“Travis Anderson.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was something close to a squawk.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Nathan moaned and tried again. “It’s me,” he croaked.
“Nathan? Wow, you sound bad.”
He nodded, hoping his law partner and friend, Travis, could see his silent agreement so he wouldn’t waste his last breath.
“Nathan?”
Damn.
“I’m sick.”
Travis chuckled. “Yes, I gathered as much. You don’t have the swine flu, do you? Or whatever we’re supposed to call it.”
“I’m sure it’s much worse. Malaria. Or Ebola.”
“Ebola?” His friend sounded much too amused for the serious situation. “Are you hemorrhaging from different orifices?”
He was sure he must be. It felt like he was. Nathan glanced down the bed at his pain-wracked body. “Well, no.”
“Did you call a doctor?”
“I almost called 9-1-1,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be charged with falsifying an emergency.” He closed his eyes. “I think it’s either just the regular flu or food poisoning.”