Chapter 21

Whèintõmba, really?

I slept as much as I could manage. When I was asleep, the pain would go away.

I was very rudely awakened. I was thoroughly enjoying my dreams of snowballs and salt and pepper trees. I was really hoping that I would be able to go back to sleep, so I didn’t open my eyes.

“Raltum, how is he doing?” Staggy whispered.

“Not to worry you, but it isn’t looking good. Since he has already had Sting, his lungs are already heavily damaged. His breathing is bad, and it clearly causes him a lot of pain. He kept down tea all right, so I’m hoping food will stay down,” Me-Te-Raltum said.

“He threw up the day before yesterday, and I haven’t seen him eat since.”

“That’s worrying. When he wakes up, we’ll give him the medication and try to feed him something. Now, Stagtum, you need to get some proper rest. Also, I want you to stay away from the Sting tent. You are my best wound management medic. I don’t want you to get Sting.”

“Raltum. Please don’t do that to me. He is my very close friend, and I want to be there for him. I will wear a facecloth.” Staggy’s voice took on a frantic tone.

“Facecloths help, but they won’t completely stop you from getting sick. I am standing by my decision. I will give you updates on his conditions, but I don’t want you in here again. Understood, Stagtum?”

Staggy sounded completely dejected, “Yes.”

I wanted to put Staggy at ease, so I finally opened my eyes and spoke up. “I’ll be fine, Staggy. This will give me one more reason to get better.” It came out much weaker than I would have liked.

Staggy smiled down at me. “You’re in good hands. Raltum is pretty good at what he does.”

“Thanks, Staggy.” I went to sit up, but the movement made me cough.

Me-Te-Raltum took my weight. “Stagtum, you can leave now. Fi-Rico will be all right. I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Staggy looked like he wanted to protest, but Me-Te-Raltum clearly had power over him. He smiled at me, waved, then left. I would have waved back if I wasn’t still hacking up my insides.

When I finished coughing. Me-Te-Raltum removed the bloodied handkerchief from my mouth and laid me back down on the bed. He examined the handkerchief, a look of concern on his face. He looked down at me with a forced smile and said, “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

Manuca came with a bowl of whèintõmba. That was the last fucking thing I wanted to eat in the moment. I didn’t really want to eat anything, especially not whèintõmba.

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“Good morning, Fi-Rico. I’m Me-Da-Manuca. How are you feeling today?”

“Call me Rico.” I took a deep breath that really fucking hurt. “I feel like a piece of shit.”

“Maybe some food will help.” Me-Da-Manuca set the tray with my breakfast on it down onto the side table.

Me-Da-Manuca helped me to sit up. My weak, shacky body protested the movement, thetening me with another round of coughing, but I managed to sit up without coughing my insides up. I was dreading eating. I remembered how horrible it had been when I was seven. Even if I did manage to keep the food inside me, I would feel so sick. It was like my insides were eating themselves.

Me-Da-Manuca offered me a pill and a glass of water. “This should help to keep the food down.”

I took the pill and glass. My hands were shaking so badly the water was threatening to spill over the rim of the glass. Me-Da-Manuca took the glass from me. I popped the pill into my mouth, and with Me-Da-Manuca’s help took a swig of water to get the pill down.

Me-Da-Manuca grabbed the bowl of whèintõmba and sat on the edge of my bed. He held the bowl out to me. I took the spoon in my shaking hands. I tried to swallow the whèintõmba but my throat closed up. Finally, I was able to force the food down. Me-Da-Manuca nodded, and I took another bit. It was even worse than the first spoonful. I repeated this until I physically couldn’t get the food down my throat. I had barely even made a dent in the amount of whèintõmba.

I dropped the spoon back into the bowl and tried to take some deep breaths to ease the pain in my stomach, but breathing hurt just as much as eating. I slumped down onto the pillows. Me-Da-Manuca set the bowl down.

He placed a hand on my forehead. “You look pale; your fever is higher than before as well.”

Me-Da-Manuca lent down and picked something up from the floor. It was a bucket. Why did he have a bucket? The mystery was solved when I vomited into it. The whèintõmba looked barely different thrown up in the bucket than it had in the bowl.

Me-Da-Manuca set the bucket down on the ground. “I thought that would happen. How are you feeling?”

“Not great.” I took the handkerchief he offered me and whipped the vomit from my mouth.

“I’m going to go get Raltum.”

When Me-Te-Raltum came, they listened to my breathing and checked my temperature. They wrote a few things down in their notebook. Me-Te-Raltum told me to try to get some sleep before he left to take care of other patients. More people were coming in with Sting all the time. The tent never got quiet; someone was always coughing. All I wanted was to sleep, but it was too noisy, the blankets were too scratchy, and breathing was too painful.

I rolled onto my side and tried to get comfortable. I had only been awake for half an hour, but I was already so tired. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t escape into the comfort of sleep. Something always woke me up, and I had to start trying to get to sleep all over again.

At one point, it was one of the healers who woke me up. They told me to try not to sleep on my side. That it would only make breathing harder. I knew they were right because the moment I rolled to my back, every breath wasn’t so laborious, but it made getting to sleep even harder. I hated sleeping on my back. Something about it just felt wrong.

At some point, I finally fell asleep. No dreams plagued my sleep.

* * *

I was once again woken by Staggy’s and Me-Te-Raltum’s voices. This time they were more muffled. I quickly realised that was because they were outside. Tents aren’t soundproof people.

“Did he eat?” Staggy said.

“He did, but it didn’t stay down. He isn’t doing very well; his fever is very high, and he’s coughing up a lot of blood.”

Staggy’s voice took on a panicked tone. “What are you doing for him?”

“There is not much we can do. Some transport carts are coming tomorrow from the hospital, so I think I will send him to the capital hospital.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Yes.” Me-Te-Raltum really was a blunt person. They did not beat around the bush.

Maybe if I survived, I would be able to see my family again. That was a nice thought. I was able to get some more sleep after that.