12. Eliza
12
ELIZA
T he trees whispered, their brittle branches creaking like bones breaking in the cold. Eliza’s breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning with each step. The path to the cabin was uneven, scattered with roots that seemed determined to trip her at every turn. They had to be cautious on the last leg of the journey, avoiding any trouble at all costs.
Eliza stumbled again, nearly dragging River down with her. River’s grip tightened on her hand, pulling her up.
“We’re almost there,” River panted, though her voice carried none of the certainty it had an hour ago.
“I knew you’d work it out. You’re like an orienteering master or something.” Eliza smiled.
“You think? Well, that’s kind of you to say, because I was starting to get a little worried.”
Eliza nodded, but her legs felt like lead, each movement agonizing. Her body was bruised and battered, her muscles aching from the unrelenting pace and constant fear. She was so certain that she was turning into one of them. She was also surprised by the strength of her feelings for River.
“What was that?” she asked, with more than a hint of panic in her voice.
Every sound in the forest seemed amplified—the snap of a twig, the rustle of dead leaves underfoot, the distant cry of something that wasn’t human. Her eyes darted to the shadows, her heart hammering. She had to remind herself to breathe, to stay calm. They couldn’t afford to panic now, not with the cabin so close.
“Don’t worry. It’s the same old noises. The dead must be making their way into the woods, but we can hear them coming a mile off. Just stay close to me.”
“Do you think…” Eliza’s voice faltered, but she forced the words out. “Do you think he’s still going to be there?”
River didn’t answer immediately. Her jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. She’d been the strong one on this journey, the one Eliza had been able to count on when everything seemed impossible. But now, even River’s face showed cracks. Her skin was a ghostly white, and her movements were sluggish. It was as if exhaustion had finally caught up with her.
“He has to be,” River said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at Eliza, her eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion. “He just has to be.”
Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat and kept moving, but the silence between them was suffocating. She couldn’t stop thinking about what River had said about the last time she saw her father—his face pale and feverish. She’d left him behind with promises to return, but now, with each step that brought them closer to the cabin, her mind replayed the final image that River had given her: her father lying on the floor, his chest barely rising and falling, the blood loss...
Is this guy really going to have survived? I doubt it. But I can’t tell her that. I’ve never once been able to tell her that. I’ll do everything I can to help. She needs me to.
Her hand slipped from River’s for just a moment. She reached out, grabbing for River’s arm, gripping it as if she might lose her in the growing darkness.
“Hey,” River said softly, stopping to look at her. Her face, despite everything, still held a glimmer of hope. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you that, right?”
Eliza nodded, though the weight in her chest wouldn’t lift. She couldn’t lose River. She’d lost her family already, and she was going to have to accept that she may never see them again, but River was now like her new family, and the surprising connection brought her some warmth in the new, cold, dark world.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking—minutes, hours, it all blurred together—but when the outline of the cabin finally came into view through the trees, Eliza felt a surge of relief so powerful it almost knocked her off her feet.
“Is that it?” she shouted. “Is that your place, Riv? Please tell me we’re here.”
“Yes! There it is,” River said, her voice laced with disbelief. “We made it. We fucking made it!”
But as they approached the cabin, Eliza’s stomach twisted into knots. Something felt off. The air around it was too still, too quiet. She exchanged a glance with River, who was frowning as her eyes scanned the perimeter.
“Do you think…?” Eliza started, but the words died on her lips.
River didn’t answer. She pushed forward, her steps quickening as they neared the front door. The cabin’s wood was old and weathered, the windows dark, reflecting nothing but the growing gloom around them. Eliza’s heart pounded in her chest as River reached for the door handle, her hand trembling slightly. She hesitated, just for a moment, and then pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sickness. The dim light from the windows barely illuminated the small room, but there, on the bed in the corner, was River’s father, Thomas.
“Dad! I’m back!” cried River. “You got yourself into the bed? But how? Oh my God!”
“Thomas, hi. My name’s Eliza. I…” Eliza’s voice cracked as she rushed forward, her legs almost giving out beneath her as she reached his side.
He didn’t respond. His skin was gray, and his chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and his eyes were closed, his face contorted in pain. There was a crumpled bottle of water next to his hand and a wrapper from some kind of protein bar.
“He’s lost so much weight. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s worse than I thought,” River whispered, kneeling beside him. She placed a hand on his forehead and pulled it back immediately, her eyes wide with alarm. “He’s burning up. You don’t think one of them got in here, do you?”
“I don’t. He’d be dead if the infected had gotten in. Listen, Riv. He’s actually better than I thought he would be,” Eliza admitted. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled the blanket back, revealing the full extent of his condition. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, and the wound on his leg had turned an angry red, the infection spreading outward like a dark web.
“We have to do something,” River said, her voice rising in panic. “Do you know how to?—”
“Calm down,” Eliza interrupted, though her voice was far from steady. “I can save him. I have to try.”
Eliza’s heart raced as River rummaged through what little supplies they had left. Her movements were frantic, her hands shaking as she grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and a few bandages.
“I can’t lose him,” River whispered.
Eliza’s hands hovered over Thomas’s body as she tried to push away the stress that threatened to cloud her judgment. “We have to clean the wound first. That’s the priority.”
River nodded, swallowing as she reached for the antiseptic and a clean rag. Eliza dabbed the antiseptic onto the wound and Thomas groaned, his face contorting. Her heart clenched, but she kept going. They didn’t have time for hesitation.
River’s voice was strained as she spoke. “Are you going to cut away the infected tissue?”
Eliza froze. “That’s the idea…but with what?”
River’s eyes were dark as she met Eliza’s gaze. “There’s a knife in the kitchen.”
Eliza’s stomach lurched at the thought, but she knew River was right. If they didn’t act fast, the infection would spread even farther, and then there would be no hope for Thomas.
“Fine. Get it. It’ll have to do,” Eliza said, her voice steadier than she felt.
River hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to the door as if she were listening for something beyond the walls. Then, with a nod, she turned and headed to the kitchen to retrieve the knife. The silence that followed was suffocating. Eliza could barely breathe as she looked down at Thomas’s feverish face. His life was hanging by a thread, but if River realized just how bad it was, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Eliza knew it.
When River returned, the knife glinting in the dim light, a cold dread settled over Eliza. She took the knife, her hand trembling as she approached Thomas’s side.
“You can do this,” River whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll hold him down.”
Eliza nodded, though her mouth was dry. She gripped the knife as tightly as she could.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them—Eliza and Thomas—and the sound of his breathing, faint and ragged. Her vision blurred as she positioned the blade just above the infected tissue.
“I’ve done this a thousand times before. Why am I so scared? Okay. Here goes nothing,” she muttered, quiet enough that River couldn’t hear.
She pressed the knife against the edge of the infected tissue, and Thomas jerked violently beneath her touch. His body spasmed, his head twisting to the side as a low moan escaped his lips.
“Hold him still,” Eliza hissed. “I can’t have him thrashing around like that. I don’t have anything to anesthetize him with, so pin him down.”
River leaned down, pressing her weight against her father’s shoulders, holding him steady as Eliza continued cutting. Each slice felt like it was cutting through rotten meat. Blood and pus seeped from the wound and the stench of infection was unbearable, but Eliza didn’t stop.
Thomas groaned again, louder this time, his eyelids fluttering as if he was on the verge of waking up. His body trembled beneath their hands. Eliza became more and more fearful with every sound that escaped his lips, but she steeled herself, forcing herself to keep working. She couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment. Not now.
“You almost done?” River whispered from across the bed. Her voice strained as she fought to keep Thomas still. Her knuckles were white as she gripped his shoulders. “You’ve got this. Just a little more.”
Eliza nodded, though she had no words of comfort for River. Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she focused on the rotting flesh she was slowly carving away. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl, each second stretching into an eternity. The cabin was deathly silent, save for Thomas’s labored breathing and the occasional rustle of movement as River adjusted her grip.
Finally, Eliza removed the last piece of dead tissue and dropped the knife onto the floor. Her hands were covered in thick, jelly-like blood. She reached for the bottle of antiseptic and poured the liquid over the wound, watching as it bubbled and hissed, cleansing the raw flesh beneath.
Thomas arched his back as the antiseptic burned through him. Eliza flinched, guilt stabbing at her heart, but she forced herself to keep pouring. She grabbed the clean bandages from the table and wrapped them tightly around his leg, sealing the wound as best as she could.
When she was finally done, she sat back on her heels, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She felt as though she might collapse right there on the floor.
River slowly released her grip on Thomas and sank to a seat beside him, her face drawn. She reached for Eliza’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “You did it, you fucking did it!” she whispered, her voice thick with relief. “He’s still with us.”
Eliza stared down at Thomas. He looked so fragile, so close to the edge of death, and Eliza couldn’t shake the fear that they hadn’t done enough. That despite everything, they were still going to lose him.
“Is it going to be enough?” River’s voice trembled as she looked up at Eliza, clearly desperate for some reassurance.
“I don’t know,” Eliza admitted quietly. “I did what I could for now. I’m going to have to set the bone soon, or the leg will be permanently damaged. But he has to be in a fit state before I operate. And I need sterile conditions…or as close as I can get.”
“But…” River whispered. “Say we manage that, and you fix his leg. He’ll be fine after that, won’t he? He’ll be normal?”
“Things will never go back to normal, sweetheart,” Eliza replied sadly. “He could have suffered brain damage. The infection could cause sepsis. We don’t know anything yet. It looks like he’s had a serious head trauma. We might find he has convulsions now, or seizures. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. He needs antibiotics, rest, and monitoring to start.”
“I do,” River stated, her eyes glazed over. “I want you to make promises you might not be able to keep. Make them, Eliza. For me.”
Eliza stared at River, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy stone. The room felt smaller and tighter, and the distance between them was more than physical.
“I can’t do that, River. You know I can’t. I will always be honest with you, like I would be with anyone I care for, or treated at work. I will never lie to you.”
River’s hands clenched at her sides as she started pacing, each step quick and restless. “I need him, Eliza. He’s the only person in the world who means anything to me.”
Eliza stood still, the statement landing with a cold, brutal finality. “What?” she asked, the quiet in her voice sharper than any shout. “Do I not mean anything to you now that you’ve gotten the help you wanted?”
River looked at her, guilt flashing briefly in her eyes, only to be replaced by a guarded expression. “It’s not like that, Eliza. You don’t understand. He’s my father. I can’t just…I can’t let him die. You don’t know what that would do to me.”
Eliza felt the room shift, her thoughts swirling with the sharp sting of River’s words. “And what do you think this is doing to me?” she asked, her gaze fixed on a point just past River, refusing to meet her eyes. “I said I love you, River. I thought we were in this together. But right now, it feels like I’m just…nothing. I’m just your doctor, right?”
River’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Eliza turned away, her mind spinning, trying to grasp the reality of what she’d just heard.
“I thought we mattered,” she whispered, the quiet of the room suddenly overwhelming. Eliza’s heart felt heavy with uncertainty. She glanced out the window, where the last traces of daylight had faded completely, leaving the world outside shrouded in darkness. “Anyway, I think he’ll make it through the night,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.
River didn’t answer right away. She stared down at her father. Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was weighing her words carefully. Finally, she looked up at Eliza, her expression grim. “You need to do better than that. We’ll keep watch and do whatever we can.”
They sat quietly, the weight of their exhaustion pressing down on them. The cabin was cold. Eliza shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she listened to River’s steady breathing.
“Why does it feel like everything is hitting me at once?” Eliza whispered, her voice breaking.
River’s gaze softened as she reached out to touch Eliza’s arm. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to say those things. I’m confused…and totally devastated. I know we’re doing everything we can,” she said gently. “Well, you are. It turns out I’m pretty useless.”
Eliza looked away. “Don’t talk crazy. You got us here. You saved me too.”
After a long silence, River stood up and walked over to the small fireplace in the corner of the cabin. She crouched down and began to stoke the embers, adding a few logs to the dying fire. The flames sputtered to life.
“We should keep him warm,” River said, her voice practical but strained. “The fever is bad, but the cold will only make things worse, right?”
Eliza nodded, still sitting beside Thomas. She reached for the extra blankets folded in the corner of the room and gently draped them over his body, tucking the edges around him to keep the heat in. His skin was clammy, but at least now he wasn’t shivering.
River returned to sit on the floor beside her, the fire’s warmth slowly spreading through the room. “We’ll take turns watching him,” Eliza suggested quietly. “One of us can rest while the other stays awake. We’ll need our strength if things get worse.”
River shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
Eliza gave her a small, sad smile. “I know,” she said softly. “But you’re no good to him if you’re too exhausted to think straight.”
The minutes stretched into hours as they sat in the dim light of the cabin, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The wind outside had picked up, rattling the windows and howling through the trees like a distant wail. Eliza’s body was stiff and sore and her muscles ached, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
At some point, River dozed off in the chair by the fire, her body slumped with exhaustion. Eliza didn’t wake her. She knew River needed the rest. Constant fear gnawed at her, keeping her awake, her mind constantly circling back to the question that had been plaguing her since they arrived: would Thomas survive? Would he be able to make sense of the world he woke up in?
Eliza’s eyes burned with exhaustion and her body screamed for rest, but her heart wouldn’t let her leave his side. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers through his hair, her touch feather-light. His skin was still warm, too warm, but the fever didn’t seem to have worsened. Not yet.
“Come on, Thomas,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “You have to fight. Your daughter needs you.”
Her words balanced in the air, unanswered, as the night stretched on. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the edge of the bed, her fingers still tangled in his hair. She closed her eyes for just a moment.
Suddenly, Thomas stirred.
Eliza’s head snapped up, her heart leaping into her throat as his eyelids fluttered. His lips parted and a low sound escaped him—a sound halfway between a groan and a whisper.
“Thomas?” Eliza’s voice was sharp and panicked as she leaned over him. “Thomas, can you hear me?”
His eyelids opened, revealing a sliver of dark, feverish gaze staring up at her.
“Who the hell are you? Get off my property,” he spat, his fingers curling into a fist as he raised his arm.