Deadly Double Love

Deadly Double Love 39

“What is that?” I asked. “Is it bad?”

Scott looked at me sadly, but didn’t reply.

“No,” I said. “It can’t be that bad.”

But I knew that it was that bad.

“Is he going to die?” I asked quietly.

“It’s possible,” he admitted.

I swallowed the lump growing in my throat.

“But he won’t if we can get him to a doctor,” Scott said.

“Rory will never take him,” I told him.

“We’ll have to convince him,” Scott said.

“How?” I asked.

“We’ll find a way,” Scott promised.

I bit my lip, not convinced.

“We will,” Scott said.

I reached over and took my dad’s hand.

Over the next few hours, he continued to spasm uncontrollably. I held his hand tightly, praying that Rory would arrive soon. My eyes darted to the door every time I heard a noise, but Rory didn’t come.

And then, finally, he came through the door.

“Rory!” I cried. “My dad’s getting worse.”

“It’s just the flu,” Rory said.

“No!” I told him. “It’s tetanus.”

“It’s not tetanus,” Rory said, thinking I was lying. “You just want me to take him to the doctor’s so he can save you.”

“No,” I said. “I want you to take him to the doctor so he can live!”

“It isn’t tetanus,” Rory told me. “You’re making it up.”

“All of his symptoms fit!” Scott said, finally speaking up. “Lockjaw, neck and back stiffness, fever, and muscle spasms.”

Rory was silent.

“If you don’t take him to the doctor, he is going to die,” Scott told him.

“I can’t,” Rory said. “I’m sorry.”

And then he started to walk away.

“You can’t just leave him here to die!” I cried.

“I have to,” Rory said.

“No!” I shouted.

“If I take him, he’ll tell people what I’ve done,” Rory said. “I’ll go to jail.”

“He won’t tell!” I said.

“Yes he will,” Rory told me. “And I can’t go to jail.”

And then he dashed out the door.

“Please!” I yelled. “Please!”

I shouted after Rory long after he left, even when I knew he couldn’t hear me anymore. I screamed until my throat went raw and I couldn’t scream anymore.

I slouched down and pressed my palms into the dirt floor. The evil dirt floor that had given my dad this terrible disease.

“He’s wheezing,” Scott said suddenly.

“What does that mean?” I asked, turning to face him.

“He’s having trouble breathing,” Scott told me.

“How long does he have?” I whispered.

“Hours,” Scott said softly.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying. I made my way over to them and Scott moved away to give my dad and me some space.

“I’m sorry, dad,” I said.

He looked at me with pain in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” I said, choking on my words.

“Don’t say that,” he struggled to say. “I love you, Kitty.”

“I love you too, daddy.” My chin wobbled, but I refused to cry.

I held his hand tightly for a long time. I didn’t know what else I could do. I sat there silently until my eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“You should get some sleep,” Scott said from behind me.

“No,” I protested. “I have to stay awake.”

But Scott didn’t listen as he took hold of my shoulders and gently layed me down. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes and fell asleep within seconds.