Chapter 29 Kit #2
“I didn’t come here for an assessment of my character,” I said. “You will do whatever you can to ensure my recruit lives through this, or I will gut you where you stand.”
“You know as well as I do that there isn’t much to be done.
There’s no antidote for hemlock. That’s why it was chosen.
” He swallowed, flinching as the edge of the knife scraped against his throat.
“Getting fluids in him might help, but it’s almost as much a risk injecting something into his veins as it is to wait out the poison. ”
I’d waited already, sitting on the kitchen floor until Penny convulsed in my arms. He was waiting now, alone and in need of whatever intervention Harlan could provide.
“Do it,” I snapped. “Get what you need. And hurry.”
He glared up at me. “Fine. Let go of me.”
I released his shirt and lowered the knife.
He stepped back as soon as he was able, and turned to the long counter that stretched half the length of the room.
It was cluttered with jars and vials, and shelves stretched up to the ceiling behind it full of every sort of herb or remedy I could have imagined.
He pulled a bag from the far end and packed it with a roll of canvas tied with a leather strap, gauze and bandages in a glass jar, and a large jug of clear liquid.
I urged him through lacing up his boots and pulling on his own cloak before he finally shouldered the bag and gestured for me to lead the way.
I tucked my knife back into its sheath and braced for the cold as I pulled the door open.
We set off, following what little sign was left of my trail from my trip there.
It was slow going, exhaustion weighing me down and making each step twice as much effort as it should have been.
Numbness crept up my legs, and I couldn’t even feel my thighs by the time we climbed the two steps to my front door.
Once the door shut behind us, Harlan tossed his wet cloak over the arm of the couch and stamped the snow from his boots. “Where is he?”
I waved for the older man to follow, shedding my own cloak in a heap in the hall as I crossed through to the kitchen.
Penny was, thankfully, just where I’d left him.
His long, slender body was stretched across the floor, blond head nestled in the couch pillows.
Sweat glistened on his forehead and cheeks, and his chest fluttered with rapid breaths.
“I need you to help me move him to the bed,” I said, crouching to press a hand to Penny’s face and dismayed by how cool and clammy it was.
“Of course, you do,” Harlan muttered, turning toward the hall. “Which room?”
“My old room.”
He disappeared, presumably to deposit his bag in the room in question, and returned a few moments later. “Get his feet. Can’t trust you not to drop him.” He shooed me away and stooped to slide his arms under Penny’s shoulders.
I did as I was told, throwing back the blanket and grabbing Penny’s ankles, then grunting with the effort to lift him.
My arms shook, and my knees were ready to give out, but I forced my body to cooperate as we carried him down the hall and set him in the bed.
And as soon as he was settled, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and sank onto the edge of the mattress.
Harlan retrieved his bag from the top of the dresser, pulling out the canvas roll and undoing the tie to reveal several sizable syringes and needles. He glanced at me over his shoulder as he unloaded the other items. “Get a fire going.”
I slid off the bed and practically crawled to the fireplace, tucking some kindling into the cracks between the logs and striking a match to set it alight. Sitting back, I fed in additional kindling until the larger pieces of wood caught.
The warmth was welcome and needed, washing over my body still chilled from the journey through the snow.
I rubbed my hands together and raised them toward the flames, feeling the slightest sense of calm.
I'd done what was necessary, and now Harlan was here.
Penny had the help he needed. He would pull through this. He had to.
Movement from the bed drew my eye. When I glanced back, my stomach dropped. Penny was seizing again. His whole body jerked uncontrollably. Harlan swooped in and rolled him onto his side before backing off to wait it out.
I blinked away tears and tried to control my ragged breaths for fear of betraying my panic.
It wasn’t safe to let Harlan know that Penny was my weakness.
It would only give him material to use against me like I had against him, though if Penny didn’t live through this, none of it would matter anyway.
Eventually, Penny settled to lay deathly still. I watched with growing dread as his chest failed to rise and fall, and the seconds stretched on far too long.
“He’s not breathing,” I rasped. My voice sounded far away in my own ears.
Harlan muttered a curse and pushed Penny onto his back, tipping his head and pulling his chin down to open his lips while pinching his nose shut.
The old man sealed his mouth over Penny’s and forced air into his lungs several times before drawing upright.
The silence seemed deafening until Penny took in a sharp, rattling breath on his own.
Relief washed over me, and I dragged myself over to lean against the foot of the bed.
Harlan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s not fit to survive this,” he said.
I fixed him with a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The old man gestured toward Penny sprawled limp and ashen across the mattress. “His body is failing. He’ll pass by the morning.”
“No, he won’t. He can’t.” My head shook so hard I worried it might come loose. “You don’t understand; he has a widowed mother and a sister. They need him.” Beyond that, one other thought echoed inside my head until it became deafening: I need him.
Harlan grunted and returned to the dresser. He removed two needles from the canvas roll along with a pair of metal forceps. I watched as he ran first one needle and then the second through the flames to sterilize them.
“I’ll do what you want, but I won’t be held responsible if he dies.” He screwed the needles onto two separate syringes, then drew up a measure of the fluids from the jug in each of them. He offered one out to me. “Only touch the barrel.”
I did as he asked and looked away as he slid the first needle into a vein on the inside of Penny’s left elbow and depressed the plunger.
He set the syringe aside and reached for the jar of gauze, pressing a bundle of it to the injection site and binding it up with a bandage.
He repeated the process on Penny’s right arm, and then began packing things away.
I dragged myself up to sit on the edge of the mattress again, watching expectantly for some sign of improvement that didn’t come.
As Harlan retrieved his bag, I hauled myself to my feet to see him out. In the living room, he wound his cloak around his shoulders.
“What should I do if he stops breathing again?” I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.
Harlan paused in fastening the clasp of the cloak at his throat. He was quiet long enough that I looked up and caught the disdain in his eyes.
“Sharpen your knife,” he replied. “You’ll need it to clean his bones.”
My blood ran cold. I couldn’t manage a response before Harlan stepped out and slammed the door in his wake. It was all I could do to engage the lock before I bolted to the kitchen.
I barely made it to the sink before my stomach twisted.
There was nothing left to throw up, but the thought of stripping the flesh from Penny’s bones inspired a wave of violent heaves that left me breathless for the second time that night.
By the time they passed, I was draped over the edge of the basin, wracked with sobs.
I couldn’t lose him. I’d told him I didn’t know how to go on without him anymore, and it hadn’t been an exaggeration.
He was the one bright spot in a life that had been fraught with shadows and pain.
Every time he told me he loved me, I believed it a little more.
And just when I was realizing that I would be happy to spend the rest of my life with this man by my side, I was going to lose him.
I shook myself free of the cluttering thoughts. One thing remained certain: I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
It took most of my remaining strength to pump water into the sink and splash it on my face. Then it was time to stagger along the wall back to the living room to change into dry clothes, then back to Penny’s room.
I crawled into the bed to tuck myself in beside him and brushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead. Propped up on one elbow, I watched the rise and fall of his chest and considered what I would do if it stopped again.
I monitored him for hours, fighting sleep and tears that never seemed to stop.
As the world outside the window brightened with the dawn, I had no choice but to give up my vigil when the need for sleep overwhelmed me.
I curled close, resting my head on Penny’s chest so I could hear his heart beating and the air creaking into his lungs.
My mind wandered back to the makeshift deed to his farm, still on the table in the living room. To the family Penny wanted to share with me. To the life I always wanted, but never thought I could have.
As I slipped into unconsciousness, I knew that I’d give it all up if I could just have Penny.