The Cured (19 page)

It was midwinter, the snow outside the leaky thatched shelter a crunching shell dirty with soot and muck from the Infected that trod in it. A bonfire was all that kept them from freezing to death. Henry’s clothes were little more than rags, a worn second skin of mud and dried gore with bits of cloth stuck in by mistake. He hadn’t been fed in days and he howled and roared any time someone passed too close to the fence or came into the pen to break the ice off of the water trough, their smell throwing him into a frenzy. That night, Henry was stretched as far as his chain allowed, straining toward the fire, choking himself with his collar in a futile attempt to get warm. At last his eyes caught something moving past the flames. It was Marnie, sitting inside the pen, watching him. Henry growled and tried to lunge farther. Marnie stood up. Not a little girl any more. Thirteen, skinny and quick, far more clever than her parents, more even than Henry had been. She survived first because her mother protected her from the cruel caprice of Phil and his men. Later, after Elizabeth had gone, she was old enough to learn how to stay out of the way. She survived on the edges of the camp, unnoticed by anyone but her father. She watched Henry lunging at her, standing still, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She waited until Henry slipped in the mud at his feet and fell face down, his arms still stretched toward her trying to grab. Then she leapt onto his back, holding his head still with one arm. Henry was weak, mostly starved and very slow. She was younger, faster and better fed. It wasn’t hard to hold him. He lay on his stomach, one ear in the mud, still snapping his teeth at her, though she was well out of reach.

She leaned over him, her small white face just an inch or two from his cheek. “They got Dad today, Henry,” she said softly. She was close enough that he could hear her even over the snuffle and growl that came from him. “There’s no more food. Not for miles. Dad was supposed to do a supply run, but he came back empty. There’s nothing left. Phil threw him into the front pen. I should be grateful that Dad was already dead when he got thrown in.” Warm water trickled down Henry’s cheek and evaporated from his skin. Marnie was crying. “He threw one of the women he uses– one of the Infected he pulled all the teeth from, he threw her into the pen alive at the same time. Said he was going to start feeding the deadweight to his guard dogs. That means people like me, Henry. The older people, the sick people. The babies. I can’t let it happen. You’re all I have left Henry. But I have to let you go. I can’t let this happen any more, the fragile people are all inside, safely tucked away. Phil’s men are drunk. They split Dad’s supplies that he had left and had a party. You’re the last one to free. I wanted to give you a fighting chance. Some of them must have escaped the front pen by now and I let the others from here out earlier, without any noise. I didn’t want you to get shot. Find the Cure Henry. I wish I could take better care of you. Remember your promise. I’m sorry I have to use you like this. Don’t leave any of them alive.”

Henry heard the chain clank against the wooden post as it fell away from his neck. The pressure on his back was lifted and he sprang up, but Marnie was already gone, disappearing over the back of the wooden fence. Henry wasted no time looking for her, but ran for where the smell of food was strongest. The rest of the night was heat and blood as the Infected chased their old masters through the thick woods and at last collapsed near their bodies after eating their fill. But Henry didn’t dream that part. He woke up with Marnie’s soft voice in his ear, “Remember your promise.”

He was surrounded by the others, packed too closely to slip away. Where would he go anyway? Henry realized he only had a vague idea of where the camp was. His escape had been a frenzied blur of biting and running through winter woods. Henry lay back down. There was no knowing if Marnie was even still there. Maybe she’d led the people she was protecting somewhere safer. Maybe Phil had caught her. Maybe she was dead. Was he really going to spend weeks or months on a futile search for someone who had most likely been shot or starved to death months ago? What did she really expect him to do? What did he really expect himself to do? Henry closed his eyes. He had tried to leave when he knew he was sick. He’d tried to protect them. He didn’t owe them anything. He was ill. Not in control. Even the priest had said that.

But then there was Phil. Henry had tried to tell himself that even without Phil there, Dave and Elizabeth didn’t have what was necessary to survive. In his heart Henry wondered though. If they’d kept quiet, if they’d never picked Henry up from his apartment, they might have made it until a bigger group of people picked them up. It was Henry that saved Phil. It was Henry that brought him into the house and didn’t question his “accident” or anything else for that matter. And it was because of Henry that Phil got the idea to use the Infected around him to terrorize his neighbors, his enemies, and his own camp members. It was because of Henry that Elizabeth went for the Cure and died. And he had promised her he would take care of Marnie. Somewhere, in the deep, quiet part of his mind, the part that was still him even at his worst, the part that remembered what he’d seen and done, that part had promised Elizabeth that he wouldn’t leave Marnie to Phil and his men. It was no use debating with himself. Henry already knew he would spend the rest of this borrowed lifetime trying to find her or what happened to her, this little girl who had grown into a stranger long before she released him. It had been decided years ago. And when he found Phil… the better part of him hoped Phil was already dead. Henry was secretly afraid of what his own soul was capable of doing. He drifted off again, chasing the vague memory of the roads to the Lodge.

Twenty-three

It was harder to slip out of the hotel in the morning than it had been to get in unseen the night before. The courtyard seemed to be an impromptu marketplace in the morning. Rickey suggested they simply blend into the crowd, but one look in the locker room mirrors told them all that there could be no blending in. It was obvious that they had been ill, that they were starving. And starving meant they looked desperate. Desperate was dangerous for everyone. The people in the courtyard were thin and their goods few and mostly broken, but they weren’t starving and they were each conspicuously armed. Melissa and Vincent spent the morning peering through a small crack in the doors, watching the crowd. Rickey turned the television back on until Molly forced him to shut it off, terrified the sound would draw others. Pam kept packing and repacking all the gear, scared they would leave some trace behind. Henry was a little relieved that they couldn’t start yet, still struggling with everything that lay ahead. He studied Melissa’s route, trying to see how far they were from the City’s borders. If they didn’t make any more detours for extra supplies, they might make it that evening or sometime tomorrow morning. Henry realized he didn’t like the idea of spending another night outside of the City’s protection. Regardless of what that protection might cost. He sighed and folded the map, trying not to dwell on all the future nights he’d be spending out here looking for Marnie.

He got up and went to the door, tapping Vincent on the shoulder. He pulled the door open a crack and peered through. The courtyard was full of people, but no one was looking inside. All the activity was going on out there. Someone had made a massive bonfire on the concrete patio. The smoke was blowing their direction, concealing them for a few moments. “Let’s go,” said Henry and slid himself and his bike through the door. He didn’t wait to see if the others followed, just wheeled the bicycle to the exterior door, unlocked it, and rolled out into the midmorning sun. The crackled, weedy parking lot was empty. The market people must have been entering from the front. Henry rode the bike down the back lot and back onto the road toward the old highway. He tried to make himself go slowly, to look like he belonged, just a guy going home from market. He hoped he looked normal from a distance.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he pedaled up the on ramp of the highway. The others spread in a long line behind him. Henry smiled, relieved he wasn’t alone. He turned back to the road. It was immediately clear that this road, unlike the others they’d taken, had been maintained, at least for a while. Mostly tarred, and absent of abandoned vehicles, the highway was a smooth ashy ribbon in the morning light. The wind made a comforting silence in his ears. Henry felt as if he could ride for miles. But they were still weak, underfed and exhausted. They had to stop several times to rest and eat. It stayed warm and quiet. The open air seemed to have lifted their spirits, the marshy green smell of young grass pushing through the mud and the occasional sweet chorus of frogs in nearby ponds and ditches made Henry suddenly realize that he was happy. He wasn’t frenzied or scared, his stomach was full and he had no serious injuries. He was free of the pen and headed for a better life. Even if it were one of constant travel and searching. It was still better.

He fell back near the others as the sun sank and the tar became a dark, cold river cutting through the trees. They hadn’t had a view yet of the City, the trees had overgrown the median and shoulders, even though someone had cut a few back. But just as the trees were swallowing up the last of the day, the road took a turn and Henry stopped. They were at the top of a long hill and below them the City was just beginning to flicker and pulse with light. It was shocking, after so long in the dark, to see that electric gold spilling everywhere. Henry felt alien and primitive, as if he were witnessing the discovery of fire. He could see the ocean, a great dark emptiness beyond the tiny harbor lights. Around the City was a massive black barrier. The highway led directly to the lone gate in the wall, which was brightly lit, though not very welcoming. Henry wasn’t sure whether it was meant to make him feel safer or more frightened of what lay outside the walls. Or both.

Henry put one foot back on its pedal and leaned forward to take off. Rickey grabbed the handlebars. “No way. No fucking way. I’m not going down there. Look at it. It’s a prison.” Henry stared at him. Then he shrugged.

“Okay. Don’t come.”

Rickey didn’t let go of Henry’s bike. “Come on, we can make a life out here, all of us. We’ll find a farm. Hell, there was enough leftover stuff in that suburb to last until we can figure out the whole garden thing. We don’t need them.” He waved his arm at the City’s barrier. “They don’t want us anyway.”

Pam wheeled her bike up to them. “My family might be down there. I want to see them again. And I’m tired of being scared and hungry and cold all the time. If seeing my kids means I have to live by a few rules, work a little harder, that’s okay. Sorry, Rickey.” She got on her bike and started rolling down the hill.

Rickey turned to look at the rest of them. “Well, what about it? We’ve got no one waiting for us down there. We can make a good life out here.”

Molly shook her head. “Maybe you’re right Rickey, maybe we could be okay for a while. But someone’s going to get sick or hurt eventually. Or raiders are going to come along and take everything. Or the City’s soldiers will. I’m not as naïve as you think, but I’d still rather be on their side than against them. I don’t want to die because I poked myself with a rusty can opener or because we’re trying to defend a small stockpile of old cans. I’m not cut out for this. I just got lucky that I made it this far. We all did. I don’t want to rely on luck anymore. I’m with Pam.”

They watched Molly disappear down the dark hill. Rickey turned to Henry, becoming desperate. “You owe me. You owe us. I heard you, it’s because of you that we were kept by Phil and his men–”

Vincent put a hand on Rickey’s shoulder. “Henry is no more to blame for what happened to us than we are to blame for what we did while we were sick. Whether he believes it or not. In fact, as awful as the pens were, we probably wouldn’t have survived as long as we have without them.”

“C’mon Rickey,” said Melissa, “You really want to stay out here? What’s out here? You’ll struggle the whole time. There’s electricity in there. Food, medicine. Maybe some cigarettes and beer.” She grinned, her teeth flashing in the dusk, “Definitely a wider variety of ‘broads’ as you’d say. If we don’t like it, we can leave.”

Rickey turned toward her. “How do you know? What if we’re walking into a trap? What if people like us are slaves down there?”

Melissa sighed. “I’m sure Vincent would tell you to trust in the better nature of people, but I know you won’t. The truth is, I don’t think there are actually enough immune people left to make us slaves.”

A flicker of doubt woke in Henry’s mind at that. But he stayed quiet. Rickey still looked doubtful. Vincent shook his head. “You have to take a chance sometimes Rickey. You can’t live up on the top of this hill and wonder forever.” He got back on his bike and rode down the hill with Melissa, leaving Henry and Rickey alone on the chilly dark road.

“I know what I owe you Rickey. I know what I’ve done and I’m not as sure as Vincent that surviving is really the better alternative. But I made a promise before I met any of you. I know you don’t understand it, you think I’m crazy or have some other motive. I owe someone else more. And to help her, I have to go down there and get help. If it’s as bad as you think, I’ll help you get out, somehow. We can’t stay here Rickey, we’re sick, starving. We wouldn’t even be able to plow a field if we knew how. We have to try this first. Let them fatten us up. Then we’ll do what we both need to do.” Rickey’s hand dropped away from Henry’s handlebars. Henry looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t want to leave you alone out here. But if you make me, then I will.”

Rickey was quiet for a moment. He anchored himself on his bike and looked down at the electric glow of the City. “Shit,” he said at last, “I’m out of cigarettes. Might as well run to the store while I’m here.”