Page 73 of Perilous Healing

She rolls her shoulders and starts cleaning off the table, sanitizing it and sticking her tools in a bucket to get cleaned before reuse. River’s budget unfortunately doesn’t call for brand-new sterilized tools when it comes to the people here who Bianca helps. He and Yarrow, however, have their own separate stash.

“Are you feeling all right?” Abana asks.

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Bianca takes a seat at the small two-seater table, and Idra places a mug of water in front of her. She smiles up at him. “Thank you.”

He nods, then lifts the water bucket and heads out the door to swap it out, just as he does after each patient Bianca sees. Aside from my injury, Bianca has helped a handful of kids, three men injured in the pit, and two women who suffered heat stroke over the past three weeks.

No one else has died—thankfully.

In fact, they’re all in even better spirits than before we arrived, and we haven’t even figured out how to get them free yet. Bianca reading to them from the Bible each night during dinner, with Abana translating, has changed the way they see things.

She’s changed the way I see things, too. Ever since I nearly died and heard that voice, I’ve been actively seeking the same connection with God, but so far I’m still struggling. In the quiet, when Bianca is sleeping, I try talking to Him. But I get nothing in return.

It’s like He’s uninterested in me. Though I know that’s not true. He saved me, something I don’t doubt in the least, and I have to believe it was for a reason.

Things with Bianca are improving, at least. I no longer hang on to that anger I carried for her. Truth is, I realized I’ve actually been angry at myself for not being there when Sierra died. I should have been there, home with her. But because I was so broken up over Bianca and what I’d gone through, I’d locked myself in that cabin. Then blamed Bianca for the fact that Sierra died before I could get home to her.

Now, when I look at Bianca, I no longer feel that anger I carried for all those years. Nor do I feel pain. All I feel is?—

Bianca runs her arm back over her forehead, then closes her eyes.

I narrow my gaze, noting the paleness of her complexion. She’s been off today, a bit more fatigued than normal. But given we’re going on nearly a month here, I assumed it was just the stress of everything. What if I’m wrong though? “Bianca, I think you need to rest.”

“I’m sitting now,” she insists.

“Maybe you need to go back to the cell and lie on the cot.” It may be a prison cell, but it’s a lot cooler down there than it is up here.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Bian—”

“Silas, I promise. I need to stay here until after dinner time. Then I’ll get a good night’s sleep and bounce back to a hundred and ten percent tomorrow.” But even as she says it, I can see she doesn’t entirely believe those words. Her eyes are glossy and unfocused, her skin paling even further as each second passes.

Abana reaches forward and presses her wrist to Bianca’s forehead. “You are feverish,” she says.

“Feverish?” I rush forward and feel her forehead. She’s hot to the touch, hotter than I remember Eloise being the first time she got the flu. And her temperature had spiked at 103. “Do you have a thermometer?” I ask Abana.

She nods and plucks one from the first aid kit.

“I don’t need that,” Bianca insists.

“Stop protesting,” Abana orders.

Bianca opens her mouth and Abana slips the thermometer into her mouth. I remain where I am, watching as the red color grows higher and higher on the old school mercury thermometer.

“104.1,” Abana says as she pulls the thermometer out of Bianca’s mouth.

Bianca simply waves her away. “It’s hot in here. I bet if you checked Silas he’d read the same.”

“You’re ill. We need to get you out of here,” Abana says.

“No. I have people to help,” she replies, her expression turning stubborn.

“You can’t help them if you’re dead,” I insist.

“We can manage,” Abana assures her. “You’ve been training Laring, and we have Idra as well.”

“No. This is my—” Bianca no sooner stands than she’s swaying on her feet, her eyes rolling back in her head. I lunge forward, catching her as she collapses.

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