Chapter 25
“How are you feeling, Ryan?” Joss asked, placing a cool hand on his forehead. He was very warm, his skin clammy and pale. He’d arrived home from the watering hole two days earlier, complaining of a headache, and had gone to bed early to sleep it off. He’d been there ever since. Joss slept beside him both nights, checking in on him throughout the night, making sure he was hydrated and offering him Tylenol, but he had not improved at all.
“I’ve been better,” he croaked, squinting at her through swollen eyelids. She was worried. It was the first time any of them had taken ill since the crash, aside from Grant’s concussion, and it suddenly dawned on her how vulnerable they actually were. They had been so lucky up till then. “My body is aching. I’m not sure I’ll be of much use again today.”
“The Tylenol isn’t helping much, is it?” she asked, placing a moist cloth over his brow.
“A little bit maybe. Are there any left?”
Joss picked up the bottle and popped the lid, finding only a half dozen or so left inside. When they first went through their supplies, they’d found a small stash in the first aid kit, a few months out of date, but still better than nothing. At the time, they agreed to not to use them unless they absolutely needed them, but it was fair to say, this was one of those times.
“There are about three doses left. I’d like to break your fever, offer you some relief, but I also think we need to let your body fight the virus, and the fever will help kill off whatever is running amok inside you. Do you think you can bear it?” she asked, pulling her wrap over him.
“I think I can tough it out. Sorry to be such a burden,” he shivered, coughing into his fist. “Ouch, even that hurts. Nothing worse than a man-cold. You’d think I was dying.”
“I think it’s a little worse than a cold,” she razzed lightly, doing her best to hide her concern. “I think your griping is justified. Just take it easy for the day. I’ll bring you some broth as soon as it’s ready.”
“I’ll be here, whining like a little bitch” he said, patting her hand. “Go, I’ll be fine.”
Joss nodded, and stood up, hesitant to leave him. Whatever he’d picked up was taking a firm hold, and the next few days were going to be miserable for him. She didn’t like seeing him suffer.
“How’s he doing?” Charles asked, meeting her just outside the shelter, handing her a coconut shell filled with water. He was clearly just as concerned as she was, a worried expression etched on his face.
“He seems to be getting worse. I’m guessing his fever is around 102, but without a thermometer it’s hard to know. The only thing we can do is wait it out,” Joss explained, pouring the warm water over her hands. She handed the bowl back to him, shaking away the excess water, then drying her hands on her shirt.
“Anything I can do?” he asked, lowering his voice, so as not to disturb Ryan.
“Not yet. He just needs to rest, let his immune system ramp up. Hopefully he can fight it off in the next 48 hours.”
“And if he can’t?” Charlie whispered, asking the question she wasn’t ready to face. She shook her head, silently answering him, afraid to voice her concerns out loud. The truth was, they were at the mercy of fate. If he got any sicker; if he needed fluids, pain meds, antibiotics, anything beyond Tylenol and TLC, there was nothing they could do to help him.
“Any chance he might be contagious?” he asked pragmatically, not wanting to add to their worries but concerned just the same, especially for Joss, who was obviously the one in closest contact.
“There’s always a chance. I have no idea what we’re dealing with. We’ll have to hope for the best. Probably a good idea for you guys to keep your distance, just in case, and keep washing your hands.”
“Okay,” he nodded solemnly, “Let’s tell the guys.”
They travelled back to the fire together, using the short distance to shake off the worst of their concerns. They didn’t want to panic the others unnecessarily. The guys looked up from their seats, gauging Joss’ expression. She smiled weakly at them, brushing away her bangs with the back of her hand.
“So?” Grant asked, patting the seat beside him. Joss sat down, taking the plate of food Daniel offered her. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but appreciated the gesture none the less.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a small bite of fish. It was hard to swallow, her emotion tight in her throat, but she choked it down anyway. “He’s doing ok, for now,” she assured, hoping her tone sounded less anxious than she felt.
“Does he still have a fever?” Willie asked, not hiding his uneasiness. It had been him that practically carried Ryan to the shelter two nights earlier, and he was sick with worry.
“Yes. Whatever he has is taking its toll on him. I will take care of him. No point in all of us being exposed to whatever is making him sick,” she insisted, nodding her head for emphasis.
Daniel crouched down beside her, resting his hand on her knee. “What can we do?” Joss was walking an emotional tight rope and his tenderness almost brought tears to her eyes. She cleared her throat and smiled, pushing down her anxiety. She had to be strong for them.
“I need you guys to carry on with whatever needs doing, just like always. Worrying is just going to add to all of your stress. I got this, okay?”
“We know you do, Joss,” Grant gently assured, sensing her distress. He didn’t like her placing so much pressure on herself, not when he was injured, and not now. It hurt his heart to see her like that. “We’ll be okay. We’ll take care of shit around here, right guys?”
They all nodded at her, each of them struggling with their own thoughts. They loved Ryan and it sucked feeling so helpless.
* * *
Later that night Joss tried offering Ryan some broth again. He had thrown up earlier that day and was quite dehydrated. He could barely keep his head up, and she had a hard time getting him to drink it. He complained that his sore throat made it too difficult to swallow. Using a small flash light, she was able to take a quick look inside. It didn’t look good. His throat was swollen and full of pus, the worst she had ever seen. It was no surprise that he was having issues swallowing. His fever also seemed worse. He was burning up, and could barely focus his eyes. Whatever he had, it was rapidly progressing. She tried to keep him cool by placing wet cloths on his head and body, but without ice it was futile. His core body temperature was too high. She was really starting to worry.
“Do you think you can swallow some pills, Ryan?” she asked, helping him to sit up. His body was dead weight, and she tucked herself behind him to hold him up. He mumbled something she couldn’t quite understand, resting his head against her shoulder.
“Baby, can you stay with me for just a minute more,” she stammered, gently shaking him. He responded again, this time a little clearer.
“I don’t think...can’t...” he croaked through chapped lips.
“I need you to try,” she insisted assertively. As his lover she felt nothing but compassion for him, but as his nurse she needed to take charge, and that meant pushing him as far as she could. He depended on her whether he liked it or not.
“Okay Joss...” he whispered, closing his eyes once more, slipping back to the dark. She felt him grow heavy in her arms.
“Ryan, please wake up. Take the Tylenol, then you can go back to sleep,” she begged, propping him up again. He opened his mouth, allowing her to place the pills inside, then took a sip of water.
She could tell he was in pain trying to swallow them down, but he did it. She felt relieved, accepting even the smallest victory, and prayed that his fever would come down. She had suspected dengue fever all along, but it was confirmed when she noticed a rash developing on his neck and face. She convinced herself that if she could keep him resting and hydrated, he would be okay. He’d feel like shit for a week or two, but he’d pull through. It was the best they could hope for, and at least it wasn’t contagious. Worst case scenario? She didn’t want to think about it but she knew she had to
be prepared. He could develop severe dengue, which had the potential to be deadly, and without proper treatment or a hospital, death was almost a guarantee.
“Thanks Joss,” he mumbled, resting his head against her again. She held him for a few minutes, listening to his labored breathing, wishing she could do more. His body was hot against hers, making her feel extra uncomfortable in the heat of the shelter, but she refused to let him go.
The next few days were much of the same. Unfortunately, the Tylenol ran out and Joss had to research a natural remedy to ease Ryan’s suffering. She sent Charles and Grant searching for a Neem tree. She was certain she’d seen some in her travels and gave them directions, offering them the map she had drawn in her journal, circling where she suspected they would be. Her medicinal plant book suggested that the leaves could be steeped in hot water, the brew helping to increase both blood platelet count and white blood cell count, two of the most dangerous effects of the dengue virus. She hoped the tea would also improve his immune system and return his strength much faster.
Getting him to drink it was another story. It was tough to swallow, not because his throat hurt so bad, but because it tasted like crap. The first few times she offered it to him he spit it out, too delirious to know it was for his own good. Finally, with a lot of coaxing and sweetening the tea with a little mango juice, he finally accepted the bitter brew.
By day five of his sickness, his fever dropped rapidly, but it wasn’t a good sign. He became restless and agitated, and complained of severe abdominal pain. Joss second guessed her decision to administer the Neem tea, fearing he may have had an allergic reaction, or worse, she may have mistakenly poisoned him. But when his gums started bleeding, then his nose, she knew what was happening. The worst case scenario. He was dying.
The guys were having dinner by the fire, the mood solemn, their noise level respectful. It had been four days, all of them waiting with bated breath for some positive news, for their dear friend to get better. When they looked up at her with hope in their eyes, she lost it, crumpling to the ground sobbing, unable to control her tears. Charles was by her side in seconds, wrapping his arms around her, whispering soothing words in her ear.
“What is it, Joss?” Daniel asked, crouching down in front of her, his gut tight with fear.
She looked up at him, not even bothering to wipe the tears off her face, and shook her head, unable to spit the words out. Daniel dropped to his knees, his face contorted in pain, wordless, silent, forgetting to breathe. He began to shake, his lungs begging for oxygen, but he was afraid to inhale, for fear that his exhale would end in a scream. Finally he took a breath, and began to sob, scared to death to hear the words Joss had to say.
“Is he gone?” Willie asked quietly, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder to offer him comfort. Joss shook her head again, catching her breath.
Barely audible, she choked, “No...but...it is not looking good for him.”
“Is it what you warned us could happen?” Grant asked, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face pulled in despair.
“I think so,” Joss nodded, wishing, hoping, praying she was wrong.
“What does he need?” Willie mumbled, barely holding it together.
“He needs to be in a hospital. He needs IV fluids, drugs, constant monitoring. Without it, his organs will start shutting down,” she offered, trying to remember everything she’d ever learned about Severe Dengue.
“How long do you think?” Charles asked, slowly shaking his head.
“I don’t know, maybe a few days, maybe sooner...” Joss choked, hating the words as they fell from her lips.
Daniel raised his head, running a hand through his hair. “Can we go in and see him,” he asked.
“Of course,” Joss agreed, trying to summon a smile for him. “I’m sure he’d like us to spend as much time with him as possible.”
Grant moved forward and crouched in front of her, taking her hand. “Is there anything we can do, Joss?”
She looked at him sadly, only one thing coming to mind. “Pray.”
Chapter 26
It was the longest night of Joss’ life, of all their lives. They stayed inside the shelter, taking turns sitting by Ryan’s side, sleeping in shifts. Joss spent hours studying her book, trying to find something, anything else that might be able to help him, being as thorough as possible. The sleepless night left her drained, emotional, and agitated but she knew she had to hold it together. The last thing any of them needed was to deal with an hysterical woman. But inside, she was hysterical, filled with quiet panic and dread. It was incredibly heartbreaking watching Ryan suffer, hour by hour losing his fight. It was hard for her brain to accept, how in a matter of a week he could go from a strong, vital man to a listless shell of himself. It wasn’t fair. They had survived a plane crash for God’s sake! She knew she was floating through the stages of grief, coming around to each of them over and over again. She loved him. She wasn’t ready to let him go.
“Joss, I’m going to get a fire going, make some mint tea,” Daniel said, pulling her out of her trance. “Can I get you some?”
She looked up at him, trying to focus her eyes. He was smiling at her lovingly but clearly he was dealing with his own sadness.
“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up straighter.
“It’s pretty early still. Six thirty.”
“How’s Ryan?”
“Same. He just took some water from Charles,” Daniel said, placing his hand gently on her cheek. “Maybe you should try to get a little sleep?”
“I’m okay,” she said, placing her hand over his. “I will take some tea.”
“Okay, love. I’ll bring you some.”
She shook her head, “No, I’ll be out in a few minutes. I could use some fresh air and maybe a quick wash, try to get my second wind.”
Joss took her time, checking on Ryan and monitoring his vitals. As soon as she sat down with him, Charles kissed her on the forehead and wandered away, leaving them alone. She lovingly washed Ryan’s face, smiling when he opened his eyes for her. She tried to pretend he could see her, but she knew he was barely processing what was happening.
“I love you,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. She grasped his hand gently, tears rolling down her cheeks. To her surprise he weakly squeezed her hand in return. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. He was still in there, reassuring her, telling her he loved her too, in the only way he could.
“Oh Ryan, please don’t die,” she sobbed, raising his hand to her lips. “Please baby, please.”
* * *
It took everything she had to leave Ryan’s side, but she knew she needed to take care of herself if she was going to be at her best for him. After leaving him in Charlie’s hands she met Daniel by the fire and choked down the breakfast he’d prepared for her. They didn’t talk, they didn’t have to. She just appreciated him taking care of her, of quietly loving her and acknowledging her pain.
She could see he was suffering too. The island had forced them together, but away from civilization, and the distractions of everyday life, they were offered a chance to bond in ways that sometimes took years in the real world, especially for men. It was actually a beautiful and inspiring thing to witness. Daniel and Ryan were probably the closest of all the men, a true bromance, and Danny’s pain went just as deep as her own. He was a sweet soul, and her heart ached for him.
After changing into her bathing suit and gathering some clean clothes, she wrapped a towel around herself and slowly walked down to the lagoon, exhaustion heavily weighing her down. She hoped the cool water would refresh her enough to get through the rest of the morning. As she approached the shore she saw Willie sitting in the shallow water, holding his head in his hands.
“Good morning,” she whispered, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with sad eyes and smiled, placing his own hand over hers.
“Morning.”
“Do you mind if I join you? I was just going to wash
up,” she asked, not wanting to disturb his solitude.
“Please,” he invited, pulling her towards him. She sat in front of him, nestled between his legs, both of them facing the serene water. He cradled her in his arms, resting his head against hers, and they sat together, quietly gathering strength from one another.
After a few minutes, he began bathing her, tenderly washing her hair and body. He just wanted to care for her, to nurture and protect her. The old Joss would have been uneasy, resisting the unconditional love and affection, but Willie had a way of making her feel cherished, safe, adored. She knew he just wanted her to feel loved. His intentions were honorable, just like him. As soon as he finished she leaned back against his chest.
“That feels better,” she sighed. He wrapped his arms around her once more, lightly kissing the top of her crown.
“I know it isn’t much, but I wanted to do something. I feel so helpless,” he mumbled, his words choked with his own grief.
“It’s okay. I know,” she soothed, closing her eyes to stop her tears.
“I’ve been praying for him. For some kind of miracle,” he continued quietly. “I was raised to believe in God, worshipping every Sunday. I forgot how powerful it could be...faith.”
“I’m not sure what I believe, Willie. There have been days that I felt divinely guided, but right now I just feel empty. I don’t want to lose him...”
“I know...I don’t want to lose him either. I’ve grown so close to him, to all of you...”
“Shhh...” Joss interrupted, sitting forward. Willie looked at her thoughtfully, trying to understand what he’d said wrong.
“Sorry?”
“Do you hear that?” she asked, cocking her head, her eyes suddenly wide with confusion.
“What am I listening to?”
“That! Do you hear it? That humming noise?” she gushed, pulling herself out of the water. She ran to the beach and wrapped the towel around herself, Willie close on her heels.
“I do! What is that?” he laughed, raising his eyes to the sky.
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