Page 45 - Fever 1793

“I can’t leave you. You look worse.”
He held up his hand. “I’ll be fine. Γ11 sit here and watch the wind blow, think about old friends. We need food and blankets. Off with you.”
The sun was at its highest as I set out on my search. It felt like a bonfire spitting embers on my head. I took the first narrow road that branched off toward the east, sure that it would lead to a farm.
The man hoeing a field of potatoes took one look at me and ran off. I followed him to a farmhouse, but the door was locked.
“Go away!” shouted a voice inside. “We have children in here. We can’t help you if you have the fever.”
What was wrong with the world? Would I next see birds flying backward, or cows crocheting doilies? I walked on, stopping now and then to cough or rest my legs.
The heat rolled to the horizon like waves toward shore. Except for a few raspberries, I had eaten nothing for two days. A flock of geese flew overhead. I could only think of how they would taste with roast potatoes. Grandfather would need more water soon. I needed to go back. I stumbled along, head down, fighting to keep my eyes from closing.
My shoe squashed something brown and green and soft. I shuddered and hurried my pace. I could never abide rotted fruit. It drew flies.
Fruit.
Fruit?
I spun around, wide awake and hungry.
Above me hung gnarled branches heavy with green speckled pears. I grabbed one and bit into it,
ignoring the juice that ran down my fingers and chin. I gathered as many pears as I could carry and set off with new energy to find Grandfather. With food, we could hold out for days.
I didn’t notice when the pears grew heavy. By the time the chestnut tree was in sight, they felt like tiny anvils weighing me down. I breathed heavily and focused on moving one foot at a time. I turned around. Did I hear voices whispering? A swarm of gnats flew into my eyes. I stumbled and dropped a few pears. I looked up. The chestnut tree seemed farther away. I felt like I was sliding backwards. I wasn’t walking on a dirt road, I was slipping across the frozen river. The sun wasn’t made of fire, it was a monstrous snowball. My teeth clattered together. What was wrong with me?
I saw a figure stand under the tree. I tried to call Grandfather’s name, but could make no sound. The wind carried a roaring sound. Why was I carrying these rocks? I stumbled. Where was Mother? Where was Eliza? The balloon. I’ll be up in a minute, Mother. Just let me sleep.
Then, blackness.