The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5)

by Gould, Deirdre

  Molly stood up and put her good hand on Amos’s arm. “Vincent, you said the people that cured us came in too. Maybe they brought another cure! Why else would they come back here?”

  “I haven’t asked them. They said they came to help— but I don’t think they have a cure. I think one of them, Nella, might be infected. Besides, if they had a cure, why wouldn’t they be in the City? No, Molly, I don’t think there is one. And I think they came because they knew they were the only ones that could come. I’m sorry. I seem to be delivering only terrible news.”

  “What’s terrible news?” interrupted Rickey. He yawned and tried to pat down his rumpled hair. “Henry said the people that cured us are here. They got to know something, right?”

  “Henry’s back,” Amos warned Vincent. “Let me tell him. I’ll call you soon.” He snapped off the radio.

  Melissa and Henry trailed behind Rickey and sat on the damp stumps next to the fire. Melissa picked an ear of corn out of the barrow and began shucking it as if it had been her task all along. Molly sat beside her and played nervously with the pile of drying husks.

  “Well?” asked Rickey, crossing his arms.

  Amos pocketed the radio. “The people who cured you are in the quarantine camp. They said they were here to help.”

  Rickey stretched. “We know that, that’s why Henry woke me up.”

  Amos nodded. He lowered a hand onto Henry’s shoulder. “They brought Marnie with them.” He felt Henry start and tightened his grip to keep him seated. “They’ve all been exposed, Henry.”

  “Shit,” muttered Melissa, tearing the husks from another ear.

  “Maybe they brought a—” Henry started, but Amos shook his head.

  “We don’t know for sure,” offered Molly, “Vincent was just guessing.”

  “I think he’s right. There is no cure, Henry.”

  “I promised her mother I’d take care of her.”

  Rickey shook his head. “You tried. She refused. You’ve kept your promise. We helped you keep your promise. There’s nothing you can do for her now, but wait. She’s with Vincent. She’s as safe there as anywhere else.”

  “What if some of them turn? What if they hurt her?”

  “Some of them have already turned, remember? Vincent won’t let them hurt each other.”

  “What about at the end, though?” asked Melissa. “You know what he’s planning. He won’t be there at the end, only the Immunes. Or whoever still appears immune by then, anyway. Are we just going to trust them to stay patiently in their cells until the fortieth day?”

  “We have three weeks until then, maybe more. If Henry waits until Vincent leaves with the Infected, he may avoid exposure. If he goes now, all he can do is get sick. We need everyone we’ve got here,” said Amos.

  “Wait,” said Rickey, “Why are we arguing about this? Vincent said the people that cured us came to help. He may think there’s no cure, but has he asked? They must have come for a reason. Nobody would tromp all the way out here if they weren’t sure it was necessary.”

  Melissa shrugged. “They’re exposed. The City is at least cut off, maybe destroyed. They’ve nowhere to go. Maybe they are the ones that needed help, but they were afraid to say so.”

  Henry looked at his hands. “Except for you guys, there isn’t another human being I’d rather help than those three. If that’s what they came for, then that’s what I’ll give them.”

  Rickey twisted a husk between his fingers, automatically shaping it into the cigarette he was craving. “You so sure we all feel that way? I want to talk to them first. I want to know why they cured us. I want to know why they are back now. Are they just cashing in a favor? Cause I’m still not certain what they did was to our benefit.”

  “You can’t really mean you’d rather still be wandering out there, eating people?” asked Molly.

  Rickey shrugged. “I didn’t know better. I didn’t care. Now I’m a nervous wreck. You guys don’t know, you’ve only seen me this way, not who I was Before. I spend my days terrified that I’ll lose it again. Or that I’ll starve or get some awful infection with no doctors around. Everything is scary now. Nothing’s easy. Maybe I would have been better off. If nothing else, I wouldn’t have dreaded dying.”

  “There must be something worth being sane for,” said Melissa, “otherwise, you wouldn’t be scared of losing it.”

  “You three can pretend all you like, but I’m not the only one who feels like this. Least I don’t have to remember tearing my kid apart or slaughtering a friend. Turned too late for that. Some people might not have chosen to be cured, if anyone had asked.”

  Henry pushed Amos’s hand from his shoulder and stood up. “You don’t want this? There’s your solution, down there. Why don’t you go take a stroll? No one’s going to bring you back this time,” he yelled. “Nobody has to worry about coming back, ever again.”

  Rickey raised his hands. “Whoa Henry, I’m just saying, I want to talk with our ‘saviors’ before we bend over backward laying out the red carpet. It’s practical to ask them what’s in it for them. They are people, Henry, just like everyone here. Maybe they are saints. Or maybe they cured us so we wouldn’t eat them. Or maybe they had darker reasons that we never heard about. I just want to hear from them. Why’d they come back? How did they find Marnie and how did they know you’d want her? Is that fair?”

  “That’s fair,” said Amos. “We’re going to talk with them. But we’re going to calm down first. Nobody is going to make very good decisions tonight. Marnie is safe and fed, Henry. You’re an adult, and as stubborn a person as I’ve ever met. I know you are just going to go do whatever it is you think is right, regardless of what I say. But I’m asking you to wait, even for only a few days, until we know more. You know how badly we need you up here. You know every hand is necessary if we’re going to feed all the mouths depending on us. What can you do down there for Marnie except sit and wait with her? You can talk with her on the radio, you can check on her with the binoculars if you want. When she comes out of quarantine, don’t you want to have a house and a school for her? Enough food and fuel to get her through the winter? If you’re down there, you can’t do any of it. And if you get sick, you’ll be a threat to her instead.”

  Henry rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. He glanced over at Rickey. “If it matters,” he said, “I’m glad you are sane instead of dead, even if you aren’t.”

  Rickey blushed and waved him off. “Shut up, you know I didn’t mean it. Not like that. I’m glad I didn’t have to eat all of you either.”

  Sixteen

  Henry sat in the silo, dangling his legs over the edge and watching the glowing line of lanterns in quarantine camp. “Hey kiddo,” he said.

  Marnie’s voice was thin through the radio, as if she had been crying or sleeping. “I’m not five anymore,” she said.

  “Right, sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I left you at the Lodge. It was stupid.”

  “You didn’t know the City was going to have another outbreak. Nobody did. If you were my kid, I’d be proud of you for not going with a stranger and seeking out a place where lots of people could help.”

  “Am I?”

  Henry scratched his head. “Are you what?”

  “Am I your kid? Is that why you are nice to me? Is that why you came back to find me?”

  “I came back to find you because I made a promise. And because I didn’t want to think of you being hurt. I care about what happens to you.”

  “My dad said my mother was in love with you once.”

  “No Marnie, your dad was the only one she ever loved. I was friends with both of your parents, but I’m not your father.”

  “So then— do you expect something else?”

  “Something else? What are you talking about? I don’t expect anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to keep my promise.”

  “People don’t do that out here. You don’t get something for nothing. I’m not your daughter so you must wa
nt me to be something else in return for food and security.”

  “I’d like you to be my friend, but you don’t have to be. I’ll still take care of you the best I can.”

  Marnie snorted. “You sound like Vincent.”

  “Good, I’d like to be more like Vincent.”

  “I don’t understand you. Any of you. You have all the food, all the people, most of what’s left in the world but you’re just letting anyone come in. You’re safe, you just have to keep everyone out.”

  “I know it must look weird to someone that’s grown up with Phil’s way of thinking, but the world isn’t always like that. It isn’t always the strongest and meanest who win. Not even now. You’ll see. Maybe not right now, maybe not for a while, but someday, you’ll see.”

  “If I ever get out of here.”

  “You will, Marnie. It won’t be long. It’s not just the sickness, I’m still building the house and we’ll be setting up a school next. In the meantime, Vincent’s not such a terrible guy. And I’m only a radio call away.”

  “You aren’t going to come down here?”

  “When Vincent and the others go to the City, I’ll come stay with you until the quarantine is up.”

  “What if— what if they start to turn down here?”

  “They will, Marnie. But Vincent will protect you.”

  “He won’t! He killed my mother,” her voice broke.

  “I know. But he was sick. Like me. Marnie, if your mom had been put in my pen instead of his, it would have been me that killed her. He never wanted to hurt her, or anyone else. He’s a kind, good man.”

  “But he will get sick too.”

  “If he gets sick, it will be long after he’s gone from the camp. I will be with you instead.”

  Marnie was silent.

  “Please,” said Henry, “try to be friends with Vincent. He hasn’t forgotten your mom or forgiven himself. I know you are probably too young to understand, but he’s not the same person you knew then. I’m not the same Henry I was before either. We have to learn to like each other again. Please try.”

  Marnie didn’t answer.

  “I’ve got to go,” said Henry, “my watch is up. Think about what I’ve said. What I’m asking. I’ll call you again as soon as I can. Goodnight.” He clicked the set off and slowly climbed down the silo. He stood a long time looking at the quarantine camp fence, worrying.

  Seventeen

  Thirty-five if I’m lucky. The sides of the thin tent trembled with warm water, condensed from their breath. Maybe thirty-eight. Maybe twenty-three if I’m not. Nella rubbed her eyes and tried to stop the countdown of days in her head. She turned to her side. The light through the canvas made Frank an amber statue. She touched the scar on his cheek. Thirty-six for you. Oh, Frank, I’m so sorry. So sorry. There was a clinking outside. It got closer and she sat up. She crawled out of the small tent to find a woman pushing a cart of plates down the grass lane between cells. She stopped at each wired gate and opened it to hand food through. Some of the occupants greeted her but most didn’t come out of their tents. Behind her was a hooded man reading aloud from a thick book. Nella thought she caught some bible verses but they were still too far to hear clearly. Nella clung to the wire fence, trying to see if it was Vincent. There was an urgency now, a push to do what they had come for. She wasn’t certain whether she feared that she would run away at the first chance, or the onset of madness from the disease.

  The people slowly moved closer, one cell at a time until Nella was certain it wasn’t Vincent. There was something familiar about the man, but his face was still mostly hidden by the shadow of the hood. Maybe it’s another of the Infected that Frank cured, she thought, uncomfortable with her inability to remember him. His voice was loud, strident, as if he were trying to persuade not just the person he was preaching too, but himself and maybe God as well. His voice woke Frank long before he reached Nella.

  “Who is that?” Frank asked, threading his fingers through the fence and squinting against the heavy glare of the sun.

  “I’m not sure, I thought maybe it was one of the people we cured.”

  Frank shook his head. “No, more recent than that.”

  “Someone from the City?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure. We’re about to find out, though. Why is he out of a cell?”

  “Maybe he runs the camp, like Vincent. They’re bringing food.”

  An arm shot out of a cell as the woman stopped in front of it. She stumbled back a step. The arm wriggled and clawed. The hooded man stood and raised his arms, reciting loudly. A scream ripped through the camp, overwhelming the man’s voice.

  “Someone’s turned,” said Frank, putting an arm around Nella as if he could shield her from it.

  “What is he doing? Is he one of those faith healers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s not— he’s not going to let it out, do you think?” Nella pushed herself a few inches back from the fence.

  Frank shook his head. “That other man, Vincent is coming. He has an ax.”

  They watched as the hooded man turned toward Vincent and shoved him away, turning to speak even more loudly. The woman was cowering against the door of an empty cell. Nella could see other people coming up to their wire doors and looking out toward the commotion.

  Vincent picked himself up, but didn’t interfere as the other man continued to compete with the screamer. The woman covered her ears as the shrieks grew more shrill and the man’s strident voice tried to rumble over them, to squash them, to drown them. A stone came sailing from another cell and hit the hooded man in the chest. He paused for a moment but went on. A few moments later, another stone, and then a few more. The man fell silent for a second. “Unworthy! You are all unworthy of miracles,” he shouted. “You’ve sunk into doubt, abandoned God!” A larger rock was flung this time and the man dodged it and walked away from the screamer’s cell coming closer to Frank and Nella. The woman followed him. Vincent set his mouth in a grim gray line and opened the screamer’s cage. He used the butt of the ax to push the screamer back.

  “He’s going to get bitten,” cried Frank.

  The woman with the cart had reached them. She shook her head. “No, we all knew it was coming. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. A few days ago, Walter asked to be restrained so that if Father Preston’s healing didn’t work, he couldn’t hurt anyone. His hands are bound and he’s tied to the back fence by the waist. That was the farthest he could reach.”

  Frank glanced over at the cage. The flicker of Vincent’s ax shone above the top for a second and then disappeared, along with the screams.

  “Father Preston?” Nella asked. The hooded man glanced back at them and turned to greet them. He removed the hood and Nella could see the livid purple scars where his face had been repeatedly bitten. “You. What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Frank pulled Nella back from the fence as if Father Preston meant to strike her.

  “I’m sorry,” said Father Preston, “have we met?”

  “Ruth told us what you did. You hung people in front of her hospital. You tortured Bernard for protecting them. And now you’re here? I wish we’d let you get eaten,” cried Nella. “How did you come among good people again? How did you fool them?”

  “What do you mean?” asked the woman. “Father Preston saved us. He cured us in that hospital. Ruth and Juliana were kind but they kept us from Father Preston’s miracle for years.”

  Vincent was walking toward them, drawn by the distress in the woman’s voice. He’d left his ax and was wiping his shirt with a damp towel.

  “You were in the hospital?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, for years. My mother brought me when she couldn’t find enough food for us both.”

  “I thought Ruth explained to all of you,” said Frank, shaking his head, “This man didn’t cure you. He had no miracle. He was trying to take you from the hospital. He wanted to use you. He wanted you to be a slave—”

  “That isn’t true,” sh
outed Father Preston, “I was saving them from starvation. I was giving them purpose again—”

  “He didn’t cure you,” said Nella, “we did.”

  “But— I remember biting him and then— and then I was me again.”

  “It’s because there was a strong sedative in the Cure. You did bite him. I pulled you off myself,” said Frank. “Don’t you remember waking up again in one of the cells?”

  “Y—yes, Gray let me out,” said the woman, with a fierce blush. She turned toward Father Preston. “What he said was true? That dart was really the Cure?”

  “No, no, it was just coincidence. I was cured without any medicine, years before. Remember? It was the same miracle that cured you.”

  Nella shook her head. “You’re wrong. You got lucky. Your body fought it off. You have no special powers, no miracles. I could forgive you believing that. Anyone could. Everyone wants some hope—” Nella’s voice caught and she stopped.

  “But you were going to enslave those people,” said Frank, continuing for her. “You murdered people that only wanted to show some mercy to the Infected they could no longer care for. You forced a pair of Infected to pull a car. You were going to do the same or worse when you got your hands on the others from the hospital.”

  “No, it was Gray,” said Father Preston, “It was Gray who said they could be useful. Why shouldn’t they be useful? Why shouldn’t they help us do God’s work rebuilding this world? To atone for—”

  “Atone? For what, Brother Michael? Being ill?” Vincent folded his arms over his chest, his one eye squinting angrily at the other priest. “How could they atone if they had no choice? How could they atone for what wasn’t a sin?”

  “Don’t speak to me,” spat Father Preston, “You’re a murderer.”

  “So are you,” said Nella.

  “So are we all,” said Frank, resting his hand gently on Nella’s back to recall her.

  “I am no murderer,” said Father Preston.