I felt a moment’s resistance as the point pierced the lizard-skin stomacher, then a slow, easy slide as I sliced into his bowels. The blow forced him back against the edge of the one of the tables and his eyes widened.
I leaned into the sword, putting my weight behind it, forcing the point deeper into his belly and ripping up until it grated on the breastbone. His eyes widened, his mouth moved, but only blood came out to run down the beaten gold gorget of the god Quetzalcoatl. I eased the pressure and he slumped to the floor, my sword still in him.
I leaned back against the wall, my chest heaving. The cuts on my legs were bleeding profusely, my shoulder was still numb with pain, but there was more blood running down my right arm and that side of the chest. My left wrist was throbbing as if I had sprained it. All in all, I looked like the victim of a particularly inept sacrificial priest. But I was alive, and right now that felt better than being crowned Emperor Himself.
“Well done, young sir,” came an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway, “well done indeed.”
Foureagle came stumping into the room, accompanied by five or six hard-looking men. “I trust you have recovered the missing items.”
I gestured towards the still figures on the tables. “In there. One in each.”
The old man bent over the nearest table and examined its burden. “Ah, yes. Ingenious and even, perhaps, theologically sound—from Toltectecuhtli’s perspective, of course.”
“What will you do with them?” Not that I really cared.
“Why, return them to the huetlacoatls, of course. Oh, you mean the people? We will save them, if we can.” He gestured to the men behind him and they disappeared down the corridor.
“You look as if you could use some tending to yourself.” He laid his hands, oddly gentle, on my shoulder, testing the wound. “Yes, we must get that attended to. But not here. Can you walk? Ah, excellent. I am afraid this place will shortly suffer an unfortunate accident. A fire, I believe.” He looked around appraisingly, nodded, and stroked his chin. “Yes, I think a fire will do nicely.”
He half-supported me as he guided me towards the door. “But I do hope you will come and visit me. After you have healed, of course. We have so much to discuss. Your future, for example, and perhaps some additional employment. Yes, I think we must discuss that, young sir.”
I thought about how I would explain working for the Emperor’s Shadow to Uncle Tlaloc. Then I thought about Uncle Tlaloc’s probable reaction. Then I thought about what Foureagle certainly would do to me if I refused. Turning of the cycle or not, my luck hadn’t changed.
With that thought, I let them guide me down the corridor and out into the piss-warm rain of night.
PATIENT ZERO
Tananarive Due
Tananarive Due has been making a name for herself as a horror writer in the course of the last few years, but only this year has she begun to venture into science fiction as well, with sales to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction and Dark Matter. In the chilling and deceptively quiet story that follows, she paints a heartrending portrait of a life spent in ever-increasing isolation in an ever-darkening world.
Tananarive Due’s books include the horror novels The Between and My Soul to Keep, which were both finalists for the Bram Stoker Award. Her most recent book is a sequel to My Soul to Keep, called The Living Blood. Upcoming is a memoir about Florida’s civil rights movement, Freedom in the Family, written with her mother, Patricia Stephens Due. She lives in Longview, Washington, with her husband, SF writer Steven Barnes.
September 19
THE PICTURE CAME! Veronica tapped on my glass and woke me up, and she held it up for me to see. It’s autographed and everything! For you, Veronica mouthed at me, and she smiled a really big smile. The autograph says, TO JAY—I’LL THROW A TOUCHDOWN FOR YOU. I couldn’t believe it. Everybody is laughing at me because of the way I yelled and ran in circles around my room until I fell on the floor and scraped my elbow. The janitor, Lou, turned on the intercom box outside my door and said, “Kid, you gone crazier than usual? What you care about that picture for?”
Don’t they know Dan Marino is the greatest quarterback of all time? I taped the picture to the wall over my bed. On the rest of my wall I have maps of the United States, and the world, and the solar system. I can find Corsica on the map, and the Palau Islands, which most people have never heard of, and I know what order all the planets are in. But there’s nothing else on my wall like Dan Marino. That’s the best. The other best thing I have is the cassette tape from that time the President called me on the telephone when I was six. He said, “Hi, is Jay there? This is the President of the United States.” He sounded just like on TV. My heart flipped, because it’s so weird to hear the President say your name. I couldn’t think of anything to say back. He asked me how I was feeling, and I said I was fine. That made him laugh, like he thought I was making a joke. Then his voice got real serious, and he said everyone was praying and thinking about me, and he hung up. When I listen to that tape now, I wish I had thought of something else to say. I used to think he might call me another time, but it only happened once, in the beginning. So I guess I’ll never have a chance to talk to the President again.
After Veronica gave me my picture of Marino, I asked her if she could get somebody to fix my TV so I can see the football games. All my TV can play is videos. Veronica said there aren’t any football games, and I started to get mad because I hate it when they lie. It’s September, I said, and there’s always football games in September. But Veronica told me the NFL people had a meeting and decided not to have football any more, and maybe it would start again, but she wasn’t sure, because nobody except me was thinking about football. At first, after she said that, it kind of ruined the autograph, because it seemed like Dan Marino must be lying, too. But Veronica said he was most likely talking about throwing a touchdown for me in the future, and I felt better then.
This notebook is from Ms Manigat, my tutor, who is Haitian. She said I should start writing down my thoughts and everything that happens to me. I said I don’t have any thoughts, but she said that was ridiculous. That is her favourite word, ridiculous.
Oh, I should say I’m ten today. If I were in a regular school, I would be in fifth grade like my brother was. I asked Ms Manigat what grade I’m in, and she said I don’t have a grade. I read like I’m in seventh grade and I do maths like I’m in fourth grade, she says. She says I don’t exactly fit anywhere, but I’m very smart. Ms Manigat comes every day, except on weekends. She is my best friend, but I have to call her Ms Manigat instead of using her first name, which is Emmeline, because she is so proper. She is very neat and wears skirts and dresses, and everything about her is very clean except her shoes, which are dirty. Her shoes are supposed to be white, but whenever I see her standing outside of the glass, when she hasn’t put on her plastic suit yet, her shoes look brown and muddy.
Those are my thoughts.
September 20
I had a question today. Veronica never comes on Fridays, and the other nurse, Rene, isn’t as nice as she is, so I waited for Ms Manigat. She comes at one. I said, “You know how they give sick children their last wish when they’re dying? Well, when Dr Ben told me to think of the one thing I wanted for my birthday, I said I wanted an autograph from Dan Marino, so does that mean I’m dying and they’re giving me my wish?” I said this really fast.
I thought Ms Manigat would say I was being ridiculous. But she smiled. She put her hand on top of my head, and her hand felt stiff and heavy inside her big glove. “Listen, little old man,” she said, which is what she calls me because she says I do so much worrying, “You’re a lot of things, but you aren’t dying. When everyone can be as healthy as you, it’ll be a happy day.”
The people here always seems to be waiting, and I don’t know what for. I thought maybe they were waiting for me to die. But I believe Ms Manigat. If she doesn’t want to tell me something, she just says, “Leave it alone, Jay,” which is her way of letting me k
now she would rather not say anything at all than ever tell a lie.
October 5
The lights in my room started going on and off again today, and it got so hot I had to leave my shirt off until I went to bed. Ms Manigat couldn’t do her lessons the way she wanted because of the lights not working right. She said it was the emergency generator. I asked her what the emergency was, and she said something that sounded funny: “Same old same old.” That was all she said. I asked her if the emergency generator was the reason Dr Ben took the television out of my room, and she said yes. She said everyone is conserving energy, and I have to do my part, too. But I miss my videos. There is nothing at all to do when I can’t watch my videos. I hate it when I’m bored. Sometimes I’ll even watch videos I’ve seen a hundred times, really a hundred times. I’ve seen Big with Tom Hanks more times than any other video. I love the part in the toy store with the really big piano keys on the floor. My mom taught me how to play Three Blind Mice on our piano at home, and it reminds me of that. I’ve never seen a toy store like the one in Big. I thought it was just a made-up place, but Ms Manigat said it was a real toy store in New York.
I miss my videos. When I’m watching them, it’s like I’m inside the movie, too. I hope Dr Ben will bring my TV back soon.
October 22
I made Veronica cry yesterday. I didn’t mean to. Dr Ben said he knows it was an accident, but I feel very sorry, so I’ve been crying too. What happened is, I was talking to her, and she was taking some blood out of my arm with a needle like always. I was telling her about how me and my Dad used to watch Marino play on television, and then all of a sudden she was crying really hard.
She dropped the needle on the floor and she was holding her wrist like she broke it. She started swearing. She said Goddammit, goddammit, Goddammit, over and over, like that. I asked her what happened, and she pushed me away like she wanted to knock me over. Then she went to the door and punched the number code really fast and she pulled on the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t open, and I heard something in her arm snap from yanking so hard. She had to do the code again. She was still crying. I’ve never seen her cry.
I didn’t know what happened. I mashed my finger on the buzzer hard, but everybody ignored me. It reminded me of when I first came here, when I was always pushing the buzzer and crying, and nobody would ever come for a long time, and they were always in a bad mood when they came.
Anyway, I waited for Ms Manigat, and when I told her about Veronica, she said she didn’t know anything because she comes from the outside, but she promised to find out. Then she made me recite the Preamble to the Constitution, which I know by heart. Pretty soon, for a little while, I forgot about Veronica.
After my lessons, Ms Manigat left and called me on my phone an hour later, like she promised. She always keeps her promises. My telephone is hooked up so people on the inside can call me, but I can’t call anybody, inside or outside. It hardly ever rings now. But I almost didn’t want to pick it up. I was afraid of what Ms Manigat would say.
“Veronica poked herself,” Ms Manigat told me. “The needle stuck through her hot suit. She told Dr Ben there was sudden movement.”
I wondered who made the sudden movement, Veronica or me?
“Is she OK?” I asked. I thought maybe Ms Manigat was mad at me, because she has told me many times that I should be careful. Maybe I wasn’t being careful when Veronica was here.
“We’ll see, Jay,” Ms Manigat said. From her voice, it sounded like the answer was no.
“Will she get sick?” I asked.
“Probably, yes, they think so,” Ms Manigat said.
I didn’t want her to answer any more questions. I like it when people tell me the truth, but it always makes me feel bad, too. I tried to say I was sorry, but I couldn’t even open my mouth.
“It’s not your fault, Jay,” Ms Manigat said.
I couldn’t help it. I sobbed like I used to when I was still a little kid.
“Veronica knew something like this could happen,” she said.
But that didn’t make anything better, because I remembered how Veronica’s face looked so scared inside her mask, and how she pushed me away. Veronica has been here since almost the beginning, before Ms Manigat came, and she used to smile at me even when nobody else did. When she showed me my picture from Dan Marino, she looked almost as happy as me. I had never seen her whole face smiling like that. She looked so pretty and glad.
I was crying so much I couldn’t even write down my thoughts like Ms Manigat said to. Not until today.
November 4
A long time ago, when I first came here and the TV in my room played programmes from outside, I saw the first-grade picture I had taken at school on TV. I always hated that picture because Mom put some greasy stuff in my hair that made me look like a total geek. And then I turned on the TV and saw that picture on the news! The man on TV said the names of everyone in our family, and even spelled them out on the screen. Then, he called me Patient Zero. He said I was the first person who got sick.
But that wasn’t really what happened. My dad was sick before me. I’ve told them that already. He got it away on his job in Alaska. My dad travelled a lot because he drilled for oil, but he came home early that time. We weren’t expecting him until Christmas, but he came when it was only September, close to my birthday. He said he’d been sent home because some people on his oil crew got sick. One of them had even died. But the doctor in Alaska had looked at my dad and said he was fine, and then his boss sent him home. Dad was really mad about that. He hated to lose money. Time away from a job was always losing money, he said. He was in a bad mood when he wasn’t working.
And the worse thing was, my dad wasn’t fine. After two days, his eyes got red and he started sniffling. Then I did, too. And then my mom and brother.
When the man on TV showed my picture and called me Patient Zero and said I was the first one to get sick, that was when I first learned how people tell lies, because that wasn’t true. Somebody on my dad’s oil rig caught it first, and then he gave it to my dad. And my dad gave it to me, my mom and my brother. But one thing he said was right. I was the only one who got well.
My Aunt Lori came here to live at the lab with me at first, but she wasn’t here long, because her eyes had already turned red by then. She came to help take care of me and my brother before my mom died, but probably she shouldn’t have done that. She lived all the way in California, and I bet she wouldn’t have got sick if she hadn’t come to Miami to be with us. But even my mom’s doctor didn’t know what was wrong then, so nobody could warn her about what would happen if she got close to us. Sometimes I dream I’m calling Aunt Lori on my phone, telling her please, please not to come. Aunt Lori and my mom were twins. They looked exactly alike.
After Aunt Lori died, I was the only one left in my whole family.
I got very upset when I saw that news report. I didn’t like hearing someone talk about my family like that, people who didn’t even know us. And I felt like maybe the man on TV was right, and maybe it was all my fault. I screamed and cried the whole day. After that, Dr Ben made them fix my TV so I couldn’t see the news any more or any programmes from outside, just cartoons and kid movies on video. The only good thing was, when the President called me. I think he was sorry when he heard what happened to my family.
When I ask Dr Ben if they’re still talking about me on the news, he just shrugs his shoulders. Sometimes Dr Ben won’t say yes or no if you ask him a question. It doesn’t matter, though. I think the TV people probably stopped showing my picture a long time ago. I was just a little kid when my family got sick. I’ve been here four whole years! Oh, I almost forgot. Veronica isn’t back yet.
November 7
I have been staring at my Dan Marino picture all day, and I think the handwriting on the autograph looks like Dr Ben’s. But I’m afraid to ask anyone about that. Oh, yeah—and yesterday the power was off in my room for a whole day! Same old same old. That’s what Ms M. would say.
November 12
Ms Manigat is teaching me a little bit about medicine. I told her I want to be a doctor when I grow up, and she said she thinks that’s a wonderful idea because she believes people will always need doctors. She says I will be in a good position to help people, and I asked her if that’s because I have been here so long, and she said yes.
The first thing she taught me is about diseases. She says in the old days, a long time ago, diseases like typhoid used to kill a lot of people because of unsanitary conditions and dirty drinking water, but people got smarter and doctors found drugs to cure it, so diseases didn’t kill people as much any more. Doctors are always trying to stay a step ahead of disease, Ms Manigat says.
But sometimes they can’t. Sometimes a new disease comes. Or, maybe it’s not a new disease, but an old disease that has been hidden for a long time until something brings it out in the open. She said that’s how nature balances the planet, because as soon as doctors find cures for one thing, there is always something new. Dr Ben says my disease is new. There is a long name for it I can’t remember how to spell, but most of the time people here call it Virus-J.
In a way, see, it’s named after me. That’s what Dr Ben said. But I don’t like that.
Ms Manigat said after my dad came home, the virus got in my body and attacked me just like everyone else, so I got really, really sick for a lot of days. Then, I thought I was completely better. I stopped feeling bad at all. But the virus was already in my brother and my mom and dad, and even our doctor from before, Dr Wolfe, and Ms Manigat says it was very aggressive, which means doctors didn’t know how to kill it.
Everybody wears yellow plastic suits and airtight masks when they’re in my room because the virus is still in the air, and it’s in my blood, and it’s on my plates and cups whenever I finish eating. They call the suits hot suits because the virus is hot in my room. Not hot like fire, but dangerous.
Mammoth Book of Best New SF 14 Page 88
