18 Sick

I wake and try to shake off mental cobwebs as I think about the fading dream I had. Once again, I felt a presence that made me feel little more than one of the screws in the grand machine. The feeling is strong enough to persist as I continue to arise. This time, I manage to retain more from the dream. I remembered a soft voice of a woman but strained like she was angry. I try recalling more, but it slips away like an oiled snake. Forcing the memory to return fails to help; I let it go.

The can't see outside, but I get the feeling I haven't slept for long. I peer into the dim lighting. Aware something woke me from my sleep. I sit up slowly trying to identify the shadows around me. A pained moan draws my attention to the other side of the room. Maneuvering in the dark, I creep closer. There's another moan. I get close enough to see it's Zain. I could barely make out his flushed face soaked with sweat, plastering his hair to his head. With my basic knowledge of medicine, I learned from an introduction course I took in high school; I knew absolutely nothing I can do to help him.

Thinking the scratch from the susik made him sick, I lift his arm to see his wound. When removing the bandage, I almost drop it in recoil. Gagging when the smell of old fish hits me. Infected, and not an easily cured one; with Zain's mage blood, it has to be a highly fatal infection to have any effect on his system. I put his arm down when he starts to shake. I rush to wake the others, frantic.

"What's wrong?" Ivo says, running a hand down his face.

"I'm awake!" Daric yells, shooting up. His blurry, unfocused eyes are wide.

"Stop touching me," Monna growls.

These are the responses I get from the groggy bunch. I would have found them comical if I wasn't freaking out so much.

"Guys we have a problem. Get up," I bark.

Monna makes a noise in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes; turning away from me she lays back down. I snap. I understand she has no parents, so no one taught her manners, but it's okay. My inner bitch is about to help with the lesson. With a steely grip, I reach down and snatch her off the ground. I couldn't have done that with an average pre-teen, but Monna is too thin and too surprised to resist.

"I said we have a problem. Get. Up," my voice tight.

I push her toward Zain. I'm saved from getting into a fight with her when she sees the state he's in. Regardless of her feelings toward me, she genuinely cares about the others. Monna's noise of distress gets them moving faster.

"What's wrong?" Ivo asks. He mutters under his breath lighting up the room. Making it possible to see Zain's wound is red, swollen, and weep yellow pus.

"He has a high fever, and the wound on his arm isn't looking good." Monna replies, "He needs medicine. Made by a mage would be best."

She gets up to the corner of the room to grab a small container. I assume it's water as she rushes back to Zain's side grabbing a semi-clean cloth along the way. With extreme care and gentleness, she cleans him, redressing his wound. Everyone is distressed because they know as well as I the impossibility of getting any. There isn't a medical mage for...

"Wait," I say, "I know where we could find one." As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back.

"Where is he," Daric asks as he kneels and takes Zain's hand. They all turn to me hopeful.

"Well, um...I don't actually know where he is." Their eyes dimmed, "I know he is somewhere in the forest. We are - were - together before I, sort of...got lost."

"And how is that going to help us? You want us to search for, who knows how long, to find him? Zain could be dead by then!" Monna screeches.

I throw my hands up. "It's not like you have any better suggestions!"

"As a matter of fact, I do. We can get it from the Clinic."

Ivo and Daric stop moving. I ask, "If there is a clinic, let's take Zain to get treated there."

"NO!" They all say.

I stare wide-eyed, "and why not?"

They shift their eyes away reluctant. Finally, Daric says, "It's not just a clinic, it's THE Clinic and people who go in there to get treated, don't come back out."

If not for how scared they are, I might have laughed. It sounded like a line at the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Ivo picks up, "I heard that they take the sick and the weak and use them in experiments."

Zain groans of pain keep me from following that disturbing story.

"If we're not taking him to get treated, why are you suggesting we go there?" I ask.

"It's still a clinic. We can take the medicine we need," Monna explains.

I stare at her a beat, "You want to steal it."

She rolls her eyes; with biting sarcasm, she says, "Yes, that is what happens when you take something that is not yours."

I take a deep breath to stop myself from arguing with her because we're short on time. I was going to ask if there are any other options, but Zain is hit with hard coughs. Instead, I say, "how are we going to do this?" After all, is there a need to feel guilty about stealing when it's all in your head?

"We are going to bring him with us," she says.

I'm exasperated, "we cannot move him in this condition."

"And you think he has the time to wait for us to go to the town, get the medicine, and come back."

"Trying to take him with us will nearly double the time to get there and make him worse."

She stands, puffing up in anger, "At least if we bring him with us then he can take medicine as soon as we get it."

"She's right Emma," Ivo cuts in, "carrying him will make the trip a little longer, but not as long as going there and back."

"Which will do little good if he dies because his body can't handle the trip," I say.

"You don't know that," Ivo says.

"Look at him! His fever is sky high, he has the shakes, and is coughing hard enough to bruise a lung!"

"Emma, he might not make it if we leave him here." Daric's voice is small. My argument dies in my throat. He continues, "bringing him means he might get the medicine in time."

"I'll be...fine," Zain's wheezy voice manages between pants, "I can...make it."

I look him in the eye. "If we are going to do this you better hang on, got it?"

"Yes," Zain's eyes are glassy but hold resolve.