Colleen Banner looked as though she had been dead for days. Smelled that way, too, as her body had voided itself. She was black and swollen everywhere above the shoulders; the neck in particular looked like an over-inflated tire. Her face and the bedding around her were splattered with more mucus and phlegm than Bryce would have thought a person to be capable of expelling. Her eyes were wide open, practically bulging, despite the swollen flesh around them.
"She . . . just got worse real fast," a weeping Erin said. "Started choking and jerking, and her face went . . . like that."
Margot and Erin embraced each other as Leon extended a trembling hand to Colleen's neck. He held two fingers there for many seconds before closing her eyes.
"I think . . . the home," Leon said. "Braintree Funeral Home." Then he let out a series of booming coughs.
Margot sneezed, then looked at Bryce and Eddie. "Could you . . . ?"
"Sure," Eddie said. He and Bryce wrapped Colleen's body in the bedding, then with Eddie at her feet and Bryce's hands under her shoulders they began to lift her. Bryce expected a severe test for his muscles and back, but she was shockingly easy to carry.
He found himself more at risk of dropping her from his shuddering than from her weight. Colleen had lost many pounds, he realized. This sickness was like flu, Black Death and TB aka consumption all in one. He looked at Eddie, who seemed to be thinking much the same way.
The two men put Colleen in the trunk of the Buick, then everyone entered its cabin with Bryce again taking the wheel. The four adults hacked and sneezed, and even Erin now had a runny nose.