The throbbing in her head kept her from ever truly falling asleep. Shay had laid damp cloths across her skin but nothing stopped the whimpering or the fitful tossing. While the three adults tried to quietly make dinner and discuss where to go next, Cecelia murmured nonsense from her fevered dreams.
“I think she's getting worse, Shay.”
“I know. Shut up.”
“Just sayin'. Dirk said he's not sure what's wrong with her.”
“Shut. Up.” She growled, pointing a paring knife at him. “We're passing by an outpost in a few days. Wasn't planning on stopping originally, but now we are.”
The retrogrades lapsed into silence. As Shay was adding carrots to a pot of boiling water, she heard scuffling from the caravan. She turned in time to see Cecelia heave herself over the side and vomit crimson.
“Cecelia!” The girl cringed at the noise. Shay whispered an apology and grabbed her, pulling her back into the wagon bed. “Shit, you're burning up.”
“Shay...I don't...” She retched again, splattering blood-stained bile. Shay could see she was gritting her teeth, her body tense with the effort of holding in ragged coughs. A futile effort. They ripped open her throat and Cecelia crumpled, shaking uncontrollably.
“Shh. Cecelia.” Shay spoke soothingly and hugged her ward. Illness happened; she could handle colds and viruses. This, whatever this was, frightened her. Even worse, it was something the sawbones did not understand. “We'll find you a doctor, soon as we can.”
Cecelia did not respond. Once the fit subsided, she felt entirely too limp in the retrograde's arms.
“HEY! GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!” Shay screamed. “Run down the road. Find a medic. Tell them a girl’s dying. Go, hurry!”
They didn't argue, or ask questions. They simply nodded and ran off in opposite directions, each hoping to find some night travelers. For Shay, it was an agonizing wait. There was nothing to do but hold onto Cecelia and listen to her shallow breath.
“Take a look, it's on display for you, coming down no not today...”
Shay's husky voice caught on the words of a song she knew Cecelia loved. They shared Kings, and it only seemed right to sing her out if she was...
“No...not now.”
Shay finished the song. She pressed a finger to Cecelia’s throat, taking the small comfort that was a still a pulse, however weak. Still a chance. Minutes ticked by, though they felt like hours, and her men did not return. She continued to hum. She hoped Cecelia could hear her.
“I found one!”
Nearly crying with relief, the woman picked up Cecelia and moved her back into the caravan, then lit all the lanterns she could. Tarid urged a pale, bespectacled lascarian into the wagon. “She just threw up, blood fucking everywhere. Fix her...please.”
The doctor blinked against the light, adjusting her glasses, and knelt beside Cecelia. “Hm...she is a curious color, did you notice?” she said in a low voice.
“Yeah...figured it was a strain thing. Didn't seem to hurt her none.” Shay answered.
Carefully, the lascarian pulled back one of Cecelia's eyelids. “Do you know what her strain is?”
“Remnant, we guess. Never told us, never thought to ask.” The irrelevant questions, to Shay anyway, were beginning to get on her nerves. She sat on the bench, bouncing her leg rapidly.
“You'd be wrong. She's an accensor.” The doctor opened her medical bag. “A very sick accensor. That coloring isn't normal for her. It happens when blood is unhealthy.”
The retrograde paused, unsure how to process this. “What does that mean?”
“She needs a transfusion. Sometime soon. From what I can tell she has not had one for a while now, and her body will start to fail her.” She peered at Shay sharply. “I won't bother asking how you didn't notice this before. She's obviously not one of yours.”
Shay squeezed her hands into fists. Quietly, Tarid laid a comforting hand on her thigh. “Just...is she going to die?”
“She will, eventually.” The doctor said this very matter-of-factly. She paused at the sound of footsteps outside, rigidly alert, until she noticed that the caravanners weren't concerned at all. Dirk climbed in, nodded to the doctor and sat down. “She can hold out for a little longer, but ultimately she will need blood.” She checked the contents of her back again. “What I can do for you is supply some medicine and hope for the best. I have no tools to perform a transfusion, and even if I did we lack a suitable donor.”
Her answer came immediately. “Give it to her.” Dirk and Tarid exchanged glances across the wagon. No way was this coming cheap.
The lascarian picked out a small vial and two needles. She loaded one, checked the dose and injected it into Cecelia's forearm. Then she held out an open palm. “I can leave a needle with you in case of emergencies, but I will need compensation. Hard to make this stuff, you understand.”
Shay dug into her wallet. “What's it worth? I have some credits...we've got food to spare...” The lascarian took one look at the handful of credits Shay had to offer and frowned.
“'Fraid it's more valuable than that.”
“Here.” Tarid flung down a sweet-smelling greenish plant. Her dark eyes went wide and she quickly stowed it her kit. Tarid took the loaded needle in exchange and pressed it into Shay's hands. “You owe me hooch. The good shit.”
Packing up her things, the doctor shouldered her bag and stood. “If three days pass and you still don't have blood for her, give her the needle. It'll buy her some time, at least. If she wakes up try to get her to drink water.” She hopped out of the back and headed back to her caravan. Shay hid the medication under her driver's seat and resumed watch over the sick girl, soaking another rag and laying it across her burning forehead.
“Shay...?”
“Go to sleep. We're leaving early.”
“What about you?”
“Don't worry. Just make sure you're ready to move.”
***
Light cut through the muggy wagon bed, searing her eyes. Cecelia cringed, curling into a tight knot.
“Sorry kiddo, Dirk said fresh air would do you good though.” The brightness dimmed. If she squinted between her fingers, Cecelia could see that Shay hanging a gauzy curtain in the open window. “Better?”
She nodded. Her throat still felt swollen and it was hard to swallow anything, much less speak. Matted hair clung to the back of her neck and her entire body ached terribly but she lived.
The retrograde took a seat across from Cecelia’s bed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
As much as it hurt, her shoulders hunched and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to become as small as possible. “'fraid you’d turn me back,” she croaked.
“Hey. Listen. We’re not gonna leave you behind, not ever. But...we gotta know these things, okay?” Shay reached for Cecelia’s face, stopping just short when the girl looked up. “Let me know. We’ll get you help before it gets this bad. Promise me?”
“Promise.”
“I think she's getting worse, Shay.”
“I know. Shut up.”
“Just sayin'. Dirk said he's not sure what's wrong with her.”
“Shut. Up.” She growled, pointing a paring knife at him. “We're passing by an outpost in a few days. Wasn't planning on stopping originally, but now we are.”
The retrogrades lapsed into silence. As Shay was adding carrots to a pot of boiling water, she heard scuffling from the caravan. She turned in time to see Cecelia heave herself over the side and vomit crimson.
“Cecelia!” The girl cringed at the noise. Shay whispered an apology and grabbed her, pulling her back into the wagon bed. “Shit, you're burning up.”
“Shay...I don't...” She retched again, splattering blood-stained bile. Shay could see she was gritting her teeth, her body tense with the effort of holding in ragged coughs. A futile effort. They ripped open her throat and Cecelia crumpled, shaking uncontrollably.
“Shh. Cecelia.” Shay spoke soothingly and hugged her ward. Illness happened; she could handle colds and viruses. This, whatever this was, frightened her. Even worse, it was something the sawbones did not understand. “We'll find you a doctor, soon as we can.”
Cecelia did not respond. Once the fit subsided, she felt entirely too limp in the retrograde's arms.
“HEY! GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!” Shay screamed. “Run down the road. Find a medic. Tell them a girl’s dying. Go, hurry!”
They didn't argue, or ask questions. They simply nodded and ran off in opposite directions, each hoping to find some night travelers. For Shay, it was an agonizing wait. There was nothing to do but hold onto Cecelia and listen to her shallow breath.
“Take a look, it's on display for you, coming down no not today...”
Shay's husky voice caught on the words of a song she knew Cecelia loved. They shared Kings, and it only seemed right to sing her out if she was...
“No...not now.”
Shay finished the song. She pressed a finger to Cecelia’s throat, taking the small comfort that was a still a pulse, however weak. Still a chance. Minutes ticked by, though they felt like hours, and her men did not return. She continued to hum. She hoped Cecelia could hear her.
“I found one!”
Nearly crying with relief, the woman picked up Cecelia and moved her back into the caravan, then lit all the lanterns she could. Tarid urged a pale, bespectacled lascarian into the wagon. “She just threw up, blood fucking everywhere. Fix her...please.”
The doctor blinked against the light, adjusting her glasses, and knelt beside Cecelia. “Hm...she is a curious color, did you notice?” she said in a low voice.
“Yeah...figured it was a strain thing. Didn't seem to hurt her none.” Shay answered.
Carefully, the lascarian pulled back one of Cecelia's eyelids. “Do you know what her strain is?”
“Remnant, we guess. Never told us, never thought to ask.” The irrelevant questions, to Shay anyway, were beginning to get on her nerves. She sat on the bench, bouncing her leg rapidly.
“You'd be wrong. She's an accensor.” The doctor opened her medical bag. “A very sick accensor. That coloring isn't normal for her. It happens when blood is unhealthy.”
The retrograde paused, unsure how to process this. “What does that mean?”
“She needs a transfusion. Sometime soon. From what I can tell she has not had one for a while now, and her body will start to fail her.” She peered at Shay sharply. “I won't bother asking how you didn't notice this before. She's obviously not one of yours.”
Shay squeezed her hands into fists. Quietly, Tarid laid a comforting hand on her thigh. “Just...is she going to die?”
“She will, eventually.” The doctor said this very matter-of-factly. She paused at the sound of footsteps outside, rigidly alert, until she noticed that the caravanners weren't concerned at all. Dirk climbed in, nodded to the doctor and sat down. “She can hold out for a little longer, but ultimately she will need blood.” She checked the contents of her back again. “What I can do for you is supply some medicine and hope for the best. I have no tools to perform a transfusion, and even if I did we lack a suitable donor.”
Her answer came immediately. “Give it to her.” Dirk and Tarid exchanged glances across the wagon. No way was this coming cheap.
The lascarian picked out a small vial and two needles. She loaded one, checked the dose and injected it into Cecelia's forearm. Then she held out an open palm. “I can leave a needle with you in case of emergencies, but I will need compensation. Hard to make this stuff, you understand.”
Shay dug into her wallet. “What's it worth? I have some credits...we've got food to spare...” The lascarian took one look at the handful of credits Shay had to offer and frowned.
“'Fraid it's more valuable than that.”
“Here.” Tarid flung down a sweet-smelling greenish plant. Her dark eyes went wide and she quickly stowed it her kit. Tarid took the loaded needle in exchange and pressed it into Shay's hands. “You owe me hooch. The good shit.”
Packing up her things, the doctor shouldered her bag and stood. “If three days pass and you still don't have blood for her, give her the needle. It'll buy her some time, at least. If she wakes up try to get her to drink water.” She hopped out of the back and headed back to her caravan. Shay hid the medication under her driver's seat and resumed watch over the sick girl, soaking another rag and laying it across her burning forehead.
“Shay...?”
“Go to sleep. We're leaving early.”
“What about you?”
“Don't worry. Just make sure you're ready to move.”
***
Light cut through the muggy wagon bed, searing her eyes. Cecelia cringed, curling into a tight knot.
“Sorry kiddo, Dirk said fresh air would do you good though.” The brightness dimmed. If she squinted between her fingers, Cecelia could see that Shay hanging a gauzy curtain in the open window. “Better?”
She nodded. Her throat still felt swollen and it was hard to swallow anything, much less speak. Matted hair clung to the back of her neck and her entire body ached terribly but she lived.
The retrograde took a seat across from Cecelia’s bed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
As much as it hurt, her shoulders hunched and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to become as small as possible. “'fraid you’d turn me back,” she croaked.
“Hey. Listen. We’re not gonna leave you behind, not ever. But...we gotta know these things, okay?” Shay reached for Cecelia’s face, stopping just short when the girl looked up. “Let me know. We’ll get you help before it gets this bad. Promise me?”
“Promise.”