As the snow started coming down even harder and the wind picked up, Maximo, the cabin’s caretaker, called to check on us. When we assured him we were fine and had everything we needed, he said, “That’s good, because at this rate the private road leading to the cabin is going to be undrivable. Don’t worry, though. As soon as it stops coming down, I’ll send my cousin and his snowplow to clear a path for you.”
Devon thanked him, and after he ended the call, he said, “I think I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Is your stomach still bothering you?” When he nodded, I asked, “Want me to make you some more tea?”
“No, thanks. I just want to rest.” I watched with concern as he shuffled off to the bedroom.
He was asleep the first two times I checked on him. The third time, he was awake, pale, and slightly sweaty.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “How do you feel?”
“I think I have food poisoning. My other thought was the stomach flu, but we haven’t been anywhere, so I don’t know where I’d get it.”
“I feel fine though, and we’ve eaten all the same things.”
“Not quite. Remember when I ate that imported tin of fish last night? You thought it looked gross, so you didn’t have any.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. But if it was food poisoning, wouldn’t it have shown up sooner?”
He shrugged. “It depends on the pathogen. I have no idea what might contaminate tinned smelt, or whatever that was.”
“You know, eating that seemed like a bad idea right from the start.”
“I ate much weirder stuff on my travels,” he said, “and I was always fine.”
“What are we going to do if you need to go to the hospital?”
“We won’t. All we have to do is wait it out, and it’ll run its course.” As he said that, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.
He got sicker overnight. We both barely slept. By the next morning, I was really concerned. He was shaking with a fever and chills, in pain, and nauseous, so I said, “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He had to be feeling awful if he actually agreed with me.
It had been snowing all night, and it was still coming down. I pulled my phone from my pocket and told him, “I’m going to call Maximo and ask him to send the snowplow.” Devon nodded and winced as he curled in on himself.
I poked at the screen and said, “I don’t have cell service. I’m going to try your phone.” It didn’t have service, either. “I guess the storm knocked out a relay tower or something.”
“It’s not the curse, right? Tell me it’s not the curse. It’s the day before my birthday. I’m not supposed to live to see thirty.”
A cold shiver of dread ran down my spine, and an irrational little part of me thought,my god, what if it’s actually real?But I said, “It’s definitely not the curse.” I pressed my hand to his hot forehead. “I need to take your temperature. Is there a thermometer somewhere?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go look.”
I searched all four bathrooms. When I finally found a first aid kit, it didn’t have a thermometer.
I ran to the kitchen and made him an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and when I returned with it I asked, “Can you lie on your back, so I can put this on your forehead?”
“It hurts to move.”
“Where does it hurt? Can you show me?” He winced as he forced himself to roll over, and then he pointed to his belly button. He immediately curled back into a fetal position, and I said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning, not if it hurts to move. Maybe it’s a kidney stone, or your gallbladder? Those are totally random guesses. I don’t know anything about this stuff, and without my phone I can’t look it up.”
“I don’t know, either.”
“What should I do?”
“There’s nothing either of us can do,” he whispered, as he pressed his eyes shut. “We’re trapped here by the snow.”
