“I told you she’d like what I said.” Norah took one of Jamie’s hands in hers, then lowered herself into a squat so she was level with the head of Jamie’s bed.
“Listen. I wish you were awake enough to tell me this is okay. But I have to take the chance that this is what you’d want. I haven’t known you long, but I think I know you well enough already. And I’m sure you want to live. I’m going to give you some medicine that might help. We don’t know for sure. It’s dangerous. But I think it might work.”
Chase felt tears threaten the integrity of her mask and tried to pull herself together, but Norah was looking at her with an expression that pleaded with her to tell her she knew they were doing the right thing. Chase wanted to say that to her so badly. But she didn’t know either.
The quiet terror of the moment was shattered by the sound of the glass sliding open again. Another weary nurse appeared,moving slowly and looking relatively uninterested in them. She moved to the tree of IV pumps near the wall and pressed some buttons.
“Who are you two?” she asked, fiddling with one of the bags and glancing at Jamie’s monitor.
“Chase Durgin and Norah—”
“We’re with the CDC. Doctors.” When Norah cut her off abruptly, Chase got the picture. The less information the better. And the fewer people who knew their names the fewer people there were to turn them in.
The nurse sized them up and down, nodded once, and then left the room.
Chase exhaled hard against her mask as soon as she was gone, her hot breath ricocheting back onto her face and making her slightly nauseous. Norah just shrugged. This was good. This meant that no one else would likely be by the room anytime soon.
After one more glance out the door, Norah reached through the opening of her gown and slipped a small glass vial from her pocket. She was already prepared with an empty syringe and needle she’d taken from one of the carts in the room before the nurse had interrupted them, and Chase wondered how she’d managed to do that without even her noticing. Of all the things Chase would take Norah for, an efficient criminal wouldn’t have been one. But here they were.
She watched as Norah, her back turned to the glass, carefully drew up the medication into the syringe and discarded the needle. She attached the end to one of Jamie’s IV ports and visibly steadied her breathing with a precision that reminded Chase how good Norah was at controlling her own mind and body.
Norah looked at Chase once more, as if for approval, and Chase afforded her one final nod. She then pushed the plunger of the syringe so slowly Chase wasn’t even sure she was doing anything. After three minutes (which Norah had clearly been counting to the second, continually glancing at her watch), it was over.
They looked at each other, waiting. Waiting for what, they weren’t sure. It would take hours, or days, even to see if the treatment would work. Nothing would happen right now.
“What do we do now?” Chase asked, although she already knew the answer.
Norah sighed despondently.
“Now, we wait. And as much as I hate to leave her, we should probably get out of here.”
Chase started to leave, expecting Norah to be just feet behind her. But when she went to open the door, Norah wasn’t there. She was standing next to Jamie, whispering something Chase couldn’t, didn’t want to, make out. When they finally did leave, Chase saw a single tear spill out over the top of Norah’s mask.
Neither of them felt much like talking on the drive home. Norah was nearly choking on the newfound terror of what they’d done, suddenly fully aware of the gamble they’d taken with Jamie’s life. It was a panic that made her want to turn the car around, drive back to the hospital, and somehow undo what she’d done. If this drug killed her friend, it would be all her fault. But if the virus killed her instead, and Norah could have done something to save her, well then that would be all her fault too.
Chase tossed around the idea of telling John, but Norah ultimately persuaded her that the fewer people who knew, the less the liability. If anything happened, they didn’t want to take John down with them. Something about having this secret between them made Norah feel even closer to Chase, but for some reason, she just wanted to shut her out.
“Do you want company?” Chase asked when they finally walked to their tents. It was almost dinner time, but Norah knew neither one of them had much of an appetite.
“I think I just need to be alone for a while.”
Norah watched Chase’s face fall and immediately hated herself for causing the reaction. But in that moment, everything in her told her to run. Chase had been nothing but attentive and kind and patient since their reunion. Yet all Norah wanted to do was get as far from her as possible. The irony didn’t escape her that Chase had been the avoidant one in their relationship. In fact, that was what had ruined them. But there she was, grown, self-aware, ready to stand by Norah’s side whatever the cost. Now Norah was the coward.
“Of course. But I think it would be smart of us to make an appearance in the mess tent in an hour or so and at least pretend to eat some dinner. I don’t want John to get suspicious.”
She had an excellent point.
“I’ll see you over there.”
As Norah went into her tent, and Chase turned the corner to go to hers, Norah was briefly amused at the concept of Chase “dropping her off at home.” Nothing was normal in the bayou. She just wanted one night where they could go back to being them—share a bottle of wine in their tiny kitchen on Hannity Street listening to the indie folk music Chase loved so much while she tried desperately to explain the difference between the Decemberists and Fleet Foxes. They’d get just a little tipsy and dance in the dim light of the table lamps Norah insisted on having because overhead lighting “is just an abomination.” And Chase would laugh as she picked Norah up and put her on the counter, kissing her neck and fumbling with her T-shirt until Norah pushed her away and dragged her to their bedroom. After they were done, they’d lie under the covers and put on an old movie until they both fell asleep sometime after midnight.
It was all so simple. Norah unlaced her boots and collapsed onto her cot, staring at the canvas walls, pretending it was the popcorn ceiling on Hannity Street. It was all so simple. Until it wasn’t.
Chapter Eighteen
The cook staff was serving beans and hot dogs that night, and Chase was amazed that by the time she made it to dinner, she was actually hungry. Unlike Norah, it took a lot to kill her appetite. It was no wonder, considering they’d been driving in the blazing sun all day, and Chase had eaten only a protein bar at eight a.m. She inhaled two hotdogs, some baked beans, which were most definitely fresh out of the can, and a Coke. Norah wasn’t there. Chase imagined she was reading the trial information for the billionth time, as if reading it enough would somehow let her predict the future and know what was going to happen with Jamie. She wanted to be there for Norah, but Norah had refused. This was a new Norah, one capable of compartmentalizing her feelings to the point of complete isolation. In fact, Chase couldn’t think of a single time in the past when Norah had asked for space. It wasn’t surprising though. Not after everything Chase had done. Norah couldn’t trust her. In fact, she might never be able to trust her again.
Chase’s heart sank. She had deluded herself into thinking they were rebuilding something here. Maybe it was unlabeled for now, but someday soon Norah would admit that she wanted all of Chase too. Yet what if Norah didn’t? What if this was all they could ever have?
