Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) (33 page)

“But if I had waited, I would have my son. If I had waited, all those people would have their loved ones back—”

“No. No one will get their loved one back. You wouldn’t know your son. He’d be a stranger to you. You’ve had separate worlds. If everything started up again tomorrow, if all the lights turned back on and the traffic started up and everybody went back to work, you wouldn’t be the person you were before the Plague. Neither would your son. No one can go through what we’ve been through without changing. You might think you’d have a sweet little boy again, but your son would be an angry young man. He would remember being tied up for years. He would remember hurting you or your husband. He would remember how badly he wanted it all to stop, and that you, even though you would have done it out of love, you withheld relief. You’ll see. The day after tomorrow, when those people start waking up, they’ll find remaining relatives maybe, but they won’t know them. Even if they were old enough to understand what Juliana has done, to appreciate what you all have sacrificed, they cannot be the people that you expect. They aren’t just going to pick themselves up and carry on.”

“Why did you come then? Why did you bring the cure after all these years? Why not just let them die?” Ruth tried to hide the anger in her voice but it leaked through.

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t want to spend another day as a monster. No matter how badly I felt after the Cure. Even if I were to kill myself, I’d still rather die sane than raging and wandering.” Frank paused for a moment and flicked a speck of rotten wood into the water. “And because we knew someone had to be waiting for it. For us. If we hadn’t brought it, and you found out later that we had it— what would you think?”

Ruth was silent for a long time.

There were quick shuffling steps in the sand behind them. Ruth looked back toward the beach. Bernard sprinted toward them. Frank stood up and helped Ruth to her feet. Bernard pointed wildly toward the restaurant.

“Is it Father Preston? Or Gray?” asked Ruth beginning to run down the dock. Bernard shook his head. “What’s wrong?” she asked, then stopped at the edge of the sand. “It’s Juliana isn’t it?” Bernard nodded slowly. She was close enough to hear his panicked breath and see the tears streaming down his face.

Frank squeezed the big man’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Nella knows what to do until we get there,” he said.

“Is it too late?” asked Ruth.

Bernard shrugged and sobbed. Ruth held his good hand and they walked quickly toward the restaurant.

Chapter 33

Ruth sat next to the table where Juliana lay sleeping on a pile of tablecloths. She watched Bernard and the dog as they paddled the canoe out behind Frank and Nella’s rowboat. They were carrying fresh water to the ship, withdrawing from the empty restaurant so Ruth could be alone. She didn’t expect Juliana to wake up again though, the last seizure had been too severe. There was nothing to do but wait.

All this time, she’d wanted to be free. To leave the city, to leave the Infection behind. She was free now. Her only friend lay on a dusty table, unable to wake. The Infected were Cured. They didn’t need her or Juliana anymore. The choices Ruth had thought she’d had to make were gone. Despite what Frank had said, she was convinced she’d been making the wrong one all these years. She’d survived the death of her son, the suicide of her husband. She’d outlasted looters and cannibalistic Infected, the fiery clutch of Father Preston’s unyielding zeal.

She thought about tomorrow. Juliana would be gone. Nella might help, but the Infected didn’t know her. Ruth was going to have to walk back to the hospital and explain the world to those waking up. Alone. Or she could let Father Preston do it. She could sail with Bernard somewhere else. And do what? Become a witch doctor? A healer with herbs they grew? Watch the few people left succumb to tetanus or childbirth or the flu?

Ruth had survived a long time. But she’d had Juliana to keep her moral compass sharp. She didn’t know if she’d survive tomorrow without her. She didn’t know if she wanted to bother any more.

“Oh, don’t look like that,” said Juliana sleepily. Ruth turned toward her. “Isn’t this what you wanted? What we both wanted? No more hospital, the Infected are cured, no more arguing about what’s best for them. No more worrying, they can care for themselves. Nothing tying you here. Free to get out of this baking city. No more Father Preston and no more screamed sermons.”

“I’m sure there are more Father Prestons out there,” said Ruth dryly.

“Then you must go and be the Ruth to battle them all,” laughed Juliana lightly.

“I’m not sorry that I battled him. But I’m sorry I fought you. I’m sorry I kept making the wrong choice about the Infected.”

“There was no right choice, Ruth. We both acted out of compassion. I hope Father Preston did too. But we were all wrong sometimes. Who is going to judge us? Who are you apologizing to? Me? I kept people alive in agony for years because I believed in some mythical cure. I risked pneumonia and dysentery, starvation even. Because I couldn’t let go. Are you sorry for the families that begged you to relieve their loved ones? If Nick were here, he’d tell you he couldn’t have gone on a single day more. That Emma couldn’t have endured another day. That he’s as grateful to you today, knowing there is a cure, as he was a week ago. They reached their end. It was their time.”

“But they could have been cured six years ago. They wouldn’t have had to endure all that they did.”

“They
weren’t
cured six years ago, Ruth, and that has nothing to do with any of us. We can’t go back and undo all the harm that’s been done, no matter how much we want to. You have to stop trying. You have to start going forward, you have to start putting things back together, get out of this terrible rut of guilt and sorrow you’ve had on repeat since Charlie died. You have to stop doing penance for something that never was your fault.”

“I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know who I am without Charlie, without the Infected. Without you.”

“
Then find out
. There’s a whole world waiting out there. You are one of the most valuable people left alive: a real, trained doctor. You will be welcome wherever you want to go. There are a lot of people waiting for someone like you. Even more Infected maybe, if that’s really what you want.”

They were quiet for a while. Juliana dozed but kept her hand in Ruth’s. The small market boat was beginning to float back toward the shore when Juliana spoke again. “I wanted to see them wake up. I wanted to know they were going to be okay.”

“Frank was okay, after his cure,” offered Ruth.

Juliana sighed. “I know, but it’s not the same. Nobody wants to quit the story just before the happy ending.” Her eyes fluttered and then closed again.

“I’m glad you caught me stealing agrimony, Juliana,” she whispered. “Thank you for making me stick around this long after I lost Charlie and Bill. I’m glad you’re my friend, even if it took the Plague for us to meet.”

The sun was warm on the large windows, and the waves in the bay melted into the soft breathing of her friend. Ruth hadn’t slept well in days. She dozed off with her warm hand wrapped around Juliana’s cooling one.

Chapter 34

Frank helped Bernard into the small boat and watched him paddle slowly back toward the restaurant with his one good arm. Nella was pushing bottles of water around trying to make them fit back into their cubbies. They both turned when the radio crackled below.

“It’s not the normal time.” Nella frowned slightly.

“Maybe it isn’t home,” said Frank with a grin. “Maybe it’s someone new.”

They headed down into the cabin. The voice was tinny, worn thin by distance, patchy, but it was Christine’s voice nonetheless.

“Nella? Frank? Are you there?” Her voice wavered but Nella couldn’t tell if it were stress or bad reception. Frank sat at the small table while Nella fiddled with the tuner.

“Please be there. I need you,” said Christine, amid the pops and crackles of the radio.

Frank sat up. “Don’t lose the signal,” he said, his brow wrinkling.

Nella picked up the microphone. “I’m here Christine.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the voice sobbed, “you have no idea how much I needed to hear you.”

“What’s wrong? Where’s Sevita?”

“Are you coming home?” asked Christine. “I should tell you not to come home, but I have no one else to help me. There’s this kid here too—”

“The baby?” asked Nella.

“No, no, a teenager. She needed help. I can’t help her. I can’t help anyone. Nobody can.”

Nella glanced at her husband. He frowned in confusion. “Slow down, Christine. Take a deep breath. Start from the beginning.”

The radio was silent for a long moment. Nella itched to delicately nudge the tuner, thinking she’d lost reception, but she waited.

“It was that goldsmith. The one Frank and I went to see.”

Frank stood up with a jolt. “The one that was making the special pens for Dr. Pazzo?” asked Nella.

“Yes. Frank asked him about the ink, I swear he asked him. I kept him busy for ten minutes while Frank went over and over those pens. How were we to know? We couldn’t have forced him to tell us—”

Frank began pacing the small cabin, rubbing the sides of his head frantically.

“I remember,” said Nella, “it was just a trick. Something to distract us while he infected himself with the incurable version of the bacteria.”

“No, Nella,” said Christine, her voice sinking into a dull whisper, “it wasn’t a trick. The goldsmith lied. Or else he didn’t understand what we were asking. He delivered the pen to the jail a week after you left. He delivered it to Dr. Carton. The goldsmith and the nurse were the first to turn—” Christine dissolved into weeping again.

“Turn?” asked Nella faintly.

“Please come home,” begged Christine, “Sevita— Sevita is infected. Most of the city is infected.”

“No,” boomed Frank and shook his head. Nella was silent, watching him.

“Please, Nella! You’re the only one who can stop this.” Christine’s voice became more urgent, demanding.

“Me?” Nella said into the mic, “there’s no cure, Christine. I’m not a physician anyway. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Start with Ann. Ann Connelly knows. She was there. You have to make her talk. You have to get it out of her.”

“I can’t— there’s no— even if I could figure out how to repair the damage in her brain enough to find out what she knows, there’s no cure. Dr. Carton told us. There’s nothing, Christine.”

There was a long moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” said Nella into the microphone.

“Please, Nella. She’s your best friend. She’s the love of my life. She sits outside the bunker door every afternoon and talks into the intercom. Tells me she loves me, in case it’s her last chance. She’s getting slower Nella. She sounds drunk. She loses her train of thought. Every day, she still comes. Tells me not to open the door for anyone, even her. The City is falling apart around her. Yesterday she had blood on her shirt. But she still comes every day. You have to try.”

The radio fell silent again. Nella looked at Frank. “No,” he said. “No, not even for Sevita.” His eyes were red. He passed a shaky hand over his head, clutching at his own skin.

“Please,” Christine’s voice came shakily through one last time.

Nella pressed the microphone button. She let it go. She looked at her husband who shook his head in silence this time. She pressed the button again. “I’m coming, Christine. Hold on. I’m coming home.”

The radio whined and blared static. Nella turned it off, not certain Christine had heard her. She laid the microphone gently in its cradle as Frank sank on the edge of the bed.

“Why? Why are you going back? You know there’s no cure. Sevita knows there’s no cure. And if she isn’t immune, you might not be either. Or me.”

She slid her arms around him. “Because Christine is in trouble. Because my friend asked for help.”

He shook his head. “You can’t help her. There is
no cure
. All you can do is die with her. Or become— become like me.”

“We have to try. We have to find Ann. Find their notes.”

“We were at the lab. There’s nothing. She was an
intern
. An intern, Nella. Even if they had a cure, she wouldn’t know where it was. She took care of the animals, washed the glassware, took down observations. They didn’t design it to have a cure anyway.”

“She was Pazzo’s lover. If there was a cure, if there were even the hope of a cure, she knew about it. He took care of her for almost two years after he found out about the other strain. She was the only person he had to talk to, even if she couldn’t understand him at the time. He tried to save her. We both know that. If he thought of anything he would have told her. And if I can make her remember— it’s worth a try. Not just for Christine. For all those people. There’s no place left like the City, Frank. Nowhere. If anyone can be convinced of that, it ought to be us. We’ve seen it first-hand.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking. I can’t let you do this.”

Nella pulled back a little. “I know what I’m asking. But it’s not permission. I know how frightened you are of reverting to the time you were Infected. I understand. We’ll be careful— we’ll find the safest way. We’ll find suits before we get close. Ann isn’t in the City anymore. She’s out at a Nursing Home a few miles beyond the Barrier. They are self sufficient, probably no one there was even close to the City during the infectious period. Christine said she is in a bunker. We’ll find out where— she knows all the shortcuts from when she drove the ambulance. I’ll be in and out in no time. I won’t make you come.”