Chance had left the house the morning concerned for Trish, but that was nothing new. He knew she didn’t like being on restrictions and felt she was more than capable of doing the things she usually did – he just worried that she might overdo it, and today was no exception to that rule. He’d spent the early morning at the outreach center helping out in the kitchen, and the rest of it organizing the volunteers.
Things started going downhill after lunch, and it all started with a mild headache.
He’d sent someone out to pick up lunch for him, since he didn’t like leaving the office until Charles woke up and was able to relieve him. He felt that by staying there and doing whatever needed to be done in the administrative capacity he’d been assigned was the way to be most helpful to him. The headache had been barely noticeable when he retreated to the office for the rest of the day, but after half an hour it had hit full blown migraine territory, and it made it all the harder for him to focus on the task in front of him.
Blade had brought him some Motrin, but it had little effect even an hour after taking it. Around two-thirty in the afternoon, he’d started coughing; just a little at first. He was attempting to study for his GED test some more with Blade’s help, but between the migraine and now the cough, which was gradually getting worse and more chesty sounding, it was impossible to get anything done. Every time one of those deep chest coughs came and he had to cough, he felt like his head was going to split open.
Around four he had stepped out of the office, intending to go outside to get a little air and see if that helped, Blade following behind him, just in case. Things were fine until he passed the kitchen, where the smells from dinner preparation wafted out and assailed his nose. He was able to shake his head a minute at Blade before backing up a few steps to find either the nearest bathroom, or the nearest trash can before he vomited. Blade followed, concerned. After expelling the contents of his stomach, Chance looked around to make sure no one else was in the restroom before looking at Blade.
“I thought ghouls didn’t get sick.”
“They don’t, as far as I know.”
“Then what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know man, but you should go home. I can handle the rest of the night.”
Chance shook his head. “I can’t risk getting Trish sick like this.” he said, as a coughing fit started. When he’d finished, he was taking large, gasping breaths, trying to get a hold of himself.
“Dude, are you going to be okay?”
Chance’s response was another coughing fit. He turned his head in time to not make a mess on the floor. Blade heard him retching as he kept an eye out for anyone entering the restroom, when he heard, between smaller coughs “That can’t be good.”
Blade looked over to see that Chance hadn’t vomited like he’d thought – he’d coughed up blood, and there was more than a little.
“Okay Dude, I don’t care what you say, I’m calling for an ambulance.”
“But -”
“No buts. Something is seriously wrong.”
Chance didn’t argue any further as he was interrupted by more coughing. Blade pulled out his phone in order to call 911 and explain the situation for them, then called out to some of the volunteers to direct them back to the restroom once the ambulance came.
The response time was relatively reasonable, and a short time later Chance was being carried out on a stretcher, still coughing, a bit of blood at his mouth from the earlier incident. Blade watched as he was carted out and the ambulance drove off before heading to the office. Charles would be up soon, and Blade wanted to make sure he was there to give him all the details, rather than have him hear it from a volunteer with little context.
Elsewhere…..
Nikolai had been doing some shopping for basic necessities for himself, since he was running low on a few things other than groceries. He’d been ignoring the mounting headache, and had been a little concerned about the cough that had developed. It was in the middle of the frozen foods section that he started having a violent coughing fit, whereupon he brought up blood. Some concerned shoppers called 911 to tell them what had happened, and a couple people were trying to keep him calm as possible and basically try to keep him from freaking out until help arrived.
Still elsewhere…..
It was roughly two hours before the club was to open for the night, and Jim was not as meticulous as he typically was, and it didn’t go without notice. A couple of the other employees that were there early cast up concern, but he insisted he was fine as he went back into the kitchen, whereupon a violent coughing fit started, exacerbating the headache. He felt as though he were having trouble breathing, and he was able to lean over the sink in time for another coughing fit as he felt something coming up. An employee came to check up on him.
She took one look at him and the blood in the sink before calling 911 to explain the situation, then opened the kitchen door to yell for another employee to keep an eye on Jim until help came while she called up the manager to see if they needed to close for the night, considering that technically there was a health hazard in the kitchen.
“Trish? It’s Emily, from the club?”
“I remember. What’s up?”
“Jim’s real sick – I had to call 911 because he’d coughed up a bunch of blood in the kitchen sink. Which isn’t that a health hazard, technically?”
“Yes, it is. Tell everyone there to go home, and make sure there’s a note on the door stating that we’re closed for the night. Have Michael lock the place up. I’ll call the others and tell them not to come in, then let the owner know.”
“Ok. Will do Ms. VanZant.”
Trish looked worried as she hung up with Emily. Ghould didn’t get sick – they never got sick. Vince was unlikely to believe her at first, but she’d relay what Emily said. hopefully he’d check up on Jim.