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“Where would they go?”
“Southwest and deeper into the rainforest. I’m sorry, I’m talking out loud, and it’s not important right now.” His fingers rest on my pulse. “I’ll head straight to Victor and arrange a flight for you. I can check how long a medical flight will take to get here. If you can cope sitting up, then we can take one of the Cessnas, and I’ll pay the pilot double.”
“My throat is a little better.”
“The antibiotics are working, but you’re going to need a series of tests for the sake of you and our baby.”
“Meaning?”
“Expect to be in the hospital for some time,” he says it as though it’s a difficult thing to endure.
“It has to be better than my last accommodation.”
Samuel offers a weak smile, then pushes the hair out of my eyes. “Some hospitals have fewer supplies than I do in Ulara. They can’t afford soap to clean, some don’t have drugs like antibiotics or clean running water.”
“What?” I croak.
“I’m taking you to a private one where I have briefly worked. It’s well funded, and I’ve met many of the specialists.”
Shades of pink streak across the eastern sky. A golden crown glows behind the resort creating a shimmer as if glitter has been sprinkled over the buildings. It’s a fairy castle compared to where I spent the previous night.
Samuel carries me to his room while Asoo dashes to reception to alert Victor of our plans. Samuel runs a bath, and while I soak, he showers, then steps into the bedroom to use his cell.
The bubble foam cleanses the surface of my body. Beneath the skin, my joints ache. It’s deep, as though the goodness in my bones is being drenched of nutrients for my deprived body to stay alive. My legs are heavy like steel. I barely have enough energy to lift my arms to wash my hair. In the other room, the bed calls for me to climb onto its softness and sleep for a thousand hours.
Samuel’s voice turns deeper, engaged in a battle of words in Spanish. Before I move a single muscle, the bathroom door swings open.
“We have a problem.” Samuel lowers to his knees and takes my hand. He circles his fingers over my skin to calm me. “There’s no pilot to fly the plane until morning. I tried to arrange an emergency—”
“It’s fine, and I’m feeling much better. I’ll survive another night.” I smile at him, trying humor to lighten his mood.
He rests a hand on my stomach as though he’s holding our baby. His eyes meet mine, and I’m not prepared for the anguish building inside of him. “The health system has changed. Many hospitals are closed or, if open, there are no doctors. There are stories of women giving birth out in the parking lot and waiting rooms. Now there are limited supplies of the treatment you need—”
“What do you want me to do?” I rasp.
“I’m failing you. I—”
I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “None of this was your fault.”
“I’m sorry.” His expression falters, then he scrubs his hands over his face, although the pained mask remains. “I know a guy in Guyana… Georgetown, and you’ll have good private care. We need to get to Ciudad Guayana first, then fly to Guyana, so you’ll need your passport.”
“Everything is in the small bag that I left with Victor.”
“We’ll fly out first thing in the morning and then catch a connecting flight to Georgetown. For now, I’ll get us some food, and then you need to rest.”
Samuel helps me out of the bath, dabs the towel over me, tenderly drying my skin, and then helps me onto the bed. He kisses my cheek before he leaves. “You’re going to be fine,” he whispers.
I need to believe him, for the way my muscles hurt, it feels like I’m slowly letting go. Every bruise is ingrained deep. Beyond the surface, my soul is scarred. Each scar has torn at my faith in surviving out here and keeping my baby safe.
I’m hanging on to my own life by a thread.
12
SAMUEL
A steadybeepcomes from the monitor beside Eden’s bed. Her blood pressure and blood oxygen levels remain stable. He stands to check out the intravenous infusion pump even though the nurse left the room mere minutes ago. Medication and intravenous fluids have treated her dehydration and bacterial infections, and yet it hasn’t stopped him from worrying and analysing the slightest change in her blood pressure.
The chair by her bed is where he’s slept in short bursts, too afraid to close his eyes for long periods in case she needs him. How she has gotten through the ordeal is beyond him.
