chest and a tickle in the back of her throat.
“Just a bit under the weather.” she'd claimed. “No use getting your panties all in a bunch.”
Within days, though, the tickle had mutated into a cough that rattled deep within her chest. You could hear the phlegm in her lungs gurgling as it tried to break up and she would double over in a fit of coughing so bad that it wouldn't have surprised me if she had vomited. But nothing ever came of it other than a raspy voice and a fever so high you could feel it without even touching her.
Watchmaker stayed by her side the entire time, giving her sips of water that had been melted from the snow and occasionally singing snippets of a song that was, as Carl later informed me, and old ballad by Johnny Cash. Her hand looked so small and dainty in his, as if with the slightest bit of pressure he could crush the brittle bones into indiscernible fragments; but there was tenderness there, a delicacy in the way he touched his wife that told a lifetime of stories in a single gesture.
“She needs meds.” Carl whispered from the dining room. “She's just gonna get worse otherwise.”
Doc and I stood in silence, watching as Watchmaker pulled the tattered quilt up to Sadie's chin. His hands felt for the couch cushion she was using as a pillow and from there found her face, brushing her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“We could see if we can find a town.” Doc finally said. “Maybe raid a drugstore or doctor's office. Bring back what she needs.”
Carl closed his eyes and leaned back in the kitchen chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
“All well and good,” he said, “but what if we get lost out there? What if we can't find our way back here?”
“Wait.” I interrupted. “What are we talking about? Taking her? We don't even know how far the next town is. She could die out there and ...”
“And I reckon she definitely will if we don't, sweetie. You've seen how it is out there. Nothing but snow covered fields as far as the eye can see. Shit, it was just dumb luck we found this place to begin with.”
“We could Hansel and Gretel it.” Doc whispered. “Leave something as a trail so we can find our way back.”
Carl snorted and shook his head.
“And what happens if it decides to start snowing again? Before we're even halfway back that little trail would be gone.”
I listened to the two bicker back and forth and watched the elderly couple in the other room; I watched as Watchmaker's breath formed plumes in the air as he sung; I watched Sadie try to kick the blankets off her sweaty body and how he had to fight to make sure she remained covered. I watched the two and knew Carl was right: we had to do something.
“... if those things come 'round while we're dragging our sorry asses across the prairie? It's only a matter of time. They'll find us, mark my words. They always do. We can't stay here forever. Besides, we're runnin' out of food as well.”
“Fuck this.”
I stood and walked into the living room, leaving the two men in silence as they watched my departure. Standing next to Watchmaker, I placed my hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at me with those milky eyes.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear, recounting the debate that had been raging in the kitchen. I explained the pros and cons of each side, laying it out as bluntly and factually as I could.
“So,” I said, “what do you think?”
Watchmaker sat there for a minute, listening to his wife cough as she shivered. Despite the sheen of sweat that glistened on her face and the mound of blankets beneath which she was buried, there were still goose bumps on her arms.
In that moment he looked far older than I had ever seen him, as if decades had passed in mere seconds. His face drained of color and he squeezed his eyes shut as if warding off a headache. When he next spoke, his voice was as thin and devoid of emotion as a rotter in the most advanced stages of
“Just a bit under the weather.” she'd claimed. “No use getting your panties all in a bunch.”
Within days, though, the tickle had mutated into a cough that rattled deep within her chest. You could hear the phlegm in her lungs gurgling as it tried to break up and she would double over in a fit of coughing so bad that it wouldn't have surprised me if she had vomited. But nothing ever came of it other than a raspy voice and a fever so high you could feel it without even touching her.
Watchmaker stayed by her side the entire time, giving her sips of water that had been melted from the snow and occasionally singing snippets of a song that was, as Carl later informed me, and old ballad by Johnny Cash. Her hand looked so small and dainty in his, as if with the slightest bit of pressure he could crush the brittle bones into indiscernible fragments; but there was tenderness there, a delicacy in the way he touched his wife that told a lifetime of stories in a single gesture.
“She needs meds.” Carl whispered from the dining room. “She's just gonna get worse otherwise.”
Doc and I stood in silence, watching as Watchmaker pulled the tattered quilt up to Sadie's chin. His hands felt for the couch cushion she was using as a pillow and from there found her face, brushing her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“We could see if we can find a town.” Doc finally said. “Maybe raid a drugstore or doctor's office. Bring back what she needs.”
Carl closed his eyes and leaned back in the kitchen chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
“All well and good,” he said, “but what if we get lost out there? What if we can't find our way back here?”
“Wait.” I interrupted. “What are we talking about? Taking her? We don't even know how far the next town is. She could die out there and ...”
“And I reckon she definitely will if we don't, sweetie. You've seen how it is out there. Nothing but snow covered fields as far as the eye can see. Shit, it was just dumb luck we found this place to begin with.”
“We could Hansel and Gretel it.” Doc whispered. “Leave something as a trail so we can find our way back.”
Carl snorted and shook his head.
“And what happens if it decides to start snowing again? Before we're even halfway back that little trail would be gone.”
I listened to the two bicker back and forth and watched the elderly couple in the other room; I watched as Watchmaker's breath formed plumes in the air as he sung; I watched Sadie try to kick the blankets off her sweaty body and how he had to fight to make sure she remained covered. I watched the two and knew Carl was right: we had to do something.
“... if those things come 'round while we're dragging our sorry asses across the prairie? It's only a matter of time. They'll find us, mark my words. They always do. We can't stay here forever. Besides, we're runnin' out of food as well.”
“Fuck this.”
I stood and walked into the living room, leaving the two men in silence as they watched my departure. Standing next to Watchmaker, I placed my hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at me with those milky eyes.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear, recounting the debate that had been raging in the kitchen. I explained the pros and cons of each side, laying it out as bluntly and factually as I could.
“So,” I said, “what do you think?”
Watchmaker sat there for a minute, listening to his wife cough as she shivered. Despite the sheen of sweat that glistened on her face and the mound of blankets beneath which she was buried, there were still goose bumps on her arms.
In that moment he looked far older than I had ever seen him, as if decades had passed in mere seconds. His face drained of color and he squeezed his eyes shut as if warding off a headache. When he next spoke, his voice was as thin and devoid of emotion as a rotter in the most advanced stages of
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