Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) by Deirdre Gould Read Free Book Online Page A

bacterial anyway. The man was lost. All she could do would be to reduce his fever and try to keep him hydrated. If Juliana did it, she risked catching it herself and spreading it to the others. But if Ruth stayed to care for him, she risked taking it back to Charlie and Bill. It wouldn’t matter much, she guessed. They would never even know they were sick.
    Her eyes filled with tears. She was exhausted and running on anxiety alone. She sat in the harsh light of the lantern and cried for a few minutes. Juliana knocked gently at the door and the man beside her started. Ruth scrabbled away from him, expecting him to launch himself at her. He opened his eyes and stared at her, but didn’t move. She opened the door and backed out.
    “You have to stay away Juliana. From this room, from that man and from anything he touches.”
    “Why? And how can I? He’ll die.”
    “He’s got pneumonia. He’s going to die anyway. It’s very contagious. Better for someone that was already dying to do it alone rather than take twenty-five healthy people with him.”
    “But you can help him. What do you need? I’ll find the plants—”
    Ruth shook her head. “I can’t help him. I don’t even know if I could have helped him in the old days, because I can’t tell if it’s viral or bacterial. Even if it’s bacterial, the antibiotics he needs take time to grow. At least a week if we didn’t want to kill him with a corrupt batch, if we had the right materials.”
    “I’ll start it tonight. What do we need?”
    “He’s not going to make it a week, Juliana. He’s at the crisis point right now or has already passed it. He’ll either get worse and die in the next several hours, or his fever will break once his body is successfully fighting off the infection on its own. All I can do is try to make him comfortable and keep him hydrated and breathing. I have almost everything I need, except the IV stuff. I need you to go to my house. My husband, Bill, will know what you need. Wait until morning. I’m not sure that the man will last that long, and it would make the trip pointless.” Ruth paused with a hand on the door. “I need you to tell Bill why I’m not coming home in the morning. He won’t believe you, but try. I need you to make him promise to wait for me.”
    “Wait for you to do what?”
    “He’ll know. Don’t leave that house until he promises to wait for me, you understand?”
    Juliana nodded.
    “Come back when it’s light and knock on the door. I’ll tell you how to get there. But don’t open the door to that room again until I say so. Do you have any alcohol?”
    “You mean like disinfectant?”
    “Yes. If you have some, put a small bottle outside the door with some rags that can be burned. I’ll disinfect myself when I come out.”
    Juliana shook her head and blew out a small sigh. “Forgive me,” she said, “this just all seems so— I don’t know, old-fashioned, like something out of an 1800s book where the kid dies of scarlet fever or something.”
    “Modern medicine is over, Juliana. This place is evidence of how terribly it’s failed. At least I know what to do for pneumonia.” She quietly opened the door and shut herself inside with the dying man. She pulled a mask from her bag and fitted it over her face, but she knew her chances of avoiding infection weren’t great. She rolled the man onto his back and pressed an ambu bag from her kit over his face. His eyes fluttered and his upper lip curled back in a snarl, but he didn’t wake up enough to become agitated. Ruth knelt beside him and began squeezing air into his lungs in short bursts. It would relieve his body’s struggle for oxygen, and it was the most she could do.
    If he fights it off, he’ll just wake up to more misery and pain, she thought. She stopped squeezing and watched the mist from his warm exhale cloud up the mouthpiece. She could end it for him. He was sleeping deeply, even in the depth of illness. He was probably more at ease