the keeper's cottage · day 442 · afternoon

Waiting for a Sign

Kevin and Jenny are in the keeper's cottage at midday. Jenny lies on the bed with her ankle elevated, tracing the infection's progress. Kevin sits at the table, notebook open, watching the silent radio for any reply from the Coastguard. The air is still and overcast, the barometer steady at 983 hPa.

The rain has shifted from a driving lashing to a heavy drumming against the tin roof of the cottage. The air is thick with the smell of wet earth and salt. While Jenny's fever remains high and the red streaks on her ankle have climbed another inch toward her knee, the tide is rising steadily, pushing the surf against the lower dock pilings.

🔧 Kevin02:01

How's the head?

reach over and press the back of my hand to her forehead, checking temperature

💭 peek at the thought

She's counting the red lines like I count engine hours. Three doses of doxycycline down, five to go. Metronidazole's holding but the streaking's past the knee now. Radio's been quiet since the medevac call — Coastguard either didn't copy or they're deciding if we're worth the fuel. Supply boat's two days out if she shows. I should check the transom at slack, but I'm not leaving her alone with this fever climbing.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny02:01

Hot. Everything's hot.

Shift away from his touch and press the cold seed tin against my temple.

💭 peek at the thought

His hand is like ice. My skin feels like it's on fire.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin02:03

Tin's for planting.

let her hold it there a moment, then reach for the tin mug of water with the doxycycline tablet ready

💭 peek at the thought

The tin's cold through the tape seal. She's using my own trick on me — seeds against skin for fever. Stubborn as a seized bolt.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny02:03

Not yet. Right now.

Take the pill from his hand and swallow with a painful gulp, wincing as the movement makes my ankle throb.

💭 peek at the thought

Everything is a project to him. Even the seeds I'm too scared to use.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin02:05

Lie still. I'll check the radio log.

set the mug down, pull the radio notebook closer, scan the last entry — 0400 medevac request, position, symptoms, no reply logged — then key the mic on 16

💭 peek at the thought

She took it dry. Throat's raw from fever. Four doses down. The streaking hasn't slowed but it hasn't accelerated either. That's something.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny02:05

They aren't coming today.

Close my eyes and focus on the rain hitting the tin roof, trying to ignore the heat radiating from my leg.

💭 peek at the thought

The radio is just static and hope. He thinks the act of checking will make it happen.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin02:07

Didn't say they were. Said I'd check.

release the mic, let the static fill the silence, then reach for the damp cloth on the nightstand to wipe her face and neck

💭 peek at the thought

She's probably right. Coastguard launch out of St. Mary's needs four hours in this swell, and they'd have launched by now if they were coming. Which means we hold the line here. Next supply boat's the real window — two days if she keeps schedule. That's six more doses. Keep the leg elevated, keep the fluids down, watch for confusion or rigors. If she spikes tonight, I'll key the mic again regardless.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny02:07

I know.

Reach under the sheets to touch the red line moving up my thigh, feeling how far it has traveled since morning.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so clinical with the log. Like I'm just another entry in the book.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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