“Straight.” Dean’s eyes moved around to those who watched him. “Robbie had entered fully into the virus stage of deterioration. With the right antiserum it can be reversed. This will reverse it but I don’t know how quickly, and that’s where the problem lies. The symptoms of this virus are as deadly as the disease itself. We have to hope that with care, Robbie does not succumb to the symptoms before the agent I’m going to give him takes effect.”
“So basically,” Joe said, “It’s like cutting off the cancerous limb and hoping it didn’t spread?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Then I suggest you do what you have to do, Dean.”
Dean clenched the already prepared syringe he held in his hand. “Wish me luck.”
Luck wasn’t the only thing they wanted to happen when all of them watched Dean leave with the syringe. Results were what they needed and wanted most. An air of silence took over the room as a hush, replacing the silliness of the arguments and joking around that had happened moments earlier. Though they stood with a glass window separating them, Frank, Ellen, and Johnny in the mobile, Joe and Henry outside, they all stood in thought for the same thing. With all of their hearts they wanted what Dean had to work on Robbie.
<><><><>
It was time for Frank to leave. Ellen stood in the doorway of Robbie’s room watching him for a few more minutes as he stared helplessly at his brother lying in that bed. She could tell and she could feel the pull how much Frank wanted to reach out and nurse him, wipe him down like Ellen had done so many times while he held his bedside vigil with Robbie. But he couldn’t. All he could do was keep his distance, hands folded over his goatee and watch.
“Frank.” Ellen spoke so soft that her voice cracked a little. “It’s time to go. You have to leave now.”
“I know.” He nodded. “He is so sick, El. It’s been ten hours since Dean gave him that drug. The only thing that has happened is he has gotten worse.”
“We have to wait, Frank.” Ellen walked up behind him laying her hand on his shoulder. “Dean said it moves slowly.”
“But this virus doesn’t. Why is he so sick already? None of the other men were this sick in this stage, were they?”
Ellen shook her head. “No. As near as we can tell, Robbie may have come down with it a day earlier than he admitted. He’s strong, Frank. He wouldn’t give in to it. He wouldn’t let it get him down.”
“But it did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He’s my baby brother, El.” Frank slowly stood up. “It’s hard to watch this.”
“I know.”
“Tell me this isn’t going to be the last time I see my brother alive.”
“I can tell you I will do everything I can to make sure the next time you see him, he’s better. I’ll try, Frank. I’ll try as hard as I can.”
“I know you will.” Frank took one more look back at Robbie. “I’d better go. Johnny’s waiting isn’t he?”
“Yes he is.” She held out her hand. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You’ll stay with him, right?” Frank asked as they left the trailer and moved to the mobile lab.
“I won’t leave his side.”
“Give him a kiss for me, El.”
“I will.” She closed her eyes as they reached the door.
“Take care of my brother.”
“You don’t even have to say that to me. You know I will.” She reached her hand up and laid it on his face. “Stop by and see me tomorrow and I’ll let you know everything.”
“I will.” Frank leaned down to her but stopped before he instinctively kissed her. He stepped back, placed his lips to his fingers and laid his fingers to her lips. “I’ll see you.” He reached for the door. “Be good in here.”
“I will.” Ellen sadly folded her arms. “Frank?” She stopped him as he opened the door. “Thank you for everything you did for me today. Even though Joe down plays it, I don’t.”
“You’re welcome,” Frank smiled. “Just so you know, my father only down plays it because it pisses you off.”
“I knew that but I didn’t think you did.”
“Please, I’m the smart one here.” He paused in his leaving when he heard her snicker. He shook his head at her. “Good night.”
Holding the edge of the door, Ellen stepped to him. “Goodnight, Frank.” After he stepped out, she closed the lab door, refolded her arms, and walked toward the trailer to join Dean. A few steps into her walk, she heard the lab door reopen. Ellen turned around to see Frank who had only stuck his head in.
“El . . . I love you.”
Before she could say anything, the lab door had closed and she heard the starting of the Jeep’s engine. The only thing she could do was go to the window. She watched, fingers pressed to the glass leaving smudge marks, as Frank and Johnny drove back into town. She waited until the tail lights were no longer seen and she headed to the trailer to do what she had told Frank she’d do. Take care of Robbie.
<><><><>
Frank knew the moment he walked into his home, just before ten p.m. and a little over the actual fourteen hours he had to put into quarantine, that Henry had a hell night. Henry’s head was flopped over the arm of the couch. His arm hung to the floor and his long hair draped like a disguise over him so much his face wasn’t seen. What had he done, sat down to take a break and just passed out? That was how it looked to Frank. Worried that his closest friend would end up with either a headache or one hell of a stiff neck, Frank decided to help him out. He slammed the door to the house loudly it caused Henry to spring up to a sitting position and his hair to flop forward onto his face. “Sorry, Henry. Did I wake you?”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Right.” Frank stepped into the living room. “Nice hair.”
Henry grunted and ran his finger through it to straighten it. “How was Robbie?”
“Worse.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“How were the kids?”
“Difficult.” Henry plopped backwards. “Good thing Joe stayed until they fell asleep. Actually it was good thing Josh and Denny were here to wear them out only I think their antics wore me out. I’m beat.”
“Eh.” Frank waved his hand at him. “It just takes practice and then you’ll be a pro. You don’t always get this worn out. Is Josh home now?”
“No, he’s staying at Andrea’s.”
“Oh.” Frank raised his head in an acknowledging nod. “Well, I’ll let you get to sleep. I’m gonna head to bed myself. Goodnight Henry.” He walked to the steps and stopped. “Henry? You aren’t really mad that I spent all that time with Ellen in quarantine, are you?”
“No.” Henry shook his head. “Sorry I was like that. I was just upset that she was mad at me. You know how I get.”
“Yeah I do.”
“Is she still mad at me Frank?”
“Nah,” Frank said dramatically stepping toward the stairs. “She’s over it. Goodnight.”
“Frank.”
Frank’s hand slid on the railing stopping on the second step. “Yeah?”
“Are you all right? Do you need to talk?”
“No. I’m fine. I just need to sleep that’s all.” He let out a long breath. “It’s been a hell of a day. A long day.” Gripping the stair railing tighter, Frank motioned his head in his final goodnight wave and walked up the steps. He felt a certain antsyness about him, an uneasy feel about the whole day. He felt so down after spending the entire evening sitting in a room with a brother who stopped talking and failed to wake from his deep sleep.. Needing to have that touch of good, Frank stopped in both bedrooms on the journey to his own room. One at a time, he kissed each child, touched them, and took a moment over each and every one to say a little prayer of gratefulness, thanking God for bringing them into his life. The healthy look that each one of them possessed took a tiny bit of the hurt away from Frank, but not enough.
Walking into his bedroom he closed the door, undid his shoulder harness, and drap
ed it over the headboard of the bed. Sitting on the side of the bed, he took his keys and unlocked the night stand next to him. He grabbed his revolver, reached down, and swung out the night stand door. Placing the revolver inside, he saw it in there and he needed it. After the bad day he had, he really needed it. He pulled out the small bottle of moonshine he kept in there and replaced it with his revolver. Kicking the night stand door closed with his foot, Frank swung his body around to rest against the headboard and brought his legs to his bed. Bringing his knees up and resting his wrists upon them, Frank stared at the bottle that he held with both hands. He told himself before he uncapped the moonshine that he needed a good reason to do so. After staring for a while in thought, he justified his doing so in one word . . . Robbie.
To forget the day, to forget the pain, Frank brought the bottle to his mouth as he lay on his bed and he broke the promise he made to Ellen, to Henry, and more importantly, to himself. Frank began to drink.
<><><><>
“Dean!” Such emotions filled Ellen’s cry over the low humming motor sound of the suction machine. “Please! I can’t hold him much longer!” Her legs were extended as far as they could possibly stretch. One leg was off the double bed, the tip of her toes touching the base of the suction machine to hold it steady in its vibration and other was behind Robbie’s back, holding him up as she secured him with one arm, while suctioning the thick fluid from his lungs. The fluid had backed up to the point that Robbie went into pulmonary arrest, turning blue and gasping for air he could not get.
His back burned against her bare leg. The high fever brought on convulsions that Ellen was surprised she handled. Perhaps she found the strength within her to do so. To fight with him as he fought with what had him.
Robbie’s arm flung up, trying to swat away the tube that extended into his mouth, through his airway, and deep into his lungs. “No, Robbie. Don’t fight me. Please don’t fight me.” Ellen braced him more, turning away her head from his moving hand. “Dean!” She felt Robbie’s head bang back onto her shoulder over and over. “Robbie, hold on. Just hold on. Come on.”
The running thumps of his feet brought Dean charging into the bedroom. “It’s ready.”
“It’s now or never, Dean.”
“We can do this, El. We can do this. Brace him with everything you got.” Dean grabbed hold of the suctioning tube as he watched Ellen wrap not only her arms around him, but her legs as well. Dean brought his body to the bed, leaning the majority of his weight on Robbie’s legs as he controlled the suctioning. “Almost there.” He held Robbie’s chin. “Almost done, Robbie.” He listened for the sounds of the moisture that ran through the tube to slow in consistency. “Hold tight, just hold tight.”
“Dean, why is he like this? Why is he so bad?”
“I don’t know.” Dean shook his head as he worked, watching Robbie’s eyes roll totally to the back of his head.
“It’s out of control.”
“I know.” Dean reached over and shut off the suction. “Keep him steady.” Securing Robbie’s throat, Dean removed the suctioning tube. When it emerged, Robbie gasped loudly. Grabbing his stethoscope, Dean placed it in his ears and then to Robbie’s chest. He slid it over his shoulder, slipping the diaphragm in between Robbie and Ellen’s body. He listened. “Better. Much better.” He took off the stethoscope and tossed it. “Ready, El? We have to lower his body temp now.”
“I’m ready.”
Dean stepped from the bed and on to the floor. He braced Robbie under the arms so Ellen could slide out. Together, after a three count, they lifted him to his feet. Dean stood on one side, Ellen on the other, and they dragged a slumping Robbie, who wore only a thin pair of boxer shorts, to the waiting bath tub Dean had already filled.
“Dean? How are we going to do this?” Ellen asked, standing before the tub.
“Carefully. I’ll hold him while you finish undressing him.”
Ellen released her hold once she knew Dean was secure, and she took the remainder of Robbie’s clothes from him. “We’ll never lift him Dean. He’s out.”
“Never say never.” Ellen's arms were behind Robbie’s back where Dean’s arm spanned across. Dean’s hand locked on to Ellen’s wrist. “Lock our arms.”
Ellen braced his wrist. “Got it.”
“Grab hold under his leg. Get your grip.” He waited until she did. “Now on three, using your legs, lift him with me. Ready?”
“I can do this.”
“I know you can. One . . . two . . . three.” So loudly they grunted. Red faced and struggling, they lifted Robbie and lowered him to the water, not two feet away.
Upon Robbie’s connection to the water, he somehow woke up and he began to thrash from the warm water that felt so cold against him. Both Ellen and Dean maintained a hold that grew harder with each thrash Robbie did.
“Dean, this is impossible. How are we going to keep him in here?”
“I’ll hold him. You wipe down.”
Ellen let go of her hold. “I have a better idea. He has to stay in there right?” She stood to her feet and hurriedly took off her shirt.
“El, what are you doing?”
Ellen stepped into the tub and sat down. She spread out her legs, one to each side of Robbie and with Dean’s help they lowered him, back first, onto Ellen.
“You have him?”
“Yes.” Ellen nodded when Robbie stopped convulsing and he only trembled. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as his head rested back to just under her chin. “I have him now. Hand me the cloth.”
Dean did. And he watched Ellen proceed to carefully wipe him down. “El.”
“I think he’s calmed down now, Dean. We’re fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Go clean up his room and change the sheets so it’s fresh when we put him back in bed. I just want to hold him and help him.”
“All right.” Dean stepped back. “But call me if you need me. Remember, just because he’s calm now doesn’t mean he won’t start again.”
“I know. Go.” She waited for Dean to leave and Ellen picked up the wash cloth, drenched it, and wrung it out letting the stream pour across Robbie’s chest. Once Dean was gone, Ellen held Robbie tighter. “Fight, Robbie. You fight. Please.”
“El.” He weakly said her name.
“I’m right here.” Ellen pressed Robbie’s face close to her own. “Just hold on.” She softly kissed Robbie on the cheek. The moment she did so, she felt an aching growing in her throat that tightened up the words she tried to get out. “Hold on.”
Feeling the slight shake of his body, the rumbling of his chest, and his shallow breathing, Ellen clung to him even more. She pulled his back into her and held his whole body with all of hers. “Just hold on and beat this thing, Robbie.” Seeing Robbie’s hand reach out for something that wasn’t there and hearing the mumbling of words that made no sense, Ellen planted her cheek to his. “I’ll help you if you need me to. Hold on.” Closing her eyes, she laid her lips to his face and tasted the saltiness of her own tears as they rolled down between the connection of her and him. Such a sadness filled her while she held Robbie, such a hurt. Though she longed to give Robbie the strength she had, or the fortitude, she couldn’t. At that moment, the strength would have to wait. She had none left herself. All Ellen could do was hold him tightly, her body trembling with his, and cry.
<><><><>
“I know you’re doing all that you can for my son, Dean. Just let him know that we love him very much.”
“I will, Joe.”
The final words of Dean’s conversation with Joe stayed with him as he gathered the things he would take back into the bathroom with him. Having to call Joe and tell him was so hard for Dean. How do you tell a father that his son had unexpectedly taken such a turn for the worse, that it made even Dean’s head spin? The virus had turned more violent than any of the reports of the illness Robbie had sent.
Dean heard no sounds as he approached the bathroom door. No splashing, no
movement. It was almost too quiet and that scared Dean.
He held out a robe and laid it on the commode for Ellen who turned her head away from him when he walked in. She stared at the wall, her cupped hand brought to her mouth. Grabbing two towels, Dean set them on the floor, then knelt upon another at the tub’s side. He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and listened to Robbie’s chest.
Ellen sniffled then wiped her hand across her face. She spoke nasally, almost as if her voice had disappeared somewhere deep in her. “I’m holding him and he’s not moving. I’m so afraid. I think I feel him breathe. I think I feel a pulse but he’s not moving. I’m so afraid what I feel is my imagination that I’m not feeling a heartbeat or a breath. Please tell me, Dean. Please tell me he’s still alive.”
Slowly Dean lowered the stethoscope and set it on the floor. He swallowed, “Barely.”
Ellen whimpered and held Robbie again.
“El.” Dean grabbed the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his arm. “I can tell his fever is down some. It's enough to get him out of the tub. We have to get him out.” He began to take his pressure.
Ellen listened to the ripping Velcro sound. “How low is it?”
“Too low.”
“He’s dying on me, Dean. He’s dying.” Ellen let out a single sob then with tightly closed eyes, she buried her head into Robbie’s.
Dean listened to Ellen cry like he hadn’t heard her do in so long. “El.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Strength. You have to be strong.”
“I can’t.”
“Bullshit. I watched a hundred pound woman help lift a man twice her weight and then support him. That’s strong. That’s not just coming from your body, that is coming from within you. Use that, feed on that, because we’re not done yet.” Dean slowly shook his head. “We are not done yet.”
A long sniffle from Ellen echoed in the quiet bathroom. She looked at Dean who stared at her. “Take hold of him, Dean. We’ll get him back to bed.”
The Inner Struggle: Beginnings Series Book 7 Page 35