The Walk by Richard Paul Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

especially when the body has already been weakened. When they reach this stage, they’re very dangerous.”
    “So what do you do?”
    “We’ve upped her antibiotics. She’s on a pretty powerful dosage. Now we carefully monitor her and wait to see how her body responds. We’ve also sedated her. A fever this high can be quite uncomfortable.”
    I raked my hair back with my hand. “I can’t believe this. This morning we were celebrating. Her leg was moving. We thought she was gaining her nerves back.”
    “Involuntary muscle spasms,” he said. “It’s caused by the infection.” He had a strained, worried look in his eyes that made me wonder if he was holding back. “I just want you to be prepared.” He touched my shoulder then turned and walked away. I watched him go, then I walked down to the men’s room. It was a one-occupant bathroom, and I locked the door, then knelt on the tile floor and began to pray.
    “God, if you’re there, I’ll give you anything. Just spare her life. I beg you, don’t take her from me.” I was on my knees for another ten minutes, until someone tried the door.
    How much more humble can you be
, I thought.
Kneeling on the floor of a public bathroom. Surely God would hear my prayer.
But the truth is, I felt like I was praying to nothing. I might as well have been praying to the urinal. I got up and went back in to McKale’s room. She looked paler already.
    “What did he say?” she asked softly.
    I didn’t want to frighten her. “He said it’s just a little infection.”
    “It doesn’t feel so little . . . ,” she said, grimacing. She looked up at me. “You must be so tired of all this.”
    I took her hand. “I’m tired of you going through all this.”
    “It won’t be much longer,” she said.
    I looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
    She closed her eyes. “Stay close to me.”

CHAPTER
Fifteen
    Don’t deceive yourself. Things can always get worse.
    Alan Christoffersen’s diary
    The painkillers did their job, and McKale slept for three more hours. Her temperature had fallen back down to 104° but no lower. Everything else seemed to stay the same, which I suppose was a mixed blessing.
    It was around nine or so when she opened her eyes. They were heavy with fever. She tried to speak, but her words were labored and slurred, and, at first, I couldn’t understand her. I put my ear next to her mouth. “What did you say?”
    Her voice was barely a whisper. “Orcas Island.”
    I looked at her quizzically. “What?”
    “That’s where I was going to take you.”
    Orcas Island is the largest of the San Juan islands, located off the northern coast of Washington. We had celebrated my college graduation there, staying in a bed and breakfast built from a restored farm house. It was one of my fondest memories. I had never been more happy or felt more in love.
    “Do you know when I knew I would marry you?”
    “When?”
    “That day in the tree house. You said you’d never leave me.” Her brow furrowed, likely as much from pain as concentration. “Do you remember?”
    “Yes.”
    She swallowed. “You never did.”
    “And I never will.”
    After a moment she said, “I’m leaving you.” I looked into her face. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
    “Don’t talk that way, McKale.”
    “Promise me . . .”
    “Don’t, Mickey . . .”
    “Please. Promise me two things.”
    My heart was racing. “What?”
    “Don’t leave me.”
    “I’ll never leave you. You know that.”
    She swallowed. “I don’t want to die alone.”
    Her words sent a chill through me. “Mickey, don’t say that. You’re not going to die.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You’re going to beat this. We’re going to beat this.”
    “Okay. Okay.” Her words sounded more like pants. She closed her eyes again. A few minutes later a nurse came in. She checked the monitors and frowned.
    “What’s going on?” I asked.
    “Her blood pressure’s falling.”
    “What does that mean?”
    She