The Cured

by Deirdre Gould

  “What?” asked Rickey from his spot underneath the television.

  “Rome just declared war on the rest of the world. He better hope there aren’t more organized groups listening in.”

  “You sure you still want to go there?” asked Rickey.

  Henry stared at him. “You heard him, you sure you don’t want to?”

  The pretty newswoman reappeared, looking somewhat nervous. “We have just a few more announcements for the night, before we run tonight’s movie request. Immune men and women who are unwed and are between the ages of thirty and forty are reminded that they are required to register this month with the DHRS for the new Cupid Service program that began its trial run last week. Residents on the dockside are reminded to boil their water before consumption…”

  Twenty-two

  Henry walked back into the men’s changing room, out of earshot of the television. He didn’t think he wanted to hear any more. He almost tripped over Pam who was sitting on the floor, her back to the lockers.

  “Pam? What’s wrong?” Henry asked. What a stupid question, he realized as he sat down next to her. She shuffled over a little to make room for him.

  “It’s just– all this time, I assumed that my kids and my husband were okay. That they were immune and living somewhere waiting for me. But now that seems ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, if I wasn’t immune, then my kids probably weren’t either, right? That’s how it works. And my husband wouldn’t have left them, even if they were sick.”

  “I’m not sure how it works. But maybe, if your husband was immune, the kids have just as much chance to be immune as sick, I’d think.”

  “But what if they weren’t? What if there isn’t anyone waiting for me in the City? What if I never find out what happened to them?”

  Henry hesitated, then put an arm around her bony shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. It felt odd, foreign, to touch anyone without feeling the overwhelming need to bite. Henry was relieved that he didn’t feel it any more. “Hey, even if they weren’t immune, it doesn’t mean we won’t find them. You heard that governor guy, he said hundreds of people were cured. Maybe they were cured and are waiting for you right now.”

  Pam shook her head. “I hope not.”

  “Why?”

  “I think I’d rather they were dead than that they had to go through what we did.”

  Henry sighed. He was silent for a moment, one arm still around her shoulder, his face turned to the ceiling. He looked back at her. “I hope nobody went through what we did. I hope Phil and his men were utterly unique. Your family wasn’t with you when you arrived at the Lodge, were they? When did you get separated?”

  “I think I got sick early. I only remember one thing on the news– just something about the hospital and police seeing lots of people who had gotten into fights or who had hurt themselves in home accidents. Was there more than that?”

  “Lots more. You must have been one of the first ones.”

  “My kids were on a ski trip with their school a few weeks before winter break. I didn’t notice anything, except that my husband scolded me for being clumsy for a few days, and I kept forgetting to turn things off. I just thought I was tired. One day, my husband went to work as usual. It had snowed a little, overnight, so after he left, I went outside to shovel the walkway. The mailman had left a package by the door, something that wouldn’t fit in the box. It was a present I’d ordered for one of the kids. And when I came outside, the neighbor’s dog was peeing on it. That damn dog. I hated that dog. It marked everything in the neighborhood. And I got really angry. Really angry. I don’t get angry, Henry. Never had a fight with my husband or even my parents, never even raised my voice with my kids. Even when they were going through their tantrum phases. I just don’t like being angry. So I try really hard to stay calm.”

  Henry nodded, because she seemed to be waiting for some response.

  “But I was angry at that dog. And I chased him with the shovel. I just wanted to smash him with it. I’d never hurt an animal or person in my life before. Never, ever wanted to. I never even spoke to the neighbor about her dog’s bad habit. We just shooed him away and figured stuff like that was going to happen. But not that day. I chased that dog all over the neighborhood, waving the shovel and screaming at it. I couldn’t catch it though. Finally I got too tired to chase it anymore. So I turned around. I decided to go to the neighbor’s house and tell her to control her dog. That’s all that I meant to do, I swear on everything sacred, that’s all I intended when I went there. I got to her house and banged on the door. She let me in, of course. Why wouldn’t she? We’d always been friendly. She shut the door and looked at me expectantly. I started to yell about her dog, but all that came out of me was this scream. This endless scream of anger and hate and wanting to hurt.”

  Pam brushed her face with the palms of her hands. She didn’t look at Henry. He looked away from her, feeling vaguely as if he’d caught her doing something private, as if he’d walked in on her in her bedroom, rather than listening to a story she was willingly telling. A story he had lived too.

  “And my neighbor just stared at me, confused for a second. ‘What’s wrong, Pam? Are you hurt? Are you sick?’ she asked, and she tried to touch my shoulder, to guide me to the couch or something. She was saying something about calling my husband or an ambulance when I bit her hand. She yelled and smacked me, but I didn’t let go. Even then, there was some part of me that thought it was a wrong thing to do. But it was as if I’d been craving that exact sensation for– for forever, and finally feeling her skin dimple and split under my teeth. It makes me nauseous to think about now, but then– it was like my worst pregnancy craving tripled. I couldn’t let go. And when she finally forced me off, I just bit her again, in the leg. I just kept biting, all the time she’s struggling to get me off, her skin tearing more and more in my mouth as she struggled. Eventually she was quiet and still. And I– I still kept biting. I should have been caught right there. I’m sure someone on the street must have called the police by then. But that damn dog came running up to the back door and kept barking and barking. Finally, I was so angry, I left my neighbor’s body lying in the hallway and ran to the back door. It had a weak latch, had for years. My husband tried to fix it for her a few times, but the door needed replacing. So I just bashed into it and it opened. And there was the dog. It bolted and I chased it out into the backyard and then into the woods behind. I chased it for a while until I lost it. I wandered around in those woods for a few days I think. I’m not sure how long. The nights were cold, but I didn’t freeze, probably because I was still bundled up from shoveling the walkway. Eventually I stumbled out onto a road. A sheriff saw me after a few hours maybe someone called him to come out, I don’t know. But he could see I was covered in blood. I wasn’t hungry enough to attack him yet, so I don’t think I could have been out there that long. But I was still stumbling and only screamed instead of spoke. I think he thought I was drunk or high. He put me in the back of the cruiser and then put me in his little jail cell. I think things must have gotten worse then, because he was gone more and more. He brought me food a few times, kept talking about bringing the doctor, but it never happened. One morning I woke up and he was standing at the cell door looking at me, with his gun drawn. I scrambled up, hungry now for him, though he’d been giving me food, and he backed up. He raised the gun. ‘We’re supposed to shoot you,’ he said, ‘I’ve been doing it all morning. Dozens of you. You keep attacking people. I don’t want to, I know you’re just sick, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.’ The gun was shaking a little and I could see his eyes getting red. ‘I’m sorry, it’s orders,’ he said, and would have shot me right then, except an angry man came barreling in through the door behind him. ‘He was my son! You shot my boy!’ he was yelling. The sheriff didn’t even try to defend himself. He just stood there and cried. He dropped the gun onto his desk and just cried while the other man beat the living daylights out of hi
m. Didn’t even try to fend him off. But the father must have had something wrong with his heart, or something. He just collapsed after a while. The sheriff said he was going to get help and took the gun and ran out. I never saw him again. But the other guy, he was close enough for me to reach. And he was big. I lived on him a long time. Until Phil and his men raided the police station and found me.”

  “Your family could be just fine Pam. Maybe your husband picked the kids up from the ski trip and took them somewhere safe, or maybe the teachers on the trip did. You can’t give up on them yet. We’ll find them when we get to the City.”

  “Who’s that?” asked Vincent as he wandered in.

  “Pam’s family,” said Henry, “she was telling me how she arrived at Phil’s camp.”

  Vincent sat down on the other side of Pam. “You were both there before me,” he said. Henry pulled his arm back from Pam’s shoulder. She looked over at him.

  “You were the first weren’t you? That’s how you know the girl?” she said.

  Henry closed his eyes and rested the back of his shaved head against the cool metal locker. “Her name is Marnie. And yeah, I was first. It’s my fault that Phil kept us, that Marnie’s parents are dead, and my fault she’s still trapped with him.” He heard Pam shift away from him, but he kept his eyes closed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I knew I was sick, for days before I finally lost it. I did what I could to get Marnie’s family ready. If I’d been paying attention I never would have come out to the Lodge with them. I would have hidden in my apartment until it happened. But I didn’t realize I was infected yet. By the time Phil wandered in after an accident on the road, I knew I was sick. I was actually relieved. Can you imagine? I was relieved that Phil showed up, because I thought he could help them after I got really sick. As much as I loved Dave, he would never have been able to protect Elizabeth and Marnie on his own. They were so useless.” Henry banged his head on the hollow locker for emphasis. He looked over at Vincent. “I dragged Phil inside, gave him first aid, did what I could because I thought he could take my place. I thought he’d return the favor. But if I’d known then– I would have left him outside to freeze. And I wouldn’t regret it. Even though I know it would have been wrong.”

  Vincent sighed and shook his head. “I’m not God, Henry. I’m just a man like you, you don’t have to defend your feelings to me.”

  “I don’t understand. You and this family were there first and they were your friends, but Phil ended up using you as a guard dog and the rest of the family allowed it?” Pam said.

  “Like I said, Marnie’s parents were useless. But so was I. I wanted to leave when I felt myself slipping away. I knew I didn’t have much time left, I don’t know how, I just knew I was getting worse and fast. But I let them persuade me into staying another night, mostly because Phil was still recovering, out of it. He couldn’t protect them, and I convinced myself I still could. But Elizabeth drugged my food and they tied me up and put me in the shed.” A shudder at the memory of the damp plastic worked it’s way up Henry’s skin.

  “Why?”

  “They thought they were protecting me. They thought I’d freeze to death or starve if I left. I was just sick. If they took care of me until it passed, everything would be okay. So they kept me tied up there, in the dark for a long time. I’m not sure how long. Eventually, the food must have run out, and Phil must have recovered, because they stopped feeding me. Until one day, they brought back someone that refused to give Phil something he wanted. And they shoved him in there with me.” Henry closed his eyes as Wyatt’s cries echoed in his head. “After that, I was basically a garbage disposal, chained to a post, just like the rest of you. Every time an infected person wandered by, they were added to Phil’s collection. Some of them had it worse than me. Some of the women– I hope you were just a guard dog Pam.”

  She blushed and looked away, knowing what he meant. “Your friends just allowed this?”

  “Phil kept telling them it was for their protection. But Elizabeth tried to stop it. She went after the Cure when she found out about it. But he killed her. And that kept Dave quiet and obedient until the end. And Marnie- well, she let us go, didn’t she? She never gave in to him.” He crossed his arms over his thin chest. “Not yet anyway. I have to go back to find her. I left her alone with him.”

  “She wanted you to get away. She wanted us all to escape, that’s why she let us go,” said Pam, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “I can’t leave her there. She’s just a little girl. I have to go back.”

  Pam and Vincent exchanged a worried glance, but Henry didn’t notice. “Go with us to the City. We’ll get help. You heard the broadcast, they’ll be happy to help us stop people like Phil. You can’t go back alone, half-starved with nothing to defend yourself and nothing to bargain with.” Vincent watched him for a long moment until Henry nodded his agreement.

  Henry ended up passing out in the center of the blue felt-like carpet of the men’s locker room. Someone came along later and covered him with a sleeping bag, and then the others wandered in eventually, when Rickey could bear to silence the television, and slumped down beside him. The warm jumble of bodies around him was foreign after all the years alone in the yard, and it made him restless even in his sleep. Henry dreamed of the night they had escaped, the last night he’d seen Marnie.

  It was midwinter, the snow outside the leaky thatched shelter a crunching shell dirty with soot and muck from the Infected that trod in it. A bonfire was all that kept them from freezing to death. Henry’s clothes were little more than rags, a worn second skin of mud and dried gore with bits of cloth stuck in by mistake. He hadn’t been fed in days and he howled and roared any time someone passed too close to the fence or came into the pen to break the ice off of the water trough, their smell throwing him into a frenzy. That night, Henry was stretched as far as his chain allowed, straining toward the fire, choking himself with his collar in a futile attempt to get warm. At last his eyes caught something moving past the flames. It was Marnie, sitting inside the pen, watching him. Henry growled and tried to lunge farther. Marnie stood up. Not a little girl any more. Thirteen, skinny and quick, far more clever than her parents, more even than Henry had been. She survived first because her mother protected her from the cruel caprice of Phil and his men. Later, after Elizabeth had gone, she was old enough to learn how to stay out of the way. She survived on the edges of the camp, unnoticed by anyone but her father. She watched Henry lunging at her, standing still, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She waited until Henry slipped in the mud at his feet and fell face down, his arms still stretched toward her trying to grab. Then she leapt onto his back, holding his head still with one arm. Henry was weak, mostly starved and very slow. She was younger, faster and better fed. It wasn’t hard to hold him. He lay on his stomach, one ear in the mud, still snapping his teeth at her, though she was well out of reach.

  She leaned over him, her small white face just an inch or two from his cheek. “They got Dad today, Henry,” she said softly. She was close enough that he could hear her even over the snuffle and growl that came from him. “There’s no more food. Not for miles. Dad was supposed to do a supply run, but he came back empty. There’s nothing left. Phil threw him into the front pen. I should be grateful that Dad was already dead when he got thrown in.” Warm water trickled down Henry’s cheek and evaporated from his skin. Marnie was crying. “He threw one of the women he uses– one of the Infected he pulled all the teeth from, he threw her into the pen alive at the same time. Said he was going to start feeding the deadweight to his guard dogs. That means people like me, Henry. The older people, the sick people. The babies. I can’t let it happen. You’re all I have left Henry. But I have to let you go. I can’t let this happen any more, the fragile people are all inside, safely tucked away. Phil’s men are drunk. They split Dad’s supplies that he had left and had a party. You’re the last one to free. I wanted to give you a fighting chance. Some of them mu
st have escaped the front pen by now and I let the others from here out earlier, without any noise. I didn’t want you to get shot. Find the Cure Henry. I wish I could take better care of you. Remember your promise. I’m sorry I have to use you like this. Don’t leave any of them alive.”

  Henry heard the chain clank against the wooden post as it fell away from his neck. The pressure on his back was lifted and he sprang up, but Marnie was already gone, disappearing over the back of the wooden fence. Henry wasted no time looking for her, but ran for where the smell of food was strongest. The rest of the night was heat and blood as the Infected chased their old masters through the thick woods and at last collapsed near their bodies after eating their fill. But Henry didn’t dream that part. He woke up with Marnie’s soft voice in his ear, “Remember your promise.”

  He was surrounded by the others, packed too closely to slip away. Where would he go anyway? Henry realized he only had a vague idea of where the camp was. His escape had been a frenzied blur of biting and running through winter woods. Henry lay back down. There was no knowing if Marnie was even still there. Maybe she’d led the people she was protecting somewhere safer. Maybe Phil had caught her. Maybe she was dead. Was he really going to spend weeks or months on a futile search for someone who had most likely been shot or starved to death months ago? What did she really expect him to do? What did he really expect himself to do? Henry closed his eyes. He had tried to leave when he knew he was sick. He’d tried to protect them. He didn’t owe them anything. He was ill. Not in control. Even the priest had said that.

  But then there was Phil. Henry had tried to tell himself that even without Phil there, Dave and Elizabeth didn’t have what was necessary to survive. In his heart Henry wondered though. If they’d kept quiet, if they’d never picked Henry up from his apartment, they might have made it until a bigger group of people picked them up. It was Henry that saved Phil. It was Henry that brought him into the house and didn’t question his “accident” or anything else for that matter. And it was because of Henry that Phil got the idea to use the Infected around him to terrorize his neighbors, his enemies, and his own camp members. It was because of Henry that Elizabeth went for the Cure and died. And he had promised her he would take care of Marnie. Somewhere, in the deep, quiet part of his mind, the part that was still him even at his worst, the part that remembered what he’d seen and done, that part had promised Elizabeth that he wouldn’t leave Marnie to Phil and his men. It was no use debating with himself. Henry already knew he would spend the rest of this borrowed lifetime trying to find her or what happened to her, this little girl who had grown into a stranger long before she released him. It had been decided years ago. And when he found Phil… the better part of him hoped Phil was already dead. Henry was secretly afraid of what his own soul was capable of doing. He drifted off again, chasing the vague memory of the roads to the Lodge.