“You must have some strong will-power if you can wait that long,” I teased.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with will-power,” he promised with so much conviction I tensed, waiting for what was to come. “It has everything to do with wanting something more than sex.”
“My love?” I whispered hardly able to voice the question.
“Your love,” he confirmed.
And then Page flopped over and puked next to us on the floor.
Nelson and I scrambled away so we weren’t hit with the splatter- not that there was much in her stomach after a full day of not eating. I crawled back over to her and rubbed her back while Nelson darted after a bowl or trash can.
Her poor, little body continued to heave and convulse as her angry stomach tried to empty itself of every last drop of food or liquid.
“Her fever’s too high,” I announced when Hendrix and Reagan rushed into the room. “We have to lower her temperature.”
Finally, she settled down and rolled onto her back. One of her arms draped over her eyes as if even the darkness of night was too bright for her. Tears streamed from both eyes and her breathing was fast and ragged.
I cleaned her up with a cool, bottled-water-made wet wash cloth and then pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head, so we wouldn’t have to worry about it if there was another episode like that. Then I pulled the blanket off her and her socks, jeans and long sleeved shirt. She shivered in a t-shirt and underwear but I didn’t know what else to do.
The expired Tylenol was not working and keeping her bundled up was only intensifying the fever. She had too cool down or she would continue to puke and whatever little good the medicine was doing, was worth it.
“Go wrap some ice in a washcloth and bring it back to me,” I ordered Hendrix who loomed over me like a predator getting ready to pounce on his prey. He turned around without another word and stalked off to the kitchen.
“I wish we could give her a cool bath,” Reagan sighed. She sunk down to her knees and picked up Page’s hand in her own. “We need to do something.”
When Page whipped over again, we had the bucket ready this time- although not much came out. Her stomach convulsed painfully, and tears streamed from her eyes, but still her body did not give up the effort to empty itself.
There were many terrible things about her puking, but the noise level was definitely on the top of the list. But it wasn’t like you could exactly tell someone to vomit quietly. And she wasn’t really in a state of mind where she would be able to listen anyway.
The rest of the brothers stumbled to the living room, clicking magazines into place and shoving their feet into pants and shoes. They were prepared to go to war, prepared to do whatever it took to save their little sister.
By the third round of vomiting, every Parker brother was armed with as many weapons as we had and standing guard at a window or door. Reagan and I played nurse over Page’s exhausted, fever-stricken body and prayed for the best.
Currently, her head was resting in my lap and her feet were sprawled across Reagan. She was sleeping- for now- and I was counting down the minutes until morning.
Zombies were still perfectly capable of attacking us with the light of day, but somehow the daylight made things feel possible. I held onto the hope that if Page could make it through the night, things would get easier.
A scuffling of feet and a door opening and then closing had me sitting at full alert. I was careful with Page’s lolling head, but I was desperate to know what was going on.
I heard Hendrix whisper shout, “Nelson!” and my entire body felt doused in ice water.
Fear like I had never known before prickled painfully against my skin and my heartbeat kicked into overdrive.
Reagan reached out and took my hand, squeezing it in hers tightly.
The door opened again and I heard Vaughan and Hendrix take off after their idiot brother. I couldn’t believe I was falling for someone that ran out into the middle of the night probably on a suicide mission! I was stupid to give my heart away when it could so easily be destroyed, right along with Nelson.
I waited, stressed and unmoving, for Nelson to return or something to give away what was happening outside- a shout, a gunshot, the unholy keening of Zombie’s on the attack. But there was nothing but silence and stillness.
My stomach was riotous with nerves and my brain ticked completely out of control. I couldn’t see anything sitting in the damn dark, so my brain just started going through a list of all the horrible things that could happen to Nelson or his brothers at a million miles a minute.
I went through about every, single scenario possible- all ending with Nelson dying a gruesome, painful death, until I finally settled on the fact that he was going to get bitten by a Zombie, but eventually fight his way free. He’d walk into the house expecting a hero’s welcome at which point I was going to have to shoot him. He was infected, I didn’t have a choice.