The 40th Day (After the Cure Book 5) (15 page)

There was a pause before the woman quietly answered, “I hoped you might be friendlier to us than a stranger, but I don’t think you owe us anything.”

“We never
asked
to be cured.”

“I know.”

“Maybe some of us would have preferred to die the way we were.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Nella’s voice had sunk to a shaky whisper.

“And you didn’t even hang around afterward to explain things. Just left us a shitty ‘Dear John’ letter. Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to wake up like that? To find yourself older and injured and with memories worse than anything you’d imagined yourself capable of before. Why did you leave us like that? What was so important that you couldn’t be there just to
explain
?”

It was a man’s voice who answered him now, a calmer one than Rickey had expected after his prodding. “We left because we were trying to stop this. We were trying to find the bacteria that caused this before it could be released. We thought we had won. We thought he only had one opportunity. But we failed. So we’re here asking for help to stop it for good. We’re asking for help so we don’t fail again. I
know
what you woke up to, who you saw in the mirror. We wanted to come back, we thought we could make it back before you woke up. We never meant for the letter to be it. But you were already gone when we returned. But if you are truly unhappy being Cured, you can come with us. Make this part of your life mean something besides guilt and misery. You can help us stop it this time, so nobody has to choose between death and the Cure again.”

“So what do you want us to do? I don’t exactly have a nuke in my back pocket,” said Rickey, his tone softening.

“A nuclear bomb won’t work,” rumbled Amos.

“You’re far enough from the City,” said Frank.

Amos took the radio. “If the weather holds, sure, we could use one. But a shift in the wind and it would wipe out our crops at the very least. Besides, like you said, there are smaller settlements that are way too close. And if a fire started who knows how far it could spread.”

“Poison then? In the water. Even the people who have already turned would have to drink. We could make it painless.”

“Still won’t take care of the stuff people would want to loot,” said Amos.

“What about the stuff from that seed store? You said it’d kill anything when we were looking for weed killer,” said Henry.

“Chloropicrin,” sighed Amos. “It will, it’ll sterilize everything. But we’d need a lot. And it doesn’t travel easy.”

“Is there enough where you found it?” asked Frank.

“There is. But we can’t just pile it in a corner, it’s a fumigant. Someone has to spray it, over everything. We might be able to risk a sprayer truck but that would only get the streets. Someone would have to go door to door and spray every building. You’d never last that long. You’d be dead within an hour.”

“There is more than one of us down here.” His voice was gentle but he wasn’t wavering.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows how to fly?” asked Molly.

Amos shook his head. “Don’t even know where we’d get the fuel.” He spoke into the radio again. “Thing is, the dose could vary depending on the weather and where people were. It might take a few days to be sure. Or a few applications. Without masks, you’d never make it. And as soon as you drank or lay down to sleep, you’d be absorbing it anyway. You’d have to last long enough to be certain or the whole thing is useless. And that’s assuming none of you are Immune.”

“We’ll find masks, then,” said Frank. “And— there’s a boat. Whoever is still able can stay on the boat, until this is done.”

“And then?” asked Amos.

There was a silence. “And then we set out for open ocean. If anyone is still sane after forty days, they can return. Whoever isn’t sane won’t make it back to land to infect anyone else.”

“You have enough water and food?” asked Amos.

Frank sighed. “We’re putting the cart before the horse. If we make it that far, I’ll worry about it. We’ve enough to do before then. Besides, we’ve yet to meet a single Immune. I don’t think we’ll be that lucky.”

Rickey motioned for the radio. “Say we do this. Say we find this poison and the boat and the masks and somehow set up a signal, how do we know you’ll follow through? How do we know you won’t run at the last second.”

“We weren’t infected. We were safe, far up the coast. We came back knowing it was a risk. We’ve submitted to being in your quarantine cages without any protest. Nella has been exposed. There is no escape for us. If that isn’t enough, we’ll be with Vincent. You trust
him
, don’t you? He won’t run and he’ll make sure we don’t either.”

Rickey was silent. Frank continued. “I know this is a lot to plan. We have some time, though it never seems like it. I’ll— I’ll give Marnie the radio so she can talk to her friend.”

Rickey handed the radio to Henry. “Don’t take too long,” he said, “looks like we have a lot to do.”

“Don’t be so nasty,” scolded Melissa, “They are trying to protect us, to help us.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t want to be protected,” he grumbled, picking up the bundle of canvas that had been Father Preston’s tent.

“You aren’t the only person here,” she chided and walked away with him, still arguing.

Amos helped Molly with the stakes and poles, drifting quietly back toward the village so Henry could listen to Marnie in peace.

Twenty

Gray sat beneath the wall that had edged Father Preston’s tent. He could hear Henry mumbling to the kid on the radio, but he mostly ignored it. He’d heard what he needed. They thought they could throw him out.
Fucking zombies,
he thought. They had no idea what he could do. He’d have left them alone, as soon as something better came along. But the truth was, he admitted to himself, he’d nowhere to go. No more favors to cash in, no more schemes to play out, no more suckers to wind around his fingers. So he sat there, becoming simultaneously more furious and more panicked with each passing moment. Until he heard about the boat. The boat was a way out. To somewhere better. To new schemes, to new suckers. A way out of this plagued, dying, used up place. All he had to do was wait. When Amos, Henry, and Rickey left, he’d hit them. He could handle a couple of dumb broads. The rest of them were practically helpless. Practically house pets who couldn’t even feed themselves without the help of the leading five. And when they were good and distracted, he’d take the boat. He’d leave them all to rot, to turn, like the rabid beasts he knew they always were, that they were waiting to turn into. Gray stared down at the quarantine camp below him. He wondered if he could let a couple loose to wreak havoc. The camp was quiet.
Must be dealing with them when they turn,
he thought,
ah well, not worth risking catching it anyway.
He slunk back into the trees, careful to keep under the edge of the wall. One night of rough sleeping wouldn’t kill him. Tomorrow he’d be headed for the sailboat. Maybe the tropics after that. Joe had said something about Florida years ago, long before he became the silent gardener Bernard. Gray hadn’t listened then, but a sandy beach sounded pretty appealing these days. He flung himself onto the dirt, turning his face toward the dim lights of the Colony, keeping his watch as he imagined a new life, one with plenty of everything.

Molly climbed up to the top of the silo. It was late, even the watch fires at the ends of the wall were little more than coals. She liked the quiet and the soft blur of the mist rolling over the grass. The breeze mixed the smell of smoke and fresh sawdust and the sweet green smell of bruised corn leaves. It was comfortable. She didn’t feel people watching her, she didn’t feel “extra”, apart. She wanted to believe Henry. She wanted to believe someone would miss her if she were gone. It made her happy to watch them like this, like a fairy godmother who’d sneak away before she was seen, but she sometimes wished she was caught at it. Not tonight, though, tonight she wanted to send a message without being overheard. She clicked the radio on. “Vincent?” she said softly into it. She winced as she watched a light turn on in the quarantine camp.

“Molly? Is everything all right?”

“I’m sorry to wake you. I wanted to tell the people that cured us— I didn’t want them to think Rickey spoke for us all. Is the lady really infected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not, but she buried her friend and was exposed to the blood. Unless she’s immune, I don’t know how she can avoid infection.”

“Why is it people like them, Vincent? Why isn’t it people like Gray or Phil? Why is it you?”

“It isn’t a punishment, Molly.”

“But everything happens for a reason right? So how come I’m up here, useless and protected while you’re down there getting ready to die when so many people need you?”

She thought she heard Vincent laugh. “I’m glad you are safe up there. You are not useless, I miss you every day. One of these days even you will admit how heroic you are. Don’t mourn for me, Molly. I don’t know what the master plan is, but I know my part will help you, so I’m satisfied. And then I get to go home, when my work is done. Maybe Gray still has work to do, a chance to change. Maybe Nella and Frank have earned their rest. Maybe what’s waiting for them is better than what they’d ever find here.”

“But you’ll leave us behind— just like all the rest of the world. We’re just leftovers. Scraps.”

“Not scraps, seeds. The hardiest of us, for a better garden.”

“I’d rather come with you.”

“No, Molly, they need you here. There are enough people following me back to the City. I will not be lonely.”

“I will be. All of you with your roles, your quests. I’m just like the little boy who couldn’t keep up with the Pied Piper.”

“You think of your injury too much. How many others have a scar? How many are missing limbs or senses? I’m missing an eye, Molly, but it doesn’t make me less. You can do more than you think. You aren’t being left behind. You have your job to do too. You have to protect the Colony so the others have somewhere safe to come home to. You think Gray is going to stop because he’s beyond the wall now? You think that when Melissa sets up the radio signal, no one will come looking for where it came from? We’ll all be gone on our ‘quests’,” he paused to chuckle softly, “and the Colony will be at its most vulnerable. You have to rally the others, all those people from the City and from Father Preston’s group. You have to defend it so that the others have somewhere safe to come home to. So that those quests have a purpose and a reward. You must be their King Arthur.”

Molly laughed in spite of the grief sawing roughly at her chest.

“Do you want me to give the radio to Nella and Frank?” prodded Vincent gently.

She felt a blush rise in her face. “No, no, I’m afraid I wouldn’t say it right. Will you tell them for me? Just tell them ‘thank you’. I know it isn’t enough. Tell them I’ll remember them. I wasn’t certain, at first whether I was grateful for the Cure. I didn’t think I wanted to go on being me. I thought things would never be as good as they had been, before the plague. That my happiest days were behind me, so what was the point? Tell them I was wrong. I’ve never had friends like I do now, you and Henry, and the others. I was invisible Before, and I thought that was the best I could be. But now, after all the things I’ve done, with all the reasons we have to be jealous or fight each other, now I’m loved. And that’s better. Will you tell them, Vincent?”

“I’ll tell them. Goodnight, Molly.”

“Goodnight.”

Vincent clicked the radio off and scrubbed at his good eye. He didn’t want to tell her, but her voice had made him the loneliest he’d ever been, even the solitude of the monastery couldn’t match it. He had a need to be among other humans, even if they were strangers. He ducked out of the small tent, keeping his own night watch, checking the fences, listening for bad dreams. But the disease was merciful and nobody turned that night.

Twenty-one

“I don’t like leaving her alone while we do this,” grumbled Amos.

“She’s not alone. She’s got the entire Colony with her. You should be more worried about Melissa and Rickey. Or me and you, when it comes to it.” Henry glanced back in the side mirror, watching Molly carry a bucket of water as Amos pulled away.

“You can’t really think Gray’s just going to go away because we told him to, do you? What if he tries something before we get back?”

Henry’s face paled, but he shook his head. “Not today, it’s too soon. He knows we expect him to come back. He’ll try something alright, but he’s the type to wait until he thinks we aren’t paying attention. He’ll give it a few days.” He paused for a moment. “Or he’ll attack us for the truck, since we’re on our own, or Rickey and Melissa for their gear,” he added grimly. “But Melissa knows every footpath and street in the county, even after it’s disappeared into weeds. She can outwit Gray. And as long as we stay alert, he shouldn’t get the jump on us. And we should be back by tonight, right?”

“We’ll make okay time there,” said Amos, “we cleared it last trip. But I wasn’t kidding when I said this stuff is hard to transport. You get a container of more than a dozen or so gallons and a little knock can make it explode. We’re going to have to crawl back, especially if we can get a sprayer truck filled and working. And we have to. This plan isn’t going to work without a sprayer truck.” He was quiet for a moment. “Henry, you saw the cans in back? It’s the last of the gasoline. All of it. I know you’re looking at this week as a kind of endgame before you go into quarantine, and maybe you don’t think— maybe you aren’t planning for after. But I have to.”