The wracking and gagging continue through the night. Aaron sweats profusely at times; his fever rises. As he becomes more aware, he struggles to move limbs still laden with fluid (though drained considerably of some 2 gallons over the last few days) and bristling with tubes and wires. He is restrained for fear that he will rip asunder the conduits of life which connect him to his machines. The intense effort seems to exhaust him…the numbers of his life reflect the toll. Has he overspent his precious oxygen budget in fruitless struggle?
With morning and a new shift, Kamela observes his condition to the doctors. He is mercifully sedated more heavily, and rests somewhat easier for the rest of the day. The Fever persists, its source still a mystery. At 39.5 C, he is packed with ice. There is an enemy within seeking to destroy that which it may.
