Gestern

by J. Grace Pennington

“You must have lost it when you fell earlier.” Dred took off his own pack and began rifling through it. “I looked for regen for your leg, but if you brought some, it fell out, too.”

  I watched his movements, finding that every passing second numbed me further in body and spirit.

  He pulled out a hypo, and without word or ceremony began to roll up my right sleeve.

  I pulled my arm away in alarm and stared at him. “What...” I didn’t know how to finish the question, so I just stared.

  “You’re dead anyway,” he pointed out evenly.

  He was right. I dropped my arm listlessly. He lifted it, fingers cold against my skin.

  “What are you doing?” August cried.

  Dred simply stuck my arm with the hypo and injected the unknown fluid.

  August pushed himself to his feet, ready to throw himself on Dred. I just closed my eyes, no longer wanting to think.

  “Relax,” I heard Dred say as he rezipped his bag. “It’s a treatment.”

  I opened my eyes. August froze, staring.

  “Treatment...?” I tried to understand.

  Dred shouldered his backpack and walked the couple steps to me. He bent down, slid an arm around my waist, and pulled me up. “Not much of one, I’m afraid. It’s the only thing I’ve come up with in my search for a Langham’s cure. It’s a very short term treatment, but I knew there was a risk of a standoff so I brought it along. It’ll buy us a little more time.”

  He pulled me forward and I limped along with him, stunned.

  “How much time?” August asked, gripping Ursula’s hand in his and following behind.

  “Only about two weeks. It boosts the immune system, but the angiophages adapt very quickly and I haven’t been able to find anything to help beyond that yet. I know it doesn’t give us much time to find a real cure, but it’s something.” He paused, shifted his arm a bit, and said, “Come on. Let’s get away before they can ambush us.”

  October 23rd, 2321

  7:13 p.m.

  Reims, France

  “Attention passengers. Due to an unexpected storm, the transport will be making an emergency landing in France. We hope to continue our flight to Frankfurt within a day or two. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Guilders opened his eyes and looked at the attractive brunette flight attendant in front of him. He scanned her face and read the nerves of an inexperienced liar.

  Keeping his movements moderate, he pulled out his pad and turned it on. He checked the weather between Reims and Frankfurt.

  Yes, there was a storm. A minor rainstorm.

  He typed out a message to his Captain and sent it swiftly before the overly nervous woman in the seat beside him could look over his shoulder.

  Then he leaned back in his seat.

  Gerard would need to be very careful. If someone was watching Guilders—they’d realize that Gerard had been contacted. That he knew Edmunds was up to something.

  Guilders closed his eyes again.

  CHAPTER XIX

  The sunlight had all but disappeared by the time we stumbled out of the woods into a small town just past the edge of the trees. It was little more than a jumble of a few dozen small, muted houses in a large clearing. I saw no streets, no businesses, only a few cars parked near the structures. Some of the cars were so old they had circle rather than spherical tires, and were rusted and dented. Some of the simple homes were adjacent to empty gardens, metal-fenced enclosures with goats inside, or even small, desolate fields.

  It appeared deserted.

  We stopped at the edge of the clearing, taking in the sight, catching our breath. I compared it to the bustling advancement of my experience in Baltimore less than a week ago. Were there really places in the world where people still lived like this?

  August answered my unspoken question. “I remember Dad telling me about this—things got so bad the government was offering free land to anyone who would stay in the country and develop it. People who had nothing. But I didn’t know it was still happening.”

  “If anything it’s gotten worse since you left.” Dred spoke wearily, his breath shallow and labored, but he still managed to keep me upright. “There are little to no resources but... the senate refuses to accept aid from the European Council.”

  We just stood there for a moment longer. We must have been a pitiful sight—me drooping in exhaustion and pain, limping while Dred supported me with his arm, August pale and tugging a small girl by the hand, all of us dirty and bedraggled from the trees and the dirt. Weary from the long past past few days and nights.

  August pulled Ursula ahead and looked at us. “What, do we just knock on some door and hope they don’t mind hiding us for the night?”

  The irritation in his voice again flashed me back to his inverted personality from weeks before. Poor August. I shifted a little as the pain in my knee began to throb harder.

  I hadn’t taken the time to stop and message the Doctor yet.

  “Unless you have a better idea,” Dred said evenly, and he pulled me up a bit straighter. “If Edmunds’ men are following us, they can’t be far behind. We can’t get much farther without some rest.”

  He tugged me forward and I limped, wincing every time I put the slightest bit of weight on my right leg. The tramp of leaves behind us signaled that August and Ursula followed.

  The closest house to us was a modest, unpainted wooden structure with a crude sloping roof and dark green shutters, all of which were closed. We approached it slowly, and when we reached it Dred shifted my weight on his arm and put his other hand forward to knock on the green wooden door. The hollow sound echoed over the silent, unpaved paths and through the clearing.

  No answer.

  “Maybe nobody’s home,” August suggested. “It’s too quiet.”

  Dred ignored this and lifted his fist to knock again, but the door swung open before he could. We were met by a short, thin man with a beak-like nose and a receding hairline, dressed in a coarse brown jumpsuit.

  He just stared at us, not saying a word.

  August pushed forward and said something in German.

  “I speak English,” the man said with a thick accent.

  Dred spoke up. “I’m sorry for interrupting your evening... but we’ve been walking all day, trying to get away from some people who want to harm us. We are hungry and tired and wondered if you could just offer us shelter for a couple hours while we rest and regroup. We’d recompense you for your hospitality, of course.”

  The man looked us up and down and his right eyelid twitched. “Recompense?” he asked, almost absently more than in a way that actually desired information.

  “Of course.” Dred shifted his arm around me again. “We just need a little time to rest and eat and clean ourselves before...”

  Another form popped up behind the man and two blue eyes stared at us from over his shoulder. A woman, face much rounder than the man’s, simple blond braid swung over her shoulder. She smiled at us.

  “Pardon my husband’s skepticism,” she said, also with a thick accent. “We do not see many new people in our village. Please, come in.”

  “Lena,” he cautioned, still keeping one hand on the doorway and blocking half of the entrance with his body.”

  “It’s all right, Peter. Can’t you see that they truly need help? They can have Tobias and Lukas’s bedroom for a few hours only. We can help.”

  “We have nothing to feed them, though,” he protested, moving only a few centimeters.

  “Not us, but I’m sure the neighbors can help. We can at least give them a warm bath and a bed to lie down.” She smiled warmly at us. “Come in, come in.”

  “Danke,” said August, smiling wearily. He tugged Ursula in, the little girl still clutching the doll to herself.

  Dred and I followed, not speaking. August chattered with the hosts in German as we were led through a sparse room with a rusty heater, some old upholstered chairs, rocking chairs, and a screened television. It felt good just to be in out of t
he cold, to walk on wooden slats rather than the bumpy ground outside, even though my leg still pulsed with pain at every step.

  I was ready to sit down and get some proper, non freeze-dried food in my belly.

  The couple led us into another bare, gray-painted room with two white beds backed against one wall. It had a single, small window that let in the last bits of light, a lamp in one corner casting yellow light over the room, and a small wooden dresser. An open door led the way into a very small bathroom.

  “It is our sons’ room, but they are both away,” the woman said as we entered.

  “Thank you so much,” Dred said as he lowered me onto the closest bed. “As I said, we will repay you.”

  “Oh no, no,” Lena said, waving her hand. “You are tired. We can help. You have baths and rest here. I will see what the neighbors can do. Rest now. Just rest.” With another friendly smile, she ushered her husband out of the room and closed the door behind them.

  The silence they left behind was rest in and of itself. I dropped back on the bed, breathing slowly, trying to process everything.

  After a moment I spoke slowly, my voice slightly hoarse from exhaustion. “Dred?”

  He looked at me from where he sat on the edge of the other bed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the treatment?”

  “I wasn’t sure we’d need it. You didn’t need to know.”

  This hardly seemed like an acceptable reason. I didn’t need to know? Maybe not technically, but it certainly would have saved me a lot of fear and distress. But before I could complain, Dred stood up. “You can bathe first. You need your rest.”

  August agreed and helped Dred lift me up. I protested, but he said, “I’m feeling okay now.”

  The two of them helped me to the bathroom, then Dred retreated and August hesitated at the door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  Despite my pain and exhaustion, I smiled and managed a jovial tone. “I think this is one thing I can manage by myself.”

  He smiled back, though his eyes still held the worry that was so common to them. He closed the door.

  The room was barely two meters square, with a tan-colored, old-fashioned bathtub and matching toilet and sink. That was all. No pictures, no décor, nothing to brighten the place. Just the necessities, illuminated by the simplest of light fixtures from above.

  I settled myself onto the edge of the tub and just sat there for a moment. Then, keeping my movements slow and steady, I began to unbutton Dred’s jacket. I pulled it off, then took off my sweater one motion at a time, wincing every time my knee moved at all.

  When at last I had managed to undress, I turned and lowered myself carefully into the tub. I managed to rise to my feet by gripping the bar inside the shower, and I turned on the water. I jumped when first the cold water hit my skin, then cried out in pain as my knee punished me by sending throbbing waves up and down my leg. The water warmed, slowly, never quite reaching the temperature I was used to on the Surveyor. There, the water could be set to any temperature and would instantly emerge exactly as desired.

  But at least it became warm enough to be tolerable, and I began rinsing the dirt off, keeping one hand on the bar at all times. The warm moisture stung the suture on my knee, but I breathed deeply and steadily and kept washing. Trying to ignore it.

  To ignore everything.

  I rinsed my hair out carefully, slowly, letting leaves and twigs fall to the bottom of the bathtub, where they were stuck in the old-fashioned drain. These poor people would have some cleaning to do when we left.

  When we left.

  And what would happen then? We had escaped from Edmunds’ men for the moment, but what happened when they reappeared? What would Edmunds himself do when we turned up in civilization again? What would happen to Ursula?

  What would happen to me?

  Another pang in my knee finally released the long-held tears from behind my eyes and I began to weep, keeping company with the shower. I lowered myself to the floor and just sat in the pouring water, covering my face with my hands and crying, for everything that had happened, and everything that was still to come.

  ***

  The mattress wasn’t an especially soft one, but it was luxury compared to the hard, cold ground and rocks I’d had to rest on all day. I had only meant to rest for a moment but sleep overtook me quickly and at first I thought I had finally escaped dreaming.

  But it wasn’t long before a white room took shape—glowing, lined on both walls by rows of white cots. I knew this place. I knew it well. Contentment nestled in every cell of my body.

  Sickbay. I was home. This was my place. Mine and the Doctor’s.

  “Andi?”

  A familiar voice. The Doctor. Somewhere inside I was overjoyed. I wanted to run to him and hug him and never stop. But on the outside, it was just another day.

  I turned to him. His dear face. His white lab coat. His gray hair. “Can you take care of that Lieutenant over there?”

  He pointed to a cot on the opposite wall. Obediently, I turned. There was a man. A boy, really. So young. So pale. Hair and eyes as dark as could be. Armband clutching at his upper uniform sleeve.

  August.

  I knew him. But I didn’t know him, not yet. He was just another officer. With just another problem. On just another day.

  I approached him.

  Dear August.

  I stopped short. No. I knew this moment. I wasn’t ready to relive it again. Not yet.

  The moment we met, I knew everything would change. I wasn’t ready for that.

  August.

  He turned to look at me.

  “Hello,” he said in his soft, Austrian accent.

  The slow motion started. The floor disintegrated below my feet and I started to freefall. My stomach lurched as I dropped, dropped far below sickbay, below the ship. I just dropped. Down, down, down into the dark, the strange, the unknown.

  I screamed.

  “Andi!”

  August was looking over the edge of the pit, his face a pale dot in the darkness. He reached his hand down towards me, but I was dozens of meters below him. “Andi!”

  I screamed again and the darkness faded.

  “Andi, it’s okay. It’s me.”

  August. He was pulling me up from the Austrian bed, pulling me close, always stronger than I expected. Oh August. Dear August. It’s not your fault. It’s not.

  “What’s not?” He pulled me tighter.

  Had I said that aloud? I didn’t feel awake. I said nothing, afraid of giving away the feelings I couldn’t shake.

  But he persisted. “What’s not my fault?”

  I put my arms around him and clung. “Everything.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Oh August. He could never understand the concept of an appropriate time and place to ask things.

  “Just everything.”

  Everything that had been fine until he turned up.

  “What’s wrong with her?” a little voice asked.

  I turned my head. Ursula. She was seated on the edge of the bed next to me. Ursula, who it seemed had been just fine until we turned up. Why could no one ever leave well enough alone?

  “She had a bad dream,” August explained.

  Without another word, the little girl tucked her knees under her and started smoothing my hair back from my forehead.

  CHAPTER XX

  “I think our best bet is to call a taxi to come get us here and take us to Amstetten,” Dred began, stepping out of the bathroom with his hair wet and his face much cleaner than it had been. He stopped when he saw August holding and Ursula comforting me and eyed us for a moment, but he said nothing. He just turned and continued on his way to the other bed to get his backpack. “From there, we might be able to get a train to Salzburg, and from there, out of the country. I’m not sure, of course, but we’ll be safer in a big city than here. More people, less opportunity for bad guys.”

  He smiled at Ursula, who jumped down fr
om my bed and ran over to him. He sat down and pulled her up onto his knee, then looked back and forth between August and I as if asking for permission. Neither of us said anything, so he relaxed and held her close while examining his pad.

  A knock at the bedroom door drew all of us to look in that direction. “Come in,” Dred called.

  The door cracked open, and Lena put her face through. “Food is ready,” she told us with a smile. “We have enough, thanks to the neighbors.”

  The kindness touched my weary heart and made me feel like crying. These people would use the little they had to work together to feed strangers. Thank you, Lord, I silently prayed as August helped me stand.

  I was still sore but could limp without help, so we made our way out to the dining room, a small chamber opening into the room we’d gone through earlier. It too was extreme in its simplicity—a long wooden table with half a dozen mismatched wooden chairs pulled up to it. In one corner was a desk holding a computer that looked like a relic from the early twenty-first century.

  Lena and two other women, all of whom wore plain, dull-colored jumpsuits, bustled around the table serving steaming stew, fresh bread, and cups full of water. Peter and two other men, also in jumpsuits, sat in rocking chairs in the next room, one of them smoking a pipe.

  I watched both groups in fascination. It was a strange combination of different past eras. The lifestyle was like a bizarre compound of the 1800s with the 1950s, with technology akin to 2000 and fashion barely a decade old.

  Lena gestured for us to be seated and we did so, me next to August, Dred next to me, Ursula next to Dred. We all lifted spoons and looked to our hosts.

  “Eat, eat,” Lena prompted, waving her hands at us.

  August said something in German before beginning to spoon the steaming broth into his mouth. I just said “Thank you” and echoed the words as a prayer internally before scarfing down the food.

  It was the best thing I’d ever tasted. Whether that was because it was actually excellent or because of my cold and hunger I don’t know, but at that moment I felt sure that not even Almira’s cooking could best this simple fare.

  Even Ursula ate ravenously, and kept spilling broth on her shirt. No one rebuked her.