by Sara Clancy
Infected became a chant. A battle cry. A death rattle. Wild with fear, they surrounded them, eyes flaring and fists balling. Paranoia became their safe guard and they kept their distance. Henry and the Lee sisters arranged themselves to stand back to back, each restlessly scanning the area, trying to keep everyone in sight at once.
“Silence” Egil roared.
The mob simmered with resentment but listened to their leader. Fixing his eyes onto Rocca, he asked, “How many are suspected of being infected?”
Rocca hesitated. The words wouldn’t pass her lips until Egil snapped her name, jarring her from her thoughts.
“Only two.”
“Who?”
Egil’s question brought forth a new wave of uncertainty. Rocca looked over the crowd. The lingering, building promise for violence made the small group seem far larger than it was. Jezebel watched her carefully. She could pinpoint the exact moment Rocca realized that naming the sick could essentially be signing their death warrant.
“We don’t know for sure,” Rocca specified. “And they’ll be fine once we get out of here.”
Egil softened his voice. “Opening the gates is going to take longer than I expected. We’re going to have to be smart in the meantime and quarantine the sick. They’re going to stay in the doctor’s office with the critically wounded. Everyone else will move across the courtyard.”
His response steeled Rocca’s nerve and she nodded. “Kassidy and Auto.”
Neither name meant anything to Jezebel, but it was clear enough to spot them. They were the ones that started to scream in protest. In the midst of it all, it struck Jezebel that they were all present. No one had gone looking for Jim, she realized. The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. Perhaps it had happened when they were gone. Or maybe Egil had secretly kept the thought close and tried not to create panic. But it was clear to her now. Egil thinks Jim is dead. He’s desperate to get out.
It was ice water on her brain. It left her numb, barely noticing as the crowd began to close around them. Henry held his ground, secure in the knowledge that no one was willing to touch him and risk infection. Everything changed the instant the first person grabbed one of the sticks from the fire.
Embers spewed from the blazing tips as they swung their makeshift torches. Henry had to leap back, arching his spine to keep the flames from slashing across the bare skin of his stomach. One torch became many, corralling the infected back towards the door.
“The critically wounded can’t stay with us,” Annabel protested. “They don’t have a chance of fighting off any infection.”
“You’re a doctor,” Rocca said. “You’ll take care of them.”
Annabel didn’t have time to protest. They were forced back through the door and she staggered to keep upright. Two others joined them. A still screaming man and woman. Both wept as they reached for loved ones. Their search for a comforting touch was met with shouts and flames.
“It’s only for a little while,” Egil said. “As soon as we get the gate open, we’ll come back for you.”
Henry slammed the door shut in the man’s face. Throwing the latch into place, he braced the door with his forearm and turned to the sisters. Jezebel met his gaze. They both felt it. They both knew. But neither one of them wanted to voice their suspicions aloud.
“He’s going to kill us.” Annabel spoke the words as indifferently as she said everything else.
Silence followed.
Chapter 9
Ice wrapped around Annabel’s spine, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Her fingers searched for the sides of her shirt to clutch onto. They only found soft, slick skin.
“We need to find some clothes,” she said, glancing at her sister and Henry.
“It’s warm enough,” Jezebel said. “We can focus on other things first.”
Henry was already moving away from door. “The plague was first spread by fleabites. Probably best not to leave too much skin exposed.”
“We’re already exposed.” They turned to the voice broken by both whimpers and resentment.
Annabel reasoned the girl’s name was Kassidy and there was something admittedly familiar about her. It was useless to try and study her hawk-like nose or wide, dark eyes. None of it would help. Instead, she tipped her head to the side to get a better look at the raw gash that stretched along the length of her arm. Thick black thread kept the edges together. She was a little embarrassed to see the sloppy state of the stitches. Still, the sight did provoke a few vague memories. The woman was a few years older than Jezebel and had taken the boat tour as part of her honeymoon. Annabel had distinct memories of Kassidy’s husband screaming about the pain she was putting his wife through. Stitches without anything to numb the nerve endings wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone involved.
“We’re going to be fine.” The words felt weird as they fell from Annabel’s mouth.
They were instantly met with a scowl from Auto, a sturdy man with the build of a bulldog, and a wild sobbing cackle from Kassidy.
“My bedside manner is horrible,” Annabel mumbled to herself.
“You have other strengths,” Jezebel was quick to soothe. She squeezed her sister’s shoulder as she passed. “I’ll check upstairs for some clothes. If we boil them before we put them on, would that work? Will it kill everything?”
What do I know about killing fleas? “It’ll be better than nothing,” Annabel said. The three of them had to step to the side as Auto and Kassidy rushed forward to bang their fists against the door. They pulled at the handle and clawed at the wood. It would not budge. They’ve put something in front of it, Annabel realized with a sinking feeling. A vague memory bubbled to the top of her mind. Of towns that used fire as a quarantine measure. She glanced to Henry, finally understanding what he meant from the start. They’re going to burn us alive. If they can’t get through the gates, they’ll burn us to keep themselves safe.
“I need to check on the patients,” Annabel said.
It was her routine now. There was a steady familiarity to it that let her think. Henry’s gaze flicked towards the still frantic pair. With a tip of his head, he coaxed the sisters to the far side of the room, towards the three critical patients.
“I say we let them be,” he whispered, a flick of his eyes indicating Kassidy and Auto. They still clawed at the door with bleeding fingers, begging for the release. “It’ll keep them out of the way.”
“Do you think they can slip out the window?” Jezebel whispered.
“Don’t mention it to them,” Annabel quickly replied. “Whatever else is going on, something infected that girl. I’ve never seen a disease kill that fast. We can’t risk it spreading.”
“You think we’re infected?” Jezebel asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Annabel deadpanned. She wished she had something nicer to say. Or, at the very least, a softer tone in which to speak harsh truths. “But there’s a chance. We don’t know how this thing spreads, or what it is. We should take precautions and keep tabs on each other.”
“Maybe it only exists in this town. If we get out, away from the Plague Doctors, we might be fine,” Henry said.
Annabel looked up at him. “That’s not how biology works.”
“We’ve all seen ghosts,” was his reply.
Unable to bring herself to argue the point, and noticing the look Jezebel was shooting her way, Annabel forced a smile and attempted a cheerful tone. “Right. So let’s just give this one hundred and ten percent.”
Henry smirked and headed towards the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, “That’s not how math works.”
The thudding resumed as she knelt down to check on the first of the three. A small pang of jealousy slipped through her to find that they were still unconscious. They have no idea what’s going on, she thought. Maybe they’ll die without ever seeing the red figures. A heavy weight settled against her chest. Her numb hands kept her from feeling them shake. Red figures filled her mind, killing all other though
ts, shredding every hope of safety. Her skin crawled. They’ll come back. The words whispered in the back of her mind. A constant taunting chant. She settled the strips of material down against the unconscious man. She saw the state of her hands and froze.
A blinding flash of horror ripped through her veins, and she stared at her hands, unable to believe what she saw. The grime under her fingernails. The blood clinging to the skin of her nail bed. I didn’t wash my hands! Gloves had never been an option. Her search of the doctor’s office had produced nothing that came close. But she had always washed her hands. Scrubbed them raw with a bristled brush and steaming water. It was the one thing she could do to try and slow the inevitable victory of bacteria. To buy them time. I didn’t wash my hands!
“No,” she whispered the word and raked her nails across her fingers. I must have. I always do! I must have!
“No.” The word drawn out in a whimper as the illusion refused to leave her. The blood, dirt, and soot remained.
Hurling herself to her feet, she staggered across the room. I’ve only touched one. I’ve only infected one. Beyond the reach of her frantic thoughts, she could hear her professor’s correction; You’ve only killed one.
Annabel dropped to her knees in front of the fire and thrust her hands into the nearest pot of water. Pain exploded across her nerve endings. A scream ripped from her throat as instinct yanked her hands back out of the boiling water. Her skin throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat. The cold numbness died in the wake of blistering agony. Tears prickled and blurred her vision and she curled in on herself. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the stairs rattling and a stampede of footsteps.
“Anna,” Jezebel gasped. “What happened?”
Annabel’s mind was still a swamp of regret, disgust, and agony. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even straighten her spine to present the hands she kept carefully cradled to her stomach. Jezebel’s hands fell on her shoulders, running in soothing circles as she demanded answers from Kassidy and Auto. Both of them had stopped pounding on the door, but neither seemed all that inclined to move away from it.
“Give me your hand.” Henry’s voice kept it as a request. Perhaps it was this that had Annabel cooperating without question. Holding her gently by the wrist, he sunk her hands into buckets of cool rainwater.
“Oh, God, Anna. What happened to your hands?”
Annabel couldn’t answer. While the environment kept the water from being cold enough to stop the creeping burn, it was a blissful relief. When she didn’t respond, Henry worked to get her other hand into the water and Jezebel lurched to her feet.
“What the hell happened to my sister’s hands?” She screamed the words like a banshee, flooded each word with a blistering hatred that made the panicked stricken pair fall abruptly silent.
The heavy pounding thuds of the battering ram striking the gates broke the air. Over and over, adding to the pain building behind Annabel’s eyes.
“Is there something else I can do?” Henry whispered the question as if he didn’t want to draw the attention of anyone else in the room.
The water was already starting to heat around her fingers, creating a warm halo that set her hands to roast.
Trying to speak through the lump in her throat made her hurt all over. “More water.”
Henry nodded and was on his feet. For once, he moved with purpose and grace. It served as proof to Annabel just how desperately he wanted to avoid being lured into the standoff happening on the other side of the room. He hurried to the window and cracked it open, seeking the assorted buckets of water that had been left outside to fill. The shuffle drew attention. Kassidy and Auto instantly forgot Jezebel. Their attention fixed onto him with laser focus.
“They left the window open?” Kassidy’s voice hovered between a sigh of relief and a crow of victory. “We can get out that way.”
“And go where?” Auto asked.
She turned to the man, completely ignoring the others that were present. “The storm has let up. We can head back to the beach. The others might be there. There might be a search party. If not, we can make it around the peninsula now.”
“If you’re infected, you’ll spread whatever this is,” Annabel spoke through the tight clench of her teeth.
“You said all we need are some antibiotics,” Auto snapped.
Annabel shook her head. “This kills too fast to be the plague.”
“All the more reason to get to a hospital,” Auto said.
“And there’s no proof we are infected,” Kassidy added. “I feel fine. The longer we stay here, the more we risk it. We need to get out of here.”
The two were of a like mind as they edged towards the window. With his bucket in hand, Henry backed up, glancing between them and the sisters, as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Kassidy and Auto passed by him without hesitation and crept towards the window.
“Think this through,” Annabel said.
The hypocrisy of the words struck Annabel like a blow and her hands throbbed with renewed force. Jezebel took a step towards them but went no further. Henry decided that the argument wasn’t his to make and instead turned his attention to Annabel and her hands.
“We need time to think.” For all of Annabel’s intention to put force into the words, they came out as a whimper.
“I have,” Kassidy retorted. “I’ll go get help and bring it back. Who knows, maybe the locals know what this illness is. For them, it might just be an average Tuesday.”
Auto brought up the one subject they had all been trying to avoid. “Those things might come back. I don’t want to be here when they do. I’m not just gonna wait around to die.”
Pain ravaged Annabel’s flesh. Fire scorched her bones. Fear broke her in two like kindling. She couldn’t bring herself to argue. Logic told her she should stop them and her professor’s voice screamed at her to contain the unknown contagion. The will to live whispered just as loud. I’m only a first year, it whispered. What do I know? I can’t even remember to wash my hands. I shouldn’t be in charge. Henry crouched down next to her, offering her the perfect distraction to keep from having to make a choice and stand behind it.
Ash bobbed on the surface of the water. After her flesh heated the water, the new bucket was like slipping into Heaven. She still gasped in pain. Henry squirmed at the sound, as if waiting to be told there was something else he could do. They watched in anticipation as Kassidy peeked out from between the slats. Annabel’s scream seemed to have done little to stifle the others’ need to get out. The pounding continued. Hard and strong. Annabel could almost feel the impact of the air.
Kassidy gradually inched the window open. Hesitating, she glanced back at the others and offered a weak smile. “I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“I’m coming with you,” Auto added as a passing thought. “You guys just take care of them. We’ll get help.”
With Auto’s help, Kassidy got her legs over the ledge and slipped them outside. They hadn’t risked opening the window all the way, leaving only a small gap for them to work with. Kassidy’s feet hit the ground and she dipped out of sight. Auto’s upper body strength made it incredibly easy for him to lift his bulk up and brace his knee against the ledge. No one made a sound, leaving the rain and the crackle of the fire to break the uneasy tension. He shuffled and with his eyes darting around like a startled deer, he gradually disappeared through the gap. His feet squished against the thick mud under the window.
The first scream had Annabel on her feet. Suddenly, the night was filled with howls. Feral, anguished cries that sounded more like animals than people. The walls rattled with the sheer force of the sound. Auto scrambled his way back in as the noise rose to a constant rumbling of thunder. Kassidy’s arms shot through the gap, her skin awash with the strengthening brilliance of the approaching flames. Jezebel and Auto were the closest to the window. They hurried to grab Kassidy’s searching arms and yanked her back into the room.
Flames licked through the gap, mak
ing Annabel’s heart lurch into her throat. She grabbed the bucket by her feet. Her blistering skin gave no protection against the hard edges. She felt it grind against her bones as she ran across the room. Lifting it made her arms ache but she managed to slosh the contents out over the gap. Dark puffs of smoke curled and rolled from the sputtering flames.
“Watch the flames!” Annabel roared, throwing every inch of pain she felt into the scream.
Kassidy, heaving and shivering, hunched forward and bellowed over the cluster of earsplitting noise. “That wasn’t an accident!”
“They’re burning down the place?” Jezebel asked.
Annabel lurched forward. “We have sick people in here!”
“I think that’s the point,” Henry said as he turned on his heel.
Snatching up some of the shreds of rags that had been set aside to cool, Henry used the protection to rip the pot of boiling water from the rickety frame. Instead of heading towards the front door, he took the stairs two at a time, water sloshing behind him. Annabel caught onto his plan a second later and followed suit. It felt like flames had captured her hands and she could almost feel the blisters starting to form. The added weight dragged her down and the swinging canister came dangerously close to her exposed tender skin. She had never appreciated clothes until now.
She got to the second floor just as Henry used an unidentifiable object to crash open the boards that crisscrossed one of the windows. A fluttering storm of ash and rain barreled in through the gap while he pried the rest loose, allowing the shattered hunks to topple down onto the gathering mob. Golden light filled every inch of the space he created, bathing a swirling smog in the slight promise of an unseen blaze.
“Egil!” His voice boomed like a crack of thunder.
There was no response from the man in question. She scurried across the floor. Drained, exhausted, and with barely enough strength left to curl her fingers, she had to drag the bucket behind her, the edge carving a path through the layer of dust. Henry glanced to her. There was a light in his eyes. A spark of uncertainty and terror. With his back to the window and his chest heaving, he begged her for forgiveness. Or permission. She wasn’t sure which. Whatever it was, he found it in her nod. When he turned back, his face was as emotionless and hard as stone.