Suffer the Children (28 page)

Scraps of paper covered the floor. Her stuffies and dollies sat in a circle around a tea party complete with little pink cups and plates. Her Barbie laptop asked her if she wanted to play a game.

She held up a handful of hearts. “Look, Mommy.” She stood and handed them over. “Here. You can have these because I love you.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, sweetie.”

Megan hugged Mommy’s leg and kissed her knee, one, two, three. Mommy praised almost everything she did, and she never got tired of hearing it. Now she wanted to hear Mommy read her a story. She handed her a book of fairy tales. “Can you read this to me, Mommy?”

“Of course I can.”

Mommy sat up on the couch. Every little thing made her breathe like Major did after a big run. Megan settled on her lap. She knew Mommy had read the book to her a lot of times but couldn’t remember a single story in it now. Every time she woke up, she forgot a little more.

The door to the garage opened. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall.

Daddy entered the living room and grunted. “What? She’s awake.”

Megan grinned at him. “Daddeeeeeeeee!”

“I’m sorry,” Mommy said. “I needed to see her.”

Daddy sat on the easy chair and nodded. “All right.”

“I know we only have enough medicine for one more time. I gave her just a little.”

“It’s okay.”

“I needed it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like giving up. I just needed to see her again.”

“I understand, babe. I really do. I love you.”

“Aww,” said Megan.

“Don’t give up, Joanie.”

“We’re so close to the end now.”

Daddy bent down and kissed Megan on the nose. She giggled.

“Daddy!”

“Is Mommy reading you a story, princess?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “It’s a
very
great idea.”

“We Coopers don’t give up easy, do we?”

“Noooooooo.”

“Right now is all there is,” said Daddy. “Nothing else matters. Remember that.”

Mommy looked at the clock and said, “We only have—”

“I don’t want to know.”

Daddy stared at Megan with a smile on his face. She glowed at being the center of so much attention and love, without Nate hogging it all. “What about my story?”

“How about we read about Sleeping Beauty again?” Mommy asked her.

“I don’t know that one.”

“Of course you do. It’s one of your favorite stories.”

Megan shrugged. She couldn’t remember the story, but it sounded good. She nuzzled deeper into Mommy’s lap while Mommy read aloud the tale of a beautiful princess cursed by a mean fairy. The princess was going to sleep forever. Only a handsome prince, helped by three good fairies, could break the curse and wake her up with the kiss of true love.

Mommy indulged every
Why?
that Megan could come up with. Daddy took pictures as if they were having a birthday party, not story time.

“Don’t, Doug,” Mommy said. “I look terrible.”

Megan said, “No, you look beautiful, Mommy.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m like Sleeping Beauty. Sleeping Beauty is like me, right?”

“That’s why I read it to you, sweetie,” Mommy told her.

“Because I go to sleep so much.”

“That’s right.”

Megan grinned. “And I’m a rascal.”

Mommy made a show of studying the book. “I don’t see
that
in the story.”

“But that’s okay. I love you, so you’ll kiss me and wake me up, and we’ll get married.”

“You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you? You’re a pretty smart rascal.”

“But what if the prince didn’t come and kiss her?” Megan wondered. “What would happen? Would she have to sleep forever and ever?”

Mommy hugged her. Megan bathed in the warmth. “There’s no chance of that, honey. He has to kiss her. It’s fate.”

Daddy choked back a sob. Megan looked at him, wide-eyed, as he lowered the camera and cried. Daddy never cried. He sometimes pretended to bawl to make her laugh. But this wasn’t pretend.

“Don’t be sad, Daddy.”

Daddy wiped his eyes and smiled. “I’m okay. I’m crying because I’m happy I have you.”

“Daddy, I love—”

Megan’s head tilted to the side as the headache came. The big old stupid headache that came every time she had to go to sleep. Her vision constricted, darker and darker at the edges, until it became a distant point of intense bright light.

Don’t give up, Daddy.

She bit down on Mommy’s arm, making her scream.

36 days after Resurrection

Doug contemplated a row of Dumpsters stacked against the rear of a tall white building.

Mercy Hospital produced about three tons of garbage every day, and it all flowed through these Dumpsters. Sharps, body fluids, lab waste, surgical specimens, animal carcasses, common waste.

And blood.

Lots and lots of blood. Enough to keep his kids alive for days. Maybe weeks. It was all there on the other side of this chain-link fence. No protection, no surveillance.

For once, his knowledge of garbage had given him an edge over everybody else.

Or so he’d thought.

In theory, the blood was easy to get. The hospital put the infectious waste into bright red bags. Later, it was burned in the incinerator. Above fourteen hundred degrees, nothing survived. The ash came out germ-free and ready for the landfill.

Until then, the bags piled up in these Dumpsters. Lots of bags.

Over the past five weeks since Herod’s changed the world, Doug
had learned the rules of the game. The first thing he’d learned: It was rigged against him.

He didn’t care anymore if his kids drank blood like vampires. So what. Hell, they could drink cat piss and malt liquor for all he cared, as long as it kept them alive.

The problem was that a pint brought Nate and Megan back for about an hour, and over the past month, he and Joan had exhausted every drop they’d been able to squeeze from family and friends. The well of charity was running dry for everybody. As it did, people grew desperate. Those who had money could buy it. Those who didn’t had to get it another way. It wasn’t every man for himself, not quite. It was every man for his family.

It wasn’t just about wanting to see their children. The kids had an expiration date. If they didn’t get blood, they simply rotted until the Herod parasite itself died. Then they’d never wake up again for all the blood in the world. He’d heard enough stories to believe this was true.

So this morning, Doug had called in sick. Otis chewed him out by saying the trash didn’t pick itself up, and he had guys either calling in sick or outright missing across the board, but Doug didn’t care. If his kids weren’t alive, there wasn’t much point to working. The garbage could pile up in mountains for all he cared. So he’d pulled on his yellow hazmat suit and driven to the hospital to do some real providing for his family.

Then . . . nothing. All that blood just sitting there, but he hadn’t made a move in an hour. Instead, he’d nipped at his flask and plowed through half a pack of Winstons. Pissed off, he wanted to punch something. Put his fist through a wall.

Three tons was a lot of garbage. Most of it was in red bags. He’d have to sift through thousands of pounds of scalpels, needles, and rags soaked with diseased shit and vomit, all to locate vials of blood that might itself carry dangerous diseases.

In theory, the blood was easy to get. In practice, not so much. His brilliant idea had turned out to be not so brilliant after all.

Joan hadn’t let him give more than a pint of his own. She said he needed to stay strong and provide. That made him the family reserve
tank. He could give another two or three pints. After that, they were done. Time to say good-bye.

Unless he decided to give it all to them. A big guy like him had maybe twelve pints of sweet red syrup in his body. There was always that option.

That, or take it from somebody else.

“It won’t work,” a voice said behind him.

He wheeled. Three men stood at the edge of the parking lot. Their faces were pale and drawn from blood loss. Fathers like him.

“I work here,” Doug said.

“No, you don’t,” one of the men said. “And your idea won’t work.”

“We’ve been watching you watching those Dumpsters half the morning,” said a second man. “Wondering if you were onto something.”

“Even if you could get at it, you couldn’t use it,” the first man said.

“HIV,” said Doug. “Other diseases.”

“That, and they dilute the blood with bleach before they throw it out. If they even throw it out anymore. Somebody’s probably selling it.”

Doug nodded and lit a cigarette. “It was a stupid idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. Name’s Russell. This is Carl, and this is Howard. You are?”

“Doug.”

“You know, Doug, there’s another way to get blood if that’s what you want.”

“No way,” said Howard. “He’s drunk. I can smell it on him.”

“He’s also wearing a hazmat suit,” Russell answered. “That was smart. I used to work here. A guy in a hazmat suit can go almost anywhere he wants without a hassle. Everybody just assumes he’s on official business. Cleaning up some spill.”

“I don’t know.” Howard rubbed the back of his neck. “This is getting out of control.”

“Don’t chicken out now,” Carl said. “I say we let him in for an even share.”

“I haven’t agreed to shit, if you hadn’t noticed,” Doug told them.

“If we tell you, and you say no, you can’t rat on us. That’s the deal.”

“I don’t care if you tell me or you don’t. But I don’t rat on people.”

“Mercy is a campus,” said Russell. “This building is the main hospital.” He turned and pointed. “See that smaller building over there?”

Doug spat on the ground. “Yup.”

“That’s the blood bank.”

His stomach flipped. “How much you think is in there?”

“I’m guessing three, maybe four hundred units.”

“What’s that in pints?”

“About the same.”

Doug snorted. “Mother lode.”

“The trick is we don’t know what kind of protection they’ve got set up,” said Carl. “Normally, they don’t guard it. But these days, who knows?”

“That’s where you come in,” Russell said.

“You want me to do what, exactly?”

“Help us get in. Help us get out.”

They were looking for muscle. Doug studied the men, looking for a reason to say no. So far, only Russell inspired any confidence. He was tall, blond, and clean-shaven, and appeared to be the brains of the outfit. Brains in search of brawn. Howard and Carl were medium build, middle-aged, and overweight. A bowling team playing at being criminals. Typical suburban dads who wanted their kids back. Just like Doug.

Nate and Megan scared him when they were dead. He couldn’t sleep at night. He pictured them bursting into the room with their grinning dead faces, singing,
Daddy, come play with us.
He wanted them to live. He and Joan had pushed their donors to get as much blood as possible and, as a result, had enjoyed twenty-three hours with their children. Twenty-three beautiful, ordinary hours that had slipped through his fingers, as time does.

The alternative was to let them stay dead. Take them back to the burial ground.

“You got any guns?” he asked the men.

“You know how to shoot?” Russell countered.

“Yup. I got some shotguns at home.”

“We’re not using guns for this.”

Howard dropped his duffel bag and unzipped it. “This is everything.” A baseball bat, crowbar, and golf club. He eyed Doug. “Are you willing to do what it takes?”

Doug laughed. “Are you?”

“It doesn’t matter if we’re brave or cowards,” Russell said. “None of us are what we were before. I know each of you will do whatever it takes to protect his kids.”

The others nodded.

“Even murder?” said Doug.

“We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that,” Howard told him.

Doug shook his head.
They don’t get it.
“If we take all the blood, people won’t get transfusions, right? If they don’t get transfusions, they’ll die, right?”

Howard looked like he wanted to wander off somewhere to puke. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“I do. That’s what will happen. How many will die?”

“Could be a lot,” said Russell. He’d obviously considered it. “Especially for the emergency operations, where people show up and need blood fast.”

“We don’t have to take all of it,” Carl offered. “We could just take some.”

“This place uses up to six hundred units in a single day,” Russell said. “Leaving some might make you feel better, but it won’t go near to helping those who need it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Carl said. “Yeah, there are sick people who need it. Well, you know what? I’ve got two little ones at home who are sick too, and they’ll die without it. Really die. If it’s them or my kids who’s got to do without, well, it’s going to be them.”

Russell turned to Howard. “What about you?”

“I’m with you. If sick people come in here needing blood, they can
get people to donate it like the rest of us. We have to look after our own.” He looked at Doug. “Right?”

Doug nodded. He understood all too well. He thought about Joan crying as he wrapped Nate and Megan in plastic and put them in the garage three nights ago, when the last of their meager blood supply had been used up. After she’d sobbed herself to sleep later that night, Doug had done a terrible thing. His mind reeling with alcoholic despair, he’d gone out to the garage, taken down his sledgehammer, and visited Major’s kennel.

He’d killed his dog and strung him up with ropes. Cut his throat and drained the blood.

Only afterward did he realize the horror of what he’d done.

Major had been a constant companion on many a hike and hunting trip. He’d watched over Doug’s children when they were babies. He was one of Doug’s only real friends in the world. Every time Doug saw the old dog’s face in his mind’s eye, he’d take another drink to make it stop, like a morbid drinking game. Right up to the end, Major had trusted him.