The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) Page 12

  “I’ll tell them. Goodnight, Molly.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Vincent clicked the radio off and scrubbed at his good eye. He didn’t want to tell her, but her voice had made him the loneliest he’d ever been, even the solitude of the monastery couldn’t match it. He had a need to be among other humans, even if they were strangers. He ducked out of the small tent, keeping his own night watch, checking the fences, listening for bad dreams. But the disease was merciful and nobody turned that night.

  Twenty-one

  “I don’t like leaving her alone while we do this,” grumbled Amos.

  “She’s not alone. She’s got the entire Colony with her. You should be more worried about Melissa and Rickey. Or me and you, when it comes to it.” Henry glanced back in the side mirror, watching Molly carry a bucket of water as Amos pulled away.

  “You can’t really think Gray’s just going to go away because we told him to, do you? What if he tries something before we get back?”

  Henry’s face paled, but he shook his head. “Not today, it’s too soon. He knows we expect him to come back. He’ll try something alright, but he’s the type to wait until he thinks we aren’t paying attention. He’ll give it a few days.” He paused for a moment. “Or he’ll attack us for the truck, since we’re on our own, or Rickey and Melissa for their gear,” he added grimly. “But Melissa knows every footpath and street in the county, even after it’s disappeared into weeds. She can outwit Gray. And as long as we stay alert, he shouldn’t get the jump on us. And we should be back by tonight, right?”

  “We’ll make okay time there,” said Amos, “we cleared it last trip. But I wasn’t kidding when I said this stuff is hard to transport. You get a container of more than a dozen or so gallons and a little knock can make it explode. We’re going to have to crawl back, especially if we can get a sprayer truck filled and working. And we have to. This plan isn’t going to work without a sprayer truck.” He was quiet for a moment. “Henry, you saw the cans in back? It’s the last of the gasoline. All of it. I know you’re looking at this week as a kind of endgame before you go into quarantine, and maybe you don’t think— maybe you aren’t planning for after. But I have to.”

  Henry scrubbed his face. “We checked all the stations?”

  “Everything in twenty-five miles. I knew it before we went anyway. Scavv teams have been out as far as a hundred.”

  “This is it then, isn’t it? Either way, we’re really on our own. Modern life is done.”

  “Until we can grow enough corn for ethanol. Assuming we could figure it out. It’ll be a few years. It had to happen at some point right? Guess this is as good a reason for using what’s left as I could ask for. Was kind of hoping to find a horse or cow first, though. Going to have to yoke me to the plow next year instead.” He snorted and Henry laughed.

  The truck kicked dust up into a cloud of gold around them and Henry stuck his arm out the open window, feeling the breeze, trying to hold the memory of movement close for when it wouldn’t be there anymore. “I’m not planning on dying, if that’s what you are asking,” he said suddenly, grabbing a fistful of heavy goldenrod as they passed. The feathery blossoms broke off in his hand. “You were right, there’s nothing I can do for Marnie right now, but when Vincent leaves, when he takes everyone with him, she’ll stay because she’s going to be an Immune. Then I’ll go into quarantine with her. And when we’re back in the fall, we’ll find a library and start reading about ethanol. Next year will be better.”

  Amos nodded. “From your mouth to God’s ear, Henry. Next year will be better. Amen to that.” The truck bounced over a deep hole and Amos fell silent, gritting his teeth and concentrating on the miles left to go.

  “Keep up,” scolded Melissa, adjusting the heavy pack on her shoulders. “I don’t want to get separated and have to come rescue you when Gray pops out of the bushes.”

  Rickey scowled. “I wouldn’t need you to rescue me. Can rescue myself.” But he picked up his pace. “Where’s this place again?”

  Melissa shaded her eyes. She pointed to a hazy point that poked against the horizon. “Top of that mountain.”

  Rickey groaned. “That’s days away.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the only one in range that has its own power source. Just hope nobody else is using it or we’re going to have trouble.”

  He caught up to her and said in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard, “It’s not trouble ahead I’m worried about, it’s the asshole we left behind us.”

  “Yeah, I’m worried about that too. But Molly’s got almost a hundred people who can help her if he comes back. And Amos and Henry will be back tonight.”

  “What if he doesn’t attack them? What if he does something to the quarantine camp? Molly will try to protect them and then the whole Colony will get exposed.”

  “Vincent won’t let her. And that couple— the ones that cured us, they don’t seem the type to roll over and die. They’re tough and they’ve tangled with Gray before. I bet if they’d been with us, Gray wouldn’t have been let go. I have a feeling he’s done a lot more than we know about.”

  Rickey’s thin face was still drawn in, all angle and nose as if he were consuming himself from the inside out, a vacuumed bottle of worry. Melissa glanced at him. “Stop it. We can’t do anything about it. We’re going to have to trust that the others are doing what they are supposed to, because we’ve got to do our job too. If we don’t get this signal up in time, the whole thing’s for nothing. And I’ll feed you to the first Infected that shows up next spring.”

  Rickey glanced back once more, though the Colony had been out of sight a long while. He bounced the pack on his shoulders and then plunged into the thin woods behind Melissa.

  Nella paced the small square of their cage. She looked around her. Frank was fiddling with something inside the tent. She quickly stood on one foot and closing her eyes, began to mouth the alphabet in reverse order. Still all there, she thought with relief.

  Frank’s breath was warm in her ear. “You’re still you,” he said, and caught her as she lost balance and put her foot down. She gave him a sharp look, expecting that he was making fun of her, but his face was serious, sad even.

  “I just thought you might want a second opinion, to make you feel better,” he said.

  Thirty-four, her brain said. He picked up the small bowls of oatmeal that had been left for them.

  “You think it’s safe?” he asked, “Father Preston was looking pretty murderous yesterday.”

  “Vincent brought those. He said that his friends have started their plans today. He’ll let us know when they are back but we will still have to wait a few weeks for the signal to be heard. He says he and Preston should be at the end of their incubation periods by then—” she trailed off, thinking how close her own would be by then.

  Frank folded himself onto the grass beside her. “It seems we are destined to spend month-long chunks of our time stuck in isolation together. Good thing you like me,” he said with a smile, holding up her bowl, but lowered it again. “Stop that,” he said and she glanced over at him.

  “I can practically see you counting days in your head.”

  “I wasn’t,” she said, but felt her cheeks flush as if he’d seen more of her than she intended. “Well, what else is there to do?” she snapped, flustered, “They won’t let us help them. They can’t exactly let us go. There’s no useful work we can do without contaminating their supplies. What should I be doing besides pacing this rut of panic in my head?”

  “You’re the head doctor. But if you are asking for suggestions, you could love me,” he patted the grass next to him with a smile.

  “I do. Which makes the panic worse and the time seem so short.” She sat down beside him and wrapped herself around her own knees as if she didn’t dare to touch him. “Every time I look at you, my brain tells me it’s one less time that’s left. Everything is finite. When— when I kissed you that first time, my life seemed to grow, everything expand
ed. Me, the City, the world— but now we’re shrunken to a tiny cage and a handful of days. The more I try to slow it down, the faster and faster it whirls, sucking me toward the end. Of everything.” She clutched her head in her arms, squeezing back the sob that threatened to spill out.

  “Everything was always finite, Nella.” He pulled her into his side. “You just didn’t think about it constantly. I could have died in the bunker. You could have died from the Infected biting you. We could have sunk the sailboat. We could be hit by lightning. I could walk out in the street and—” he stopped and laughed. “Okay, maybe I can’t get hit by a bus anymore.” It won him a weak smile from Nella. “My point is, we can’t constantly be living with a countdown. It ruins everything, even the moment you are trying so hard to keep hold of. Just be here, with me. The night you kissed me— it was one of the worst nights I’d had since being Cured. We had just talked to Dr. Carton and I knew we were in trouble. I knew we were talking about finishing off the rest of the world. And I told you the worst things about me— things I never thought I’d tell another soul. I was so miserable. And you were too. Worried and embarrassed because I was so clumsy—”

  “You weren’t,” she protested.

  “I was. But when you kissed me, it didn’t matter. The minute before it didn’t exist. The humiliation and depression, it was gone. And the minute after it didn’t matter. The Plague didn’t matter, Pazzo didn’t matter. There was just you and me. And that’s why it felt like the world grew. That’s why it felt infinite. It passed, as this minute will pass, as tomorrow will pass, because it was always finite. But if we can let go, if we can stop the countdown and just be you and me, together, then that handful of days will mean more while they happen. Everything dies, Nella.”

  “It’s not dying that frightens me,” she said.

  “What frightens you then? Why this panic?”

  “Going mad. Hurting you. Making you hate me.”

  “I will never hate you, Nella. Not even if the worst happens. The person you are— the Nella I love, won’t disappear when you turn. I know that you’ll still be there, underneath. I’ll love you until the day I die, even if it’s you that causes it. But I won’t let that happen. I won’t make you carry the same guilt I have.”

  He sat with his arms around her for a moment, quietly. He stroked the puffy red scrape on her palm with one finger. “Besides,” he said with a slow grin, “maybe it’s tetanus instead. And in three weeks it’ll surprise you by coming ahead of time.”

  She elbowed his ribs. “Thanks for that,” she said.

  He laughed and rubbed his chest. “My point is: stop thinking about it. Live in denial for a while. Let go. Just be here with me. Weeks of leisure with the person I love most in the world. Ten years ago people would have paid thousands for the opportunity to do this.” He twisted to look at the small tent. “Well, maybe not here, but we have what we need. And it sure beats being separated from you by a glass wall. Let the others do their job. We’ve done ours. Let them worry about what comes next. Just stay with me, as long as you can.”

  She held his face between her hands and kissed him until the world slid away in bright, summery streamers.

  The other occupants of the quarantine camp had no one to distract them from their own countdown. Most of them stayed calm for a while, cheerful even, for a week or so. But sooner or later, reality hit them all. Vincent tried to visit with each detainee every day, just to break up the monotony, for himself and for them. And of course, there were daily prayer sessions with Father Preston, but he rarely talked to anyone but God, instead standing in front of each cage muttering ominously for a few moments before moving away. And Lisa who brought them their meals. These were the only events that prevented the days from running into a long muddle of misery punctuated only by the shrieks of those who turned and the deep silence that followed Vincent’s blade.

  Marnie was playing War through the fence with Vincent with an old pack of cards she’d taken from the hospital. Christine had said it was a waste of space, but Marnie was glad she had taken them. They were doing her more good now than the heavy cans of food they’d shoved into the packs or the first aid kit Christine had insisted on. “Sorry for running when you came to help Henry at the Lodge,” she offered, “I didn’t know who you were then. I was scared. I— I should have given you a chance.”

  “Sorry I scared you,” said Vincent. “Henry was convinced you were still there, but none of us believed him. Maybe if we had, we all would have come to the Lodge together and you would have seen we were safe.”

  “Did he really come back for me? He’s not my dad. Why did he care so much about what happened to me?”

  “He made a promise to your mom. And he felt guilty about bringing Phil into your lives. You gave him a purpose after he woke up. A reason to try instead of just sink into despair about the things he did when he was sick. Pam had her family, Rickey had his tough persona, Henry had you.”

  “And you? What did you have?” asked Marnie.

  He dogeared his cards without meaning to. “I had the others. And I had all the things I wanted to make up for. All the things I wanted to fix.”

  “Like what happened to my mom?”

  “Yes. Among others.”

  Marnie shook her head. “But nothing can fix that.”

  He looked at her, his one eye searching her face calmly. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

  Vincent looked up as Lisa approached them, wringing her hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s the man in cage six. He says it’s coming and he wants you to— he doesn’t want to wait until the turn. He asked me to talk to you. Father Preston is furious, but the man begged me to ask you.”

  He passed his set of cards through the fence to Marnie without speaking. He got up from the dirt and brushed himself off before heading slowly down the lane for the wheelbarrow. He left it in the lane in front of the cell. The blade rested inside it. He looked at it for a long moment and then picked it up. The cage door was already open. He’d have to talk to Father Preston about being more careful. Vincent ducked under the front tent flap. Father Preston and the man were both kneeling in the grass, the priest muttering feverishly, the man silent but beginning to rock on his knees.

  “Colin? Lisa said you were asking for me.”

  Both men looked up. Father Preston’s face immediately twisted into a scowl. “I asked for you both,” said Colin, “Won’ be long now. Want to be peaceful when I go. Not hungry an’ raging like a starved wolf.” He turned toward Father Preston. “Wanned your miracle to work, Father. Prayed on it every day. Prayed for you every day. I’m true believer. Never doubted you. Still don’ doubt. Watched th’others go. That mother an’ her boy. God forgive me, I thought she was unworthy because she din’t tell us about him. I felt righteous when she went. Found reasons to justify the others too. Kep’ right on praying. Never ‘ccured to me, maybe I was unworthy of a miracle too. But ‘ere I am. I was an Immune, last time. I was convinced it was only the wicked who grew ill, that they weren’t human anymore. That they didn’t deserve my mercy if they hadn’t earned God’s. I never did a kindness for a Cured. And now I’m an Infected. I see how wrong I’ve been. How gravely I’ve sinned against my fellows. I’m not worthy of your miracle Father Preston. That’s why it isn’t working. I pray for you and the others now, that you’ll be able to save ‘em, that your faith won’t waiver. Faith made me hard an’ mean. It burned me up, like a candle with too much wick. It was more important to show it on the outside than feel it on the inside. Wasn’t meant to do that. Should have been kinder. Should have seen myself in them. All of ‘em got a spark. Fell for a lot of flashy charlatans and missed a lot of true friends. Now I’m judged as I have judged them. Pray for me, Father.”

  “You can’t do this,” said Father Preston, “it’s suicide. I can’t allow it.”

  “You go on now, Father. There’s a whole camp who need you and your miracle. You save it for them. Vincent a
nd I, we’re just going to make amends. I’ve not done right by him. Can’t atone to everyone I’ve wronged, but I can ask his forgiveness.”

  Father Preston looked surprised. He got up, but hesitated to leave.

  Colin nodded at him. “You got work to do, Father. You’ve done your best here. It was me that was found wanting. Help someone more worthy than me. Someone kinder, who understands what faith really means.”

  Father Preston put a hand on Vincent’s arm. His face was sunken, drooping. Defeated. “Please—” he started, but cut himself off. Vincent wasn’t certain if Father Preston were begging for Colin or for himself. But the other priest just left the tent, closing the flap behind him. Colin was still on his knees. Vincent crouched in front of him.

  “Are you certain?” asked Vincent.

  “Been fighting it back for hours. Sometimes I forget why I’m here. Tried to pry the fence apart this morning.” He lifted his hands to show Vincent a grid of thin cuts. “Didn’t even notice it hurt. And then, when I bled and smelled it . . .” He shuddered. “Don’t think I can come back again. I want to be me, at the end. Even a few seconds early. Father Preston thinks those seconds will damn me. Know you were a priest once too, Vincent. Don’t mind admitting to you that those few seconds are probably the least sin on my tally. I’m certain.”

  Vincent stood up. “Forgive me,” he said and circled behind Colin.

  Colin nodded and began whispering. “…No evil. For you are with me.” The blade whistled softly as Vincent raised it up to his ear. Colin was rocking on his knees, and Vincent dreaded missing. He wanted to ask Colin to stop, but he knew it was an unconscious tic of the disease. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me…” The blade flashed down. There was no scream, just the Colin’s body slumping sideways as the head rolled upward, its lips still moving, “…house of the Lord forever.”