Broken World (8 page)
I
SHIVER THROUGH THE NIGHT, drifting in and out of sleep. Axl sleeps next to me
in the bed. I doubt he gets much rest. He tries to get me to drink something,
and he carries me to the bathroom when I have to go. I could walk—I think—but
he won’t let me.
He’s gentle. Where did that come from?
I stare at a large hole in the curtain,
watching the light go from a soft glow to a blinding yellow that hurts my eyes.
I’m still shivering. I’m still sweating. My throat is inflamed. I will die
today.
My fever goes up and down. When the
medicine kicks in, I can almost focus on the things around me. I can carry on a
small conversation, take a few sips of water, and swallow the chicken broth Axl
forces into my mouth. It all hurts, but I’m there. Present.
But when the fever comes back nothing
makes sense. I have the same dream about Emily. She plays in a field, singing a
silly song. She smiles at me. It’s so real…
I have other dreams too. Dreams about
dead bodies being picked apart in tents, birds feasting on their eyes. I moan
and thrash in my sleep, and Axl’s voice constantly breaks through the delirium.
It’s so much more soothing in my dreams than it is in real life.
And Roger is there. Sometimes it’s his
body in the tent, an eye missing, a bird sitting on his shoulder. But sometimes
I’m back in that trailer while he stands over me. An empty bottle in one hand,
a leather belt in the other. The leather on my bare skin stings when he hits
me. I scream.
Axl always wakes me.
No one comes to the room but Joshua and
Axl. Joshua checks my temperature and asks how I feel, but he doesn’t stay. He
probably can’t stand to see me die. Maybe he’s just seen too much lately, or
maybe it’s because he kind of knows me. Either way, he doesn’t hang out for
long.
Axl never leaves my side. He’s always
there. Always ready to get me some water or help me to the bathroom. He wipes
my forehead with a cool washcloth. I’ve never had someone do that for me
before.
The light through the hole in the
curtains gets softer and I wait to die. But the sun sets and I hang on.
“I’ve never seen anyone make it this
long.” Joshua stands over me with his arms crossed. He bites his lip.
“Maybe it’s somethin’ else?” Axl
suggests
Joshua’s back straightens and his arms
drop to his sides. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“In the car.” Axl glances at me and
frowns. “I’ll be right back.” His voice is soft, like he hates to leave me.
My eyes follow him out the door. Hope
flickers inside me, like the tiny flame of a candle. Is it possible I caught
something else? That in the middle of a killer virus sweeping the country, I
somehow picked up a different bug?
Axl is back in no time, and Joshua takes
the flashlight from him. “Open your mouth, Vivian. Stick out your tongue.”
I do. My heart pounds and I squeeze my
eyes shut, saying a silent prayer. I’ve never really been a religious person,
but if there’s ever a time to pray, this is it.
“Damn,” Joshua says.
My eyes fly open. He frowns. Is that
good or bad?
“What?” Axl snaps.
“I need the keys to the Nissan. I don’t
know for sure. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but it could be strep. I
need to find a pharmacy and get you some antibiotics.”
Axl grabs the keys off the dresser. “Do
it.”
Joshua runs out of the motel room
without another word, and I’m left speechless.
I might not die.
Axl stands with his back to me. He
crosses his arms over his chest. He stares at the door Joshua just disappeared
through for a few seconds, then he turns around. There’s a tense smile on his
face. “You might be immune yet.”
I nod, but I can’t talk. I’m trying not
to get my hopes up. This could still be the end.
Axl paces the room, and I lay in bed
with my eyes closed. Waiting.
Joshua is back in what seems like
seconds. He charges into the room with a white paper bag in his hand. He gasps,
like he can’t catch his breath. “They were closed, but the pharmacist was still
inside, so I banged on the door until he let me in.” He opens the bag and pulls
out a rectangular box. “This is a Z-pack. It’s strong stuff.” He looks at me
with an intense expression on his face. “If this is strep, we should see an
improvement within forty-eight hours.”
Two days. I’ll either be dead or better.
It seems like an eternity.
“Take two today and one for the next
four days,” Joshua says, popping the pills out of the pack.
Axl waits with a cup of water. Joshua
gives him the pills. Axl puts the pills in my mouth and helps me sip. He
doesn’t talk, but his eyes hold mine as I swallow the liquid. It’s like
swallowing hot coals, and I wince.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,” Joshua says. He stands in
the middle of the room and his eyes are dark. “I should have checked earlier. I
should have considered it might be something else.”
“How could you?” I whisper. My voice is
so hoarse that it doesn’t sound anything like me.
“I should have known,” he repeats. His
face crumples. He clears his throat, turns, and walks out of the motel room
without another word.
“His mom and brother died yesterday.
Dad’s sick too.” Axl shakes his head. “He ain’t been able to reach him today.”
My heart aches. He’s been here, taking
care of me while his family died. Maybe he could have gotten there to say
goodbye. If it hadn’t been for me.
* * *
Night is the same as the one before,
only I get a little more sleep. When I wake, my body aches less. My throat is
still raw, but my bones don’t hurt with as much intensity as they did before.
I roll toward Axl. He’s asleep next to
me, and his face is relaxed. He looks younger. It’s a comfort to have him here.
“Axl,” I croak.
He bolts upright, startling me. Joshua
jerks awake in the other bed.
“What?” Axl seems panicked, like he’s
expecting bad news.
I almost laugh, but it would hurt too
much, so I try to choke it down. “I don’t hurt as much.”
Joshua is next to me in the blink of an
eye, and they both touch my face. Their hands are on my cheeks, my forehead.
“She feels cooler,” he says.
He runs to the other side of the room,
but I can’t take my eyes off Axl. My fever is down, I know it is, because for
the first time I can truly appreciate everything he did for me the last two
days. It makes me want to take back every negative thought I ever had about
him.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Talking tickles
my throat. I turn my head away from him so I can cough.
He doesn’t say anything, but when I look
back his eyes shimmer with hope.
Joshua comes back with a thermometer.
“Put this under your tongue.”
I open my mouth and allow him to put the
thermometer in. Axl doesn’t say anything, but his hand rests on my shoulder. I
don’t want him to move it. It’s more comforting than a warm blanket on a cold
day. Better than a hug from your mother. I’m assuming. I don’t really ever
remember getting a hug from my mom, but there’s no way it could have made my
insides feel as warm and silky as they do now.
The thermometer beeps. Joshua removes it
and lets out a sigh. “One hundred point eight.” He smiles a little, but it’s
too sad to make me feel really, truly better.
I tear my eyes away from Axl and focus
on Joshua. “What was it before?”
“One hundred and four point nine,” he
says. “Strep or not, the antibiotics are kicking in.”
No wonder they thought I was dying.
“How do you feel?” Axl asks.
I try to sit up, and it’s no surprise
when he helps me. “The aches are almost gone and I’m not as cold.” I have to
whisper because my throat is still killing me. I swallow and cringe. “My throat
is still just as swollen.”
“A couple days and that will be better
too,” Joshua says.
He lets out a sigh and a genuine smile
crosses his face. He looks—relieved. Maybe after all the death of the last few
weeks, he needed this. A simple illness that didn’t result in a horrible,
painful end.
“You should eat,” he says. “I’ll run to
the café and get you some soup.” He grabs his pants and pulls them on.
Axl doesn’t move from my side. His hand
is still on my shoulder. “I should tell Angus.”
“I’ll stop by their room on my way to
the café.” Joshua is out the door before anyone can stop him.
My heart swells, and tears come to my
eyes. I’m so thankful for this group of strangers. That they were willing to
take care of me. To put their lives on hold while the world ended. Just for me.
No one has ever done anything like that for me before. Not even my own parents.
“You need anythin’?” Axl asks. He
finally moves his hand. He puts it on his leg and stares down at it, flexing
his fingers for a moment like he doesn’t recognize it.
I start to tell him I’m okay, but stop.
“I need to go to bathroom.”
My legs shake when I try to stand. I
haven’t had much to eat or drink in two days.
Axl is by my side before I can even take
a step. “I’ll help.”
He puts his hand on my arm and supports
me while I walk toward the bathroom. I think I could probably manage on my own,
but it’s comforting, so I don’t protest. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to follow
me in. I vaguely remember a few times over the last couple days when I was
feverish and not really with it where he might have. I try to push the thought
from my mind. It doesn’t matter now, because I am going to live.
You are not going to die.
I
let out a huge sigh of relief. I was so sure this was the end.
When I’m done, I head out to wash my
hands. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It doesn’t look anything like
me. My skin is pale and moist with sweat. The make-up smeared under my eyes
gives my face a hollow and terrifying appearance. My greasy, blonde hair clings
to my head. I probably smell.
“I need a shower.”
“Go ‘head. There’s probably a long line
at the café,” Axl says from behind me.
“Is my suitcase in here?”
“I’ll get it. Go ‘head and jump in.”
“Thanks.”
The shower isn’t hot. More like
lukewarm. But I can’t complain. I can practically feel the layers of sweat and
sick slide off me. I don’t spend a lot of time, not because of the water, but
because I’m weak. It wore me out just to strip off my clothes. Standing in the
shower to wash my hair makes my legs shaky. I sit on the floor of the tub to
rinse off.
When I turn the water off, I pull myself
to my feet, holding onto the wall for support. I shiver. The air is cold and my
fever still isn’t completely gone. My body is covered with goosebumps. I find a
towel hanging just outside the shower and grab it, hoping to get warm. But it’s
cheap. Scratchy and thin. It’s soaked by the time I’ve wiped myself down. I
wrap it around me anyway. It’s barely big enough to go completely around my
body.
I head back out into the bedroom, still
wet, barely covered, and shivering. All I want at this point is find something
warm and comfortable to wear.
Axl is laying on the bed when I walk
out. My suitcase is on the floor by the sink. He sits up but doesn’t move, and
I lower myself next to him on the edge of the bed. I’m exhausted.
“Can you bring my suitcase over here?” I
whisper, not looking at him.
He grabs the suitcase without saying
anything. My stomach flutters when he walks back and I pull the towel tighter.
The idea of getting dressed in front of him has me nervous. Why? I was a
stripper. But this is different somehow. Like a first date or something.
He sets it next to me, but doesn’t move.
I keep my eyes down as I dig through it. I find a clean pair of underwear and a
bra, black and lacy. I set them aside while I search for a shirt and some
pants. When I look up his eyes are on my skimpy undergarments. I chew on my
bottom lip. What’s he thinking? I’m still too sick to really focus on this
thing between us, but that doesn’t stop my heart from beating faster.
Thankfully, he turns away without me
having to ask. I bite back a smile while I get dressed, thinking about the
rough guy I met a few days ago. Where did this guy come from?
I pull on my clothes as fast as I can,
then wrap the towel around my wet hair. “I’m decent.”
Axl turns back and stares at me. Totally
silent.
I swallow and wait for him to say
something.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he finally says.
I can’t read his expression, but his eyes are soft.
“Me too,” I whisper.
