Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) (31 page)

“I— I didn’t mean to, what could I do? He jumped me. Would’ve eaten me or the Father. All of us I guess. I know we’re supposed to forgive them, that we need them but—” he continued to babble as Nella stood up and put a calming hand on his arm. Frank stabbed the dart into the other man’s arm.

“What’s that?” asked the man with the torch.

“We’re here to help,” said Nella, “Just medicine.” She poked her dart into the back of his neck. He reeled back trying to reach it, his eyes wide and his mouth opened in a surprised “o.” “Leave it there,” said Nella in a soothing voice, “When you wake up it’ll all be over. All of it, you are safe now.”

The man set the unlit torch on the grass. “You from the government?”

Nella could feel Frank staring at her, but didn’t dare return the glance. “That’s right,” she said.

“Well, what— what should I do now?”

“Just take a seat, let the medicine work. We’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

The man sat down in the grass next to the Infected. Nella gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, then grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him toward the next screaming knot of people.

“They aren’t all going to be that easy,” said Frank.

“No. He just wanted to be told what to do. Wanted someone in charge again. Maybe most of them do, but someone’s going to fight us before we finish.”

But the next group of five was too locked in grappling to even realize they’d been injected. Nella couldn’t even tell which were the Infected. Maybe they all were.

They reached the campfire and the fog burned away only to be replaced by thick, greasy smoke. A burning body lay in the grass, spreading the fire in a large patch. Naked steel beams stuck out of the earth to either side of the fire and a few dozen people were broken into pairs battling or moaning as they crawled along the grass or totally still and dangerously close to the flame.

“If they are sedated and the fire keeps spreading—” began Frank.

Nella nodded. “We have to stop the grass fire first.” She looked around. “None of these people are going to help us.” She began dragging a wounded woman away from the flames, stopping to inject her with the Cure and each of the other bodies she passed, not even checking to see whether they were alive.

Frank spotted a few large pots sitting on the edge of the bonfire and an old, dirty cooler beside it. He tossed the lid of the cooler aside and found it full of filthy water. He picked it up and heaved it over the flaming body and the blackening grass that surrounded it. The water sizzled and put out about half of the flames. Frank ran back to the fire and opened one of the pots, burning his hand. A thick sludge of oatmeal. He looked around him but there was nothing to help him pull it out of the fire. He slid out of his shirt and bunched it between his hands. He picked up the pot with the flimsy t-shirt and walked quickly to the remnants of the fire. Dumping the oatmeal, he threw the pot aside as it burned through the shirt. The old string of bite marks on his arm shone an angry red in the heat and the scars on his face and chest darkened. He stomped out the last few patches of grass fire.

Nella looked up and saw a man racing toward Frank. “Look out!” she cried, but it was too late. The man threw himself onto Frank’s back, making him stumble sideways. Nella dropped the man she was dragging and sprinted toward them. The man had his hands around Frank’s throat.

“That’s right,” he was saying, “Don’t want to damage you, just go to sleep.”

Frank tried to pull the hands away but he was off balance and panicked. Disoriented, he kept walking, trying to find something to shake the man off. They disappeared into the far edge of the fog.

“Frank!” Nella cried, still running after them. They couldn’t have gone far, but she didn’t see them. “He’s not Infected!” she yelled. “Let him go, he won’t hurt you, he’s not Infected!” She turned around straining her eyes to see into the fog around her. She wasn’t sure which way the campfire was or which way Frank had gone. She didn’t have time to guess so she just began running in one direction. “Frank!” she called, but there was no answer. Someone reached out and grabbed her. She stabbed the hand with a dart without stopping. It flinched and drew back into the gray blank. She heard a dog barking and tried to head for it, thinking it must be Bernard.

Nella almost smacked into a tall steel beam before she saw it. It was like the others but this one had a bundle drooping from its cross section. She kept running, only registering the foul smell as she passed underneath the dark bundle. The fog cleared again near a smaller campfire. She found Bernard’s dog jumping around it, frenzied and growling at the dark rear lights of a police car. Screams came from inside and she could hear thumping and grunts nearby. She pulled a bunch of darts from her pocket and ran up to the car. Frank was lying stretched out beside it. The man who had grabbed him was swinging his fist at Bernard. Nella darted forward and grabbed his arm. The man was caught off guard and flailed but wasn’t able to pull free. She aimed carefully and jabbed the dart’s slim needle into the bulging vein at his elbow and let go before he could react. He turned toward her just as Bernard’s fist came down on his cheek. He fell next to Frank and Bernard straddled him to hold him down.

Nella ignored them and hovered over Frank. He was breathing. In a few seconds he opened his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nella asked

He grimaced. “Headache. Otherwise I’m fine.”

“Take a few deep breaths to get rid of the headache,” she said, helping him sit up.

Bernard was struggling with the man,while the dog circled and barked. Nella helped hold him until the drug kicked in and he slowed down and then stopped.

“He thought I was Infected. He wanted to tie me to the cart with the others,” rasped Frank through his sore throat.

Nella stood up. “The others?” she asked and approached the front of the car. It wasn’t there. Instead the yoked Infected tried desperately to turn themselves toward her. She injected them, but she could see they were far too thin. They’d die before the sedative wore off. There were more inside the car.

“Help us!” cried a young man, threading his fingers through the wire cage.

“You aren’t Infected? Are you with this Father Preston?”

“No, no! We just wanted some food. Ruth sent us to get food from the garden. She said nobody wanted it, that Father Preston was burning it. But they caught us anyway.”

The fog around the car lifted as a breeze swirled around them. Nella was fumbling with the door when the foul odor hit her again.

“What happened here?” gasped Frank. Nella got the door open and people started tumbling out, more than she thought could fit in the small space.

“Where are you from?” snorted an older woman. “Father Preston’s been hanging people up if they did business with Ruth. We thought most of em had taken care of themselves years ago, but he always finds someone. This should put an end to it though,” the woman cackled but the others looked unnerved.

“Why? What did this Ruth do?” asked Frank, but Nella cut him off.

“We don’t have time. Go with Bernard, get out of here. We have lots more to do—”

A loud chorus of howls punctuated by a short, shrill scream erupted a few dozen feet from them.

“Must have reached the hospital,” said the woman, “Look, we’re grateful to be free, but we have to move before anyone finds us.”

Bernard nodded and motioned for the others to follow. Nella touched the dark ring around Frank’s neck. “Go with him, you’re hurt.”

Frank shook his head. “No way. That sounded like too many, even for you, Nella. We’ll go together.”

The fog was clearing quickly and a line of beams spread out to either side. “My God. What did this Ruth woman do to cause all this?” asked Nella, “What if we’re helping the wrong people?”

Frank shook his head. “We’re curing people that have been waiting all this time. How can that be wrong? I don’t care who this Ruth is or Father Preston. The Infected aren’t meant to be used this way.” He pulled the helmet from the yoked Infected who were now sleeping in their harnesses. Nella helped him untie the straps and lift the yoke away from their sitting forms. Then they turned toward the large building that was gradually solidifying through the fog against the warm sun.

Chapter 31

The dresser wiggled again. Juliana pressed herself against the headboard of the bed. Ruth stood in front of the dresser, debating whether to press it back to the wall or keep silent. Whoever was out there wasn’t friendly. If it was Father Preston’s people they wouldn’t be stopped by a dresser. But an Infected might give up. She slid around the edge of the dresser and peered through the crack in the door, careful to stay in the corner’s shadow. She couldn’t make much out, just a lot of movement. It seemed as though there were several people outside, all struggling with each other, none of them realizing she and Juliana were inside the room. She crept over to the window, thankful again to be on the third floor. She eased it open and looked out. The sun was hitting the back of the building now, dispersing most of the fog.

“How are you feeling today?” she whispered to Juliana. Juliana crawled carefully over the bed toward her.

“You want to go out that way?”

Ruth shrugged. She didn’t see an obvious way down. “Maybe we can wait them out.”

“We’re going to die here aren’t we?”

Ruth sagged onto the bed. There was a bang on the wall outside the room. “I’m sorry,” she said, “It was a shitty plan to begin with. I thought I’d have time to fix it. I thought I’d get us out.”

Juliana hugged her. “It’s okay. The Afflicted will escape, some of them. I just wanted to give them a chance. The fog will help them get away. I hope someone else finds them and helps them.”

Ruth began to cry and she shook her head. “No Juliana, there’s nobody else out there in the world like you. Maybe there’s nobody else out there at all. But they won’t have to suffer for too long.”

“You can’t think that way. There’s a reason we’re still here. All of us. Maybe we don’t get to see the happy ending, maybe we’re just the midpoint of the story, the what did you call it? The krìsis. But the story goes on after it passes us by. The happy ending is out there. It must be.”

There was another bang and the dresser teetered on its two front legs before settling back down. “Why? Why does there have to be a happy ending? Where is that the rule?” cried Ruth, her voice shaking between sobs.

“Because you are still sitting here with me. Because after eight years, this place was still going. The helpless, the useless, were still cared for and fed until
everyone
was starving. Nobody had to care for them. They didn’t add to anyone’s chances of survival. But they
were
cared for, by more than just you and me. Evil never lasts, not even the Plague. But love does. Even after threats and violence and betrayal, it sticks around. Someday, these people will be cured. I know it in my bones. And even if they can’t remember us, they’ll know that someone watched over them for a long, long time. They’ll know they were loved even after the world ended. And how can that be anything but a happy thought?”

The dresser crashed onto its face in front of the bed and the door swung open. Ruth curled herself around Juliana in a hug, trying to shield her as long as she could. But as the first drooling Infected snapped its teeth and stepped onto the back of the dresser, Father Preston’s voice came charging up the staircase at them and everyone stopped. The Infected pivoted, their heads swiveling in the same smooth motion toward the door. Ruth stared as they began scrambling over each other, boiling down the hallway toward the roaring priest. Ruth leapt up and shut the door as quietly as she could. She lifted the dresser slowly and pushed it back into place in front of the doorframe. Juliana stood up.

“We can’t leave him,” she said.

Ruth turned to stare at her. “What are you talking about? He was coming to kill us. To drag us out into that field and— and
crucify
us.”

“They’ll eat him alive. It’s what, half a dozen to one?”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

Juliana shook her head. “No Ruth, the Infected were supposed to buy us time. To make a distraction. But I thought everyone would flee. I thought we’d all escape.”

Ruth’s lips tightened into a hard line.

“If we let him die because of the Infected, we’ll be just as guilty of using them as he was planning to. If you won’t do it for Father Preston, think of how the Infected would feel knowing we allowed them to devour someone.”

Ruth pushed aside the dresser. “How are we supposed to stop them?” she asked as she opened the door.

“Maybe we can get them to chase us out the door. The confusion in front should distract them after that and we can double back— or leave.”

Ruth raced down the steps shouting and waving her hands. Father Preston was already on the floor, two of the Infected snapping at each other like wild dogs over their kill. The other three were already gnawing on him. None of them paid attention to Ruth. She leapt from the stairs and smashed into one of them, using her full weight to bowl him over. They fell and tangled in with a third. Growling, they made a weak attempt to catch her as she sprang up, but almost immediately fell back to Father Preston as easier prey. Ruth pulled the knife from her waistband.