Would he suffer long before his last breath?Fuck. My brain was persistent.
An animal-like growl erupted out of me. “He’ll be okay,” I said out loud so I could hear myself. Everything would be okay even without garlic or ginger. Hunter was a healthy man who had me to help him. I wouldn’t let another man I cared about die. Not on my watch. I wiped my wet cheeks and repeated the breathing exercise: breathe in through your nose for four seconds, hold breath for seven, and then exhale through your mouth for eight, repeat three more times.
My heartbeat slowed down, and so did my thoughts, pausing on the image of the shed and the pile in the far corner of stuff Edward’s girlfriends left here. I went over them weeks ago, pulling out some clothing, a hairbrush, and dried-up body lotion (I diluted it with coconut water and it lasted me for a few days). There was also a small bag with some boxes and pills. I shied away from it, uncertain what it was, fearing it was some illegal drugs, something I shouldn’t have discovered. But now I wasn’t scared.
Before sprinting to the shed, I checked on Hunter. He was asleep. The washcloth on his forehead slid sideways, and his damaged, blazing-red hand rested near his hip.
I kissed Hunter’s brow just as he did when I was sick. I replaced the dry washcloth with a new, cold one and left the hut.
In the shed, I found the suitcase and opened it. A musty smell wafted in my face, and a few bugs darted away. Unbothered by the spiders, I rummaged through the luggage until I dug out the small container I had come for. Inside, it contained multiple blister packs filled with various pills. There were no long-ass paper instructions on how to use any of these medications, and most of the names were unfamiliar to me. One of them, though, was Penicillin 250 mg. Besides the tablets, there were also tiny glass bottles. Penicillin G Benzathine and Tetanus Toxoid.
“Thank God,” I said, keeping my happy tears at bay.
When I was in high school, I brought a stray cat to our house as a gift for my mom. The surprise cost my parents over five hundred dollars when something spooked the cat, and he bit my father’s forearm. The following day, he had to go to the urgent care because his arm ballooned with an infection overnight. The doctor gave him two injections, Penicillin and Tetanus, and sent him home with some painkillers and more antibiotics.
I could do the same for Hunter. Only after further inspection, the container had no disposable syringes or needles. Damn it. The medical box in the hut had antique-ish-looking glass syringes probably used for who knows what but I could work with that. Stuffing everything back in and taking the entire box, I hurried to the hut.
How long medication could last in the hot tropical weather and what dosage to give were good questions, and I had no answers. I could poison and kill Hunter, but there was also a greater chance the infection would spread and eventually kill him. I decided to take my chances with medication. A rescue boat or plane would be very much appreciated right now.
I flipped the first aid book to the part where it talked about doing injections. Vein. Nope. Not doing that. Muscle. Yes. I could do that one. It had a warning about some patients’ allergies to penicillin. I glanced at Hunter, and pity coiled inside me. I had to wake him up.
“Hey,” I said in a low voice, running my hand over his hot face. “Hunter, look at me, please.” After a few tries of me talking to him, his eyelashes fluttered, then he opened his eyes. I smiled. “Hi,” I said. His eyes rolled, and his eyelids started to close. “No, Hunter, wake up. I need to know if you are allergic to Penicillin?” He opened his eyes again, some sharpness that had always been in them returning for a slit second. “Penicillin. Are you allergic?” I said words louder this time.
He shook his head, closing his eyes, his lips moving. He was trying to say something, but I couldn’t hear. I leaned closer to his face. “What?”
He swallowed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m right here. You don’t have to yell.”
Unclear why it made me laugh, but it did, I started crying. It was a good sign that Hunter was joking, wasn’t it? I wiped my nose on my shoulder.
“What about tetanus? When was your last shot?”
“Don’t know,” he rasped, then swallowed. “Water?” That put an end to my giggles and set me into action. Supporting his head, I helped him drink. Then I made a fire and boiled water with the glass syringe and needles. I washed my hands with the same water, burning my skin, but it was the only way to sanitize them.
“I need to give you two shots. Okay? I’ll explain later where I found it.”
To my surprise, my hands were steady when they hovered over Hunter’s thigh as I readied to play the role of his Guardian Angel or Angel of Death.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered an apology in advance for hurting and perhaps murdering him. Clenching my teeth, I jabbed the needle into his leg. Hunter groaned, and I winced as if the pain shot through me too. Turning his head to the side, he mumbled something likechic, orsheet, or maybeshit. Definitelyshit. Then I repeated sanitizing (I had only one needle) and stabbed Hunter’s other thigh with a tetanus injection.
After tucking towels and a blanket over Hunter, I spent the entire night on the chair near the bed, watching Hunter shiver and moan, either getting better or dying. I smelled like a sweaty horse’s ass, and my shirt stuck to my skin, but I wasn’t willing to leave him, only getting up to bring fresh pots of cold water for the washcloth. My mouth had an acrid taste, and I remembered my earlier episode in the morning by the lake and that I hadn’t had any food all day. I pulled my legs to my chest and set my chin on my knees, watching Hunter’s chest move reassuringly up and down.
The cats curled up by Hunter’s side and slept near him until Hunter had to lean over and throw up in the bucket I’d prepared earlier (the first aid book mentioned this in the side effects of Penicillin).
By morning, Hunter had stopped quivering and sweating, his breathing had normalized, and while the swelling in his hand hadn’t gone down, his forehead felt cool to my touch.
I disposed of the bucket contents I left on the porch overnight, started the fire, took a quick shower, and changed into clean clothes. Hunter slept through the day, only waking up when I gave him antibiotic pills with some water.
It was closer to midday when Hunter shifted in the bed with a groan and pulled himself up against the headboard.
“Hi,” I said, dragging my exhausted body from the couch and finding a spot at the corner of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Very tired.”
“You can’t be tired. You slept for two days,” I said with a smile, my gaze sweeping over Hunter’s face. It had gained back some of its normal color, but his eyes were sunken in, and purple moons underneath them could easily be mistaken for bruises.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“I had to return the favor, right? You save my ass. I save yours. Now we are even.”
