Page 84 of Mountains Divide Us

“Oh my God.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said in the smallest breath. “Samantha, see if you can find some blankets. He’s freezin’.”

I turned, searching desperately for a sofa throw or something, but there was nothing. It looked like the Oswalds had packed those kinds of things away before they’d left for Arizona. There weren’t even any decorative pillows on the couch, so I ran, finding a staircase at the end of the front hallway.

When I got to the top, I rushed into the first bedroom I saw and ripped the comforter and blanket off the bed and practically jumped back down the stairs, trailing the blankets behind me.

“Here.”

Frank took them from me and spread them out on the kitchen floor, one on top of the other, and then he lifted Murphy and laid him in the middle. He wrapped that kid up as if he had been made of glass, tucking the blankets around Murphy’s body, making sure every part of him was covered, and then took the hat off of his head and put it over Murphy’s. He lifted the bundle into his arms, like Murphy was three years old instead of fourteen or fifteen, like he wasn’t already the size of a man.

“Get the door,” Frank said, and I ran for it, opening it and trying to clear the snow on the porch with my boots.

He walked swiftly but carefully, each step urgent but confident, and when Abey pulled up in front of the curb, Frank climbed in the back seat, holding Murphy carefully in his lap. I hopped in the front, and Abey drove.

“How’s his pulse?” she asked.

“Weak.”

“Goddamn this snow,” she said. “When this shit’s over, I’m movin’ to Bermuda.”

I turned in the front seat, scrambling up on my knees so I could see Murphy and Frank behind me. Grum was on the floor in the back seat, trying to lick and sniff Murphy back to consciousness.

“Samantha, please, for the love of God, put your seatbelt on. Abey can’t see oncomin’ traffic, and if you get hurt…”

I didn’t say anything but turned and refastened my seatbelt. Everything I did, everything I said, was childish, and Frank was scolding me like a parent.

It was okay. I deserved it.

And if Murphy died, I would never, ever forgive myself.

* * *

“His prognosis is guarded,” Doctor Whitley said.

Abey took Grum with her when she went back out to help another driver who’d slid into a ditch while Frank and I waited for news about Murphy in a small waiting area in a medical clinic in the middle of downtown Wisper. It registered on some level as weird to me that a clinic would be located inside a house, but the thought flitted from my mind as I watched Frank’s hands clench and unclench into hard fists as he paced the length of the small waiting room, which was really just a living room.

“His body temperature is almost back to normal, but his heartbeat and respirations are too fast, and he’s severely dehydrated. I’m giving him fluids, but the bigger problem is the infection from his injury. I believe he’s septic.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, anxious to get back to the library so I could look it up. Cell service was out. I couldn’t just pop it into my search engine. Besides, I’d stupidly left my bag and phone back at the community center.

“It means the infection’s in his blood stream,” Frank said grimly.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “I won’t know for sure until I can get some of his blood to a lab, but since I have no way to do that now, I’m going to treat him for sepsis. He’ll most likely need to be hospitalized for some time. Blood pressure can become an issue.”

Tears were streaming down my face. “But will he… recover?”

The doctor patted my shoulder. “I don’t know. It will depend on the severity of the infection and if we’ve caught it in time. If it gets to his heart…”

I sank into the chair behind me, and it felt like the edges of my world were freezing from the outside in. Things were icing over in my vision. Everything in my view looked like it was quickly crystalizing.

My stupid decision not to tell Frank when Murphy had broken into the library for the last time might’ve cost this child his life.

“What can you tell me about him, Frank?”

“Not much, Doc. Mr. Burroughs over at Ace’s House thought he might be in some trouble, and I’ve been lookin’ for him. He’s been breakin’ into places all over town, I assume tryin’ to find shelter and food. He stole antibiotics from Milson’s ranch meant for their horses.”

“Do you know what kind of antibiotics?”

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