“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.” Chase wasn’t that sorry. And she was pretty sure Norah wasn’t either. Though they were far from reconciliation, and had only shared a few cautious moments together, she knew Norah felt the same way she did.
“Don’t worry about it. Funny, but I don’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing I recall was talking about the use of antiretrovirals as a possible treatment for the virus and then…nothing.”
Chase laughed from somewhere deep in her belly. She laughed because it was a sentence only the two of them could fully appreciate, and it brought her right back to their late nights reading journal articles in school. “Are we nerds or what?”
Norah laughed along with her, the cadence building until she erupted in a deep, chesty cough. Chase felt her face fall immediately, and her heart dropped into the depths of her torso.
“I’m fine, really,” Norah squeaked out between coughing fits.
“The fuck you are.” Chase stood, frantic, and immediately started pacing around the small enclosure. “You’re sick. Do you have a fever? Here, let me get a thermometer. I think there’s one—”
Norah grabbed Chase’s hand as she flitted around aimlessly, forcing her to stop. “I’m okay, Chase. It’s just allergies. You know, this Southern ragweed, or whatever.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.” Chase forced in a slow, deep breath, counting to four and then exhaling for a count of five. She did this every time she felt on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, and it worked almost every time. This time, though, it lowered her heart rate only down enough that she didn’t feel like a Ping-Pong ball was rattling around in her chest and brought her vision back a little more into focus. With one more deep breath, Chase the physician, the critical thinker, took over, and her only thoughts were about saving Norah.
Norah quickly put the back of her hand to her forehead and forced a smile. “See? No fever. I’m fine.”
Without saying anything, Chase left the tent, walked the fifty feet to the supply shed, grabbed a thermometer and stethoscope, and marched back to Norah.
“Been a while since I’ve seen you with a stethoscope around your neck, Dr. Durgin.” Norah attempted a wink, but it was listless and weak.
“Flirting with me isn’t going to make me ignore this.”
“Damn.”
Chase took the thermometer from her shorts pocket and ran it over Norah’s forehead, her stomach twisting into painful contortions while she waited for thebeep.
“100.8.”Fuck.
“See?” Norah said, feigning enthusiasm. “That’s barely even a fever.”
“It’s still a fever. We need to tell John. And we need to get you to the hospital immediately.”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s just a cold.”
Chase pulled the stethoscope off her neck and placed it to Norah’s back. “Breathe.” It wasn’t a request. Reluctantly, Norah took a few deep breaths.
“Your lungs sound okay,” Chase muttered. Norah opened her mouth, looking triumphant for only a second before Chase could cut her off. “But we both know that doesn’t mean anything this early. I’m going to tell John.”
“Don’t!” But Chase had already turned to the door of the tent. “Chase, please…”
Her back still to Norah, she spoke quietly. “What would you do if it were me?”
She didn’t have to turn around to accept Norah’s silence as surrender.
Chapter Twelve
As soon as Chase was gone, Norah collapsed back onto the cot, giving in to the fatigue and unbelievable heaviness. Every muscle was smoldering, and her limbs felt like tree trunks. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. She was just as worried as Chase was. Maybe more? No, not more. If their roles were reversed and Chase was the one who woke up sick like this, Norah would be beside herself. She’d have marched immediately over to John to get help. Hell, if it were Chase, Norah would have had her in an ambulance halfway to New Orleans by now. Norah knew it wasn’t allergies. Or a cold. She’d never felt this badly before.
At the sound of the zipper rustling, Norah shot back up, smoothing any rogue hairs and trying to make herself look as healthy as possible, but her cheeks felt flushed, and she knew she probably looked as bad as she felt.
“Chase says you have a fever.” John looked as calm and composed as ever, making his way to her bed like he was about to show her pictures of his grandkids on his phone and not to potentially expose himself to a lethal virus.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“She also told me you’d say that.”
“Um, hi? I’m right here?” Chase nudged John’s shoulder anxiously. “So what should we do? I think we need to send her to the hospital.”
