“How’s Molly?” he asked.
“Much better, but the doctor says she’ll have to stay here for a few days to make sure the infection is really gone.”
Henry nodded. “You better go in, the guy is kind of testy. I think he has a list of people in the City though, so he can find your family.”
Pam’s face brightened and she hurried over to the door. Henry turned and walked to the next office. This one was brightly lit with children’s drawings hanging in the window and an odd feeling of displacement overcame him. It was like a post-apocalyptic kindergarten. Henry shook his head and opened the door. A plump woman sitting at a large round table smiled at him and stood up.
“Hello,” she said, “My name’s Maureen.” She extended a hand toward him. He shook it.
“Henry.”
“Nice to meet you Henry, please have a seat.”
Henry sat in another plastic chair, this one cherry red and too short for the table. Maureen sat across from him in an office chair almost a foot higher. He felt ridiculous.
“Welcome to housing and reproductive services.”
“Reproductive services?”
Maureen smiled. “Yes, well, that’s just part of my spiel, I’m sure you won’t be needing that part, you’re Cured right? Reproductive services is just for Immunes at the moment. But let’s get to work finding you a new home.”
Henry was a little offended without even knowing why. But Maureen turned to the side and sorted through some cracked binders. “Let’s see, not these–” she pulled the top three off and placed them below the table. She glanced back at him. “What’s your work assignment?”
“Allwork? Miscellaneous I gather.”
“Good,” she said cheerily, almost clapping her hands, “that means you have a broader choice. And you’ve retained all your limbs (bravo), so we can give you something that isn’t handicap accessible.”
Henry blushed with embarrassment for her. How could she openly be this rude?
“Do you have children?” she asked as she flipped through the first binder of plastic covered pictures.
“No.”
“Wife?”
“No.”
“So just a single occupancy then.”
“What if I need something bigger later?” Henry thought of finding Marnie.
Maureen smiled and nodded her shiny bob cut bouncing around her full face. “That’s right, nothing attracts like confidence Henry. Goodness knows I’ve seen lots of far more scarred people come through here and later find someone. If you find yourself needing more room, you just come back and see me and I’ll find you a nice family home. Maybe even move you up toward the north side of town if I can manage it.”
Henry blushed, humiliated. He couldn’t remember ever being this angry except when he was sick. He fought it, fearing that the cure wasn’t complete for him or that it would reverse itself.
Maureen placed a small pile of pictures in front of him. “Most of these are over near the docks but there are one or two with space for a garden or some chickens by the far barrier. Of course, you might have to walk farther to work that way.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Henry muttered, too angry even to pick up the photos. She clucked and shook her head.
“You all say that, but it’s a big decision. Why don’t you look through these. I’ll get you an appointment with Furnishings while you decide.”
Henry flipped through them, finally deciding on one small house that was close to the school, hoping not to have to return once he found Marnie. He’d sleep in the living room for the rest of his life if he had to before he’d come back to get a bigger place. He wondered absently what this was going to cost in labor. He was already feeling the weight of future servitude heavy on his neck. It’s better than where you were, he thought, nothing could be as bad as that.
“Is that the one you’ve chosen? It’s a darling little house and so close to everything on the dock side of town,” said Maureen cheerfully, bustling up behind him with a cloth sack that clunked and clattered with something and a small pile of gray papers. She plopped down across from him and took the photograph. She was silent for a moment as she wrote in her records. Then she spilled the contents of the cloth bag onto the table. It was a small pile of brass tokens, the kind Henry remembered from the local arcade he went to when he was a kid. They were spray painted different colors and the paint was beginning to wear off from the touch of hundreds of fingers. “It’s a little clunky and primitive, but it works,” said Maureen, picking up a green token. “Green coins are for produce from the Farm.” She pulled one of the grey lumpy papers from her stack. It was a crude hand drawn map. Henry was surprised to see it wasn’t a photocopy but an original. Ink must be at a premium. He wondered if there were a cluster of monks somewhere in the building hand copying all the records. Maureen circled a large triangular space on the map. “This is the Farm. It used to be the city park, and there are still roadsigns up in case you get lost. They are open for food distribution from ten to four. Your green coins will get you a box with enough food for a day for each, or you can trade in enough for a week at a time. Remember though, your house is quite far–” she circled another small square, “here, so you’ll need something to carry it with. If you are ill or you are on work duty during all Farm hours and can’t be excused you can ask for delivery. However, we’re short on delivery personnel at the moment so we ask that you only utilize them when truly necessary. Understand?”
“Green coins for food. Got it,” said Henry drily.
“Green coins for Farm food. If you go to a diner or a butcher, those are the red miscellaneous coins. You’ll use those for almost everything and your work will pay you mostly in the red coins. They’ll give you seven green coins a week as well, of course. If you are excused from work for any reason, your green coins will be delivered to you, but you’ll receive no extra red coins. I’ll be giving you some of each to start you off and the rest you’ll have to earn.”
“What about the blue coins?”
“Clothing allotment. You’ll start with a good amount, but I suggest you take good care of them. Blue coins are only rarely distributed, usually when a scavenging team finds an unlooted department store or something and once on Christmas. Clothing is a precious commodity here. Try to keep yours clean and free of tears. You can go here to pick up your first batch,” she said circling a third square near the Farm. Henry wished now that they’d stuffed more clothing into their gear. Then again, he wondered if they’d get their gear back at all or if it was just going to get tossed in the community pot. He wondered how Rickey was going to react to all this.
“Do you have any more questions?”
Henry leaned forward to look at the map. “Yeah, where are we now?”
“Silly me,” said Maureen and drew a thick black box around the building hiding behind the curved line of the Barrier.
“And where’s the guy in charge and how do I talk to him?”
“Well, City Hall is here,” she pointed to the silly half circle and box that were meant to symbolize a graceful capitol building, “You can make an appointment to see the Military Governor there, but it might take a while.” She frowned as if she wondered what he could possibly want to bother the governor for.
“Thanks. Is that everything?”
Maureen swept the tokens into the cloth bag and handed it to him, then slid the map and the photo of his new house into the folder.
“Oh yeah,” said Henry, “what about rent? And the furnishing place you were talking about?”
Maureen smiled sweetly, as if she were talking to a small child. “Furnishings is in the same building as Clothing. And the City is happy to provide housing for its inhabitants at no cost.”
Which means I’ll find out later what rent is, Henry thought. He nodded though, and took his bag and folder.
“One more stop and you’ll be on your way,” said Maureen. “Go two doors further on to orientation for a brief presentation on your rights and r
esponsibilities in the City and then you’ll be free to go find your house and work supervisor.”
Henry felt a chill run up his spine. He wished the others were going with him to this orientation. He felt too vulnerable alone.
Twenty-six
Henry loitered in the hall for a few minutes, hoping to see Pam or Vincent coming behind him. Eventually he moved on to the orientation classroom. There was a young man in an apron putting out food for lunch and a soldier helping him.
“Hello,” said the soldier, “why don’t you make yourself at home and grab some lunch, we’re going to wait for the others to finish their interviews. It shouldn’t be long now, I gather most of them went together. When they get here, we’ll start orientation.”
Henry was relieved that he wouldn’t have to go through the presentation alone. He relaxed and waited until the two men left the room. He picked a grainy sandwich and some vegetable sticks and sat at the conference table. He ate without really thinking about it, looking instead at the picture of his small house and wondering how he was going to persuade the governor to help him. Vincent wandered in and sat next to him picking at a salad. “Where’s Pam?” asked Henry.
Vincent grinned. “They found her kids. Called them to come down and meet her. She’ll finish all this stuff later.”
Henry leaned back and smiled. “That’s great, I bet she was happy.”
“Ecstatic. She couldn’t stop crying. She says she’ll track us all down once she’s settled.”
“Just four little Indians left,” said Melissa as she walked in, overhearing them.
“I’m glad Pam and Molly had some good news,” said Henry. He felt lighter, less nervous, as if the news were his instead of theirs.
Rickey sauntered in to the room a few minutes later and propped his feet on the table, chewing on a sandwich. “Gah, everything is vegetarian here,” he said. Henry was secretly glad he hadn’t had to face meat yet. “Henry, where’d they put you for work?”
“Miscellaneous I guess. It’s supposed to be where ever I’m needed I think. How about you?”
“Electric plant. What about the rest of you?”
“Delivery system,” said Melissa, “I’m a supervisor. Because I was a postal worker before I guess.”
“Teacher at the school,” said Vincent. “And church duties if I want to.”
Henry leaned forward. “Do you want to?”
“Good you are all here,” said the soldier from before, interrupting them. “We just have a short video and I’ll be here afterward if you have questions. We want you to get off on the right foot, there’s nothing to be nervous about,” he continued, patting Rickey on the back. Rickey took his feet off the table with a guilty look. The soldier rolled a television into the room and flipped the lights as the video started. The woman they had seen the night before on the news appeared.
“Congratulations on your arrival in the City. Whether you were immune to the December Plague or have just come from the Cure camps, you are welcome here. We’ve made this video to help get you settled more quickly. Since you are watching this, you already know that we’ve restored power, at least in this area. We also have limited telephone and cell service, an operating hospital and police and fire department services.” The screen switched to a shot of the Barrier.
“For security purposes the City is bordered by a concrete barrier on three sides and the bay on the fourth. Military personnel work diligently to make sure you stay safe. While you are free to leave the confines of the Barrier at any time, we ask that you do not, for your own security. You may feel that you have a compelling reason to leave, but the City asks you to consider carefully whether it is truly worth the risk. Scavenger teams are escorted by military personnel every month. If there is an item you need that you think may be got out there please make a request with the scav team. They are trained to go into unsecured locations. Most items that are still available are already within the City itself.”
A busy office filled with embracing people lit the screen now. Henry wondered if that’s where Pam had gone. The woman’s voice continued, “If you are thinking of leaving to locate loved ones, consider that they may be looking for you at the same time. The best thing for you to do is to stay put where it’s safe, so you don’t miss each other. You can register yourself in the Displaced Family office, if you didn’t already do this in the Cure camp. Our DF office has a stellar record of reuniting people and tracking down the fate of those who have become unfortunate casualties of the Plague. Our Cure teams and military are spreading from the City outward in very tight grids. We can assure you that no one will be missed. It is best to wait for trained personnel to locate your friends and family and bring them safely home to you.”
The woman appeared again. “Attacks on the Barrier are rare, but in the event that one happens, please follow the instructions of the military personnel. Attacks by Infected are usually solitary events, since they lack the ability to coordinate with each other. These happened regularly in our early years but have since subsided as the Cure’s distribution has moved farther from the City. Attacks by Looters, while infrequent, are more dangerous and you may be called upon to help defend the Barrier. Invalids, the elderly and children under thirteen are excused from service. Anyone else who refuses a direct order by military personnel during a crisis may face expulsion. Anyone with knowledge of an impending attack who does not alert the proper authorities will also face expulsion or execution.”
Henry felt his stomach grow tight. He hoped the other rules didn’t carry such harsh punishments. Rickey raised his arm as if he were in a classroom. “Hey,” he said, trying to get the soldier’s attention. The video paused.
“Yes?” said the soldier.
“Look, do we really have to watch this broad? I mean, can’t you just give us the rules or something, tell us how things really work?”
The soldier shrugged then walked to the door and peered into the hallway. He closed it and flipped the lights back on. “I guess it’d be okay, most of this stuff is for Immunes anyway. They don’t care so much what we do.”
“We?” asked Melissa.
The soldier rolled up his pant leg to show them and ill-fitting prosthetic leg. “We. I was Cured a few years ago. Thought I was one of the last actually. We haven’t seen many more roll in and never ones that didn’t get the run through at a Cure camp.” He sat next to Henry at the conference table. “You guys must be so messed up. No offense, of course. But I mean, you wake up eight years later with no one to tell you how things are or what to do, with all those memories. I’ve got ‘em too, but at least at the Cure camp they help you try to deal with them. Explain things, sort of.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how confused you guys are. That video is supposed to run another two hours so we’ve got time if you want to ask me anything.”
“How about what else gets us tossed out or executed?” asked Rickey.
“Well, about what you’d expect. Violence or theft will get you one or the other. There’s no tolerance for either here. Even if you’re starving, you don’t steal from other people around here. And even if the guy that ate your wife or kid is living next door, you don’t attack him. Well, I guess in our case it’d be the guy that shot at us or our wife and kid. The City would fall apart otherwise. It was really bad in the beginning I guess. Cured folks would come in and be hunted down for stuff they did when they were sick. But this Military Governor took over eventually and he’s kept a tight control over that sort of thing. If you have a problem with someone, you take it to the police. We have courts, just like before, for things like vandalism or shady trading, small stuff like that. The big things go before the Governor himself.”
“What happens for the small stuff?” asked Rickey, as if he were already contemplating doing something not-quite-legal.
The soldier scratched at the back of his neck. “Mostly extra work or repairing the damage that you caused. But breaking the vice laws are usually just extra work penalties.”
> “Vice laws?” asked Vincent.
“Yeah, but like I said, they mostly only care if the Immunes do those. Alcohol is illegal and so is smoking,” he said pointing to the cigarette behind Rickey’s ear, “but as long as we don’t get drunk in public and cause a problem, no one cares too much. If we were Immune though, we could get in trouble. They don’t want to lose any of that precious Immune DNA, so anything that causes bodily harm is not allowed. So drugs, alcohol, we’re all tested for STDs when we get here–”
“Us too?”
“Yeah, that’s what the blood work was for, among other things. If you have one that’s not treatable (and they’re mostly not treatable these days) you’ll be monitored by someone from DHRS and if they find out you’re interested in a healthy Immune, they’ll warn that person away. Not that Immunes and Cured get together that often. Some stuff is more scarce than illegal. Like the cigarettes and cars– they just let us sort of run out and then it’s not a problem anymore. Only military people and emergency workers get gas for cars and alcohol is reserved for medical use at the hospital. But everyone knows where the closest moonshine bar is and you can get all sorts of contraband from them, not just alcohol. Like I said, for us, those rules are far more relaxed. We’re allowed to endanger ourselves as long as we do it in private.” The soldier looked like he wanted to spit, but didn’t.
“So we’re second class citizens then?” Henry asked.
“You asking me what the official orientation would say or what I would say?”
“Both I guess.”
“It’s not overt. I mean, there’s no rule to put us in our place or tell us we can’t be friends with the Immunes or have the same rights, in fact it’s clearly written in the code that we all have the same rights and are meant to be treated as equals. But things are different when you give actual people a say. I mean, I guess I can understand how it all started. All of a sudden, these people that have forced them to the brink of extinction wake up and realize what they were doing was wrong. Not only do these people need massive amounts of medical care, but they need food and shelter and jobs too. And there’s no place for them to go but right alongside their old enemies behind this wall. I can understand putting them down on the dock side. There’s lots of empty, ready to go houses down there, and it’s near the hospital which they’ll need on an almost daily basis. And then, there’s not quite enough food to go around, so maybe the new people get skimped a little bit. After all, they’ve just woken up after eating your relatives. Why do they deserve to eat more than someone who never did those terrible things? Yes, yes, they were sick, they were out of control and wouldn’t have chosen to do it- but still, the fact remains that they committed murder. Part of what the City needs is more laborers. There are thousands of ‘em, just been Cured. You don’t know what’s really happened in their brains. Are they functional? Will they revert? Are they even capable of skilled tasks? So they get put into grunt work, even if they are skilled at other things. Just in case.
The Cured Page 17
