The Cured (17 page)

“C’mon handsome. Chow’s on,” Rickey snickered and elbowed him. Henry shook his head and went back into the women’s changing room. It was warmer in there, not just because of the camp stove’s recent use, but because everyone was already sitting there. Henry didn’t understand how six walking bundles of bone had the energy to produce body heat, but they did.

“Careful Pam, we still have to be careful,” said Vincent as he watched her ladle food into bowls.

“We have to eat or we won’t be able to walk,” said Melissa.

Vincent nodded. “I know, but take it easy. Otherwise we won’t be going anywhere.”

Henry jumped as a toilet flushed behind him. The noise was so foreign, so loud. Molly walked out of the stall, scratching her hand loose of it’s bandage. Henry could see the stumps of her fingers had blackened and shriveled even more. She looked up and saw him watching her and burst into tears. He hurried over to her. The rotting smell clung to her, even though they had all scrubbed every inch of themselves. “It’s going to fall off,” she said.

“No, I’m sure it’s just infected. I think I found a first aid kit in that house. Let’s find it.” She waited by the sink, suppressing a sob and unwrapping the remaining bandages while Henry rummaged for the first aid kit. He frowned when he found it. It was old, hadn’t even been new when the Plague hit. And it was very basic. He doubted there would be anything of use inside, and if there was, it would probably be spoiled. But he glanced over at Molly, still looking at her blackened hand, shoulders pulled up and in, a cave of loneliness and fear. He hoped whatever he did wouldn’t make it worse. Or kill her. He walked over, opening the case as he went so he could avoid her eyes. At least there were fresh bandages inside. He pulled out a packet of antiseptic wipes. The foil paper was creased and soft, but it wasn’t broken. Henry hoped they’d still be good. He held out his hand and she lay her wounded one in it. He hesitated and then pulled out the wipe. “Does it hurt?” he asked, and gently applied the wipe. She flinched but then relaxed. “A little,” she said, “but it’s mostly numb. I think it’s dead.” A low sob escaped her.

“Vincent might be better at this-” Henry started.

“No! No. I don’t want anyone else to know until they have to. You already know. You can do first aid right?”

“I’m an office clerk Molly. I just have basic work safety type training. This is not that.” Henry shook his head and hissed through his teeth as the blackened skin crackled and puffed under the wipe. “We need something stronger. We need to find a doctor too.” He fished around in the kit. She put her good hand on his arm to stop him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t waste this stuff,” she said.

“It’s not a waste, you’re hurt.”

“But you can’t fix it. Maybe there’s nobody left that can fix it. Maybe we should just let it go.”

Henry stared at her. “We can’t ‘just let it go,’ you’ll get very sick. It might even kill you.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I was a student. I can’t fix anything, I don’t know how to build anything or where any secret bunkers are. I can’t shoot, I can’t fish, I’ve never even had a garden. I didn’t survive this long because I’m smart or resourceful or valuable to anybody. I just got lucky. I don’t think that’s going to work any more. Maybe we should just let it go. Survival of the fittest.”

“That’s crap Molly. Sure, we’re all still here because we’re lucky. There are people that were much better prepared than we were that are dead now. But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn how to grow food or build a shelter or bandage a wound. We aren’t dead yet.”

“I’ve only got one hand, even if we stop the infection. I’m not going to be any good to anyone,” she sniffled.

“And Vincent’s only got one eye. And Rickey has a smoking problem. And we’re all depressed, starved, and weak. Look what we’ve survived through. If we give up now all those years were for nothing. All those people we killed to survive, died for nothing.”

“Maybe they did,” whispered Molly, “This is all too big and too terrible. It doesn’t
mean
anything. There’s no lesson here. We didn’t deserve to suffer. They didn’t deserve to die. There’s nothing to learn. It was misery. It
is
misery. That’s all that’s left.”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I
can’t
believe it. But let’s pretend for a minute that you are right. Let’s pretend the world would be better off without us. Let’s pretend the rest of our lives will be nothing but suffering and that we’ll be better off if we end it. Look at your hand Molly, do you know what that is?”

She shook her head.

“I’m not a doctor,” he continued, “but I’d be willing to bet that is gangrene. It smells and looks like it. It’s not a good way to die. You’ll be in pain, more than you are now. You’ll struggle to breathe. You’ll get confused, maybe do something dangerous for the rest of us. Or we’ll have to sit and watch you die for days. If you sit down and die, we aren’t going to just abandon you. Look around, Molly. Look at them.”

Molly watched the others gathered around the little camp stove. “They’re walking skeletons,” said Henry, “but they’ll still stay to help you. And by the time you die, we’ll be out of what little bit of food we have. We’ll starve and die too. You don’t want us all to die, do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“We all have to choose whether or not to go on in this world. I’m not trying to change your mind. You’re right, some people truly won’t be cut out for this life. And some won’t be able to live with the things they’ve done to survive this long. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move on from what I’ve done. But this is a bad way to go. This isn’t an easy death. So I’m not just going to let it go. In a few days, we’ll be in the City. We’ll go our separate ways and make our own decisions. Let me think that I’ve helped you for now. Just for now. Let me sleep a little easier knowing I did one good thing against the balance of so many bad. Okay?”

Molly covered her face with her hand and sobbed. “Okay,” she mumbled.

He pulled out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some foil packs of antibiotic cream. “Is there soap in that dispenser?” he asked.

Molly used her good hand and pressed hard on the dispenser. A dribble of soap oozed slowly out. “It must be almost all dried up,” she said. Henry reached over and caught the small bubbles of soap.

“Good enough. This peroxide’s probably no good. Almost all water now, but we’ll try it anyway. The soap might help some too.” He glanced up at Molly. “Sorry, this is going to hurt. I’ll try to be gentle.” He tried the peroxide first. It fizzled halfheartedly and Molly didn’t even seem to notice. He’d hoped it would take away some of the dead skin. He scrubbed her hand gently with the soap and water from the sink. She tried not to yell, but her arm was shaking by the time he was done. It was cleaner than it had been, and fluid leaked from several blisters. Henry hoped that was a good sign. The smell still made him want to gag. He did his best to wrap it in sterile gauze. “Do you think we should put a glove over it to protect it?” he asked, holding the ghastly purple plastic up.

Molly shrugged. “I guess so. It probably can’t make it worse. It’ll keep the dirt from the road out anyway.”

Henry stretched the glove as much as he could so that it wouldn’t snap on her fragile skin and guided it over the gauze. It was a lumpy mess, with loose plastic fingers where hers were missing and it was anything but subtle. At least it was done. Molly looked doubtfully at it, her eyes still oozing slow tears. Henry squeezed her good hand and caught her eye. “It’s going to be okay, you know. We’re going to find a doctor tomorrow. The City will have medicine to help.”

Molly nodded but didn’t say anything. Henry turned and packed up the kit, trying to put the blackened skin and the smell from his mind as he rejoined the others. Pam handed him a bowl. He looked up as a sharp crackle filled the room.

“Shut that off,” hissed Melissa, “someone will hear it.”

Rickey fiddled with the volume on the dusty television. “I just want to see if there’s anyone broadcasting. A hotel movie on a loop or something. Public access, a technical difficulties screen, anything. I just want to see something human.”

“It’s been eight years. There’s no generator still running. You aren’t going to find–” Melissa stopped suddenly as a well-groomed woman appeared on the screen. Rickey almost fell off the bench he was standing on. Everyone else was utterly silent.

“…Farm is warning of a frost overnight tonight, so if you’ve already plowed, it should be a good day for rock picking tomorrow. Double shifts are requested at the Farm for the next few days in preparation for the growing season and to ensure that everyone that wants to has the opportunity to attend the trial without production falling behind. We’ve received fresh news from the prison on the December Plague Trial, the warden reports that Dr. Gerta Schneider, long sought in connection with this case, has turned herself in to the authorities without incident. Judge Hawkins has asked us to report that she will stand trial at the same time as Dr. Pazzo and Anne Connelly when court resumes on Monday, her defense having been prepared by her attorney in her absence.” The woman’s voice was calm and clear, practiced.

“It must be coming from the City,” said Molly, her spoon still hanging in the air between her mouth and the bowl.

“Shh,” said Rickey.

The newswoman continued, “In other recent news, the final Cure team has sent word back to headquarters. There have been no new survivors found on this trip. The Cure team has been ordered to come home. There will not be another team sent. The Military Governor asked us to air a special address on this matter.” The screen stuttered for a second and a tired, middle-aged man at a cluttered desk appeared on the screen.

“Good evening. It’s been almost nine years since the December Plague began. I know how much you–
we
have all suffered, but with determination and cooperation, we’ve made great strides in recovering. Our City is safe. Our people are fed and warm. Electricity and communications have been restored. The people that were responsible for the outbreak are in custody and will face justice in the coming weeks. Hundreds and hundreds of Infected have been cured and returned to their families. But we will never be able to restore even a fraction of all that we’ve lost as a city, a country, a species. Our security has been hard won. Thousands of good men and women have sacrificed themselves to protect us. Their lives have consecrated this small bastion of civilization. The outside world has become a violent, wild hell. But our City remains safe and strong even in the heart of that hell.

I know how many of you still cherish secret hopes that your loved ones will be found and returned to you, even after all this time. But it is time to face the truth now. Our former way of life, our neighbors, our family members, even some of the beliefs we strove to exist by– have all perished.” The man cleared his throat and reached for a clear cup of water. He wrapped his fingers around it and turned it back and forth, but didn’t pick it up to drink. He looked back at the camera. “The Cure was a noble cause, and very effective. Without it, we would probably have been overrun long ago. I heartily salute and thank the medical teams and our militia for doing their work so thoroughly and for so very long. But our City is small. And yet, it may be that we are the largest gathering of humans remaining in the world. Within our wall lies all the remaining knowledge of centuries of human life and advancement. I know we aren’t naive. I don’t think there is one of you out there that truly believes anyone else is going to swoop in and save us after all these years. So our responsibility is great. And our resources are very limited. As much as I wish it could be otherwise, there is no one left to be saved from the Plague. No one has been found for several months, and those found in the past few years were people that avoided the first infection only to succumb much later as they emerged from their bunkers. Exposure, starvation, conflict with healthy folks or wild animals have carried off the rest. So I have recalled the Cure teams. Their expertise is desperately needed here.”

“I know what a blow that must be for some of you. Like you, I expected my loved ones to be discovered in a Cure camp every day. I checked the Found Lists every morning along with all of you. For all of us, there will be a period of mourning, one that has been long delayed by uncertainty. Though it feels as if you’ve just received fresh news of your loved ones’ deaths, today is the beginning of a safer, brighter future. With the upcoming trial, we will see our wrongs redressed, and our questions answered. The Infected are gone. We no longer need to fear them, our conflict with them is over. We can turn our attention to expanding our resources, to securing ourselves against bandits, and to restoring and repopulating beyond the Barrier. We have a great task before us now, and it is up to us, who remain behind, who live on after the fever has passed, to expand what others have fought so hard to shield. It is time for us to begin reclaiming our world, to dedicate ourselves to advancing civilization in the outside wastes.”

“That is the second reason I’ve asked to speak tonight. Scouts have reported that electricity has been restored to places beyond the boundaries of the City, either through makeshift means of generators, unconventional sources such as windmills and solar panels, or by tapping into the City lines. So some of you listening may be outside of the City itself. I want you to know that the City will welcome anyone into it’s borders. As long as you are willing to work, you will be safe, clothed, fed, housed, have access to medical care and school for your children. We have many things to offer that the outside world is now bereft of. And as I have said, we will be expanding beyond the walls of the City, now that the Cure teams have finished their work. You don’t even need to change your residence. There is nothing required of you except that you treat others with decency– both Immunes and Cured. We have all had to do things we regret, things maybe, that go against our natural beliefs and morals, just to survive. We have all stolen, looted, killed. In the past. But those things are not necessary any longer. If we work together we have more than enough. This City–
I–
will no longer tolerate looting or raiding. There will be no more ‘hunting parties’ targeting the Cured, there will be no more abuse of the weaker members of our society. This is your one chance. At this moment, the slate is wiped clean. Whatever you’ve done in the past is over. What you do from this point on, however, will determine your fate.” The man’s face lost it’s calm kindliness. It tightened, hardened as he stared now, directly into the camera. “When we arrive, and we will someday, no matter how far you are from our walls, if we find pillage or murder or torture, we
will
wipe the perpetrators out as well as any who aided them in their cruelties. Our former way of life may be gone, but we are striving to resurrect what was the best in our society, the good in our natures. We cannot turn a blind eye to those that would use our vulnerability to sway us to our worst actions toward each other. We are coming. If you’d rather live in barbarism and misery than participate in a regulated, decent society, then you had better flee as far away as you can and hope that we are too slow to catch up with you in your lifetime. We will show you no more mercy than you have shown to your victims.”