Post by StoryGirl83 on Nov 10, 2011 22:50:22 GMT -5
Chapter Two – Witch’s Fever
Chris Halliwell didn’t know what made him the most anxious. It could be the fact that his dad was almost one day into a disease that started killing people as little as five days after they started showing symptoms. Or maybe there was the fact that his uncle, whom admittedly he didn’t know all that well, but was still his uncle and treated like a big brother by his mother, was over halfway through the fifth day with a very bad case of it.
There was of course the most immediate option that he’d been up since four-thirty . . . yesterday . . . and he’d only had three hours of sleep the previous night. That was enough to put strain on someone not only in the middle of a family crisis, but what was quickly fixing up to be a global one. To make matters worse, there was nothing, absolutely nothing giving them an idea as to what was causing it.
All they had managed to deduce was that it was magical in origin, because there was no way every magical person they knew had the same immunity to it otherwise. That eliminated only a very small portion of causes. When it came to the world of magic there was an almost infinite amount of possible causes.
He opened the door into his dad’s hospital room. The San Francisco area wasn’t so badly infected that people were doubling up rooms yet, but it was only a matter of time unless someone figured out how to fix it. Inside he found his mom, Piper Halliwell, asleep in the arm chair next to his dad’s bed. She looked exhausted, so he decided to let her sleep.
He looked down at his dad’s bed. Leo Wyatt had always seemed like he could survive anything. After all, he’d died and was still alive eighty-five years later. Was this the end for him?
Chris couldn’t accept that.
“Your dad?” a voice from the doorway asked.
Chris looked up at the nurse and nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. “We’ve got a lot of cases of the witch’s fever.”
“The what?” Chris looked at her confused.
“Witch’s fever,” she repeated. She shrugged. “It started somewhere around Salem and someone started calling it witch’s fever. It stuck, so that’s what they are calling it. It’s not like anyone’s got a better name for it.”
True, he thought with a scowl, but I don’t like it. Witches don’t need more bad rap.
“I’ve got to do some tests,” the nurse informed him. “I hate to wake your mom, she looks so tired, so would you mind stepping out of the way?”
Chris sighed. “I’ll be back later. Take care of him.”
“We’re doing our best,” she assured him.
Yeah, he thought as he headed out of the room, but so far that hasn’t been enough. He headed down the hall and started looking for an empty room to orb out from.
“Looking for me?” a voice asked from a bed in the sixth room he checked.
Chris looked up surprised. “Emily.”
Emily Colson gave him a sheepish grin from her hospital room. “I’ve got a fever. Apparently that can only mean one thing. No one else in my family is sick, which I guess is good. How’s your uncle doing?”
“Not good,” Chris admitted. “Aunt Prue’s worried sick. With as sick as he is, it’s likely he’ll succumb to this soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she looked at him unhappily. “I know a lot of people have died, but so far I haven’t known anyone who’s died and I haven’t known anyone who knew someone that died. I really don’t want you to be the first.”
“I kind of have to go,” he told her. “I just stopped by to see my dad . . .”
“Your dad!” she exclaimed looking at him startled. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Chris.”
He heaved in a sigh. “Thanks. Anyway, I was just here to see him. He’s asleep, but they wanted to do some tests on him, so I figured I’d head on home. My cousins are at the manor trying to find something useful and I thought I’d offer to help.”
“You look about ready to drop,” Emily commented, looking him over.
“Boy, thanks.”
She gave him a shrug and a smile. “Get some sleep, okay. You’re no good to anyone if your brain’s not functioning.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he assured her.
“You do more than that,” she ordered him. “Get some rest.”
“We’ll see.”
She glared at him. After several seconds she sighed. “Fine.” Thinking about what he said, she asked, “So you think this is magical?”
“It has to be,” Chris insisted. “As far as we can tell no one magical has been affected.”
“Maybe you just have really good immune systems,” she suggested.
“Not likely,” he argued. “Jani was forever suffering from hypothermia when she was little and Alanna was always running a fever.”
“Forgive me for stating the obvious,” she chuckled, not sounding at all sorry, “but doesn’t Alanna shoot fire out of her hands? And doesn’t Jani have ice in her veins . . . literally.”
He shrugged. “That’s true, but they weren’t the only ones who got sick.”
“Well, off with you then,” she shooed him away. “Get some sleep.”
Chris smiled. “We’ll see.” And then he orbed out.
Emily smiled as she snuggled into her bed. She was still hoping that she didn’t have whatever this disease was, but if she did, she had confidence in Chris.