by JJ Pike
“Might they have died of old age?”
“I don’t believe so. I can discuss the age markers with you, should you wish it.”
“No. Move on. Dead rats, no injuries, no water in the lungs. I am following. Cause of death, poisoning, you say? By what?”
“Unknown, though we have our suspicions. Here, we have a fully dissected rat. The belly which has been transected, as you see, is riddled with what appear to be cuts. If it were a single rat thus afflicted, we’d think nothing of it. But, of our sample set, we have at least three hundred rats that have died without either drowning or being killed by blunt force.”
“And they all have these lesions on their internal organs?”
“We’re still dissecting them to find out, but that is what we’re seeing, yes.”
“Have you graphed where the rats were found?”
“I considered that, Professor, but as so many fled their homes, I decided it would be misleading.”
“It might still yield data. No, might have yielded data. Next time we collect samples, be sure to mark where they are collected.”
Dr. Patterson’s eyebrows did that thing that people’s eyebrows did when they were surprised. Why he couldn’t simply say what was on his mind was a mystery. They were in the lab. The only thing that mattered was the truth. There were no “feelings” to be hurt. Not hers, certainly. The facts were glittering and perfect and complete. Even as she stood over a dissected rat and examined its entrails, she was made content by the fact that she was back in a place that did not penalize her, nor any other person living, for speaking the plain truth. How to tell this man that he might liberate himself from societies’ strictures and say whatever needed to be said in this place, with no threat of shaming or bullying or correction. Sparring over the facts, certainly, but nothing more.
“I believe all trips to Manhattan have been halted,” said Fran.
“Believe?”
“The General has ordered it. He’s waiting on your briefing. Everyone’s waiting on your briefing.”
Christine turned to Dr. Patterson. “Have any of the rats that died from…what was your phrase… ‘mechanical’ causes been dissected?”
“No.”
“What about the ones that drowned?”
“Negative.”
“How many techs do you have at your disposal?”
“Five.”
Five was an abysmal number. “Task one of your techs with dissecting a random sampling of the rats in Bin numbers one and two. Look to the stomachs and lungs. I want to see if they have sustained the same injuries as the rats in Bin number three.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’ll let you know when I come to a conclusion. I think we’re close, but I believe there are cadavers for me to inspect?” She set off at a fast clip. “Come on. We don’t have a minute to lose.”
Fran led the Professor behind a wall of curtains. They’d made sure the human body parts weren’t visible from the main room. A good decision, given how squeamish most people were about the human body after death, but immaterial now, given the picture that was forming in her mind.
“Professor Baxter, this is Professor Wirante, who’ll debrief you on his findings.”
“Let’s cut to the chase Professor Wirante. Do the cadavers have burn marks or cuts that appear to have been ‘eaten’ into the skin?”
“Well…” The Professor looked around the room. “Some of them do…”
Christine strode from the room. They needed to quarantine the place. Immediately.
“Professor Baxter?” It was Dr. Patterson. He had his hands in the air and was backing away from his bins of rats.
“Not now, Dr. Patterson. I must speak to the general. We need to quarantine the building.”
“It’s the rat pouches, Professor. They’re melting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Avalond was by no means the highest skyscraper in Manhattan, but it was tall enough to tower over its neighbors, giving Barb a panoramic view of the disaster even as she heaved Pete from the stairwell and onto the roof. Things had deteriorated in the short time she’d been gone. The fires burned brighter and higher, their smoke trails dominating the skyline, which was just as well because the iconic skyline was unrecognizable. So many landmarks had collapsed. The Chrysler Building, one of her all-time favorite architectural marvels, was listing to one side. It was a travesty that the Art Deco building could have sustained that much damage. She didn’t allow herself to think about the human toll. That was beyond the capacity of her heart. She had to think locally, not globally. She could only effect small changes, get Alice and Bill and Pete onto the chopper. She closed her eyes and steeled herself for the inevitable: she was going to have to let Neal take baby Charlotte if there wasn’t enough room for another adult.
“Neal’s not going to let you get on the chopper,” said Deirdre. She didn’t move from her spot next to Mr. Peterson, but she wasn’t far from her rifle. Barb didn’t believe Deirdre would take up arms against her, but she was pretty vehement about how many people were going to be allowed onto the helicopter. She kept talking while she and Alice tried to get Pete comfortable. “He was clear about that, Barb. You can go, but there’s no room for your friends. Sorry. Seriously, sorry, but it’s a no-go.”
Barb and Alice were drenched in sweat. Getting Pete up to the roof had been an ordeal. They had to keep his neck relatively straight so the copper pipe didn’t pierce his windpipe.
“He won’t let me down,” said Barb. “I know his heart.”
“The wind is changing,” said Alice. “He’d best get here quickly because once that smoke comes this way, we’re not going to have any visibility.”
Barb was already by the door to the stairs. “Let’s get Bill.”
The two women took the stairs as fast as they could. They didn’t speak, though there was much to say. Barb wanted to tell Alice she hadn’t lied, because she hadn’t. She answered to a higher power. He would never let her down. She’d been saved from the subway collapse so she could help Alice escape and revived Bill so they could be together. She didn’t know what their work might be in the world, but His plan would make itself known in time.
She ached to stop and check on Charlotte, but if there was only going to be one helicopter ride off the roof, she needed all the sick people ready to roll. That meant collecting Bill first, then going back for Charlotte. She was safe back in her cot, KC guarding her, Mouse trotting around the apartment looking for food that wasn’t there.
When they reached the parking lot, Bill was right where they’d left him.
“Can we give him more medication?” Alice was crying. Seeing someone you loved in pain was worse than being in pain yourself. Barb knew that. “Those stairs are so jarring. His arm has to be killing him.” She meant the stub where his hand used to be, but Barb didn’t say that out loud.
Barb had no problem parting with more pain meds. Her only concern was that they not overdose the man.
The walkie-talkie crackled. Barb pounced on it, grinning. Neal was coming through for her. Good people do good things, if only you’ll let them. “Barb here.”
“Barb, we’re touching down. Deirdre tells me you have your people up here.”
“Please, Neal. When you see them, you won’t be able to say no.”
“You’re killing me, Barbara. The best I can do is guide you out of the city. Most of the roads are impassible, but if you listen carefully and do as I say, I can get you out of there.”
“Don’t leave us, Neal. These are my friends. They need care. Urgent care. I have two very sick people.” She locked eyes with Alice. She’d agree that the men had to go on ahead if there was only going to be room for two more passengers, surely.
“I’ll take the one who’s up here, Barb, but when I take off, I’m gone.” Neal had stuck to his guns. She hadn’t expected that. She’d thought she would be able to soften his heart. It wasn’t over. He hadn’t seen Pete. When he saw how much t
hey’d done to save this one soul, he’d wait. He’d shown it in all his actions. He’d stayed in the Avalond when everyone else had fled, leaving the most vulnerable to fend for themselves.
“Give us twenty minutes.”
“No can do.”
“Fifteen?”
“I will wait for ten minutes, Barbara. That’s it. If your friend is here, I’ll take him, but if not, we’re going to be heading out of the smoke.”
Barb stashed the walkie-talkie in her back pocket. “You take Bill’s arms and I’ll take his legs.”
They were exhausted. They had to stop many times. When they reached Charlotte’s floor, Barb made a bold decision. She was going to do all she could to convince Deirdre to take Charlotte. She’d thought it through. She could do it.
“Wait here. I’ll be two seconds. Three, max.”
Alice shouted for her to come back, but she blocked out all pleas and thundered to Charlotte’s apartment. KC was there, faithfully guarding the child. She tousled the dog’s head. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I’ll be back. Turns out I have to stay with you.”
When she got back into the stairwell, Charlotte firmly attached to her chest, Alice and Bill had moved. Not far, as it turned out. Alice had dragged him up half a flight of stairs on her own. Both of them were crying now. Him from the pain, her from the heartbreak. He was her world, Barb knew that. She couldn’t let her friend down.
“Never give up. It’s not done yet.”
The women fought their way to the top of the building. Barb knew where her strength came from. She had to assume Alice believed, just as she did, because no human could have pulled off the rescue they’d pulled off without divine intervention.
Neal was at the door, as she had always known he would be. She smiled at her friend. War had not broken him, nor the loss of his legs. He’d refused to give up on Suze, though it seemed her family had. Neither had he left Charles the billionaire in his penthouse coffin. He was right about that. The buildings of Manhattan were going to be boxes for the dead. The city was on fire. Their only option now was to do what Neal advised and drive for their lives.
They loaded Pete into the chopper first. Maggie-loo was frantic, running in circles and barking. Neal made Barb take her back to the stairwell, so they could work unimpeded. Once Pete was strapped in, they worked on Bill. Deirdre and Mr. Peterson took their seats. Barb thanked Neal over and over and over again. “Look how many souls you saved. Look at the good work you’ve done. Your reward will be great.”
“My reward will be you doing exactly what I tell you to do and surviving this madness.”
Alice kissed Bill on the only patch of flesh that wasn’t flayed.
Deirdre waved Barb over. “Give her to me, if you’re going to.”
Barb felt the tears rise. Handing Charlotte over was the only choice, but her heart was in pieces all over again. She undid the straps that held the glorious bundle of love close to her, kissing her little head just as she had kissed Julia’s. “I’ll come for you, little one. I won’t let you down.”
Deirdre took Charlotte, gently, cradling her in her lap. “What in the world…?”
Had she been cut? Did Pete’s infection spread to her? Had Barb stretched herself too far? Was she going to be tested beyond endurance?
“Take her,” said Deirdre.
“I don’t understand,” said Barb.
Alice stepped up and took Charlotte from Deirdre’s outstretched arms. “Oh.” She turned to Barb. “She can stay with us, Barb.”
Barb shrieked. What were they thinking? Of anyone who should get off Manhattan, it was Charlotte. She’d lost her mother and lain in her own filth for three days.
Alice held Charlotte while Neal gave her directions. Barb tried to grab the baby, but Alice held her away. “It’s best you don’t.”
Neal shook his head. “Sorry, Barb. We’ll catch you upstate someplace. Stay safe.” He was in the chopper, the blades thwapping, all those faces looking down at her, so sad, so distant, so uncomprehending. She screamed at Alice, who led her to the stairwell.
Maggie-loo was waiting for them, whimpering, her tail down.
“Shall we sit?” said Alice.
The door clanged shut behind them.
“Why didn’t Deirdre take her? I don’t understand.” Barb knew the hysteria had taken over. She was swamped with panic and pain.
“Sit,” said Alice.
Once the women were both on the step, Alice unwound Charlotte’s wrap and lay her on Barb’s knee. “She’s dead, Barb.”
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” They were lying to her. This couldn’t happen. It was impossible the first time. It was unthinkable a second. “It’s not true.”
Alice stroked her back. “She’s been dead for a while.”
“I don’t believe you. Look at her perfect little face. That nose. That mouth. She’s an angel.”
Alice wrapped Barb in her arms and rocked her. “She’s with the angels, dear one. She’s safe in His arms.”
All Barb could think was “how” and “why.” Why, why, why, why, why? They were the only words that would form in her mouth. Alice was talking about the signs of death, but it didn’t compute. Her Charlotte had been alive. She’d washed her, changed her, fed her, rocked her, told her what the world would be like for them. The more Alice talked, the colder Charlotte got until, finally, even the memory of Charlotte in her hands when she washed her over the sink was stone cold.
When the words finally came they weren’t a surprise. Part of her had to have known that Charlotte was too good to be true. “I want to bury her. A proper burial. I don’t want to leave her anywhere.”
“We can do that,” said Alice. “Shall we take her with us? Bury her somewhere special?”
“Yes. I want her near to me. Always.”
“Do you need her to be in consecrated ground?”
“You’re a Catholic?” Barb knew something of the Catholics, though why all of God’s Earth was not consecrated to His glory made no sense.
Alice nodded.
“I only need her to be buried where I can visit her. We can bless the place ourselves.”
Alice grasped Barb’s hand in hers. “This is going to be hard to talk about, my dear. Are you sure you want to do it, or would you rather I took care of the details for you?”
She could be strong. For Charlotte, she could bear anything.
“You said the billionaire still had power in his place?”
Barb nodded.
“We’re going to get ice and a cooler.”
Dear God. Was she strong enough for that? Could she let her baby be packed in ice? How else would she get her to safety? She couldn’t leave her in this terrible place. She had lived her life believing in His grace, but now she found herself wondering if His wrath might not be visited upon the Earth for her sins. Manhattan was wrecked beyond recognition. Neal said there was only one way out. They had to go now, Alice said. There was no time to waste.
Charles’ apartment was still cool, still bizarre. Alice found an ice chest in the walk-in pantry without too much bother, but she hesitated to fill it.
“What’s the matter?” said Barb. She held Charlotte close, even though the phantasm of her breath and the smell of her sweet hair had dissipated along with the knowledge that she’d been dead since she found her.
“I don’t want to take more plastic. The less we have, the further we’ll go.” She paused.
Barb waited. She knew how hard it was when the words would not come.
“There’s a compound already in the vehicle that eats plastic. We don’t want plastic on us or near us. Help me find something metal or glass.”
Charles had an enormous glass bowl, full of hand-blown glass flowers and fruit, in the middle of the dining room table. They began unloading the ornamental fruit, but the bowl was too fragile. It wasn’t going to be suitable for transporting a dead baby.
They finally settled on a copper coal scuttle. It was beautiful in its simplicity. Alice fi
lled it half-way with ice and waited while Barb lay Charlotte inside the curving lip of the conveyance.
“Say your goodbyes for now,” said Alice. “Then turn your head.”
“Cover her face,” said Barb. “I don’t want her to get cold.” She was already as cold as the grave, but it still pained her to think of Charlotte’s skin being touched by the ice.
Alice was tender as she covered Charlotte. When the scuttle was full, she covered the top with a woven throw from the back of one of the billionaire’s chairs. “You carry her. It’s an act of homage.”
They took the stairs slowly, pausing to collect the dogs. KC nudged the scuttle. She’d known all along that Charlotte wasn’t there. She’d been trying to tell Barb, but Barb had no desire to understand that another baby had been taken from the world.