The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) (11 page)

Nella shook her head, but he just pulled the plastic from her hand and pulled it into the water. The sting of her skin told her it was broken. She didn’t even look as he pulled it back into the light.

She pulled her hand back and slid over toward the packs. “You aren’t leaving,” he said.

“I have to. You’re safe right now. If I cough, if I touch a cut on your skin, you’ll get it too.”

“Maybe you’re immune. You couldn’t carry it if you were immune, right?”

She tugged on one of the straps of her pack. “I don’t think anyone’s immune, Frank. They would have made sure. They would have tried to infect as many people as possible. That was the whole point, remember?”

“But there have to be
some
. A few.”

“Why should I be immune?”

“Maybe I am then.”

“We’re not.” She pulled the pack free. He yanked it away.

“You aren’t leaving.”

“Stop, Frank.”

“I told you that it wasn’t
me
turning that scared me most, it was watching you go through that misery. The worst has already happened. Either you are immune and we’ll both be fine, or you’re already infected and I’ll take care of you as long as I am able. There’s nothing left to be afraid of.”

“You can
still
be fine.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t be. Nothing will ever be okay without you.”

“Don’t make this harder—” she started, but he closed his long hands around her arms and kissed her hard enough to be painful. She tried to draw back, but he pulled her even tighter and she tasted salt as his bottom lip split with the pressure. She gasped in pain and he let go.

“What have you done?” she cried.

“There was no other way to convince you,” he said, “I told you I didn’t want to be protected from you. If you’re infected, I’m infected. There’s no way I’m reliving the hospital. We stay together until the end.”

A dark spot of blood welled up where his lip had split. She wiped it away with one finger, still crying.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said, but she wasn’t certain he really meant it. He pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t mean to. If there’s another reason— if you want to go, I’ll let you. But not to protect me.”

She shook her head. “It’s a waste of your life. You could have been safe.”

“Safe for what? Nella, I was waiting to die before I met you. I was just plodding day to day waiting until my time was done.
You’re
who I was saved for. Whatever is left, whatever time or sanity or life, it was meant to be with you. I’m happy to spend them all. There’s nothing wasted about it.”

Nella put a hand on his cheek. “Don’t die, Frank,” she said.

He kissed the scrape on her other hand and then smiled. “Everything dies, Nella. What is it you said? ‘It’s okay. The world will keep going’?”

“Mine won’t,” she said.

Fourteen

“When can I see Henry?” asked Marnie as Vincent closed the fence gate between them.

“I’m sure he’ll want to at least talk to you as soon as he knows that you’re here. I’m going to radio him right now. But he hasn’t been exposed. So he won’t be able to visit until you are out of quarantine.”

“How long is that?”

“A little over a month.”

“A month? What am I supposed to do for a month?” she asked, flopping onto the small grass patch in front of her tent.

“I can bring you some books if you like.”

“Can’t read,” scowled Marnie, “I was in kindergarten when the Plague hit.”

“But your mom tried to teach you at the Lodge. I heard her reading to you through your window every night for years.”

Marnie looked up sharply. “How do you know?”

“I was with Henry at the Lodge. A few of us were. You’ll meet Ricky and Melissa and Molly later.”

She stood up and came back to the fence, squinting at him. “But you weren’t in the same pen as Henry. You were in the front. I remember you before you lost the eye.”

Vincent felt his heart sink. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I was in the front pens.”

“My mother tried to cure the front pens. She walked for days to get the Cure for you. Do you remember her?”

“I remember,” said Vincent, trying to decide if he should say more.

“I can’t remember what she looked like anymore.”

“Very much like you, from what I recall.”

Marnie was quiet for a moment. “Was it you?” she asked at last. “I— I know you didn’t mean to. I know it was the sickness. But was it you? Did you kill her?”

“It was me. I’m sorry Marnie.”

“But you
weren’t
sorry,” she said. “She was just food to you. I heard her crying for days. She asked my dad to shoot her, but he wouldn’t. I wanted to help her, but she pushed me away.”

Vincent crouched near the fence so that he could see her face. “She wasn’t pushing you away to hurt you, Marnie. She was trying to protect you. She thought you’d get thrown into the pen with her. I fought it as long as I could. I remember her every day. I know it’s too much to ask, but I hope you will think about forgiving me. For your sake, not mine. I will try to be your friend no matter what you decide to do.”

Marnie nodded, though she wasn’t certain that she could forgive him. Or that she should. She just wanted the conversation to end. “Can you find Henry for me? I’d really like to talk to him now.”

“Of course,” said Vincent and retreated to his own tent for the radio. He closed his eyes, fighting the picture of Elizabeth huddled against the splintery wooden palings weeping as she watched him and frantically turning her little girl away from the crack in the walls. She wasn’t the first person he’d killed, but he remembered her best, because of Marnie. And now he had to hope she’d trust him to keep her safe for weeks. He needed Henry and dreaded telling him at the same time.

Fifteen

Henry stripped the last of the silk from the cob and dropped it into the fire where it sizzled and drooped. “How many for seed again?” he asked.

“At least two hundred. But we have to eat something. Remember, we want the biggest and sweetest for next year. No more labs to do it for us,” said Amos, counting the cobs in his barrow. “We don’t have to get it all from this batch though, plenty coming.”

Molly sighed. “Plenty. That’s a nice, comfortable word. Haven’t heard that much lately.”

“Wish I could say it was going to be a familiar word. There’s just too many people relying on too small a garden.”

Henry looked down the hill where the quarantine camp’s lanterns glittered like a strange constellation. “Our numbers will go down, soon enough,” he said.

“I hate to say it, but I’m glad it’s the disease and not us that is doing the choosing,” said Amos.

“That’s only because it hasn’t taken anyone we know yet. Vincent’s still— himself, isn’t he?” asked Molly, carefully spreading the husks to dry beside the fire.

“He’s lost a few people down there. He’s had to— he thinks he’s a murderer. Father Preston apparently excommunicated him. But he’s still Vincent. The longer this goes on, though, the more I regret setting up that quarantine camp to begin with. What if none of them are immune? We would have lost a good man for no reason.” Henry tore at some corn silk.

“No Henry, don’t regret it. Even if none of them are immune, that quarantine camp is what’s saving the people up here. It gives the refugees some hope. Makes them less desperate. If it didn’t exist, or if someone less kind and careful than Vincent were running it, the people fleeing the City would have attacked us just to be let in. They’re so scared they don’t even realize they brought the thing they were running from with them. They would have fought us and then people up here would have become infected. The whole Colony would have been lost. Vincent’s not just saving the Immunes down in that camp, he’s saving us
all
. The best thing for us to do is to honor that and help these people survive. We don’t have an easy road ahead of us either.”

The radio on Henry’s belt crackled and startled them all. “Anyone home?” Vincent’s voice was tight and strained. Amos stood up and looked toward the camp, as if expecting attack or fire. Henry held the radio up. “We’re here, Vincent.”

“The others are with you?”

“Molly and Amos are, do you want me to find the others?”

“N— yes, Henry, go find them. The people that cured us are here. They have— news. But give the radio to Amos first.”

“I’m here,” said Amos, after Henry handed him the set.

“Oh, good, well, we need to add a few numbers to the food delivery and we’re getting low on lime.”

Amos frowned. “He’s gone, Vincent. What did you not want to tell him?”

“I’m not good at this.”

Amos smiled. “I like you better for it,” he said.

There was a long silence before Vincent sighed, “It was
his
Marnie. I’m certain of it. She’s been exposed, the other woman turned just after you left them. What do I tell him?”

Molly sucked in a startled breath. Amos glanced at her. “Is she showing symptoms?”

“She’s not sick yet, but the woman, Christine— they’d been in the same shelter for weeks.”

Amos shook his head and looked at Molly. “If we tell him, he’ll just go running down there. He’ll feel like it’s his obligation even though there’s nothing he can do.”

“If we don’t tell him,” said Molly, “he’ll never forgive us. He’ll leave anyway.”

“Amos?” Vincent’s voice stuttered over the radio.

Amos blew out a sigh and then spoke into the handset. “We have to tell him, Vincent.”

“It’s a death sentence.”

“It’s his choice. Maybe we can put him somewhere else to minimize the risk of exposure. Maybe she’s immune. Maybe
he’s
immune.”

“But you need him there.”

Amos nodded, though Vincent couldn’t see him. “I do.
We
do. But we can’t chain him up and force him to stay. He thinks Marnie is the reason he was cured, that protecting her is his entire purpose. I can’t take that from him.”

Molly stood up and put her good hand on Amos’s arm. “Vincent, you said the people that cured us came in too. Maybe they brought another cure! Why else would they come back here?”

“I haven’t asked them. They said they came to help— but I don’t think they have a cure. I think one of them, Nella, might be infected. Besides, if they had a cure, why wouldn’t they be in the City? No, Molly, I don’t think there is one. And I think they came because they knew they were the only ones that
could
come. I’m sorry. I seem to be delivering only terrible news.”

“What’s terrible news?” interrupted Rickey. He yawned and tried to pat down his rumpled hair. “Henry said the people that cured us are here. They got to know something, right?”

“Henry’s back,” Amos warned Vincent. “Let me tell him. I’ll call you soon.” He snapped off the radio.

Melissa and Henry trailed behind Rickey and sat on the damp stumps next to the fire. Melissa picked an ear of corn out of the barrow and began shucking it as if it had been her task all along. Molly sat beside her and played nervously with the pile of drying husks.

“Well?” asked Rickey, crossing his arms.

Amos pocketed the radio. “The people who cured you are in the quarantine camp. They said they were here to help.”

Rickey stretched. “We know that, that’s why Henry woke me up.”

Amos nodded. He lowered a hand onto Henry’s shoulder. “They brought Marnie with them.” He felt Henry start and tightened his grip to keep him seated. “They’ve all been exposed, Henry.”

“Shit,” muttered Melissa, tearing the husks from another ear.

“Maybe they brought a—” Henry started, but Amos shook his head.

“We don’t know for sure,” offered Molly, “Vincent was just guessing.”

“I think he’s right. There is no cure, Henry.”

“I promised her mother I’d take care of her.”

Rickey shook his head. “You tried. She refused. You’ve kept your promise. We
helped
you keep your promise. There’s nothing you can do for her now, but wait. She’s with Vincent. She’s as safe there as anywhere else.”

“What if some of them turn? What if they hurt her?”

“Some of them have already turned, remember? Vincent won’t let them hurt each other.”

“What about at the end, though?” asked Melissa. “You know what he’s planning. He won’t be there at the end, only the Immunes. Or whoever still appears immune by then, anyway. Are we just going to trust them to stay patiently in their cells until the fortieth day?”

“We have three weeks until then, maybe more. If Henry waits until Vincent leaves with the Infected, he may avoid exposure. If he goes now, all he can do is get sick. We need everyone we’ve got here,” said Amos.

“Wait,” said Rickey, “Why are we arguing about this? Vincent said the people that cured us came to help. He may
think
there’s no cure, but has he asked? They must have come for a reason. Nobody would tromp all the way out here if they weren’t sure it was necessary.”