Ophelia Immune_A Novel

by Beth Mattson

  While I worried about what Jim would say about pills, shots, and sprays of deadly Cure, Melanie in the Morning stayed on the air all afternoon, entertaining us with recipes for canned beans and Trout casseroles, jokes about the accents of Southerners who lived in boat houses, and advertisements for three different Propane brands. Every hour on the hour, she devoted a segment to announcing our Rally and discussing it with Special Guests. I ripped orange shirt after orange shirt to make more and more armbands as Melanie declared that she was wearing one.

  She hosted a debate between a Ranger from the local Turington precinct and a Nurse from the private girls’ Hospital. The Ranger opened by saying that of course the Auctions were illegal, but that there was no way to decide who a child really belonged to. Also, that it was disrespectful to Rangers to hold our Rally for Girls on Ranger’s Day. He asked if we were saying that all Rangers were Dirtbags? Kite scoffed yes from the safety of the work room. I nodded emphatically. The girls joined in. I tried to giggle with them, but my palms were sweaty with worry about the Cure. I should go see Jim soon. I'd helped with the armbands enough.

  The Nurse on the radio cleared her throat and spoke up with Melanie's encouragement. Actually, she noted, many Citizens are concerned about the corruption that is rampant in the Ranger Force. The honorable Rangers should be delighted to be associated with such a noble cause, to prove that there is no Ranger Danger. Kite raised her fist in the air and held it there. Every little girl mimicked her.

  When a food expert from one of the local canneries declared us an Orange Menace, the entire Safe House reverberated with boos and chants of, “Orange” and “Menace.” The Cannist continued to spout that not even the experts had ever known enough about fish to protect us and that we shouldn’t start listening to them now. He advised that nobody become too dependent on the possibly dangerous fish. He reminded everyone that fishing was illegal and that trusting the tactics of a Rogue Group with incendiary Flyers was always a bad idea. He laughed and said that one of the surest ways to keep daughters safe was to keep them away from the River – better to stick with the canned goods.

  One of the girls launched a jar of canned peas out of a window in protest, where it crumpled on the cement entryway. Several of her friends made to follow her example with the pineapple, carrots and beans. I stepped in front of them, shaking my head and reminding them not to waste any food, and that if they wanted to throw any of their food away, there were plenty of people out in the streets who would be happy to have it. They murmured their apologies and went back to painting a large banner for the Rally.

  I tried to lecture them about the importance of sharing and preserving food, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but Jim and the Clinic and the Cure. The Cure. I was about to announce to Kite that I was leaving to go get us more information when Bernice and Cherry returned from distributing the last of the Flyers, their arms full of sturdy sticks and reeds.

  “We want to have more than one fishing pole. We can make fishing poles and show everybody that we know how to fish,” said Bernice.

  I considered their proposal while Kite ignored them to slam her fist against a stuck press gear. The sticks that they had gathered were flexible and strong. Cherry had found a box of discarded, misshapen industrial staples that they could use for hooks, and Bernice devised how to use empty thread spools as reels with pencil handles. Because the spools were empty of thread, and because the girls’ attempts at tying shoe laces together wasn’t going to work, they had no string for fishing line. I liked their desire to demonstrate their skills and health to the public, that they could take care of things. I knew where I could get them some thread. And have maybe my most important meeting of the day.

  “I'm going to the Clinic,” I announced, “It’s time. We need the string, and I can find out more about the Cure. I can't put it off any longer.”

  “You should bash his head in and take every supply they have,” Kite scowled, “Instead of leaving me with the brats while you were off visiting.”

  I had no time left to argue with her about the importance of good information and proper babysitting. The girls could mostly watch themselves. Jim worked days, not nights. The afternoon was almost over and if I wanted to catch him and his supplies before he left, I would have to run. Ask him how the Doctors were going to inject zombies with the Cure. Just walk around offering syringes to embarrassed relatives who barely admitted that they were keeping beasts in their closets? Would Rangers have syringes full of Cure? Would they stick us with the needles if they saw us? How many would there be? What kind of precautions should Kite, Juliet and I take to avoid being Cured? They wouldn’t put it in the water, like the first poison, would they? Surely not. He had said he hadn’t been in favor of the first one.

  I sprinted down the stairs and through the warehouse. I ran through the alleyways of multicolored tables and counters that flapped at me with their papered wings. Our pink and orange Flyers for our Ranger’s Day rally were everywhere.

  I galloped past Squatters eating their early suppers. Their radios were abuzz with our cause. I jogged past Melanie covering the stories of parents who had sold their girls and hoped to find them again someday, maybe tomorrow at the Rally. Ranger Ron, of The Family Files, reported on the lives of girls who had been sold but enjoyed being the heads of their new families. Rangers and Businessmen pleaded with listeners to realize that the Orange Menace was promoting the opposite of what was good for girls who wanted to fit into society. Doctors and Scientists reminded everybody to eat only healthy-looking meat of any kind and to cook all food thoroughly.

  The Squatters shouted that I was kicking dust into their Sunfish Omelets. I shouted that I was sorry, but an airplane flew overhead and drowned me out. I squinted up at it. I hadn’t seen one of those in ages. Little Kids stopped in the streets and stared up at it too. They clapped. I hooted with them but kept running. Everybody was out celebrating and getting ready, but I needed more string for fishing poles and to know what to do when the Cure was released the next day. What would the pills or gas cans would look like, so that some of us could avoid it. They wouldn't put it in the water, would they? Damn, I had waited so long to find out.

  I rang the Clinic’s delivery bell.

  Jim stuck his nose out the door. He opened it wide, his face full of stress.

  “Ophelia, thank God! Come in here.”

  I peered nervously at the entrance.

  “This is the Safest place you can be,” he urged me, “How are you? Is everything ok? I’m glad you came.”

  “I’m fine. I just need some string to make about thirty fishing poles. For the Rally tomorrow. And to ask you some questions about the Cure. What will the pills or syringes look like? Who will have them? It won't be in the water, will it?”

  “In the water, no? There’s no time. You need to get in here. We’re spraying the Cure early – Tonight! Now! – to have it finished before the Rally, so that Ranger’s Day will be Safe for barbeques. I wondered if you were involved with the fish and the Rally. Good for you. Come in here!”

  “Oh, you’re spraying it later tonight from the airplanes? There haven’t been any announcements yet.”

  “Like I said, we’re spraying it before Ranger’s Day, and coating the city in chemicals isn’t really the kind of thing you announce until it is a success. There are some risks, including to you especially, Ophelia. Get in here right now, where it's Safe! The spray planes are already in the air!”

  I reached for the ball of twine on the medical cart near the door, “I’m just going to run out and deliver this string, and get the other zombies that I need to save. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You don’t have time!”

  Jim raised a huge fire extinguisher up over his head and hit me in the face. My head spun. A swarm of cockroaches swirled inside of my head. I lay down on the floor. I could feel myself being dragged across the threshold. I heard a heavy door cli
ck shut behind me.

  The Cure

  I woke up alone in a cold room with glaring aluminum lab tables and glass tubes snaking from beaker to beaker. I crawled to a sink and pulled myself up with my open mouth under the tap to drink down the clear water that would replace the thick goo seeping from the long gash on my forehead. Jim had hit me. In the face.

  I braced myself against the only door in sight.

  “Jim! JIM! Jiiimmmmmmmm!”

  I screamed at the heavy, locked barrier.

  It was solidly constructed, double-layered titanium and steel, with buttons and a speakerphone next to it. I spat on the controls. Stupid of me to have ever have come back to the Clinic. The stupid Assistant had tricked me again, with his talk of Family and medicine. How could I have forgotten, forgotten that I needed to take care of everyone? I needed to take care of the girls from the Buyers, the Squatters from starvation, Humans from zombies, Kite and Juliet from the Cure, and myself from Jim. Jim's Cure that would kill us all, take care of us in ways I hadn’t. I had failed again. Failed to remember my duties. After teaching the girls to take care of themselves, I hadn't taken care of my Family. Again! I needed to escape to save Juliet and Kite. Or stop the airplanes.

  Half of the lab’s front wall was glass, so I picked up the heavy fire extinguisher that Jim had left behind, with a large splotch of blood from my head on one end. I thrust it at the large window. It thudded dully. I hit it again and again until my wrists both splintered and crooked. The glass didn’t even crack.

  The delivery bell rang.

  I stood at the ready. I watched Jim walk calmly around the corner, swishing steadfastly in his lab coat. He didn’t look at me while he opened the door to the outside world. It was Kite. Kite had rung the bell! Bless her, she would clobber him immediately and get me out.

  “Ha. I knew she wouldn’t just clobber you and take what we needed. Is She here? You didn’t Cure her, did you?” she asked Jim impatiently, fingering her shiny sickle.

  He stepped aside so that she could see me.

  “Oh, hey,” she stepped in and spoke to me, “Can you grab some cotton balls while you are in there? We don’t want to use up all of our paper as fire starter for the cooking barrels.”

  “Open my door, ” I stared at her, burning the reality of my imprisonment into her eyes.

  She tugged on the handle. It didn’t budge.

  “What the hell? Did you lock her in here? What is your problem, Ass-Istant?”

  Jim dodged a blow from her elbow. He stepped out of her reach quickly, holding up a syringe in self-defense. She swore at him and took another swipe.

  “I don’t have the keys. There are no keys. She’s locked in there until the Cure has dissipated. It’s a hydraulic safety room, connected to the air gauges outside. Nothing can get in or out of there now until the air is clear. There’s another one down the hall. Crawl in there if you want to be Safe. Shut the door behind you and it won’t open until the spraying is done. It’s up to you.”

  He turned on his heel and clicked away. Stunned, she let him go. I screamed at him, but he didn’t stop. I pounded on the glass until she looked at me.

  “Get me out! Get me out of here!” I wailed.

  Kite fiddled with the lock for a moment.

  “Looks like your Ass-Istant locked you in there real good and tight. I hope we can get you out for the Rally tomorrow. I wonder what else he’ll do to you before he lets you out. Do you think there's some string and cotton balls around here I can steal?”

  “Please, please get me out of here now. After you get me out you can go crawl into that other room. I will go get Juliet and come back. We will all be Safe.”

  “One, this door isn’t opening. Two, forget about your stupid Pet. Three, I’m not locking myself into any room that I can’t open.”

  “You have to. The Cure! It will kill you! You said it's going to be horrible and it is! Get me out of here. And then go lock yourself in. Let me worry about Juliet. Please.”

  “I can’t. You’re stuck. There’s nothing I can do.”

  I started to pant. Another plain zoomed overhead. We heard it.

  “Please, go get Juliet. Run. Hurry back. Then lock both of you in the other room. Please!”

  “I’m not locking myself anywhere, and all you can think about is your Pet?”

  “She’s not my Pet. She’s my Sister. Please! Please! The Cure! Family!”

  “I tell you now, the Cure won’t even work. It’s just another lame Scientist’s scheme. She’s not your Sister anymore, and you know it.”

  “Yes, yes she is. We are Family. I am all she has!”

  “More like she’s all you have.”

  She left through the Clinic’s door and it didn’t open again. She left me there. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back. I was locked in.

  I scratched my nails down the unyielding glass.

  “Please, please, please. Please, Jim!”

  I banged on the glass and the door and the exam table with my fists. I threw the exam table at the window.

  The delivery bell rang again. Kite had returned! Jim tap tap tapped his infuriating leather shoes down the hall and reopened the door to let her in. A woman dressed all in brown handed him a cardboard box. He signed for it. She left.

  Jim stepped up to my glass, clipboard in hand.

  “I am sorry that your Friend left.”

  “She was Family. Please don’t do this. Let me out. Please let me out,” I begged.

  “I can’t. I really can’t. It operates on a clean-air gauge. And even if I could let you out, I wouldn't. I don't want you to die. I’m sorry.”

  He hung his head lower and walked away, tending to his packages, oblivious to my screaming and wailing.

  I bawled my throat raw. I shrieked. I sobbed for my Little Sister, for Kite and for the Safe House that might get poisoned if the Scientists had calculated the toxins badly. Pills or needles would have been one thing, but airplanes? As bad as water.

  My lungs started to poke their way out of my mouth, spongy tissue clashing with my teeth. I urged them back down with my fingertips. I rasped over and over again. I thumped my head against the window. I fell to the ground begging and scratching at my own arms.

  “Please no. Kite. Juliet. Swan. Immogen. Hector. Mom. Dad. Girls. Please no. Please no.”

  I rocked myself on the cold floor. I jabbed my spine on the wall to keep myself awake. There was nothing, no more sounds for hours.

  Finally, a radio report exploded across the loudspeakers, blaring. I covered my ears, clamored to pull them off, to shut out the noise. People down the hall cheered. I glared at the speaker, willing it to mute and let me out.

  “What a great day for our nation, citizens! We have prevailed. Overnight, the Association of Biological Scientists flew airplanes over the city, our fair Turington, spraying zombicide through the air. It fell lightly upon us, not noticeable to anyone, except for the beautiful aerial show. The zombicide destroyed every single zombie that it touched. Fully. All of them – the hidden ones, the locked away ones, in all of the abandoned buildings, in all of the alleyways and ruins. The ghouls stumbling down our streets have finally fallen truly dead in their tracks. The Virus has been killed in their systems and we are ready to reclaim our streets on this, our proud, our first truly free Ranger’s Day. Let us now make our society Safe for little girls and all those who are Starving. Please come to the Rally. Congratulations to the Scientists and to us all.”

  I cursed Melanie. I rocked myself harder to block out the announcements. I held my head between my hands. Why hadn’t Kite gone to get Juliet? She could have saved them both. I wished that I had died like they probably had. They had probably died. They had probably not found a Safe place, each of them alone and gasping. I thumped my body harder against the wall. Why wasn't I out there with them? I looked around for something to slam through my skull.

  There was a slight hiss. The door rattled in its frame.

  “The air is clear.”
<
br />   It was Jim.

  I lifted my chin and stared at him through the glass. I couldn’t see him clearly through my swollen eyes. He held a clipboard and a gauge, knobs and antennae. He clicked his electronics off. He opened my door and crouched on the floor with me. He forced a beaker full of water down my bruised throat. With his full length lab coat and pale blue gloves, he held me. He hugged me tightly. He kissed my hair, just once, and whispered to me.

  “I am sorry. I am glad that you are alive, but I am sorry.”

  I reached for the door. I needed to be outside. I kicked the exit door open and burst forth to search for Kite and Juliet. Maybe they had found a Safe place. But they were there. Right in front of me. Dead.

  Kite and Juliet were curled side by side on the pavement, Juliet tucked under one of Kite’s arms, the other stretching for the delivery bell.

  I fell onto them. I sobbed. I sobbed until I had no water left in my body. And then I cried dryly, rattling and shaking. I held them together tightly. Kite had gone to get Juliet. She had cared. She had been my Family. Both of them. My Family was dead. They were gone, but they were so close. How could I have not protected them from the Cure? How had I not known when Ranger's Day was? I had killed all of my Loved Ones. I hadn’t taken care of anyone.

  “I am sorry. I am so sorry,” Jim knelt next to me, with another beaker of water, “I had hoped that you would all come sooner. I looked for you but didn’t know how to find you.”

  I nodded, barely able to see through the crystallized salt in my eyes. I had killed them. I pointed to Juliet, “She was my Family.” I pointed to Kite, “She was my Family.” I paused and sobbed. “My Family really is Nothing now, because the Cure won’t ever make us Human.”