“Sophie, wait.” She turned yet again, her eyebrow raised. “Where are we?”
“We’re in the Soviet Republic, just south of the Orlisian border,” she said softly. “At the base camp of an aid agency coalition. You are safe here.”
Sophie heard him begin to cough as she raced down the hallway to see which of the medical team had stayed back from the camp. By the time she’d returned with Kathy, Michael had lapsed back into unconsciousness.
“Fever’s way down.” Kathy made a note on the chart. “And it sounds like he was much more lucid during this period of wakefulness.” She checked Michael’s lines one more time to ensure they were secure. “Come get me if he wakes up again in the same state. Sounds like things are about to get really interesting around here.”
February 16, 2014
Michael woke again three or four times in the next thirty-six hours. Each time, his periods of lucidity grew longer. In the early morning, Sophie was taking advantage of the pre-dawn quiet to get some work done at the nurse’s station when a thin whisper broke the quiet.
“Sophie?”
“I am here, Mikael.” She continued in his native tongue. “We are in the Soviet Republic. At an aid agency coalition base. You are safe.” She said it automatically, having reassured him with these words dozens of times since he had started regaining consciousness.
“I am hungry.”
She put the computer aside and walked to his bedside. He looked up at her with dawning awareness. “Why are you here?”
“Let me see who’s available from the medical staff, and see if you can have something to eat.” Sophie didn’t answer his question. She returned a few minutes later with Raj Patel, then retreated to the nurse’s chair.
“Dr. Nariovsky-Trent? I’m Dr. Raj Patel. It’s a pleasure to see you looking so much better.” Raj began his examination, explaining about the pneumonia and his overall condition. Michael looked resigned at the news that he’d probably need to have a few toes amputated in several months’ time.
“May I eat?” he asked when Raj finished.
“Liquids only for now. I’ll have someone bring you a tray. We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow or the next day. Anything else we can get for you?”
“A set of scrubs,” Michael said. “And a shower.”
Raj looked doubtful. “Sponge bath is a better choice.”
Sophie could see the fury that crossed Michael’s features at this undignified suggestion. She chuckled as Raj took a startled step back in the face of his suddenly wrathful patient.
“I’ll keep an eye on him while he showers, Raj.” Dr. Patel turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s not what I meant.” She silently cursed the blush rising to her cheeks. “And get him a toothbrush too, would you?”
“Er…sure.” Raj left to track down food and essentials for Michael, and the two of them sat in awkward silence.
“Mana mila,” Michael finally said, “what are you doing here?”
“I am the leader of an international coalition of aid agencies, providing assistance to the refugees in Parnaas.” He seemed surprised. “What?” She could feel her irritation rising. “Surely you know what I do for a living by now.”
He didn’t respond, and Raj returned to the room. Michael made a face at the red gelatin and broth, but he ate everything with good appetite.
“Out, Sophie.” Raj pulled the curtain. A few minutes later, Michael’s IV was capped, his catheter out, and he was sitting sulkily in a wheelchair. “Don’t worry about the bandages on his feet; we’ll deal with those later,” said the doctor. They walked down the hall to the showers, Raj updating her along the way about their efforts the previous day to persuade some of the more suspicious refugees that the medications they were distributing weren’t harmful.
They arrived at the showers. Raj dragged a chair into the stall, looked doubtfully at Michael, and vanished.
Better take control of this situation. Sophie went into command mode.
“I’ll start your shower, then you go in there. Sit, don’t stand.” She pointed at the shower stall and chair. “Take off your gown and throw it over the curtain to me. I’ll hand you your towel and scrubs when you’re done. Okay?” He nodded. “Talk to me while you’re in there so I know you’re still alive.”
Two minutes later, she threw Michael’s hospital gown into the laundry. Steam billowed out of the stall, and the noise of the splashing water couldn’t cover his sigh of pleasure. She had to smile.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a hot shower?”
“Oh God, I cannot remember,” he groaned. “Weeks, maybe? We washed with cold water in a bucket when we could. Most of the time, we went without.” He let out a startled gasp, followed by silence.
“Are you okay? Michael?” She flew to the curtain in a heartbeat.
“My hair is gone.”
“Anjali had to shave it off. You had lice.” More silence.