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“I told you, I’m fine.”
“And I told you, you’re not,” Jakub shoots back. Mathieu shakes his head, looking away. “Mathieu. We’re just worried about you. You’re sick-”
“I’m just tired, Jakub.” He rubs his forehead. “And this damn plane, it’s too hot…”
“It’s not though,” Jakub says patiently. “The plane’s working fine.” Mathieu looks up at him, plain confusion on his face. “You have a fever. You’re running yourself into the ground.”
“I think your hand is infected,” Laura says as she comes through the curtain to the rear of the cabin. They’d drawn it once they’d dragged Mathieu back here, to give them some privacy from the other passengers. “On top of not having slept more than 10 hours since we left Belgium.” She sets the first aid kit in the seat in front of them. “We have some antibiotics left, and a bit of aspirin, and then you’ll sleep until it’s time to land, clear?”
“Sylvie and the autopilot can handle things for now. We’ll come get if anything goes wrong. I promise.”
Mathieu sighs, and nods. “I supposed you’re right. If I just can rest for a few hours, then I’ll…I’ll be more myself.” He drops his head tiredly into his uninjured hand. “My hand is throbbing…”
Jakub and Laura exchange a worried look over his head.
“Yes, Mathieu, that’s the infection,” Laura says gently. “It will be okay. Just let me clean it, and then we’ll let you rest.”
Mathieu allows her to clean and rewrap the wound with only a low hiss of pain at the worst part. The consciousness he had been so stubbornly clinging to seems to be at last slipping away.
“Here, Mathieu, take this.” Laura gives him several small white pills and a bottle of water. He takes them with a nod of thanks.
“Tell Sylvie…”
“Sylvie will be fine. We’ll come get you if she runs into any problems. Promise.” Jakub pats his shoulder. Mathieu nods and allows himself to be pushed to lie down across the row of seats. Laura drapes a blanket over him and she and Jakub quietly slip out of the curtain, closing it tight behind them.
Ayaz is there to meet them. “So? How is he?”
Laura shakes her head. “The wound is definitely infected. His fever is high. He’s getting delirious.”
“Under normal circumstances, there is no way he’d be flying this plane,” Jakub says.
“And under these ones?” Ayaz looks between them.
Laura shrugs. “Hopefully with a few hours rest. We don’t have many antibiotics left, but maybe we can pick some up at our next stop…”
Suddenly, Mathieu appears, pulling back the curtain harshly. “There’s something…”
Laura makes to gently shove him back. “Mathieu, you need to rest.”
“No, there’s something wrong with the plane,” he says harshly.
The three of them exchange a glance.
“There’s nothing wrong with the plane,” Jakub says slowly. “I checked her over twice. Don’t you trust me?” But Mathieu is shaking his head. His face is white, damp with sweat. “Come on, I thought you had more faith in mechanics than that.”
“Something’s wrong,” he insists. “I can feel it.”
“But I was just in the cockpit with Sylvie,” Horst says as he comes up the aisle towards them with Zara. “Everything looked fine.”
“No, I-” Mathieu rasps. His next breath wheezes out of his throat. “But it’s hot…and…my heart…”
“Oh God,” Laura says suddenly. Mathieu has reached up to tug at the collar of his shirt, exposing a part of his chest. Bright scarlet splotches are rising on his skin, spreading. “Oh God.”
“He’s having an allergic reaction,” Zara cries. “Is there an-”
“Yes. There’s one in the first aid kit. Lie him down. Keep him calm.” Laura drops to her hands and knees, digging desperately through the first aid kit.
Jakub and Ayaz lunge forward, grabbing Mathieu by the elbows. He doesn’t resist them now, too far gone, distracted by his rapidly developing inability to breathe. They push him to lie down flat in the aisle as he coughs and struggles to draw air into his lungs.
Jakub keeps his hand firmly on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Mathieu, just breathe.” He can’t answer now. His throat seals shut, the violent red hives spreading over his skin. His chest heaves and bucks as he desperately tries to get air and fails. “Laura! Where’s the epipen!”
“Hold on - here!” She finally finds it and lurches forward, popping the cap off. She nearly falls in her desperation, tripping over to them and driving the injector hard into his leg.
Nothing happens for a second, but then Mathieu takes an easier breath, then another.
“Don’t try to talk, Mathieu,” Laura says. “Just stay calm.”
“I have some antihistamines, I take it for seasonal allergies,” Zara says from above them. “Will that help?”
“Yes,” Laura responds. “That should help with the allergic reaction.” She looks at Jakub. “But not the infection.” Zara nods and runs to get her bag.
“We’ll give him the antihistamines and hope the reaction doesn’t come back.” Laura’s voice raises in distress. “But the infection will only get worse. These are the only antibiotics we have, if he’s allergic.”
“Okay, we can-”
“No. You don’t understand. The infection is in his blood now. We need to cut off the infected tissue, we need more antibiotics. A surgical suit, IVs, oxygen…”
“Laura, you can-”
“I am not a doctor!” She cries.
“You’re the best we’ve got,” Horst says. “We need to keep him stable until we land. What did you say he needed?”
“Oxygen, surgery…”
“Is there any way to override the oxygen system to use it now?”
Jakub shakes his head. “Even if we could, we only have about ten minutes, less now that we used some of it up when the cabin depressurized.”
“So our best bet is to land back in Brussels and Laura…”
“I can’t…”
“You can. You are the closest thing to a doctor we’ve got.”
“We’ll do some research while we’re waiting. We should be able to find more info online, I’ll help you,” Horst says.
Laura still shakes her head but she doesn’t verbally protest again. Her hand shakes as she grasps Mathieu’s shoulder.
“It will be okay,” Jakub says. “It’s going to be okay.”
“But who will land the plane?” Zara asks. There’s a beat of silence as they all look at each other. “Who’s going to land the plane in Brussels?”
“Sylvie,” Ayaz says confidently. “Sylvie can land the plane.” At their empty expressions staring back at him, his confidence wavers. “Can’t she?”