Gray (Book 3) (22 page)

Medicinal? No, not a category in any of them. Abortion? No. Miscarriage? No. What about coughs or cold or fever? She found “feverfew,” and flipped back to skim the information on that herb, which sounded quite useful, but she didn’t have it. She tried the names of the herbs that Chef had on hand. Parsley. Oregano. Sage. Those were all in the indexes. One by one, she read up on them, moving from book to book, skipping over the hints on growing them, looking for information on what they might do beyond flavoring food.

In a half-hour, she had a mental list. Most herbs had medical uses, it seemed. And three kitchen herbs might be useful in triggering a miscarriage: Parsley, sage, and tarragon. Chef didn’t have tarragon, but he had the other two. The real prize of herbal abortifacients was something called pennyroyal, which Coral had never heard of and didn’t sound like a kitchen herb but an herb grown for tea. Parsley and sage were said to be good for making menses regular, and that was as close as she was likely to come to an abortifacient drug.

What she liked about trying this was that she couldn’t see that any serious harm would come to Abigail if it failed. She could make a strong tea of parsley and sage at the clinic and have her drink it every hour all night, and see if something happened. If it did, she’d be there to help her through it. If not, probably no harm would have been done—except to Chef’s menu plans.

She wouldn’t be able to simply commandeer the herbs. Chef would balk at that. She needed an order of some sort from Levi. She went out and found Benjamin leaning against the wall, listening intently. Trying not to startle him, she said, softly, “Hey.”

He jerked away from the wall and went to her, bent, and whispered. “They are arguing. You were right.”

She whispered back. “Over what?”

“Food. But I could only catch phrases here and there.”

“They probably are keeping the discussion quieter, knowing we’re around.”

“Maybe. Did you find what you want?”

“Yeah. But now I need Levi to give me an executive order or something, to pry some herbs out of Chef. All of them, if I can get them. Three out of the four he has can double as medicine.”

“Let me wander away, and you knock on the door.” He went back into the stacks again, and Coral rapped sharply on the door.

When she explained her request to Levi, she was surprised when he began shaking his head. “Chef needs those.”

“But it’s just flavoring.” She was surprised to hear him question her. “For him, it’s an option. For a patient, it could make a difference.”

“Could some spice really save a life?”

“Possibly. What if I have to do abdominal surgery one day, and I can calm someone’s nausea and keep them from tearing out stitches when they vomit? You never know.”

He tapped a pen on his desk and stared at the ceiling. “Christ,” he said. Then he let out a heavy sigh. “You can’t have all of them. Make do with a quarter of them.”

She wanted to argue but decided not to. She would be here for less than a week. She needed enough herbs to treat Abigail, and then, whatever happened in the clinic would no longer be her business. “I only can use three, anyway.” She named them.

Levi dashed off a quick note. “Anything else?”

“Any news on Parnell and Doug?”

He shook his head and handed the note over.

“Thanks. Someone will come to get Abigail if they show up, right?”

“Yes.” The two men were staring at her, obviously wanting her to leave so they could go back to their discussion.

“Thanks again,” she said, and left, collecting Benjamin at the head of the stairs.

Chef was gone from the kitchen already. Only the helpers were there, cleaning up. She’d have to catch him before breakfast.

She and Benjamin went for a walk, keeping well away from other people so they could talk freely.

“Do you think anyone will try and stop us from leaving? If they find out?” she asked.

“Maybe. They won’t want to lose you.”

“It won’t hurt them all that much when I go. Mostly I stand there and say that there’s nothing I can do for anybody. Without diagnostic equipment, without drugs, without a lab, mostly I’m nursing. Edith is better at that than I am.”

“There was Julie’s operation.”

“Anyone in town who’d dressed game could have made a clean cut, including you.”

He flinched. “I wouldn’t want to.”

“I don’t want to again, either. But anyway, tell me what you’ve found, and let’s decide when to leave. I want a couple days to help Abigail, but any time after that is good.”

They walked through the campus, making turns to avoid other people. Some children were playing outside one apartment building, throwing snowballs and shrieking. They saw a couple kissing in another doorway. Others were hurrying home, bundled up against the cold.

She and Benjamin discussed getting some of the MREs without anyone seeing. It had to be done right before they left, in case there was any sort of daily inventory. Somehow, Coral could come up with some need for an imaginary patient, something, right at the end of the evening, when the last of the dishes were being washed. Benjamin would come too, and while she had the attention of the kitchen workers, Benjamin could snatch a half-dozen of the meals. Or he’d be the distraction and she’d do the stealing, however it worked out.

A half-dozen MREs would keep them on their feet, marching hard, for two days. Benjamin thought he could steal a flashlight. They would leave at night, sneak past the perimeter guards, walk as far as they could in a few hours in the dark, using the flashlight, hole up somewhere an hour or two after dawn, eat, and sleep for a time before getting up later in the day, checking for pursuit, and going on when it was safe. If they could wait for snow, that would help erase their tracks. But even if the weather didn’t cooperate, with any luck, no one would know they were gone until breakfast.

With the MREs, they didn’t have to stop to fish or even to find fuel for two days. The packaged meals had a device that warmed water.

Both of them were in good shape right now. They were by no means overfed, but they were rested. Benjamin’s gunshot wound had healed nicely. He’d always have a pair of scars, but that was a small price to pay for getting away from the cult. Coral hoped they wouldn’t pay a similar price for escaping the city.

They weren’t carefully guarded here. It was possible that if they announced they were leaving, no one would stop them. But experience had been a strict teacher, and they weren’t going to risk letting their plans be known.

Benjamin had seen the maps the city’s leadership kept another few times since that morning they’d talked about the possible locations of the Army guys. He had a good memory for maps and he’d seen where the Boise scavenging teams had been already. There were roads leading out of town to the west that hadn’t been explored, not having enough population or stores to bother with. That’s where they’d head. They’d aim for a pair of lakes, he said, the first one near, the second one much larger but remote, up in elevation another thousand feet.

She’d leave the navigating to him.

Another priority was ammunition for his rifle. She couldn’t help him there, and he admitted to not knowing how to get any. Neither one of them thought it was a good idea to attack perimeter guards for their weapons. No one had hurt them here, and if they didn’t hurt anyone on their way out, maybe they’d be left alone.

By the time they got back to Abigail and Doug’s apartment, it was almost full dark. Abigail was awake, in the light of a candle, and sobbing.

Benjamin shot Coral a look that made it clear he didn’t want to deal with this and fled up the stairs.

Coral went over and gave Abigail an awkward hug. “No news of Doug, huh?”

“I’m so scared. Where are they? What’s happened?”

“I know,” Coral said. She had been wracked with anxiety herself when Benjamin was not even a full day late. Tomorrow would be two days late for Doug and Parnell. She let Abigail cry for awhile, and sat with her, hoping her presence would lend some comfort.

If Doug didn’t return, and then Coral and Benjamin left too, it would be hard on Abigail.

When the tears seemed to let up for a moment, Coral spoke up. “I think I have a possible treatment for your pregnancy.”

“What?” She looked up.

“No guarantee it will work, but there’s a chance.” She squatted in front of Abigail, took off a glove, and held onto Abigail’s cold hand. It was snotty, but Coral didn’t drop it. “I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“If Doug doesn’t come back—”

A wail sprung from Abigail and she snatched her hand back. “Don’t say that!”

Coral had to wait for another round of tears to build and subside. When she thought Abigail could listen, she said, “I hope he does. If I could do anything to make him walk through that door right now, I would.”

“You think he’s d-dead?”

“I don’t know.” Truth was, Coral thought he might well be, and Parnell too. “I hope what’s happening is that one of them broke a leg or ankle, and the other is having to stay and help him.”

“You think he’s hurt out there? Oh, God. What if Parnell is dead, and Doug is hurt and alone? He’s out there, and he can’t make it back, and he’ll be so cold. It’ll be hard for him to come back.” She seemed to brighten as she thought it through. “It could take a very long time with a broken leg.”

Coral sometimes forgot how the city had protected these people. Alone with a broken leg bone, miles from home? That was certain death. It’s not as if there were groves of live trees around to make crutches with. The tent wouldn’t be protection enough against the cold without sharing body heat with another person or two, and while she knew Benjamin had talked to the others about digging snow caves instead, they seemed stuck on using the tent, despite it making for much colder nights. Had Parnell died and Doug been seriously injured, he’d be out of food about now, too. If he wasn’t already dead, he soon would be.

She said none of this to Abigail. But she had to ask her one last question. “If Doug didn’t come back—and I’m not saying he won’t—would you still want to get rid of the baby?”

“What?”

“I mean, if it were the last of him you had, would you want to keep it?”

“What a horrible thing to say!” Abigail stood and pushed Coral away.

Coral lost her balance and sat back on the floor. It
was
a horrible thing to say. It was a horrible truth to consider. It was a horrible world. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure that you’re sure before we try this.”

“I thought you were my friend.”

“Right now, I’m your doctor.”

“I’m so— I’m too mad at you to— I can’t deal with this right now.” She fled up the stairs.

Coral was surprised at the anger. She sat on the floor, hugging her knees, and thought about it. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Had she been in Abigail’s place, had it been her...? Well, for one thing, she wouldn’t be sitting here crying. She’d be out looking for Benjamin. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t assigned officially to a search team. She’d gear up and do it.

Everything that had happened to her in these seven—seven and a half—months had changed who she was. Maybe the old Coral would have sat and wept and waited. But she wasn’t that person now. She was someone else, someone tougher and more pragmatic.

The image of the severed feet came to her, the ones hanging on that sign in that town a month back. She remembered she hadn’t been particularly surprised to see them. The townsfolk here, some of them, they’d fall down from horror at such a sight. They’d run to Victoria for daily therapy sessions after seeing those.

All they had done here in Boise, by hanging onto the old world and its trappings, was delay the inevitable. Only one out of ten of them had gun skills but they hadn’t bothered to train everyone with a rifle. They hadn’t done themselves any favors with that arrangement. Coral—who had been attacked, held against her will, in fear of her life, hungrier than she knew a person could be—was, despite all that, luckier than these people.

Circumstances had forced her to learn how to survive. She was tempered by her experiences. She was steel. Abigail was not. Poor Ab was more akin to glass, easily broken.

She hoped Abigail would be more rational tomorrow morning. She wanted to take her over to the clinic first thing and start pouring herbal teas into her. If Abigail had a chance to sleep on the question and she felt that she wanted to abort no matter if Doug was coming back or not, Coral would do her best, her medical best. Beyond that, Abigail would have to learn to fend for herself. Or she wouldn’t, and there was nothing Coral could do to forestall the inevitable outcome. Not for Abigail, and not for the rest of the town.

She went up to Benjamin, crawled in bed with him, and said, “Abigail’s pissed at me.”

“Why?”

“For suggesting Doug is dead.”

“They had a team of two out hunting for them today, I heard.”

“No news?”

“We’d know if they’d found anything.”

She sighed. “You know, I invented this fairy tale for her. About Doug being hurt, broken leg or something. Or maybe Parnell was the one with a broken leg, and Doug would stay with him.”

“Doug probably would. At least until the food ran out.”

“Yeah, he’s that kind of guy. Too nice for the new world. You’re nice, too,” she said, cuddling up to him.

“Huh,” he said. He put his arm around her and they enjoyed the moment of quiet. As she was drifting off, he said, “I’m nice to
you
.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I remember before, in the old days, you’d run across a dog trying to tear a chunk out of you, and the owner would say, “Golly gee, I don’t know what’s wrong. He’s usually so nice!’ And it never dawned on them that he was nice to the owner because he fed him.”

“You were nice to me because I fed you?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

“Go to sleep,” she mumbled, and let herself fade away.

The next morning, she went early to the kitchen to hand Chef the note about the herbs. “Sorry,” she said, when he gave her a disgusted look. “But it has to be done.”

He breathed out an irritated breath as he read the written order. “Which ones?”

“Parsley, sage, and oregano,” she said.

He found some empty food cans in the trash pile. They’d already been washed. After they were washed, they were collected every other day by a group of workers, flattened and were used for patching damage around town. He dumped the herbs in the cans and handed them to her one at a time.

She thanked him. “You have anything I can carry these in? I’d hate to drop them or have wind snatch any of it away.”

For some reason, that seemed to make him angrier. He stomped over to the trash pile and pulled out a plastic bag that had once held twenty-five pounds of rice. She wrapped the cans in it and left, cheered. The plastic bag was quite sturdy. It would go into her own pack and be useful many times in the future, for almost no cost in weight. She wondered if it would have ended up in the trash pile here, the one they burned. What else might get tossed in there that she and Benjamin could use?

She waylaid him as he came into breakfast and pulled him aside. “What about the trash?” She showed him the plastic bag. “They might be throwing things away we could use.”

“I don’t know. They burn every day, and there’s a guy there who scavenges it pretty well first.”

“Maybe you could double-check today? You could say someone asked you to. Parnell, maybe. He isn’t here to deny it.”

“Okay, I’ll try. I have perimeter patrol this afternoon but maybe I can do it this morning.”

“Thanks.” They went in to breakfast, where the table was subdued because of Abigail’s red eyes and slumped shoulders. The whole room caught the mood and conversations at the other table were pitched more softly than usual.

Abigail hadn’t spoken to her, so Coral stopped her as she got up. “Come to the clinic with me.”