The Cured (32 page)

Melissa stood up. “It was a disease. We aren’t the enemy, you can’t treat us like captured soldiers. This wasn’t a
war
!”

The Governor too, shot up, his rolling chair hitting the wall behind him with a bang. “Yes it fucking
was!
You people always say that, but you don’t know. For years we fought people like you. Years! You pushed us back into this small City until there were only a few thousand of us left. I watched people like you tear apart my men, piece by gory piece. Men caught beyond the wall when a cluster of you would hit. They’d scream for us to shoot them so they didn’t have to feel your terrible claws and teeth any longer. I had to bury you. Hundreds, thousands. Every day for years, so that the City’s water didn’t make us sick. So rodents didn’t eat you and bring in disease. We starved behind the Barrier for months between scavenging efforts. All things you’ve been blissfully unaware of for almost ten years. And now you come here, to the place
I
sweat and bled for, and you complain about what’s been done to you. It absolutely
was
war, of the bloodiest, most desperate type. It’s bad enough we have to find work and food and shelter for you–” the Governor stopped himself and took a deep breath. Vincent had recovered enough to look up at him in shock and Melissa was speechless standing across from him. Rickey, alone, looked unsurprised. The Governor turned around and found his chair. “I’m sorry,” he said wheeling it back, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. It’s been a very long week, but that is no excuse. Again, I’m sorry for what you have been through. The best thing for us all to do is to move forward and try to leave the past behind us. Life is better here, and you need never repeat your experiences. I hope you will stay. But I cannot risk tearing this entire society apart just to punish one man.”

Rickey laughed and it was a bitter, dry snort. “Yeah, you already did that this week.”

“I’m sorry but that’s my final word. I’ve already warned Mr. Broom, but I will reiterate for the rest of you; the City does not tolerate vigilantes. If I find out that any harm has come to the gravedigger, I’ll know where to look. Avoid him. Forget that you ever met him. Pretend he died in your escape. Whatever you need to do to get by. If you cannot, I suggest you leave now, before you commit a criminal act that would result in your own execution.”

Henry helped Vincent up. He felt dazed, as if something had shorted out, missed the connection within his brain. Melissa’s face was slack and expressionless, as if she felt the same. He grabbed her hand and began leading her and the priest out of the office. Rickey was still fuming though. Henry nudged the door open just as Rickey began shouting. “You just remember that we were here, that we warned you. You remember when your asshole itches and burns because you refused to wipe that piece of shit out. We warned you. You think this City is going to survive? Even
you
can’t hide how you really feel about living with the Cured. Others have a lot less reasons to pretend to be polite than you do. If this new Plague doesn’t kill us all, you’re going to have a
real
war on your hands in a few years.”

The secretary was staring open mouthed, at them as they left the office. Henry blushed and hurried them out into the street, away from everything that had just happened. Melissa sat down on the building’s worn stone steps. Rickey sauntered down them and sat next to her, pulling out a flimsy hand wrapped cigarette. He lit it and held up his hand toward the building, flipping off the blank windows.

“Well that didn’t go quite as I expected,” said Henry, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Really?” Rickey grinned and half closed his eyes against a puff of smoke. “That’s pretty much exactly the reaction I thought we’d get.”

Melissa started to cry. “What do we do now? We can’t stay here. We can’t live like this.”

“Aw, now, don’t cry,” said Rickey, putting a scrawny arm around her neck. “Let’s go somewhere else to figure it out. These government buildings give me the creeps. What do you think, Vincent, you up for a round of pool?”

Vincent shook his head. “I’m going home. I don’t want to be around strangers just now. You can come if you want. I’ll make dinner.”

They stood up and walked away from the cold, granite building. Henry was the only one who didn’t spend the walk wondering why he hadn’t stayed at the farmhouse. A new desire was taking place in Henry’s head. Free to think of alternatives now that the civilized courses had failed him, a dark plan began to solidify in his chest.

Thirty-six

Henry stared out of the rectory window toward the church. It was too dark to see the cemetery but he knew it was there. He imagined Phil slumped on his couch, his thick boots flaking mud in the corner, the television blaring. Henry wondered what the man thought about when he was alone.

“We can’t leave without giving Molly and Pam the chance to go with us,” said Vincent as he lit the stove. Henry turned to look at him.

“Pam’s family may decide to stay. But I don’t think Molly knows anyone except us. Of course, after all this time at the hospital she may have made better friends with the nursing staff. Still, we should give her the option.”

“How long’s this quarantine thing supposed to last?” asked Rickey.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen another broadcast, have you?”

“The soldiers at the barricade said at least a week, probably closer to a month,” said Melissa, setting the table with tiny clinks in the corner.

“A month?” groaned Rickey.

“We still have to figure out where we’re going and how we’re going to make it work. That will probably take us about that long.” said Henry, turning back to the window.

“Why are you so calm?” asked Melissa, “Out of all of us, I thought you’d be the one in a rage.”

“Because after meeting the Governor the first time, I was the only one that didn’t expect anyone to help us.”

Melissa sat in a chair with a sigh. She clicked her silverware together on the table. “How can they live like this? All piled together in a heap, each pretending as if everything were normal. Meanwhile each knows they are working with, trading with, maybe even sleeping with people that killed those they loved. How do they do it?”

Vincent looked up sharply. “Because they have to. What’s the alternative? Should the Cured be forced to live separately from the Immunes? Should we all live apart from each other, just in case? We can’t survive that way. And we aren’t the first to do it either. Passions, wars, diseases, violence all pass. Neighbors still must live together, rely on each other, afterward. You think I’m old fashioned– you think my calling makes me naïve or vulnerable,” he turned toward Henry, “but there are real, effective reasons that concepts like turning the other cheek have lasted so long.”

Henry stared back at Vincent, feeling a hot bubble of anger fill his chest. “An eye for an eye is even older, Father.”

Vincent nodded. “There is of course, a place and time for justice. You’ve asked how we can live among murderers. We too, have murdered. If we expect to take a life from those who have taken one from us, shouldn’t we pay with ours as well? We’re all guilty. We might as well lie down and die right now, because if we stick with an ‘eye for an eye’ then the species is doomed.”

“I can’t forgive him, Vincent. I can’t see him healthy and thriving every day. It will destroy me,” said Melissa.

“I know. That’s why we need to leave. I wish we could stay, I think we could do very well here. I confess, I expected more from the Governor. An investigation at least, some kind of help. But it seems he blames people like us for all of the City’s troubles. Even if Phil were not the issue, I know now that we are not welcome here. Not really. We could spend the rest of our lives fighting for acceptance here or we could spend it fighting for existence out there. I will choose what you choose.”

They were all silent for a few moments. Vincent went back to cooking. “Can you find your way back to that farm?” asked Rickey.

“Yes,” said Melissa, “it should be easy to get to.”

“We’re no better off than when we left it in the first place Rickey,” said Vincent, “we face the same problems we did before we came.”

“In a month Henry and I will be strong enough to plow a garden at least.”

“It may be too late to plant in a month.”

Rickey nodded. “I know, that’s why we should go back to that suburb. We only made a quick check. There is probably more we could use.”

“There were already other people there,” Henry reminded him.

“Just a kid, maybe a few kids. We can save up any extra credits we have and buy supplies on our way out just in case we can’t find anything. If we pool all of our credits we should have a lot.”

“You don’t think someone will try to stop us if they see us stockpiling?” asked Melissa.

Rickey shrugged. “Why should they? There’s no law against leaving is there? And if we are open about why we’re leaving, maybe other people will be interested in joining us. After today, we’re going to be watched. Why not just be honest? At least we’ll have some people on our side then.”

“Because I still don’t want Phil knowing who we are,” said Henry, “He’s still dangerous. Just because the Governor has scruples about revenge doesn’t mean that Phil does. If you must talk, let it be about Cureds versus Immunes, not about what happened to us.”

Melissa scowled. “He should be exposed. The whole City should know what he’s done. If he decides to attack me out in the open, so much the better, it will be more proof.”

Henry sat down across from her. “He won’t attack you in the open. He won’t attack you at all. He’ll go after your coworkers, your friends. Pam’s kids. Vincent’s parishioners. That’s how he ran his camp. He held onto something dear to everyone, always threatening.”

“So we’re just supposed to leave and let him continue this better life without any consequence at all?”

Henry leaned back in his seat and looked steadily at her. He could hear Rickey and Vincent a few feet away dishing out food and talking in low voices. “No,” he said, his voice a spare, distant rumble traveling toward her, “that isn’t what’s going to happen.”

Melissa shifted and leaned in toward him. “What are you going to–” But Rickey slid a plate of food in front of her and they talked no more that night.

Henry wandered back to his tiny house a few hours later. He flipped on the lights and closed the door. He looked at the couch where he had been sleeping. He stumbled into the lone bedroom, the twin bed neatly made, waiting for Marnie. He sat on the edge of the bed, his mind constantly shuttling between his broken promise to Elizabeth and everything, everyone he’d lost. He slept in the bed, dreaming of his father and sister, of Dave and Elizabeth and Marnie, of Wyatt and Mrs. Palmer in her shattered apartment.

Thirty-seven

Henry paced inside the All-Work warehouse ten minutes after the others had left for the Farm. Phil was late again. Melissa had offered Henry a spot on her delivery team so he wouldn’t have to meet Phil again, but Henry had refused. He told her it was so that one of them could keep an eye on Phil, warn the others in case he started to suspect them. But the truth was that Henry was determined to know if Marnie had really died, whether she’d suffered, where Phil had dumped her. Henry was going to find out in the next month. And then Phil was going to pay, limb by bloody limb for what he’d taken.

Phil lumbered into the warehouse, yawning. “Oh,” he said, realizing he and Henry were the only ones left, “You didn’t need to wait for me, I know the way now.”

Henry felt a grin eat away at his clenched jaw. “No problem,” he said, “It’s not like the seeds are going to notice a few minutes either way.” He slid a bundle over toward Phil.

“Where were you yesterday?” asked Phil as he shouldered the tool bag.

“One of the delivery crew was sick and they really needed someone to take his place. Why?”

“The little split tail that runs this place got her panties in a bunch when you weren’t around. But then that darkie farmer said he knew where you was and she cooled off right quick.”

Henry felt a tremor of revulsion pass through his gut to hear Stephanie and Amos talked about that way. But he just grinned wider and said, “Ain’t that always the way with women though? Always poking their noses into other people’s business before they take care of their own.”

“Tell me about it,” said Phil, “some of ‘em just need a man to put ‘em back in their place. Especially now. Thank goodness that whole women’s lib thing’s gone the way of the dodo, now that they need us again.”

“Have you got a woman?” Henry asked, hating himself as he did so.

Phil walked toward the door. “Nah, not since the camp I was in before,” he rubbed the scar on his jaw.

“Didn’t she come with you to the City?” asked Henry. He said it casually but his heart banged and popped in his chest like a string of ladyfingers. They stepped out of the cool building into the shimmering spring morning. Phil squinted against it.

“No, she didn’t make it. Most of my mates didn’t make it.”

“Jesus, what happened? I though you brought all your people here.”

Phil nodded. “I would’ve. I really would’ve Henry, but remember how I told you I was taking care of my sick friend, the other Henry?”

“Sure,” said Henry, his muscles beginning to ache with built-up adrenaline.