The Land of the Shadow

by Lissa Bryan

  How had she gotten down here, face pressed into the dirt? Carly tried to roll over and found she didn’t have the energy. Her head was pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut as the world rotated around her in sick, wavering circles.

  She flipped over, though not of her own accord, and Justin’s face hovered above her. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him over the numb buzzing in her ears. His voice came back, as though someone were turning up the volume of a television.

  “—Stacy, now! Carly … Carly?” He pressed a hand to her forehead and then to her neck. “Carly, look at me. Look at me, honey.”

  She tried. Her eyes weren’t focusing well. “I’m okay,” she said, but the words didn’t sound right. She tried again. “I’m okay. Sorry. I’m fine.”

  Faces crowded around and everyone stared at her, eyes wide and alarmed. Carly closed her eyes, embarrassed. “I’m okay. Please, just—” She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to say. She tried to wave a hand and it flopped a little.

  Justin turned his head and said something. The people backed away as he picked her up.

  “No, put me down. I can stand.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  He carried her over to the picnic table under a nearby tree and swept off everything on top to lay her down. Cups, coolers, and lunch bags tumbled to the grass.

  “Here,” Pearl said, appearing at Justin’s side with a glass in one hand and a cloth in the other. Carly smiled at her, and Pearl smiled back. She laid the cloth over Carly’s forehead as Justin slipped an arm beneath Carly’s shoulders. The cool towel felt wonderful, and Carly sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah.” Pearl’s eyebrows were crumpled together so much, they almost touched.

  “I’m okay,” Carly said again.

  “Drink this,” Justin said and tilted the glass to her lips. Water. She didn’t care if it was flat and boiled. It was divine. She tried to gulp at it, but Justin tilted the cup so she just got small sips. “Go slow, honey.”

  “Really, I’m fine,” she said, and at that moment, it hit her. She turned her head and the water came back up. She hadn’t eaten much for breakfast, but her stomach didn’t seem to remember that. It tried to expel the remnants, and it seemed to want to eject every meal she’d eaten this week, because she kept heaving long after there was nothing left.

  “Jesus,” Pearl murmured.

  “I’m—”

  “If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to shake you,” Justin said. He pushed the hair back from her sweaty cheeks and used the cloth to wipe her face and neck. It felt so good.

  “Pearl, give me some more water, please.” When she brought it, Justin poured it over Carly’s head, soaking her hair. Someone pulled off her shoes and socks, and another laid something cool over her legs.

  “What happened?” Stacy appeared over her, and she heard the clunk of her medical kit on the bench.

  “She fainted. Pulse is low but within normal range. Respiration normal. Responsive.”

  Stacy stuck a thermometer into Carly’s mouth, then pinched Carly’s wrist between her fingers and looked down at her watch. It was set to no particular time—it was used only for timing pulse rates. “Heat stroke?”

  “Possible, but Laura told me she’s been running a low-grade fever.”

  “Traitor,” Carly muttered around the thermometer. “I’m fine. I’m feeling better already.”

  They ignored her. “Could she be pregnant?”

  “No,” they both said at the same time. She’d had her period last week. It had been the first time Carly had to do without modern sanitary products, which couldn’t be found in any store for miles around. It had been a somewhat awkward and uncomfortable situation in which Carly experienced literally being ‘on the rag.’

  “If it were heat stroke, her pulse should be rapid, not slow. Have you ever fainted before, Carly?”

  “No, never.” She wasn’t even sure that was what happened, because she didn’t think she’d lost consciousness at any point.

  “Let’s get her home,” Justin said. He scooped Carly off the table. She was about to argue, but she saw the expression on his face. For a moment, Justin’s mask slipped and she saw the raw fear below it. The words died away, and Carly twined her arms around his neck, wishing she had some way to comfort him, to assure him she would soon be well and everything would be okay again. He held her too tight as he carried her to the house, but she didn’t protest. He held her as though his tight grip could keep her from being torn from his arms by her own mortality.

  At home, he laid her on their bed, and Carly sighed as she turned her cheek to rest on the cool pillowcase. She wanted to sink into sleep in this dim coolness, but Justin and Stacy were shooting vital signs and symptomatology back and forth as they prodded her. Stacy rubbed an alcohol swab inside her arm, and Carly winced at the sting of the needle.

  “I’ll be back. I’m going to run a few tests.” Stacy put the vial of blood in her bag and taped a bandage over the prick in Carly’s arm. “Try to get some fluids in her.”

  She heard the murmur of their voices at the door and then the click of it being shut. Justin stuck the thermometer back in her mouth. “Your fever is higher.”

  Fever. It suddenly struck her, and Carly felt icy cold. “It’s the Infection. Oh my God, Justin, get Dagny out of here! Please, take her and get—”

  “No, it’s not the Infection,” Justin said.

  “How can you be sure? Please, Justin, get Kaden and Dagny away.”

  “It’s not the Infection.” Justin said again, and his voice was firm. “But I’ll have Dagny stay with Mindy and Stan until you’re well again.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  She dozed while he was gone. She dreamed of her mother, when she had the Infection. At first, it was just like a summer cold, and then she had collapsed in the kitchen. Gloria had never been entirely lucid after that, muttering in fever. Carly tried to feed her soup, tried to spoon tea and Gatorade into her mouth to keep her hydrated, but any liquid came right back up. And after that, there had been the screams, the spiders. Her mom saw spiders and they—

  “I’m back,” Justin said, and she jerked into full wakefulness. He sat down beside Carly on the bed. She was cold again, but she didn’t want to ask him to hold her. She didn’t want to infect him with whatever this was.

  Justin’s eyes were full of concern, his mouth twisted into a hard, pinched line. She wanted to tell him not to worry, but she knew it would be wasted words. She wanted to tell him again she’d be fine, but she wasn’t sure that was true.

  “Justin, I need to tell you …”

  “Oh, Jesus, Carly.” He closed his eyes.

  She gripped his forearm. “I have to. Just in case I can’t later.”

  “No,” Justin said, and his black eyes flashed like an obsidian blade. “It’s not like that—”

  “You don’t know what I have for certain!” she said. “Justin, please?”

  “Stop it!” He stood and paced a few feet away, his back to her. She could see how his shoulders heaved as he fought. “You’re going to be—” His voice cracked. “You can’t be anything but okay.”

  “I will,” she said. “I will, for you. I promise. If there’s anything left in me, I’ll fight for you. But, Justin, there are some things you just can’t fight, and because of that, I need to tell you … please. Just listen to me. That’s all I ask.”

  She didn’t think he was going to respond, but he turned and came back to sit by her side. His steps were as stiff as a robot’s, and his face reminded Carly of one of those Japanese Noh theater masks, frozen into one expression. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “I know you can’t say it now, but I need you to promise me you won’t shut yourself off.” Carly pulled the blanket higher on her chest and tried not to shiver. It felt as thin as a paper napkin. “Dagny is going to need you. She will always need you, but if I’m not here—”

  He jerked h
is head away with such an abrupt motion, she thought he’d heard a noise, but he kept it turned away from her.

  “If I’m not here, she’s going to need you to be here, Justin. Not just in the physical sense, but emotionally as well. And being emotionally alive means you’re going to need love in your life, too.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to—” He buried his hands in his hair and groaned. “Fucking hell, Carly!”

  “I need you to know I would want you to,” she said, ignoring him.

  “Of course you would,” Justin said, his tone cutting. “Because you have a generous heart, but for God’s sake, Carly, stop this bullshit. You’re not going to die, and I’m certainly not going to get remarried, even if you did. This is it for me, Carly. If you don’t know that by now, you haven’t been paying attention. There is no ‘healing’ and ‘learning to let go’ or ‘learning to love again’ and all that shit. I gave my heart to you. And you’ll still have it, even if your own heart isn’t beating anymore. I gave you my soul. Even if your own soul is gone on to whatever it is you think lies on the other side. I don’t have another heart or soul to give.”

  He stood up and began to pace with short, rapid steps. “Look, I love you, okay? The one person I’ve ever loved. The sole exception. I’ve felt loyalty. I’ve felt duty. I’ve felt friendship and respect and even affection. But you’re the only person that … you fit me, Carly. You’re the only key to a very complicated lock. I’m not saying this to be grandiose or romantic. I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are it for me, Carly.

  “I’ll take care of our daughter. I’ll always be a loving father to her and see to it that she has what she needs. But let’s dispense of this bullshit notion that I’ll be shopping around for a replacement for you, because it’s not going to happen.”

  Carly knew Justin didn’t mean the biting tone he used, but it stung none the less. “I didn’t mean for it to be insulting, Justin.”

  He spun around to glare at her. “It is insulting! You’re acting like this—like us—is something that happens every day. Like I could find what I have with you with someone else, and that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking heard!”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and dropped her gaze down to the blanket. Her eyes stung, and she blinked hard to try to fight against the tears that threatened. Justin was breathing hard, as though he’d run a marathon. In a moment, he came over to sit beside her again. His fingers came under her chin to lift her face until she met his eyes.

  They were shiny. Too shiny. Justin gave her a smile that wobbled. “I thought you were a smart girl.”

  She lost the battle against tears. “Oh, Justin, I—”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her against him, hard. His heart thumped beneath her cheek, and she could hear the hitch in his breathing.

  “Shh,” he said and cupped a hand around her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything. She held him, just as tight as he held her.

  Justin heard a knock at the door and realized he’d fallen asleep while sitting against the headboard with Carly in his arms. He looked down at her and saw she was still asleep, her eyelids twitching as she dreamed. He laid her down with care and piled blankets around her when she began to shiver.

  “Be right back,” he said, though he knew she couldn’t hear. He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead and headed up the stairs.

  Stacy looked troubled when he opened the door. She stepped inside and set her toolbox down on the floor beside her—she didn’t go anywhere without that big kit anymore. “I’ve been running every test I can—”

  “It’s malaria, isn’t it?”

  Stacy blinked at him. “I’m not sure. How did you—”

  “I’ve seen it before. In developing nations where it’s still prevalent.”

  “But it was eradicated from the US, Justin. I don’t understand this. The only people who get malaria anymore are people who have been visiting foreign nations.”

  “It was eradicated back when we sprayed for mosquitoes.” Justin sat down and rubbed a hand over his face. “It was always in danger of reintroduction because all it takes is one infected person being bitten, and infected travelers were always coming back. This is the third summer without any controls on the mosquito population. And worse, we’re the only tasty mammals around, besides Sam and the horses.”

  A look of helpless fear flickered across Stacy’s face. Justin knew she was thinking of all the diseases that used to be common in the United States before technology and easy access to medication nearly eradicated them. Diseases that could come back and leave her almost helpless to combat with the diminishing stores of drugs.

  She cleared her throat. “I did blood smears. I’ve never done them before. We used to send that stuff to the lab.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I identified the parasite in her cells. I brought the microscope and slides, if you’d like to look at it.”

  He nodded so she set up the microscope. It had a flashlight clamped beneath for illumination.

  “Do you see those circular rings? Those are the parasite. But Justin, I can’t tell which one it is. My equipment just isn’t that precise.”

  Justin considered. “She hasn’t had any convulsions or breathing problems, except for that one collapse in the field, but that could have been a simple faint induced by the heat.”

  “Her other tests—the few I can do, like glucose—all came back normal.” Stacy picked up a small clipboard covered in scribbles. He presumed they were notes about Carly’s results, but there was no way he could read it.

  “No sign of it being a complicated form as of yet.” Justin sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods might be listening.

  Stacy rattled off the names of three drugs. “They combat the most common strains of malaria, so chances are they’d work. But we don’t have any of them.”

  He knew that.

  Stacy laid down the clipboard. “I spoke to Laura on my way over here and asked her to look for any cinchona trees or pinckneya in the area from which we could make quinine. We’ll find something, Justin. I’ll keep looking.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Justin helped her pack up the microscope and locked the door behind her when she’d gone. Carly never locked doors, he reflected, but Justin always did. Sam followed him as he checked all of the doors and windows to make sure they were secure.

  “Watch the house,” he said to the wolf. Sam stared back at him for a moment with those eerily sentient amber eyes and then laid down, his posture still but alert. Justin crouched down and gave his ears a rub before heading back downstairs.

  He should have been out working on the siege preparations, or helping to harvest the oats, or helping with the increased patrols of the Wall, but Justin couldn’t bear to leave his spot beside Carly’s bed.

  Days had passed. Weeks maybe. He wasn’t sure. Time had ceased to matter except as it marked the cycles of Carly’s illness.

  When the fever broke, she’d recovered briefly, and felt better for two or three days. She’d wanted to get up then, wanted to send him out to do the thousands of things that begged for his attention. At her urging, Justin had answered the door—it seemed someone was always knocking with a question, a complaint, a plea for advice.

  Pearl was handling the security aspects, and very well from what he heard. Grady and she clashed on occasion, but they managed between the two of them. Stan was handling the oat harvest, and Miz Marson was supervising the threshing. The Reverend had taken over for the social duties Carly had always taken on, resolving minor conflicts, doling out advice, and making sure people who were struggling had caring support. He’d come by a couple of times to pray for Carly. Justin wasn’t much of a believer in prayer’s efficacy, but he knew the Reverend was, and if it made the old guy feel better, Justin was willing to allow it.

  Justin should have been out searching for drugs, traveling far distances to find the m
edication that would cure Carly, but he couldn’t make himself leave her side. He cursed himself a thousand times and told himself he was failing her, but his fear held him in place. Her illness, the threat of Marcus’s group … he was afraid of what might happen in his absence.

  The surrounding countryside was stripped of drugs—anything useful, that was. The narcotics, of course, had vanished almost immediately, but people had since discovered the value of other medicines as trade goods. The antimalarial drugs needed to cure Carly might be in someone’s backpack, however no travelers had come to Colby for a while … not since Marcus’s group had settled in the area.

  Pharmacies … doctor’s offices. He didn’t know how far afield he would have to range to get the drugs, how long he would be gone. Anything could happen in that time. Anything.

  He held her hand, more for his own comfort than hers, as though he could keep her from slipping away if he kept a tight grip. Her hand was dry and hot within his own, and her fingers twitched in her dreams, but other than that, she was silent and still, her only movement the light rise and fall of her chest.

  She had always teased him for his paranoia that something would happen to her—his insistence on security, the smoke alarms … all of it—and now to have her attacked by the most insidious enemy of all? One he could not fight or protect her from?

  Carly believed everything happened for a reason. So, what lesson was he supposed to gather from this? He wanted to scream and rage at the universe: “I get it. You can take her from me at any time.” He knew that they lived in a state of constant vulnerability. He knew that he had no control over their fate. It was a lesson he was pretty sure he had already memorized.

  He heard a rattle from upstairs, the sound of someone trying to open the door, and then a knock. Sam’s claws clicked on the linoleum as he went to investigate, but there was no growl. Justin laid Carly’s hand down on the bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead before going upstairs. His urge was to ignore it, but duty pulled at him, reluctant though he may be to leave Carly’s side.