The Cured

by Deirdre Gould

  “I think I can manage a few marshmallows, sure. Henry? How about you?”

  “Sure, just let me staple this last bit. You go on in, I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Marnie started running inside and whirled around. “Don’t turn them on without me,” she said.

  “Nope, you’re the official switch flipper.”

  They disappeared inside and Henry managed to attach the last few lights without stapling his hand. He began climbing down the ladder. He frowned and looked down as one foot slid on a rung. They weren’t that wet. He went a little slower, but he was still a few feet off the ground when his leg missed the next rung completely and he fell with a thump into the snow. For a few seconds he couldn’t breathe and then it came back with a cold groan, as if his lungs were a creaky door. Elizabeth came running out and into the snow.

  “Henry, what happened? Are you hurt?”

  He sat slowly up. “I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me. I must have slipped.” No I didn’t. My foot never even touched the rung. What is wrong with me? I feel like I’m drunk. And not just tipsy either. The thought struck him almost as hard as the fall had and he sat in the snow as Elizabeth worried over him. Marnie came to the door and looked out, a porcelain cup in her hands. Henry got up and brushed himself off.

  “Come on,” Elizabeth said, “You should get some dry clothes and warm up. You’ve been out here all day.”

  Henry stomped the snow off his boots as he climbed the back porch steps. Marnie gave him the cup.

  “For me?” he asked.

  “I’ll take care of you if you take care of me,” said Marnie, her face serious.

  “What’s that?” Elizabeth asked closing the swollen back door behind her.

  “Nothing,” said Marnie and ran into the living room. Elizabeth watched her and Henry sank down into a hard wood chair at the table.

  “Do you know what she’s talking about?” asked Elizabeth, turning to face him.

  Henry pulled off a cold boot while he thought about what he wanted to say. He threw a wet clump of snow at the wood stove so he could watch it sizzle and pop. “I know it’s not really my place. I mean, I don’t know anything about kids Liz. I think the news is making her frightened. It’s not making me very comfortable either actually. Maybe you and Dave can– I don’t know, shut it off once in a while or turn it down?”

  “We’re just trying to keep informed about what’s going on.”

  Henry bent over to pull off his other boot. “I know.”

  Elizabeth sat across from him, the pale kitchen light catching in all the tiny lines around her tired eyes. “I just want to get back for Christmas and have the whole thing behind us. I’m not sure how much longer we can stay out here. We’re going to have to go to town for food very soon.”

  Henry sat up and looked at her sharply. “Do you and Dave have any kind of plan, in case we have to stay?”

  Elizabeth laughed, but she started flicking a splinter in the table obsessively. “Oh Henry, don’t tell me you’re one of those doomsday people. The government will work it out. I’m sure it will only be a few weeks. The news is still broadcasting, there’s still power. Things can’t be that bad.”

  Henry pushed a hand through his damp hair. He took a gulp of lukewarm chocolate. “Yeah, I know, the authorities will sort it out. But, Liz, what if we have to fend for ourselves for a few weeks more until they do? Someone’s going to have to go get some supplies and we’re going to need to button this place up some more.” Elizabeth didn’t look convinced. “At least so Marnie doesn’t get worried when things aren’t normal,” Henry continued. It was his last bid for help, the only appeal he thought would snap her and Dave out of their inaction. Elizabeth glanced into the living room where Marnie was playing on the floor behind Dave’s chair.

  “Okay, Henry, what do you want me to do?”

  Henry looked over at Dave. He watched the blue and green images bounce off Dave’s glasses for a minute and wondered how much was actually getting through. He turned back to Elizabeth. “Look, I’ll go. I know you have Marnie. And Dave– I know he’d rather be here to protect you. But I need some help planning it and getting ready. There’s no plow, so I’ll have to walk. We’re going to need to make a sled or something to bring it back with.”

  Elizabeth nodded absently, already making a list in her head.

  “And I’m going to need some kind of– of weapon. In case.”

  “We’re in the woods Henry, there’s no one here.”

  “I know, Liz. It’s just in case. I heard a wolf near the shed yesterday,” Henry lied.

  “Let’s think about it. You don’t have to leave tomorrow, do you? Just give me a few days to work things out.”

  Henry nodded. But as it turned out, they didn’t have a few more days.

  Seven

  Henry’s bedroom door swung open and hit the wall with a heavy thump. Henry sat up partway and then sank back for a second until his head cleared. He reached for the lamp and the switch clicked but nothing happened.

  “Henry?” the small voice floated through the dark room. Henry rubbed his eyes and swung his feet onto the chilly floor.

  “Marnie? What’s wrong? Where are your parents?”

  “In the car. They’re fighting.”

  Henry puffed out a silent sigh. “It’s okay Marnie. Can you turn on the hall light? I can’t see anything.”

  “The lights won’t turn on. Here.” A bright round ball flashed on in the doorway. Henry laughed.

  “What is that?”

  “Pookta,” said Marnie.

  “Oh,” said Henry and shook his head. Still, the stuffed animal’s belly did give off decent light. He got up and went to the doorway. “Okay, let’s go find some candles and start the wood stove again. You and Pookta lead the way.”

  Marnie slid a small hand into his and Henry had to stop himself from pulling his hand back. Where was her mother? Hadn’t they noticed the lights go out? Kids were supposed to go to their mom when they were scared.

  “At least we don’t have to listen to the sick people yell any more,” said Marnie as they threaded their way between the ragged armchair and the dark television.

  Thank God for small favors, thought Henry. “Check the drawers Marnie, see if you can find candles or a flash light. I’m going to open the stove so we can see. Don’t get near it.”

  He yanked on the swollen back door and stepped, hissing onto the snow-covered back porch in his bare feet. He grabbed an armful of wood and tried not to notice the dark, open door of the wood shed and the hunched shadows of the trees devouring the yard. He could hear raised voices, but they were muffled. He assumed it was Elizabeth and Dave. At least they’d taken it outside. Henry went back in the house and poked the dying fire in the stove. He was glad he’d moved the wood up to the porch. Marnie was lining up small wax candles on the kitchen counter.

  “Any flashlights Marnie?” Henry threw a chunk of wood into the stove. His feet ached with the cold. These old houses built on posts just never got warm. They’d have to find a way to insulate it better.

  “No flashlights.”

  “That’s okay,” said Henry. He lit two of the candles. “Don’t touch, okay?”

  “I know.”

  Marnie sat at the table, her legs dangling in the cold air. “Do you want to go get one of your blankets?”

  Marnie shuddered. “No,” she said, “not by myself.”

  Henry threw another log into the stove and added some cardboard. He heard the front door open and Dave swore as his shin hit something.

  “Are you afraid of the dark Marnie?” Henry was asking. Elizabeth walked into the kitchen.

  “Marnie’s never been afraid of the dark,” she said, confused.

  Henry shrugged, his back to them as he coaxed the fire back to life. “It’s no big deal, I was afraid of the dark for a long time. And she seemed pretty scared when she came to get me.”

  “It wasn’t the dark that scared me,” said Marnie, “I
t was the face.”

  Henry felt a cold ache settle into his spine and shoulders. He turned slowly around. He kept his voice even and his face neutral. “What face was that Marnie?”

  “There was a man’s face looking into my bedroom window,” said Marnie, “I think he was hurt. And he looked really cold. But I don’t think he saw me, I pretended to be asleep.”

  “But that was just a dream, wasn’t it honey? Sometimes we see scary things in our dreams when we’re worried.” Elizabeth said, smiling.

  Marnie looked doubtful and hesitated. Henry casually pulled on a wet boot and then the other. “Where are you going Henry?” the girl asked, avoiding her mother’s question.

  Henry smiled and slid his coat over his t-shirt. “We’re going to need more wood and its too cold to go out with my bare feet any more.” He pulled his jacket from the hook. “Hey, Dave,” he called, “Want to help me grab some more wood?”

  Dave came scowling into the kitchen. “I need to check the breakers Henry. You and Marnie must have overloaded a fuse with those damn twinkle lights. Can’t you get the wood yourself?”

  Henry stared at him and thought about shaking him or hitting him to knock some sense into the man, but Elizabeth put a hand on Dave’s arm. “I’ll check the fuses Dave, why don’t you go with Henry. Besides, I don’t think its a fuse. Someone probably ran into a pole down the road. There’s not much we can do but wait until they fix it.”

  Dave swore under his breath and pushed past Henry onto the dark porch. “You coming?” he snapped.

  Henry glanced at Elizabeth. “You and Marnie stay in the kitchen and get warm. Besides all the candles are in here. We’ll be right back,” he looked at Marnie. “Stay here,” he said and pulled the back door closed with a thump. Dave was piling logs into his arms.

  “Why’d you close the door Henry?” he fumed.

  “Shh, Dave. I didn’t need you to carry wood. Marnie saw someone outside her window while you guys were in the car.”

  “What?”

  “She saw a guy, he looked into the window at her. She thinks he was hurt.”

  Dave dropped the logs. “Jesus. What if he’s infected?”

  “He probably just went off the road and had an accident, but I didn’t want to find him by myself.”

  “Does Elizabeth know?”

  “She thinks Marnie was dreaming.”

  Dave shrugged, “Maybe she was.”

  Henry grabbed a slim log of birch. “You want to chance it?” he asked and walked quietly down the porch steps holding the log like a club. He heard the back door open and looked back.

  “Sorry Henry,” Dave hissed, “I have to keep my wife and daughter safe.” The swollen door squealed shut. Henry ground his teeth together. What was he doing with these cowards? He would have been better off on his own. Then Henry remembered hiding in his apartment as something scrabbled outside, eating his neighbors. He shuddered. Maybe this was better. He gripped the slippery log tightly and trudged through the snow toward Marnie’s bedroom. The snow was rucked up and piled everywhere from Marnie’s play, so Henry couldn’t tell if there were fresh footprints or not. He tried to catch his breath before he turned the corner of the house. He shouldn’t be this out of breath. He wasn’t a gym rat but he was fit and healthy. A dozen feet, even in heavy snow shouldn’t have worn him out. Henry told himself that it was just because he was scared. He swung himself around the side of the house in one quick motion, holding the log in front of his face, just in case. The moon was weak and the little piles of snow cast dark shadows in the hollow spots, but Henry could see there was no one next to Marnie’s window now. He checked the windows along the side of the lodge. All firmly closed. He looked around near his feet and saw some spreading blackness. A ripple of unease climbed his shoulders and neck. Henry looked around for more. A splash here, a dot there, a trail of night melting the snow. Henry followed it. The man was definitely hurt. Had he been attacked, or just had a car accident? The blood led away from the house and became a clear path of footsteps looping into the untouched field. Henry looked back at the house. There were candles lighting the kitchen now, but no one was even watching at the window for him. An ugly part of him rose up and wondered if he ought to just leave them now. Just walk back into town and take his chances. Let them deal with whatever dark surprise was waiting at the other end of the string of blood beads. But there was the kid. Whatever it was could grab her. It wasn’t her fault that her parents were worse than useless.

  She’s not mine. She’s nothing to do with me, thought Henry, even as his feet followed the wounded man’s footsteps back toward the dark shed. He glanced back at the house to make sure she wasn’t watching. What’s going to happen if I’m not here? Her parents will make a stupid mistake sooner or later. A deeper thought sprung up at him as he stumbled in the heavy snow. What’s going to happen if I stay? Time to stop pretending Henry. I’m infected. Infected. How much time do I really have left to help them anyway? Henry looked up from the snow and found himself near the gaping entrance to the wood shed. Shit, he thought. He pressed his back against the wall of the shed. He took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on the log. He felt ridiculous and terrified at the same time.

  “Hello?” he said. “Is there anyone in there?”

  A dull, rattling groan crawled out of the shed and into the still, cold air. “Look, I’ve got a– I’ve got a weapon. Just say something so I know you aren’t sick.”

  “Help.” Henry wasn’t entirely sure he had heard correctly.

  “I can’t see to help you. Can you come out a little so I can see what’s wrong?”

  There was a harsh dragging sound and then a sticky hand flopped out of the door frame and onto the snow. Henry looked at the log in his hand and back down at the bloody hand. Shit, he thought again. He put the log at his feet and clasped the hand. He tried to be gentle, but the man was large and Henry had to pull him across the snow. At last, he was out of the shed and lying on the snow. The man’s right eye was bruised and his nose wasn’t much more than a crooked faucet for blood. “What happened?” asked Henry, “Were you bitten?”

  The man shook his head. “Almost, but not quite. Snowmobile accident when I almost ran over one of those freaks up the road. She chased me into the woods, but I got her. She won’t be biting nobody.” The man chuckled and the blood from his nose gurgled and spat. Henry pulled him upright. He got the man halfway over his shoulder. He pulled back toward the house while the man leaned on him, his feet dragging against the snow.

  “C’mon buddy, you have to help me. You got to stay awake.” The man shook his head, trying to clear it and Henry tried not to think of the blood droplets spraying over his jacket. What does it matter anyway? he thought, I’m already infected. Can’t really afford to worry about long-term diseases anymore. The man was cold but he wasn’t shivering and Henry could feel his skin rubbing away like an old sticker where Henry’s hand held his bare arm. “Stay awake. What’s your name buddy? Tell me something about you so you can stay awake.” The yard hadn’t looked this long when he was lugging wood. He had an impression that he was moving slower and not just because of the added weight.

  “Phil. My name’s Phil,” the words were almost drowned, part of the blood that sprayed from his lips. “Think my legs are broken.”

  “We’re almost there, Phil. We’ll get you fixed up.”

  Henry reached the bottom step of the porch. The kitchen door squealed open. Dave stood there holding a shovel as if it were a rifle. “What are you doing Henry?”

  Henry tried to catch his breath. “This is Phil. He was in a snowmobile accident. He’s not infected.”

  “And you know that how? Because he told you? You don’t know anything about him. He could be lying.”

  Henry tensed, his skin warming. He tried to stay calm. “Relax Dave. I know because he hasn’t tried to eat me.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t sick. Or a robber. Or worse. You can’t bring him in here.”

  Phil
groaned and slumped more against Henry. “Dave, he’s hurt. He’s not going to be able to do anything to anyone for a long time.”

  Dave shook his head and gripped the shovel tighter. “This is ridiculous,” said Henry, putting a foot on the next step.

  “Don’t make me hit you Henry.”

  Henry looked up at Dave with a sneer. He took a deep breath and bit his tongue. He pulled Phil up the step.

  “Stop Henry, I’ll do it.” Dave raised the shovel.

  Henry sighed. “Let’s pretend that you’d actually have the guts to hit me. What is it you want me to do with him? Leave him to die on the porch?”

  Dave shrugged. “What do I care?”

  Henry squinted at him. “Really? You want your wife to stumble over him when she comes outside for wood? Or your kid to watch him stiffen in his own frozen blood while she eats her corn flakes?”

  Dave spluttered.

  “Didn’t think so. Either get out of the way or come help me. This guy isn’t lightweight.” Henry grunted as he pulled Phil up the stairs and into the warm kitchen. Dave scuttled in behind them and shut the door.

  Eight

  Henry sat in the road at the top of a hill. Below him was the tiny grocery store that served the dwindling local population. He hadn’t seen any movement in the twenty minutes he’d been there, but he was going to wait until dark anyway. If he couldn’t see them, then they wouldn’t see him.

  The man from the woodshed, Phil, had been worse off than any of them had thought. Henry and Elizabeth had done their best to help him. Dave had complained and refused to assist in any way. He had wanted them to drag Phil back to the road and leave him there. In truth, Henry and Elizabeth couldn’t do much that would have mattered except to keep him warm and dry. Neither of them knew more than basic first aid. Knowing the man’s body would either heal itself or fail completely left Henry restless and frustrated. He had a nagging idea that his own infection was progressing faster than expected, and he imagined that he was having trouble concentrating. So when the brittle, bright morning came, Henry had proposed going to town for food and batteries and medicine. If he didn’t do it then, there might not be time to ever get it done. No one but Marnie had wanted to go with him, so Henry shrugged and set out alone, dragging a wood palette with a rope behind him over the snow.