The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) (28 page)

They started picking up stragglers the next morning. Never more than one or two at a time. Some had come willingly, hearing the broadcast and hoping to receive the Cure, they’d changed course, returning home. Others had been turned away from group after group and realizing they had nowhere else to go, had turned around again. It troubled Vincent that he couldn’t tell if there were Immunes among them. He couldn’t turn them away if they were. If he told them of the quarantine camp, he risked the Colony again and undermined the story of having found a cure even more than it already was. He hoped they were all sick, for their own sakes, but few were showing symptoms. His own group wasn’t so lucky, three more had started stumbling after breakfast. Father Preston had disappeared with the sprayer again, early that morning and collected a few more travelers, squeezing them into the cab or perched on the top of the sprayer, so that when they finally reached camp, they numbered almost thirty again, and Vincent began to have doubts about being able to control them. They were still two days away from the City and Frank and Nella would be slipping away that night. He’d be alone again.

The day was hot and dry, the cicadas song throbbed in the air around them. It was not a good day for the weaker set. It wasn’t even noon before the first attack. The camp had separated again, the healthy quickly outpacing the others again, except for the few that stayed to aid their fellows. More stopped to help than the day before, the sad confrontation at the camp having had some effect on the conscience of a few. Vincent was kneeling next to a man who had fallen, feeding him a few sips of water when it happened. The tail of the group had almost passed them, when one of the women stopped. She stood in the center of the road, swaying slightly. Vincent looked up at her. “Are you all right?” he asked. She didn’t answer, turning slowly in a circle as if looking for something. “Wendy? Did you lose something?” Something sparked as he called her by name. She stopped and turned slowly toward him. Vincent helped the other man to his feet.

“Are you thirsty, Wendy?” he asked holding the water bottle out hesitantly. The other man shambled slowly away toward the others as Wendy just stared at him. Vincent took a step toward her. “Is it the sun? We can walk in the shade in a moment or two, there’s a little wooded area ahead. It will be nice and cool.” He reached for her hand to lead her, and that’s when she snapped. There was no warning growl or shriek, no snarling expression, she just sprang at him, knocking him flat on his back in the dusty road. The water bottle skittered away as it flew from his hand. The woman scraped at his face with her fingers as her mouth opened. He could hear the muscles in her jaw creak as she opened wider and wider and pushed down toward him.

“Remember yourself,” he begged, holding her arms back with his hands, her face still darting perilously close to his. She drooled with a gurgle in her throat. “Wendy, fight it,” he said. She lunged forward, closing her teeth on his ear. Vincent shouted and shoved her to the side. She rolled off him and he leapt up, but she followed close behind. He fumbled with the blade in his belt, the side of his face splattered with blood and collecting dust. He could hear footsteps running toward them. She’d attack whatever she could reach. Whoever was coming didn’t know what they were running into. He flung up an arm as she sprang at him again and her teeth tore into the tough skin of his forearm. His other hand freed the blade. He shook her off and held the large knife in front of him. “Please, Wendy, don’t make me—” but she leaped at him again, and the knife crunched through her ribs with a jarring thud as her momentum carried her farther and farther onto it. Vincent tried to take a step back but it was too late. Wendy was still flailing, grabbing for him even as she panted, her chest gaping and clenching around the blade.

“Forgive me,” said Vincent, and felt a hand on the hilt of the blade. Nella took it gently from him, holding Wendy’s shoulder, she twisted and then pulled, leaving a large hole that quickly foamed with a pink froth. Wendy staggered backward, gasping faster as she did, stumbling until she fell into the dirt. Nella knelt beside her and covered her nose and mouth with both of her hands, pressing even as she whipped her head sideways.

“Don’t—” cried Vincent.

Nella gritted her teeth for a second before speaking. “If I don’t it will take her another ten minutes to suffocate on her own blood. Terrified and in pain.” Wendy’s thrashing became frenzied and she tried to pull Nella’s arm away. She kicked and then slowed. she kept her hands over Wendy’s face until several seconds after she’d stopped and the foam on her chest started sinking away. “She won’t wake up now,” Nella said grimly, “she won’t feel it anymore.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent, but his voice was emotionless. Nella rose and began digging in her pack.

“We need to take care of those wounds,” she said, pulling out what was left of their first aid kit. They sat in the grass on the side of the road while Nella cleaned the bites. Vincent watched a dark stream of Wendy’s blood roll down the gravel and sink into the dust.

“What do we do with her?” he asked.

“If we stop to bury her, the others will turn back to see what’s happened to us,” said Nella.

“We can’t leave her here. It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not. Her body would also be contagious for a while. We’ll have to carry her to camp. We can bury her or cremate her when we get there.”

“Is anyone else— close?”

Nella shook her head. “I don’t think so, not any closer than this morning. But it’s hard to tell. Frank is with them, though. He knows what has to be done. I will carry her for a while. You need to let your wounds start to heal.”

Vincent shook his head. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I will carry my own burdens.”

Nella took his hand in hers. “Father, you didn’t kill her. A bacteria did. We were just witnesses.”

“But—”

“If it wasn’t the knife,” said Nella, “It would have been exposure in a few nights or thirst or starvation or falling off something high— she couldn’t take care of herself. It’s not your fault, and it’s not your burden. And if we don’t start sharing our troubles,
none
of us are going to make it to the City and none of the people we left behind will be safe. Let us help you, while we can.”

Vincent nodded slowly and they got to their feet. Nella picked up the woman’s body and draped it over her shoulders, thanking her luck that the road was relatively flat. She was relieved when they finally caught up to Frank and he lifted the woman from her for a turn. The expressions of the others upon seeing the woman’s body ranged from dull acceptance to fear but nobody asked about her or what happened, they just trudged along, sweating and stumbling in the afternoon sun. Nella kept an eye on Vincent, but except for an occasional itch at a bandage, he seemed okay.

She took the body back just before they reached the camp, the air finally cooling as the sun rolled behind the trees. She and Frank came over a small ridge, the last of the travelers and down into the same gas station where they had slept twice before. She was surprised to see how many extra people had gathered around the sprayer, but she didn’t have long to stare. Some of them challenged her, told her to drop the body, demanded that she find a place to wash before coming near them. Frank pulled her in close to him and walked her through the camp. She could feel his arms tighten and the scar on his cheek pulsed. She knew he was ready for a fight. But they drew close to the tire pit and the others let them pass. Together, they found the spot where they had buried three other Infected beneath the tires. Vincent brought them a soup can of gas he’d taken from the sprayer’s supply. Frank dumped it over the tires and lit it.

“Meant to do this months ago,” he said grimly. He looked up and found the pit surrounded by the others. “Most of you were Immune before,” he said loudly, “didn’t care what happened to the Infected outside the Barrier. Didn’t much care what happened to ‘em inside the Barrier either. But you’re starting to know now, what happened to us. Who we were. Why we should have mattered more to you. I wouldn’t have wished this on my worst enemy. We tried to stop it, Nella and I. We
tried
and we failed. I’m sorry this is happening to you. To
us
. This woman’s life mattered to someone. The people we buried here this spring mattered to someone.
You
matter to someone. Fighting each other is only going to make you turn faster. Show some compassion. We’re
all
dying. Every one of us. It isn’t a race. Help each other reach the— the Cure. That’s the only way you’ll get there.”

Nella pulled him gently away from the smoky flames and they helped Vincent back up the steep slope to the store. There was no talk of separation that night. The smoke was heavy and oily and foul, a thick recrimination with every breath. They had no energy to argue and Vincent sat with Nella and Frank in the shadow of the empty gas pumps watching them.

“More will turn. Tonight and tomorrow. The next day too, before we reach the boat. How will you manage?” asked Frank.

Vincent shook his head. “I’m not even certain how I would have managed today. I will be ready, next time.”

Nella opened her pack. She pulled out the pistol and a box of bullets. “Maybe this would be easier,” she said, placing them in front of his bent knees.

“I don’t know anything about guns,” he said. “With a knife I can’t miss. Not really. And what if you needed it? I don’t know what you will face once you get to the City docks. No, I have trusted in the goodness of people so far, I will continue to believe in that until I no longer can. If the worst happens— Father Preston knows what the sprayer can do. If we don’t meet you at the docks, you will know that we had to do it early.” He handed Nella a large pack instead. “There are two suits in here and two cans of the pesticide. In case. I hope we will be able to do it all, but Amos thought it would take more than us. I will find you if I am able.” He stopped and Nella repacked the pistol and arranged the suits and cans within her pack.

Vincent put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I just want to thank you again for curing me. Us. From where you’re sitting it must seem pretty pointless now. I wanted you to know that every day of sanity I’ve had since you found us has been a gift. Even ending the way it will. I’d do it all over again if I had the choice.”

“I wish we’d been friends long before now,” whispered Nella.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help? Anything we can leave with you to make it easier? Maybe we should stay. Find another way,” said Frank.

Vincent shook his head. “This way is best. We need you there at the docks to make sure we finish. And to carry any Immunes away. There must be a few. They need an escape. Someplace safe they can wait out quarantine. Your job is to give us hope. It’s more important than you know.”

Nella shouldered her pack. “We
will
see you at the dock, Father. Three days.”

Frank stood up. “Good luck,” he said sticking out his hand. Vincent shook it.

“To you as well.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “I hope that Gray is long gone, but if you should see him— Molly was dear to me. They all are, back there. Don’t let him hurt any more of them.”

Frank nodded. He slid an arm around Nella’s waist and they slipped through the shadows into the forest across the road, seen only by Vincent in the cloudy, moonless night.

Thirty-six

Nella clung to Frank in the dark, the heavy pack overwhelming her balance and the roots underfoot threatening to send her flying every third step.

“I know you hate this,” he whispered. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll turn on the lantern. I just want to be sure we’re out of sight.”

“I’m okay,” she lied. Her hands were sweating and she knew he could tell that she was nervous.

“In a few days, we’ll be back at the boat with the stars all around us.”

She smiled. It was the closest thing to a plan he’d said in weeks. She tripped and went sprawling into the dirt. He groped for her in the dark and helped her sit up.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said spitting a pine needle from her lips. “But I can’t see anything.”

He reached over her back and pulled out the lantern lighting it between them. She brushed off her hands in the bright electric glow and gently picked crumbling leaves from her hair. The harsh light drew deep shadows in his eye sockets and etched lines into his gaunt cheeks. She cupped his chin in her hands. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she said.

“I can’t. How could I? I’d miss time with you. Time I’ll never have again.”

“You
must
sleep. It will only bring the disease on faster if you don’t.”

He pulled her into a clumsy hug, trying to hold her around the massive pack. “It isn’t fair. Any of it.”

“No, but it’s happening anyway. And we have to get through it. As well as we can. So you must sleep.”

“A few more feet, we’re almost to the Barrier. It’ll be cleared for a way around it.” He picked her up and then the lantern.

They walked on for a while, the silence heavy and unbroken except for the soft hum of the electric lantern. Then a breeze rippled through the trees around them and a flickering shower of early gold leaves fluttered around them. Frank plucked one from his shoulder and stopped to look at it. “There were so many things I wanted to share with you,” he said, his voice hoarse and quiet. He crushed the leaf in his fist. “I should have known that jeweler was lying. I should have known he would fall for whatever lie Pazzo told him. I fell for them too. How could I expect anyone else not to?”