by Nathan Jones
Her laughter trailed off and she gave him a “You've got to be kidding me” look, as if it was obvious. Trev thought about it for a moment, then felt his face flush with embarrassment.
Right. Long months confined indoors, with not much to do to stave off the crushing boredom. Of course people with that option would turn to the oldest pastime in existence. Even if it wasn't the most practical thing to do during the harshest winter they'd ever faced, and could even be considered shortsighted. He doubted many people had a stock of contraceptives like Lewis had prepared.
It was an uncomfortable thing to think about under the circumstances, alone in his room with his cute girlfriend and nowhere to go, potentially for days. Especially since she wasn't ready for that to be an option yet.
Trev cleared his throat. “I'll get the cards.”
After the intense morning, and all the intense mornings, afternoons, and evenings of the previous weeks and months, it was almost relaxing to be trapped in by a storm with relatively little to do. He remembered plenty of days like this wintering at the hideout with Lewis last year, although then their main enemy had been boredom and he'd spent more than a little time wishing he had other people to talk to. Especially girls.
This winter that wouldn't be a problem. He had his family around him, and Deb, and when the weather permitted the entire town was just outside.
After a while they wandered into the main room and socialized with the family, playing a few games and talking and just generally enjoying each other's company. But eventually everyone else occupied themselves with their own individual activities, winding down towards sleep, and he and Deb made their way back into his room.
It was colder in there. The stovepipe going through did a lot of work, but the howling wind outside was picking up a frigid bite as night fell, and as carefully as he'd chinked the walls there were still enough tiny cracks and crevices to let in the chill, especially around the outer door.
That cold only got more noticeable as his mom damped the stove in the other room and the stovepipe slowly cooled down. His and Deb's combined body heat wasn't enough to make up the difference, and the cold air seeped up through the bottom of his cot even with the blankets.
Deb eventually noticed him shivering, although he tried to hide it, and looked a bit guilty since she was snug on his bed nestled in a cocoon with even more blankets. “You should get under here with me,” she offered, almost shyly.
Trev jolted as if he'd just stuck his finger in an electrical socket. “Huh?” He felt his face flushing. “Are you sure you . . .” he trailed off, not sure how to put it.
She smiled. “Well I wasn't exactly thinking about that. But it is your room, and it's not like people haven't shared body heat in the winter since the dawn of time.” She bit her lip, slightly nervous. “Although it doesn't have to not be that, either. If you're okay with just keeping it to snuggling.”
Trev was more than okay with that. He brought his blankets over to add to the pile, burrowing in beside his girlfriend. It was much more warm and comfortable than the cot, and even more so after a few minutes when Deb hesitantly leaned against him, pulling at his arms to wrap around her middle.
This was completely new territory, and while he fully enjoyed it he was also more nervous than he'd ever been. His first date had nothing on his current tension, afraid the slightest movement would send her bolting like a startled deer. But she seemed perfectly comfortable, and he tried to ignore his own discomfort and nervousness and just enjoy being there with her.
“How are you doing?” he asked after maybe a half hour of just sitting there holding her in his arms in contented silence.
She made a mumbling noise, sounding almost sleepy, then looked up at him with dark green eyes flecked with brown. “I can't describe this,” she said quietly. “It's like it's the first time I've really felt safe since . . . since before they took me.”
He held her a bit closer, warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with shared body heat. “Good.”
“It is good. Because of you.” Still holding his gaze, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, just for a moment. Trev was so shocked that she'd already pulled away before he even thought to kiss her back, and by then she'd sighed softly and settled her head back against his cheek. He was left still feeling the memory of her lips, trying to figure out what that had meant.
After about fifteen seconds she spoke again, voice playful. “Also after so long sleeping alone, even in a room with a bunch of other people with shared body heat, this warmth is heavenly. I could just sleep forever.”
No arguments there. Holding Deb was like hugging a soft furnace. Even beyond that, though, the simple human contact provided comfort he hadn't even known he'd needed. He wasn't tired yet, but he definitely wouldn't mind holding her if she wanted to sleep forever. Or maybe just a little longer, before he let her settle in for the night and returned to his cot.
His short, narrow, uncomfortable, chilly cot.
Unfortunately since he was a living being with a pulse this enjoyable intimacy, combined with the memory of his first kiss with her and her previous conversation about winter pastimes, led to thoughts that didn't have much to do with cuddling. He could stay like this forever, but it would be harder and harder to keep those thoughts in the back of his mind.
Which was all the more important he do for the future of his relationship with this woman who he'd loved for a long time now, in spite of all the complications. That meant he could either address what he was feeling or he should probably go back to his cot.
So of course he jumped the gun like an idiot. “Let's get married, Deb.”
In his arms his girlfriend went from cuddly to stiff as a board in an instant. She pulled away as much as the bed and the blankets they were under would allow, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “What?”
He immediately knew he'd made a mistake, with his timing if nothing else. He hadn't even produced the ring, and he'd also been planning some sort of fancy dinner and candles and all that. But in for a penny . . . “I love you,” he said simply. “I want to be there for you. With you. Through anything life throws at us.”
Deb's cheeks were flushed, but her breathing was a little too fast, like panic rather than excitement. “I love you too, of course. I have since the beginning, in a way.” She looked down, obviously uncomfortable. “I-I'm just not sure I'm ready.”
That was completely fair, and probably more than he deserved for proposing just minutes after their first kiss. Still, he felt a bit disappointed and even a little hurt as he nodded in understanding. “I get it. Sorry for just springing that on you like this.”
“No I'm sorry, for making this so hard on you. If we were a normal couple-” she broke off with an anguished noise and looked away, then abruptly wiggled free of the covers and grabbed her heavy coat, tugging it around her shoulders as she clumsily stepped into her oversized boots.
As Trev did his best to muddle through what had just happened, how catastrophically he seemed to have bungled things, she escaped through the door and yanked it shut behind her, boots untied and coat flapping in the wind. He didn't even think about trying to stop her from going out into the foul weather outside until she was gone.
A flurry of snow carried on a blast of bitterly cold wind swirled through the room at even that short opening into the storm, twice as painful after the warmth. Trev shivered and pulled his blankets up around his chin. He was worried about Deb being able to get home in that, or catching a chill in the short time it took her to do so. But at least her cabin wasn't far, and the rope leading to it was tied to the wall just outside the door.
So he settled back, feeling alone and unexpectedly cold. Deb had only been gone for a moment, so it should've been just as warm under the covers. But somehow it wasn't.
* * * * *
Lewis had been worried about his dad's coughing from the start.
Sure, with the onset of cold weather there'd been plenty of sniffles and coughs
to go around, and they'd only get more common now that winter had begun in earnest. Most would be simple colds or other minor ailments, with mild symptoms that either went away quickly or lingered as barely more than an inconvenience.
But it had now been long enough that he was sure that wasn't the case with his dad. It had been eight days since he'd first noticed his dad coughing, and it was getting worse and worse, going from dry hacking fits to intense episodes that often lasted more than ten seconds.
He hadn't realized just how bad, though, since he was usually gone during the day and slept in a different room at night. The coughs he did hear were muffled by the walls, easier to ignore.
Now, though, with the storm swirling outside it was impossible not to see how often his dad coughed. He drank lots of water but barely ate, and even eating the soup brought over by Deb from Aunt Clair caused him to have another coughing fit after the first few slurps. Lewis knew that crackers and other dry foods could exacerbate a cough, but he didn't think soup should be doing that.
And that night he learned his dad's condition was even worse than that, as he coughed hour after hour through the night with no hint he was getting any sleep, any relief. Lewis was so worried he couldn't sleep either, and he listened as his dad broke into fits every few minutes. There was no sign that this illness was sapping his dad's strength, other than from the expected exhaustion of lack of sleep and proper food, but that cough that never went away . . .
This was serious. It went beyond bronchitis or some other mild to moderately severe ailment and into the territory of pneumonia or another much more serious condition.
Since Lewis couldn't sleep he searched through the medical texts in his archives. He was aware of the danger of those without medical training trying diagnose an illness, only to settle on an incorrect one and make things worse or at the very least cause needless worry. But he wasn't sure what else to do.
His research certainly did add to his worries. From the symptoms it seemed like his dad was either suffering from a severe form of bronchitis, or more likely from pneumonia or whooping cough. Those were serious even with access to modern medicine: without it they could be fatal.
On top of his worry came more than a little guilt. Lewis had stocked up a good supply of medicine on top of all the other preparations he'd made before the Gulf burned. That included antibiotics, which could be vital here if it was pneumonia or whooping cough rather than bronchitis. He'd had the means to potentially cure his dad's condition, as well as ease his suffering.
But that medicine was gone. He hadn't felt right about holding it back during the fight against the blockheads, when wounded volunteers urgently needed it in life and death situations. So he'd given out dose after dose, watching his supply dwindle, constantly debating with himself where he should draw the line and save some in case his family needed it. But his conscience never let him draw that line, and finally it was all gone.
His family had relied on him to look out for their interests, even if it meant refusing help to a friend. Sure, it was an impossible choice to make at the time, weighing someone's immediate desperate need with his family's potential need. And he'd secretly hoped he'd find another source for medicine, maybe aid from the military, or that they'd be able to go to a refugee camp that had doctors and medicine if the situation was desperate enough.
But now they were in the middle of a storm with travel nearly impossible, especially while transporting a sick person. And his dad was sick, seriously sick. And because of his earlier generosity Lewis he didn't have what he needed to help him.
Was it possible to be selfish in his selflessness? Would it have been better to let the guilt of a friend's suffering eat at him as long as it meant he'd still have what his family now needed? How did you even make that kind of choice?
The storm was still raging when he finally decided he'd had enough of sitting in bed listening to his dad cough. His phone was nearly out of battery and unlikely to be recharged, not when they had to worry about lighting this cabin and the Smith family's with car batteries that themselves wouldn't be recharged from the solar panels during a storm.
It showed the time as 5:07. Way too early to be waking up Terry or Dr. Langstrom, and likely their families in the process. He decided to wait until at least six, a slightly more reasonable hour.
That hour of waiting was agony, lasting an eternity with the time barely seeming to pass even though he waited as long as he could to check his phone, minutes at most. At 5:50 he carefully climbed out of bed. He was sure he woke up Jane, if she wasn't already awake, but she said nothing as he pulled on his cold weather gear to the sound of his dad's coughing in the other room. He eased open the outside door just enough to leave, stepping over more than a foot of drifted snow as he pulled it closed behind him.
Everything was white, the snow still falling in a wild flurry that reduced visibility to only a few feet in the light of his flashlight. His family's house was between the Smiths and the Larsons, with ropes going to both as well as to Jane's group's cabin. He felt his way along the wall to the correct rope and held onto it as he hunched against the driving snow.
After almost a minute of quiet tapping a disheveled Matt came to the door, opening it a crack. “I need Terry,” Lewis said without preamble.
His friend flinched. “Your dad?” Lewis nodded grimly. “Just a second.” The door scraped shut.
After almost five minutes of waiting in the cold, wind burrowing through his clothes to chill him with alarming speed, the door opened and Terry and Matt trooped out, bundled up against the storm. “I'm sorry for bothering you so early,” he called over the wind, “but it's getting really bad.”
“It's all right,” Terry called back, voice kind in spite of the volume. “I've been expecting the need for a visit, although I hoped it wouldn't be necessary.”
Lewis led the way back to his cabin and entered through the front door. If he was worried about waking his family he needn't have bothered; his mom and Mary were already awake, faces pale and pinched with worry, although they looked relieved to see Terry. Jane had emerged from their room at the sound of the door opening, padding over to stand by Lewis. His dad was leaning over a bowl of boiling water with a towel draped over his head to hold in the steam. As they entered he broke into a coughing fit and swayed, clutching at the table for balance.
Terry removed his coat and gloves but kept on his balaclava, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he made his way over to the table. “Sorry to disturb you, Lucas,” he said gently as he set down his bag, which held all the medical tools he'd managed to scrape together. “I'd like you to tell me all about your illness, any details you can think of. Start at the beginning.” He glanced at the rest of them. “If you have something to add please speak up.”
While they described everything they could think of about Lucas's condition since he first started coughing, Terry checked his pulse, his blood pressure, examined his throat, listened to his breathing, and felt for swelling around his throat. Then the young doctor asked to refer to Lewis's medical texts.
Finally, after almost half an hour of mostly tense silence broken by Lucas coughing and spitting into a cup, Terry looked up grimly. “I think we're looking at whooping cough, Lucas. The distinctive pattern of your coughing fits supports that diagnosis, along with other telltale symptoms.”
Lewis sucked in a sharp breath. That was very bad news. Of the three possible illnesses, whooping cough was potentially the most dangerous. For one thing the Bordetella pertussis bacterium was highly contagious, and his dad hadn't made any effort to restrict contact other than the usual slight efforts people made when sick out of politeness. The disease also lasted the longest, not for nothing called the “100 day cough”. And worst of all, the coughing fits were so violent they could trigger vomiting, break ribs, and have other similarly dire effects.
Even though Lewis had been approaching that diagnosis himself he was still surprised by it. The medical texts he'd been reading covered diagnosi
s and treatment of a wide variety of known diseases, but didn't have much to say about their history or how common they were.
He wasn't the only one wondering that, apparently. “Whooping cough's still around?” Mary asked. “It's an old-timey illness, isn't it? I've never heard of anyone getting it.”
“It still crops up every now and again,” Terry replied heavily. “Most diseases never completely go away, and even with modern treatment and prevention you still see outbreaks. We'll probably be seeing more of them now.” He turned back to Lucas. “Speaking of which, whooping cough is very contagious. We can hope most people in town have had their DTaP vaccine and their Tdap boosters, and that they're still effective, but even so I must recommend quarantine. Not just for you but for the whole family, and ideally everyone you've come in contact with.”
Lucas nodded heavily. His face was gray, since he'd likely also been doing some reading and must understand what the diagnosis meant. “If Lewis and Jane don't mind I can move into their room for now.”
“Absolutely,” Lewis said. “We'll find a way to divert more heat from the stove into there so you're comfortable.”
“What's the treatment, Terry?” Eva asked worriedly, not liking the grim tones. “What can we do?”
Terry carefully removed the latex gloves and sealed them in a plastic baggy, then sat down on one of the cots. He spent a few minutes outlining the illness and what they could expect to see from it. Lewis watched his mom grow increasingly worried as their friend described vomiting and broken ribs, and when he admitted how long the illness could last and that there wasn't much they could do without the aid of antibiotics she burst into tears.
Mary turned to Lewis hopefully. “But you've got antibiotics, right? That stock of medicine you prepared?”
He flinched, feeling lower than scum as he had to shake his head. “It's all gone.”
“All of it?” his mom demanded through her tears. “You didn't save any?”
Lewis looked away. “Too many life and death situations.”