She knew because she had seen it many times before and she knew because Salem was not looking at her, but looking past her, like she was on the other side of a two-way mirror. She had never been so close to someone succumbing to the virus before and never watched someone she loved in the act of dying. Lucy wiped her hand across Salem’s brow and her friend’s skin was on fire, clumps of her dark hair stuck to her forehead. A small trickle of blood started dripping from Salem’s left nostril and without thinking, without regard for her own safety, Lucy wiped the blood away with her bare hand; she only succeeded in smearing it down across Salem’s cheek. “Hey, Sal. Come on…please look at me. Sal?” Salem was trying to talk and Lucy cradled her head, lifting her up into her nap, but Salem groaned and shook her head. Lucy set her head back down onto Leland’s kitchen floor. “Give it to me,” Lucy cried over her shoulder.
