“Why didn’t you kill him? I only waited this long because I thought you were going to.” she said.
Henry felt tears start rolling down his face. “It wouldn’t change anything. I thought it would. I was wrong. He told me you were dead. I wanted to come back and find you, he said you died, he killed you. So I was going to kill him. But you’d still be dead. And I’d still be here and nothing would have changed but me.”
The girl stood up and Henry ached to see how baggy her father’s old clothes sat on her small frame. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Marnie, don’t you recognize me? It’s Henry. I know I’m bloody and my hair is cut, but it’s me, all the same. I came back, like I promised your mom I would. Like I promised you. I came back to take care of you, because you took care of me.”
Marnie shook her head and moved around behind the post. She unclipped the collar from the chain and took it off his neck. “No Henry is dead. I sent him away with the others. He starved or got shot or fell in a well.”
Henry shook his head. “No, we made it. We have friends, I’ll take you–” He felt something cold snake between the skin of his wrists and the rope.
“No, I don’t go with strangers. Not men anyway. And don’t follow me, or you’ll get what he got.” She finished cutting through the rope and the belt and kicked Phil’s body.
“Marnie, wait– can you drive a truck?”
“If you were Henry you’d know I was too young when everything happened.”
Henry held out a hand toward her to stop her and she flinched. “That’s okay,” he said quickly, “There’s a pile of leaves near the truck on the road. A little pile in the ditch. There’s a dusty red chili pepper sitting on top. Don’t you remember hanging those party lights with me? You said the chili peppers were your favorite.”
Marnie frowned. “Why would you come back here for me? You aren’t my father. Henry barely knew me. He was just a family friend. He wouldn’t come back to this terrible place for me.”
“I would. I did. You’re the only person I know from Before. You’re all that’s left. Come with me.”
The knife glittered a wild gold, reflecting the fire as she pointed it at him. “I told you. I don’t go anywhere with strange men.”
“I understand. I won’t force you to go. Just find the keys. You have to look really close, Marnie or you’ll miss it. If you pick up the chili pepper you’ll find the keys. In the truck is a bag. It’s got food, lots of food,” he glanced at her bony arms and legs again, “if you won’t come with me, just take it. There’s a map inside too, a map to a farmhouse. With friends. Lots of friends and lots of food. You’d never have to be hungry again–”
“What do I have to give you?” Marnie asked in a low voice.
“Give me? Nothing. I came back to help you Marnie. Won’t you come with me?”
Marnie shook her head.
“Okay, okay, that’s all right. Just take the bag. And if you want to, you can come to the farm when you’re ready. We’ll be there. The doors will be open whenever you want.”
“You better not follow me,” she said.
Henry shook his head. “I just want to help,” he croaked.
Marnie looked toward the road, it was masked in smoke now, the lodge becoming engulfed. “I’m glad you burned this place down. I was too scared to do it,” she said, and then tensed. “There’s someone coming, a man.”
Henry took a few stumbling steps past her and pushed her gently behind him, trying to look larger than he felt. He could see a figure running toward them now. He recognized the silver hair and the eye patch. He turned around. “It’s a friend, Marnie. It’s Vincent, he was here–” but Marnie had disappeared. Henry tripped over Phil’s body as he took a few steps toward the dark forest to see if he could find her. He caught himself on the wooden post that had been the axis of his world for so long. And then Vincent was helping him stand straight up again.
“Easy, it’s okay,” said Vincent. He held Henry up, leading him toward the road.
“I was going to let him go, Vincent. I did let him go–”
“I take it he didn’t go peacefully.”
“Marnie was here. Marnie saved me.”
“Henry,” Vincent said gently and turned to face Henry in the dark smoke, “Marnie is dead. Everyone here is dead. Remember? It’s all done. You don’t have to think about this part of your life any more.”
“She’s not Vincent– she’s here somewhere, we need to find her, she so thin, I don’t think she’s eating.”
Vincent shook his head and pulled Henry toward the road and out of the smoke.
“Why did you come?” Henry asked as they reached the front gate.
“I told you that I would. I told you if you came back that I would come with you. I just wish I’d been here sooner.”
“You were.”
“What?”
“You were here. Before the fire. You convinced me to let him go. You made me be a good man, despite myself.”
“I was down in the village an hour ago, Henry, I saw the smoke and ran as fast as I could. I wasn’t here. You made that decision yourself. If you are a good man, it’s because it’s who you chose to be, not because of me.”
They reached the truck and Henry grinned. “What?” asked Vincent.
Henry pointed to the keys that were still swinging in the ignition. His bag and stun gun were gone. The torn teddy bear looked at him with it’s one eye. “She is here. She made it.”
“She took your supplies,” Vincent said with a dry smile.
“That’s okay,” said Henry, “I brought them for her anyway. I have to find her.”
“Not like this, you don’t.”
“We can’t just leave her.” Henry struggled with Vincent but the fight with Phil had left him weak and exhausted.
“She doesn’t want to be found. She took your bag. She’s got a map. When she wants to find us, she will.” Vincent helped him into the passenger seat and then walked around and got into the cab. He started up the truck. “You kept your promise, Henry. You did everything you could. The rest is up to her,” he said.
Henry looked over at him, his eyes still stinging from the smoke. “Nothing’s changed though. Marnie’s still all alone. The world’s still an empty, cold, messy place. There are still people just like Phil out there, doing their thing, day after day. Nothing’s better.” His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper as he swiped at his face.
“The world’s been the same since it was spun into being. Cold and messy and all. Marnie might be on her own right now, but she knows she’s not alone anymore. That’s something that’s better. You’re better, Henry. That’s all that has to change for everything else to change too.” Vincent smiled and shifted into gear. The truck rolled down the broken tar, the ash of the camp breaking up and swirling away around them until the land in front of them stretched green and bright through the windshield. “C’mon. We’ve got work to do before the others arrive,” said Vincent as they picked up speed.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
“Where’s Henry?” asked Rickey, slinging another heavy rock into the bucket. Amos shook his head and hacked away at another dirt clod.
“Out looking again. Same place he is every morning.”
“We need him here,” scowled Stephanie, standing upright to stretch, “We still have half an acre to plant and the wall is only partway built. The City troops could roll up here any day. I don’t think we should be relying on old associations alone to protect us.”
Rickey spit into his furrow. “What are they going to do? We worked for what we took, we paid for it fair and square.”
Amos laughed. “We also took a nice chunk out of their workforce. They aren’t going to let that go so easy. If we don’t get those defenses up, the City’s going to make us a colony. We’ll be paying taxes before we know it and right back under the same rules as before.”
“I don’t know,” said Molly, nesting a
seedling in the warm soil, “Melissa got the crank radio working last night and it seems like that disease they thought they contained isn’t so contained after all. They aren’t saying how far it’s spread yet, but I don’t think we need to worry about soldiers on our doorstep for a while.”
Rickey whistled low and long. “We’ll have to worry about refugees though,” he said with a glance toward Amos.
“Let’s go find Henry,” Amos stood up straight and handed the hoe to Stephanie, “We’ll be back soon. In the meantime, make sure that the others get those seedlings in. We can’t do anything if we don’t eat.”
Amos and Rickey headed toward the road, passing large clusters of tents around the barn. There were shouts and hammering and the air was sweet with sawdust as they wove their way through the little settlement of log cabins that were quickly spreading over the north field toward the woods. Rickey waved to a few of the men who were sanding logs or packing mud in the chinks. Amos kept his eyes on the road for Henry, no less friendly for it though. They met him near the edge of the next farm, his head low, his shoulders curled around him. Amos exchanged a glance with Rickey.
“Henry,” called Amos, “we got news about the City. We have to have a meeting.”
Henry looked up. “No luck today?” asked Rickey. Henry shook his head.
“She’ll come tomorrow,” he said, twirling the plastic chili pepper on his wrist, “There are lots of places to stop between the lodge and here. She’s got time. It’s only early summer.”
Amos shot another glance at Rickey.
“What’s the news?” Henry asked.
“Maybe we should have Vincent–” Rickey began.
Amos shook his head. “No, this has gone on long enough. Henry, the Plague is back. It wasn’t stopped in the City. People there have got it.”
“That’s too bad,” said Henry, beginning to walk back toward the farmhouse, “but what’s it to us?”
“There are going to be people looking for a safe place. We weren’t exactly secret about where we were going. We’re the largest settlement outside the City. They aren’t even going to know they’re infected. We have to keep the people who are already here safe.”
“What do you want to do?”
“We have to get the wall up. Fast. And we have to stop letting people in.”
“You want to turn people away?”
“Do we have a choice?”
“We can’t just send them out there. There’s nothing out there. What if we make a hospital or a quarantine?”
“How are we going to feed them? How are we going to put a shelter up for them when we don’t have enough homes for our own?”
“What are we going to do when some of them turn?” broke in Rickey. They had reached the break in the low rock wall that would be the gate to their home.
“What do Melissa and Vincent say?” asked Henry.
“We haven’t asked yet,” said Rickey.
Henry nodded and headed for the barn where Vincent would be teaching the settlement’s children how to recognize poisonous plants. He waited for the lesson to end and caught Vincent as he was cleaning up. “Did you hear about the Plague?” he asked the priest.
“Yes, Melissa told me this morning.”
“Are you in favor of closing our gates too?”
“What choice do we have? If we don’t protect the people that are already here, there will be no safe place for anyone.”
“Marnie is out there somewhere.”
Vincent put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “And you did what you said that you would for her. You went back as you promised her mother you’d do. You offered her shelter and help as you promised you would do. And you didn’t follow her as you promised not to do. You’ve made other promises, Henry. To the people here. To your friends. These people trust you to do what’s right for them.”
“Isn’t there some other way?”
“I believe there is,” a strange, high voice interrupted. Vincent looked up and Henry turned around. A bulky figure in a strange burlap cowl stood at the end of the barn, the morning light filled with dust motes around him like a halo.
“I’m sorry,” said Henry, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Henry. Who are you?”
“The savior,” the figure replied. Vincent stepped forward, side by side with Henry.
“What is it you want?” asked Henry.
“To give you another way,” said the figure.
“And what way is that?” asked Vincent. Henry could feel the priest’s muscles tensing next to him, his hand closing over the shovel that leaned against a nearby barn beam.
“Why, Brother Vincent, Transubstantiation of course.” The figure’s cowl fell and Vincent gasped and dropped the shovel.
In the world of The Cured:
After the Cure
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ERVTFCM/
Thank you to all my generous beta readers April, Michael, Lora, Siobhan, Tim and my Dad. You have made this book immeasurably better than it was and I couldn’t have done it without each of your opinions and guidance!
I owe my cover to the gorgeous and haunting photography of Pamela Little from Little Pictures of Maine, whose huge, beautiful gallery and store can be found at http://ltlpicsme.smugmug.com/ which always makes me homesick in the best way possible.
And, as always, thank you to my husband, Tim, for countless things, but in this case, unwavering support, honest opinions, and great sense of humor– even when mine is broken.
The Cured Page 32