It's like being caught in a dream – or a nightmare – from which he can't wake. One minute he's helping Thomas Edison, the next he and Marco Polo are being taken captive; in both memories Bogg is gone. "Bogg? Where are you?" he mutters. He coughs, the spasms make breathing difficult.
"Jeffrey, open your mouth. I need you to swallow this." An arm reaches under the pillows that prop him up and pills are pushed in his mouth. "Come on, drink. No, drink and swallow." Water is poured in his mouth. "Good. Now let's have some soup." He doesn't recognize the female voice. It's not Olivia. Is it Annie Oakley? Anne Sullivan? Queen Anne? He snickers once and feels the soup trickle from the corner of his mouth. "Stop that," the voice says. Sirens blare in the background.
Heat runs through his body and his mind like electricity. Ben Franklin trying to launch his kite. Bogg burning at the stake. Then coolness on his forehead. A repeat of the pills and water. Swallowing. More water in his throat. A cool stinging on his chest and a burning in his eyes. Menthol? Yes, Vicks VapoRub. He smiles at a memory of his mother putting Vicks on his throat when he had a cold. "Mom?" he whispers, "thank you." Then more memories. The camper. The fire. "No," he moans. "Not this." He gulps air. "Mom? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you and Dad." Tears spill from his eyes down his cheeks as the grief of his eleven-year-old self rushes through his mind. "I tried so hard. I tried..."
A soft hand touches one cheek. "It's okay, Jeffrey. You're going to be all right. Rest and get some sleep." The image in his head shifts to a silk factory in China, then the Louvre, then a beach in Hawaii. He mutters, "Bogg, I want to go back to Hawaii." Finally the images dissipate, and he sleeps.
o-o-o-o-o
Jeffrey opened his eyes, stretched, and regarded his surroundings, feeling disoriented. This didn't look like Denver. A small room, a nightstand to his right with bottles of aspirin and Robitussin cough syrup and a container of Vicks - most of which it felt and smelled like he was wearing - was on his right. Through the window just past the nightstand he could see the sun setting and hear the sirens of fire engines. He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to look out the window to get his bearings. When that didn't work, he pushed his legs off the bed and onto the floor. Lightheadedness hit him like a wave and in grabbing the nightstand for support, several of the bottles clattered to the floor.
The door flew open. "Hey! Jeffrey! What do you think you're doing?" The speaker was a girl, a couple of years older and a couple of inches shorter than he was. "You get back on that bed right now." She pulled him back on the bed and rearranged the pillows so he could sit. "So you're awake," she said. "How do you feel?"
"Uh, yeah. Confused?" Jeffrey's voice felt rusty, as if it hadn't been used in a while. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?" He glanced down, realizing he felt a breeze on his legs. He was wearing shorts and and a white tee-shirt, not jeans and a blue polo. "And what happened to my clothes?"
The girl's cheeks turned red. "Yeah, clothes." She took a breath. "I'm Rebecca Levy, and your clothes are at the foot of the bed." She paused and looked down at the floor. "I don't think either of us really wants to have a conversation about how they got there. They're clean, washed in hot water to kill germs. I hope I didn't shrink your jeans. "
Jeff's eyes went wide. She was right about not wanting to have that conversation. "Thank you." He leaned back against the pillows, starting to relax, then sat bolt upright as he suddenly realized something. "Where's Bogg?" he asked, concern flooding his face.
"Is that the pirate?" Rebecca asked. "I wondered what his name was. He's on the bed to your left, beside the other nightstand." She put a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "He's going to be okay. His fever broke this morning. He's just asleep right now. He wasn't nearly as sick as you were." She looked at him with understanding. "Look, let me help you to the bathroom. You can get cleaned up, and then I can get you something to eat."
After a short bath - "No shower," Rebecca had warned. "I am not fishing you out of the tub." - Jeff shuffled into the kitchen, realizing with surprise the short walk had completely exhausted him and that he was hungry. Rebecca placed a bowl of soup in front of him. "Jewish penicillin," she said. "Just take it slow."
When the bowl was empty, Jeff moved it aside, put his elbows on the table, and rested his head on his hands. "So, how long have we been here?" he asked.
Rebecca gestured at the bowl, taking it off the table when Jeffrey shook his head. "Almost two weeks. You scared the living daylights out of me." She pulled an annoyed face at him. "I figure once you're both better, I'll make you explain how you got in my apartment."
"Your apartment?" Jeff wasn't able to hide his surprise. "You can't be that much older than me. Where are your folks?"
Rebecca's expression closed. "I'm almost eighteen. My parents died when I was a baby. My grandmother raised me." Her eyes filled, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. "She died a couple of weeks ago."
This time Jeffrey reached out a hand to Rebecca. "I'm sorry," he said. "My folks are gone, too."
"I know," she replied. At Jeff's look of surprise, she added, "You were... out of it for a bit. You talked about them." She turned her head to the wall for a moment. When she looked back at him, he knew she was changing the subject. "You talked about a lot of things. I'm guessing you're a real history buff. It was almost like you were talking about people you know." She shook her head. "Your friend – Bogg? – sounds like a real ladies' man. When he wasn't trying to leave the bed to look for you, he rambled on about one woman after the other."
Jeffrey laughed. "That's Bogg," he said. "He's a good guy, though. We're family."
"I can tell he cares about you. You're lucky." Rebecca leaned in and looked closely at Jeff's face. "I think you've been up enough for one day. Rest here for a few minutes. I'll put clean sheets on the bed and find something less menthol smelling for you to sleep in. Lucky for you I shop at all the finest Goodwill stores."
She went into the bedroom only to come right back out again. "He's waking up, and he's looking for you." Slowly they walked to the bedroom, Jeffrey's arm around Rebecca's shoulders and her arm around his waist. Rebecca sat Jeff down by Bogg's side and started stripping the sheets from his bed. Jeff took Bogg's hand.
"Jeffrey?" Bogg's voice rasped. His eyes opened slowly. "You okay?" Jeffrey nodded. "Good," he sighed. "Don't scare me like that again. Ever." Jeffrey nodded again and gently leaned over the older man to give him a hug. Bogg's arm tightened around him, then gradually relaxed. His eyes closed, and he fell back asleep.
