The dinner was to be served buffet style, with museum visitors going through the line and serving themselves. The caterers were still organizing the enormous containers of food on two long, cloth covered tables in preparation for the meal and Jenny watched them without really seeing their actions, her mind stuttering over transient impressions of doom and gloom and anxieties. Even she herself could not say if they were brought on by her claustrophobia, or if the feelings were something more, a subconscious warning based on what she’d witnessed in the cavern that housed the bacteria display.
The dinner delay didn’t bother Jenny at all, as she was beginning to have a real issue with her asthma, and wasn’t certain that she’d be able to eat even a few bites of food. She sat, clutching her trembling fingers together, and stared at the catering staff as conversation at the table flowed animatedly around her. She was not a part of the friendly chatter; her mind was wholly consumed with other worries.
Would she be able to control her asthma until the night’s activities were over? Already, the constriction of the tiny structures of her lungs was forming an intense pressure in her chest. The feeling was disturbing, though she’d felt it many times before, causing her heart to pound in dread of the coming attack.
She also wondered why the security guard had acted so strangely. Was the man on drugs? Was he mentally unstable? Or, was it the environment that had caused his overreaction? Could the strange quality of the air be affecting the man in some way?
And why did the air in the mines seem so odd to her? She’d been underground before, when she’d explored the Rushmore caves years ago in South Dakota, and the air underground there had not had the same odd quality that it had in the mines. There had been no odd chemical undertone. A slight wheeze escaped her lips, despite her attempts to control her breathing, and she once again patted her pocket, just to feel the comforting weight of her inhaler.
Hers was a rescue inhaler, and she rarely used it. Only when it became absolutely necessary did she use the inhaler, preferring, if possible, not to pollute her body with pharmaceuticals. Despite her reticence to use it, she was grateful to have the inhaler for emergencies. It was becoming more and more obvious to her that this night might be one of those times when it could become absolutely necessary.
“… right, Jenny?” Debbie asked.
Jenny started out of her own thoughts, a bit embarrassed that she’d missed Debbie’s question. Gilbert’s auburn-haired girlfriend seemed to be very nice, and Jenny had liked her as soon as they’d met. She hated to imagine that Debbie might think her rude because of her distracted manner.
Jenny smiled, “I’m sorry, what?”
Debbie smiled back at her. A genuine, kind smile, not one of the fake smiles that Jenny encountered so often when she met with editors or publicists or fellow authors at writing conventions. “I was just saying that the actor’s performance tonight is particularly amusing. Would you agree?”
Jenny nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, glad that Debbie didn’t seem offended by her distraction, “Yes, he is very good. Have you attended one of their performances before?”
Jenny tried to focus on Debbie’s answer, but the pressure in her lungs, the tight, awful feeling that preceded a bad asthma attack, was becoming worse by the second. Jenny watched Debbie’s mouth move as she formed words, but the words themselves seemed to float away on the wave of panic that overtook Jenny as the crushing feeling in her chest worsened.
In that second, Jenny realized that something was drastically wrong. Her asthma was usually not this severe, nor did it ever present with strong symptoms so quickly. And the feeling of crushing pressure had never, ever been so intense before. Jenny had known that the dusty, underground environment would cause her some asthmatic distress, but she’d thought the onset would be slow, as it usually was, and that she’d be able to make it through the night without having to use her inhaler. But her lungs now felt as if they were in a vice, and Jenny could no longer hold back her coughing.
Debbie looked startled as Jenny began to cough explosively.
Jenny tried to give her a small smile, feeling a hot blush suffuse her face as mortification rolled over her. These were Stone’s friends, and she’d meant to make a good impression. A red-faced, wheezing, coughing mess of a woman did not make a good impression.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny wheezed to the table in between coughs as she quickly got to her feet. “Please excuse me.”
Her words came out so softly as to be almost inaudible, and Jenny hoped that they’d heard, because she had no breath left in her lungs to use to say anything more. Groping for her inhaler in her pocket, she turned to rush from the room. She’d always felt humiliated having to administer her inhaler in front of others, and preferred to do it in private, but this time she doubted her ability to make it to a private area before she passed out from lack of air. Her lungs were on fire now, burning and aching with an intensity that she had never felt before. This was truly a monster of an attack, she thought as she staggered toward the exit to the cavern.
Several of the museum staff members eyed her warily, as if they thought she might be contagious, and Jenny longed to tell them that it was simply asthma, and she’d be fine as soon as she used her inhaler. She wasn’t contagious or a danger to them. She didn’t have the flu that was currently making the rounds in Hawkington. But she couldn’t say a word. No air seemed to be getting into her lungs. None at all.
Spots began to dot her vision and her eyes burned with tears of pain.
Stone appeared at her side and took her elbow in one hand while flinging his other arm around her back, gripping her torso securely. He practically lifted her off of her feet as he hustled her from the room, and she was once again grateful for his seemingly endless strength. The man was so strong.
“Excuse us,” he mumbled as he pushed their way through a small group of staff near the exit. “My fiancé is having an asthma attack and needs to take her inhaler.”
“Shouldn’t really be down here if her asthma is that bad, should she?” one of the men said snidely. “Seems like most people would have more sense than that.”
Jenny’s chest hurt too badly for her to even be affronted at the comment, but Stone’s voice was angry as he bumped past the guy a little more roughly than truly necessary, “If you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll find her and apologize for that comment as soon as she’s feeling better.”
Stone had her out of the room before she could hear the man’s reply. He drew her quickly around a corner, where there was some privacy, and then propped her up against the tunnel’s salt wall while he dug her inhaler out of her pocket.
He uncapped it with steady hands, pressing her against the wall with his body to keep her upright, and shook it vigorously before he held it to her mouth. Before becoming a military police officer, Stone had been an EMT. Not only did the man know his way around weapons of any kind, he knew his way around an inhaler, too. If she’d have had the energy, she’d have grinned. The man truly was absolutely perfect for her.
She sucked in a long breath of the vaporized medication as he depressed the plunger and actually felt the mist hit her lungs. She realized immediately that something was still not right. In fact, something was truly wrong. The usually soothing mist of medication seemed to dig into the delicate tissues of her lungs instead of calming them, and she felt like she’d been punched in the chest with a thousand tiny needles.
She flattened her back against the wall and pushed the inhaler away, gasping in pain. Her eyes watered freely now, tears streaming, but she still could not talk.
“What is it?” Stone said, his face now creased with worry and his warm chocolate eyes resting on her torso as she ineffectually clutched at her chest, as if her fingers could somehow reach through skin and bone and help her lungs draw in life-giving air.
Jenny shook her head, attempting to gulp in another breath. The vise upon her lungs seemed to ease a little, and she was able to draw in a thin trickle of a
ir on a long whistling wheeze.
Stone frowned, his face a mere inch away from hers now. He was looking avidly into her eyes.
“Your pupils are pinpoints, Jenny,” he muttered.
If her lungs hadn’t hurt so badly, Jenny might have been frightened by his tone, which was dire, but as it was she was too concerned with drawing her next breath.
“That’s not good,” he continued. “I’ve seen that with hard drug use, but I know you haven’t taken any hard drugs. Hell, it’s hard enough to get you to use this damn thing.”
He held up the inhaler, shaking it as if preparing it for another dose. “I wish you’d not be so stubborn about taking your inhaler when you need it. Do you need another dose now?”
If Jenny had been able to speak, she’d have told him again why she didn’t like to use the inhaler, and especially not in front of anyone, but as it was, she just shook her head. No, she did not need another dose. The first one had felt as if it were shredding her lungs.
Stone shrugged. “Okay, but if I think you need it, I’m giving you one anyway.”
Jenny wheezed in another thin breath, grimacing.
Stone was still in her face, staring at her pupils. “Causes of pinpoint pupils can be many things. Stroke, drug use, viral or bacterial causes, hemorrhaging of the brain…”
He trailed off. Jenny thought that perhaps he’d noticed that his words were not making her feel any better.
“Damn it, Jenny. You’d better not be having a stroke,” he told her. “We’re not married yet.”
Jenny felt the corners of her mouth tip up and she tried hard not to laugh at his tone. She knew he was only joking to make her feel better, but laughing took up too much oxygen, and she couldn’t indulge in it just then.
The pain in her chest lessened by increments and breathing became easier. Stone stood with her, supporting her against the wall with a hand on her shoulder, while the medicine took effect.
Soon, she was able to breath without a cough threatening to choke her, and able to speak as well.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Stone’s face changed the moment he realized she was going to be okay, showing a hint of irritation. “Jenny, next time, please just take your inhaler when you need it. I think you scared ten years off my life.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said, reaching out to take her inhaler from him. He released her shoulder and fumbled in his pocket for the cap, then handed that to her as well. She capped it and stuck it back in the pocket of her snug, faded jeans.
“Your pupils look normal again,” Stone told her. “That’s weird. Really odd, Jenny. But a relief, too.”
“I didn’t mean to cut it so close, Stone. I thought I’d make it out here no problem. I didn’t want to dose myself in front of your friends, that’s all,” Jenny tried to explain.
Stone shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Baby. You just scared me is all. I understand why you don’t like to take your inhaler in front of other people. It makes you feel weak.”
Jenny nodded, grateful he understood.
“And, like me, you don’t like that feeling. But you’re not weak, Jenny. You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s just one of the many reasons why I love you. Having asthma doesn’t make you weak. So next time, just take the inhaler, and to hell with who is looking.”
Jenny wasn’t so sure about that. She certainly felt weak right at that moment. But she didn’t argue.
“I wish that we could just go home now. I kind of made a spectacle of myself as I exited. I’m sure the whole room heard me gasping for breath,” Jenny sighed. “But, the tour guide said that the lift only operated on a schedule, so I guess we’re stuck here until the end of the show.”
Stone gathered her into an embrace, pulling her against his muscled chest. She felt the strong beat of his heart against her cheek as he stroked her hair. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That was one hell of an attack. I’ve never seen you get so bad, so fast.”
Jenny nodded as he released her. “I know. It was odd.”
“Let’s get back inside. Gilbert and Debbie are probably worried about you,” Stone said.
Jenny arched a brow at him in question. She’d just met these people. How could they be worried about her?
Stone grinned at her, “They’re good people, Jenny. Of course they would worry about you.”
Jenny wasn’t so sure. As a writer, she was a sort of student of human nature, and, in her experience, most people just didn’t seem too concerned for the well being of strangers.
“We can check in with them to let them know you’re okay, and then, if you still want to, I’ll get us a ride out of here,” Stone assured her.
“No, I’ll stay. I’m feeling better now and I don’t want to ruin the evening for everyone,” Jenny said.
Chapter Five
Jenny was embarrassed as she rejoined the table, since they’d all been witness to the worst asthma attack that she’d ever had, but she needn’t have felt that way. As Stone had said, his friends all showed only concern for her.
Debbie took her hand and patted it in a grandmotherly fashion, though the woman couldn’t have been more than a year older than Jenny’s own twenty-nine years.
“That was just plain scary, the way you couldn’t breath so suddenly. I’m so glad you had an inhaler handy! I never realized that asthma could be so serious. I’m glad you’re okay.” Debbie told her as she continued the hand patting.
Alice volunteered to fill a plate from the buffet line for both Stone and Jenny, so that Jenny could stay at the table and Stone could be there beside her if she needed him. Stone accepted her offer gratefully.
Cheryl and Paul rushed off to get her a glass of iced water, and Gilbert just looked at her from across the table with concern on his face, making none of the wise cracks that had had the entire table rolling with laughter earlier.
Jenny felt rather like an invalid, but she was touched by their concern.
Debbie must have realized that she was uncomfortable with all of the attention, because the wonderful woman quickly steered the conversation on to other topics as soon as Paul and Cheryl returned, asking everyone what their answer would be as they solved the murder mystery. Then, Debbie announced that they should all join the buffet line while there was still a little food left, rescuing Jenny from the need to try to talk as she regained her breath.
Soon, Jenny was breathing normally again, with no telltale wheeze, and the stiff look of concern melted from Stone’s face. Alice brought back their plates, and one for herself, as the buffet line dwindled and soon the rest of their small group returned to the table.
As they all tucked into their meals, the performers began the second act of the murder mystery.
Jenny took a bite of the fluffy mashed potatoes on her place, expecting a burst of buttery goodness on her tongue, but to her surprise, the mashed potatoes tasted like strawberries to her. She took another bite, just to confirm the odd taste. Strawberries, fresh from the garden, met her taste buds instead of taste of mashed potatoes.
She glanced around the table, to see if the others were having similar problems, but only Stone was looking as if his food wasn’t quite right. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow in question, but he just shrugged.
What’s wrong with this food? She wanted to ask him the question, but she wasn’t certain that it wasn’t just a leftover effect of the inhaler messing with her sense of taste.
Jenny sampled the roasted chicken, but the flavor was more like butterscotch pudding than baked meat. The lovely green salad with Ranch dressing tasted like an unsavory tofu dish she’d once had, and the luscious-looking cheesecake slice didn’t taste anything like cheesecake. It was more like garlic bread.
Confused at this plethora of odd tastes, Jenny laid down her fork. It must have been the inhaler that had thrown off her sense of taste so badly. The others, except for Stone, were all consuming their food as if it were ambrosia.
Stone had lain hi
s fork aside as well, and was now watching the actor’s performance as if it were the most engrossing thing he’d seen in three years. His attention was so intense that it seemed a little forced.
She took a sip of her iced water, which, she was relieved to notice, tasted like water should. As she glanced his way again, Stone coughed.
Jenny stared at him intently. Stone did not have asthma.
Stone coughed again, this time violently.
Across the room, there was another bout of violent coughing from another patron. Then across the room, came more coughing.
Stone turned and took a large gulp of water from his glass, and Jenny noticed that his eyes looked strange. They seemed to be all iris and no pupil. His pupils had gotten so small as to be almost invisible inside the deep chocolate color of his irises.
Stone coughed again, and this time, he couldn’t seem to stop coughing.
He staggered to his feet in an awful repeat of her earlier performance and headed for the exit. Jenny thought she could see his lips turning blue as he coughed and coughed as he passed by her.
She leapt from her chair and followed after him, helping him through the exit much as he’d helped her earlier. Though she had none of his strength, she tucked herself under his arm and tried to support his weight as he staggered into the tunnel.
Jenny’s mind was racing. Stone didn’t have asthma. In fact, Stone was as healthy as an ox. He rarely even caught a cold!
Jenny’s heart began to pound in terror as Stone collapsed to his knees, still coughing, just outside the exit. His heavily muscled weight was too much for her to bear, and she went to her knees beside him.
“Stone!” she said, desperately trying to think of something to do for him. He was coughing so violently now that she knew he could not drink water, so she offered him none, though there was a water fountain not three feet from where he’d collapsed.
Deep Down (Sam Stone Book 1) Page 3