Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
HOLLY
I finish washing my hands after checking on Mrs. Whitesong’s arthritic knee, mentally calculating how many more patients I need to see before I can escape for lunch.
The morning has been busy but routine—exactly the kind of shift I need after the emotional rollercoaster of Christmas.
Three days have passed since our chase through the woods, and I’m still finding bruises in interesting places from Kai’s enthusiastic capture.
The silver pendant Noah gave me rests against my sternum, a constant reminder of what waits for me at home. Home. It’s strange how quickly Kai’s mansion has become that for me, when I’ve spent my entire life feeling like a visitor in my own spaces.
I exit the treatment room, making notes in the chart about Mrs. Whitesong’s new prescription, when Noah appears at the end of the hallway. His face is drawn, his movements sharp and urgent as he strides toward me.
“Holly,” he calls, his voice tight with something I can’t immediately identify. “I need you.”
My first thought is that maybe he wants to repeat our library encounter, but the set of his jaw tells me this is professional, not personal.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, closing the chart and giving him my full attention.
“Kai is here,” he says.
I laugh, the sound reflexive and hollow in the sterile hallway. “Let me guess, another fake injury to get attention?” I roll my eyes, remembering Kai’s dramatic performance with the “crushed” toe. “What is it this time? Sprained wrist from too much video gaming?”
Noah’s expression doesn’t change, and a cold feeling spreads through my chest.
“I don’t think so,” he says, his voice grave.
The smile dies on my face as I rise to follow him. “What happened?”
“He came in about twenty minutes ago. Grayson brought him. He’s in Treatment 3.”
I’m moving before he finishes speaking, my heart pounding against my ribs. Noah follows, his longer stride easily keeping pace with my near-run.
“What are his symptoms?” I ask, doctor mode kicking in to protect me from the panic threatening to overtake my thoughts.
“Fever, vomiting, abdominal pain,” Noah lists clinically. “He’s been deteriorating rapidly over the past few hours.”
I push open the door to Treatment 3 with more force than necessary.
The harsh fluorescent lighting reveals Kai sitting on the examination table, hunched over a bedpan.
His normally golden skin has a grayish cast, and his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat.
Grayson stands beside him, one hand on Kai’s back, his expression a mask of concern above his skull bandanna.
“Hey, Hollipop,” Kai manages weakly as I enter, attempting a smile that looks more like a grimace. “Sorry to interrupt your busy day of saving lives.”
The attempt at humor, so typical of Kai even in obvious distress, makes my throat tighten. I cross to him quickly, pulling on gloves from the dispenser on the wall.
“What’s going on?” I ask, pressing my hand to his forehead. His skin burns against my palm, confirming the fever Noah mentioned.
“Just feeling a little under the weather,” Kai says, then immediately contradicts himself by retching into the bedpan. Nothing comes up but bile, suggesting he’s been vomiting for some time.
I check his pulse—rapid and thready—and note the fine tremor in his hands. “How long have you been feeling sick?”
“Few days,” he admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thought it was just a bug. Got worse last night.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demand, unable to keep the accusation from my voice as I take his blood pressure. It’s lower than I’d like.
Kai attempts a shrug that turns into another shiver. “Didn’t want to worry anyone. You guys have been working hard.”
I exchange a look with Noah over Kai’s bent head. Typical Kai, hiding his own suffering to avoid inconveniencing others. For someone who projects such carefree confidence, he has a surprising aversion to being the center of attention.
“What symptoms besides the fever and vomiting?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain professional despite the worry gnawing at my insides.
“Headache. Dizzy. Stomach cramps.” He pauses, a flush that has nothing to do with fever creeping up his neck. “Some, uh, bathroom issues I’d rather not discuss in mixed company.”
“We’re doctors and part of your pack,” I remind him, my tone brooking no argument. “There’s nothing you can say that will shock us.”
Kai sighs. “Fine. Diarrhea. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” I reply dryly, continuing my examination. “Anything else? Joint pain? Rash? Changes in vision or hearing?”
“No rash. Joints ache, but I figured that was the fever.” He hesitates, then adds almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and everything tastes like I’m sucking on pennies. Weird, right?”
I freeze, my hand still on his wrist where I’m checking his pulse. Metallic taste. The same symptom the Frost twins reported before their condition deteriorated.
“Metallic taste?” I repeat, my voice sharper than I intend.
Kai nods, looking confused by my sudden intensity. “Yeah, started yesterday. Makes it hard to enjoy Grayson’s cooking, which is saying something because the man can barely boil water without setting off the smoke alarm.”
Grayson makes a sound that might be offense, but I barely register it. My mind is racing, connecting dots that have been floating disconnected for weeks.
“Noah,” I say, turning to face him. “We need to test his blood for lead. Now.”
Noah’s expression sharpens, understanding immediately. “You think—“
“The same thing that’s affecting the children,” I confirm. “The metallic taste, the gastrointestinal symptoms, the neurological involvement. It fits.”
“But Kai isn’t a kid who might be tempted to eat paint chips or a mud pie,” Noah points out, already moving to the cabinet where we keep the testing supplies. “How would he get lead in his system.”
I think back to the fair. “Have you been drinking the bottled spring water, Kai?”
Kai nods, looking between us with growing concern. “Yeah, I always keep some around. It’s supposed to be good for you.”
“When did you last have some?” I press.
He grimaces. “This morning.”
Noah returns with the lead testing kit that the county health department loaned us after I raised concerns about the children’s symptoms. It’s a point-of-care device that requires only a fingerstick of blood and provides results in minutes—technology that would have been unthinkable when I started medical school.
“We’re going to check your blood for lead,” I explain to Kai, taking the kit from Noah. “It’s a simple test, just a quick fingerstick.”
“Lead?” Kai repeats, his eyes widening. “Like from pencils?”
“Pencils use graphite, not lead,” I correct automatically, prepping his finger with an alcohol swab. “And no, not from pencils. Potentially from the spring water.”
“The water every kid in town drinks? Not to mention a decent number of adults?” Kai asks, wincing slightly as I prick his finger. “That water?”
“Yes,” I repeat grimly, collecting the drop of blood on the test strip. “That water.”
The room falls silent as we wait for the results, the only sounds are Kai’s labored breathing and the soft beep of the machine as it processes the sample.
I find myself holding my breath, hoping against hope that I’m wrong, that this is just a nasty flu and not confirmation of my worst fears about the town’s water supply.
The machine beeps again, and I look down at the display. My heart sinks.
“Positive,” I say, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Elevated blood lead levels.”
Noah curses under his breath, while Grayson’s hand tightens on Kai’s shoulder. Kai himself looks more confused than frightened.
“So...what does that mean?” he asks. “Am I going to die? Because I have plans this weekend.”
The attempt at humor falls flat, but I appreciate the effort. It’s so quintessentially Kai to try to lighten the mood even when he’s the one in danger.
“No, you’re not going to die,” I assure him, already mentally running through the treatment protocol. “Lead poisoning is serious, but treatable, especially when caught early. We’ll start chelation therapy to remove the lead from your bloodstream.”
“And then I’ll be good as new?” Kai asks hopefully.
“We caught this early, so you should be fine,” I try to assure him. “Heavy metals are more dangerous in kids because their brains are still developing.”
“Not a problem for Kai then,” Grayson gruffly murmurs. “His brain has been broken beyond repair for years.”
I open my mouth to chastise him, but Kai lets out a surprised guffaw that relives the tension on his face.
Grayson winks and I realize that he figured out quicker than I did that Kai is the type to want to laugh more than worry.
Noah steps up on Kai’s other side to start an IV. “You’ll be fine.”
Kai watches us with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
“This isn’t just about me, is it?” he asks quietly. “If the spring water is contaminated with lead...”
“Then the entire town could be at risk,” I finish for him. “Yes.”
“The children who’ve been sick,” he continues, piecing it together. “You think this might be why?”
I nod.
“Jesus,” Kai breathes, then winces as Noah inserts the IV needle into his arm. “What do we do?”
“Right now, we take care of you,” I say firmly. “Then we deal with the bigger picture.”
But even as I say it, my mind is racing ahead to the implications. If the spring water is contaminated, it means every resident of Heat Mountain who drinks it is at risk. It means the spring, a sacred site central to the town’s identity, is actively poisoning children.
It means we’re facing a public health crisis that could devastate this community.