The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Norwalk, Connecticut

Ben sat next to Noah's bedside, afraid to leave him. The doctors had mixed feelings about his odds of surviving his injuries. Some were hopeful, saying that he would recover if they just gave his body time, gave him plenty of bedrest. Others said that he was past the point of help, and that all they could do was ease his passing. All of them seemed to agree that it was in the hands of God, either way.

Ben hadn't left Noah's bedside since they got back to camp. And he wasn't planning on leaving. Noah was unresponsive most of the time. When he was awake, Ben would talk to him, sometimes read to him. If he seemed like he was in a lot of pain, he squeezed his hand, and he would squeeze back when he had the strength. No matter what, though, he stayed with him. He took his meals there, was rarely gone very long when he needed to use the bathroom. And, he slept there. On the rare occasion he managed to fall asleep.

But, after a day or two, despite every hope he had, he was starting to think that those pessimistic doctors were right. He didn't have much time left on that Earth.

"Noah, I think it's time to bring Ophelia here," Ben said on the second day, after one of the camp followers finished helping Noah eat.

"No," Noah said, again. "No."

"Noah-"

"They can't see me like this," Noah said. It was the same reasoning he had every time Ben prodded, trying to get him to change his mind. And he hadn't changed his mind, yet.

It was frustrating. Ben felt like he was running around in circles with Noah. With this subject. He knew that Noah would want to see his wife and daughter one more time before he passed, but he still seemed so obstinate about it. It was as if he didn't realize that he was dying.

Didn't realize he was dying...

"You're dying, Noah," Ben finally said. "You're dying, and I know that Ophelia and Constance would want to see you one last time. You can't deny them that."

Noah didn't say anything for a second. "My mother died. When I was about Constance's age. I don't remember much of her. All I remember is her on her deathbed. I don't want that for her. I want her to remember me. In life."

Ben didn't know what to say to that. He understood. He didn't like it, didn't agree with it, but he understood.

It was right about then that Caleb came into the tent. He was smiling. "Hey, Noah! How you feeling?"

Noah managed to smile. Painfully. "I've... been better."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be better, soon." Caleb looked to Ben. "Hope you don't mind, but I've gotta steal the Major, here."

Noah nodded, then began to have a coughing fit. God, it sounded awful, and for a moment, Ben wondered if that would be it, if he'd stop being able to breathe right then and there. But, eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh.

"We'll be just outside," Ben said. "Call out if you need me."

Noah nodded as he wheezed, trying to recover from his latest coughing fit.

Ben and Caleb walked out of the tent.

"Good, God, Ben: he's not looking well," Caleb said.

"I know," Ben said quietly. He didn't want Noah to hear that conversation. "The doctors don't think he'll last much longer."

Caleb cursed under his breath. "I hate to say it, Ben, but... I think they might be right."

"I know, he repeated. "I'm starting to think the same thing.

They were quiet for a few seconds. A moment of silence before their childhood friend was even dead.

"I need you to do something for me. For him."