Betty's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

By afternoon the doctor came. Alice let him in and led him upstairs to Betty's room. Betty was in the bathroom again, bent over the toilet, gripping the cold rim. She heard the two of them in the doorway and tried to sit up straight. She failed. The doctor knelt on the tile. He was an older man with a soft voice and cold hands. "What's going on, Betty?" he asked. "Your mom says this has been all day." "My belly just doesn't feel good," Betty said. Her voice came out thin. She would not tell him about the woods. She would not tell him about the shed, or the wolves, or the hunters with rifles. If she said too much, they would watch her closer. She would never get out. He pressed his fingers into her stomach. Betty yelped. The pain shot up sharp and hot, and her body folded around it. Her mouth filled with sour spit and she leaned over the bowl and threw up again. Alice made a small sound in the doorway. She stepped forward and put a hand on Betty's back. "Is she okay? What is it?" The doctor sat back on his heels. He pressed once more, gentler this time, watching Betty's face. "It's a little swollen. Inflammation." He looked up at Alice. "The fever is stress. Not an infection." Alice's shoulders dropped an inch. "Stress." "She's got some stress ulcers, most likely. Small sores in the stomach lining." He handed Betty a towel. "They hurt like hell. They make you throw up. But they're not dangerous." He stood and washed his hands at the sink. "Honestly, she'd heal faster if she moved around. Lying in bed all day makes it worse." Betty's breath caught. She wiped her mouth and stared at him. Not dangerous. Move around. She turned the words over fast, the way she turned over a locked door looking for the loose hinge. Alice frowned. "Move around. You mean she can go out?" "Short walks. Fresh air. Nothing hard." He clicked his bag shut. "Keeping her cooped up won't help her belly, and it won't help the stress either." Betty looked at her mother. She kept her face calm, but her heart was already running to the shed. Erica and Malia were still out there. Deacon was still feeding them alone. And now a doctor had said the one thing that could crack her open the lock. Alice chewed her lip. She looked at Betty on the floor, pale and shaking, then at the doctor packing up. "Short walks," she repeated slowly. "Where I can see you." "I'll take short walks," Betty said. She kept her voice small and sick. Inside, a plan was already forming. The doctor had just handed her a way back to her pack.