INFECtIOUS (30 page)

"Yes, I'm
sorry.
Just you."
Then he says softly, "You
aren't alone, Ivy. We care for you. We are the Body. We care for each member.
The Bible says, "The eye can never say to the hand, 'I don't need you.'
The head can't say to the feet, 'I don't need you.'" He leans over to look
into my eyes and says emphatically, "You will never be alone."

I nod at him,
feeling awkward and having nothing to say in return. He squeezes my shoulder
one more time before letting go and walking quickly away. He turns down the
street toward the U.R. building and calls over his shoulder, "Don't be
late! 3:00!"

As I walk the
last block to the Inn, I wonder to myself which part of the Body I am. Aunty
was the hands.
Always helping, ready to serve.
I
decide I'm quite possibly the appendix. My life is rupturing and the Body can live
just fine without me.

To Catch
A
Predator

Tim and Rosa
arrive at the Inn within minutes of me. The meeting was short and they skipped
the meal to come make sure I was ok. It's a good thing I was back before they
got here. Tim wouldn't have understood my need for a walk.
Or
approved of my companion.
While I was out with Matt, in another world, I
somehow stepped away from the sadness. Now that I'm back home, it hits me again
in full force and wish I could just run away and not ever come back again.

After getting
Rosa a snack and laying her down on my bed for a nap, Tim and I sit on the
hallway floor outside of my room each with our own Gov. Bar. Tim has talked to
his dad and they've decided how to handle
Aunty's
passing. I'm not surprised or offended that I wasn't consulted. I'm relieved to
not be responsible for her body or her funeral.

Tim gives me the
basic details, "Some men will dig the grave this afternoon. My dad is
coming here in about twenty minutes with a gurney to take her over to the
clinic. He'll keep her there overnight. Then tomorrow morning, there will be a
viewing and a funeral for the community. After the funeral, just those closest
to her will meet at the grave for a few words.
And the
burial.
Jamie's dad is making her a casket."

They've thought
of everything I guess. Jamie Crest's dad is an excellent carpenter. Aunty often
commented on his workmanship. We have a beautiful oak bookshelf that was made
by him. It's strange to think that she'll be buried in his craftsmanship. I
guess she would like that.

"Ivy?"

"Sorry.
Yes. Thank you.
That all sounds—good."
It all
sounds terrible really but I'm sure nothing could sound good.

"If you are
up to it, we should go get her ready before my dad comes."

I look up at him
in surprise, a deep frown on my face.

"If you
can't, someone else will do it. They'll completely understand. I just thought
you might want to be the one."

I don't know
what I want. What I can handle. I don't want to do it, but I don't want anyone
else to either. I want her to look like her. I don't think anyone else could do
her hair the way she did. I think about seeing her tomorrow, done up with
makeup by someone else, looking wrong. It should be me. Somehow, I have to make
myself do it.

"Will you
help me?" I can barely get the words out before the tears come again.

He nods and
stands up to help me up from the floor.
 

I cry the entire
time.
Fixing her hair, putting color on her cheeks and lips,
picking her favorite dress.
Her closet smells like her and I want to
hide in amongst the clothes and smell her and pretend everything is ok again. I
don't have what it takes to undress and redress her. It's just too creepy. It
was hard enough to stare at her lifeless form and try to make it look lifelike
again. I just can't rob her of her dignity. Someone else will have to put her
dress on. I find jewelry, stockings and shoes to go with the dress. And then
they take her.

My heart feels
like
it's
being ripped in half as Tim's dad and Ellen
wheel Aunty out of her room and away from me. Tim holds me again and I let him.
We sit on the edge of her bed and I lean into his shoulder and cry for a long
time. I sob and shake and he holds me and I feel him crying too. My stomach
hurts and my tears finally run out. Still we sit there. Tim finally stands up
and helps me to my feet. It's time to leave her room and I don't want to come
back in here ever again. I look around, searching her sanctuary for something
to remember her by.

My eyes wander
around the room, stopping lovingly on each treasured item. On the nightstand is
a silver picture frame with a photo of her and Aunty Betty when they were
young. Slung over the carved bed post is the red hat that I picked for her on
our first "shopping trip" together. On her dresser, there are antique
glass perfume bottles that belonged to her grandmother and the bracelet I made
for her last Christmas. I spot her Bible
laying
on the
floor by her bed. These last two items are what I choose. I slip the bracelet
on my wrist, it's simple but she had acted so thrilled when I gave it to her. I
pick up her Bible from the floor and walk quickly from the room. Tim follows
behind me and shuts off the lights. My heart feels dead inside me as I hear him
pull her door closed.

It's almost 3:00
and I have to ask Tim for yet another favor. I need a babysitter for Rosa while
I meet with the Elders. He, of course, agrees and I hurry out the front door
with no clue as to what this meeting could be about.
 

It's a short
lonely walk to the U.R. and I am ushered right into the Elder's meeting room as
soon as I arrive. All of the Elder's except for Mr. Terrell are here. Even
Frank
Hosch
, who was absent at the last meeting, has
put aside his honeymoon to be here. Instead of the formality of last time, this
gathering seems confused and chaotic. I don't think any of them know why we are
here either. For once, I'm not out of the loop.

We are all
waiting for Mr. Terrell to arrive and explain why he called this emergency
meeting. In the middle of the table sits whatever Mr. Terrell had under his arm
earlier today. I have no clue what it could be, still wrapped in the green
checked tablecloth. Is anyone else dying to peek inside that gingham wrapped
mystery? I sit in the same chair I sat in last time and try to catch the
Elder's whispered conversations to each other.

Several of them
walk over to me and give heartfelt condolences over the loss of Aunty. She was
a very important part of this community. Though she often ruffled the feathers
of the men in this room, I'm touched that every one of them liked and respected
her. Rev.
Depold
comes over and sits down next to me.
He starts to offer his condolences but is interrupted by an angry shout from
outside the room. Everyone
looks
 
up
in confusion and, at the sound of approaching
feet, we all turn towards the door expectantly.

Mr. Terrell
enters first, followed closely by Andrew Markowitz and Anthony who have a
squirming Chuck Fox, handcuffed and locked tightly in their grasp. When Chuck
sees me, he tries unsuccessfully to pull out of the strong hold the guards have
on him. I'm completely confused.

"I'll get
right to it," Mr. Terrell announces.

Direct as
always.

"Mr. Fox
has been with us for only a short time. In recent weeks he hasn't been feeling
well and he started seeing Dr. Markowitz. Unfortunately, he didn't realize that
what he was suffering from was a recurring of LS. Hale shared his concern over
Mr. Fox's condition with me. The loss of his Healing gave me more reason to
suspect him. His behavior and demeanor had already seemed odd to me. He made no
secret of the fact that he was interested in Colleen from the first time he saw
her. Then today when her death was announced in the morning meeting, I watched
him. He didn't shed a tear. He smiled and visited with people during the
greeting time. He didn't seem like a man who had lost someone he cared about. I
left during the sermon and inspected his apartment."

At this Chuck
shouts, "You had no right to go in there! This is still America! I still
have rights! How dare you trespass on my property! You can't stand there and
condemn me of sin when you're a trespasser and a thief!"

Andrew suddenly
uses his
taser
on Chuck and Chuck shakes violently in
his chair, his muscles locking and his face stretched in pain and fear.

The entire room
erupts as several Elders call for some explanation and others shout for Andrew
to stop.

Mr. Terrell
ignores their shouts and walks closer to the table, leaning over and lifting
the tablecloth off of his mystery item to reveal a black—something. I don't
really know what it is. It looks like a black and gray box with a flashlight on
top. Or maybe something they used to film old movies?

The Elders all
look
shocked,
they seem to know what it is and what it
means. No one says
anything,
they just look sadly at
Chuck.

The room is
still when I ask quietly, "What is it?"

Mr. Terrell
looks woefully at me and says, "It's a Polaroid Camera, Ivy."

I'm slow to
process that. Trying to understand what Chuck Fox has to do with the camera
that took a picture of me that was given to a zombie. My stomach plunges
painfully when I realize Chuck is the one who did it. Chuck is working with the
zombies to hurt me. Mr. Terrell says he didn't even care about Aunty. He was
trying to get to me from the beginning.

I am filling up
with fury. I feel it boiling in me, rushing quickly to the surface, about to
pour out in rage and words that I shouldn't say—especially in front of the
Elders. All of the last few weeks of fear and sadness have somehow morphed into
one big storm of anger. My hands are shaking as I glare with hatred at Chuck in
his chair. He looks defeated and small, still recovering from the
taser's
shock, a beaten man. He starts to cry.

"They took
my wife!" he wails. "They were going to kill her if I didn't help
them! What could I do? I couldn't let them kill her if I could do something to
save her. I didn't know what else to do," he sobs.

He gives me a
pleading, pitiful stare. I don't know if he wants my forgiveness or my
surrender. My anger is barely
restrained,
I feel no
pity for this manipulative man who pretended to love my Aunty. To think I had
encouraged this hoax, had considered a future where Chuck was a part of our
lives.
Aunty's
gifts of wisdom and discernment had
kept us safe again. She had no interest in this viper.
A true
wolf in sheep's clothing.
Walking around among us while working for
Pravda!

The Spirit tries
to whisper to my heart of forgiveness and pity. I swat the encouragement away
like a pesky fly. I want to feel angry. It feels so much better than sad and
scared. I want to hold on to it forever. Chuck's tears do nothing to move me.
They only disgust me. No one else seems to pity him.
The
Elder's sit in stunned silence, glancing between me and Chuck.
I'm at the
center of all of this. My future will be decided by what this crying man knows.
If he'll tell us.

I try to be calm
but there are still sparks in my eyes when I look up and ask, "Are they
still after me?" I had hoped, after talking with Jack, that maybe they
didn't find what they wanted, maybe I was already safe.

He nods
pitifully in the affirmative.

I feel cold and
numb.

They still want
me.

My life is over.

Rev.
Depold
speaks with an authority that still contains traces
of his trademark kindness, "We need to know everything Chuck. Start from
the beginning. You owe Ivy that much."

Chuck nods
pitifully again, sighs and begins. "Nancy and I are from South Carolina.
About a year ago we met a missionary from Texas. He told us about God and after
we got Life, we wanted to go tell Theo, Nancy's sister. Theo lived in
Gainesville, about an hour from here. We didn't find her there but we thought
maybe she'd be with her son, so we
came
this
direction. He lived out in the country near here, a farmer. We were camping in
a field just outside of
Toccoa
when they surprised us
at night.
Some thugs from Pravda.
Beat me up and told
me they'd kill Nancy if I didn't do what they asked. Said there was a girl
named Ivy in this town that they wanted. I told '
em
'no'! Then they—", he pauses apparently overwhelmed with grief,
"—they cut off Nancy's hand!
In front of me!"

He drops his
head into his handcuffed hands and wails a pain-filled cry of complete agony.
The sound hurts me and I know I'll never forget it. That wail, that agony, will
follow me from this room and haunt my dreams until Jesus comes for me. My anger
cracks slightly and small drips of sadness start eking out, forming rivulets on
the dam walls around my heart. Andrew nudges Chuck roughly. He lowers his hands
and stares at me with his tears on his cheeks. I stare back, unable to look
away as he continues his gut wrenching tale.