Nella shook her head. “I’m not so certain we should be stopping people like you. Juliana may have had her happy ending, but the people we cured… six years ago, the suicide rate for the Cured was roughly thirty percent. It’s gone up the longer people have been Infected. Maybe these folks will be different. Maybe because you and your friend cared for them, they have less to regret. I hope so.” She handed Ruth a heavy pack.
“What’s this?”
“Another three cases of the Cure, all that was left on the ship. A map to the City, in case you change your mind or you need more darts. A few medical supplies that we could spare.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
Nella shrugged. “They are only useful when someone has the skills to do it properly. I don’t like hoarding when so many need help so badly.”
Ruth turned to Frank. “The Infected— the people we cured, they’ll remember right? Who they are, what’s happened?”
“All but the last couple of days, those will be fuzzy because of the medication. They will still be confused. It would be better if they woke up to a friendly face.”
Ruth shook her head. “Not mine. I can only represent death to them. But Bernard is here. And Father Preston will wake up with them. He has to have some shred of fellow feeling for them. He’s been through the same process. It’s probably best he lead them.”
Bernard shook his head. Frank frowned. “They need you,” said Nella gently, “even if it’s only to tell them the straight story. They should be waking up soon. Talk to them, just once. Let them choose who to believe.”
“Father Preston’s people are in there. They’ll still want to kill me.”
“Juliana would want you to try,” Frank said, and Nella squeezed his hand. Ruth nodded.
“I’ll try.” She looked over the long row of graves, her gaze lingering on Nick’s and then Juliana’s. Bernard hugged her. The dog thumped its tail.
“I’ll be back before winter,” Ruth said. “Don’t overuse your hand, Bernard. I’ll send help. Food, if I can.” He just nodded into her shoulder. She turned away from them and walked down the hill and out of the park. Though she was dreading it, it didn’t take long to reach the hospital. They had been back to move the sleeping bodies into the shade and cool them with water from the kitchen handpump. They’d removed the corpses and buried them with Juliana, so seeing it wasn’t as much of a shock as it might have been. Still, Ruth felt a pang as she walked up to the broken walls. It should be Juliana here, not her. She looked up to the third floor hallway windows, half expecting to see Juliana’s shadow on the staircase. But of course, nothing inside moved.
A long line of people lay against the gray brick walls out of the sun. Ruth stopped at the post they had hung Nick from. She sat down in front of it, her back against the warm metal, and waited. She watched the people shift and stir one by one or a few at a time and sit up, still woozy from the sedative. Some of them saw her and glared. She hoped they belonged to Father Preston, but secretly she was frightened that they’d all hate her. That she was sitting where she’d die.
After a long while a woman got up. Her cuffs were rolled up and she held her pants up with one hand. She must be an Infected, Ruth thought, her clothes don’t fit. The woman shuffled slowly over to Ruth and stood for a long moment looking down at her. Then her face burst into a smile and she squatted down. “I remember you,” she said, “You fixed my broken arm when I first came here. Thank you.” She held out her free hand and shook Ruth’s.
“You’re welcome,” said Ruth, not knowing what to say. The woman sat down in front of Ruth and waited. A man walked up and shook Ruth’s hand as well. He sat next to the woman. A few more came. Then a dozen. Soon Ruth was surrounded by people. A few waited on the wall, their faces scowling or turned away from her. She saw a flutter in the downstairs windows of the hospital, but nobody came out. It was a relief. She knew Father Preston and Gray were inside. She didn’t want to fight. That’s not what she was here for. Ruth stood up and cleared her throat.
“Frank says you remember. That everything up to three days ago will gradually come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what we did. And for what we didn’t do. I’m sorry you were in pain for so long. I’m sorry for the things that you did or were done to you before you came here. I’m sorry that you are waking up in a broken world. If I could fix it—” she trailed off. She looked at the sea of shaved heads that turned up to face her, like disciples. “We didn’t know about the cure. We had nothing left to feed you with. Juliana did her best to help you. It should be her here, not me. She wanted to be here when you woke up. She thought this was your happy ending. But she is gone. And this is only the beginning for you. I didn’t believe you’d ever wake up. Some of you hate me for what I’ve done. For what I meant to do to you. I know some of you even intend to kill me. But we tried to do the right thing— no, we tried always to do the kindest thing for you. And if we’d given you to Father Preston— you would have been slaves. I thought that you would suffer more. So what happens next?” she fell silent, but no one answered her. She shifted uncomfortably. Someone coughed. Ruth sighed.
“I’m sure you are thirsty and hungry after three days of sleep,” she began again, “There is some food left in the pantry of the hospital, and a hand pump with clean water. You’ll need to share. This world isn’t so great about sharing. But you had the best model there was. If you wish to honor the woman who cared for you all these years, the best you can do is to share with each other. Some of you have families still in the city. They don’t know yet that you are cured. They did what they thought was kindest too. Please forgive them if you can.”
“And the rest of us?” someone called.
Ruth shrugged. “It’s a big world. The people who brought the Cure came from another city, somewhere south, past the capitol. You could head there. Or you could help Bernard build the garden into a farm and stay here.”
“What about you?” asked the woman in front, “what are you going to do now?”
“There’s a whole country waiting for the Cure. People just like you maybe, who’ve been waiting for years and years. Someone has to find them. If you want to help, I’ll be heading west.” She stopped and pulled a dart from her pack and held it up. “If you’re coming to kill me, I’m still heading west. But make sure to take the doses if you do. There are several thousand doses. There’s more in that southern city. Whatever you think of me, of what I’ve done, I would hate to think of them all going to waste when I’m gone.” The people around her looked troubled. She didn’t know what else to say. She took a long look at the dark hospital. “Goodbye,” she said, and turned to walk back out of the field.
The sun was starting its slide down as she passed onto the baking pavement. She didn’t look back. The buildings fell away behind her, the smoking steam of the subway stations screened them. She climbed onto the exit ramp of the freeway, her little shadow a cool flutter passing over the four wide lanes as they tumbled away west. Behind her a dozen other shadows trudged along the warm road, never letting her quite out of sight.
Chapter 36
His stomach was an itchy flame. His arms pulsed with pain and the little light that leaked through his closed eyelids pierced his head like needles. He didn’t want to open his eyes and risk more pain, but the itch on his belly convinced him that he’d better, before something worse happened. A few badly mangled faces hovered over him, meeting his gaze.
“He’s alive,” said one looking up at someone he couldn’t see.
“That’s a relief anyway,” said a voice.
“Do you know who you are?” asked the other face.
“Brother Mi— Father Michael Preston.”
“I remember you here. You used to yell things through the door. Were you sick too? The only wounds you have are from— well, we’re awfully sorry about that.”
“Sick? You mean Afflicted? Once, a long time ago. I was blessed to recover though. Who are you?”
“Me? Well my na
me is Diane if that’s what you mean. I lived here. My family brought me years ago.”
Father Preston sat up slowly.
“Careful,” said Diane, “The stitches might come out.”
“Stitches?” He looked down at the scratchy skin on his stomach. A line of tiny black crosses crossed it in a jagged line. “Ruth,” he spat. “Where is she?”
Diane shrugged. “There were lots of people here. All over the building. They’ve all been asleep, but they woke up yesterday. Like Sleeping Beauty’s castle.” Diane smiled. “Most of them are gone now. Except us. We couldn’t leave you like this. Not knowing what we’d done.”
“What happened?” asked Father Preston, confused.
“It’s a little fuzzy. I remember the door to my cell being open and I was hungry. So hungry. I heard noise as some men came in to the hospital and I— I raced to them thinking they must have food. I wasn’t the only one. We chased them upstairs. We were so hungry. You were sick once, you understand.”
Father Preston nodded, not really wanting to hear the rest.
“There wasn’t enough to go around. So we started fighting with each other. Someone was in the upstairs bedroom near us, we could hear them whispering. We finally got through the door and I leapt onto a box, but then someone— you, yelled from the staircase. We found you. We bit you. I’m sorry. We don’t remember anything after that.”
Father Preston looked around at the half dozen creatures who were trying to remember how to be human. “None of you remember after that?”
They shook their heads.
“It was like a spell, or, or a miracle,” exclaimed Diane, “it was as if as soon as we bit into your flesh we began waking up, began remembering who we were. But that’s hardly possible is it?”
Father Preston’s pulse began to speed up.
A man nearby said slowly, “Well, he did say he was sick and recovered. What if whatever cured him is still inside him? What if he cured us, because we ate his blood?”
Ruth’s voice echoed in Father Preston’s head. That’s not how it works, she’d said. You aren’t special, is what she’d meant. But God had proved otherwise, this was his miracle.
He noticed a man sitting on a bench in a corner. The man leaned forward into the sunlight and picked up a slim tube from the floor. He rolled it between his fingers and looked up at Father Preston, waiting to see what he would say. It was Gray.
Gray stood up and pocketed the tube before anyone but Father Preston noticed it. “We owe this man our lives, our sanity,” he said in a slow, thunderous voice, “He was saved from Affliction by God, and now he heals others through his own flesh.”
The others helped Father Preston gently up. He felt light, strong, unwavering. Holy. He smiled at Gray. Gray made a low bow and smiled his greasy grin back. But Father Preston had no room for doubt in his miracle and the sly wink of the other man went unnoticed.
“What should we do, Father Preston?” asked Diane, trembling slightly with awe.
“There are other Afflicted out there,” said Father Preston, “We can leave them to suffer no longer.”
“But where do we start?” asked another.
“South,” said Gray with a slight smile.
“Yes,” said Father Preston, “We must first find the Congregation.”
It was a few weeks before Father Preston heard rumors of another city, one where a medical cure had been found. But now the city was in crisis, gripped by a resurgence of the plague. Only a miracle could cure it now. Only I can cure it, he thought. He wandered toward it with his band of miracle Cured and his faithful flock. They came to a large settlement on a warm morning in mid July. The people were building walls and planting crops far too late. A lanky man with an unlit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth stopped them on the road.
“Whoa,” he said, spitting tiny bits of stale tobacco onto the road. “We already have too many. Look, we don’t like turning anyone away, but unless you brought your own tools and seeds—”
“We’re here to help,” said Father Preston.
The man snorted. “That’s what you all say. We needed help a year ago. We needed the cure, but nobody ventured out of the City to help us then.”
“These people were just cured themselves, a few weeks ago.”
The man squinted at Father Preston in the shadowy burlap cowl he wore to cover his scars. “We were the last ones, the governor said.”
“We’ve come a long way,” said Father Preston, “A long way to help.”
The man tapped his cigarette against his palm as if he could tamp the loose remains of tobacco tighter. “You better go see Henry then,” he said at last. “But just one of you. The rest can wait here until there’s a decision.”
“I’ll take care of them Father,” said Gray, “and maybe make some trades with—”
“Rickey,” the man offered. “What have you got?”
Gray grinned. Rickey pointed Father Preston up the road to a large barn. He heard two men talking as he approached the door.
“Did you hear about the Plague?”
“Yes, Melissa told me this morning.” The man’s voice sounded familiar to Father Preston. Sort of exotic. As if it had been many places. Sad, as if it had seen too many things.
“Are you in favor of closing our gates too?” asked the first man. Father Preston opened the door and slid inside, unnoticed.
“What choice do we have? If we don’t protect the people that are already here, there will be no safe place for anyone.” The speaker was grayer than Father Preston remembered. A little stooped.
“Marnie is out there somewhere.”
The older man put a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “And you did what you said that you would for her. You went back as you promised her mother you’d do. You offered her shelter and help as you promised you would do. And you didn’t follow her as you promised not to do. You’ve made other promises, Henry. To the people here. To your friends. These people trust you to do what’s right for them.”
“Isn’t there some other way?”
“I believe there is,” said Father Preston. Both men turned to look at him. Father Preston recognized the other priest. He waited at the end of the barn to be recognized. The morning light filled with dust motes and floated around him like a halo.
“I’m sorry,” said Henry, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Henry. Who are you?”
“The savior,” Father Preston replied. The priest stepped forward, side by side with Henry.
“What is it you want?” asked Henry.
“To give you another way.”
“And what way is that?” asked the priest, his hand closing over the shovel that leaned against a nearby barn beam.
“Why, Brother Vincent, Transubstantiation of course.” Father Preston pushed the cowl from his scarred face and Brother Vincent gasped and dropped the shovel.
Just a Note
Dear Reader,
Whether you picked up Krìsis without ever hearing about After the Cure or this is the third time you are experiencing the world, thank you for reading! I hope that it has entertained you, made you think, or just moved you in some way. I hope that you loved it, but maybe you’d rather throw the kindle at me instead. But I’d recommend against it, those things are pricey! Instead, drop me a line and tell me how you feel, I’d love to hear from you, whether you are railing against me or just want to know what the weather in Maine is at the moment. You can always find me at [email protected] while I can’t promise to answer any question you ask (wouldn’t want to spoil the ending after all!) I will do my best to answer what I can or just say hello and make a new friend in zombie- er, Infected and post apocalyptic appreciation. Or you can pop in to the After the Cure facebook page to see how the series is progressing (or to find out about other awesome science fiction and horror books that I’ve run across and want to share): https://www.facebook.com/Afterthecurenovel
Of course, I always appreciate sharing how you feel with the rest of the r
eading world too, and if you felt sad, angry, happy, satisfied, frustrated or excited for more, I hope you’ll leave a review for this, and any book you read. Finding out someone loved or loathed a book is usually how I find my next read!
Thank you for traveling through this dark novel with me, and I hope you are looking forward to reading the next few books in the series as much as I am truly looking forward to writing them!
2/4/2015
Deirdre Gould
Other Titles
In the After the Cure Series:
After the Cure (Book 1)
http://www.amazon.com/After-Cure-Deirdre-Gould-ebook/dp/B00ERVTFCM
The Cured (Book 2)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Cured-After-Cure-Book-ebook/dp/B00J2EJAOM
Coming Spring 2015: “Igor” in The Z Chronicles
https://www.facebook.com/groups/futurechronicles/
Sans Zombie:
The Robot Chronicles
http://www.amazon.com/Robot-Chronicles-Future-Book-ebook/dp/B00M3GIBUK
The Jade Seed
http://www.amazon.com/Jade-Seed-Deirdre-Gould-ebook/dp/B00BNIIEBK
The Moon Polisher’s Apprentice
http://www.amazon.com/Moon-Polishers-Apprentice-Part-Queen-ebook/dp/B00J8U6WB4
Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) Page 26