Page 68 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“I know,” Kerry replies simply, no prevarication, none of her usual wryly macabre humor, that hint of levity that I pretend to be appalled by but now realize I secretly need. “But it could have been worse.”
“This time,” I tell her, and she nods in agreement.
“Yes. This time.”
We stare at each other, both of us weary and resigned, knowing there is nothing else to be said. Worse, there is nothing else to do, but keep on. And on. And on. Until what end? The determination I felt a few months ago, that in a little while—however long that turned out to be—the world would right itself, has seeped away in light of this fresh disaster. It is February, and, as far as I know, nothing has changed. If the government hasn’t established order by now, will they ever? We haven’t left the cottage to know if gangs are still roving about, barricading bridges and buildings, terrorizing women and children. I’m not about to try to find out.
Despite what Kerry has said, this time itdoesget worse. Two days after the accident, when it seems as if the wound is actually healing, the stitches holding together, Ruby develops a fever. Ipress my hand against her hot forehead and try not to worry. She stares up at me miserably, her gaze unfocused, before she drifts into a restless sleep.
When she wakes up again, she seems disorientated, flailing about before going absolutely still.
“Ruby…” I touch her shoulder, and she shrugs off my hands.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s coming back, sweetheart, remember?” My voice trembles. “He went to get Sam.”
“Do I have to go to school today?” she asks, and I stare at her, realizing she must be delirious.It happens with fevers, I tell myself. The fever will break, and she’ll get better.
But what happens is her skin turns clammy and cold, tinged with gray, and beaded with sweat. The wound site turns an angry, inflamed red, worse than it was at the beginning. Then red streaks shoot across her skin like livid fireworks. I know what this is, and it terrifies me. Mattie hovers over her, her eyes wide and shocked.
“What’s going on?” She almost sounds angry. “Why isn’t she getting better?”
“I think…” I have to swallow hard. “I think her wound might have become septic.”
“Septic?” Mattie swings around to glare at me, her expression one of accusation. “What does that mean?”
“It means her blood has become infected.” Is it really such a surprise? We are so far from the sterile conditions of a hospital. “We need to give her antibiotics.”
Mattie’s lower lip trembles and she bites it hard. “But we don’t have any.”
“Then we’ll have to get some,” I reply, except I have no idea how.
Kerry and I huddle in the kitchen, while Mattie watches Ruby, to discuss our options. Outside it’s already getting dark,colder than ever, with that metallic tinge to the air that promises yet more snow. I feel calm in a disconnected sort of way; my absolute and only focus is getting medicine for my daughter. Saving her life because I know that’s what is at stake now. People with sepsis, left untreated, can die in hours. You read it in the news, you hear the tragic stories.If only they’d caught it sooner…
“The hospitals will have been cleared out of medicine, I’m sure of it,” Kerry says, staring out at the dark night. “The pharmacies too.”
“Where else then?” My mind is racing, but it has nowhere to go. I have no idea how to get antibiotics. “Do you know anyone who might have some? A nurse, a doctor—?” She doesn’t reply and I grab her shoulder. “Kerry. Do you?”
“Alex, I’mthinking.” She presses her hands to her cheeks, her eyes closed. “My mom had a home care nurse. Justine. She brought her her prescriptions, checked her out when she wasn’t well enough to go out. She lives in Eagle Rapids. She might…” She sounds doubtful, but it’s the only hope we have now.
“That’s about five miles past Flintville, right?”
Kerry nods. “About that.”
“Would she really have them?” I struggle between desperate hope and terrified doubt; we can’t afford to go on a fool’s errand, to make a single mistake. Time is not on our side. “If she’s only a nurse? She couldn’t prescribe anything, could she—”
“She delivered stuff, she had some access.” Kerry drops her hand to look at me bleakly. “I can’t think of anything else, Alex. I’m sorry.”
I can’t, either. I nod my acceptance. “You know where she lives?”
Kerry silently nods back.
We leave just ten minutes later, on the four-wheeler because the driveway hasn’t been plowed—something we decided on to discourage any interlopers, back when we didn’t want people finding us; we never thought about needing to get out. Mattie clings to me before we leave, uncharacteristically tearful.
“You’ll get the antibiotics?”
“Yes,” I tell her, my voice blazing certainty I don’t feel.
