by Ruby Dixon
Andrea tenses at my back, peeking out from behind me, her hand on my arm. Just that small touch distracts me, to the point that I lose focus. "…what do you mean, sick?"
I blink, trying to pay attention.
The woman steps forward a bit more, and then stops, leaving a drakoni's battle form in length between us. She won't come any closer. "I mean they're sick. All of them. People have been dying all day and if you come any closer, you'll get it, too."
"What is it?" Gabe asks.
The woman shrugs, and even that small gesture seems to be a great effort. "Flu? Pneumonia? Does it even matter? There are no doctors, no drugs, no nothing. We're going to die."
"What about the people from Fort Justice?" Andrea asks, taking another step forward. I reach out to grab her in case she moves too close to the woman, but she stops a few paces away from me, lowering her gun. "Is that what happened there? We went and found no one, just graves."
The stranger nods slowly. "They came here, looking for help. And they brought it to us. Now they're going to wipe out both forts." She shakes her head, as if saddened.
"What about my brother? His name's Benny, and he's a young boy. He'd have come with the Fort Justice people," Andrea says, the words rushing out of her. "He's got a chipped tooth in front and he's about fourteen…"
The woman's expression turns sorrowful.
"No," Andrea cries weakly. "No, no, please." She stumbles forward and I catch her. "Where is he?"
The woman sighs. "In the sick room with everyone else. It's easier to take care of them if we're all together."
Andrea turns to look at me. Her eyes are shining with determination and tears. "I'm going to him," she tells me, pushing my hands away.
"No." I don't understand this “sickness” the humans have. It's not something that happens with drakoni. I've seen humans that say they don't feel well, that vomit and sweat and then get better in a day or two. I thought it was bad food, but this female is scaring Andrea and makes it sound as if it's something else entirely…and that means I don't want her going anywhere near it. "If she says you should stay away, you should. I will not risk your life, Andrea."
"Bullshit," my female says, just as quick. "You don't understand, Liam. It doesn't matter. If it's something contagious, we could already have it. I slept in one of their beds last night. I touched their things. That's all it could take for me to catch whatever flu they have."
Horror dawns on me. "What happens if you catch it?"
"I die, or I get better." She gives me a faint smile.
I won't let her die. Just the thought makes me feel wild inside, my mental walls cracking apart. I grip her arms and resist the urge to drag her against me and protect her from whatever unseen horror this is. "I do not understand what this is, Andrea. I don't like it."
"It's a sickness," she tells me patiently, reaching up to touch my face. "And there's nothing to do. If I'm infected, we'll know soon enough." She turns to look over at the woman, who stands and waits, stinking of the miasma that must be the sickness. "Maybe I'll get lucky and be spared, like her."
The woman shakes her head, the movement slow. "Who says I'm not sick? I'm just doing what I can until I can't stand upright any longer." She watches us, waiting, and I notice her eyes are slightly glazed, her skin flushed with beads of sweat. The hands she clasps in front of her are trembling.
I step in front of Andrea, as if I can shield her from this woman and her sickness. "No," I growl.
"I have to see Benny," Andrea says gently. "Liam, if he's in there and sick, I need to take care of him. I need to be at his side. I'm not going to let him suffer through this surrounded by strangers." Her voice chokes a little.
"If you come in, you're dooming yourself," the woman warns, and I want to grab her and wring her skinny neck. "We've had seven die this morning and five last night, and there's more to come. Everyone here's sick. Everyone."
"He's my brother," Andrea says simply. She takes her shotgun, puts the safety on, and then slides it into the carrying case and slings it back over her shoulder. Her expression is calm and she looks over at me and Gabe. "Gabe, you shouldn't go in, though. You have Lester and the others to think about."
He shakes his head. "I can't go anywhere until I find out if I'm sick or not, either. I slept there last night, too."
I cross two steps and lean over to sniff him. He smells like Gabe—sweat and human male. "I don't smell it on you." I move back to Andrea's side and try to take her hand. "Or on you."
"Do you smell it on me?" the woman asks.
The room grows quiet. I get the feeling that I'm pronouncing a death sentence when I admit, "I can smell it on you from here."
But she only nods, as if tired, and turns around to head back into the room she came from.
"That must be what you were smelling that was different," Andrea says. "It makes sense now. That's why they left everything behind. They thought someone here could help and they'd come back. But…it sounds like it's worse than they thought."
"Which is why you can't go," I growl.
She refuses my touch, though, shaking her head. "I'm going to my brother. We could all be sick. I’m not going to let him suffer alone.”
And because I cannot blame her, I follow.
20
ANDI
This is a nightmare.
I slowly walk inside the old clothing store, telling myself that this is all not happening. That Benny's playing the world's unfunniest prank and he'll hop up from behind a counter somewhere and laugh his fool head off. As I move forward, though, the reality of this slowly hits. There are rows and rows of people in rough pallets on the ground, little more than blankets and pillows spread out on the floor. Some of them have containers next to their beds, and there's the occasional coughing, but it's quiet.
So very quiet. And that's the scariest thing of all.
I stare at the rows of people. There have to be at least fifty lying out here in sickbeds. More, probably. The woman said they'd already lost twelve, and I can only imagine how many more are going to die. It looks like the whole fort itself is sick. The room feels hot and stuffy with no windows, and I can practically feel the sickness on my skin. I rub my arms as I step forward, looking for Benny. One blanket-covered lump looks the same as any other, though, so I lean over the closest person and check the face.
It's a woman, her eyes glassy as she stares up at me. Her face is flushed and her hair is sweaty, but she's shivering. Blood flecks her slack mouth.
"Hi," I whisper, trying to smile. I feel so guilty just looking down at her that I instantly want to help. "Can I get you anything?"
She just continues to shiver, ignoring me, and so I tuck the blanket close to her again and move on.
There's a mother and child curled in the next set of blankets, so I move on. I don't want to see their faces. I don't want to know. A man is in the next pallet, also too big to be Benny, and his arms thrash wildly as he turns back and forth, lost in his fever. I look over at the woman who's been tending to everyone, but she doesn't move over to the man to help him. She just calmly wets more towels in a bucket and moves to the closest person, pressing one to a sweating brow.
I guess she's doing the best she can.
I move past another person, and this one's about the right size for Benny, but when I pull the blankets back, it's a young girl…and her eyes are open and staring at nothing. For a moment, I think she's like the other woman, but then I notice the waxy cast of her skin and she's not breathing. Oh god. I pull the blankets over her face and mentally say a little prayer. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
There are so many people that I'm crying before I reach the end of the first row. There's another dead person, a balding man, and there's a few more that it's clear are going to be dead soon. The worst is the children, thrashing in the grip of a fever and there's nothing to give them. I want to help everyone…and I want to run away in sheer horror.
Every day is already hard enough in the After. Do we have to dea
l with sickness like this, too? It's so unfair. Every pharmacy out there has already been cleaned out, and there are no doctors to give flu shots. We're so vulnerable to even the most common viruses now, and I'm all too acutely aware of it.
I routinely turn another sick person over, and it takes me a moment to realize I'm looking down at my brother. Oh my god.
I drop to my knees next to him, touching his sleeping face. In the week or so that he's been gone, he looks as if he's dropped ten pounds. He's already a skinny, gangly kid so he looks positively skeletal and it breaks my heart to see his cheekbones so pronounced. His eyes are sunken and his sandy hair is dark with sweat. His entire body is shivering, and I want to burst into tears at the sight of him.
Benny opens his eyes, and for a terrifying moment, I worry he's going to stare right past me. But he gives me a crooked, tired smile. "Andi?"
"Hey," I say softly, smiling down at him. For some reason, the tears don't come. I'm calm. I'm strong, because he needs me to be.
"I'm sick."
"I know, buddy. It's okay. I'll take care of you."
"How did you find me?" He blinks slowly, sleepily, as if it's a great effort to do so.
"I'm your sister, dork," I tease gently. I stroke the sweaty hair back from his face. "You think I wouldn't come after you once I heard you flew the coop? Liam helped me find you."
His face creases in a tired smile. "Liam's here?"
I fight back the ache of jealousy that my brother should get so excited over Liam instead of me. Now's not the time. "Yup, he's here."
A big, warm hand clasps my shoulder and in the next moment, Liam's crouching next to me beside Benny's blankets. "I'm here," he says.
"Hey, Liam. How's it going?"
Liam chuckles, but his grip is firm and reassuring on my shoulder, as if telling me he's got me. "You scared the shit out of your sister."
"Sorry, Andi," he says, and his eyes fill with tears. "I just wanted…friends, you know?"
"Oh, don't apologize, Benny." I stroke his forehead. "I'll kill you later, when you're feeling better. For now, you just rest, okay? I'm sorry I didn't realize you were so miserable. I'll try to be a better sister."
"Not your fault," he mumbles, and then gives a long, violent shiver. "I'm thirsty."
"I'll get you some water." I pull out my canteen and then pause. If he's sick and I'm not, him putting his lips on my drinking vessel won't help matters. With an aching heart, I get up and approach the woman who greeted us. "Do you have any cups?"
She gestures tiredly over at a table that's set up in a corner. I see supplies there, as if people realized they were going to be violently ill soon enough and would need things nearby. I pick up a plastic cup from the stack and notice that the buckets full of water are nearly empty. There's a few old faded cartons of snack foods that someone must have been saving for special occasions, but they're out now. I can't even get excited about that. I snag a cellophane-wrapped Twinkie for my brother—he used to love them as a tiny kid—and fill up the cup with water and then return to his side.
Liam's there, holding his hand and talking softly to him. My heart squeezes at the sight and I sit down again, helping Benny upright so he can drink. He only takes a few tiny sips, little more than enough to wet his lips, and then pushes it away.
"I'm tired," he murmurs, lying back down.
"Are you hungry? They have Twinkies," I say, putting a cajoling note in my voice.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes, going to sleep almost immediately. My heart clenches again, this time with fear. I look over at Liam, whose face is grim. "What was he saying to you?" I can't help but ask.
Liam's mouth is a tight line. "He wanted me to look after you when he's gone."
"He's not going anywhere." I don't care if he meant gone as in off to another fort when he gets better, or if he means…gone. Either way, I'm not letting my brother go. I take his hand in mine and gaze down at him as he sleeps, full of determination.
He's not fucking dying. He's not.
21
LIAM
This “sickness” thing is confusing to me. My Andrea is utterly focused on her brother, not leaving his side. She bathes his forehead and talks quietly to him when he wakes up, but she won't leave even to take a break. She doesn't want him to wake up and think she's gone.
I understand it, but it leaves me at a loss of what to do with myself. Back in my world, I was a warrior. Even when I was slinking through the outskirts of the human settlements, I did what I could to help out with hunting or tending gardens. I watch over Andrea for a time, and then I turn to the human Gabe to see what he does.
He has been a curious one to watch. He left his dog Scooter at the entrance to the building. The moment we encountered the sick, he took a stick—a pen—and wrote a note, then attached it to Scooter’s collar.
“I’m sending him home,” he tells me and Andi. “So Major and the others don’t worry…and so they don’t come looking for us.”
He sends the dog off, a grim look on his face. Then, he heads back into the room and immediately goes to the sick. He moves from bed to bed, touching foreheads and wiping down faces. He holds someone up as they vomit and cleans them when they are done. His expression is calm and grim, and when the woman steps outside to catch her breath, he continues on to the next bed, as if tireless.
He does this for hours.
I watch him, then move forward as he bathes another's forehead. Perhaps Gabe has the answers I seek. "May I ask something?"
"You can if you get more water," he tells me. "We're running low."
I can do that. I'm glad to be given something to do. I don't like sitting around and feeling useless. I need to be helping in some way, if only to support Andrea in her quest to get her brother better from this mysterious “sickness” that makes him so weak. So I take a few of the buckets and follow the scent-trails throughout the large building. There are paths that people walk regularly, and I follow one to a large pool with a decorative stone fish in the center. The water here smells like soap and bathing, so I continue on until I find one of the spouts that the humans use back in Fort Shreveport. I turn it with a creak, and sure enough, fresh water spurts, and then pours out. I fill up the buckets, return to the dwelling where all the humans are piled in, and then fill every other bucket I can.
I look over at Andrea when this is done, but she's lying down beside Benny, talking in a low voice, her arm around her brother's shoulders and hugging him against her. I study her face, tense, waiting to see if she starts pouring sweat like the other humans, or for her to shiver, but she seems fine. I deliberately walk close and breathe in her scent, testing it, but there is no clinging miasma. Good.
The human male is sitting near a new person, and the stink of feces hits me like a wall. I choke, covering my mouth, as he pulls the blankets over the face of the human. Dead, then, and his bowels voided as he passed. Even though I hate the thought of touching such a stink, I approach Gabe. "Can I help you move the bodies?"
He nods, rubbing a hand over his face. "We'll cremate them later, I think, but for now it's easiest to just get them out of the sickroom. I appreciate the help."
I want to tell him that I'm not doing it for him, or for any of the others that lie here. I want the dead and the sick as far away from my Andrea—and Benny—as possible because I do not understand this thing that has felled so many. So I help him wrap the body of the woman in the sheets, and then we each take an end and carry her across the building, to another room where there are many more laid out. Twenty, now, a handful of them from after when we arrived.
We gently set the body down and I look over at Gabe. "Now that we are alone, explain to me this 'sickness.'"
He gives me a skeptical look. "Your people don't get illnesses?"
"Drakoni? No."
"Coughs? Sniffles? Something that makes you feel ill or raises your body temperature? Anything?"
I spread my hands. "I do not understand any of this."
"Then you probably won't catch it, but I think Andi and I are in danger." He rubs a hand over his face and then shakes his head. "So…illness is something that you can catch from another human. It might be from a touching of hands or even breathing air. If this is the flu like we think it is, you get infected from being around others. Once it's in your system, you either wait for your body to fight it off or…"
I look down at the dead, stinking and covered in sheets around us. "Or you end up here."
"Right."
"What can I do?" I want to protect Andrea and her brother, but I don't know how. If I can't see it, how can I fight it?
"You can do what I'm doing. Give people water. Keep them hydrated. Make them comfortable. And wait. Back in the day we used to have all kinds of medicine for this sort of thing, but now I don't even have a fistful of aspirin." He shakes his head, frustration on his face.
I grunt acknowledgement, but I don't like his answer. There must be more we can do. "Can we go looking for aspirin? Or medicine?"
"If there's a pharmacy within a few miles of here, it'll be picked clean already." Gabe gives me an assessing look. "A dragon could fly a lot farther than a human could walk in a day."
"I can't shift forms," I tell him harshly. "Do not even ask such a thing." Because if I could, I would have done so a dozen times over. Benny would not be here. Andrea would not be here.
None of this would have happened.
The afternoon passes slowly. I fetch more water as Gabe moves amongst the sick, and Andrea tends to her brother. Benny isn't doing well. He's thin and sleeps more than he's awake, and I can tell that Andrea's worried.
The woman that greeted us at the entrance of the fort lay down a few hours ago and hasn't gotten back up. Gabe moves to her side, sighs heavily, and then puts a wet cloth on her forehead like he does for all the other sick.