Before The Cure (Book 2): The Infected

by Gould, Deirdre

  “I’m sorry,” said Neil, afraid he’d angered the man, “I didn’t mean any offense, just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “I know. I’m not offended. And— it’s not a crazy question. In a sane world, we would be punished for the things we’ve done. We don’t have enough people to lock each other up. And if we started trials for everyone who’s hurt someone in the past few years, it’d never end. The Immunes killed people too. Most of them in order to survive, but not all of them. We have to live together. Sometimes, that’s punishment enough.” Elijah fell silent as they walked. Neil wanted to ask more but got the sense that he wasn’t going to get many more answers from Elijah. Not yet, anyway.

  They’d almost reached the tree line. The sound of the camp had dwindled into a few low engine rumbles as a truck pulled in. The crickets chirping overtook even that. Neil took a deep breath and looked up, staring at the stars. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen the sky in over two years. He hadn’t been aware of missing it. Not until now.

  “Used to do this when a dinner shift got too stressful,” he muttered, letting his head tip all the way back. “Someone would break a plate or send a dish back with a nasty complaint. Always happened when the tickets were backed up and the grill wasn’t heating correctly and the walk-in froze up. And I’d just— drop what I was doing and walk out the back door. The expediter used to go crazy every time I did it. Like, scream at me. And I’d always tell him it was better for me to walk away for five minutes and then catch up than it was for me to blow my stack in another ten minutes and walk out for good. And I’d just stand outside and breathe. Always stank like cigarettes and old grease, but it was so much better just being away from the heat and the noise and the cascading chaos of the kitchen. You know?” He twisted his head away from the sky toward Elijah. He had a flash of grief for Dante and wished it were him standing there, instead.

  Elijah laughed and shook his head. “No. Security guard, remember? Most of the time was like this. Used to go to the diner after shift just to hear some voices that weren’t my own for a little. But I could imagine where this could be a relief.”

  “This city you keep mentioning, is it big?”

  Elijah’s gaze skated away, into the darker bulk of the trees. “Depends on your frame of reference, I guess. Biggest population in the area, anyway. Maybe there are others, but finding them now—” he stopped himself. Apparently another subject they didn’t want Neil to know about.

  “Where are we?”

  “Great Meadow.”

  Neil spun around, trying to make out details in the dark. “The park? But that’s— I thought we were— I don’t know, states and states away or something.”

  “No, you’re only a few miles from the hospital where we found you. We don’t have the resources to go very far yet. Maybe— maybe we won’t ever have that kind of reach.”

  “I used to come here with Randi in the summer. My house is only forty minutes from here.”

  “With the hospital on the schedule, we didn’t expect to have Cure teams too spread out. We figured the camp would fill up pretty quickly with whoever was left in the immediate area. Hoped, anyway. But the camp’s only half full. Two years is a long time to survive in a confined place.”

  Neil wasn’t really listening. He took a step back toward the tent, overexcited. “I could be home in an hour. Won’t Joan be surprised? And Randi will—”

  “Neil—”

  Neil patted his pants, looking for keys that he’d lost years ago. “Right. No car. Still, someone’ll give me a ride. You have a car, my man?” he turned to Elijah, who shook his head slowly.

  “You can’t go home, brother. Not yet.”

  “What? You just said I wasn’t a prisoner.”

  “You aren’t. But think about it for a second. You’re maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. You told me you’re thirty-eight now. Sorry to be blunt, but you look more like late fifties at best. Your little girl— you don’t want to scare your little girl. So heal up a little, before you go racing off.”

  Neil shook his head. “But I’ve been gone two years. How I look— they’ll understand. I need to get back to them. What if they need help? You said things weren’t like I remember.”

  “They aren’t. But you don’t understand how different they truly are. You want a car, Neil? There are four or five dealerships within a mile or two. You can walk right in and pick out the fanciest one you like. No car loan anymore. No paperwork. No insurance. Hell, no license. Just grab the keys and go. Except you can’t because there’s no more gas, besides what little the City managed to make or find last summer. That forty-minute drive to your house— even if you could scrounge up the gas, it wouldn’t be forty minutes anymore. No speed limit, sure. No traffic. But there are no construction crews either. Downed trees and enormous potholes and washouts. No one left to fix them. It’s all gone. I’m not supposed to tell you that, not for a while, but that’s the truth. It’s all gone. They are all gone. The car salesmen and the bank managers and the gas station attendants— diggers and refiners, too. It took us six months to get to you in the hospital, not just because of the other Cured. Some of it was just making the road passable for the military truck. And when you get to your house… We get survivors from all over the area. There are pockets still, out here, but most are in bad shape.”

  “All the more reason for me to find them.”

  “Look, the disease, the one that made us do what we did— immunity is very rare. The people in charge say it looks like one in a hundred. They can’t tell us too much yet, about the people that are, there are just not enough of them. But they think it’s something in the genes. Which means even if your wife got lucky, your daughter…” Elijah shook his head.

  “But if Joan is immune, maybe she passed that on to my daughter.”

  Elijah squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “Maybe, brother. I hope so.”

  “And if she’s not, if they’re not, I’ll bring them back here. You can give them the medicine and—”

  “Sleep on it. The counselors want to stop you remembering while you heal. But you need to remember. What you did. What you saw. They aren’t going to release you for another couple of weeks anyway, so use that time to think. We’re expecting an updated population list at the end of the week by courier. Check the list. Hopefully, you’ll see some familiar names. And if not, if you remember and you still want to go after them, then spend the rest of the time planning. This little trip isn’t easy anymore. Even on foot. Can’t just stop at a diner when you get hungry. If you get hurt, it’s on you to fix it. You know what places like the hospital are now. It’s hard to sleep safely on your own. You’re protected here. You will be in the City, too. But alone out there— that’s a whole different thing.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “C’mon. Getting chilly out here. And the wind’s blowing right through those scarecrow bones of yours. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  5

  A thin, staring face hovered over Neil when he opened his eyes. The skin stretched too hard over the bones beneath, all nose and teeth and cheek with no fat beneath to soften them. A flash of teeth around his neck and the crushing pain as they closed. The heat of someone’s breath. He flinched away, expecting a lunge before realizing it was only a memory. He instinctively raised a hand to his throat. It wasn’t the only injury he had a fleeting impression of. Always biting. On his arms, his legs, his right buttock. The echo of pain and rage sizzled and then vanished.

  “It is you,” said the newly-shaven skull, writhing into an agonized grimace. “I’m sorry,” it cried.

  “What? Who are you? What’s happened?” Neil asked, still disoriented.

  “I did that. Bit you. Tried to eat you.” A scarred, crooked finger rose and pointed at him. Neil struggled to sit up, finally recognizing the woman as the one who had stared at him in the shower. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed again. She repeated it, wailing.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay—” Neil started, panicked and unsure
how to comfort her. He could see some staff members moving toward them, alerted by the woman’s cries.

  “No, no, I tried to kill you. I didn’t mean— I did, then. I don’t now. I was out of my—”

  “We all were,” interrupted the man from the cot beside them, “we were all out of our minds. It was this illness.”

  “But I was never that,” continued the woman, “Before. I was never like that. What if it comes back? What if we—”

  “You won’t, Danica. We’ve discussed this.” One of the counselors had reached them and she touched the weeping woman’s shoulder. “The Cure is permanent. Why don’t we get you to breakfast, hmm? You’ll all feel a little better after that and then—”

  Danica half-turned toward the counselor. “No, you don’t understand. This man, that mark on his neck, I did that. I can’t leave him like this.”

  “He’s recovering just as you are,” said the counselor. The man next to Neil stared at his neck. Neil fought the urge to cover up the bandage. It’d only attract more attention.

  “But I need to fix it, make amends—”

  “I think we should discuss this when everyone’s calmed down,” said the counselor, pulling on Danica’s arm, trying to lead her toward the loud clatter of dishes that came from the far corner of the tent. But she resisted.

  “No, now that I’ve remembered I can’t—”

  Neil leaned forward, caught the woman’s bony fingers in his hand. “I don’t remember yet. Danica, is it? I don’t remember. You understand? Whatever you think you’ve done, I don’t imagine it’s worse than what everyone else here has done. I don’t remember much of anything after I got sick, not even this.” Then he did cover his throat with his hand, to force her to focus on it, trying to narrow down the increasing agitation he could see building in her.

  “But I do. Even if you never remember, I still did something awful. Unforgivable. I can’t—”

  “Don’t I get a say?” he asked abruptly. “You think you hurt me, so don’t I get to decide whether I forgive you or not?”

  She hesitated at that. The counselor behind her nodded vigorously at Neil, to encourage the tack he’d landed on. “Maybe,” admitted Danica, “If you remembered. If you really knew what I did and—”

  “Then let’s go have some breakfast and you can remind me.”

  “Oh. I don’t know if I want to remind you of that. Of pain. And fear. It’s so selfish.”

  Neil stood up from the cot. “I don’t remember much yet, just a few flashes. But I know I wasn’t feeling much fear. Not by the time this happened. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

  “I’m sure. You were in the pool. You didn’t even know I was there.” She stopped herself. Shook her too-angular head. “I shouldn’t do this. Say this.”

  “I’m asking you to. If you can help me remember the days before we woke up, maybe I’ll remember more. I need to know what’s happened. Maybe my family found me and I don’t know. Maybe there are people I need to atone to. But until I remember—”

  The man on the cot beside him shook his head. “You don’t want to remember, trust me. You’re better off this way. Lucky. Stay forgetful as long as you can.”

  “It won’t last,” said the counselor. “Another day, two, and you’ll start remembering on your own. Happens every time. Better to have it over while there are people who can—”

  “Easy for you, you don’t have this— agony in your head,” said the man. “You didn’t get sick, did you? Don’t see any scars anyway. You see us crack and then it’s over for you. You can send us on our way. But once he remembers, he’s going to remember for his whole life. Gonna cripple him. Like the rest of us.”

  Danica wrung her hands, her gaze skittering rapidly between Neil and the other two.

  “It’s a difficult recovery,” admitted the counselor, “but very few of you have lasting damage. I have many Cured acquaintances—”

  “Oh yeah?” shouted the man next to Neil. “Why don’t you go get one of them then? They’d be a lot more use right now. You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of you. You should have shot us instead of waking us up. Would have been kinder for everyone.”

  “Calm down mister— I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “What’s it matter?” snapped the man. “I’m never going to be the person I was anyway. My own mother wouldn’t recognize me or what I’ve done. Why should I get to keep the name she gave me?”

  “I’ll have to sedate you if—”

  The man stood up and the cot tumbled over behind him. “Oh no, you won’t. Not letting you pump me full of more shit. Who knows how I’ll wake up next.”

  Neil held up his hands, alarmed at how quickly the situation was shifting. “Everyone just take a breath,” he said. “You don’t need to sedate anyone. He’s upset. We’re all upset. I thought the only rule here was we don’t hurt each other.”

  “Or yourselves,” corrected the counselor.

  “He’s not threatening that. Are you?” asked Neil.

  The man shook his head. “I wouldn’t add to my crimes by doing that. Or strip someone I’ve wronged the satisfaction of doing it themselves.”

  “Look, maybe you should get one of the Cured you know,” Neil urged the counselor.

  “We don’t have any Cured trained to counsel—”

  “No offense,” said Neil, “but Elijah’s done more to help just by talking to me over the past day than the counseling has. He doesn’t need a degree, living through it’s experience enough.”

  “Elijah’s off shift—”

  “Someone else then. He can’t be the only person Cured in the camp, can he?”

  The counselor shook her head but hesitated.

  “Why don’t you find someone,” offered Neil, “and we’ll agree to be quiet, right?” Danica nodded, and then the other man. “And we’ll go have breakfast. And we’ll talk with whoever you send us. No need for sedatives or yelling or anything more— extreme.”

  Neil let out a shaky breath in relief as the counselor nodded and walked away. “Come on,” he said to the others, “Let’s not break our promise. I’m not entirely sure what happens if we do.”

  He led them toward the long tables where others already sat eating. He said nothing to them but was unsurprised that both Danica and the man who’d been in the cot next to him sat down at the same table. Danica didn’t eat, just stared at Neil’s throat. The continued silence made him nervous. But he knew nothing about these people. What did they expect him to say? He played with the thin beige paste in his bowl.

  “Never liked oatmeal,” he muttered. “This is even worse.”

  “I haven’t had an appetite at all,” admitted the man. “But they keep telling me it’ll come back.”

  “Hope so, Doe, otherwise I’ll have to start looking for a different occupation. A cook who doesn’t want to eat is not a good cook.”

  “Doe?” he asked.

  “Yeah. You might be okay without a name, but I need to call you something. Didn’t want to presume you were a ‘John’ so, Doe.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry about that. The counselor— she just doesn’t know how much she doesn’t know. I didn’t want—” He shook his head and thrust a hand toward Neil. “Thomas. Don’t really feel like talking about much else about me, but guess my name’s okay.”

  “Neil,” he shook Thomas’s hand. “And I won’t ask.”

  “You truly don’t remember?”

  Neil shook his head. “I remember being in the hospital. Before. I didn’t feel sick, I was there for an injury. I remember we were trapped inside and I tried to escape. After that— I have flashes. I remember being angry. So angry. But not why. And I know I was— hurt.”

  Danica covered her face.

  “Not— I don’t remember you, not that one. Just pain at some points. And the taste of blood. I— bit a woman. I remember that. Her ear. That’s— all.”

  “That’s not all, brother. You wouldn’t have survived this long if it were. I�
�m sorry.” Elijah slid into the space beside him. He was still tucking his uniform into place, obviously woken to come and speak with them. Neil felt a flash of guilt for disturbing him.

  “Don’t remind him,” whimpered Danica. “Better this way.”

  “It isn’t.” Elijah reached over and patted her hand. “I know it seems like it, but it’s not. Most of us start remembering minutes after waking up. But some take a little longer. It’s always worse. Wondering what you did, why you’re here, what’s happened to the world.”

  “I can’t imagine something worse than the reality,” said Thomas. “Everything gone and all our fault.”

  Elijah nodded. “It’s a blow to understand things have changed. That when you flip a switch the lights aren’t going to come on. That when you’re out of something you can’t just run to the store and pick up more. That it might be the last time you have that thing. Ever. That there are no firemen to call if your campfire gets out of control or ambulance if you hurt yourself. That if you fuck up in the City, there aren’t that many people left that you can just— find new friends. It’s hard, truly understanding that. But it’s something we all have to learn. Immunes too. It seems awful right now. Seems overwhelming and impossible. But once you’ve figured out how to get by, and you will, it’s habit, like your job before, or your commute. Just stuff you do to exist. But the memories, the stuff we each did on our own, that’s what’s going to kill your peace if you let it. The world was already falling apart. And if anyone dealt the deathblow, it was the disease. Not us. We’re just— we’re just the vector.” Elijah scrubbed at a spot on the plastic table with a fingernail. “What we did to our wives though— our kids and our friends and innocent people that just were there, that’s another story. That’s where the imagination can sometimes be worse than what actually happened. Or, if not worse, different. Sometimes, people wake up and find that someone’s been taking care of them. They still did awful things. Attacked the people who were helping them or are embarrassed by the things they tried to do, the conditions they had to be kept in. But at least they don’t have several deaths on their conscience. Some people— most of the people here right now, were confined in some way. The damage is limited. Neil and Danica were trapped in a wing of the nearby hospital. There couldn’t have been too many patients left at that point. If I remember the news right, they’d already stopped accepting patients for about a week before things got really bad because of the quarantine. The number of people you could each have hurt would be— smaller than someone like me who was loose until I was Cured.”