Imported Love

Chapter Thirteen

“I love you, Erica, and that’s all the counts.”

The world tilted and twisted beneath my feet as I tried to make my way into the dining room. I could vaguely see Abel and Ethan seated at the table. They were both watching me, a concerned and confused expression on their faces. I reached out for my chair to steady myself, but my hand came up empty. I slipped to my knees, clutching my stomach and groaning.

“Erica, what’s wrong?” a voice demanded. I couldn’t distinguish who it was, but they swept me up into their arms. They moved too quickly out of the room, making my stomach lurch.

Feet pounded up the stairs as the person carried me. Voices shouted, but their words mixed together and I couldn’t tell who was speaking. Everything seemed to be melting together, forming a horrible collage of the world around me.

“Erica,” I heard in my ear. I knew that voice. I would know it anywhere. “Remember what counts,”

And then the voice was gone and I was slipping into darkness.

****

Voices were all around me, whispering and hushed. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength. Every fiber of my being ached and screamed in agony. I wanted to cry, to show them I was in pain, but I couldn’t. I felt as if I was trapped inside of my own body.

“She has a dangerously high fever,” a nasally voice said, close to me. “We’re doing our best to keep it down.”

A weight pressed down upon my chest.

“See,” the nasally voice demanded, “she didn’t even react. The ice isn’t helping.”

“What’s wrong with her?” A frantic voice pleaded.

“I’ve never seen this before,” the nasal man admitted. “Her fever is high, she’s unresponsive, she’s constantly getting sick all over herself, and she’s having seizure like convulsions.”

My heart sunk. I knew what he was describing. This man, probably a doctor, was talking about the plague. I had the disease that was killing people in the hundreds back home. I was going to die.

****

It was a horrible feeling, to be trapped inside of your own body. I could hear them talking, whispering, and worrying about me. I couldn’t assure them that I was there. I couldn’t tell them that I was cold or hot. I couldn’t communicate how hungry I was. All I could do was lay there.

****

I resolved to open my eyes. I concentrated as hard as I could. I only managed to open them a fraction of an inch, but Ethan noticed.

“Franny, she opened her eyes,” he shouted. His voice sounded horse and desperate. I could feel him leaning over me, smoothing my hair away from my face.