Virals(52)

I went flat again.

Eventually, the fit passed and my wits returned.

"What the frick?"

I braced for a third wave.

Nothing.

I rubbed my temples, then probed my body for damage.

All my parts were where they belonged.

And I felt perfectly fine. Energized even. Stronger. Sharper. Like I'd chugged a double espresso.

Same as on the boat. What the hell?

Coop yapped, loud and insistent, then stood on his hind legs and pawed my side.

"I know." I scratched his ears. "You want the canned food."

Feeding Coop was easier than thinking, so I opened a can and spooned the contents into his bowl. I was about to place the food on the floor when a message clicked home from my crazy detector.

"Holy crap!"

I stared at Coop.

Coop stared at me.

No way.

"Did you talk to me?"

As soon as the words escaped, I felt ridiculous. Coop didn't know English, hadn't spoken out loud. A dog doesn't have the vocal cords needed for human speech.

But the puppy had done ... something.

True, my memory was cottage cheese. But a gut feeling persisted: Coop and I had connected on some level.

Coop cocked his head, whined, then nose-nudged my hand. My delay in serving was unappreciated.

I set the bowl aside, cupped Cooper's head between my palms. Spoke slowly.

"Did you place a lunch order? In my head?"

Whine. Slurp.

Stop acting loony. You passed out. It was a dream.

Shaking my head, I gave over the bowl. Coop pounced. Tail wagging, he inhaled his lunch in hungry gulps.

"Sorry, boy," I cooed, stroking his back. "Mommy's hallucinating."





Hi's no-show worried me. It wasn't like him. Could he be sick again, too?

Belly full of brown glop, Coop conked out. Minutes later I was bouncing up the Stolowitski's front steps.

Two knocks. No answer.

I waited, knowing Ruth's routine of checking the whole planet before opening the door.

A curtain flicked. Chains rattled. Locks clicked.

"Bubbala!" Ruth's hug pulled me through the door. "Would you like something to eat?"

For a moment I tensed in Ruth's embrace. Thoughts of Mom flashed through my head. When was the last time I'd been hugged? Kit and I certainly weren't there yet.

I ducked that train of thought. Now was not the time.

"No thanks," I said, quickly disengaging. "Is Hiram in?"

"Tsk." Ruth was a world-class tsker. "He's lounging in his room. Such a slugabed." Loud, directed up the staircase. "Get him to do something productive with his Saturday. For a change!"

"Will do."

Hi's door opened before I could knock. Motioning me inside with sharp, quick gestures, he closed it and flopped into his barcalounger, breathless and pale.

My stomach tensed at seeing his condition.

"You look terrible," I said.

"Trust me, I feel worse. My head's pounding like a Lady GaGa song."

"Me too." I told him about my breakdown, leaving out the canine telepathy. I needed answers, not stares.

"Did you faint again?" I asked.

"No." Hi dodged my eyes. "I've had ... other problems."

I motioned for him to continue.

"Let's call it 'plumbing,' and leave it at that. Don't tell my mother. You know how she gets."

"No problem. But I'm worried we caught a bug."

"Have you checked with Shelton?"

I shook my head. "Next stop."

"We've probably got the plague," Hi moaned. "Should we bite the bullet and see a doctor?"

"Let's see how the others are first. Stay online."

"I'll be here." He pointed at his bathroom. "That toilet's the center of my universe."

Ugh. TMI.





I rang the bell at the Devers house, two doors down.

No response.

I rang again.

No one home.

I was texting Shelton when I noticed Ben on the dock, fixing Sewee's lines. I walked down to him.

"Hey," I called. "You still feeling okay?"

"Yep. Why wouldn't I?"

I told Ben about my fainting spell and Hi's discomfort. He stepped back and covered his mouth with one hand.

"I'll keep my distance. I've got enough problems."

"Thanks. Your sympathy is underwhelming."

But Ben's lack of symptoms reassured me. If he was okay, what was affecting Hi and me could be routine.

"Just tweet if you start feeling bad," I said.

"Fine. Now scram, carrier monkey. I'm not shopping for swine flu."

"I hope you get what Hi's got," I shot back, then turned toward my house.

Nap time.





CHAPTER 38


My nap wasn't to be. Kit hadn't gone to Loggerhead after all. When I returned, he was lurking in the living room, armed with questions that couldn't wait.

"Tory. Sit." Patting the sofa cushion beside him.

Game face. I couldn't reveal my condition. Paranoid about his lack of parenting skills, Kit might overcompensate with medical attention. I wasn't getting shipped to a doctor today. Too tired.