“I’ll make sure they know we’re doing our due diligence and ruling them out,” Chuck said and pointed to the box of cookies on the windowsill. “Are those the tainted cookies?”
“Yes,” Dice said and handed the box to Chuck.
He opened it and leaned closer as he inhaled. “I have to say, these would’ve fooled me, too. They smell like regular cookies to me.”
“They didn’t taste bad either. It wasn’t a normal cookie taste, but it wasn’t what I would call bad.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it on that part,” he chuckled.
“Definitely. I’ve never been this sick, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Well, I think I have everything I need, so I’ll get out of here and let you get some rest. I hope you have a speedy recovery.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks, Chuck,” I said and walked him to the door. “I really appreciate you handling this personally.”
“I’m happy to help. I hope we can find some answers for you soon. I’ll be in touch.”
When I turned back to Daphne, she had one hand covering her mouth and was frantically waving and pointing at the emesis basin across the room. I grabbed it and rushed to her side. I made it just in time for black, gritty vomit to splatter all over my hands as it splashed out of the tiny container. Before I could react, Daphne started to choke as her body continued to heave.
“Ink!” I bellowed. “Get somebody! Now!”
I heard the door open, followed by Ink shouting, “Yo! We need some help in here! I think she’s choking.”
Two nurses ran into the room, and I reluctantly moved to the side so they could help her. Patch appeared a few moments later. “What happened?”
“She started vomiting again, and I think she choked,” I told him.
“She’s okay,” one of the nurses said. “I’m going to grab her nausea medicine. I’ll be right back.”
“I’m sorry,” Daphne cried.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Ink told her.
“I threw up on Dice.”
“Well, he probably deserved it,” Ink said, eliciting a brief smile from Daphne.
I’d completely forgotten about it until she mentioned it. Looking down at my hands, I shrugged and walked over to the sink the nurses frequently used. “I don’t give a shit about that. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No,” she sobbed. “This is awful. Can you sedate me?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Patch said. “But we can insert a tube through your nose into your stomach and connect it to suction to keep your stomach empty. You may still experience some nausea, but it will stop the vomiting.”
“Please,” she cried and heaved again. “I can’t handle this.”
When the nurse returned with her nausea medication, he sent the other one to get the tube he needed.
“You may want to step outside for this,” Patch said.
“It’s up to you, Daphne. I’ll stay if you want me to,” I told her.
“At this point, I don’t care if you don’t,” she said.
“All right,” Patch said. “But we’re not catching you if you pass out.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. And I was, though I’ll admit to feeling a little woozy for a moment when he first inserted thetube into Daphne’s nose. But the look of relief on Daphne’s pale face when he finished was worth it.