The Cured

by Deirdre Gould

  “I know. That’s why we need to leave. I wish we could stay, I think we could do very well here. I confess, I expected more from the Governor. An investigation at least, some kind of help. But it seems he blames people like us for all of the City’s troubles. Even if Phil were not the issue, I know now that we are not welcome here. Not really. We could spend the rest of our lives fighting for acceptance here or we could spend it fighting for existence out there. I will choose what you choose.”

  They were all silent for a few moments. Vincent went back to cooking. “Can you find your way back to that farm?” asked Rickey.

  “Yes,” said Melissa, “it should be easy to get to.”

  “We’re no better off than when we left it in the first place Rickey,” said Vincent, “we face the same problems we did before we came.”

  “In a month Henry and I will be strong enough to plow a garden at least.”

  “It may be too late to plant in a month.”

  Rickey nodded. “I know, that’s why we should go back to that suburb. We only made a quick check. There is probably more we could use.”

  “There were already other people there,” Henry reminded him.

  “Just a kid, maybe a few kids. We can save up any extra credits we have and buy supplies on our way out just in case we can’t find anything. If we pool all of our credits we should have a lot.”

  “You don’t think someone will try to stop us if they see us stockpiling?” asked Melissa.

  Rickey shrugged. “Why should they? There’s no law against leaving is there? And if we are open about why we’re leaving, maybe other people will be interested in joining us. After today, we’re going to be watched. Why not just be honest? At least we’ll have some people on our side then.”

  “Because I still don’t want Phil knowing who we are,” said Henry, “He’s still dangerous. Just because the Governor has scruples about revenge doesn’t mean that Phil does. If you must talk, let it be about Cureds versus Immunes, not about what happened to us.”

  Melissa scowled. “He should be exposed. The whole City should know what he’s done. If he decides to attack me out in the open, so much the better, it will be more proof.”

  Henry sat down across from her. “He won’t attack you in the open. He won’t attack you at all. He’ll go after your coworkers, your friends. Pam’s kids. Vincent’s parishioners. That’s how he ran his camp. He held onto something dear to everyone, always threatening.”

  “So we’re just supposed to leave and let him continue this better life without any consequence at all?”

  Henry leaned back in his seat and looked steadily at her. He could hear Rickey and Vincent a few feet away dishing out food and talking in low voices. “No,” he said, his voice a spare, distant rumble traveling toward her, “that isn’t what’s going to happen.”

  Melissa shifted and leaned in toward him. “What are you going to–” But Rickey slid a plate of food in front of her and they talked no more that night.

  Henry wandered back to his tiny house a few hours later. He flipped on the lights and closed the door. He looked at the couch where he had been sleeping. He stumbled into the lone bedroom, the twin bed neatly made, waiting for Marnie. He sat on the edge of the bed, his mind constantly shuttling between his broken promise to Elizabeth and everything, everyone he’d lost. He slept in the bed, dreaming of his father and sister, of Dave and Elizabeth and Marnie, of Wyatt and Mrs. Palmer in her shattered apartment.

  Thirty-seven

  Henry paced inside the All-Work warehouse ten minutes after the others had left for the Farm. Phil was late again. Melissa had offered Henry a spot on her delivery team so he wouldn’t have to meet Phil again, but Henry had refused. He told her it was so that one of them could keep an eye on Phil, warn the others in case he started to suspect them. But the truth was that Henry was determined to know if Marnie had really died, whether she’d suffered, where Phil had dumped her. Henry was going to find out in the next month. And then Phil was going to pay, limb by bloody limb for what he’d taken.

  Phil lumbered into the warehouse, yawning. “Oh,” he said, realizing he and Henry were the only ones left, “You didn’t need to wait for me, I know the way now.”

  Henry felt a grin eat away at his clenched jaw. “No problem,” he said, “It’s not like the seeds are going to notice a few minutes either way.” He slid a bundle over toward Phil.

  “Where were you yesterday?” asked Phil as he shouldered the tool bag.

  “One of the delivery crew was sick and they really needed someone to take his place. Why?”

  “The little split tail that runs this place got her panties in a bunch when you weren’t around. But then that darkie farmer said he knew where you was and she cooled off right quick.”

  Henry felt a tremor of revulsion pass through his gut to hear Stephanie and Amos talked about that way. But he just grinned wider and said, “Ain’t that always the way with women though? Always poking their noses into other people’s business before they take care of their own.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Phil, “some of ‘em just need a man to put ‘em back in their place. Especially now. Thank goodness that whole women’s lib thing’s gone the way of the dodo, now that they need us again.”

  “Have you got a woman?” Henry asked, hating himself as he did so.

  Phil walked toward the door. “Nah, not since the camp I was in before,” he rubbed the scar on his jaw.

  “Didn’t she come with you to the City?” asked Henry. He said it casually but his heart banged and popped in his chest like a string of ladyfingers. They stepped out of the cool building into the shimmering spring morning. Phil squinted against it.

  “No, she didn’t make it. Most of my mates didn’t make it.”

  “Jesus, what happened? I though you brought all your people here.”

  Phil nodded. “I would’ve. I really would’ve Henry, but remember how I told you I was taking care of my sick friend, the other Henry?”

  “Sure,” said Henry, his muscles beginning to ache with built-up adrenaline.

  “Well I was taking care of a lot of sick people. You know, keeping them safe so they wouldn’t run off and freeze or starve or get into fights with each other.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you,” said Henry.

  “Aw, any man would’ve done the same if he had the chance.”

  Henry’s hands shook around the rope of his bundle. Phil shrugged. “Anyway, this little twist got it into her head that I was abusing them. She couldn’t understand that without me, they’d have been dead months before. So one night, she gave my men some drugged food and extra alcohol. And then she crept through the camp and let all the sick people out of their– their rooms. She didn’t warn nobody. She locked away some of her little friends in the big building and left my men out in their tents, all fast asleep and drugged. The sick people didn’t know what they was doing. They just did what come natural. By the time my men woke up, it was too late. They had to shoot most of the sick people and some of my men got hurt pretty bad. My woman too, she got killed.”

  “What happened to the rest?” Henry asked.

  But Phil lifted his chin toward the Farm gate. “Looks like the darkie’s calling you. We’ll talk again later.”

  Henry tried to calm down before he reached Amos who was staring at them intently. He took a spot at the seed table without saying anything. Amos didn’t ask him anything, just went back to sorting. It was a good hour before either one spoke.

  “We need to get these seed packets out to the workers. It’s time to start planting the early stuff. Next week I’ll take you to the greenhouse,” said Amos, handing him a tray of seed envelopes.

  “Any particular order these should go in?”

  “One tray is one crop and should do one square of the field. Light and water’s pretty even, so doesn’t matter which plot gets which crop. Except these,” said Amos, pushing a few trays to one side, “those are corn and wheat. They go in back, too
tall for everything else.”

  “Have you been doing this a long time? Farming I mean?”

  “Since before the Plague. Not always here though. Been all over the world building irrigation ditches, finding high yield plants, fighting vermin.” Amos grinned.

  “Think you can teach me some? Not everything, I know I can’t learn it all, but say, enough to start my own garden?”

  Amos squinted at him. He seemed about to ask something, but then he waved Henry away. “Go start trucking those seeds out and we’ll talk about it later. You can buy me a beer.”

  Henry jogged out into the sunny, sweet smelling fields. He tried not to look over at Phil, tried to forget the dark, frozen past and look forward to the quiet, hay filled barn and the unfurling leaves of a wide garden near a still pond at the farmhouse he had woken in.

  Henry tried to corner Phil again, but they were never left completely alone. He didn’t dare to ask anything else around other people, so Henry just shrugged and assumed Phil would be late again the next morning anyway. Most of the workers bolted at the last bell, but Stephanie, Amos and Henry stayed until dusk covering the planted plots with thin, tattered tarps.

  “Going to have to patch these again,” scowled Amos.

  “What do you patch them with?” asked Henry.

  “We used to just sew the holes closed, but when the tears got too big we’d patch them with other old tarps. Past few years I’ve started using rags. Plastic’s kind of hard to come by now. I don’t like the cloth, it rots in the rain, but it gets the job done for one season anyway. Keeps the seeds from freezing in case we planted too early.”

  “Is that my first tip?” asked Henry.

  Amos stopped fiddling with the tarp and looked intently at him. “When are you planning on planting this garden?”

  “Next month. Maybe the month after.”

  Amos nodded and looked disappointed. “You won’t need tarp then. You’ll have to worry about frost at the end though.” He studied Henry for another minute. “Do any of you have a clue how to do any of this? Or you just trying to wing it? ‘Cause this isn’t the Mayflower Henry. No one’s going to come bail you out in the spring with a big shipment of food. Or in the middle of winter for that matter.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll teach you what I can, but there’s a big difference between hearing and doing. And between gardening as a hobby and farming for survival.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful for the help.”

  Stephanie walked up, shaking the soil from her jeans. “Why are you two so serious? What are you talking about?”

  “Whether this quarantine’s going to slow beer production,” rumbled Amos.

  “Oh, that is serious,” said Stephanie, “We better get to Margie’s before they run out.”

  “Race you,” said Amos, locking the iron gate behind them.

  Thirty-eight

  Rickey was already at Margie’s by the time Henry arrived. He was sitting with the soldier that they had met during orientation. The soldier looked exhausted but greeted Henry warmly and shook hands with Stephanie and Amos.

  “You look like death warmed over,” said Amos.

  “I’ve been assigned to the dental clinic, I just rotated off.”

  “The one they made into a quarantine station?”

  “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people thought they had it. Hell, tired as I am, you could almost convince me that I was infected too, if I didn’t know better.”

  “Was anyone really infected?” asked Henry.

  “Nah, I doubt it. We ruled out most of them anyway, just because they didn’t have any contact at all with anyone involved. There are a few family members, friends of people in the courtroom, that sort of thing, but the doctors tell us they’ve pretty much narrowed down the window of infection to that one court session. Still, we’re holding on to a few of them, but they don’t have any symptoms that they didn’t cook up in their own heads.”

  “It’s just people getting scared. Can’t blame anyone for that,” said Amos.

  The soldier nodded. “The symptoms are so vague, too. Someone doesn’t sleep enough, has kind of a clumsy day or is a little cranky and they suddenly panic. A person could go crazy just from a few suggestive incidents.”

  The words echoed like tossed rocks in Henry’s head. He didn’t say anything, but he saw the glance that Rickey shot him and knew he wasn’t the only one who would remember what the soldier had said. Amos finally spoke up when the others got up to play a round of pool and the bartender turned the television up a level.

  “I take it the Governor isn’t going to pursue the matter of the gravedigger?”

  Henry shook his head.

  “So you’re leaving. How many people are you going to take with you?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. I assume just us four plus Molly. I don’t think Pam will want to go, her family is here. But we’ll take anyone that wants to go and is willing to work I guess.”

  “You know there’s been talk of starting a colony somewhere outside the City, right?”

  “Yeah I heard. I don’t know if we’ll have any way to defend that many people. I wasn’t planning on starting another town, just leaving this one. We don’t even have a doctor. Or a farmer. Unless this is you angling for an invite. In which case, pack your bags.”

  “No one has ever left the City before, Henry.”

  “What? That can’t be true.”

  “I don’t mean no one has ever gone beyond the Barrier. Plenty of people have. No one’s ever made a permanent break with this place though. There are people from Cure Camps that took a while to come in, but once a person is here, they tend to stay.”

  “I saw people at the gate the night they announced the new Plague risk.”

  “Yeah, those people would have been turned back or gone to stay outside for a few weeks. They won’t stay gone forever, I guarantee that they all left most of their possessions here. And this isn’t the kind of world where you leave what you own.”

  Henry shrugged. “Okay, so no one has left before. What’s your point? If you are trying to warn me that I’ll regret it, believe me, we’ve discussed it at length. It’s better than living here with him.”

  Amos shook his head. “I’m not trying to persuade you of anything. No one’s ever left before, but there’s been plenty of talk about it. Especially among the Cured. People are tired of being treated like they caused all of this. I don’t blame them. I’m just saying, if you go about this open and honest like it seems you want to, don’t be surprised if there are more people waiting at the gate to go with you than you expected.”

  “Why would anyone decide to come with us? If there are people talking, then there are people planning. Which is better than what we’re doing.”

  “Planning and doing are two different things.”

  “I don’t even know if we’ll make it through one winter, just the five of us. How would we do it with more mouths to feed?”

  Amos shook his head. “You won’t make it, just the five of you. Even if you raise or scrounge enough food, you’ll just get raided by looters. Or one of you will get sick or have an accident. There’s power in numbers. It may be the only real power left in this tired out world. That’s why people have waited for so long to make a break with the City. We aren’t stupid. We know things are rotten here. And getting more rotten by the day. But we’re scared. A group like yours– it might seem small to you, but it’s a start. Like a piece of grit in an oyster. You let enough people get drawn to you, and you’ll have a real shot. Of changing things. Or just starting over.” Amos looked around at the tired, sad faces watching the television screens. “Yeah, that’s what we all need. It’s time to start over. Pull out the leftover weeds from the old world. Burn off the chaff and be left with a blank field.”

  “So you’re coming?” asked Henry.

  “It’s going to be hard to give up Margie’s beer,” he said leaning back in his chair. He looked over at Henry a
nd his face broke into a slow grin. “It’s going to be rough you know. Not just the farming part. All of it.”

  “I know.”

  “And you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing.”

  “I know that too.”

  “Yeah, I’m going too.”

  Henry laughed. “Why?”

  “Because I’m tired of looking at that damn Barrier and wondering if there are more people behind it somewhere. And I’m tired of living under someone else’s rule. I grew up a free man in a free society. My kid– if my daughter were here, I’d want her to be able to choose what she wanted to do when she grew up. I’d want her to be able to decide when she’s ready to have her own kids, if ever. Not assigned to a mate at thirty by some government department just to reproduce her immunity. I hope she’d be upset by the way we treat the Cureds. I hope she would understand that I did terrible things to survive, but that she didn’t have to and that it wasn’t acceptable any more. That people like Phil don’t belong among good men. And that good people don’t do the things we’ve done. Not now, not again. I want to be a good man again. Live among good people. So I’m going with you.”

  Henry stared into his beer. Amos chuckled. “Don’t start sweating. I’m not hitching my moral star to you or anyone else. I just want the chance to try to be someone different. You can still keep your nefarious plot, whatever it is.”

  “Why do you think you aren’t good?”

  “Because I’ve seen too much and stopped too little of it. I’ve seen the food distributors short Cured families in skimpy harvests, when we should all be shorted. But Immunes never are. I don’t say anything, because I always figured maybe they should stand up for themselves. But they never had anyone to appeal to. I never hired a Cured to be a food distributer or a supervisor. I just wanted to go with the flow, not cause waves. Figured it would be bad for whoever I hired first that wasn’t Immune anyway. Didn’t want the hassle for me or for them. My wife would have been ashamed of me for that. I’m ashamed of that. Then there’s this place,” he said, glancing around.