“We can tell them what they don’t know. And help them do what has to be done. We don’t even know if they got Sevita’s message. They may not even know that the Plague is loose. And even if they do, they may be expecting someone else to stop it. The City or some government army. You and I know that no help is coming. We’ve seen the capitol. We’ve seen most of the coast. We know there’s nobody else out there big enough to stop this. We know that we can’t wait. You and I know there’s no cure waiting to be found. That there never was. Even after Sevita’s message, people are going to be desperate enough to look and to hang on to their loved ones. Bottle them up, just like Juliana did, hoping. We know the truth, and we have to make them know it too. That every Infected is a carrier and a danger. That anything from the City is tainted. That it must all be wiped away if anyone is to be safe.”
Frank shook his head. “Why should anyone believe us? We’re the ones that failed to stop it in the first place.”
“We’re the only ones that tried to stop it. And because we saved these people before. They are going to remember us. They are going to remember you. You are the last thing they saw before waking up sane.”
“You’re assuming the same people that we cured are the ones who are in charge still.”
“Yes. I have to assume there’s some chance. The reason we keep going, though both of us have the urge to turn back, though both of us have terrible doubts, is that we have to try. When I worked in the Cure camps I watched people go through agony trying to accept what they’d done while they were ill. I watched you come apart because of what you couldn’t control. You think you’re alone in your guilt, because that’s what the City wanted you to feel. They needed someone to blame, and the Cured were convenient. But the truth is, you may tear yourselves up about what you did, but the Immunes have to live with what they didn’t do. What they didn’t try. Certainly, it was hard to shoot a friend or a loved one, but soon it became normal. Nobody fought it, no one felt guilty after the first few. The Infected weren’t people. They weren’t even animals. They told us you couldn’t be cured, so nobody tried. Nobody did what Juliana did. There were no people in the City that secretly held relatives in the closet or the basement. We didn’t just kill to survive. We hunted the Infected. Took their resources, took their homes, claimed everything for the Immunes. And then, when you were cured, we still assumed you were less than human. We didn’t try to make you feel welcome, we didn’t return your goods or your families, we didn’t try to make you feel human again.
“Frank, I can’t tell you what keeps you going, when everything in you wants to turn around, but I can tell you why I keep going. It’s because I have to make up for not trying. I have to make up for all the things I didn’t do when I could have. For all the people I could have saved and didn’t because I was scared. Because I ever let myself believe that the Infected were anything less than human. Less than you’ve turned out to be. I can’t cure them now. But I can stop more from becoming Infected. And I can give the Infected the mercy I’d want. Not as threats, not as animals to be hunted, but as human beings that deserve better. That’s why I have to try. But not without you. I’d leave it all and live with my own failures if it meant staying with you. If you turn back, then I will follow you.”
“I’m not going to turn back. Not now. But we may get there and find out that the Colony is already infected. Or that they won’t listen. This whole thing might be pointless.”
“Nothing we do is pointless, not even when we fail. We brought these people back. We dumped them into a bleak, foreign world with only a note to help them. I’m tied to them now. I have to try to make sure I didn’t wake them up just to let them slide back into insanity and misery again. I have to make sure that curing them meant something besides the guilt and fear and grief it must have caused them.”
“Then we’d better get on the road before someone else reaches them first.” He let her go to pick up his pack. He watched her tie her sleeping bag back onto the pack frame, her hands working while her mind wandered miles ahead. The scar on her shoulder twitched and flashed at the edge of her shirt. He didn’t want to revisit that place. They’d done what they could. He’d cured them. He’d dragged them one by one into the farmhouse, gathered wood, gathered food. Kept them warm when he could. What else could they have done? Nella had spent years helping the Cured, one by one. She’d listened to horrors nobody else wanted to hear. She’d accepted them as people when no one else would. He remembered the soft wince she’d fought to hide the first few times the scar on his hand had brushed her skin. Once, he’d thought it was revulsion. He’d realized long ago it was empathy instead. She didn’t owe anyone either.
“Nella,” he said, and she looked up from the latches on her pack, “you’re a good person. Maybe nobody’s told you in a while. You don’t deserve the guilt you keep heaping onto yourself. We aren’t doing this because we owe the world something. We’re doing this because it’s right. Because we’re choosing to do good.”
Nella smiled and stood up, strapping the heavy pack onto her shoulders. Her scar pulsed brightly under the weight. “You’re lecturing me about guilt? That’s a switch.”
Frank traced the scar on her shoulder with a light finger. “It’s just— if we’re going to get sick, if— if I’m going to lose you— I don’t want it to be for some imaginary debt, or to satisfy someone else’s shallow judgment of us. You’re— we’re worth more than that. This is worth more than that. I can accept it if we are living the best we know how, if we die for something better in the future. But not for what happened in the past.”
She pulled the left strap of his pack so he would bend closer. “We’re going to be careful. If we get sick, you know I will take care of it. Don’t think about it anymore. Try to imagine us being eaten alive by mosquitoes and hacking pineapples with dull machetes next year. This isn’t the last day. This isn’t the end. You told me once that the universe couldn’t be that unjust. Where did that conviction go? Believe in me Frank.”
She pulled him gently into a kiss. “Don’t die,” he whispered.
Everything dies, she thought. “I won’t if you won’t,” was what she said instead.
Eleven
“You see them?” asked Amos, already reaching for his seat buckle.
“Yeah. I see ‘em,” said Rickey around a loose cigarette. “Should I stop?”
“Better, but not too close.”
Rickey slowed to a crawl as Amos hoisted himself halfway through the open window to warn the group in the back of the truck. Rickey squinted at the two women who trudged slowly up the grassy path. The little one looked familiar, but Rickey couldn’t place her. He pulled to a gentle stop as they turned to look at him. The older woman stumbled as she pressed the younger behind her.
“Shit,” said Rickey, “I think she’s sick.”
“I knew we should have grabbed the extra cement yesterday when we had the chance. If they’re this close we won’t be able to travel again for weeks,” muttered Amos. “Keep everyone in the truck. If they bolt for the truck or pull a weapon, don’t wait for me, you got it? I can handle myself, but only if I know the rest of you are taken care of. You take off and don’t stop for anything.”
“Got it, boss,” said Rickey, his knee bouncing nervously. Amos climbed out of the truck.
“Hello,” he said, his voice rolling easily over the still, windless field. “You from the City?”
“Yes,” shouted the older woman and took a few steps toward him. Amos held up his hand.
“Wait,” he said, “don’t come any closer yet— we’ll help you, but we have to keep everyone safe.”
The woman raised a hand to shade her eyes. “Amos? Issat you? It’s me, Christine Das.”
Amos was silent but Rickey saw him sag a little. “Don’t you remember me?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah of course I remember you, Christine. What are you doing way out here? I thought you’d be caring for people at the hospital.”
“The
City— there’s an outbreak there.”
“We know. We got Sevita’s message.”
“She— she sent a message?” She swayed a little, as if she were very tired or dizzy.
Amos crossed his arms. “Kinda thought you’d be with her,” he said.
“She put me in the bomb shelter. Below the hospital. Tole me to stay ‘side so I wouldn’t get sick. She tole me to stay ‘til someone came to help. She was already sick, she wouldn’t come inside. I tried—” she took another step toward Amos but stopped as he held up his hand again. “I tried to persuade her, but she said I would be safe inside. And then she left. We waited—” she waved backward at the younger woman, “we waited several days, but she didn’t come back. ‘Nother group did, and threatened to break the door down. They had kids with ‘em, needed the shelter more. An’ Marnie—” she waved again at the other woman.
Rickey sat up straighter at the name. He shared a glance with Amos.
“Marnie said she had a friend here.”
“Henry,” offered Marnie, “He should be at the Colony.”
“Yes, Henry. She said we could come and be safe, so we snuck out of the shelter to find the Colony.”
“You’ve been in the shelter the whole time? You haven’t been exposed?” asked Amos, his posture softening.
Christine hesitated. Rickey shook his head. “No. No, no, no. Amos, they have to go to quarantine, just like everyone else,” said Rickey, opening his door.
“But if they haven’t been exposed, it’ll be like throwing one of us into a pen of Infected and hoping we make it out okay,” said Amos.
“They have separate cells. They don’t have to get close enough to anyone to catch it.”
“Except whoever is feeding them—”
Christine watched the two men arguing from each side of the truck. The people in the back began to stand as well.
“We have to take that risk. Amos, you know we have to. You promised Henry that we wouldn’t bring any Infection back, that we’d be careful. Let them walk to quarantine. It’s not that far. They’ll be as safe there as at the Colony. If they are telling the truth, they’ll just be uncomfortable for a few weeks. If they aren’t—” Rickey looked up at the two women. “I’m sorry, we just can’t chance it,” he called. “You’ll be safe in the quarantine. Henry can talk to you over the radio. It’s quiet and clean and Vincent will make sure you have everything you need. Then, in a few weeks, we’ll all be together again.” He closed the truck door.
“Do you mind if we just get a ride on the back of the truck?” asked Christine, “We’re just— we’ve been walking a long way—”
“No Christine,” said Marnie, “it’s not much farther. We can do it.”
“I don’t think I can,” said Christine, sinking on her heels.
“It’s less than a mile,” said Amos, “I wish we could take you, but we have others in the back—”
“We’ll be fine,” called Marnie as Christine shook her head and began rocking back and forth.
“Get in the truck, Amos,” said Rickey, suddenly uneasy at seeing Christine break down.
Amos hesitated. “I’ll see if we can empty out the truck and come get you once we get back—”
Marnie shook her head. “We’ll be okay. You should go. Now.”
Christine was muttering something. Amos slid back into the truck and Rickey didn’t waste time, rolling quickly past the pair and holding his breath without even realizing it. He saw Christine stand up in the rear-view mirror. She flailed as if she were throwing something at the truck and Marnie stumbled backward. Rickey hit the gas, not wanting to see what happened next. Hang on kid, I’m bringing help, he willed toward Marnie.
“I’m pregnant!” shouted Christine. “I’m pregnant, bastars.” She swiped angrily at a tear on her cheek. “Can’t lea’ me here. Jus’ pregnant and tired. So tired.”
“It’s okay,” said Marnie, helplessly, “We’ll rest a few minutes. It’s not far, we’ll rest and when we’re ready we’ll take a little walk.”
“Not okay. You should’ve tol’ em I was pregnant. Would believe you. Everyone believes you.”
“What are you talking about? They didn’t take me either. I’m in the same boat as you.”
“You tol’ em about this morning. You tol’ em about the meat.” She waved her bandaged hand in front of Marnie.
“Christine, calm down. You heard everything I told them. The meat is just a craving. Just a bad pregnancy craving. We’re going to get you some, just as soon as we get—”
Christine ripped the bandage from her hand. “This look like a normal pregnant wom’n t’you? Hmm? You see lots of people eat themselfs? Should’ve gone with ‘Vita. Should’ve left you in the bunker. She loved me. She loved me.” She sank back down to the ground with a sob. “Now I’m going to die all alone. Or eat you and scrounge alone. Hurting people forever. Why didn’t I stay with ‘Vita? Why didn’t I open the door?”
Marnie stood by, not knowing what to do. Part of her wanted to flee, to run to the Colony and make the men come back with guns. She couldn’t do it, not while Christine was crying. A flicker of shadow caught her eye as she feebly patted her companion’s back. She glanced back the way they had come. The spindly silhouette of two people stretched against the bright, dry sky. Marnie stood up straight. She was torn between relief and panic.
“Christine,” she said softly, but the other woman just continued to sob. “Christine, someone is coming.” She shook her friend’s shoulder. The silhouettes thickened into a very tall man and a smaller woman beside him. “Christine, we’ve got to go. We need to hide.” She backed up a pace or two. The woman’s silhouette raised a hand in greeting. It was too late. They’d been seen. Marnie scanned their surroundings for something, anything to protect them. There was nothing, and no close obstacles for cover. The couple stopped several paces from them. The man reached into his pocket and Marnie raised her hands.
“Please, we have nothing,” she said. Christine just kept rocking and crying on the ground.
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” said the woman, “Are you from the Colony?”
The man pulled out a piece of cloth and handed it to the woman, who stretched it out and placed it over her face. A surgical mask, like at the hospital. Marnie relaxed a little as the man pulled out another and put it onto his own face.
“No— are you looking for the Colony too?”
“Yes, we’re here to help. Are you from the City?”
Marnie hesitated, not sure what to say. “My friend is. There were some people from the Colony a few minutes ago. They said there’s a quarantine camp less than a mile away.” She leaned down and said, “Christine, c’mon, we have to move.”
The woman looked startled and glanced at the man. “Did you say your friend’s name was Christine?” She took a step forward, but the man touched her gently on the shoulder and she stopped.
“Yeah, she— she’s not doing well.”
“There are hundreds of Christines, Nella,” warned the man.
“Do you— do you mind if I take a look at her? I’m— I was a doctor,” said the woman.
Marnie hesitated. “I don’t know if you should— I’m not sure what’s wrong with her. She’s pregnant but I think— there might be more.”
She saw the woman give the man another quick glance. “I’ll be careful,” she said. Marnie wasn’t certain if the woman was talking to her or the man. They came closer and the woman took off her pack and began searching inside. Marnie could see the shape of a gun in one of the side pockets. She backed up a little, still nervous.
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” said the woman. “I know that’s hard to believe with what you’ve probably been through. My name is Nella and this is Frank—”
Christine looked up at the names and Nella stopped. “It is you. What happened? Where is Sevita?” Nella pulled on a pair of gloves and reached for Christine’s wounded hand. Frank crouched beside them.
“She’s gone. We
had to go. Nobody lef’. The whole City sick. Now, me too. Me too. Should’ve gone with ‘Vita.”
“You said you were in the shelter. You said you weren’t exposed.”
“I was wrong. She was wrong. I wanted the baby to be okay. I wanted to believe we’d be okay. ‘Sokay now. You found Ann?”
Nella felt the warmth of Frank’s hand on her shoulder. “We found Ann,” said Nella.
“So you have the Cure. ‘Vita went away one day, but she might be— maybe the soldiers are protecting her.”
“I’m sorry, Chris,” Nella’s voice cracked. “There’s no cure this time.”
“But there has to be. They made it, they have to know how to unmake it. You can find out. Jus’ make her talk long enough. You’ll find it.”
Nella shook her head. “Ann’s dead. They’re all dead. Dr. Pazzo told us there was no cure.”
“He’s a liar. A LIAR.”
She felt Frank stiffen as Christine raised her voice. Nella knew it wouldn’t be long before she turned. She tried to stay calm. “I know. I know he was. You’re right. But Dr. Carton said it was incurable too.”
“So thass it? What do we do now?”
Nella tried to concentrate. “Let me see your hand. We’ll get it bandaged up and then we’ll go to the quarantine camp and get some dinner and a rest. We need to talk to the people in the Colony. Let them know how bad the City has become. You can tell them better than us. We’ll see what they say.”
Christine put her hand absently into Nella’s gloved one. “You think they’ll help? You think they can find the cure?”
A tear soaked into the flimsy paper mask that Nella was wearing. She tried to blink the rest away and concentrate on the ragged cut on her friend’s hand.
The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) Page 6
