Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) (22 page)

“Good old Joe Mackey, just had to go his own way, no matter what anyone else thought. So he brought a soldier into our camp on our way by. Did it really casually, when we were packing up to move on. Well, the soldier would have killed everyone in that camp. We had to defend ourselves and the people in our charge. And Joe— well, let’s just say his tongue doesn’t flap so free anymore.” Gray reached up with surprising speed and pinched Bernard’s cheeks, forcing his mouth open. The other man gasped at the stump Ruth knew he saw there.

Her head was whirling. Bernard was the man that had sent Gray to see her in the first place. Without him, none of it would have happened. And there were rumors of a cure? How could there be a cure? Her mind rejected it almost immediately, though she didn’t believe Gray’s version either. He was right though. If there were a cure, word would have spread, even over a great distance and even given the scarcity of people. Wouldn’t it? It was like the Holy Grail. How many rumors of cures had she heard in the past eight years? How many old wives’ tales? All false, all mirage.

“Now tell me where the food is,” Gray growled and he pushed Bernard backwards toward the bed. Bernard simply shook his head, his face pale and stony. “Get the dog,” Gray snapped. Bernard grabbed for his dog with a loud groan, but Gray was too quick. He brought the flat of the ax blade down on Bernard’s shoulder. It hit with a meaty thunk that Ruth could feel in her teeth and she guessed that at least one bone had broken. Bernard howled in pain and staggered back a step as the dog leapt at Gray, snarling and biting. His teeth closed around the hand holding the ax and Gray swore loudly.

“Get it off, you fools!” he roared, and two men hurried forward to pull the dog off. Bernard had recovered and punched Gray in the jaw with a massive fist. He barreled through the other men. The dog let go and sprinted after him. There were too many people waiting outside. The dog escaped but they dragged Bernard back in to the cottage and forced him into a chair near the plain wood table. He was smiling as Gray fumed about the dog.

“I want that mutt found,” shouted Gray. “Whoever kills it gets to take it home to their family. Must be enough meat on that thing to eat for a week.”

The chorus of cheers that erupted at this announcement made Ruth both nauseous and profoundly sad. Even Bernard’s smile dissolved into a look of deep pity, and she knew he was wavering about giving them the food. So was she.

“In the meantime,” Gray said, walking over to Bernard, “You’re going to tell us where the food went.”

Bernard took a deep breath. He pointed again to the hospital. Gray shrugged.

“If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off. You’re lying Joe. Or your hand is. Hold him down.”

But it didn’t take much to pin his broken arm to the table.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to redeem yourself and tell the truth. Where is the food?”

Ruth held her breath, but Bernard didn’t even betray her with a glance. He pointed immediately back to the hospital. Gray raised the ax over his head. Bernard shut his eyes.

“Brother Gray,” said a nearby man, nervously, “If you cut off his hand, he’ll die. Even if he doesn’t bleed to death, he won’t be able to work. You’ve broken his arm. The only doctor in town is that heathen who is bent on killing people. It’ll never set right on it’s own. He’s already going to have a hard time plowing. He’ll starve if you take it completely.”

“Better he should die than continue to lie for that murderess. Better he should starve than
your
children. He knows where the food is. Don’t you want it?”

“Well— well, yes,” stuttered the man and the others around him nodded. “But surely we should be merciful and give him a chance to repent. Take him to Father Preston. I’m sure he can help this man see the light.”

Ruth watched Gray’s eyes narrow with hate when Father Preston was mentioned. He kept his voice smooth, in control. “Father Preston has already spoken on this. He’s said that anyone in league with that devil-woman was to be cast out of our company, unworthy of being in our presence.”

The others still looked doubtful and there was an uneasy shuffling in the small cottage. Gray realized it, too. He twisted the blade around as he spoke. “My brothers are right. We should always strive to be merciful. Still, I think the path to righteousness sometimes needs a little
prod.
” He grasped Bernard’s broken arm and brought the blunt side of the ax down on Bernard’s hand. It hit with a wet crunch and Bernard screamed, his uninjured arm flailing even with two men holding it down. Ruth tasted the coppery salt of blood and realized she’d bitten her own lip.

“I’ve heard the pinkie finger isn’t really good for much, but it seemed to prove useful this time. Now, where is the food from the garden?”

Bernard raised his good hand. He was shaking, but he pointed to the hospital.

Gray shrugged. “Well, you’ve got four more chances anyway. Plenty of time to change your mind.” He smashed the ax down again. Bernard whimpered this time.

“Where’s the food? Careful now Joe, or you’re going to start losing fingers that matter.”

Bernard just shook his head. Gray grinned. Ruth realized that he didn’t really care where the food was. Maybe he didn’t even care where
she
was. The longer he was in control, the more he could
hurt
people, the happier he’d be. It sent a spiny shard of fear through her limbs.

“Which finger should be next? After all, we want to be as merciful as possible. The thumb should be last of course. But should we take the middle finger next? It would only make a foul sign if it were left alone. Or should we take the forefinger, since its twin keeps pointing to a lie? What do you think brothers?” He spun halfway around to see the others.Most of them were pale and uncomfortable.

“Maybe it’s really at the hospital,” offered one.

Gray sneered. “Is
that
what’s troubling you? No. It’s not at the hospital. The hospital has been under constant guard. I know that
I
didn’t shirk my watch. Did
you,
Brother Michael?”

A skinny man in the back twitched as all the eyes in the room swiveled onto him. “No, no of course not, Brother Gray.”

“How about
you,
Brother David?”

A man she recognized as the guard in the fog shook his head quickly.

“Well, there’s your answer then.
We’re
not the liars and sinners here. And if we aren’t lying, then Joe here must be.” Thwack! The ax crushed another finger. Tears streamed down Bernard’s face and he sobbed.

“Just tell us where it is and all this can stop. It can all be done, Joe. You’re in control of this whole thing.”

Bernard groaned, but he didn’t shake his head again. Ruth ached with dread. She knew he couldn’t last. He was going to tell them. What could she do? She was trapped. And once they had their hands on her—

“Where’s the food, Joe?” Gray asked again, his tone almost friendly.

Bernard whimpered like a dying dog. He raised his good hand again. It hung in the air as Bernard sobbed again. Every eye watched the hovering hand. Bernard slowly raised his forefinger and pointed to the hospital.

Gray slammed the ax down twice, in quick succession. Bernard screamed. Gray turned away from him in disgust. “This man still refuses redemption. Throw him in the cart. He can face the cross like the others. Maybe Juliana’s misplaced affection for him will make her give up that bloodthirsty whore, to save him and he can end all this misery.”

A few of the men lifted Bernard from his chair and pushed him out of the door. Ruth’s mind raced. If they’d just wait until dark, maybe she could rescue him. But if he didn’t stop bleeding he’d probably be in shock by then. She had to find a way to treat him, and fast. Her muscles tensed, ready to spring up from her hiding spot as soon as the rest of the group moved on. But Gray had other plans.

“You,” he said, pointing the ax at one of the men standing in the doorway, “stay here and keep an eye on this place. Juliana will send someone out here eventually to find the food she needs for the hospital. If it’s that baby-slaughtering doctor I want you to hold onto her until I come to get you. Do what you like with her, just be sure she’s alive and conscious for the cross.”

Ruth shuddered and tried to crunch farther into the shadows beneath the bed. A few more of the men lingered to search the cottage. The rest followed Gray outside. There was a bustle and the sound of breaking plates as the men swept the small kitchen clear, looking for food. It wasn’t long before one of them found the seedlings in the shed. He called the others over. “Well, shit. I actually believed the gardener,” said one, peering in.

“If the plants are here, where’s the edible stuff?” asked another.

They all piled into the small shed. Ruth glanced at the front door. It was still ajar from when the others had left. She couldn’t see anyone outside. Nobody was looking. Soon they’d tear the rest of the place apart. They’d find the loose floorboards, and they’d find Ruth. She took a deep breath and pushed herself up by her hands, the back of her hair just catching on the underside of the bed. She glanced at the storage shed door to make sure their backs were turned and then tensed to spring out from beneath the bed.

“We better tell Gray,” said one of the men and turned around, Ruth froze. She’d moved too close to the edge of the bed. He’d surely see her if he looked.

“Wait a second before you go off running your mouth,” said another and came out of the shed after him. The other two men followed. “Listen, Gray doesn’t have a family. He’s only got to look out for himself.”

“And?” asked the first man, his eyes narrowing.

“We can’t feed everybody, no matter how bad we want to. Your kids are hungry, John. We’re neighbors, I hear ’em crying at night. Mine too. I do what I can for the Congregation, but scavenging hasn’t gone so well these past few months. There’s less and less in the city. Me and Martha— we’ve talked about leaving, lots of times. But this is our home, always has been. And we figure any help would come here first, to a big city where there might still be people left to need it, not out in the wild. So if we can find a way to stay, we’re going to.”

“But Gray said—”

A third man interrupted. “Gray said we should let him know if we find the food. This is just seedlings. He’s burning the greenhouses. He doesn’t care about plants. He’s no farmer. But we could do something with them.”

“What about the rest of the Congregation?” asked the last man.

“You heard Father Preston, they’re leaving as soon as they get the Afflicted out of the hospital. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my newborn sleeping next to a zombie, no matter what the Father says. I’m staying. And if I’m staying I have to feed my family.”

Ruth took advantage of the confusion as the men argued amongst themselves for a few more minutes and drew herself farther into the shadows. She’d have to wait for another opportunity. She worried about where they would take Bernard and whether he was still holding onto consciousness or not. Part of her hoped not. At last they agreed that one of them would go find a wheelbarrow while the others reported back to Gray.

“What if that woman comes while I’m gone?” asked the man who was meant to guard the cottage.

One of the others scoffed. “She’s locked up tight in that hospital. There’s almost fifty people in that field. There’s no way she’s coming here.”

They left together, closing the cottage door behind them. Ruth sagged against the floor in relief. She only waited a moment and then darted to the door. She peered out the window into the bright afternoon. She’d never get across the garden without being seen. The guard had found the barrow and was wheeling it back. She pressed herself against the wall so she would be behind the door when it opened. She grabbed a sharp trenching shovel that was leaning nearby. Bernard had used it to start building an irrigation canal early that spring. It hadn’t been completed.

She realized she was going to have to incapacitate the guard and a wave of anxiety sent cramps through her gut. Despite what Father Preston proclaimed, she’d never considered herself a murderer. The man just wanted to feed his family. He believed she was evil. She knew that. Deep down in their hearts, all the people that followed Father Preston were convinced she was truly bad. Deep down in her own, she desperately wanted to believe she was not. But she knew she was about to do something worse than everything that had gone before.
By the time the day is out, you’ll have to do it again,
said a little voice, but she pushed it away. No time for thinking or even justifying now.

The wheelbarrow’s rusty wheel creaked as it came to a stop outside the cottage. The man clumped up the few steps and opened the cottage door. He headed for the storage shed, leaving the front door open. Ruth gave it a gentle shove so it would shut but not slam. The light changed as the door began blocking the sun and the man began turning to see why. Ruth leapt at him before he could see her. She brought the heavy point of the shovel down on his nose, shattering it and spraying a heavy splash of dark blood over the floor. The man reached up and began to yell, but she jerked the shovel back and drove it into the front of his throat before he could bend over to cradle his broken nose. The man tried to gasp and only gurgled. He toppled and lay on his back, his hands still holding his broken nose as he struggled to breathe through the slice in his throat.