tea.
Maria saw Holly hesitate at the door to Anna’s room. Why would she want to go back in there? “I’ll go in and talk to her. She’s never been good with medical personnel.”
“How is she with authors?” Holly smiled.
“You write religious fiction?”
“No. Quite irreligious.”
“Probably stick with the former-nurse face with her.” Maria impulsively hugged Holly. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” Holly chuckled. “Mostly.”
Maria took a deep breath and went in to tell Anna what they’d found out.
Over the rest of the day, the contractions gradually slowed and finally stopped. Grandpa had found some of the raspberry tea, but it had taken him half a day. He didn’t say how far he’d driven, only that he could go pretty fast with no cops on the road.
Somewhere around midnight, Anna fell into an uninterrupted sleep. Maria’s head had been nodding for hours. She stood, checked that Anna had plenty of water and tea, then dragged herself down the hall. She had to check on Dad and Abi before she crashed. She tapped on the door to her father’s room.
“Come in,” James soft deep voice floated through the door.
Inside, her father lay on his bed, eyes closed. Maria’s eyes jumped to her father’s chest. It rose and fell softly.
James sat in the big cushy armchair reading a book. He slid a bookmark in and closed it. “How’s Anna?”
“She’s all right. Asleep for now.” Then she noticed that a bed had been brought in for Abi. She was curled up in it, her arms wrapped around a giant bear.
“Your Grandpa’s with Noah. After a while we’ll switch. Whoever has Noah gets to sleep when he does. I swear that kid sleeps more during the day than at night. But he’s pretty damn cute.” He placed his hand gently on her belly. “I don’t mind.”
Maria’s relief stole over her as exhaustion kicked back in. “James. Thanks for helping take care of my family.” She kissed him on the forehead and turned to go.
He caught her arm. “I know you need sleep. But give me a real kiss at least.”
“Sorry, James.” She knelt down; her lips met his. Her arms wrapped around his solidness. She felt more muscle on him than what she was used to.
“Don’t worry about it, Ria.” His warm hand cupped her face as he kissed her forehead. “You could sleep here.” He opened his arms.
Maria knew she should get to a bed. Here, she was going to wake up whenever James moved, Abi coughed, or her father groaned. But the warmth and comfort conspired with her tired body to keep her where she was. “Maybe for a bit.” She sat sideways on his lap, snuggling herself in as his arms cradled her. She let her eyes fall closed. “I love you, James.”
“Then marry me, silly.”
Had he reall
y said that or was her mind conspiring against her?
In the middle of the night, Grandpa came in for a shift to watch her father and Maria awoke. James helped her to her feet.
Once she was in bed, James left. But a few minutes later, he came back in carrying Noah, asleep in his arms. “If he wakes up in here, he won’t get scared that he’s alone. And we won’t have to get up and take care of him.”
“Good call.” Maria pulled back the covers and let James back up to her with little Noah on the other side. She relaxed into his warmth and released her stubborn waking self.
~
Samuel woke coughing. He levered himself up on his elbow to drink some water, and a sharp pain stabbed in his side. The water felt good and the coughing settled down. His throat hurt and his nose was running. Anna was sleeping crossways in the recliner. He relaxed back into the pillows to catch his breath.
There was a knock on the door and it swung open. James slid through the door balancing a tray of food in his hands. Coffee sloshed over the rim of a monstrous moose head mug.
Samuel shook his head and lay back. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Don’t think I can eat.”
James shushed him. “You’ll want this.” He waved the mug under Samuel’s nose and set it on the table beside the bed. “Let me help you sit up.”
The cinnamon scent tugged at Samuel’s memory. He allowed James to adjust him using minimal muscles of his own. “Thanks.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended. He tried to catch James’ eyes, but the young man kept staring at the food on the tray. There was a momentary glimpse as he placed the hot cup in Samuel’s hands, but only enough to ensure it didn’t get dropped.
Samuel held it to his nose again. Apples, cinnamon, and a kick—Grandpa’s legendary apple brandy. “Brandy?” he rasped.
“You can smell the alcohol?” James asked.
“James. Please, look at me.”
James raised his head slowly, his eyes full of regret and tension.
“The accident was not your fault. It was an accident. I should have given you more training.”
“I did it. Almost killed Maria. The baby. You.”
“I’m not dead. And if something kills me, it’s gonna be old age or this damn virus. Okay?”
Deserted Lands (Novel): Toils and Snares Page 10
