Part 9 (1/2)

”What is it?”

Rhiannon pulled back the sheet from Ben's face. The boy did not look well. His face was flushed bright red and his normally bright eyes were dull and even more bloodshot than the day before.

Oh! Dear G.o.d, no.

Emily tried to keep her fear at what she saw from reaching her face as she leaned in closer to check if the boy was even breathing. She placed an ear close to his mouth. Yes, thank you, G.o.d. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the gentle wisp of his breath against her ear.

It's probably just a reaction to the shock of losing his father, she thought. Too much upheaval for the poor kid. That's all it is. She didn't like the way those last couple of sentences sounded in her head; they sounded more like a plea than a statement of fact.

Emily knelt down next to the bed and pulled the covers back from the boy's body.

”Are you okay, kiddo?” she asked him.

His T-s.h.i.+rt was soaked in sweat, and beads of perspiration dotted his hairline and forehead. She placed a cool hand against his brow.

Jesus! The kid was burning up.

”My head hurts,” he whimpered.

”Rhiannon, go into the big bag for me, and in the pocket on the left side, you'll see a first aid kit. Will you go get it for me, please?” she asked, then added, ”And bring some water, too. And a fresh T-s.h.i.+rt.”

Ben's sister remained where she was, staring at her brother.

”Rhiannon!” Emily snapped. ”Now, please.” The kid jumped and then ran to the backpack that Emily had left near the entrance to the room. When she was out of sight, Emily gently turned Ben toward her so she could get a better view of his back.

”Oh, s.h.i.+t. Oh no,” she whispered. She threw a hand over her mouth before more emotion could escape from it. Overnight the bruise from the creature's attack had spread across both of Ben's shoulders and all the way down to the small of his back. The b.u.mp that had seemed inflamed had thickened and enlarged to a black pustule with thick black streamers of infection running from its center, stretching out across his shoulders and under his left armpit. A second ribbon of engorged veins had spread to his spine, then followed it upward toward the base of his neck.

”Here,” said Rhiannon, appearing beside Emily at the door, the plastic first aid kit in one hand and a T-s.h.i.+rt in the other. Emily quickly rolled the boy onto his back before his sister could see the infection tattooed across Ben's back.

”Thanks.” She opened up the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. The bottle recommended a single tablet for anyone under the age of twelve. But this wasn't a kid with a headache; this was a child with a major infection. She broke two of the little white tablets into smaller pieces and popped them one at a time into the boy's mouth, followed by a swig of water from the bottle each time.

When Ben had swallowed the last of the aspirin, she took the T-s.h.i.+rt and tore it along its seam into two pieces, then folded one piece into an oblong bandage. She emptied half of a bottle of water over it until it was completely soaked, then laid it across Ben's forehead. The boy moaned, then seemed to relax a little.

”Is he going to be okay?” Rhiannon asked, her voice quieted by concern.

”Yes, of course he is,” Emily rea.s.sured her, although she knew it was probably a lie. The kid needed a doctor. But that wasn't going to happen...ever. She felt her guts begin to knot in fear at the thought of caring for this child. She had zero medical training other than some basic first aid. And what this kid had was going to need more than a couple of aspirin and some TLC.

She had to find stronger medication: painkillers and antibiotics.

That meant she had to find a pharmacy, and quickly.

Emily turned to Rhiannon. ”Ben's pretty sick, and we're going to need to find him some medication. I'm going to need you to help me look after him, until he's better. Can you do that?”

Rhiannon's eyes got wide. Emily could see the kid was close to breaking apart. First her dad, now her little brother. If Emily wasn't careful here, the kid could implode under the pressure and stress.

”It's okay,” Emily said, placing a rea.s.suring hand against Rhia's arm. ”All I need you to do is wait here with Ben while I drive and find a pharmacy. You just need to keep that rag on his head wet for him. Turn it every couple of minutes for him. It'll help keep him cool.”

Rhiannon nodded, and Emily handed her the half-full bottle of water. ”Don't worry about getting water on the floor, and there's more bottled water in my backpack if you need it,” she said. ”I will not be long,” she promised.

And with that she was out the door.

It took her almost an hour to find a pharmacy and a place to refuel-a messy process of siphoning from another vehicle-every moment acutely aware of Ben's condition. Finally, she was racing up the stairs to the second floor of the hotel, barging through the fire door, and sprinting down to the room. Rhiannon was already waiting, peering through the hole in the door left by the escaping creature that had been born there. When she saw it was Emily, she pulled open the door to let her in.

”Good girl. How is he doing?”

Rhiannon looked scared. ”He just keeps moaning,” she said. ”I put the wet rag on his head, but he won't keep still and it keeps falling off.”

Emily was already at Ben's side. He looked even paler than he had before. He had kicked the sheets from his body, and Emily could see he had urinated; the sheet beneath him was stained a deep yellow.

Christ. He was in a bad way.

They couldn't stay here; the storm was closing in too fast. But if she moved him, she might make this worse. But she knew she had no choice. She had to get him out of here for all their sakes.

She plucked two of the antibiotics from the plastic bag. ”He needs to take one of these every twelve hours. It's going to be your job to remember what time he takes them,” she told Rhiannon.

”What are they?”

”Antibiotics. They'll help him fight the...the bug he has.” Emily took the boy's lower jaw between her thumb and forefinger-G.o.d, he looked so very pale-and pried his mouth open, slipping a pill onto the back of his tongue followed by a swig of water. Instinctively, the boy swallowed, choking a little as the water went down. She broke one of the Lortabs in half and helped him swallow that, too.

”We have to move him to the car,” she told Rhiannon as she placed the thermometer she had picked up at the pharmacy in the boy's mouth. She held Ben's mouth closed until the thing beeped.

”But he's really sick,” Rhiannon protested.

s.h.i.+t! His temperature was 104. That was not good. ”I know, honey, but we have to go. The storm is right on our tail, and if we don't get out of here now, we'll be stuck.” She explained all of this as she quickly pulled off the boy's sodden underwear-eliciting an embarra.s.sed yelp from his sister, who quickly turned her back-and gently cleaned him up with a couple of baby wipes. ”I'm going to need your help to take as much stuff for me down to the car as you can, because I'm going to carry Ben. Will you do that?”

Rhiannon nodded, still facing away from her brother.

Emily pulled a change of underwear from the boy's bag and quickly slipped them over Ben's feet and pulled them up to his waist. ”All right, you can look now,” she said, then directed Rhiannon to grab both her backpack and Ben's. ”Will you look after Thor for me?” she asked, slipping a pillow from the bed under her arm, then pulling off the comforter, wrapping the boy up in it, and lifting him off the bed. She would need to come back for her backpack once the kids were safely in the waiting SUV.

”Come on, Thor,” Rhiannon said to the dog, who had been waiting patiently between the two beds, his eyes never leaving Ben. Now he jumped to his feet and accompanied Rhiannon to the door. The kid opened it and dragged Emily's backpack to the corridor, then held the door open for Emily to slip through, Ben's unconscious form cradled in her arms.

The not-so-distant sound of thunder echoed through the hallway, rattling the windows of every room, as they made their way to the stairwell.

They were quickly running out of time.

Outside the building, the sky was a fiery red; the billowing ma.s.s of clouds enveloped the s.p.a.ce above them as a dry wind began to rustle the trees on the perimeter of the hotel's parking lot.

Rhiannon jogged ahead of Emily to the back of the Durango. ”It's open,” Emily yelled to the girl, who popped the tailgate up and slipped both backpacks into the SUV. She had to jump to reach the tailgate and pull it back down into place. She ran back to the driver's side and opened the pa.s.senger door, pus.h.i.+ng away the trash that had collected on the backseat and pus.h.i.+ng the armrest back into the s.p.a.ce between the seats.

Emily gently lowered the boy onto the backseat. She took the pillow from under her arm, raised his head, and slipped it beneath him.

The branches of the trees had begun to sway and rustle. What leaves were left on their branches began to fly into the air one by one as the storm broke over them.

With the kids and Thor in the SUV, Emily sprinted back into the hotel, raced up the stairs to the second floor two steps at a time, and grabbed her backpack before retracing her steps back outside.

Emily jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door closed behind her. The first drops of watery red liquid had begun to splatter on the pavement just a few feet from them. As she pulled away from the parking lot and out onto the road again, the sound of rain beating against the pavement was all that she could hear.

Almost three and a half hours later they crossed into Toronto, Canada, via the Queenston-Lewiston Bridge, just north of Niagara Falls.

On the Canadian side of the border, the bridge funneled traffic into fifteen separate inspection lanes, each lane leading into a customs and excise booth blocked by a security arm. About a mile before they had reached the bridge, Emily had hit the tail end of traffic. It was backed up across all of the Canada-bound lanes, almost to the US Border Patrol buildings. Hundreds upon hundreds of residents had tried to flee the oncoming rain, only to die in their cars and block any chance of Emily and her charges from advancing using that route. By comparison, the lanes into the United States were relatively free of traffic, so Emily had driven across the median-a low moan coming from Ben as each tire b.u.mped over the concrete-and headed toward Canada on the opposite side of the road.