Fury: Book One of the Cure (Omnibus Edition) by Charlotte McConaghy Read Free Book Online Page A

She’s got a shitload of prescription pills. I read some of the labels and have no idea what any of them mean. I finally find a packet of strong pain medication.
    Getting her to take the tablets is no easy feat. I stroke her hair for a minute, trying to wake her up enough for her to swallow, but she just moans. I climb behind her, lifting her as gently as I can until she’s propped up against me. She’s so fucking hot it scares me. Her skin against mine is like a flame. I pry open her mouth—her jaw is locked—and put the pills right into her throat. Then I stroke her throat like you do with an animal—I have no idea if this is right, but it’s the only thing I can think of. She eventually swallows the pills and I sigh with relief.
    I start to move out from under her but she moans in pain and I freeze. It’s a god awful sound. After a moment I decide to stay put. I keep stroking her hair and soon she relaxes in my arms.
    I am scared.
    There’s no two ways around it. I can’t remember the last time I felt fear—probably around the start of my job—but I am definitely afraid right now. She feels hotter and hotter with every second that passes. I can’t take her to the hospital—I don’t want anyone to find out that she’s uncured.
    I have to do something. Gently, I lift her up. She weighs next to nothing in my arms, a creature so fragile I find it impossible to imagine her hurting anyone. She whimpers and trembles as I carry her into the tiny bathroom. She doesn’t have a bath, so I turn on the cold faucet of the shower and step into the recess with Josi still in my arms. It’s freezing and sudden, but even as I wince I feel her cool off.
    The water lasts for five minutes and then the legally required timer switches the faucet off. I consider overriding the controls to get her some more water, but then realize she’s now so cold that she’s shivering. Her lips are blue and her teeth chatter. Her two-colored eyes open drowsily and I can see the delirium that racks her.
    “So funny …” she mumbles. “It’s so funny.”
    “What is?” I ask, propping her against the tiled wall and wiping the wet hair from her face.
    “They break so easily. They just snap. Like twigs.”
    I don’t think I want to know what she’s talking about. “Let’s get you dry,” I suggest. I feel like a fucking retard, trying to look after someone when I can barely look after myself. I’ve never dealt with a sick person before.
    Her temperature seems better now though. I grab her only towel and carefully wipe her dry. Her head lolls onto her chin with a loud clack of her teeth. Her clothes are wet, but I think this might help to keep the fever down. I carry her back to the bed and lie her down. Then I get her a glass of water and sit it beside the bed.
    She’s got a couple of books scattered around—old paperbacks from what look to be the Bronze Ages. It’s rare to find real books these days, and I wonder how she managed to acquire these. I pick up her copy of Douglas Adams and cheer myself up with a bit of hitchhiking through the galaxy.
    I’m sprawled across the floor and deeply involved when I hear, “You need reading glasses.”
    Josephine is lying in bed, watching me sleepily. Her color is a lot better and I sigh in relief. “You’re alive.”
    “I don’t feel particularly alive,” she mutters. “Why am I all wet?”
    “We took a little dip. You were about to spontaneously combust.”
    She presses her face into the pillow.
    “Is this normal?” I ask, dog-earring my page. “Do you always burn a thousand degrees?”
    “Around this time of year.”
    “What else?” I crawl over to the bed.
    “Nothing else.”
    Her shirt has ridden up and I catch sight of a strip of skin. Her lower back is blue and purple. “Shit, Josi!” I reach out to lift her shirt up but she recoils, scurrying away so that her back is against the wall. She looks at me like I’ve just tried to attack her.
    “Sorry. You’re really