by Kirby Howell
“I don’t think of it,” I said and turned to walk away.
“If you’re going to represent New Burbank to the rest of the living world, I suggest you work on your manners,” he called after me. “Your diplomacy is the slightest bit off-putting.”
I muttered a few things I thought he could work on under my breath and turned the corner, leaving him sitting alone by the endless peach vines. It occurred to me I didn’t know a thing about politics, other than listening to my parents occasionally talk and things I’d learned in movies. I doubted that would help me in Paris. If I was going to accept the nomination, and I didn’t see any graceful way of getting around it, I’d need a crash course, and soon.
I found Grey sitting on the ice chest next to Zak’s bed, his own head in his hands. The machine next to the bed emitted a long, low beep. Grey looked up as I came in, and my heart broke when I saw his face. His eyes were puffy and dark; his cheeks even looked slightly sunken. His shoulders were hunched in defeat as he stared in my general direction. I wondered if he even saw me.
I looked at the machine and then at Zak, who was practically buried in bags of ice. He wasn’t moving.
“Grey?” I asked, stepping closer. “Is he...?”
The heart monitor screen came into view — it showed a flat white line. Zak was dead.
Grey reached up and snapped off the machine, its screen fading to a deep black, then replaced his head in his hands. The silence that filled the room was somehow louder.
“There wasn’t anything I could do,” he finally said. “I tried everything I could think of, no matter how old or new the remedy or what culture it was from. I tried stuff I hadn’t thought of during the initial outbreak that I wondered about afterward. I even tried giving him a dose of my latest inoculation, but he slipped into a coma... which might have been caused by the injection.” He pressed his palms into his face, hiding his horrified expression.
I knelt on the floor next to him and took his hands in my own. “You did so much good for these men. You helped them get through this, and you comforted them just by being here to take care of them. Don’t blame yourself for something that’s beyond your control.”
He leaned forward and rested his forehead on my shoulder. We stayed like that for a few minutes until I squeezed his arm and said, “I’ll run and get the mortician. He’ll come, and then you can go home with me.”
“No need,” he mumbled. “Jen already went to get him.”
He stood and disconnected the heart monitor pads from the man’s chest and then gently began removing the bags of melting ice from around the body. I helped him dump the ice into the sink, and he paused when we were done. He touched Zak’s hand with his fingertips for a moment, and then drew the sheet over his upturned face.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
Minutes later we were side by side on Snicket and Gideon.
“We’re going to start back to the oil rig tomorrow morning,” I said. “We need to tell Kevin what happened.”
Grey nodded, but it seemed more like a sleepy head bob.
“You need a few days of rest. We’re leaving at dawn, which is just a few hours from now, so you shouldn’t come.”
Grey didn’t respond. I looked at him as we turned onto our driveway and passed beneath the curved brick arch leading to the back of the property. His blue eyes were open and gazing ahead at nothing.
Once in the stable, he methodically removed Gideon’s saddle and reins, brushed him down, and then helped me lift my saddle onto the hook on the wall. We left some food in their troughs, and then I walked with Grey to the guesthouse, deciding I would spend the next few hours before dawn with him, to make sure he was okay. I doubted Daniel and Connie were waiting up on me, and the main house was dark.
Grey pulled open the door and made his way down the dark hallway, through the kitchen and living area, to the bedroom in the back. I closed the door behind me and followed him.
I found him standing at the foot of his bed, motionless. I recognized the hesitation from my own experience not 24 hours ago: unwilling to concede, unwilling to take a break from battling the darkness in our lives... undeserving of the reprieve while others couldn’t have one.
I touched his arm, and he sucked in a breath suddenly, as if he’d forgotten to breathe.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “I can’t do this... I can’t sleep here. I can’t sleep...”
I pushed until he turned and sat down on the bed, then knelt and removed his shoes. “You can sleep,” I told him. “Everyone else is resting. There’s no one you need to help right now.”
He looked at me with wide, searching eyes, as if he were a child asking me if I was sure Santa did, in fact, exist.
“Come on, lie down.” I coaxed him under the covers until he lay there, tense and taut, like he was expecting an alarm to go off at any moment. I kicked off my own shoes, then crawled under the covers.
Instinctively, Grey drew me into his arms and then kissed me forcefully. His hands clasped my back, pressing me against the length of his body and rolling on top of me. His lips were hard on mine, the pressure sharply painful, and I gasped in surprise. I clutched his shoulders, unsure what to do, but then as fast as it had started, something changed, and he buried his face in my neck, his shoulders shaking from sobs under my palms.
I tried to look at him, but he refused to draw away from me. So I held him until he quieted and his breathing evened. I thought he’d fallen asleep and started when I heard his voice, quiet and muffled against my neck.
“It was UCLA all over again...”
I waited to see if he’d say more, but he remained silent and still in my arms. Guilt twisted in my stomach. Even though I knew it wasn’t, couldn’t, be my fault these men had died, I’d still played a part in their death. Unintentional, of course, but still... we’d brought them inland, and they’d gotten sick because of us. And Grey had relived the worst days of his life. I’d never seen him like this before. It was as if he felt all of this was on his shoulders and his shoulders alone. As if he were alone in this fight. But he wasn’t, I thought angrily.
The news Karl had delivered to me earlier drifted through my head like an almost forgotten dream. The possibility that this could be how I might help seemed very small and far away. I would be the one who needed help.
I turned my face toward Grey, but his eyes were closed. My news could wait until tomorrow morning. I let my fingers slide down his shoulder to his arm and paused, breathing him in. He rarely smelled like lemons anymore, though once in a while I caught the bright scent behind another, a remnant of a past life still clinging to him like a scarf in the wind.
I woke three hours later to a room filled with light and the sounds of horses nearby. I was alone.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes, looking around the room. Where had he gone? Surely he wasn’t thinking of accompanying us on our journey back to Castor and Pollux today. I lurched out of his bed, stuffed my feet into my shoes and hurried for the door.
“Autumn!”
Daniel’s voice startled me as soon as I stepped through the door of the guesthouse. Grimacing, I closed it behind me. Of course, Daniel would have caught me leaving Grey’s.
I trotted over to him, trying to ignore the loose shoelaces whipping around my ankles. I started talking before he could begin chastising me for spending the night in Grey’s guesthouse, hoping I could make him understand.
“Look, Grey was in a very bad place last night... actually, I think he probably still is in a very bad place. He needed me. This was nothing more than that, I swear it. And Rissi didn’t see us. We only got back a few hours ago.” When I finished, I looked up into his wide eyes. I could see him considering, and after a moment, he closed his mouth and nodded, understanding. Then he set down a bag next to a few others stacked near the stable’s open doors and looked at me. His red hair flared orange in the post-dawn glow.
“So... it sounds like you were elected for this Summit thing.”
I
nodded, one tension replaced by another. “Karl stopped by the hospital last night and told me,” I said, as uncertainty flooded through me, suddenly unbearable. I looked up at him desperately. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know anything about politics or how this is supposed to work. There’s going to be people from all over the world there, and I only know a little Spanish, and even less French, and while I know some Gaelic, I really doubt it’ll help me. And —”
Daniel interrupted me. “You’ll be fine. You won’t be alone. I’m going to propose we bring Grey along, as a safety precaution. He’s a fine doctor, and we can say he’ll be there in case something unforeseen happens. And Shad and I will be there, too, as pilots. This is going to be a team effort, okay?”
I nodded, and he squeezed my shoulder, then chuckled. “Like it or not, kid, you’re in the middle of this now.”
But I always had been in the middle of this. I looked at the ground to avoid his eyes.
“The jet I’ve been prepping is pretty much ready to go any day now that The Front’s supplied us with fuel.”
I nodded, thankful for the pep talk. And the truth was, I did feel better about the looming trip to Paris. Maybe with Ben’s coaching, and my friends there to help, it wouldn’t be a complete and utter disaster.
“I should run inside and grab some fresh clothes. Have you seen Grey?”
“About half an hour ago. Said he was going to pick up some supplies at the hospital and be back before we left.”
“He’s not thinking of coming, is he?”
“Sounded like it. Don’t you want him to come?”
“Of course. It’s just that he hasn’t slept in I don’t know how many days, and Teddy and Zak and Andrew and all those men we brought back died. I thought he might need to stay here and rest.”
Daniel squinted into the rising sun and said, “We all deal with tragedy in our own ways.”
By mid-afternoon, we were well on our way back to the beach. Daniel was using the time to help me train for Paris. He’d been into politics in college and knew a thing or two about debate strategies.
“You just have to stay on the offensive. Take a moment before you respond. Collect your thoughts. Don’t react emotionally. Once you’re ready, lodge your counter points, then move back to the offensive. Keep them reacting to you. That’s how you stay on top of every debate. Also, when you’re winning, make sure the maximum amount of people witness it. It’ll show others how smart you are and help you rally others to you.”
I was becoming a bit dizzy with the thought of how much went into every word I was going to speak. It was good advice, but how could I ever implement it all?
“And don’t raise your voice. It’ll make you seem young and irrational. Stay calm. Collected. We’re at a disadvantage because of your age, so we need to play against it. You need to project maturity. And whenever possible, if we can think of some new, edgy ideas, let’s work those points in so your youth might even be seen as a fresh perspective, or a new way of thinking!” Daniel was rattling on and on now. I suddenly wished it was him who’d be representing New Burbank.
We paused in the shade of a freeway overpass for a break. I slid down from Snicket’s back and led her over to where Grey stood next to Gideon, his back to us and his head down.
“Hey,” I greeted him. It felt odd not to have spoken much to him during the ride. He’d listened to Daniel, but never chimed in himself.
He fed Gideon a piece of the apple he was cutting up, then looked at me briefly and smiled. Snicket snorted and stomped one of her front hooves.
“I think she’s jealous,” I said, stroking her soft nose.
Grey sliced off another piece of apple for me. I took it and held it out for Snicket, who plucked it daintily from my palm, crunched it loudly, then stamped her hoof again.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “I was worried this morning when I woke up and you were gone.”
He offered another piece of apple to Snicket. Gideon, offended at his treat being given to someone else, knocked his nose into Grey’s shoulder.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll be fine.” He split the last bit of apple in two, and held out a piece for each of the horses. Then he wiped off the blade and folded the knife.
“Are you...” My voice faltered. “Are you disappointed with me?” I hated how weak my voice sounded. But I had to ask.
He tucked the knife into his pocket and swung up onto Gideon suddenly.
“We’re heading out,” he said, motioning to Daniel mounting his horse ahead of us. “Will you ride beside me?”
I took a deep breath and held it, unsure of what all this meant.
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. I climbed up onto Snicket, and we fell in behind Daniel. I made sure to distance us from him, so we could have some privacy to talk, but for a while, Grey kept silent, his eyes straight ahead.
Finally, he pulled an apple from his saddlebag and polished it on his jacket. He handed it to me, a small smile lighting his face.
I took it, smiling and shaking my head. “I’m not as easily pliable as Snicket, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “But it’s worth a try.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m not disappointed with you, or mad. I’m embarrassed about how I acted last night. I could say I was upset and extremely tired, and both would be true, but I’m also still learning how to properly deal with complicated emotions.”
“You don’t have to hide that from me. If you’re having trouble dealing with something, talk to me about it.”
“It’s hard to change when you’ve been doing something a certain way for three hundred years.”
“I’ve heard it only takes two weeks to form a habit.”
“Well, that’s for someone living a regular lifetime.”
“Then double it, or triple it, even.”
He nodded, and we didn’t say any more. We slept next to each other that night, and I could tell he slept deeply, one hand tucked beneath his head, the other resting on his chest. He was in the same position when I woke the next morning. I rolled up my sleeping bag and nudged him gently until he opened his eyes.
“Coffee?” I whispered. He nodded, and I left him to stoke the fire and hang the kettle over it to heat.
When we were packing up to leave, Grey lifted my saddle onto Snicket’s back for me, and when we were ready to move out, he gave me a leg up. I was pleased by his effort to regain some of the normal behavior between us, but his eyes were still far away, perhaps examining every minute of the last few days for something else he might have done to save the oil rig men from The Plague.
I kept quiet and let him be with his thoughts through the sad, slow drizzle that fell on our trio for half the morning. When Snicket’s hooves finally made contact with the sand on the beach, my toes felt like little blocks of ice, and my face was numb.
We tied up the horses under a makeshift shelter and piled into the one boat. I almost wished we’d had to row so I’d have something to do to keep me warm. Sitting on the wet bench, being sprayed by the rough surf hitting the bow of the boat, was even colder than riding on horseback. I was even too cold to worry about sharks.
We made it to the landing at Castor and, one by one, hauled ourselves out of the boat and up the ladder to the main platform. The rain blew in gusts off the ocean, and the platform was oddly silent compared to the bustling movement of the crew during our first visit.
“Hello?” Daniel called. The waves crashed against the struts and support beams. The vibrations of each collision came up through the floor and reminded me of standing on top of the Hoover Dam, feeling the water coursing through the turbines below.
“Hello!” Daniel shouted, louder this time as the wind picked up. A shiver crept across my shoulders and trickled down my back. Where was everyone?
“Maybe they’re in the galley,” I said. “They wouldn’t be out in this weather if they could help it.”
“They could be over on Pollux,” Daniel said. “We should split up, then meet back here.”
I glanced at Grey, who hung back, a strange look on his face. I went to his side. “What is it?”
He shook his head. It looked as though he saw a ghost.
I waited for him to explain, but he didn’t. I grabbed his arm. “What!”
“Carriers,” he whispered. “You were carriers.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Before Grey could explain further, a shout carried across the water, and we spotted Shad. He crossed the connecting walkway between the two giant oil rigs at a run.
I broke away from Grey and rushed to meet him.
“Where is everyone?” I begged.
Grimness stretched across Shad’s face. There was redness in his eyes and dark circles under them. He shook his head and turned away toward the ocean, grasping the railing of the walkway. Rain peppered his sweatshirt while he gathered himself.
“What? What’s happened?” Daniel demanded. Shad didn’t answer.
“They’re all dead,” Grey answered for him.
Shad nodded, his back still to us. “It was the Crimson Fever. All of the rig workers got sick. Then they all died.”
I looked at Grey, suddenly feeling lightheaded. How had this happened?
“Everyone?” Daniel asked in disbelief.
Shad nodded. “Kevin hung on the longest. He died just this morning.”
“We gave it to them,” I whispered. “We brought it with us.”
“When the first of them got sick a couple days after you guys left, we thought it was a reaction to undercooked fish or something, but then two more developed fevers, and by the next morning, half of the remaining crew was in bed, and I knew.”
Shad looked miserable, his usual mischievous grin nowhere to be seen. I wondered what it had been like to endure what he had, out here with no doctor or supplies.
“Did Teddy and the rest of them...?” Shad started, but his voice faltered.
Grey nodded. “There was an incubation period of a couple days. It appears that every one of us who were originally exposed are all still carriers of The Plague.”
