by Lyn Gardner
Getting to her feet, Alex winced as a bolt of pain shot down her leg. Grabbing her wounded thigh, she held her breath until the ache dulled, and then she slowly made her way to the dining area. Turning another chair into firewood, after she stoked the hearth with the spindles of oak, she decided her next priority was to get them both out of their wet clothes. Glancing around the room for her knapsack, her brow furrowed. “Where the hell is it?”
Scratching her head, Alex glanced at the door, and realizing what she had done, she rushed outside and began searching the snow-covered porch. At last, finding both her knapsack and Campbell’s cloth carry-on near the stairs, she dusted them off and went to sit by the fire. Emptying the contents of both, she groaned. Snow had made its way inside, and all their clothes were now frozen into solid blocks of fabric.
“Not one of your finer moments, Alexandra,” she said, holding up a pair of her ice-cubed knickers. Dropping them to the floor with a thud, she grabbed the flashlight and said, “Okay, time for Plan B.”
Frowning when the LED bulb dimmed immediately, she switched it off and made her way to the kitchen. When she had first scanned the room, she had noticed a hurricane lamp on the counter, and picking it up, she listened as the oil sloshed in its belly. Alex adjusted the wick, raised the glass and within seconds, the kitchen was filled with a dim, shimmering light.
Crossing her fingers that the owners of the cabin had left behind some clothes, Alex headed down the hallway leading to the back of the cabin, the rough sawn flooring squeaking under her feet as she went. Coming to the first door, she peeked inside and smiled at the conveniences that the bathroom contained. Walking over, she worked the pitcher-pump handle over the tub, but when no water appeared, she simply shrugged her shoulders. “Melted snow it is, then.”
Continuing to the next room, Alex looked inside and sighed. While the room contained metal frames of bunk beds, each had been stripped of their mattresses, pillows and blankets. Taking a deep breath, she headed to the last door at the end of the hall, and saying a quick prayer, Alex stepped inside the room.
Grinning at the sight of the quilt-covered bed, she was about to pull off the patchwork covering when she spied a large trunk at the foot of the bed. Placing the lamp on the floor, Alex opened the latches of the trunk and raised the lid. Her smile grew wide when she saw the stacks of clothing sealed in plastic bags, and quickly grabbing a few, she tossed them on the bed. As she was about to shrug out of her coat, Alex noticed the stone fireplace that filled one wall, and cocking her head to the side, she began replaying in her head what she had just seen.
“Talk it out, Blake,” she muttered. “There’s enough room here to sleep seven or eight, and two enormous fireplaces. You’re not going to come up for a fishing trip and then spend the entire week chopping wood. So where the hell is it?”
Grabbing the oil lamp, she strode up the hallway, and exchanged it for the flashlight. Pounding it against the palm of her hand until the light grew bright; she headed back outside into the storm.
Steadying herself against the gale-force winds, Alex fought her way down the stairs, and struggling through the drifts as the ice and snow pelted her face, she trudged toward the side of the cabin. Turning the corner, she aimed the flashlight into the darkness and when she saw an unusually tall drift of snow a few feet away, she exclaimed, “Bingo!”
Sweeping her arm across the tarp to clear away the snow, she found the cord near the bottom and worked out the knots. Pulling back the canvas, she wasted no time in filling her arms, and even though her thigh still ached, Alex pushed past the pain until she had stacked enough firewood in the cabin to last them the night.
After placing some logs on the fire, Alex carried an armful down the hall, and a few minutes later, with the help of the pages from yet another paperback, the hearth in the bedroom began to glow with warmth. Although desperate to get out of her wet clothes, her mind returned to Maggie, and Alex let out a sigh. She was freezing, but Maggie was sick.
Wearily, she limped up the hallway and knelt by Maggie’s side. One quick check of the woman’s temperature told Alex that the fever had come back. Realizing that Maggie’s prophecy of her own death might very well come true, Alex began to try to shake her awake. She had questions that only Maggie could answer.
“Campbell…Campbell, you need to wake up. Come on, woman, open your eyes.”
Jostling Maggie as hard as she dared, Alex was quickly running out of ideas, and after several minutes, totally exasperated, Alex sat back and frowned. “How in the hell am I supposed to wake you up?”
Glancing at the kitchen, Alex spied the red and white curtain under the sink. Smiling, she walked over and pushed it aside. Rummaging through the aerosol cans and assorted cleaners, she pulled out a plastic pail and behind it, she found her answer. Taking the bottle, she returned to Maggie’s side, and pulling her into her lap, Alex opened the cap and held the ammonia under Maggie’s nose.
It took only a few seconds for the fumes to find their way, and when they did, they shocked Maggie into consciousness with a jolt. Coughing and sputtering at the vile smell, she opened her eyes for the first time in hours.
“Okay, that’s better,” Alex said, putting the bottle aside. Gently lowering Maggie to the floor, Alex asked, “Campbell, can you hear me?”
When she didn’t answer, Alex grabbed the lapels of Maggie’s suit jacket and shouted, “Campbell, God damn it, wake up!”
Wincing, Maggie mumbled, “I’m awake. I’m awake.”
Fearing the fever would send Maggie back into unconsciousness before she got the answers she needed, when Alex began to speak, her voice was loud, clear and demanding.
“I need to know what the doctors did in the hospital when you got sick.”
“What?” Maggie said in a breath, fighting to stay away from the darkness shrouding her brain.
“In the hospital, when you got sick. What did the doctors do to fight the fever?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, Christ,” Alex growled as her anger began to build. “Campbell, come on. I’m trying to save your life here, now think! What the hell did they do?”
Taking a few ragged breaths, Maggie said, “I…I was on an IV…”
“Great,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “What else?”
“Medicine…drugs…to lower the fever…”
Remembering the bottle of aspirin she had stolen from the airport bathroom, a faint grin appeared on Alex’s face. “Okay, that’s good. What else?”
“I don’t remember…”
Grabbing the ammonia, Alex removed the cap. Shoving it under Campbell’s nose, she allowed the potent fumes to bring the woman, once again, back to reality. Choking on the pungent odor, Maggie opened her eyes and looked up at the woman staring down at her. Alex’s expression said it all. She was worried.
Alex had long ago committed Maggie’s face to memory. She knew that the color of her skin was the warmest of ivories and when Maggie smiled, the smallest of dimples appeared on her cheeks. She knew that the tiniest of laugh lines existed at the corners of her eyes, and in those green eyes, which Alex adored so much, were flecks of gold swimming amidst the emerald. It was a face that had kept her awake many a night. It was one that had caused her to dream marvelous dreams, but now those dreams had turned into a nightmare. Dark circles had formed under Maggie’s eyes, and with her skin appearing almost bloodless, it looked as if she was wearing a death mask made of the whitest of porcelains. Alex swallowed hard at the sight, and the truth finally hit home. If she couldn’t find a way to keep the fever in check, Maggie Campbell was going to die.
Alex’s eyes filled with concern, and leaning in close, she said quietly, “I’m trying to save your life. Please, Maggie, I’m begging you. Try to think. Was there anything else?”
As she felt sleep beckoning to her, Maggie remembered a time when she was a child, and a fever had racked her small body almost to the point of seizure. Her father had held her under a cold shower until the me
dics had arrived. She remembered the sting of the IVs as they were inserted, and voices of men shouting at her to wake up, telling her to hold on, assuring her that she’d be okay…and then she was cold.
“Maggie, please…try to think,” Alex pleaded. “Come on, darling. I don’t want you to die.”
Doing her best to focus on the Alex’s face, Maggie managed one more word before blacking out again. “Ice.”
The word echoed in Alex’s head, and glancing toward the front door, she thought about her options. Knowing that she didn’t have the strength to drag Maggie outside, she wasted no time in retrieving the bucket from under the sink and heading back out into the storm.
***
Alex was exhausted. Drained of every ounce of energy she had, she had lost track of time as she continued to sit by Maggie’s side, swapping warm scraps of fabric with snow-coated ones and placing them across the woman’s fevered brow. Placing her hand repeatedly on Maggie’s forehead, Alex prayed that the fever would ease, and finally, it did. Taking a ragged breath, she struggled to her feet, and going outside to fill the pail with more snow, she bolted the door and then slowly and painfully limped down the hall to the bedroom.
Her head was pounding from a wound that she had yet to see, and her leg ached from hip to foot. Rapidly running out of steam, it was all she could do to grab a few bags of clothes from the bed before she slumped to the floor in front of the fireplace. Placing the pail close enough to the fire so the snow would melt, Alex pulled off her shoes and socks, and let out a sigh of relief. Even though her feet felt like ice, she couldn’t see any sign of frostbite. Stretching her legs, she allowed the heat of the fire to slowly warm her feet, waiting as long as it took until she could finally wiggle her toes without pain. Untying the paisley scarf from around her thigh, she fought her way out of her wet jeans and examined the damage left by the steel spire that had pierced her.
Swallowing back the saliva building in her mouth, Alex dipped the scarf into the bucket of slush and wiped away the blood coating her leg. Pleased to discover that the gash on the front was small, it only took her a few minutes before she was satisfied it was clean, but when she tried to see the entry wound on the back of her leg, she wasn’t so lucky. No matter how she twisted or turned, it was impossible to see. With no other options, she blindly cleaned the wound, tied the scarf around her leg and hoped for the best. After tugging on a pair of blue sweatpants, she tossed her shirt and bra aside and quickly replaced them with an oversized flannel shirt. Placing her boots by the fire to dry, she covered her feet with a pair of thick gray and orange socks that were so soft they made her smile. She was finally warm.
She rested her head on the bed for only a moment to gather her thoughts, but that was all it took. Alex wouldn’t wake up for another three hours.
Chapter Seven
Startled from her dreams by the sound of distant whimpers and unintelligible moans, Alex’s eyes popped open. Scrambling to her feet, she hobbled up the hallway just in time to see Maggie’s hand narrowly miss the coffee table as she flailed about with fever.
“Shit!” Alex said, rushing to her side. Pushing the furniture out of the way, she placed her hand on Maggie’s forehead and winced. The fever had turned deadly and Alex’s heart began to race.
“Well, I hoped that it wasn’t going to have to come to this,” Alex said, pulling Maggie into her arms. “But it looks like it’s time to go play in the snow.”
With a grunt and a groan, Alex struggled to her feet. Getting to the door, she managed to throw the lock, and the storm did the rest. The force of the wind pushed the door open, and as it swung back and hit the wall, Alex stepped out into the blizzard.
Somewhere far above the clouds the sun had finally made an appearance, but the storm had swallowed up its brilliance, and the day was almost as dark as night. Squinting through the snow and wind to find the stairs, Alex misjudged the first and yelped as she and Maggie tumbled down the steps. Landing with a soft thud, it took only a few seconds for Alex to get to her knees, and mindless of the ache in her leg, she began sweeping snow over Maggie. Covering her up to her neck in the white powder, Alex prayed that her amateurish attempt to rein in the fever would work.
For three years, Alex had succeeded in building walls around her heart so her feelings for Maggie Campbell would remain hidden, but the bricks and mortar were now starting to crumble. Wearing only a flannel shirt, sweatpants and socks, Alex was shivering uncontrollably, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside for her boots or coat. Fearing that if she left Maggie for a moment, she would die, Alex remained by her side, replacing the snow each time a gust of wind blew it away.
After several minutes, Alex saw Maggie’s eyes flutter open. “Hey there,” she said, leaning closer so Maggie could hear her through the wind.
Shivering, Maggie focused on the voice, and waiting until her vision cleared, she looked up at Alex.
“I’m…I’m…cold,” she said through chattering teeth.
Grinning, Alex held out her hand. “Yeah. Me too. What say we get you inside?”
“Please,” Maggie replied weakly as Alex helped her to her feet.
Maggie managed to climb the stairs on her own, but by the time she reached the door, her strength was gone. Feeling her knees begin to buckle, she reached out to steady herself, and then found herself being swept off the porch into Alex’s arms.
“Put me down,” she groused halfheartedly.
“Not on your life.”
“I can walk.”
“Yeah, like a drunken sailor,” Alex said, carrying her into the house. Wincing as she kicked the door closed, she plodded to the bedroom and placed Maggie on the floor in front of the fireplace.
“How you doing?” Alex asked, quickly pulling off her snow-covered socks and replacing them with another pair from the trunk.
“I’m…I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Hold on, I’ll get you some water.”
Leaving the room for a moment, she came back carrying the partially filled bottle of water from the plane. “Here, but drink it slowly,” Alex said, handing her the bottle.
Hoping that it would ease the pain in her throat, Maggie greedily gulped the water for a few seconds before Alex pulled it away.
“I told you to take it slowly. I don’t want you throwing it all back up,” she scolded. Eyeing Maggie for a moment, Alex gave her the bottle again. “Small sips, all right?”
“Okay.”
Waiting until Maggie took a few more sips, Alex said, “We really need to get you out of those wet clothes.”
“What’s the point?” Maggie said with a sigh.
Sitting back on her haunches, Alex scratched her head. “Why do you want to die?”
“I…I don’t, but there’s nothing you can do for me and we both know it. I’m in God’s hands now,” Maggie said in a weak and raspy voice.
“Well, God can’t have you until I’m done with you,” Alex said, grabbing Maggie by the lapels of her suit jacket and pulling her into a sitting position. Quickly unbuttoning the jacket, Alex pushed it from her shoulders and lowered her back to the floor. Cupping Maggie’s chin in her hand, she said, “I’m not going to let you die. Do you understand that? You’re too young. You’re too strong, and…and you’re too damn beautiful for me to allow that to happen.”
“I thought you hated me,” Maggie whispered.
Shaking her head, Alex frowned. “When you’re feeling better, you and I can have a long, philosophical discussion about our differences, but I don’t think now is the time, do you? We need to get you out of those wet clothes and into a warm bed before you pass out again.”
Feeling no need to wait for an answer, Alex was about to remove Maggie’s sweater when she noticed blood on the material. Seeing an even larger stain on Maggie’s gray trousers, Alex held her breath as she lifted the hem of the sweater. Hissing at the sight of the gash as it came into view, Alex asked, “Did you know
about this?”
“Yeah, it must have happened when we crashed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alex asked, but before Maggie could respond, Alex answered her own question. “Never mind, I forgot. God’s hands, right?”
“I didn’t want to slow you down. I thought if it was bad…I would just—”
“Jesus! You’re a piece of work. Do you know that?” Alex growled as she stood up and snatched up the bucket still sitting by the fireplace. Storming from the room, she yelled over her shoulder, “I’m going to try to find something to clean that up. Do me a favor and don’t die before I get back!”
Maggie couldn’t fault Alex for being angry. If their roles had been reversed, she would have been equally confused over someone’s nonchalant acceptance of their own death, but Alex didn’t know all the facts, and Maggie did.
More than once in her life, she had ended up in the hospital when one of the most common of illnesses resulted in a fever that over-the-counter medication could not control. Influenza was her enemy, and Maggie knew it. She always took all the precautions, and every year she was first in line for her vaccination against the newest strain, but it didn’t guarantee that another strain wouldn’t get through, and this year, one had. Maggie knew that her fever would go from tepid to torrid and back again over the next few days before eventually taking a turn for the worse, and this time, it would be worse. This time there were no doctors to save her. This time would be the last time.
Alex’s first stop had been the bathroom in her hunt for something to use as a bandage, but after checking the small closet and medicine cabinet, and finding them both stripped bare, she rushed to the kitchen. Pulling open every drawer and door, her annoyance began to build. They were all empty. Everything was gone.