“This is part of your plan?” asked Henry quietly. “Next he’s going to claim he can cure the new plague too.”
“I’m counting on it,” answered Vincent, just as quietly.
“It’s going to cause mayhem. Most of these people are ready to believe anything that gives them half a hope of escaping the disease.”
“So is Father Preston. And you have to pretend to believe it too, if this is going to work.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re falling for this.”
“Shhh. I’m not. But Henry, whatever happens next, whatever I have to do to make this work, you have to trust me. Believe in me, even if you can’t believe in him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Only what I have to do to save lives. Only what I have to do to stop this plague in its tracks before it spreads.”
Father Preston was lifted onto a nearby bench. He put his hands up again to quiet the crowd. He hovered over them in his burlap robe, the camp lights glowing around his head where they hung from the rafters. “I know that I wasn’t given this gift just to save a handful of lucky people. I thought, until I arrived here, that I was called to save others who have struggled under this affliction for years. But when we heard about the Plague’s resurgence, I realized that my purpose much be larger. I was sent here, with this gift, to be the cure for the people of the City. To be the safeguard from contagion for this colony. You needn’t be afraid of those flocking here for help. In fact, you should see it as a deserved reversal of fortune. You have suffered for many years under the whims of the Immunes, both during the plague and after. God is rewarding your patience by sending the same sentence to your persecutors. He is making them walk a mile in your shoes—”
“Bullshit!” shouted Amos. “Those Immunes are the people that found the Cure. Those Immunes are the people who accepted the Cured back into their community, forgave them for killing loved ones. Gave them food and shelter—”
“You cannot deny that they were treated as second class at best. Sometimes even hunted. It is only just—” Father Preston boomed across the barn.
“What the hell do you know about being second class?” challenged Amos. “What do you know about being hunted? You’ve never been treated as second class. You have a halo of people around you even now, after everything, claiming you’re better than everyone else. That you’ve been chosen by God as a tool of forgiveness, as someone who can reverse some divine sentence. The Plague is not a punishment. It’s a bacteria. These people didn’t deserve to get sick. Not even you. I didn’t deserve to be Immune. No one deserves it now.”
Father Preston’s face was dark red. He struggled to keep his expression neutral. He took a deep breath and then gave Amos a pitying smile. “Obviously, God disagrees.”
Amos shook his head. “You’re a lunatic. I can’t believe anyone is buying this. He didn’t heal you, people. He’s not going to heal anyone else. It’s a bacteria. You can’t heal it by laying on hands or by faith or by drinking blood. Just because the technology is gone doesn’t mean we unlearn centuries of science.” He turned toward Vincent. “They won’t listen to me. Tell them that faith doesn’t mean you have to fall for every con man claiming special powers. Tell them what happens to false prophets and the people who follow them.”
“I cannot tell them what to believe, Amos.”
“Why not? Father Preston sure is.”
“If it gives them hope to believe he can cure this, then why should I dissuade them?”
“Because that belief is putting us all in danger. What are we supposed to do? Just open our doors and welcome in the Infected? Just trust that he’s somehow going to protect us all?”
Both groups were watching them intensely. Henry was terrified, every muscle wound tight beneath his skin, but without purpose or direction. Vincent squeezed his shoulder and Henry knew that the priest had been waiting for whatever was going to happen next. It didn’t make him feel any better.
“I want to rail against Him too, Amos. Why didn’t He intervene earlier? Why now, when he could have saved your daughter? Or Rickey’s mother? Or Marcus’s parents? I don’t know. But He is intervening now. There are a few dozen living examples just in this room. As you said, a disease can’t be healed by gestures or drinking blood or touching someone’s robes. But it was. How can I deny it? They are cured.”
Gray straightened and stepped away from his beam. His hand closed on the dart. He wasn’t going to be party to some crazy tent revival. There were easier ways to eat. Besides, the crowd looked torn and he was betting on Amos. He opened his mouth, but Melissa spoke up first.
“What about those of us who don’t believe it, Vincent? Don’t we get a say in protecting ourselves? Are we just supposed to all convert and submit? Henry, Rickey, say something. Do something. Molly?”
“Even— even if Father Preston is right,” stuttered Henry, glancing at Vincent who avoided looking at him, “We still need— precautions. What if there is a flood of people? Even Father Preston couldn’t— um, couldn’t treat them all at once.” Henry saw Vincent nod very slightly and he grew more confident that this was the direction Vincent had intended. “If we just let them wander into the colony then they’ll infect others and Father Preston will only have more work. Some of them might even become violent before he is able to get to them.” He saw Amos’s face begin to relax. The crowd seemed anxious but quiet. “We need somewhere to put them,” continued Henry, “somewhere not in the colony until— until they are cured or long enough to prove they’re immune.”
“We don’t even have enough shelter built for us as it is,” shouted someone from the loft, “How are we supposed to build shelter for extra people?”
Amos crossed his arms and watched Vincent. “We’re building homes for us. We only need to have temporary shelter for the refugees. It’s summer, the weather is mild. Tents, maybe. Or those snap-together sheds from hardware stores.”
Gray snorted a laugh. “You think they’re going to stay on their side of the wall? Just sit quietly in the tents until the quarantine is over? You’re better off locking them in horse stalls. Especially when they start trying to eat each other.”
“You— you think we should pen them up?” asked Henry. He choked on his panic.
“I’m sorry,” said Vincent quietly, “it’s the only way. For their safety too.”
“We spent eight years chained to posts, Vincent. We just escaped and now you want me to turn around and do the same thing to someone else?” he whispered. But Amos had already leaped onto the idea. He was setting up a trip to the neighboring farms to scavenge pens and fencing and dog runs for the next day.
Vincent turned him away from the crowd. “You are not Phil,” he said, “and we are not going to use these people. But we have to separate the Immune from the Infected. They won’t even be sure themselves which they are. And we have to keep them safe from each other. We don’t have enough people or enough weapons to watch them all the time.”
“We can’t do this, Vincent. It’s not right. They’d stand a better chance out in the wild if we turned them away.”
Vincent shook his head. “If they are sick and they survive, they’ll spread it. The disease will just meet us a few months later. And we’ll be putting other people at risk. This is our only chance to contain it. We have to clean up whatever the City couldn’t. We have to stop it here or this really will be the end of human life.”
“You don’t even know that they’ll all come here.”
“They will if they hear there is a cure.”
“That’s why you weren’t worried about Father Preston.”
“Henry, if I could have persuaded him that he was mistaken, I would have. I still have hope for some of his followers. I want you to keep them here at the colony. But he is lost. He believes in his ‘miracle’ utterly. Maybe I want to believe it a little bit too. But I can’t risk a hundred people’s lives to find out—” he paused, hearing Gray’s raised voice.
“…a
ll well and good, but how you going to feed them? How’re they going to get water or do their business or clean themselves? You can’t just stick em in a cell and forget them. Not to mention, anyone that gets close enough to lock em in or feed em will risk infection too. I vote we go with the second plan, we shoot ‘em on sight. It’s faster and kinder than starving. I mean, who’s going to volunteer to care for ‘em? Any of you really want to risk going back to being cannibals? Did you forget what you were like?”
“I’ll risk it,” said Vincent. “I’ll go with Father Preston and oversee the camp.”
“What?” hissed Henry.
“I believe in Father Preston, and I know he’ll need some help. Who better to care for the ill and homeless than a priest?”
Father Preston smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Brother Vincent. Even after others failed me.” He turned to smile at Gray.
The people around him clamored to join Father Preston. “Your turn,” muttered Vincent under his breath to Henry.
Henry cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Father Preston, but I’m going to have to request your people to stay in the colony. We simply do not have enough people without them. Not to feed and house the refugees and to finish our defensive wall before winter. If we cannot expand our fields quickly, we will have a very hard year. There is no trading with the City any longer. We must care for ourselves.”
“Henry is right,” rumbled Amos, “we won’t survive if we do not work together, regardless of what we believe.” He stepped forward and held out a hand to Father Preston.
The priest nodded and took Amos’s hand in his own bandaged one. “Agreed,” he said, “Brother Vincent and I will be more than enough, once the camp is set up.”
Rickey leaned over to Henry. “Best end this shindig before another brawl breaks out,” he said quietly.
“It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, folks. We should all get an early night,” said Henry to the sea of faces around him.
The crowd began to split up, trickling through the barn doors in a daze, most not even certain what they’d agreed to. Henry wasn’t entirely certain either. He walked down to the still pond near the farmhouse. He stood still and breathed the cool night air. After a while, Vincent joined him, followed by Melissa and Amos.
“You could have told me what you were planning,” said Amos.
“You would have tried to stop me,” said Vincent.
“You’re right, I would have. The man’s delusional, Vincent. Something else happened, I know it. And even— let’s say he’s right. Even if he did heal those people somehow, what makes him think he can cure the new disease? What makes you think it?”
“I don’t,” said Vincent.
“Don’t go,” pleaded Henry.
“Someone’s got to. Someone’s got to keep people believing so they don’t get desperate. If they think they’re doomed, they’ll try to run.”
There was a puff of smoke behind them. Henry turned around to see Rickey squinting as he dragged on the cigarette. “I still don’t get how this is better than just killing them.”
“Some of them might still escape. Some of them might be immune. The ones that turn— we’re going to have to dispose of them quietly, so they don’t cause a panic. We’re going to have to pretend they’ve come behind the wall, that they’ve been cured. In six weeks, we’ll— you’ll know who is healthy. But there will be stragglers. In five weeks, I’ll persuade Father Preston to lead a pilgrimage back to the City. Melissa will get a radio broadcasting. Whoever hears about the cure will be drawn to the City if they think they are infected. They’ll all be in one spot, or as many as we can gather. Then you must do what needs to be done. The people in the City bought us time. They blocked off the exits, but it’s foolish to think no one is going to try to escape anyway. It has to be finished. But maybe this way, we can save a few.”
“Why can’t someone else do it?” asked Melissa, “Why does it have to be us?”
“There isn’t anybody else,” said Henry softly. “We have to save ourselves.”
Rickey crushed his cigarette out in the damp grass. He shoved his hands into his pocket. “What if you get there and you don’t— you know. What if you don’t get sick?”
“I would prefer to die with my sanity,” said Vincent.
“It’s a waste. Why don’t you send that Gray guy instead? There’s something weird about him. And we need you here.”
Vincent scowled. “I don’t trust him. He’d take off within the week. You watch out for him too, he’s hiding something. Maybe lots of somethings. He was watching us the whole night instead of Father Preston. It has to be me. Don’t worry Rickey. There are some things worth sacrificing for. Saving the world is one death I wouldn’t be afraid of. Besides,” he slapped Rickey on the back, “I know I’ll be seeing you again, before then.”
“How do you know that?” asked Rickey.
“Because being a hero isn’t for sissies. I’ll see you in the City.”
Rickey nodded. “Damn straight,” he said. “Sorry, Father,” he added automatically.
Thirty-nine
Marnie had lost track of how long it had been since the squatters had moved in. She didn’t mind them. In fact, she suspected they might be helping to persuade Christine that it was time to leave. The trick was getting out without contracting the Plague. The pregnancy was making Christine weepy. Weepier, Marnie corrected herself. They both had good reasons to cry. But Marnie had seen stern strength in Christine when they’d first locked themselves away, so she knew it was there. She was counting on it.
Though Christine had mostly stopped crying out for Sevita in her sleep, while she was awake she kept sitting next to the bunker door with the intercom on, just listening to the others outside. Marnie couldn’t decide whether it was loneliness or guilt that made her do it, but after a few attempts to lure her away, Marnie decided it was better to leave her and start getting them both ready to escape.
She was sorting more supply boxes, looking for some kind of gas mask or filter. She had her pack, the one she’d taken from Henry. And she’d found an old canvas duffel bag filled with old blankets. She’d filled both with as much bottled water and sealed food as she thought they could carry. She still needed some kind of light source, something to protect them from the contagion, and the door code. She pushed aside a large carton filled with toilet paper rolls and almost laughed with relief. There, underneath, was a trap door. She wasn’t going to need the code, and they weren’t going to have to figure out how to get past the angry people at the front door. She just needed a lamp or a flashlight and a mask. She rummaged faster, spilling boxes from their stacks with large thuds.
Marnie was draped halfway into a large crate of medical supplies looking for paper masks when Christine said from behind her, “What are you doing?”
Marnie righted herself and spun around to face Christine. “How long are we going to hide in here?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Until everyone’s gone I guess. Until it’s safe for us to go out.”
“But that could be months away.”
Christine sighed and put her hands on her hips. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“Yes, but things have changed. There are people out there. People that could be safe in here. People that might last a long time with enough food and water.”
“Marnie, just because they say they are immune, doesn’t mean it’s true. They might not even realize they are sick when they are. You haven’t been exposed. If we open the door, you will be.”
“What’s going to happen when you go into labor? We don’t have any help. I don’t know anything about having a baby, and if something happens, you won’t be able to help.”
Christine placed a hand protectively under the soft curve of her belly.
“There’s another way,” said Marnie. “I have a friend, he has a group at a farmhouse. He’ll help us. We just have to get there.”
“How are we going to get there? There’re a dozen peopl
e just outside the door and Sevita said the City is cut off.”
“There’s another door, and I think it leads into the utility tunnels—”
“You haven’t opened it have you?” Christine asked sharply.
“No, I just found it. I’m not stupid. I was looking for a mask and a flashlight.”
“It’s a maze down there, we’ll never get out again.”
“I memorized the map. We can take it with us if we want to. We should, in case anyone tries to follow us.”
“Who is going to follow us?”
“The people outside. That’s what I was talking about. We’ll wait until late. We’ll listen until it sounds like everyone is asleep. Then I’ll go through this door into the tunnel. You unlock the front door. You don’t even have to tell them, just leave it open a crack. They’ll find it in the morning. Then you get into the tunnel too. We’ll go find Henry and then those people outside the door can live safely until the quarantine ends. Or— or the other thing happens.”
Christine smiled. It was the first genuine smile Marnie had seen from her. “You thought of all this— packed these bags and planned the route?”
Marnie blushed. “It’s not like there’s a ton to keep me busy in here.”
Christine hugged her. “I thought I was honoring Sevita’s work by staying put. By waiting to be rescued. But you’re the one who really used the advantage she’s bought us. We’re getting out of here, tonight. There’s got to be a flashlight in here somewhere.”
In the end, they couldn’t find a face mask, but Christine told her it didn’t matter. “We’re going to avoid anyone we see. As long as you don’t get within a few paces of an infected person it won’t matter anyway. The bacteria travels on their breath or their sneezes or coughs. It doesn’t survive long in the air. We won’t get close enough.”
They lay in their bunks talking quietly, too excited to sleep, though they both knew they’d regret it later. The hours crawled by even slower than they had in the days before. At last Christine slunk over to the large door. She flipped on the intercom and they waited for a breathless ten minutes. She flipped it off again after the long silence and waved to Marnie. Marnie slung the large duffel bag over her shoulder leaving the smaller backpack for Christine. She unlatched the trap door and clicked on her large flashlight. The door squealed as it opened, particles of rust raining down into the dark passage like a crimson snowfall. She cringed and looked back down the hall, but Christine was still calmly waiting. Marnie waved once more and then climbed down the narrow ladder to the cement tube that ran beneath it. She heard small animals scurry and scratch around her. Only something as large as a person could scare her now. She waved the flashlight over the tunnel and walked forward a few paces to where she knew a T-junction should be. Satisfied it was there, she paced back and forth, glancing at the ladder back to the bunker.
Poveglia (After the Cure Book 4) Page 22
