“But he’s worse. His oxygen sats dropped more, and they had to intubate.”
This was almost as bad, Chase thought. Intubation in the setting of this disease seemed to be the last step before death. This was anything but good news.
“Fuck. Jesus. Goddamnit.” Chase pounded her fist against her thigh. They couldn’t lose Stevens. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She was mumbling to herself like a crazy person, and she didn’t care.
“We just have to see what happens, okay? Try to get some rest. It’s late.”
Chase had her head buried in her hands, trying not to let John see the tears that burned her already tired eyes. She didn’t answer him.
She had to tell Norah. That is, if she didn’t already know. Of course she knew. Stevens was her private. Or maybe Chase was just seeking the comfort she knew she could get from being around her. Better yet, the sense of purpose she always got from being the one to comfort Norah.
It was late. Chase had no idea how late, though, her thoughts entirely consumed with Norah when they should have been focused on the crumbling state of the world. The quick walk to Norah’s tent was so silent she could hear the crack of every desiccated stick under her boots. Cicadas were singing in their highest register. And, like every night, the heat never relented even with the rising moon. It could have all been quite peaceful, had everything around Chase not been falling to shit. She paused for a beat outside of Norah’s tent, never quite sure if she would be welcome or not. Standing there was silly, since Norah could undoubtedly see Chase’s shadow outside the walls.
“Are you going to come in?” Norah said from inside.
Chase tentatively pulled the zipper and stepped in. “How did you know it was me?”
Norah let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I’ve spent a lot of time staring at that shape of yours, Chase.” The words came out with more sadness than flirtation.
“Norah—”
“I know.” Norah bowed her head and pursed her lips. She just stood there for so long Chase wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Should she comfort her? Should she leave? For the first time since she’d known Norah, she was at a loss.
Without warning, Norah looked up, her blistering stare burrowing into Chase. It wasn’t anger or fear she saw. This was desire.
She moved to where Chase stood wordlessly and placed her hands firmly on Chase’s chest, pressing her lips hard into Chase’s with the same need Chase had just seen in her eyes. Norah’s tongue pushed eagerly past Chase’s partially open mouth, andChase’s head swam. Once the initial shock had ebbed, Chase’s body melted into Norah’s with a newness that was somehow so natural and easy. It was like breathing, which Chase was not doing a great job of at that very moment. Her head was growing lighter, and she briefly wondered if it was the spell Norah’s kiss held or her own lack of oxygen.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Norah pulled away so abruptly Chase had to force her way out of the dreamlike haze she’d fallen in to.
“What? No. Don’t say that.”
“You saw him in there. He’s hypoxic. And he’s getting worse by the minute. He was my responsibility and I—”
“Norah.” Chase delicately guided Norah down until she was sitting beside her, turning to take one hand in both of hers. “This isn’t your fault.”
Chase tried to hold her gaze, but Norah just stared silently at her feet. “I couldn’t save my brother. I can’t save Stevens. I can’t do a damn thing.”
“Hey!” Chase took Norah’s face in her palms and forced her to look at her. “That does not sound one bit like the woman I know. She doesn’t quit. She doesn’t just roll over and let things happen to her. Unless…”
Norah chuckled in spite of herself. “Really, Chase? A sex joke?”
But it was enough to lift her out of her spiral of self-deprecation and blame, if only for a moment.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Norah shook her head. “I hate how well you know me.”
Chase wrapped her arm around Norah’s shoulder and pulled her as close as she could. She buried her forehead in Chase’s neck and sighed deeply, her breath hot against Chase’s skin. For a second Chase’s body flooded with the same desire it had when they kissed, and she tried her best to bring herself back to the present. It didn’t escape her that even amid life and death shecouldn’t keep her hands off Norah. God, it was no wonder she’d never been able to get over this woman.
“You don’t hate it. You love it.” She kissed Norah’s forehead softly, closing her eyes and lingering as long as she could.
The tent filled with a comfortable silence, one that can only come from years of history, until Norah finally spoke again.
“I do love it, Chase. I really do.”
It was still dark when Chase opened her eyes again. She squinted hard a few times, trying to clear her vision, but the dark was as black as the middle of the ocean at two a.m. She knew it wasn’t anywhere near dawn. She also knew this wasn’t her tent. At that realization, she noted the soft body resting against hers and took in the familiar scent of Norah’s hair. After that one perfect kiss, made more perfect by the fact that Norah had been the initiator, they’d spent the next two hours curled up on Norah’s tiny cot, whispering about what would happen to their families, their friends, to the world. Chase did her best to continue to instill all the confidence she had in Norah because she knew that if anyone could solve a near-apocalypse, it was this woman. But she was scared. They both were. And Chase vowed to herself in that moment that she would always be up-front with Norah about how she was feeling, from that night on. Eventually, the worry and sadness and even the joy that came from lying together in the darkness must have enveloped them in a deep, dreamless sleep Chase didn’t mean to enter.
“Good morning.” Norah’s voice was hoarse, and her eyes looked heavy, painted with dark shadows underneath them. Chase had let her sleep until the sun finally showed its face and Norah stirred under the strips of light fighting their way through the canvas of the tent.
