Only You by K.T. Quinn

48

Donovan

The Day Things Got Worse

Molly was able to drink chicken broth without throwing it back up, but that was about it. She stayed in bed, shivering and coughing. Her temperature was thirty-eight Celsius, just over a hundred Fahrenheit.

“I… just… need… to sleep,” she whispered after taking a few sips of Gatorade. “I’m so tired.”

Even just getting those words out drained the remains of her energy, and she quickly fell back asleep.

I began doing research on what to do. Hospitals were still close to capacity, so they would only take people who were in very bad shape. Despite her fever and coughing, she still had no trouble breathing. She was a borderline case.

For my own part, I was recovering. My sense of taste was still gone, but my temperature was totally normal. I even had some of my energy back, although I was still more tired than usual. Compared to how I was a few days ago, I called that a win.

Throughout the day I sat next to the bed and listened to Molly sleep. Was that a wheeze I heard? Or a rasp? I couldn’t be certain. It might have just been her arm moving under the covers.

Every few hours I made her sit up and drink something. “I had… a sexy dream… about you,” she mumbled during one such break.

“Is that so?” I asked.

She sipped warm broth and nodded. “It was sexy. You were there. So was your penis.”

“Me and my penis were there?” I asked. “Sounds like a party.”

Molly nodded softly. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery. “I was there too. So was my vagina. You were doing stuff to it.”

“Yeah?”

She handed me the bowl of broth and sighed back into the pillows. “It was nice. I’m going back there now. Bye bye.”

I stroked her hair and said, “Sweet dreams, Feisty.”

“Not… feisty… right now,” she mumbled as sleep took her.

I did everything that was recommended. I kept her hydrated and gave her aspirin. Her fever broke and she tossed the covers off, then slept on the bare bed. Hours later the fever returned and she was shivering again.

I tried feeding her toast and jam that night. That was a mistake. It stayed down for about twenty seconds before she scrambled to the bathroom.

The next day, her fever was the highest it had been: thirty-eight point nine. That was the equivalent of one hundred and two Fahrenheit.

“That’s it,” I said while looking up the emergency number. “You’re not getting better, Molly. It’s time to take you to the hospital.”

I dialed the number. When someone answered, I recited the words I had memorized from Google Translate: “Emergenza. Malata di virus.” Emergency. Sick with virus.

My accent must have been terrible, because I was transferred to someone who spoke English.

“Hello? What is emergency?” they asked in a thick accent.

“My… Girlfriend is sick,” I said. “She tested positive for the virus four days ago, and her symptoms are getting worse. She’s coughing non-stop, her breathing is getting raspy, and she has a fever of a hundred—I mean, a fever of thirty-nine Celsius.”

“What is your location?” she asked.

“We’re at the Residencia Al Gladiatore hotel. In the Piazza del Colosseo. Her name is Molly Carter. She should be in the testing registry.”

I heard typing on the other side. “Yes. Very good. She is able to walk, yes?”

I glanced at the bed. “The last time I fed her, she barely had enough strength to sit up in bed. Can you send an ambulance?”

“Yes, ambulance, of course,” she replied. “Ambulance can arrive… Nine o’clock.”

I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes from now? Perfect. I can bring her downstairs if…”

“No, no, no,” the operator replied. “Nine o’clock tonight.”

“What?”

“Very busy. Many sick.”

After confirming her information and hanging up, I paced around the room. Molly’s shivering was worse, and the aspirin wasn’t breaking the fever. Her coughs were rougher and rougher, too.

I filled a bucket from the ice machine, soaked washcloths in it, then placed them on Molly’s head. She seemed to relax more when I did that, so I swapped them out every ten minutes. The next time I took her temperature, the fever was a little bit lower.

But by noon her breathing was labored. I put my ear to her chest and listened. Her lungs made a crumpling sound with every breath, like a paper bag being rolled into a ball.

“I can’t let you sit here any longer,” I said to her. “You’re getting worse. I don’t know if we can wait until nine o’clock tonight, Molly.”

Her eyes fluttered behind her closed lids, but she didn’t respond otherwise. She hadn’t been responsive in hours.

I got dressed and tried helping Molly out of bed. She didn’t have enough strength to sit upright, and kept clinging to me while breathing heavily. There was no way she could walk on her own.

I pulled up a map on my phone. Celio Military Hospital, the one Molly had told me about when she took the test, was half a kilometer away. That was a long way to go with Molly, but I thought I could do it.

I had to. For her.

It took ten minutes to pull a pair of sweatpants and a fresh shirt onto Molly, and another five minutes to put her shoes on. Then I lifted her in my arms and carried her out of my room, down the hall, and into the elevator.

When I reached the lobby, I lowered Molly into a chair and paused to catch my breath. Even though I was feeling better than the other day, I still wasn’t at a hundred percent.

“Half a kilometer,” I said out loud. “No problem.”

I checked the map on my phone to orient myself, since I wouldn’t be able to check it when I was carrying Molly. Out the plaza, around to the right, then a straight shot down the road to the hospital.

Then I unlocked the front door and propped it open with a chair. I put a mask on Molly, then on myself. Finally I collected Molly in my arms, walked out the door, and kicked the chair behind me so the door would close.

Molly wrapped her arms around my neck while I walked. Despite how weak she was, and despite being barely conscious, she clung to me fiercely. Like she trusted me.

Like I’m her only hope, I thought.

The sun was high in the sky and the air was warm and pleasant. In another context, it would have been a gorgeous day. But while carrying Molly, the woman I was quickly falling in love with, I couldn’t enjoy the weather. All I felt was fear. Fear that I should have taken her to the hospital sooner. Fear that it might be too late.

I walked steadily, putting one foot in front of the other. Molly wasn’t very heavy, but even carrying groceries was tough when you had to walk half a kilometer. My legs grew heavier with every step. Soon it felt like I was wearing lead boots.

My thighs burned painfully by the time I reached a plaza filled with tan-colored tents. This must be the testing site Molly had mentioned, which meant the hospital was the building just beyond it.

I trudged along, holding her in my arms, until a nurse or volunteer or other testing person came jogging up to me.

“Virus,” I breathed. “Lei malata. She’s sick.”

She waved for another volunteer, a grey-haired woman with a pointed chin behind her face shield. “I speak English. How long has she been this way?”

“She had a fever and cough for several days. Today her breathing got bad. Can I take her to the hospital?” I nodded across the plaza.

The grey-haired woman shook her head. “Hospital full. Closed. No beds. She must go to Ospedale Britannico.”

“How far is that?”

She pointed. “Too far. I will call for an ambulance.”

I sat on a bench outside of what used to be a coffee shop, back when things were normal. The woman spoke with another volunteer. It looked like an argument. Finally the grey-haired woman threw up her hands and returned to me.

“An ambulance… It will take some time.”

“How long?”

She shrugged. “I am not sure. Many ahead in line.”

“What about a taxi? Or an Uber? Do you guys have Uber here?”

She winced. “Yes, for some. But if she is positive for virus…” She shook her head. “One moment. We have bed we can put her on.”

“A bed inside the hospital?” I asked. “Where she can get treatment?”

“A bed outside. In plaza. Until ambulance arrives. Wait here please. I will bring it.”

She went back to the tents.

I gazed down at Molly in my arms. She looked so pitiful and weak from this angle. Every breath she took came with a ghastly rasp. Like her soul was struggling to breathe.

Since we were sitting down, I shifted Molly in my lap and retrieved my phone. Ospedale Britannico was half a kilometer farther to the south-east. It was on the same road that was next to this plaza. All I had to do was follow it.

“I can’t wait for an ambulance, Molly,” I said. “I need to get you there sooner. Even if it kills me. Now’s your chance to tell me not to.”

She let out a little whimper and rested her head against my chest.

“Good. I wasn’t going to listen anyway.”

Standing back up took a lot more strength than I expected, and I damn near fell over. My legs were dead from the walk here. It was already the most activity I had done since I got sick. The urge to sit back on the bench and rest was overwhelming.

I made myself take one step toward the alley, then another. By the time I reached the main road I had some momentum.

Other pedestrians passed me on the street. Most gave me a wide berth. I couldn’t blame them. One Italian man walked ahead of me, looked back at me, and stopped. Underneath his mask, he had the longest nose I had ever seen. It made his mask look like a tent.

He said something that sounded like he was asking if I needed help. I shook my head and said, “She’s sick. Virus.”

He gave me a pitying look, like he wished he could help me anyway, but then hurried along.

My legs grew numb from exhaustion. Sweat poured down my neck, and my arms began to ache too. I looked longingly at every bench I passed, but I knew if I sat down to take a break I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. Besides, I didn’t want to delay Molly’s treatment. I could suffer a little longer if it meant getting her to the hospital.

She rolled her head to the side and her eyes opened a crack. “…playing… hide… seek,” she muttered.

“Yeah, we’re playing hide and seek,” I said. “Ready or not, here I come.”

Molly closed her eyes and smiled faintly, and mumbled something about cheating, and then fell back to sleep.

My legs burned. It felt like acid was pumping through my veins, not blood. I was winded, and couldn’t catch my breath. Every step I took was a miracle.

The Ospedale Britannico came into view, surrounded by trees and gardens. That gave me a burst of energy, and I walked faster. My legs were numb and it felt like I was walking in someone else’s body, but I kept pushing forward. Molly slumped in my arms. I could barely hold her anymore.

I reached the sliding glass doors of the entrance. As soon as the doors opened, I fell to my knees with exhaustion, but I managed to keep Molly from hitting the ground.

“Help!” I shouted. “She has the virus! Help me!”

Darkness crept around the edges of my vision. Nurses in full PPE ran toward me. It looked like they were running in slow-motion. That was strange. I lifted Molly higher in my arms, and they took her from me like she was precious cargo.

Then everything went black.