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“Laney…” I groan again. “The mattress…it’s…it’s wet.”
She pushes the hair off my forehead, her hand cool as she rests it there for a moment, before putting the ice back. I want to hold her hand against me, feel the cool weight of her touch against my skin. “You’re burning up, Alex,” she says, throwing the blankets off my lower half. “Your fever is back and you’re sweating everywhere.”
I groan as the shakes suddenly disappear, only to be replaced by a full body sweat that comes over me. My chest still feels heavy and as I try to suck in a lung full of air, I hear the crackles, feel the vice tighten as I once again start coughing.
“Fuck,” she murmurs, tipping the water bottle to my lips. “Try to drink some water.”
I do, but nearly choke on the tiny mouthful, the water spilling out onto my face and neck. Delaney props me up, shoving blankets and pillows behind my head even as she moves the block of ice on my chest. I force my eyes to open, glancing down to see it’s not ice, but a towel full of snow.
When I look back up at her, I offer her a weak smile. “I’m okay,” I croak out.
She shakes her head, tears openly streaming down her cheeks now. “You’re not okay, Alex,” she whispers, swallowing hard. “You need to be in the hospital.”
“Nah,” I groan, coughing again. “Tougher…tougher than I look…”
She tries to smile but fails as a sob falls from her mouth. “Alex…” she whispers, brushing my sweat-soaked hair back again. “Alex, please…”
It’s the last thing I hear before my eyes fall closed and everything goes black.
26
DELANEY
“Alex?” I wail, the panic in my voice makes every letter shake as I force them out. My heart begins to race, my hand is shaking when I pull it back from his forehead. His fever is the worst it’s been and his breathing is so labored that there’s no way he’s getting enough air.
“Alex!” I now scream into the bleak silence of the cabin, of these woods, of everything around us. There’s no one here to help us, just me, and I know I need to pull myself together.
I can do this.
Despite that everything in me is struggling, I can’t fall apart, not now, not while Alex needs me. I lean down, listening for his breathing, my fingers sliding along his neck to check for a pulse. I let out a strange, strangled sob of relief when I find both to be present, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.
I hate to leave him, even for a few seconds, but I need to get his fever down. I grab a blanket, rushing out the door of the cabin, I throw it down into the snow, covering it as much as I can.
Scooping it up, the snow dropping from it as I carry it back into the cabin, draping it over Alex’s body. I’m freezing and I can’t tell if my body is shaking from the cold or from the fear of possibly losing him. I swore up and down we wouldn’t die out here, but I’m beginning to think I was wrong.
Alex moans, trying to roll away from the heavy, freezing weight of the blanket, pushing awkwardly at it with his hands now.
“Laney, no,” he mutters, and I’ve never been so happy to hear him call me Laney. The sound of his voice has me sobbing.
“Yes, Alex, and eat this,” I say, holding the blanket against his skin with one hand and dropping the bright orange mushrooms into his mouth.
They smell like VapoRub and all I keep thinking or at least I keep telling myself, is if they smell like that then they must be some sort of natural remedy for coughs. I’m grasping at straws here, but that’s all I have right now.
Alex attempts to chew but ends up coughing so hard he nearly throws up. I can hear the rattle in his chest with each heaving breath he takes. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. I know he’s dehydrated and he’s lost weight from not eating enough. His body is struggling to fight off this virus and the inhaler is doing nothing. It’s all we have though.
I hold it to his mouth and he nods slightly so I press it as he attempts to take in a breath. I hate doing this to him because I know it only leads to him coughing. And that’s exactly what happens.
I hold my breath as his coughing fit takes over, all the air sucked from my lungs with worry at how we’re going to get through this. His whole body shakes with an attempt to take in air, weak and rundown, it feels like he’s giving up when he rolls over and just keeps coughing.
“Drink this,” I tell him, holding the straw from his water bottle to his mouth. I’m sure he’s sick of me shoving things in his face, covering his body with freezing cold towels and blankets and forcing him to eat mushy shit we’ve found in the woods. I’m not a doctor, not even fucking close. I have first aid and CPR training and that’s all I’ve got. Alex needs oxygen and a fucking doctor, a hospital and the kind of drugs that we don’t have. Ibuprofen will only go so far. Its use has been exhausted already.
He attempts to take a drink, spluttering the water all over the mattress and me as his coughing continues. He lifts his head slightly, trying to take another drink and this time he gets it down, but it doesn’t stay down. His stomach goes in reverse, the coughing forcing everything out and he pukes on the floor next to the mattress.
“Alex, I say, my voice sympathetic as I wipe his mouth with a towel. He’s a mess and I don’t know what to do. He can’t be throwing up. His body is barely hanging on.
He falls back against the mattress, almost like he’s giving up. He swallows hard, but it strangely feels like he’s found some relief. Maybe it was throwing up or maybe the inhaler is working.
I press my lips against his forehead, finding him not as hot as he was, the coolness of the blankets doing their job to reduce his fever.
