Monachopsis

Chapter XXXII: Pneumonia Seizing

Sam was still laughing when we got back to the motel. I--on the other hand--had been feeling progressively worse. The cough had graduated to a rattling wheeze. I hoped my whistling lungs were subtle enough to not attract attention.

Sam slammed his door shut, guffawing. "'I was sleeping with my peepers open'."

Dean huffed, pride still bruised. "I almost smoked that old gal, I swear. It's not funny."

I chuckled, not daring to do more in case I trigger another attack.

Sam laughed harder as he put the key in the door. "Oh, man. You should've seen your face, Dean!"

"Oh, yeah, laugh it on, man. We're back to square one." Dean continued to sulk as I dug into my pocket for my room key. I needed to take my medication if I wanted to avoid getting any worse.

"Hang on." I looked up just in time to watch Dean move toward the main office. His eyes were fixed on the young boy seated on a bench just outside the door, head down. I recognized him as the boy who'd spoken to Dean at the front desk the other night. Sam and I followed close behind.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean asked the boy, crouching down to his level. The softness in his voice surprised me. I had never heard him speak that softly before.

The boy looked at him. "My brother's sick."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but Dean asked, "The little guy?"

The boy nodded. "Pneumonia."

My stomach dropped.

The boy continued. "He's in the hospital. It's my fault."

Dean shook his head. "No, come on. How?"

The boy sniffled. "I should have made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window was latched."

Dean looked over his shoulder at us. I pressed my lips together, eyebrows furrowed. This thing wasn't slowing down. How close it had been to our rooms sent a chill down my spine.

Dean turned back to the boy, and this time when he spoke, his voice was firmer. "Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault, okay?"

The boy met his eyes. "It's my job to look after him."

My throat tightened. The poor kid was close to tears. Behind him, the office door opened, and a woman stepped out. Her arms were filled with rolled up blankets and pillows. She shut the door behind her, then called to the boy. "Michael."

Michael rose from the bench and followed her to the dark blue van parked outside the office. She talked to him as she loaded the blankets into the back seat. "I want you to turn on the 'No Vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms."

"I'm going with you," Michael insisted.

The woman snapped, "Not now, Michael."

"But I got to see Asher!" Michael protested.

"Hey, Michael," Dean said. Michael turned to him. "Hey, I know how you feel, alright, I'm a big brother, too." He waved vaguely to me and Sam. Despite the stones in the pit of my stomach, my heart fluttered. "But you got to go easy on your mom right now, okay?"

Michael's mother slammed the van door shut, dropping her purse in the process. "Damn it!" she cried.

"I got it," Sam said, hurriedly scooping up the bag.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're in no condition to drive," I said, stepping forward. "Why don't you let me drive you to the hospital?"

"No, I couldnt possibly--" she tried to refuse.

"It's no trouble," I assured her. "Honest."

"No, I'll do it," Dean said. "You stay here."

"I'm fine, Dean--"

"No, Gray, you're not," he snapped, whirling on me. "You're immune system is shot, and you're getting sicker by the hour. What you need to do is go inside, take your meds, and sit this one out."

"I can manage a little drive to the hospital," I protested. I tried to push past him, but he wasn't having it.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're not going near that place again," Dean said, towering over me like that would convince me to stay. If anything, it just made me more angry. Before I could rip into him, he cut me off. "Go inside, Gray. Get some rest; you think I can't hear you wheezing? You sound like a damn chain-smoker! Take your meds. I'm not asking."

Anger boiled in my chest, but as I stared Dean down, I knew he wasn't budging on this. The look in his eyes told me that there was no negotiation. And I knew he was right. It was bad enough my immune system was screwed up. Being around sick people in the hospital definitely didn't make it better. My argument with Dean had risen my heart rate. Already, I was struggling to breathe. Air rattled in and out of my lungs.

But just because I knew it didn't mean I had to like it.

Dean didn't wait for me to agree. Instead he approached Michael's mother and took her car keys. Sam grabbed me around the shoulders and steered me toward the bench Michael had been sitting on.

"Hey, take it easy," he said lowly as he sat me down. "Deep breaths. Don't strain yourself."

I was too light-headed to do anything but nod. Michael's mother thanked Dean, then kissed Michael on the head. She murmured to him, then climbed into the passenger seat. Dean shut the door behind her, then turned to Sam, expression close to furious. He glanced at me before he spoke. His voice was low, but I was close enough to hear what he said over the rattling in my lungs.

"We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead. You hear me?"