“Yeah,” Neil said, his voice creaking with grief, “I know where she would have gone.”
“It wasn’t a completely hopeless plan,” said Shay, trying to comfort him. “It sounded decent if they could get there. She said it had a woodstove and its own well, away from almost everything else. There’d be less Infected there, that’s what we thought. The thing is, there must be fewer Immunes up there to help, too. The group she was going with was small to begin with and they all had different destinations. They would have split up once they got clear of the suburbs. Without someone keeping watch at night or to be there in case of some kind of accident— hell, just someone to help chop wood or scavenge for food— it’d be tough going even without the Infected to worry about.”
“Did they get there? To the cabin?” asked Neil.
Shay’s eyes grew red. “How would I know?” she asked at last. “No phones. We had a few radios where we were but the power had gone out long before. We gave them every chance we could. They left at the end of the winter, as soon as there was a mild day. It was late February. I thought a lot of the Infected might die of exposure over that winter. That if we could just make it to spring— Some of them probably did freeze to death out there. A lot of them did. But there were plenty of places like the hospital where people were somewhat protected. Anyway, they kept coming long after I expected the attacks to slow down.
“That day was breezy and sunny. Without the light of our fires to draw them. When the wind blew the smell of food away over the bay, we were relatively safe. So that’s the day they went. We’d made a run on the bus depot a few weeks before that, so we could get them something that would at least be some kind of shelter and transportation. Thing was, the roads were already blocked with crashed cars here and there. And to get any gas, you had to find a way to suck it out of the tanks at the stations, none of the pumps worked. Even to get a few gallons would take a half-hour, the whole time you’re vulnerable. It used to take us eight or nine people just to be safe on gas runs. And even then, more often than not we had injuries. Sometimes worse. We thought if Joan’s group could get to the outskirts of the City, the roads would be clearer farther out and the tank of gas the bus had when we took it would probably get them pretty far. If not, it could at least be a campsite. Some kind of armor if they ran into a swarm. Not enough to save them on its own, but it’d buy them some time, anyway.
“Our food and water stores were really low. We fought about that for a while. Since they were going out beyond our few blocks of safety, they’d have some opportunities to scavenge more. Some people thought that meant they should take less. The same with the people who thought they’d die a mile past our blockade, that it was a waste for them to take much at all. Others thought they deserved half. They’d helped us secure what little we had and there were more children with them. In the end, we packed the bus with a week’s worth of food and water for their number. Wasn’t much less than half of what we had anyway. Should have saved ourselves the heartache that fighting amongst ourselves caused. They headed out a little before sunset. My Ben had found some fireworks and we had a plan. When it got dark, we’d set our fireworks off from the top of one of the buildings and purposely draw the Infected, give the bus a chance at escaping them for the night. Then, just before dawn, they’d set off their firework from somewhere safe and draw whatever was left away from the City, if it could still be seen.
“It was a bad night. There must still have been Infected in some of the buildings just outside our blockade because they came out in force. We lost five just after firing off that rocket and seven more before morning. They were still coming when we saw the light from their firework. If there had still been power to the streetlights and the business signs, we wouldn’t have been able to see it. As it was, it was too far to really draw any of the Infected. Just a flash of white and pink on the horizon. That’s the last I saw of them, Neil. I’m sorry, that’s all we know about them. We’ve tried to find the bus this year, now that the City’s stabilized and pushing outward. And we’ve been trying every channel on the radios now that the power’s back up— not just for them, for anyone who can get to us. We’ve found a lot of people, but none of the people who left on the bus. I hope they got where they were going. That they’re just living peacefully somewhere in the woods. I wish I had answers for you. Especially you, but I don’t.”
“I need to find them,” said Neil.
“That cabin she was talking about, it was over a hundred miles,” said Shay.
“You don’t need to give me the whole ‘things have changed’ speech. I’ve already heard it, repeatedly. I know you all doubt I can get there, but I have to try.”
Shay glanced at Elijah and then shook her head. “No, it’s not that I doubt you can get there. I know better than to argue with someone who made a suicide run to save me and then survived it. The past few winters have been severe. I don’t think there are many loose Infected left. Anyone still alive’s going to be trapped in a building somewhere with food and water. Except for feeding yourself and not getting into some kind of accident with fire or falling into a washout or something, the biggest difficulty is just going to be getting to the cabin before winter. But Joan and Randi… I don’t know if they could have made it. There were a lot more Infected back then. Or maybe they turned aside for something better on the way. There are other survivors out there, other small settlements. And the winters weren’t just hard for the Infected, they were hard on us all. Joan’s smart and practical. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to stick with another small group and ended up somewhere else other than her dad’s cabin. I know you’re going to try anyway, I know. But you need to be ready first. Not just physically. You need to get your body back, sure. Heal and get strong. But— there are lots of things that can be waiting at that cabin, Neil. Maybe they didn’t get there. Maybe they didn’t both get there. Or maybe they did, but Joan’s found another— friend. Or several. The City is happy to cure you. We need the Cured. But not everyone feels the same. Some people are always going to see the Cured as murderers. Some are going to understand that it wasn’t— you, but they’re not going to be able to forgive you anyway. We’ve heard things. Hunts for the Infected. People capturing Infected and turning them into plow pullers or guard dogs. Yanking out their teeth and using them for other things. News of the Cure hasn’t spread very far yet. I’m not sure how people will react when they find out about it. Or about people like you. You’re safe in the City. Out there— I can’t say. And then there’s your family if they’re up there in that cabin. There’s no way they know this is curable. They believe you’re dead, they have for a long time. I believed you were dead, even when I made the request, I didn’t think you survived the day we escaped. When they see you— you need to be ready for what they’ll think. What they’ll ask about where you’ve been, about how you’ve survived. You don’t— you don’t have to tell them the truth, you know. You could tell them you escaped the hospital and the plague never got bad enough to make you violent. No one— I don’t think anyone’s ever going to wander up there by accident, not in our lifetimes. Your secret would be safe. You could tell them whatever you like. But you’ll know. You need to be ready.”
“I need to see for myself. If I get there and Joan turns me away or Randi— Randi hates me,” his voice broke though he struggled to keep it steady, “so be it. At least I can see they are safe and whole. At least I can keep my promise to her. And if they aren’t there, then I need to know that, too.”
“Why? What good will it do?”
“I need to help them if they are in trouble—”
“But you can’t, Neil,” broke in Elijah. “Not in this shape. You aren’t going to be able to help anyone.”
Shay nodded.
“So you just want me to sit here for months and behave myself knowing that they’re out there somewhere?” asked Neil.
“Not really. What I’d really like you to do is sit here another two weeks until the doctor says y
ou’ve recovered some weight and then come back to the City with Mateo and me,” said Shay. “Start new, among friends. Whatever has happened to Joan and Randi— it might be better for all of you to move on.”
“But—”
“I know. I know in the world you remember there’s nothing worse than losing a loved one. But in this one— they think you died a hero. It’s the story I told them because it’s what I thought, too. And you are a hero. But that’s not all you are, Neil. Not anymore. They’ve grieved and moved on. If you just turned up one day— isn’t it better to leave them in peace?”
“If I knew for sure that they were living peacefully then I might agree. But what if they’re struggling? Hurt? Starving?”
Shay sighed. “It’s been two years. They’ve either worked out a way to survive or— it’s long over. But you have a chance to be— safe. To be human again.”
“I was always human.”
“I know that. But now your brain knows it, too. Come to the City, be among friends. Maybe even grow happy again, in time. There’s a farm now, not really big yet, but we’re getting there. And that restaurant you said you worked at— you and your friend, I found it a year ago. My kids started cleaning it up. It was in bad shape. Even hung the sign back up. Almost ready to reopen. It’ll be the first restaurant in the safe zone. Just needs a chef.”
“I can’t. It’s not that I don’t understand how much it’s cost you for me to be sitting here. It’s not that I can’t appreciate what your people have done for me, what you’re offering to do— but she’s my baby, Shay. I have to know. And I have to help her if I can. I promised I’d come and get her from that terrible place. I need her to know that I didn’t just— give up on her at the library. That I kept looking—”
“I understand, you don’t have to justify your decision,” said Shay, interrupting him. “But I wanted to try. I was so glad when Mateo read me the list of names from the hospital, that yours was in there. I wanted a chance to be your friend.”
“You are my friend. And when I find Randi and Joan, I’ll bring them back. They don’t know it’s safe here. They don’t know there are more people now. That you have a way to fix this disease—”
“Don’t know that it’s fixed,” muttered Elijah, still shelling peas beside them. “But it’s a start, anyway.”
Shay shook her head. “You won’t come back. But I can’t blame you either. Can you at least promise me to stay until the doctors say you’re strong enough to travel? For your family’s sake, too. I have to go out on another run. Got a hardware store scheduled for tomorrow and a few others after that. If you stay, I can help you get supplies you’ll need. It’ll make it easier to get at least partway there. And— have a chance to say goodbye.”
“How long will that be? Until they say I can travel? I can’t put on much fat with oatmeal.”
“There’ll be more solid food mixed in next week,” said Elijah. “It keeps you from getting sick. And the Cure camp’s slated to move on in another five weeks. You’ll be cleared by then at the latest, for better or worse.”
“And I should be back in three,” said Shay. “You can wait that long, can’t you? Get your legs under you, at least. Give you some kind of shot at not collapsing halfway there?”
Neil hesitated. Every minute was already close to panic. Three weeks was… “Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“You barely know where you are,” said Elijah. “You have no supplies. You wouldn’t get far. Yet. I don’t want to find you fallen off a crumbling overpass or passed out from heat exhaustion, Neil. You seem like a decent guy. You agree to make my life easier and not run for a few weeks and I’ll help you prepare for when you do go.”
Neil could see the sense in what they were asking, even while his heart rebelled against the thought of waiting. If he left now, he doubted he’d be able to walk more than a mile or two. And if things were as bad as they told him, he’d be walking much, much farther. Shay wouldn’t lie to him. Not about that. There was no reason to, was there? She didn’t tell me I was sick, he remembered. But she hadn’t done it out of ill-will or to get something from him. And she’d understood the urgency of reaching their kids just as much as he had. She couldn’t have forgotten the feeling. It sounded as if she’d known it far better and longer than he had. Whatever she’d gone through while he was sick, it’d been rough. She knew what was out there. “Okay. I’ll wait until I’m stronger. Until you get back, Shay, at least.”
She broke into a relieved grin. “Good. That’s good. I’ll call in a few favors while I’m out. Check all the updated lists. Just to make sure they haven’t come back while we’ve been out of the City.” She hugged him. “I have to go, I’m hours late for the priority meeting. I’ll see you soon, a few weeks. Heal, get stronger. Try and sleep.”
“This trip you’re going on, is it dangerous?”
Shay shrugged. “Not as dangerous as being trapped in a hospital with dozens of Infected, I guess. Not anymore. Besides, we’re loaded up with Cure darts now. The only dangers are other Immunes who decide they don’t want us there. Usually, we outnumber them. Or out-talk them. Don’t worry for me, Neil. I’ve been doing this a while now.”
“I’m— so sorry you had to do this for so long. Especially alone.”
She laughed. “Not alone. Don’t worry. I have lots of friends. And I actually kind of enjoy it. I mean— there are parts I don’t enjoy, but it’s a task that’s got to be done and it’s more exciting than plowing or digging latrines or trying to figure out how to repair the electrical plant in the City. I’m— good at this. I— can’t say you have nothing to apologize for. The fact that you’re still alive tells me that you likely do, if there is anyone left to hear an apology. But as for me, you never have to apologize to me. Not for what we’ve gone through. We’re alive because of what we did in that hospital. If it means several more years on scav missions, I’ll take it. Happily.” She leaned in and hugged him again. “You gave me back my kids, Neil. I can’t go with you to give you back yours, there are too many people who need me here these days, but I’ll do everything in my power to help you find Randi and Joan. And— and if they aren’t where you expect, my family is always yours. You’ll have a safe place to come back to, whatever you find out there.”
10
It had begun to come back to him in flashes. Small bursts of sound, an instant of a picture, the fragment of a taste on the tip of his tongue. After the incident with Danica, he’d pushed them out quickly, scared to chase after the impressions. But they were beginning to coalesce, stringing themselves gradually together, a gory necklace of teeth and blood and hair that seemed to circle his throat as he slept. The first woman, the one who’d been with him when they ran for the pool’s exit, the memory of her screaming as he bit down on her ear had quickly evaporated and been replaced by the next, an enraged Infected man who’d been in a frenzied battle with another by the locker room door. Neil had leaped upon his back and ripped a chunk from the man’s shoulder. He could remember the sting of breathing liquid blood through his nose. It rapidly disappeared as another death took its place. Like slides in a projector, just there long enough to complete the full image and then gone. Something was missing, though. Some sense of weight. When he woke, it still felt like a dream, like something he’d watched rather than something he’d done. The sensations, the memory of taste and of smell and of texture made him nauseous, but they didn’t feel bad enough. Except for once, he hadn’t felt a strong urge to cry. Not daily or hourly the way the people around him seemed to. Maybe it meant something was wrong in him. Broken. Maybe he wasn’t capable of empathy or— can’t be true, he told himself. I always felt for people before. I can think of other people, other suffering and I still feel deeply for them. Can still feel a detached sort of sympathy for the people I killed but not enough. The suspicion that he was lacking something, that there was something wrong with him had grown over several days. Danica had made it seem even worse, still fretting and apologizing as the bandage o
n his throat finally came off, the stitches removed and a crescent of raised, pink skin like a neon sign on his neck. He’d asked her again to stop if she could, but it seemed she could not, no matter how gently or roughly he insisted. The gulf between the depth of her guilt and his disturbed him. He couldn’t tell whether he was the aberration or she was. Simon had chalked it up to shock when Neil had asked. Neil wasn’t sure Simon knew what he was talking about.
He got up from the cot as soon as the roiling nausea subsided. He headed for the tent flap and found Elijah playing solitaire with a battered deck of cards at a small table just outside the tent.
“I thought you were sleeping better lately,” he said without looking up.
“I’ve been sleeping too well. You’ve got others keeping you busy, anyway.”
“Plenty. But the past few nights it’s been fewer. And there are counselors who handle most of them. I’m just—” he shrugged. “Security, I guess. Same as I always was. If you’re going for a walk, do me a favor and stay on this side of the tent. I won’t watch you, I trust your word. I just don’t want you falling in the lake in the dark.”
Neil sat down instead. “Can I ask you something?”
“Must be something pretty nasty if you need to ask permission first,” said Elijah evenly and gathered up the cards.
Before The Cure (Book 2): The Infected Page 10