Into the Wilderness: Blood of the Lamb (Book Two)

by Mandy Hager

  She pushed Lazarus into the first empty stall she came to, propping him up against the wall with her shoulder while she turned on the tap. Cold salty water rained down on them both as she manoeuvred him to a sitting position on the ground under the shower's cool but patchy flow.

  Gradually his curses petered out and Lazarus slipped back into a listless doze. His forehead was growing cooler, and the ugly marks that marred his skin began to lose their angry bloom. Maryam let the water flow for a little longer, trying to judge the delicate balance between cooling him enough to bring his fever down and giving him a further deadly chill. At last she turned off the tap and, with Ruth's help, dragged him back to his feet.

  As they dripped their way along the walkway, Maryam was no longer bothered about the curious stares of onlookers. She sensed she could rely on the unspoken unity between the detainees to keep Lazarus's presence secret for now. Back at the hut they stripped him of his sodden clothes, averting their eyes from his private places, and lay him back under a dry blanket on his mat.

  The whole episode had eaten every last scrap of Maryam's strength. She stripped off her own soaked dress and wrapped another thin blanket around her like a sarong. Then she lay down to rest. She drifted off to the musical whisperings of Ruth's rekindled prayers, setting an alarm in her subconscious so she wouldn't sleep too long. Lazarus would need another dose of pills four hours from now.

  She stirred from a muddled dream of Joseph to find Ruth sound asleep and the camp deathly quiet. For a moment she just lay there, trying to determine why this silence should matter so; then, with a sickening lurch, she realised she could no longer hear Lazarus's rasping breaths.

  What if she had chilled him so much he was dead? She sprang up from her mat and stumbled over to his side. Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark and she couldn't tell if his chest still moved, so she dipped her head down, placing her cheek close to his mouth and nose to see if she could feel any shift of air.

  “A naked angel,” Lazarus croaked, as Maryam reeled upwards with shock. She'd forgotten her blanket! “Heaven is better than I hoped!”

  “Pig!” But she laughed too, and gathered the rug around herself as she settled by his side. “How are you feeling now? You gave us quite a scare.”

  “Really? I don't remember much.” Lazarus fumbled for the cup she offered and took a sip. “I did have a nightmare about some crazy girl trying to drown me, though.” He chuckled, but instantly it brought on another fit of coughing.

  Maryam retrieved his next dose of pills. “Take these, or that same crazy girl will stuff them down your throat again.”

  This time Lazarus swallowed the pills without a fuss. He groaned as he flopped back on the mat. “I feel like I've been beaten up again, only this time from the inside out.”

  To hear him speak like this, still groggy but lucid and cracking jokes, gladdened Maryam's heart. He was going to survive, she was sure of it now. Like the Lazarus of old, he'd come back from the dead. “Try to get some sleep,” she urged him. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

  “I'm not.” He reached out a hand and placed it on her knee. “I owe you a lot. Everything, really. How can I ever thank you?”

  She pressed her hand over his for a moment then firmly lifted it back onto his chest. “Get better. That will be enough.”

  She tiptoed outside, hoisting her blanket up over her shoulders. She was too stirred up to sleep. The site of her infected wound burnt as if branded by a red-hot ember and she feared the outcome for her arm, but for the moment she would push back her anxiety and try to focus on the good. Joseph, do you hear me? He's going to live. She thought how joyful he would be, how happy that his cousin had been saved.

  An unannounced tear tracked down her cheek. Then another. And another. If only it were Joseph who now lay inside the hut reborn…She retrieved the small blue stone, her talisman, from the place where she had stashed it on the crudely formed shelf beside the door, and pressed it to her forehead, right between her two closed eyes—sure she could feel its cobalt magic permeating the layers of skin right to her brain. It encircled the gnawing pain in her, diffusing it with coloured calm. Behind her eyelids the swirl of blue summoned up the mainstays of her past: the blue-eyed boy she had loved and lost…the pristine lagoon around that special island, Oneweēre, where her mother's bones now lay…

  To think that all along Te Matee Iai could be cured. A miracle far more convincing and enduring, surely, than any Father Joshua could conjure up. Imagine what it would mean to the people of Oneweēre if they had access to it: no more families torn apart, no more painful deaths. And no more bleeding of the Sisters—in fact, no more excuse to hold the Sisters hostage at all.

  Suddenly a hand dropped onto her shoulder, and she reeled around to find Lazarus propped in the doorway, a sarong wrapped clumsily around his waist.

  “Go back to bed!” she hissed, seeing how he swayed. “You must rest.”

  “I need fresh air,” he said. “It's like a burial cave in there.” He stepped out onto the walkway beside her. “What were you thinking about so hard?”

  Maryam laughed. “You really want to know?”

  “It's got to be better than lying there choking on my own bad breath.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded, “but please don't catch a chill.” She ducked back into the hut to retrieve his blanket and draped it around him.

  “Thank you Mother Maryam,” he said. “Now to your thoughts.”

  “All right, all right. If you must know, I was thinking about Te Matee Iai—and how the Apostles use their so-called resistance to it as proof they were chosen by the Lord.” She glanced up at him. His face gave nothing away. “Imagine what would happen if the people learnt about the cure. Surely then they'd realise the Apostles had lied?”

  “You think they'd believe it if my father told them it was merely Lucifer tempting them and playing tricks?”

  “But don't you see? If the proof was right there, in front of their eyes, they'd have to believe. And then they could reclaim their lives—be rid of the Apostles once and for all. Set themselves free.” She felt suddenly light and buoyant.

  “And how do you propose to do that? Steal more pills?” He laughed softly. “Ask the Territorials to drop them off?”

  She brushed aside his mocking, intent on plucking out some sense from the bombardment of thoughts inside her head. “No. Not the pills.” They mustn't rely on the Territorials or anybody else. “There'd have to be a way to take the cure itself. The tree. Our climates are almost the same. I'm sure the tree would grow. Why not? With the help of all the good people we've met here—Aanjay and Jo, Charlie and Veramina, and Ruthie of course—there must be a way.”

  She glanced at Lazarus, blushing as she found him looking intently at her, and quickly looked away. What of him? Was it time to put his past behind him, truly to forgive him for his sins? Nothing that went through fire was left unchanged, and he had survived the feverish flames of Te Matee Iai…He'd have to prove himself, though, and in return she would have to equal his efforts—give him a fair chance. But could she do so after everything he'd put her through? She wasn't sure. Perhaps the most she could offer him right now was that she'd wait and see.

  Suddenly it felt as if a fog had lifted from her mind. She raised her chin and placed her feet firmly on the ground. It was all so clear now. Such a relief to know what to do next. The death of Joseph and his wise boat-building father would not be in vain.

  At last she could meet Lazarus's eye without any sense of inferiority or shame.

  “It seems, Brother Lazarus, I have a plan. And I believe that, one way or another, I can make it work.” She sent him a beatific smile and let the words fall calmly off her tongue. “I'm going back.”

  Especial thanks to Mohammad Yasin Hamzaie for sharing his story. Much appreciation to Rose Lawson (my first and most enthusiastic reader) and to Thom Lawson, Brian Laird, Belinda Hager, Nicky Hager, Debbie Hager, and Julia Wells for their careful reading and suggestions. Als
o to Jane Parkin, Jenny Hellen, and the team at Random House NZ; Lou Anders and his team at Pyr; Joe Monti from the Barry Goldblatt Literary Agency for believing in me and making this possible; and last, but by no means least, my love and thanks to all my family and friends who, through their generosity and love, make living in this crazy world worthwhile.

  MANDY HAGER is an award-winning writer and educator based in Wellington, New Zealand. She has a drive to tell stories that matter—direct, powerful stories with something to say. She won the 2010 New Zealand Post Children's Book Award for Young Adult Fiction for The Crossing. Visit her online at www.mandyhager.com, at www.facebook.com/BloodOfTheLambTrilogy, and on Twitter @MandyHager.