Sommer sat. “What’s your guess?”
“Honestly?” Marna turned and looked at the tree line. “Norovirus.”
“From falling in the water?” Abbie asked.
“Or because we decided to take advantage of the luxury of a ceramic throne before we left.”
“You washed your hands,” Sommer said.
“Like a surgeon.” Marna unbuckled her pack and let it slide to the ground. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t come into contact with it.”
“This is bad,” Sommer said, looking in both directions on the trail. If only they had passed someone and there was help at hand.
“Why bad?” Abbie asked. “How bad?”
Marna dropped her sticks and stumbled behind a tree to puke. “Bad,” she said between heaves.
Sommer turned to find the sun in the sky. “It’s not too late to hike down to last night’s spot.”
“No can do.” Marna came back to her pack, filled her mouth with water from the hose, rinsed and spat.
“I’ll help you.”
“No,” Marna lay flat on her back. “I want to die. I want to die here looking up at the stars through the tree branches.”
“That’s melodramatic,” Abbie said, leaning against her pack.
“How are you feeling, Abbie? If I help Marna, can you get down to last night’s camp spot?”
“I couldn’t,” Abbie said. “My legs are like rubber.”
“Okay, let’s think this through,” Sommer realized she was the only functional adult. This was on her. “I need us all on board here. If this is norovirus, no matter the way you contracted it—
“Feels very norovirus to me,” Marna said. “I’m willing to bet that’s what’s going on.”
“Which means what?” Abbie asked. “Be specific.”
“Average onset is twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” Sommer said.
Marna flicked a hand through the air. “Check.”
“Once symptoms start, they progress quickly from there. We’re talking severe vomiting, cramps, chills, low-grade fever, muscle aches, and diarrhea. It lasts about three days.”
“So we have to hunker down and get through it,” Abbie said. “We can walk down when we’re feeling better. We just ration our food.”
“Unless we get dehydrated. Then it lasts longer.” Marna made a wry face. “Or, we die.”
“What?” Abbie squeaked. She blinked at Marna then turned to Sommer. “Sommer won’t let us dehydrate. There’s a stream at the last place we stopped for a break. If she collects water in our dry bags and hauls it up to boil it, that should be okay.”
Neither nurse answered.
“Right?” Abbie’s voice took on a sharp edge.
“It’s electrolytes,” Marna said. “I rationed mine to use most on the way up when my pack weight and the incline strain taxed my body the most.”
“Same,” Abbie and Sommer said.
“Abbie, I’m going to explain the reality of this situation because we need a plan, and we need it fast.”
