by C. E. Case
"You have to have apple slices," she said.
Merritt looked confused.
"And after that, we'll go to the children's museum, okay?"
"Okay. Can I pet the snakes?" Beau asked.
Merritt shrieked. "I don't want to see any snakes."
"Beau can pet the snakes. And Merritt, you and I will go watch the tide machine, okay?"
Merritt nodded against her arm.
"But first, I'm getting an apple pie," she said.
She herded the boys back into their booster seats and strapped them in, and then got in the driver's seat. The prison loomed in front of her. She blinked away tears.
"Just a little setback. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."
#
Jolene frothed at the mouth. Her legs were strapped down to the infirmary bed but her arms were free and she held Meredith's hand in a tight grip.
"You have to give me something. You have to."
"I'm giving you all I can," Meredith said. She tried to speak in a soothing voice, tried to keep a calming touch on Jolene's sweat-soaked forehead. But Jolene was burning up, and Jolene was hurting her. She wanted to run away.
The clock was ticking. Natalie was outside, waiting for her.
"Drugs. Oh my God, how much pain do I have to be in before you give me drugs?"
"The doctor will be here any minute."
"You said that before. He's not here. It's just you and me, Meredith."
And the guard outside. Just the three of them. The rest of the guards were restoring order, double-checking, after Jolene, overly pissy for days, finally punched Burdette.
And had not stopped punching her.
"Why didn't you tell anyone you were sick?" Meredith asked.
"I just had a headache. They won't even give you advil around here."
Meredith stroked Jolene's forehead.
Jolene groaned.
"The doctor's got to come up from the Rocky Mount hospital. But then he'll give you something for the pain, all right?"
"Give me what."
"Whatever you want. Oxycontin. Morphine. Percocet."
Jolene smirked, her teeth clenched. "What do you think I have?"
"You got bit by any animals lately? Dog? Cat? Possum?"
"No. The heck?"
"Bats?"
"Yeah. I found a bat a few days ago. Just tossed it over the fence. It didn't bite me or anything. Oh, God, is this what becoming a vampire feels like?"
Meredith smiled.
Jolene glanced at her, shaking with pain. "Let me tell you, it sucks."
"I believe you."
"I know this ain't Anne Rice. Tell me what I got, Merry."
"I'm not a doctor."
"You know, don't you. You know. Merry, please."
"I don't know. Probably just a bad flu. An infection. Some mold from the shower."
Jolene shuddered and Meredith gripped her hand.
When the doctor came, Meredith would tell him. Then she'd demand the vaccination shots. Then the whole place would go into lockdown. It wouldn't matter for Jolene. The rabies would kill her.
#
"Let me call Natalie," Meredith said.
Ida walked her back to the ward. "Can't."
"Please. She drove up here, didn't she?"
Ida was silent.
"Ida. Please just tell me."
"She came. With your kids. Leave was cancelled."
"Let me call her. Let me explain."
"I can't."
"Ida--"
"Stop asking, Jameison."
Meredith cringed. Whatever she said next would mean a loss of privileges.
Ida opened the gate. "Maybe tomorrow."
Meredith nodded and went through.
"Merry?"
Meredith turned back, peering at Ida through the bars.
"What about Jolene?"
Meredith shook her head.
Ida turned away.
Meredith made her way to the chapel and curled up in a pew, her back against the wall. She wanted to cry. She wanted to heave.
She didn't want to pray, but she did, for Jolene's body and soul. There would be no more chances for Jolene's redemption, no more time for her to get a clue, to change, to find joy or love or children. Meredith pressed her cheek to her knees. She didn't glance up when Siba came in. She closed her eyes against the faint sound of prayers. Mecca was that way. She didn't look.
Then Siba slid into the pew beside her.
Meredith exhaled.
"What's wrong with Jolene?" Siba asked.
"She's sick. Real sick."
"She going to get better?"
"No."
"We going to get sick?"
The fear went through Meredith's heart, paralyzing her. She thought of Natalie. She closed her eyes.
"Merry?"
"No. We're not going to get sick."
"But Jolene."
"Yeah."
"We should include Jolene in our prayers."
"Yeah."
"How long she have?"
"A few days. They're going to move her to Rocky Mount Hospital. Pump her full of painkillers. Watch her go."
"I always thought Jolene was a bitch. But now." Siba's voice trailed off.
"Yeah. She'll die that way."
"Instead of as someone else. So sad."
Meredith nodded. She kept her eyes shut. Otherwise tears would rush out.
"Ladies?"
"It's Ida," Siba said. "And a stranger. Dressed up like you."
Meredith sat up and rubbed her eyes.
A nurse standing next to Ida held up a syringe box. "I'm going to have to give you these, okay? Mandatory."
Siba turned to Meredith.
Meredith nodded.
Siba swallowed. "Where?"
"In your arm. What are your names?"
"That's Merry and Siba. I'll check them off." Ida studied her clipboard.
Siba slid out of the pew and into the next one. She winced as the nurse injected her. Then the nurse moved to Meredith.
Meredith offered her arm.
"You've been exposed? You're Merry?"
Meredith nodded.
"You touched the patient."
Meredith had her hands all over Jolene. There'd been sweat and foam and finger-crushing grips. She remembered the heat under her hand, and Jolene's rapid heartbeat. She nodded.
"Did you have gloves?"
"Didn't have time. Jolene was insistent. I wasn't stationed in the infirmary at the time. I just saw her punch Burdette."
"Burdette tagged, too?"
Ida nodded.
"Okay. We'll monitor you both. And a couple of Jolene's other friends."
Siba snorted.
Ida raised her eyebrows.
"Jolene didn't have many friends. She'd only been here a few weeks," Ida said.
"Must be hard. If she'd been on the outside--"
"She would have picked up a damn, cute, fuzzy little bat in her backyard," Ida said.
"Or called animal control," Siba said.
Meredith sighed, barely jerking when the needle went into her arm.
"You didn't hesitate?" the nurse asked.
"I'm a nurse."
"Seen worse?"
"I've seen bad."
People dying of cancer, so gaunt and wracked with pain their own families could barely stay with them, lingering, inevitably toward death. And Natalie, half-dead raw meat scraped off the highway, barely even human.
"Rabies is really bad," Meredith said.
"I've never seen a case. But we always expect one," the nurse said.
Meredith nodded. "I'd better go with you. Help people understand." She got up.
"I'll put it in your file," Ida said.
"Thanks."
Maybe it would buy her enough cooperation to call Natalie.
She couldn't think of tomorrow, not when today Burdette was still in the dining hall, with an ice pack on her cheek, covering up bruises and dried blood.
; # #
Chapter Forty-Six
Luis leaned against the car window. Trees went by. Grasses. More trees. A tobacco field. He glanced back at his driver. "So, you get me sent all the way down to Burgaw, and now you're dragging me all the way back to Tarpley?"
"You're implying I'm in charge of your life," Natalie said.
"Aren't you?" He scowled and tapped his head against the window. Tap, tap, tap. She tried to ignore it. She wished for music to blast it away. No music. That would lead to arguing. So just driving.
Tap.
"When the choice is getting burned by holy water or rotting in that place, I'll do whatever. Hell, I'll dig ditches."
"Is it that bad?"
"It's jail. I mean, even if it wasn't that bad, it'd still be bad. I'm used to doing whatever I want. I can't do anything now."
Natalie nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Tap. "Where are you taking me?"
"My church," she said.
"What, like where faggots and fairies go to pray for rainbows?"
She glanced at him.
He coughed. "Sorry. Um. What, some Orthodox thing?"
"Come on, Luis."
"Sorry, you don't know what kind of conversations I have every day in jail."
"I can imagine."
"Because of your--"
"Right." She gave him another warning look.
He grinned. "I'm not going to call her any names, I swear."
"How's your family, Luis?"
"Dad drives down like, every other day. Doesn't he have stuff to do in Duplin? Serve and protect?" Luis shook his head. "My brother, lots. My sister, she couldn't be fucking bothered. In fact, she's pissed I wasn't bringing her money every week like I used to. So now I'm worthless. She doesn't even have to pretend to be nice."
"But with the people who do come?"
"Yeah, it's better. Dad has to be nicer. After making all that effort, he doesn't want to waste it."
"And you?"
Luis slouched in his seat.
She glanced at him.
"Whatever, I miss my family."
She glanced back at the road.
"I'm sure they miss their family too. This is so messed up."
She nodded, and drove in silence.
He let out a heavy sigh.
"Guess again?"
"Where we're going?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to Hell," he said.
"Luis."
"Okay, okay. Lighten up, man."
She glanced over, taking in his gray skin, his slightly trembling hands, and his washed but tousled hair. She tried to lighten up.
He shifted, facing her. "You're going to take me to one of those crazy foreign churches, right? Orthodox?"
"Not Orthodox."
'But you're Orthodox."
"I was."
"You can never not be something you were."
"Deep, Luis."
"It's not fair."
"What's not?"
"Life."
"Right."
He stared at her as if she were stupid.
#
When the car pulled into the parking lot, he frowned at the tiny church. "Catholic? Look, not all hispanics are Catholic, chica."
"I told you, this is the church I attend."
"Y por que?"
"Because--Just because." She didn't want to go into it. Why Meredith refused to go back to the little Baptist Community church was her business, not Natalie's. Natalie would have preferred something else--anything else--but Meredith was gone, and Angel was here, and he was looking out for them.
"Are your kids coming?" he asked.
"Yeah. Angel's bringing them. They wouldn't have enjoyed a trip down to Burgaw."
"What, an hour in the car with you?"
"It's four hours round trip every Saturday morning. They just love incarceration."
Luis scowled, but didn't say anything as they got out of the car. He tugged at his suit. He'd changed in the car. No fashion in prison. But it was his own, and the tie his father bought him when he turned sixteen. He glanced around.
Natalie took his elbow.
"Does everyone know who I am?" he asked.
"Yup."
"You probably won't be able to come back to church here."
"Whatever."
Natalie guided him toward the doors. A woman greeted them and handed them programs. Luis craned his neck as they passed into the cool, dusky atrium. "Who's that?"
"No idea."
He frowned.
"I don't volunteer here, Luis. I just show up with my kids and sit in the back."
"What kind of church is that?"
"What kind of church did you go to?"
He shrugged. "I haven't been since Sunday School. But we went to Assembly of God. We could like, walk from here." He pointed at the church across the street.
"Well, we're here now."
"I could make a break for it."
"What would you do?" Natalie asked, as they slid into a pew.
"Go out into the woods and cry about what I've done? Why bother? I can do that in jail."
"Aloha, chica," Angel said, appearing at their pew.
Natalie got up to kiss him.
Beau slithered past him to hug her waist. She patted his hair. "Thanks for bringing them."
"No problem." He glanced past her at Luis.
"Angel, this is Luis. Luis, Angel."
Luis nodded.
Angel nodded. "We'll just--" He took Merritt's hand and walked around to the other side of the pew, so Merritt sat next to Luis, and then Angel. Natalie sat on Luis' left side, and then Beau. She put an arm around Beau's shoulders.
"When we go find a new church with mommy, can it meet later?" Beau asked.
Natalie nodded.
Angel scoffed. "Morning has broken."
"Like the first morning," Luis said.
Angel punched his arm.
Merritt reached for a Bible and opened it at random and began to read.
Luis raised his eyebrows.
"He gets bored. But--"
"It's Corinthians. And it's in Spanish. And he's five."
"Siempre doy gracias a Dios por ustedes, pues él, en Cristo Jesús, les ha dado su gracia," Merritt read.
Angel shuddered.
"Dude, that's like, the worst pronunciation I ever heard," Luis said.
"I don't know what it means, either," Merritt said.
Beau leaned into Natalie's shoulder.
"I don't get it," Luis said.
"I grew up going to Russian services. I had no idea what was going on. This is kind of like home."
"And the boys are learning, right?" Angel asked.
Merritt grinned and read another sentence.
"That's right. It's the future. Listen up," Luis said.
"Are you sure I should be in your secret club, Angel?" Natalie asked.
"Yeah, I second that," Luis said.
"Everybody's welcome in the House of the Lord."
#
Luis sat down as the hymn ended. He hadn't known the words, and he'd been subjected to Natalie's terrible pronunciations as she read alongside him. Beau mimicked Angel's sounds on the chorus and sounded pretty good. Luis had been able to follow along the text, but he didn't read Spanish well.
He had no use for reading it--he spoke it because everyone around him spoke it--but he'd eschewed his peers in high school and learned German instead, which worked out well. He'd gotten Bs in German while his compadres got Cs and Ds in Spanish. He'd mocked them in German, and had only gotten punched once.
He got called a Nazi a bunch of times, though.
The priest went up to the podium. Before today, Luis wasn't sure when he'd seen an actual live priest. Collar and all. He was like in a TV show.
"Weekly prayer requests..." Luis translated in his head, half-paying attention.
Merritt was kicking him, his foot swinging sideways. Making light, noticable impact with his calf. He didn't
know how to try and make the kid stop without making a scene, but it was annoying, and the more it went on, the more it hurt. Merritt was carving a bruise into his skin.
Kick.
"...Roger and Erin Garden, whose daughters Sarah annd Laurie, surely watch over them..."
"Stop, dude," Luis said.
Merritt ignored him.
Angel glanced over.
"And let us pray for those incarcerated... Jose Lupone... Juan Cansada... "
Merritt kicked harder.
"Jerk," Luis said a little louder.
Merritt smirked.
"...Meredith Jameison..."
Beau glanced up. Angel put his hand on Merritt's shoulder.
"...And Luis Duarte."
Luis clamped his hand down on Merritt's leg. Merritt let out a howl. Angel moved his hand from Merritt's shoulder to his mouth, covering it, and leaned over to whisper something to him.
Merritt squirmed.
Luis glared at Natalie. "They're praying for me?"
She didn't look at him. "It's time to pass the peace."
He automatically stood with the rest of them and offered his hand. "La paz sea..." he said. Strangers touched him. He wanted to run, to get some air, but Natalie and Angel had him boxed in. He couldn't push past him. Angel could take him down. And Natalie--
He raged silently, because the only other choice was more humiliation. He didn't sing the last hymn. He just stared stonily ahead.
The priest met his eyes.
#
Luis followed Natalie, who held a boy's hand in each of hers, and stepped from the atrium into the sunlight. He blinked and shivered. Late September. At least he'd be warm this winter. He wouldn't have to drive all over the county in the cold. He wouldn't have to spend Thanksgiving with his sister, or babysit her kids, or try and pick out the perfect Christmas present for his father.
Feliz Navidad, he thought.
Natalie stopped by Angel's car. "We're going to have lunch, on the lawn. Just us. I thought you might want to talk to the priest, when the crowds have left?"
"No," Luis said.
Natalie pulled a cooler out of the trunk.
"Yeah."
Natalie nodded.
Angel smacked Luis on the back. "Nice meeting you."
"You too."
Angel got into his car. Natalie handed the cooler to Merritt, who struggled but moved toward the lawn.
"He's leaving?" Luis asked.
"Yup. It's just you and me."
"What if I bolt?"
"The cops'll hunt you and shoot you like a dog," Natalie said.
"Uh."
"Not really. But I'll probably never get hired again."