Page 86 of Bones
Mac’s hand gripped my wrist and I startled. “You know you’re one of us right?”
“I know. It’s ok, Mac?—”
“No.” He squeezed my wrist. “Listen. You’re part of my crew, my family. We take care of each other.”
“I know?—”
“I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you again.” His voice was raspy and I couldn’t tell if it was from emotion or the fever. His intense eyes held mine.
I wanted to tell him to not say shit like that, to not make promises he couldn't keep, but instead, I just forced a slight smile. "I know. I believe you."
That seemed to settle him and he relaxed. I continued healing, and after a few minutes he seemed to doze off and his hand fell from my wrist. I let out a relieved breath, my head spinning and not just from healing. I wasn’t sure what to think of that entire conversation. Thankfully Mac stayed asleep because it took almost an hour before that spot began to shrink.
“Bones?” I heard Griz calling from the front room.
“Back here,” I answered.
Griz strode in, stopping at my shoulder. I glanced at Mac’s face to see his eyes were open again and looking a lot clearer.
“How you feelin’?” Griz asked Mac.
“Been better,” Mac mumbled.
“Feels like getting kicked by a horse, don’t it?” Griz said.
“You weren’t jokin’.” Mac closed his eyes again.
I finally managed to smother the sickness and the relief made me dizzy. I held onto the bed for support as I stood. My legs trembled under my weight.
“You ok, Bones?” Griz asked, taking my elbow.
I let myself lean into him, and he wrapped his arm around my waist to support me better. “I can do a few more.”
“Alright,” he replied.
“Bones?”
I stopped and looked down at Mac when he said my name. His face was still pale, but to my relief, his eyes were sharp again.
"Thank you." His voice was gruff but sincere.
I nodded, wondering if he recalled anything he’d said and half hoping he didn’t. “Get some rest.”
13
The entire hold got sick except for me, but I'd never been sick that I could remember, not from normal illnesses anyway. The burnout fever didn't seem like it counted. Two months of absolute hell passed, but finally, the sickness receded. About a dozen older people and a handful of others died before I reached them, but it would have been a hell of a lot more if I hadn't pushed myself to the brink of burnout every single moment. If I hadn't brought the kids into the clinic, most of them probably would have died alone in the snow.
“C’mon, Shortcake,” Sam said as I leaned on the wall for a moment, trying to get the room to stop spinning, “time to go back.”
“Just one more,” I argued, wiping my sweaty face with my sleeve. “I can do one more.”
“Bones,” Trey warned, “you’re done.”
“I gotta keep on top of it,” I snapped. “It’s startin’ to let up, but if I relax now, it might surge again.”
"There's a huge fucking difference between relaxin' and laying down for a couple hours before you pass out," Sam challenged, looking as exhausted as I felt.
The woman and her five small children huddled in their bed of blankets on the floor and watched us argue. All six of them had been ill, but I’d healed them all.
