And Then You Die

by Iris Johansen

  Kaldak was silent.

  He wasn't happy, Esteban realized with satisfaction. Good. Perhaps he should have let Kaldak do his job, but the lack of subservience stung him. Besides, it didn't really matter.

  It would all come down to the same thing anyway.

  “Are you coming back to camp?” Kaldak asked.

  “No, I'll stay here for a while.”

  He turned back to the hills as Kaldak drove off. He didn't want to be distracted by the men at camp. He had decided it wasn't safe for him to go into Tenajo, but the anticipation was almost as good. He had set the plan in motion, now he deserved this time to savor. Habin with his political causes didn't really know the true meaning of what he was doing.

  Excitement surged through him as he realized that even at that moment it was going on.

  The night was clear, no tempest clouds were swirling over those distant hills. Yet he could almost see the Dark Beast hovering, toying with Tenajo.

  Holy Virgin, help them. Their immortal souls are writhing in Satan's fire.

  Father Juan knelt at the altar, his gaze fixed desperately on the golden crucifix above him.

  He had been in Tenajo for forty-four years and his flock had always listened before. Why would they not listen to him now in this supreme test?

  He could hear them in the square outside the church, shouting, singing, laughing. He had gone out and told them they should be in their homes at this time of night, but it had done no good. They had only offered to share the evil with him.

  He would not take it. He would stay inside the church.

  And he would pray that Tenajo would survive.

  “You slept well,” Emily told Bess. “You look more rested.”

  “I'll be even more rested by the time we leave here.” She met Emily's gaze. “I'm fine. So back off.”

  Emily smiled. “Eat your breakfast. Rico is already packing up the jeep.”

  “I'll go help him.”

  “It's going to be all right, isn't it? We're going to have a good time here.”

  “If you can keep yourself from––” Oh, what the hell. She wouldn't let this time be spoiled. “You bet. We're going to have a great time.”

  “And you're glad I came,” Emily prompted.

  “I'm glad you came.”

  Emily winked. “Gotcha.”

  Bess was still smiling as she reached the jeep.

  “Ah, you're happy. You slept well?” Rico asked.

  She nodded as she stowed her canvas camera case in the jeep. Her gaze went to the hills. “How long has it been since you've been in Tenajo?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “That's a long time. Is your family still there?”

  “Just my mother.”

  “Don't you miss her?”

  “I talk to her on the phone every week.” He frowned. “My brother and I are doing very well. We could give her a fine apartment in the city, but she would not come. She says it would not be home to her.”

  She had clearly struck a sore spot. “Evidently someone thinks Tenajo is a wonderful place or Condé Nast wouldn't have sent me.”

  “Maybe for those who don't have to live there. What does my mother have? Nothing. Not even a washing machine. The people live as they did fifty years ago.” He violently slung the last bag into the jeep. “It is the priest's fault. Father Juan has convinced her the city is full of wickedness and greed and she should stay in Tenajo. Stupid old man. There's nothing wrong with having a few comforts.”

  He was hurting, Bess realized, and she didn't know what to say.

  “Maybe I can persuade my mother to come back with me,” Rico added.

  “I hope so.” The words sounded lame even to her. Great, Bess. She searched for some other way to help. “Would you like me to take her photograph? Maybe the two of you together?”

  His face lit up. “That would be good. I've only a snapshot my brother took four years ago.” He paused. “Maybe you could tell her how well I'm doing in Mexico City. How all the clients ask just for me?” He hurried on: “It would not be a lie. I'm very much in demand.”

  Her lips twitched. “I'm sure you are.” She got into the jeep. “Particularly among the ladies.”

  He smiled boyishly. “Yes, the ladies are very kind to me. But it would be wiser not to mention that to my mother. She would not understand.”

  “I'll try to remember,” she said solemnly.

  “Ready?” Emily had walked to the jeep, and was now handing Rico the box containing the cooking implements. “Let's go. With any luck we'll be in Tenajo by two and I'll be swinging in a hammock by four. I can't wait. I'm sure it's paradise on earth.”

  Two

  Tenajo was not paradise.

  It was just a town baking in the afternoon sun. From the hilltop overlooking the town Bess could see a picturesque fountain in the center of the wide cobblestone plaza bordered on three sides by adobe buildings. At the far end of the plaza was a small church.

  “Pretty, isn't it?” Emily stood up in the jeep. “Where's the local inn, Rico?”

  He pointed at a street off the main thoroughfare. “It's very small but clean.”

  Emily sighed blissfully. “My hammock is almost in view, Bess.”

  “I doubt if you could nap with all that caterwauling,” Bess said dryly. “You didn't mention the coyotes, Rico. I don't think that––” She stiffened. Oh, God, no. Not coyotes.

  Dogs.

  She had heard that sound before.

  Those were dogs howling. Dozens of dogs. And their mournful wail was coming from the streets below her.

  Bess started to shake.

  “What is it?” Emily asked. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing.” It couldn't be. It was her imagination. How many times had she awakened in the middle of the night to the howling of those phantom dogs?

  “Don't tell me nothing. Are you sick?” Emily demanded.

  It wasn't her imagination.

  “Danzar.” She moistened her lips. “It's crazy but–– We have to hurry. Hurry, Rico.”

  Rico stomped on the accelerator, and the jeep careened down the road toward the village.

  They didn't see the first body until they were inside the town. A woman lay curled in the shadow of the fountain.

  Emily grabbed her medical bag, jumped out of the jeep, and bent over the woman. “Dead.”

  Bess had known she was dead.

  “Why is she just lying here?” Emily asked. “Why didn't someone help her?”

  Bess got out of the jeep. “Go find your mother, Rico. Right now. Bring her here.”

  “What's happening?” Rico whispered.

  “I don't know.” It was the truth. This wasn't Danzar. What had happened there couldn't happen here. “Just find your mother.”

  He roared off down the street.

  Bess turned back to Emily. “How did she die?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don't know. No marks of violence.”

  “Disease?”

  Emily shrugged. “I can't tell, not without tests. What do you know about this?”

  “I don't know anything.” She tried to steady her voice. “But I think there will be others. The howling . . .” She hurried toward the cantina across from the fountain. “Bring your bag and come with me.”

  They found four bodies in the cantina. Two young men were slumped at a table, a pile of chips and money in front of them. An old man lay behind the bar. A woman in a purple dress was crumpled on the stairs.

  Emily went from one to the other.

  “All dead?” Bess asked.

  Emily nodded. “Come here.” She opened her bag, drew out a face mask and rubber gloves, and handed them to Bess. “Put them on.”

  Bess slipped on the mask and gloves. “You think it's contagious?”

  “It won't hurt to be careful.” She moved toward the door.

  “How did you know?”

  “The dogs. When I was in Danzar, we heard the dogs howling from miles away. Everyone in the
village had been butchered by the guerrillas.”

  “Everyone,” Emily echoed. She straightened her shoulders. “Well, none of these people died of wounds, and I won't believe everyone is dead just because some stupid dogs are yapping. Come on, let's find someone who can tell us what happened.”

  They found no one in the first house they entered. Two dead in the shop next door. A woman behind the counter and a little boy curled on the floor. Chocolate malt balls were scattered beside him. More candy was clutched in his hand.

  His hands were smeared with chocolate, Bess thought dully. Children loved sweets. When her niece, Julie, was younger, she'd had a passion for M&M's and Bess had always brought her––

  “What the hell are you doing?” Emily asked.

  Bess looked down at the camera with which she'd just shot a picture of Emily and the little boy.

  Focus.

  Shoot.

  Danzar again.

  But she didn't have to take pictures here. There would be no secrets or hidden mass graves. “I don't know.” She stuffed the camera in her vest.

  “Stop crying.”

  She hadn't known she was weeping. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Whatever happened here, it happened quickly. Most people go home when they become ill.”

  Emily rose to her feet. “Maybe some of them did. I'll have to find out. It's crazy. I've never heard of a fatal outbreak like this except maybe Ebola.”

  Bess froze. “Ebola? In Mexico?”

  “I didn't say that's what it is. There are all kinds of new viruses springing up, and, for all I know, it could be some contaminant in the drinking water. Maybe cholera. Outbreaks are still too frequent here in Mexico.” She shook her head. “But I've never heard of it attacking with this kind of totality and swiftness, and I don't see signs of vomiting or diarrhea. I just don't know.” She went behind the counter and picked up the receiver of the telephone on the wall. “Whatever it is, we need help. I'm not qualified to diagnose––” She hung up. “No dial tone. Great. We'll have to try the next house.”

  In the next house they found no dead, but the telephone there didn't work either. “I want you to leave Tenajo,” Emily told Bess.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I didn't think you'd go, but I had to try.” Emily shrugged. “We've probably already been exposed anyway. Let's go see if we can find any survivors.”

  During the next three hours they found forty-three dead. A good many were in their own homes. In their beds, in their kitchens, in their bathrooms.

  And they found Rico's mother.

  She lay on a faded sofa and Rico knelt on the floor beside her, holding her hand.

  “Oh, damn,” Bess whispered.

  “There wasn't any use bringing her to you,” Rico said numbly. “She's dead. My mother's dead.”

  “You shouldn't be touching her,” Emily said gently. “We don't know what killed her.”

  “Father Juan killed her. He made her stay here.”

  Emily opened her bag and pulled out a mask and gloves. “Put them on.”

  He ignored her.

  “Rico, you need to––”

  “He killed her. If she'd been in the city, I could have taken her to the hospital.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “It was the priest.”

  Bess stepped in front of him. “Rico, it's not––”

  He knocked her aside and ran out of the house.

  “You keep looking,” Bess tossed over her shoulder to Emily as she started after Rico. “I'll go after him.”

  Why was she even bothering? she wondered. The priest was probably dead too. Like everyone else in Tenajo.

  God, she wished those dogs would stop howling.

  Rico was standing over the priest when she burst into the church.

  “Get away from him, Rico.”

  Rico didn't move.

  She pushed him aside and knelt by the priest. He was gasping for breath but was still alive, she saw with relief.

  “Did you hit him?”

  Rico shook his head.

  “Get me some water.”

  Rico didn't move.

  “Get it,” she said fiercely.

  He turned reluctantly and moved toward the holy water by the door.

  She didn't think the water would do any good, but it got Rico temporarily away from the priest. “Father Juan, can you speak? We need to know what happened here. Do you know if anyone else is still alive?”

  The priest's eyes opened. “The root . . . the root . . .”

  Was he saying they had been poisoned? Perhaps Emily's guess about the contaminant was right.

  “What happened here? What killed those people?”

  “The root . . .”

  “Let him die.” Rico was back beside her.

  “Where's the water?”

  His gaze was fixed on the priest's face. “It doesn't matter. He doesn't need it now.”

  Bess looked at the priest.

  Rico was right. The priest was dead.

  “What's the closest village to Tenajo?”

  “Besamaro. Forty miles.”

  “I want you to drive to Besamaro and phone the public health officials. Tell them there's a problem here. Try to stay away from everyone as much as possible in case you're contaminated.”

  Rico was still glaring down at the priest, his face twisted with rage. “He killed my mother. Him and all his talk of the glory of poverty and humility.” He kicked viciously at the poor box lying next to Father Juan and sent it skidding across the floor to lodge beneath a pew. “I'm glad he's dead.”

  “You may be dead too if you don't get help,” she said. “You're young. Do you want to die, Rico?”

  That broke through to him. “No, I'll go to Besamaro.” He walked out of the church, and a moment later she heard the roar of the jeep.

  She probably shouldn't have sent him away. He might spread the contagion. But what else was she supposed to do? They couldn't handle this nightmare by themselves.

  The priest's eyes were open, staring up at her. Death. So much horror and death. Shuddering, she stood. She had to get back to Emily. Emily might need her.

  To search for more dead. No, they were searching for the living. She had to remember that. There might still be life in this hideous place.

  The sun was descending as she paused on the top step. Blood-red. Death red.

  She sank down on the step and wrapped her arms about herself. She was ice cold and couldn't stop shaking. In one minute she would go back to Emily. She would take just this one minute for herself. She needed the time to prepare for the night ahead and to be as strong as Emily.

  Wouldn't those dogs ever stop wailing?

  Danzar.

  This wasn't Danzar. But what if it were?

  The dead. A town cut off from communication. The first thing the guerrillas had done at Danzar was cut the telephone lines.

  But Tenajo wasn't war-torn Croatia. It was a small Mexican town in the back of beyond. There was no reason for it to be destroyed.

  But had there been any real reason for Danzar?

  Stop it. It's all supposition. You don't have to do this.

  But who else was here to do it? What if her instincts were right? Was she going to turn her back and walk away? Maybe a few pictures . . .

  Just in case.

  She slowly stood up and took her camera out of her vest. She immediately felt a rush of confidence, a sense of rightness. Just a few pictures and then she'd go back to Emily.

  Just in case.

  The woman lying by the fountain, staring at the sky with blind, dead eyes.

  Focus.

  Shoot.

  Move on.

  The bartender in the cantina.

  Focus.

  Shoot.

  The old woman curled up beside a rosebush in her garden.

  Dead. So many dead.

  Was she still taking pictures? Yes, the shutter was clicking as if by its own volition.

  She wanted to stop. She
couldn't stop.

  Oh, God, two small boys lying together in a hammock. They looked like they were asleep.

  She staggered to the side of the house and threw up. She leaned against a wall, her cold cheek pressed against the sunwarmed adobe. Shudder after shudder convulsed her body.

  It only seemed as if the entire world was dead. But she was alive. Emily was alive. Hold on to that truth.

  She would go find her sister and help her. She would pretend to be as strong and brave as Emily.

  She mustn't let Emily see how terrified she was.

  Emily wasn't at Rico's mother's house.

  No, of course she wouldn't wait for Bess to return. She would go on and do her job. No weakness. No hesitation.

  Bess went back out into the street. It was dark now. “Emily.”

  Silence.

  She walked one block, two.

  “Emily.”

  The dogs howled. Did one of them belong to the little boy in the store?

  Don't think of him. It's easier when you don't remember them as individuals. She had found that out after Danzar. “Emily.”

  Where was she? Panic suddenly soared through Bess. What if Emily were ill? What if Emily were lying in one of those houses unconscious and unable to call out?

  “Emily!”

  “Here.” Emily came out of the house two doors up the street. “I've found someone.”

  Relief poured through Bess as she hurried to her sister. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course,” Emily said impatiently. “I've found a baby. Everyone else in the house is dead, but the baby is alive. Come on.”

  Bess followed her inside. “Why would the baby live?”

  Emily shook her head. “I'm just glad to find someone who did.” She led Bess toward a crib covered by mosquito netting. “If the disease is airborne, the netting might have protected her.”

  The baby was a plump little girl, not over twelve months, with curly black hair and tiny gold hoops in her ears. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was deep and steady.

  “Are you sure she's not ill?”

  “I think so. She woke up a minute ago and smiled at me. Beautiful, isn't she?”

  “Yes.” Beautiful, cuddly, and wonderfully alive.