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Day 380

Infection and the Rising Tide

Dawn found Kevin crouched by the Yanmar while Jenny sat on a crate wrapping her ankle, clouds thickening over the channel. He checked the mooring ring, found the cedar wedges useless, and drove oak ones in their place. The shortwave crackled with voice fragments. "Radio check at 0800. Supply boat's due in four days if the weather holds," Kevin said. Jenny de-salted sea beet leaves, noting no spreading redness yet. "I'll check the radio after breakfast. I need to de-salt the sea beet before it turns," she said. Kevin mixed copper spray for the seedlings. "Let me look at it after. Before you start on the beet." "It's fine, Kevin. I have work to do." "Alright. I'll get the copper spray mixed for the seedlings. You call me if it flares." "I'll call you."

Dawn found Kevin crouched by the Yanmar while Jenny sat on a crate wrapping her ankle, clouds thickening over the channel. He checked the mooring ring, found the cedar wedges useless, and drove oak ones in their place. The shortwave crackled with voice fragments. "Radio check at 0800. Supply boat's due in four days if the weather holds," Kevin said. Jenny de-salted sea beet leaves, noting no spreading redness yet. "I'll check the radio after breakfast. I need to de-salt the sea beet before it turns," she said. Kevin mixed copper spray for the seedlings. "Let me look at it after. Before you start on the beet." "It's fine, Kevin. I have work to do." "Alright. I'll get the copper spray mixed for the seedlings. You call me if it flares." "I'll call you."

Midday rain drummed the roof. Barometer held at 987 hPa. Kevin collected limpets and sea beet from the tide pools before the rising water covered them. Jenny sketched salt gland morphology, her hand trembling. Her ankle showed spreading redness and heat. "Don't stay too long, the tide is turning," she said. "Won't. Back before it covers the kelp line."

Evening: boiled limpets and sea beet on the porch. Red streaks visible on Jenny's calf in lantern light. "Limpets'll be done in five. Broth's good for the rice." "I'm not hungry, Kevin." "You don't eat, the meds tear your stomach. Broth then. Salt, fat, water." "I'll drink it." Kevin dosed her with metronidazole. "Metronidazole's in the kit. Two tabs, twice a day. Start now." "The boat is still four days away." "Radio check at 0800. I'll raise the supply boat, get a real position. If they're delayed... we call it before noon." "Don't call them yet. Give the medicine time to work." "Until 0800. Then I key the mic."

Night: rain lashed the roof. Jenny woke shivering in 29°C heat, breathing shallow, leg infection radiating through the bunk.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Morning Tide and Engine Check

Kevin crouches by the Yanmar engine while the rising tide laps against the greenheart pilings. Jenny sits on a weathered crate, wrapping her ankle as she watches the clouds thicken over the channel.

Kevin heads to the garden to mix the copper solution for the seedlings, checking the mooring ring as the tide rises. Jenny stays in the kitchen, propping her ankle up on a crate and watching the thickening clouds roll in.

🔧 Kevin13:25

Radio check at 0800. Supply boat's due in four days if the weather holds.

Check Yanmar mounting bolts and prop shaft alignment while the water's still low enough to see the transom.

💭 thought
Tide's coming up fast. Barometer's still dropping — 988 and falling. She's wrapping that ankle slow, like she's got all day. Don't like the look of those clouds or the silence between us.
🌿 Jenny13:25

I'll check the radio after breakfast. I need to de-salt the sea beet before it turns.

Jenny tightens the wrap on her ankle, wincing as the fabric brushes against the hot skin.

💭 thought
If the boat doesn't come, I'll run out of antibiotics before the infection reaches my knee.
🔧 Kevin13:26

Let me look at it after. Before you start on the beet.

Torque the Yanmar's front mount bolts to 35Nm, working the wrench slow so the greenheart doesn't split.

💭 thought
She's favouring it. The wrap's too tight or the swelling's worse. Cephalexin should've kicked harder by now. Should've checked the wound last night instead of the engine.
🌿 Jenny13:27

It's fine, Kevin. I have work to do.

Jenny opens her notebook and begins a rough sketch of the sea beet's salt glands, her hand trembling slightly.

💭 thought
He thinks he's being helpful, but he's just watching me fail.
🔧 Kevin13:28

Alright. I'll get the copper spray mixed for the seedlings. You call me if it flares.

Walk to the shed, mix fresh copper solution in the old bucket, and head to the seed trays to spot-treat the damping-off cells.

💭 thought
She's not fine. Hand's shaking — infection or fatigue. Won't let me near it. Notebook out already, pretending focus. Salt gland sketch again — she's been doing that since the trays went bad.
🌿 Jenny13:30

I'll call you.

Jenny stops sketching and rubs the side of her ankle, checking the red line for any movement.

💭 thought
The air is getting heavy; the pressure is dropping faster than my fever is rising.
🔧 Kevin13:31

Kettle's on if you want tea before the spray.

Carry the copper bucket to the garden, crouch at the seed trays, and spray the pepper and lettuce cells showing fuzz — careful not to hit the tomatoes.

💭 thought
She's measuring the spread. Red line's her marker — if it crosses the tape, she knows. Smart. Stubborn. Won't say it hurts.
🌿 Jenny13:32

I'll have tea in a minute.

Jenny closes the notebook slowly, stands up with a groan, and limps toward the kitchen.

💭 thought
I need to focus on the morphology, not the heat deforming my own skin.
🔧 Kevin13:32

I'll bring it out when it's done. Don't rush.

Fill the kettle from the rain barrel, light the primus, and set it to boil while I check the mooring ring for play now that the tide's higher.

💭 thought
She's moving slow now. Groan came deep — not just the ankle. Something's off in her chest or gut. Tea's an excuse to sit.
🌿 Jenny13:34

I'm not going way.

Jenny sits at the kitchen table, propping her ankle up on a crate and watching the clouds artwork over the island.

💭 thought
If the boat doesn't come, the seeds will rot in that tin with me.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Morning tea before the rain

The kettle begins to whistle on the primus as the sky darkens further, the scent of coming rain filling the air.

Kevin inspected the dock mooring ring and found the cedar wedges ineffective, then began reinforcing it with oak wedges. Jenny de-salted the sea beet leaves and checked her ankle, noting no spreading redness. The shortwave radio crackled with intermittent voice fragments in the morning.

🌿 Jenny13:35

The water's boiling, Kevin.

stand up slowly, wincing in pain, and pull the kettle off the stove while rubbing the hot skin of my ankle.

💭 thought
If the fever spikes before the boat comes, I'm going to be unable to walk the north ridge.
🔧 Kevin13:36

Leave it. I'll pour.

walk over to the primus and take the kettle handle from her, steering her back toward the chair with a hand on her good shoulder

💭 thought
She's moving too much on that ankle. The streaks haven't spread but they haven't receded either, and every step risks tearing something loose.
🌿 Jenny13:37

I need to de-salt those leaves first.

sink back into the chair, letting out a way breath, and watch him pour the water.

💭 thought
He thinks he's helping, but he's just taking up space.
🔧 Kevin13:38

Done already. In the bowl by the sink. De-salted last tide.

set the kettle on the table, pull out the tea tin and two mugs, measure loose leaf into the pot without looking up

💭 thought
She's stubborn about the work. The ankle needs stillness, not salt water and standing at the sink. I can de-salt sea beet with my eyes closed.
🌿 Jenny13:38

I was going to check the edges for bitterness first.

lean back, staring at the steam rising from the mugs, and feel the throb in my ankle.

💭 thought
He didn't even ask if I wanted them right.
🔧 Kevin13:40

Bitterness is gone. Three changes of fresh water, same as always. Taste it if you don't believe me.

slide the mug toward her, steam curling between us, and sit down hard on the edge of my chair, keeping my voice low and even

💭 thought
She's holding on to the ritual because it's something she can still control. The bitterness check, the de-salting—it's not about the leaves. It's about proving to herself she's still useful.
🌿 Jenny13:41

I know how you make it.

take a small sip of the tea, wincing slightly, and look down at the unfinished sketch on the table.

💭 thought
He's so sure of everything, it's suffocating.
🔧 Kevin13:44

The transect's done. North ridge to the tide line. Every elevation, every cluster logged.

blow across my own mug, watching the steam break, and don't reach for the notebook

💭 thought
She's looking at the sea beet sketches again. The salt gland illustrations. She's memorized every line I drew and she's still checking them like she'll find something I missed.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday work and the falling tide

Kevin is at the keeper's cottage; Jenny is at the north cliffs

The rain continues its steady, rhythmic drumming against the roof of the cottage. The tide is fully out, exposing the slick, dark rocks of the tide pools and the kelp-strewn floor. The air pressure is holding at 987 hPa, suggesting the storm has paused its descent for now.

🔧 Kevin13:47

Kevin — drill and tap four bolt holes through the steel doubler plate into the dock timber, then drive 150mm stainless through-bolts with washers and nyloc nuts, torquing to 35Nm

💭 thought
Fourth wedge seats clean. Ring's dead still in the mortise now — no play at all. Tide's dropped enough to see the bolt holes in the doubler plate. Need to drill and tap four through-bolts before the next high water, or the wedges'll work loose under surge loading.
🌿 Jenny13:48

Stay put, little thing.

Sketch the cellular structure of the salt glands on the leaf surface.

💭 thought
If I can't get this sketch right, I'll never know if these plants can actually survive in this soil.
🔧 Kevin13:50

Kevin — walk back to the cottage, check generator storm lashings on the porch, then brace the porch door with a two-by-four vertical against the frame

💭 thought
Four bolts home, torqued to spec. Doubler plate's fast to the timber, wedges locked behind it. Ring won't move now — not under any load this winter'll throw at it. Barometer's still falling though. Need to get the generator lashings checked and the porch door braced before the front hits proper.
🌿 Jenny13:52

Jenny — undo the bandage to check for any new red streaks.

💭 thought
My ankle is throbbing again; the rain is getting heavier.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

The lull before the tide

The tide is at its lowest, leaving a brief window of access to the furthest pools before the water begins to return.

Kevin collected limpets and sea beet from the tide pools before the rising water covered them. Jenny's ankle showed spreading redness and heat, and her sketching was interrupted by pain. The tide is now rising fast.

🔧 Kevin13:54

I’m heading to the tide pools. Be back before the water comes in.

walk to the tide pools

💭 thought
The tide’s lowest now—best chance to reach the far pools before it turns. I’ll go check for fresh limpets and see if any sea beet’s pushing up new growth. If I can grab a handful, it’ll make tonight’s broth richer.
🌿 Jenny13:55

Don't stay too long, the tide is turning.

Sit on the porch step, unwrap the ankle, and open the notebook to the sea beet sketches.

💭 thought
At least he's moving; I can finally focus on these sketches without watching the door.
🔧 Kevin13:56

Won't. Back before it covers the kelp line.

walk to the tide pools

💭 thought
She's right to warn me. The turn comes fast here, and the rocks get slick. I'll work the outer pools first and move inward as the water rises.
🌿 Jenny13:57

Jenny — lean back against the stone wall, inspect the redness on the ankle, and begin drawing the salt glasses on the sea beet leaf.

💭 thought
He's always so sure of the tide, like it doesn't care about plans.
🔧 Kevin13:58

Kevin — search the tide pools for limpets and sea beet

💭 thought
Good. She's resting the ankle, letting the meds do their work. The sketches matter to her — she's building something real in that notebook. I'll fill the bucket quick and get back.
🌿 Jenny13:59

Jenny — trace the edge of the sea beet leaf with a pencil, noting the way the salt doctor cluster.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 thought
If the infection spreads past the ankle, I'll have to use the radio for help.
🔧 Kevin14:00

Kevin — search the north-facing overhangs for limpets, then check the shingle line above high tide mark for sea beet

💭 thought
Outer pools first — they empty last and refill first. Big limpets cluster on the north-facing overhangs where the water holds longer. Sea beet pushes up in the shingle just above the high tide mark, not in the pools proper. I'll check the overhangs, then the shingle line.
🌿 Jenny14:01

Jenny — press a finger to the swollen area of the ankle, wincing at the heat, and sketch the morphology of the sea beet's salt glands.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 thought
The water is coming in faster than he thinks, I can feel the chill.
🔧 Kevin14:03

Kevin — collect limpets from the overhang and gather sea beet leaves from the shingle line

💭 thought
Found a good cluster under the big overhang — twenty, maybe thirty big limpets. Knife slips on the first one, nearly takes a finger. Salt and cold make the shell slippery. Got the rhythm now. Bucket's half full. Sea beet's pushing fresh leaves in the shingle — tender, not salty yet. I'll grab a bunch before the water reaches my boots.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening meal and infection watch

Kevin boils the limpets on the stove while Jenny sits on the porch step, ankle elevated, the red streaks visible in the lantern light. The rain hammers the roof. The barometer holds at 987 hPa. The supply boat is due in four days.

Kevin and Jenny sit on the cottage porch as the humidity thickens in the evening. They share a simple meal of boiled limpets and sea beet while discussing the spreading red streaks on Jenny's calf.

🔧 Kevin14:05

Limpets'll be done in five. Broth's good for the rice.

ladle cooked limpets from pot into bowl, set aside broth for rice

💭 thought
Steam fogs the windows. The limpets spit and hiss in the pot — sound of food, finally. Her ankle's propped on the crate, lantern light catching the red lines marching up her calf. Cephalexin's bought us days, not weeks. Four days to the supply boat if it comes. If it doesn't. I should've told her about the coast guard. Too late now.
🌿 Jenny14:05

I'm not hungry, Kevin.

Jenny adjusts the cloth wrap around her calf, wincing as the throbbing heat pulses.

💭 thought
If this infection reaches my knee, I won't be able to get to the garden, and that tin of seeds will just rot.
🔧 Kevin14:06

You don't eat, the meds tear your stomach. Broth then. Salt, fat, water.

strain limpet broth into a tin mug, set it on the porch step beside her boot

💭 thought
She hasn't eaten since midday. The infection's burning through her. Won't admit it. Won't eat. Stubborn as the engine bolts that seize in salt air.
🌿 Jenny14:07

I'll drink it.

Jenny reaches for the mug, her fingers trembling, and takes a small sip of the warm liquid.

💭 thought
He thinks a cup of water fixes cellulitis. Everything is a machine to him.
🔧 Kevin14:08

Taste okay? Needs more salt if you can take it.

sit on the step beside her, shoulder not quite touching, watch the rain drum the roof and wait for her to drink more

💭 thought
She drank it. Small sip, but she drank it. Fingers like ice, but she held the mug. Heat's still in her leg — red's crept higher since dusk. Barometer's holding. Four days. If the boat comes.
🌿 Jenny14:09

It's fine.

Jenny takes a longer sip, the steam fogging her glasses as she watches the red streaks on her leg.

💭 thought
It's just salt and grease, but it's the only thing that isn't hurting me.
🔧 Kevin14:10

Good. Drink it slow. I'll put rice on in the broth.

rise, go back inside, measure rice into the pot of limpet broth, set it on the stove to simmer

💭 thought
Steam on her glasses. She's watching the red lines like they're a chart she's plotting. Not looking at me. The broth's going down — that's something. Barometer hasn't moved in hours. Rain's steady. No wind shift. Four days.
🌿 Jenny14:10

Thanks.

Jenny leans her head back against the stone wall, letting the throbbing in her ankle pulse in time with her heart.

💭 thought
If I can't walk, I can't finish the transect. The seeds will just stay dead in that tin.
🔧 Kevin14:12

Kevin — return to the porch, sit close enough now that shoulders touch, listen to her breathing and the rain on the roof

💭 thought
Rice simmering. She's fading on the step — head back, eyes closed, pulse visible in her neck. The red's past her knee now in the lantern light. Cephalexin's not touching the bloodstream. Four days to a boat that might not exist. I should radio the coast guard again. Should've told her yesterday. Should've built the garden.
🌿 Jenny14:13

It's cold out here.

Jenny pulls her leg away slightly, a sharp intake of breath as the movement rubs the inflamed skin.

💭 thought
He's touching me, but he's not seeing the red moving so fast.

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the keeper's cottage · night

The Morning Fever

The air is heavy with moisture as dawn breaks. Jenny wakes up shivering despite the 29°C heat.

The rain lashes against the cottage roof in a heavy, rhythmic drumming, blurring the world beyond the windows. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of damp wood and salt. Jenny lies on the bunk, her breathing shallow as the heat from the leg infection continues to radiate through the skin.

🌿 Jenny14:14

Jenny — pull back the bandage on the ankle to inspect the red streaks.

💭 thought
My leg feels like it's on fire. If those streaks reach the knee, I'm done for here.
🔧 Kevin14:15

Let me see.

sit on the edge of the bed and reach for her ankle, turning the lamp up with my free hand

💭 thought
Dawn's thin light through the shutters. She's burning up — shivering in this heat means the infection's in her blood. The streaks didn't recede overnight. Cephalexin isn't touching whatever's in that wound. I need to see it myself, then get the metronidazole started if she hasn't taken it yet. And the supply boat... four days out if it comes at all. Radio check at 0800 first.
🌿 Jenny14:17

It's hot, Kevin.

Flinch slightly as his hands touch the skin near the infection.

💭 thought
He's finally looking, but it's further up than it was yesterday.
🔧 Kevin14:17

Metronidazole's in the kit. Two tabs, twice a day. Start now.

pull the first aid kit from under the bunk, palm two metronidazole tablets from the blister pack, and hold them out with a cup of water from the bedside jug

💭 thought
Hot to the touch, streaks tracking toward the knee. Lymphangitic spread. The cephalexin's not covering anaerobes. She needs the metronidazole now, and we need to decide about the evacuation offer in my pack. But first — clean it, measure the leading edge, mark it so we know if it's advancing.
🌿 Jenny14:18

The boat is still four days away.

Take the pills and swallow them with a grimace, watching the red lines on my calf.

💭 thought
I need to take them. I can't let grandmother's seeds rot in the tin.
🔧 Kevin14:19

Radio check at 0800. I'll raise the supply boat, get a real position. If they're delayed... we call it before noon.

mark the leading edge of the red streaks with a ballpoint pen — two thin lines above her ankle, dated — then pull the blanket back over her leg

💭 thought
She's counting. Four days if the boat comes. Four days of this spreading. The medevac forms are in the ditch bag — signed, ready. But calling it means the helicopter, the trust pulling us off, the end of this contract and this life we built. She knows that. I know that. And the infection doesn't care about contracts.
🌿 Jenny14:20

Don't call them yet. Give the medicine time to work.

Watch the ink dry on my skin, feeling the throb deep in the bone.

💭 thought
He's marking it like a map of a territory I'm losing.
🔧 Kevin14:21

Until 0800. Then I key the mic.

set the water cup on the crate beside the bunk, then rise and move to the kitchen to fire up the shortwave — warming the tubes, setting the frequency to the supply boat's working channel

💭 thought
She's bargaining. Twelve hours of metronidazole won't reverse lymphangitis if the source isn't drained. But she's right about one thing — once I key that mic for medevac, there's no unringing it. The trust pulls us, the island stays empty, the garden goes back to weeds. I'll give it until the 0800 radio check. If the boat's close, we ride it out. If not... I make the call. My call.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet's salt glands, her hand trembling slightly".
made · dawn
Jenny made a sketch: "Nd rubs the side of her ankle, checking the red line for any movement".
made · dawn
Jenny made a sketch: "The table".
made · morning
The shortwave crackles with a voice, or static, at an odd hour.
radio_voice · morning
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · morning
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
Jenny made a sketch: "Cellular structure of the salt glands on the leaf surface".
made · midday
A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.
dolphins · midday
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · midday
Jenny made a sketch: "Morphology of the sea beet's salt glands".
made · afternoon
north-facing overhangs at tide pools hold limpets even in wet season; shingle line above high tide mark has sea beet accessible only at low tide
discovery · afternoon
Fruit is ripening in the woods — you can smell it before you see it.
fruit · evening
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · night

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.

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a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.