Vanguard (14 page)

After a while, Michael became restless and started moaning. She waved at the nurse, who came over to check his monitors.

“His fever is just below 104 degrees, and it’s making him restless. He may make some noise or call out. I’ll stay with him if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, that’s okay,” Sophie said. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s shouted at me,” she mumbled when Kathy had stepped out of earshot. She must have drifted off to sleep for a few minutes because Michael’s scream startled her out of her wits. She leaped out of her chair and onto the edge of his bed in seconds.

He thrashed around, settled into an uneasy sleep, then worked his way back up to another shriek. He tried to put his arms up over his face, like he was protecting himself against a beating, and her heart broke a little to see that. Without another thought, she ripped off her gloves and caught his hands, desperate for contact with him.

“
Nē, nē
,” She shook her head, feeling the heat of his fingers against her skin. “You are all right. I am here, beloved.” When he settled down, she took the cloth again to wipe his forehead. As she put her hand behind his neck to support his head, she realized his head wasn’t wrapped – instead, hair had been shaved off.

They had been in the refugee camp for nearly two weeks, and in that time she had seen some of the most heartbreaking human conditions she’d ever witnessed, Darfur included. She’d won Michael’s life away from a madman and come within a hair of having a very makeshift tattoo cut into her forehead.

But seeing Michael for the first time without his black curls, that made her cry. Tears ran silently down her cheeks and dripped on the bedclothes for a long time.

He was still the handsomest man in the world to her.

~~ - ~~

The nurse sent her back to bed three times over the course of the night. All three times, Sophie returned to Michael’s bedside at the first sound of distress from him. The third time, the nurse sighed and let her go. Sophie didn’t notice her leaving the room.

“He’s not going to get better any faster that way.” She jumped at the sound of Anjali’s voice in the doorway.

“It makes me feel better,” she snapped.

Anjali looked down at their linked hands. “Where are your gloves?” Sophie pointed to the floor. “Idiot. Well, at least you kept your mask on. That’s something. Come on, you can’t be sitting here in front of him if he wakes up. I’ve had to shock him twice already, and I don’t want to do it again.”

Sophie looked at her in horror. “What do you mean, shock him twice?”

“He went into v-tach,” Anjali yawned. “Took two shocks to get him out. He lost a bunch of chest hair when I took the pads off. Bet he’ll be glad he was unconscious for that, huh?”

Sophie’s head swam at the thought of Michael’s heart failing, and she nearly toppled off the bed.

Anjali stepped quickly over to steady her friend. “Come on, you need to rest. Don’t make me restrain you.”

Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers away from Michael’s and followed Anjali back to bed, still dragging the IV pole. “Can you at least take the IV out?” Anjali consulted the chart, then removed the needle.

“Thank you.” Sophie stifled a yawn.

Anjali led the younger woman back to bed and tucked her in like a child. “Stay in bed this time.” Her voice was firm, but her expression tender. “He’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Sophie considered rebelling as soon as Anjali left the room, but exhaustion overwhelmed her. She fell back to sleep.

~~ - ~~

He was cold. He’d been cold for so long that he didn’t think he could ever be warm again.

Consciousness filtered in slowly. He could feel something soft under him, a sensation he had not felt for months. He heard noises. Beeping sounds. Light shone somewhere nearby.

He’d been dreaming of Sophie. It had been so real. He opened his eyes.

Hospital.

His body hurt. Every joint felt like it had been pulled from its socket. Breathing was agony.

Sophie was here, in this room. He knew it. He had to see her for himself.

He sat up and moved his legs over the side of the bed. He stared uncomprehendingly at the tubes running over his body. One by one, he pulled them out, his fingers moving expertly over the machines beside the bed to stop the alarms from sounding.

A chair sat at his bedside, and he used it to drag himself upright. He huddled there for a few minutes, the room whirling. Then he shuffled to the curtain and peeked out. A woman stood in a doorway with her back to him, talking to someone outside his view. Not Sophie.

I am a doctor.
This thought presented itself to him from the hazy recesses of his mind. He pondered it for a moment before it went away.

He saw another bed beside him, also curtained. He took half a dozen wobbly steps to reach it.
Why is it hard to walk?
He looked down at his feet and saw they were bandaged. He did not know why.

He looked back up, trying to remember why he was standing here.
Sophie.
He pawed at the curtain.

She lay asleep in a hospital bed, red hair spread across the pillow. He could see a bandage on her forehead. She looked a dozen years older than the last time he’d seen her. And so, so tired.

He couldn’t understand why or how she was here. He didn’t even know where he was.

A few more steps, and his legs gave out. He slumped to the floor beside her bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest, teeth chattering violently. He didn’t want to move, wasn’t sure if he could. The pain in his chest was excruciating. He just wanted to keep looking at her.

He felt hands on his shoulders behind him, and someone spoke in a language he didn’t understand. Sophie’s eyes flew open, and she bolted upright in bed. Her eyes met his.

The language was English, he recalled. The person kept calling him something …
Dr. Nariovsky-Trent
. He vaguely realized that was his name.

He kept staring at Sophie, his body shaking from top to bottom. His chest began hitching, making it hurt even more. Something huge was trying to climb out of him, up through his chest and throat.

She lurched forward out of her bed. With the last of his strength, he reached up to her. He felt her arms wrap around him, and she lifted him. The other person vanished. The hospital vanished. The whole world vanished. Except for her.

She was real. And for the first time in nearly six months, he was warm again.

~~ - ~~

Michael plastered himself against her. His face burrowed down into the crook of her neck under her hair. He wrapped one arm around her ribs and slammed her tight against him. She could feel every line of his body, skeletal in its thinness.

One of his knees pushed between hers, coming to rest between her thighs. His other leg wrapped around her calf until their feet intertwined. One hand pressed into her back with shocking strength, and the other buried itself in her hair. His chest heaved with sobs and coughs, but his dehydrated body could produce no tears.

Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck and put her lips beside his ear, trying to soothe him, telling him over and over in Orlisian that he was safe. She didn’t know if he could hear her. Certainly he didn’t look at her or attempt to communicate.

A moment later, Anjali and Kathy appeared at her bedside. Anjali took a hypodermic from the nurse and lifted Michael’s hospital gown. Kathy held Michael’s thigh reasonably steady while Anjali jabbed him with the needle.

Slowly, the frenzy subsided. Sophie rocked him in her arms, crooning as the sobs tapered off. He slipped back into unconsciousness, his hands still clutching her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she breathed in Orlisian. “I’m here. I won’t leave. We’re together now.”

~~ - ~~

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I ordered bed rest.” Anjali surveyed the pretzel of limbs on the bed in front of her. She handed the empty syringe to Kathy beside her, thanking her for the assist. The nurse stepped away and left them alone. “Now you understand why we had to keep him from seeing you in the camp.”

The rattling sobs tapered off as the sedative kicked in and Michael lost consciousness. Even under sedation, his fingers dug into Sophie’s shirt, like he was terrified she would vanish if he loosened his grip.

“He’s under now. Come on out. We need to get him hooked back up to his meds.”

She wiggled out of Michael’s grasp. Her shirt was covered in snot, and Anjali sighed.

“I want you on intravenous antibiotics. You’ve just had a ridiculous amount of exposure.”

Kathy handed Sophie a fresh shirt. Together, they moved Michael back to his bed.

“He pulled everything out.” Anjali held up the urinary catheter in disbelief. Kathy and Anjali rethreaded the lines and connected the monitors back up. “His temp is down to about 103. Definitely moving in the right direction. We’re going to need a lot more of both of these meds. I’ll get Meha on that when she gets up. We’ve got a camp to medicate.”

She turned back to Sophie to order her back to bed, but she had vanished. Anjali did a quick spin in a circle. No Sophie. Kathy gestured back to the other bed where Sophie lay, already asleep. Anjali smiled and shook her head.

“Maybe now they’ll both stay in their own beds.”

Chapter 9

February 12, 2014

Sophie woke when the sun rose, exhausted, disoriented, and suffering from a pounding headache. None of which mattered when she rolled over in bed and saw Michael’s sleeping form just a few feet away. She climbed out of her bed and padded over to his.

“Good morning, Mikael.” She softly touched the side of his face. “You are safe. I am here.” The last thing she wanted to do was leave him – even for an hour – but she had work to do before the coalition departed for Parnaas for the day. She would not be joining them, not today, not ever again.

“Sophie?” She looked up to see the nurse from last night, Kathy, watching her with curious eyes. “Dr. Shah has prescribed IV antibiotics for you.”

“Which you can administer later,” Sophie replied. “I have work to do first.” She stepped into the hallway and found her two Soviet soldiers standing near the door. They looked about as well rested as she felt. Both regarded her with caution. She broke the watchful silence.

“Let us talk.”

~~ - ~~

When she returned to the infirmary after briefing the Rev on how to handle the Commandant, Anjali was waiting for her.

“That had better not be your whole breakfast,” the doctor said, gesturing to the half-eaten protein bar in Sophie’s hand. “And what are we going to do with those two?” Anjali jerked her thumb at the guards sitting outside the infirmary.

“They’re going to hang out here today. They promise not to bring the guns anywhere near you or Michael, and they’ll smoke outside. I’ve told them to help themselves to food. The kid with the dark hair is Sevastian, and the blond one is Sergei. They’re terrified of you, so take it easy on them.”

“These guys work for Der Kommissar himself. Aren’t they a security risk?”

“Not in my opinion.” Sophie sat down and opened her laptop. “If anyone is concerned, just send them around. I’ll talk to them.”

Anjali stared at her in astonishment, then shook her head and called for a nurse to hook Sophie up to an intravenous line to receive her meds. “Fine,” the doctor said. “But tell them if either of them puts a toe out of line, I’ll carve something on
their
foreheads.”

~~ - ~~

The Rev and the medical team headed into Parnaas at first light to start administering the antibiotics to the pneumonia cases. Sophie had given the Rev a number of suggestions on how he could play up the discovery of their “illicit” vaccine with the Commandant. They needed time, time to get Vanguard well enough to travel, time to figure out how to get him to freedom. Anjali stayed behind to scrounge more supplies and keep an eye on Michael.

Sophie worked on her computer in the infirmary until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She lay back in her hospital bed wishing she could remove the annoying IV.
Just a quick nap
…

After what felt like two minutes of sleep, she awoke to the sound of people trying and failing to be quiet. She attempted to roll over to find the source of the noise, but couldn’t move. Something very hot and heavy held her in place.

“Sorry, Sophie,” Anjali’s voice sounded above her. “Just bear with us for a minute here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Michael is what’s going on. He’s gotten into bed with you.” She reached behind her. Michael, shivering with fever, had crawled into bed with her and spooned against her back, one thin arm clamped around her body with surprising strength. It took her several minutes to wiggle free, and several more with Anjali and one of the nurses to get him back to his own bed and reconnected to his lines. They opened the curtains between the two beds, hoping that visual reassurance would be enough if he awoke again.