Read Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) Online
Authors: Deirdre Gould
“You mean give him an overdose of sedative, don’t you?”
“Yes, Juliana, I do. Think of what you would want if you were in his position.”
Juliana nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said. They left the man’s room and relief washed over Ruth as she shucked the mask and breathed clean air again. But Father Preston’s Congregation was waiting for them in the hallway. They watched the two women in silence for a moment. Father Preston stepped forward as if he were shielding his flock with his own body.
“You are going to murder that man aren’t you?” asked Father Preston, “right there where you were going to murder me.”
Ruth gasped. In seven years, he’d never mentioned what Ruth had done. She had no idea he had remembered it. She flushed, feeling confused and cornered. Juliana glanced at her with obvious curiosity. But instead of asking, she said simply, “Ruth is treating that man. He is infectious and you should all stay away.”
“Don’t fall for her tricks, Juliana,” said Father Preston, “She’ll tell you she’s here to help but she’ll slip him poison when you aren’t looking. Or suffocate him.” Father Preston was shouting now and he whipped an old tattered towel from his back pocket and flung at Ruth’s feet. It was the same towel she’d held against his face.
Ruth bent over and picked it up. The Congregation was completely silent, their gaze like the heat of an August sun. But the Infected began wailing and screaming in the rooms beyond Father Preston as he shouted. “I was trying to
help
you. I only wanted to ease your pain,” said Ruth, with surprising calm.
“I didn’t want to die, Ruth. None of these people do. You can’t play God.”
“Why not?” Ruth asked, the volume of her voice rising as the agony of the Infected overwhelmed the hallway, “If He’s not going to do His job, why shouldn’t I pick up the slack?”
The women in the Congregation gasped. The men crossed themselves. “You can’t speak for these people,” she continued, “Only their families, who know them, who know what they would have wanted can. You’re playing God as much as I am. If you had left them where you found them—”
“Left them where we found them? Many were starving or freezing. How is that kinder than what you’ve done?” shouted Father Preston, his cheeks reddening.
“At least it would have been quicker,” said Ruth.
“You aren’t fit to be a physician,” spat Father Preston.
“I wouldn’t trust you to care for a beast,” shouted one of the men behind him. Juliana held up her hands to stop the fight, but Ruth lost her temper.
“It would be easier if I
were
a vet!” she cried, “at least they put animals out of their misery when necessary. Nobody questions them. It’s the humane thing to do. What has happened to you people? Where is your mercy? Where is your simple decency? You used to treat
dogs
better than you treat the Infected. At least a dog is allowed to die when it has suffered enough. At least a dog gets fresh air and sunlight and grass. If you kept dogs chained as tightly as you keep these people restrained, you’d have gone to prison. At least a dog doesn’t have to be trapped in its own filth until someone changes it.” She pounded on the door behind her, “These are
human beings.
Can’t you hear them? You think they shriek like that for fun? They are more than a cause to shout about or a mythical ‘heathen’ in need of bible study. They are
people!
Once they had mothers and fathers and spouses and children. And maybe they lived good, decent lives. Maybe they were artists who created beautiful things. Or maybe they were policemen or soldiers who protected you. Or maybe they were just normal people who got up every morning and kissed their loved ones and went to work and had picnics. Maybe some of them even showed up to your church on Sunday. They at least deserve the respect and dignity you’d give to an animal. Not— this.”
Suddenly, Juliana raced down the hall, pushing her cart ahead of her and almost knocking Father Preston over. Ruth immediately regretted falling for the bait and shoved her own way past the people in front of her. Some of them spit on her, but she didn’t pay attention, following her friend instead.
“I’m sorry, Juliana,” Ruth called after her. Juliana stopped on the front walk. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about you. I didn’t mean what you were doing—”
“Never mind,” said Juliana, “I shouldn’t expect you to understand. I do what I think is best and you do what you think is best, and we can still be friends, right?”
“Of course,” said Ruth.
Juliana pushed the cart out to the manhole in the middle of the cement walkway. Volunteers had rolled the metal cover away years ago and recovered it with chain link fencing. Juliana began dumping dirty water into the sewer. She stared for a moment at the mountain of soiled diapers and bandages. She sat on the hot tar and began to cry. “What is it?” asked Ruth, sitting beside her.
“I ran out of soap a month ago. We ran out of toothpaste and baking soda over a year ago. They are
all
going to get it. The dysentery or the cholera or whatever he has. I can’t get the linens clean enough. Their teeth are rotting even though I brush them every night. They have barely enough protein from the garden, and this winter we’ll have none at all. Half of them are probably developing scurvy or rickets. You’re right, Ruth, I treat them worse than animals. And it’s only getting worse.”
Ruth thought for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry.”
“No, you are
right.
”
“Yeah,” said Ruth, “but if I were being fair instead of blowing up at Father Preston, I might have said we were treating them like animals, but I also would have said that
we
are living like animals too. Juliana, you didn’t run out of soap just for
them
, the Infected, you ran out for you too. Sure, their teeth have some plaque. So do mine,” she started grinning and pointed to her friend, “So do yours, for that matter. There’s two bits of good news:
Everyone’s
teeth are rotting, so nobody’s going to stare.”
Juliana gave her a weak smile. “And the other good news?”
Ruth shrugged, “We so rarely have sugary or starchy food now, that our teeth will rot slower. As long as we keep rinsing their mouths and brushing until the brushes run out, their mouths will be as healthy as ours. All I meant was that Father Preston’s people treat the Infected like they aren’t human. Like they are just an excuse to hold a tent revival. If this were Before, they’d all have ‘Save the Afflicted’ t-shirts. They’d go to their rallies and write a check once a month and never otherwise think about the Infected at all. They might not have the bumper stickers anymore, but they are doing the same thing. They come in, shout some verses and feel they’ve done some good. They come to the station and shout some curses and feel that they are righteous. Then they go home and loot from their neighbors or hoard things that are desperately needed here, all the while feeling perfectly pure and sanctified. If they were really thinking of the Infected as people, if they really
cared
about what happened to them, they’d be here, every day, doing what you do without being asked. You give everything you have to the people you care for. You eat after they eat. You wash after they wash. You sleep after they sleep. None of that— scene was meant for you.”
Juliana was silent, her gaze far off, lost in the sway of the tall summer grasses. “Is it the linens you’re still worried about?” Ruth asked. “You didn’t give that man dysentery. What he was living in all these years did that. I’m still floored he lasted this long. And we can boil the linens, it’s as good as soap for disinfection. We’ll start drying them in the sun instead of over the kitchen stove. That should kill anything that makes it through boiling. Honestly, though, if an outbreak is going to happen, there’s only so much you or I can do. We’re all drinking the same groundwater and not everyone is as careful about their waste as we are.” She waved at the grate over the manhole.
Juliana shook her head. “Where are we going to get all that fuel to boil the water? It’s hard enough to get wood for the winter as it is. It just keeps getting harder. Everything is falling apart.”
“This isn’t like you. What is making you so sad? We’ve been through worse times. Remember when that hail storm took out half the garden? You didn’t even blink. Or when those trees fell onto the roof? You had someone fixing it in days. So we burn some tires in the old boiler instead of wood this winter. No one’s going to be complaining to the city. And we’ll be a little thinner in the spring. We’ll make it. I thought of a few more places to try for canned goods anyway, and I treated a guy with a broken arm a few months ago. He was just passing through and he told me about an orchard about twenty miles outside of the city. I’d need a few helpers and a couple of days, but we could bring back cartloads of fruit before the snow. I’ve made my decision. I’ll stay Juliana. I’ll go get my things tonight and I’ll be back in the morning. Okay?”
Juliana smiled. “Okay. That will help.” She got up and dusted off the backs of her legs. She looked at the pile of laundry. “Do you want to cook dinner or—”
Ruth groaned. “Just give me the laundry,” she scowled and pushed the cart into the kitchen.
Chapter 12
Frank crouched next to the cabinets counting water bottles. He tried not to listen to Nella as she spoke calmly over the radio to the people waiting at home. It was like calling a friend to let them know a loved one had just passed away unexpectedly. But worse. He’d never dreamed the capitol would be wiped out. Not really. No one would expect that. It was going to crush all hope of returning to any kind of normal life for anyone who still clung to it. Frank couldn’t do it. He had reasoned that Nella was better at it, that she was trained to know what to say. But nobody was trained for this. She’d made the radio call so that he didn’t have to.
He closed the cupboard and flopped back onto the bunk, looking up at the map he’d pinned above it. Unless they could find a clean source of fresh water, they would only be able to go another week before turning around. Was it even worth going farther? He shut his eyes. The truth was, he’d been terrified when they’d sailed out of sight of the City. Every town they’d landed in had been an aching stretch of adrenaline from the minute they touched the solid ground. He’d expected an ambush from every empty doorway, or thieves to take the boat and strand them. He thought about telling Nella, but she’d been nervous too. So he’d held his tongue, waiting for the safety of the capitol. It had been the first thing he thought of each day as they lifted the anchor. Every hope had hinged on the thousands of people he had expected to find. What was he to do now? What were any of them to do?
Nella appeared beside him and sat on the edge of the bunk. “What do they want us to do?” asked Frank.
“It’s really up to us. Things aren’t so hot at home.”
Frank sat halfway up. “What do you mean? We’ve only been gone a few weeks, what could have happened already?”
“The people we left at the farmhouse— the ones we cured,” said Nella, rubbing the dark jagged scar on her shoulder, “they made it to the City. They were unhappy— and not just them. Lots of the Cured are unhappy. It’s not fair, the way things are. Several dozen people, both Cured and Immune, picked up and left a few days ago. They’re starting a new settlement near where we found them.”
“Was there fighting?”
Nella shook her head. “No, it was completely peaceful— so far. They only took what they’d earned and just walked out the front gate. But a lot of them were from the electric plant and the farm. The governor is very angry. Sevita doesn’t think he’ll let them go. She says it’s getting tense, and there’s been talk of closing the Barrier and only allowing people out who have permission.”
“We aren’t the City’s slaves!”
Nella put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m on your side, Frank.”
“I know you are. If we had only found another group, maybe the people at home would realize the wider world is out here, that how they treat us will tell others a lot about the kind of society we have. Maybe things would be better. Maybe they would treat us like equals instead of criminals.”
Nella slid down next to him. She traced the rough, sunburned bitemarks that scarred Frank’s arm. “No, I don’t think that’s what would have happened,” she said. “Nobody else has the Cure. Just us. The other Infected must all be gone now. There is no other group of Cured people. Other groups would see us and wonder why we bothered. They’d take notice of how we treat the Cured, but it wouldn’t be to condemn, it would be to imitate. The best thing that can happen, is happening, as hard as it might be. The Cured are taking matters into their own hands, standing up for themselves. Creating another community where it is normal for everyone to be equal. Maybe
they
will set the standard instead. You said if we wanted to rebuild modern civilization, we had to act as if we are already part of it. We have to be the ones to put it all back together.”
“You want to turn around and find this new settlement they’re making?”
Nella shook her head. “No. We still have a job to do. There are still people out there waiting for someone like us, I know it.”
“We don’t have a lot of fresh water left. I haven’t even looked at the food situation yet. A week, maybe two, and then we’ll have to go back either way.”