My body ached from throwing up. Two or so hours later and I was back at it again. I was given medicine during the interval, and I hoped it settled in my system before my stomach betrayed me. Georganne stayed with me while the boys downstairs waited futilely for me to recover. Their voices were muffled by the distance, and I didn't bother to listen.
My skin burned despite the racking shivers. The sandpaper in my throat had duplicated, scratching something fierce every time I breathed. If my nose hadn't been suffocating enough it would have been an inviting trade. The spinning had fortunately stopped and I graciously sat up on my own. When I gained an ounce of energy, I thought of how this could have happened.
Surely this isn't your average flu. And I woke up just fine this morning. Or had I eaten something that didn't agree with me? But why would it take that long to reach and destroy my system? The last thing I could remember eating was tacos we made at the house... Everything else that day I couldn't recall in the slightest.
"How you feelin'?" Georganne knelt beside me and brushed the hair out of my face. I kept my head over the toilet so I couldn't see her. "It's been three hours, maybe you're okay to leave?" I craned my neck to look at her. I heard her voice talking, but her mouth was closed. Her face was stoic and her free hand was clenched into a fist. "Hannah? Are you okay?" I blinked at her. Her closed lips slowly formed a smile, one of malicious intent. Her eyes changed color-more like shades. They grew darker every minute. The fear was too much and my skin grew hot again.
"Stay here, I'm getting help." The woman left the girl in the bathroom as she ran downstairs. Angus looked up at her and rubbed his hands together.
"She doin' okay?" Georganne shook her head.
"I don't know, she's unresponsive." Angus sighed and paced the room. "We've got to get her to a doctor."
"She needs a hospital. An' the closest one is in the fuckin' other side of the country," Malcolm said.
"We can't go to London now," Cliff said. "I mean-what if this is fatal?" Angus put his hands on his face. Malcolm glared at him.
"Course it's not. She'll pull through. But we can't help her jus' by standin' around, we gotta help." Angus put his hands down and headed upstairs. Upon reaching the bathroom his heart dropped.
Hannah lay motionless on the floor. The sickness had taken her again in its palm. There was no way out. Even after the vomiting had stopped, her erratic breathing hadn't. As gruesome as it was to watch, it was the only notice they had that she was still alive.
He picked up the lifeless girl and cradled her. Whether this was his fault or not didn't matter anymore. All he wanted was her better. Healthy and happy again.
He wasted no time going back down the stairs. "We ain't got no fuckin' car," he said. "The one we get comes at five for the airport!"
"There's been a change of plans now, hasn't there?" Malcolm asked approaching him. He examined Hannah. "This ain't good."
"I can fuckin' see that!" Angus yelled. Malcolm held his hands up in defense.
"Hey now, okay! We gotta call a car here and then we'll-"
"We can't fuckin' wait that long! I can't wait that long!"
"Angus! Arguin' about it's takin' more time than we got an' you know that so you better damn well stop." Phil stood up for the phone to call a car. "We're gonna get her help, I know she don't look-"
"Well ain't that a fuckin' miracle," Phil said slamming the phone on the hook. "Phone doesn't work."
"Great," Malcolm muttered. Angus looked down at Hannah. She was pale and her eyes were darkened underneath like charcoal. Her nose seemed to have cleared up as she was breathing through it, albeit rapidly. "If we get a doctor, what do we tell him? Hmm? I mean, had she eaten somethin' edgy or is she just not right in her body?"
Angus closed his eyes. "We gotta wait for a car for an airplane to London, then find a doctor?" Brian asked. "You're shittin' me. An' we have no phone to top it all off."
"I'd let her sleep but her breath-her breathin' ain't too right, Mal," Angus said softly. Malcolm sighed. This hurt him more than he knew how.
"What time is it?" he whispered.
"Three twenty," Phil answered.
"Fuck." Malcolm crossed his arms and turned his back. She needed a doctor now, waiting was hardly an option. A horrible thought came to his mind. What if this was her way of leaving? What if dying here was how she got back home? Or worse. She dies here and doesn't exist in the future. Never seeing her family again. Malcolm still wasn't too sure about how all this time travel worked and it stressed him out to think about it.
"If all we can do is wait, then we need to be on high alert," Brian said. "Get water in her body, keep her cooled, and get her medicine."
"Give her to me, I'll put her to bed." Georganne took Hannah from a reluctant Angus and made the long trip upstairs. Cliff had gotten a glass of water and followed her. What started off a terrific morning had met its early demise. And if time ran out, so would Hannah.
