Frank watched Vincent for his reaction. The priest covered his face with one hand, but didn’t interrupt. The woman that Nella had helped began laughing. It started low and throaty and grew as she rocked back and forth on the tar. Everyone scattered, thinking she’d turned. Her laugh dwindled and she said, “You don’ buy that horseshit do you? We don’t. We know. No cure, none. We been cast out. We’re goin’ to walk until we die. Right, Father? They kep’ telling us the priest was going to cure us. That he had a miracle. How many died in the past few weeks? Time’s running out. The Colony don’t want us. Can’t blame ‘em, we did the same, and worse. Sending us home, to the madhouse, so we all go together. So we can’t infect anybody else. This is what they want. We’ll eat each other, until we’re all gone. You go ‘head and lock me away, none of you looks particular tasty anyhow. Let me die sane. Let me die as myself. I’ll welcome the priest’s knife when it comes. You can scrabble for the scraps of minutes that are left, all of you. Waste the seconds fighting. It’s endless war when you turn anyway, might as well practice.”
The woman fell silent and nobody else offered an argument. Lisa passed out a small packet of food to each and they ate near the fire, nobody speaking. There was no more mention of the furniture store or of guards and one by one, the people crept into their sleeping bags, most turning away from all the others.
Nella and Frank sank down next to the fire near Vincent. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said softly, “Not when it comes down to it.”
Nella nodded. “This isn’t like before. There’s no urgency to it. It isn’t self-defense.”
“It will be,” rumbled Frank, “if we wait a few more days.”
Vincent sighed and squinted out into the dark lot. Frank squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t you remember?” he asked softly, “what it was like? These people don’t know. They were all immune last time. But you know what’s coming. They don’t have to feel that. They don’t have to do what we did, not if we stop it.”
“It would have been kinder to do it at the camp, before they were turned out. Before they were rejected by everyone,” said Vincent.
Frank shook his head. “Some of them are holding on. Some of them still have reasons to hang on. We shouldn’t rob them of whatever sanity they have left. Not until we must.” Nella reached out to clasp Frank’s hand, her breath suddenly tight and painful in her chest.
“What will you do, after we leave for the boat?” she asked in a whisper. “I thought more were coming with us. How will you manage?”
Vincent glanced around at the sleeping forms. “Our story is more transparent than I originally thought. There will be a few who accept the end. A few who will help those that can’t. Amos says that it is quick, if the amount is enough. Like drowning, he said. The people that have turned won’t even realize what has happened. Those that haven’t—” he stopped for a moment. “It will be frightening, and for that I am sorry.” His voice cracked. “God, forgive me,” he whispered.
“Forgive us all,” said Nella, leaning past Frank to hug Vincent.
Thirty-five
He squeezed the puckered edge of the stitched skin. Yellow fluid dribbled over his dirty hand, gassy and fetid. He wiped it away with his sleeve and stood up. The pressure was better, but now it throbbed from his touch. The boat will have better stuff. Good drugs. Alcohol maybe. The woman was a doctor, wasn’t she? She probably had things he could only dream of. He limped along the road. It had cracked and washed away in places, a patchwork of tar islands floating over gravel. He’d fallen into deep potholes more than once already, but the weeds growing in the bottom had cushioned him, preventing any serious damage. But the girl, the one-armed zombie scarecrow, had made sure that he was in trouble anyway.
His head buzzed as if it were filled with the horseflies that kept tangling in his hair and biting him. He wanted to vomit, but there wasn’t anything left in his stomach except a slosh or two of water that threatened to slide up and out every other step. He’d been more aware in the morning, catching the right road before he slipped down into the fever. Everything was too bright, too heavy with heat. He gasped to breathe though he wasn’t going much faster than a shuffle. He wanted to lie down in the cool moss at the edge of the road, the thick shadows of the trees promising relief from the buzzing and dizziness. But he couldn’t remember how much time had passed. He had to get to the boat before the others. He had to be long gone, uncatchable, by the time they arrived. So he kept going, licking his lips to cool them and thinking longingly of the deep purple damp of evening that seemed to creep further and further away.
He thought he was dreaming the bite of the salt air until he stumbled into the water and felt the chill of the ocean lap over his toes, splash up his leg and sting with an unholy sparkle of salt in his wound. The heaving gray-green hypnotized him as he looked up, making him forget for a few moments why he was there. The glare of the sun was even worse here and he squinted and stumbled backward onto the rocky beach, turning his face away. He sat for a while until his head stopped spinning quite so hard. He looked out over the water again, seeing the dark shadow of the sailboat. He was here first. He’d won. He glanced around for a rowboat, but gave up quickly. It was only a few hundred yards. He could swim it if he had to, wounded leg and all. He just had to have a little rest first. Just a nap on the chilled stones of the beach and then he’d be ready.
They started picking up stragglers the next morning. Never more than one or two at a time. Some had come willingly, hearing the broadcast and hoping to receive the Cure, they’d changed course, returning home. Others had been turned away from group after group and realizing they had nowhere else to go, had turned around again. It troubled Vincent that he couldn’t tell if there were Immunes among them. He couldn’t turn them away if they were. If he told them of the quarantine camp, he risked the Colony again and undermined the story of having found a cure even more than it already was. He hoped they were all sick, for their own sakes, but few were showing symptoms. His own group wasn’t so lucky, three more had started stumbling after breakfast. Father Preston had disappeared with the sprayer again, early that morning and collected a few more travelers, squeezing them into the cab or perched on the top of the sprayer, so that when they finally reached camp, they numbered almost thirty again, and Vincent began to have doubts about being able to control them. They were still two days away from the City and Frank and Nella would be slipping away that night. He’d be alone again.
The day was hot and dry, the cicadas song throbbed in the air around them. It was not a good day for the weaker set. It wasn’t even noon before the first attack. The camp had separated again, the healthy quickly outpacing the others again, except for the few that stayed to aid their fellows. More stopped to help than the day before, the sad confrontation at the camp having had some effect on the conscience of a few. Vincent was kneeling next to a man who had fallen, feeding him a few sips of water when it happened. The tail of the group had almost passed them, when one of the women stopped. She stood in the center of the road, swaying slightly. Vincent looked up at her. “Are you all right?” he asked. She didn’t answer, turning slowly in a circle as if looking for something. “Wendy? Did you lose something?” Something sparked as he called her by name. She stopped and turned slowly toward him. Vincent helped the other man to his feet.
“Are you thirsty, Wendy?” he asked holding the water bottle out hesitantly. The other man shambled slowly away toward the others as Wendy just stared at him. Vincent took a step toward her. “Is it the sun? We can walk in the shade in a moment or two, there’s a little wooded area ahead. It will be nice and cool.” He reached for her hand to lead her, and that’s when she snapped. There was no warning growl or shriek, no snarling expression, she just sprang at him, knocking him flat on his back in the dusty road. The water bottle skittered away as it flew from his hand. The woman scraped at his face with her fingers as her mouth opened. He could hear the muscles in her jaw creak as she opened wider and wider and
pushed down toward him.
“Remember yourself,” he begged, holding her arms back with his hands, her face still darting perilously close to his. She drooled with a gurgle in her throat. “Wendy, fight it,” he said. She lunged forward, closing her teeth on his ear. Vincent shouted and shoved her to the side. She rolled off him and he leapt up, but she followed close behind. He fumbled with the blade in his belt, the side of his face splattered with blood and collecting dust. He could hear footsteps running toward them. She’d attack whatever she could reach. Whoever was coming didn’t know what they were running into. He flung up an arm as she sprang at him again and her teeth tore into the tough skin of his forearm. His other hand freed the blade. He shook her off and held the large knife in front of him. “Please, Wendy, don’t make me—” but she leaped at him again, and the knife crunched through her ribs with a jarring thud as her momentum carried her farther and farther onto it. Vincent tried to take a step back but it was too late. Wendy was still flailing, grabbing for him even as she panted, her chest gaping and clenching around the blade.
“Forgive me,” said Vincent, and felt a hand on the hilt of the blade. Nella took it gently from him, holding Wendy’s shoulder, she twisted and then pulled, leaving a large hole that quickly foamed with a pink froth. Wendy staggered backward, gasping faster as she did, stumbling until she fell into the dirt. Nella knelt beside her and covered her nose and mouth with both of her hands, pressing even as she whipped her head sideways.
“Don’t—” cried Vincent.
Nella gritted her teeth for a second before speaking. “If I don’t it will take her another ten minutes to suffocate on her own blood. Terrified and in pain.” Wendy’s thrashing became frenzied and she tried to pull Nella’s arm away. She kicked and then slowed. she kept her hands over Wendy’s face until several seconds after she’d stopped and the foam on her chest started sinking away. “She won’t wake up now,” Nella said grimly, “she won’t feel it anymore.”
“Thank you,” said Vincent, but his voice was emotionless. Nella rose and began digging in her pack.
“We need to take care of those wounds,” she said, pulling out what was left of their first aid kit. They sat in the grass on the side of the road while Nella cleaned the bites. Vincent watched a dark stream of Wendy’s blood roll down the gravel and sink into the dust.
“What do we do with her?” he asked.
“If we stop to bury her, the others will turn back to see what’s happened to us,” said Nella.
“We can’t leave her here. It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not. Her body would also be contagious for a while. We’ll have to carry her to camp. We can bury her or cremate her when we get there.”
“Is anyone else— close?”
Nella shook her head. “I don’t think so, not any closer than this morning. But it’s hard to tell. Frank is with them, though. He knows what has to be done. I will carry her for a while. You need to let your wounds start to heal.”
Vincent shook his head. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I will carry my own burdens.”
Nella took his hand in hers. “Father, you didn’t kill her. A bacteria did. We were just witnesses.”
“But—”
“If it wasn’t the knife,” said Nella, “It would have been exposure in a few nights or thirst or starvation or falling off something high— she couldn’t take care of herself. It’s not your fault, and it’s not your burden. And if we don’t start sharing our troubles, none of us are going to make it to the City and none of the people we left behind will be safe. Let us help you, while we can.”
Vincent nodded slowly and they got to their feet. Nella picked up the woman’s body and draped it over her shoulders, thanking her luck that the road was relatively flat. She was relieved when they finally caught up to Frank and he lifted the woman from her for a turn. The expressions of the others upon seeing the woman’s body ranged from dull acceptance to fear but nobody asked about her or what happened, they just trudged along, sweating and stumbling in the afternoon sun. Nella kept an eye on Vincent, but except for an occasional itch at a bandage, he seemed okay.
She took the body back just before they reached the camp, the air finally cooling as the sun rolled behind the trees. She and Frank came over a small ridge, the last of the travelers and down into the same gas station where they had slept twice before. She was surprised to see how many extra people had gathered around the sprayer, but she didn’t have long to stare. Some of them challenged her, told her to drop the body, demanded that she find a place to wash before coming near them. Frank pulled her in close to him and walked her through the camp. She could feel his arms tighten and the scar on his cheek pulsed. She knew he was ready for a fight. But they drew close to the tire pit and the others let them pass. Together, they found the spot where they had buried three other Infected beneath the tires. Vincent brought them a soup can of gas he’d taken from the sprayer’s supply. Frank dumped it over the tires and lit it.
“Meant to do this months ago,” he said grimly. He looked up and found the pit surrounded by the others. “Most of you were Immune before,” he said loudly, “didn’t care what happened to the Infected outside the Barrier. Didn’t much care what happened to ‘em inside the Barrier either. But you’re starting to know now, what happened to us. Who we were. Why we should have mattered more to you. I wouldn’t have wished this on my worst enemy. We tried to stop it, Nella and I. We tried and we failed. I’m sorry this is happening to you. To us. This woman’s life mattered to someone. The people we buried here this spring mattered to someone. You matter to someone. Fighting each other is only going to make you turn faster. Show some compassion. We’re all dying. Every one of us. It isn’t a race. Help each other reach the— the Cure. That’s the only way you’ll get there.”
Nella pulled him gently away from the smoky flames and they helped Vincent back up the steep slope to the store. There was no talk of separation that night. The smoke was heavy and oily and foul, a thick recrimination with every breath. They had no energy to argue and Vincent sat with Nella and Frank in the shadow of the empty gas pumps watching them.
“More will turn. Tonight and tomorrow. The next day too, before we reach the boat. How will you manage?” asked Frank.
Vincent shook his head. “I’m not even certain how I would have managed today. I will be ready, next time.”
Nella opened her pack. She pulled out the pistol and a box of bullets. “Maybe this would be easier,” she said, placing them in front of his bent knees.
“I don’t know anything about guns,” he said. “With a knife I can’t miss. Not really. And what if you needed it? I don’t know what you will face once you get to the City docks. No, I have trusted in the goodness of people so far, I will continue to believe in that until I no longer can. If the worst happens— Father Preston knows what the sprayer can do. If we don’t meet you at the docks, you will know that we had to do it early.” He handed Nella a large pack instead. “There are two suits in here and two cans of the pesticide. In case. I hope we will be able to do it all, but Amos thought it would take more than us. I will find you if I am able.” He stopped and Nella repacked the pistol and arranged the suits and cans within her pack.
Vincent put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I just want to thank you again for curing me. Us. From where you’re sitting it must seem pretty pointless now. I wanted you to know that every day of sanity I’ve had since you found us has been a gift. Even ending the way it will. I’d do it all over again if I had the choice.”
“I wish we’d been friends long before now,” whispered Nella.
“Isn’t there anything we can do to help? Anything we can leave with you to make it easier? Maybe we should stay. Find another way,” said Frank.
Vincent shook his head. “This way is best. We need you there at the docks to make sure we finish. And to carry any Immunes away. There must be a few. They need an escape. Someplace safe they can wait out quarantine. Your job is to give
us hope. It’s more important than you know.”
Nella shouldered her pack. “We will see you at the dock, Father. Three days.”
Frank stood up. “Good luck,” he said sticking out his hand. Vincent shook it.
“To you as well.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “I hope that Gray is long gone, but if you should see him— Molly was dear to me. They all are, back there. Don’t let him hurt any more of them.”
Frank nodded. He slid an arm around Nella’s waist and they slipped through the shadows into the forest across the road, seen only by Vincent in the cloudy, moonless night.
Thirty-six
Nella clung to Frank in the dark, the heavy pack overwhelming her balance and the roots underfoot threatening to send her flying every third step.
“I know you hate this,” he whispered. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll turn on the lantern. I just want to be sure we’re out of sight.”
“I’m okay,” she lied. Her hands were sweating and she knew he could tell that she was nervous.
“In a few days, we’ll be back at the boat with the stars all around us.”
She smiled. It was the closest thing to a plan he’d said in weeks. She tripped and went sprawling into the dirt. He groped for her in the dark and helped her sit up.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said spitting a pine needle from her lips. “But I can’t see anything.”
He reached over her back and pulled out the lantern lighting it between them. She brushed off her hands in the bright electric glow and gently picked crumbling leaves from her hair. The harsh light drew deep shadows in his eye sockets and etched lines into his gaunt cheeks. She cupped his chin in her hands. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she said.
“I can’t. How could I? I’d miss time with you. Time I’ll never have again.”
The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) Page 21