After the Cure, Deirdre Gould [the beach read TXT] 📗

know it's going to get better right?” he asked, “The world's going to get better. The Infected zones are going to get smaller and the people that are left will pick up again and go forward.”

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She laughed at herself. “Well, if all I have to worry about is a few luxuries, then things can't be that bad right?”

He closed the book in his hand. “That's not what I meant.”

“I know,” she said, “But I think you were right this morning. No one is going to come along and put the world back together the way it was,” she picked up a glass and poured it half full with alcohol. “I think people expect this trial to do just that. They are expecting to find someone to blame, something to make sense of the whole thing. But I think the world is just too broken for that to work. Sometimes there's no real explanation, no justification for things that happen.”

“Some things just are?”

She nodded.

“I still think people need some sort of attempt at an explanation.”

“But we've just seen the closest thing to an entire explanation that there is. I don't feel any better, do you?” She really was crying now, and though she tried to stop, it just kept coming. Before she could wipe her eyes again to see, Frank had crossed the bright kitchen and folded his long arms around her in a hug. She didn't try to push him away.

“No,” he said, “I feel worse. But it's a relief to know anyway. Don't you think?”

She felt a fast hitch start in his chest and realized he was trying not to cry as well. She reached her arms out to hug him back. They stood there like that for several minutes, two almost-strangers aching for the world that was lost in the gnashing jaws of disease and worrying for the world that was found on the other side of it. At last, when she felt his breath warm and calm again, she stepped back, wiped her eyes, and said, “Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel worse.”

He cleared his throat. “You didn't. I feel calmer than I have all day.” He reached for her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Come on, I'm starving. And I think I found a recipe we can actually make.”

 

A Setback

The rum was gone. The amaretto was making angry bubbles in Nella's stomach, but she didn't care. Her hand didn't hurt and her heart didn't hurt and she wasn't alone in the silent apartment building. In the dark, empty world.

Frank sat across from her, unfolded like a carpenter's rule on the couch. He was looking at the bookshelf beside him, his fingers tracing the cracked spines. His face was softened in the lamplight and though the scar that shattered his cheek still glowed like an almost-dead ember, Nella thought he didn't look quite as ugly as she'd thought before.

“My wife had some of these books,” he said, without looking at her, “I think she would have liked you.”

“Really? What makes you think that?”

He thought for a minute. “The way you treat people. You seem ready to believe that people are better than they appear at first. That there's a reason they are the way they are. And the way you are kind to people like Ann, people so damaged they appear to be monsters to others. And that you defend them from people that want to treat them that way. She would have liked that. I like that.”

“What was she like?”

He pulled a battered book from the shelf and played with the fray in the spine. “She was kind and funny and intelligent. She challenged me. She was a lawyer, like me. But she helped write cases for human rights violations at international tribunals, unlike me.”

“Is that why you decided to participate in this case?”

“I think it was part of it,” he glanced up at her with a small smile and then back at the book. “I thought it would make her proud, even if she couldn't forgive me.”

Nella leaned forward, “I don't understand Frank, you were ill, how could you think she wouldn't forgive you for something you had no control over?”

He sighed, and retreated into the couch. “It's not that- I mean, it is that, but it was my fault.” He shook his head. “I don't want to talk about it with you.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-”

“No, you don't understand. It's not that I mind you knowing. I just, I don't want to be one of your patients. I don't want you to see me that way.”

Nella was startled. “I don't. I don't see you that way.” She paused, still confused. “How do you want me to see you?”

Frank grinned and relaxed, leaning forward again. “Don't pay any attention to me,” he said shaking his head, “It's been a long time since I had any alcohol. I think I can safely say that I'm very drunk.”

Nella smiled. “I'll get you some blankets, we should get some sleep.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I can walk, you can come pick me up tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Of course you aren't walking. I'll be right back. The bathroom is free if you want it.”

She tried to make the couch as comfortable as she could, but she knew it was about a foot too short for his frame. Frank returned from the bathroom still smelling impossibly clean after a long day in an old suit.

“Thank you,” he said, “I swear I wasn't angling for an invite.”

“I know. To be honest, I'm glad you're staying. The world seems far too lonely after today. Sometimes I feel like a stray pebble rattling around in an empty shoe.” She hugged herself, then shook her head and smiled at him. “Never mind my rambling. I'm a little drunk too. Goodnight Frank.”

He grinned. “Goodnight Nella.” He touched her arm. “Things will look better in the morning you know,” he said.

Nella smiled, but her eyes filled with tears again. She nodded and then walked into her bedroom.

It was much later than she expected when she finally woke up. She swore under her breath and sat up, wincing at the immediate headache. She got dressed in a daze and wandered out into the living room. Frank was calmly ironing his over shirt on her counter. His right arm was covered with small, jagged moons of raised, angry skin and one rough starburst in his shoulder. An exact opposite of the sky. Nella tried to hide her shock when he looked up and smiled at her. He ignored her stare and said, “Good morning,” instead of offering any explanation and made no move to put his dress shirt on. “I hope you don't mind I used the washer. I guess I'm still not used to normal procedures, like private property.” He chuckled.

“No, of course not. Anything you like,” she said almost absently. “I'm sorry, I know you wanted to get to the prison early and I've completely overslept.”

“I don't think we're going to get an interview with Dr. Pazzo today,” Frank said and his face was grim.

“What? But what about finding Dr. Schneider's lab?”

Frank sighed. “I called the prison this morning to see when he would be ready for us. The guard told me he was refusing to speak to either of us for the day. Yesterday exhausted him and he needs time to recover he said.” He looked up from his shirt. “Do you think this is more stalling on his part? Because eventually my contact from the military police is going to call me back. Should I tell Dr. Pazzo that and see if it forces his hand?”

“No,” said Nella and paused for a moment, thinking. “That will just make him angry. The minute he thinks he has lost control of us he'll turn to someone else that he thinks he can control. And we can't afford to let anyone else know about the bacteria.”

“So you still think he's using this information as a way to gain the upper hand?”

“I was surprised that he actually had valuable information to back up his hints, but his attitude coupled with his complete enmity for Dr. Schneider tells me he is still using the information to get something. I don't think he's necessarily trying to escape trial and sentencing any longer. I think he is trying to make it urgent that we find Dr. Schneider so she won't escape. I don't think he's going to give us the information we need to find the bacteria until we find her. He'll give us the location of the lab, eventually, but it is only because he doesn't believe the bacteria is still there. He thinks we'll find her, or some trace of her there.”

“What do we do then? For all we know the bacteria is already destroyed. Dr. Schneider presumably escaped the university lab in order to destroy it. We just need to find her and ask.”

“Maybe I can find out from Ann.”

“Nella, I know you’re good at what you do, but Ann is permanently damaged. No one can even get a coherent version of events from her. What's the likelihood that she'll even remember Dr. Schneider's old address let alone be able to tell us in any logical way?”

“We have to try. I think there is more in her mind than we've seen so far. She's our best bet for now.”

Frank turned off the iron and picked up his dress shirt. “Okay, if you really think you can get something from her, I'll try to persuade Dr. Pazzo to meet with us or at least tell us what he knows. I can try my contact again too.”

 

 

 

The Mansion

They were rolling past the silent mansion again on their way back to the prison when it hit Nella like shattering glass. She grabbed Frank's arm and the car slid across the empty lanes. “Stop the car,” she said, “I remember where I saw her. Stop the car.”

“Jesus, Nella! Okay, don't kill us.”

She barely waited for him to pull off the side of the road. When she opened her door, the tires were still spitting gravel at her ankles.

“Just a second! Where are you going?” Frank yelled out the open door. Nella walked back toward the mansion, her hands shaking inside her jacket pocket as they fumbled for her phone. Frank ran up behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Do you know if there is cell service here?”

Frank stammered. “What? I've never been here- I guess so, I mean we're close enough to the prison that the tower there should cover it. I don't know which ones have been fixed out here.”

Nella swore and started dialing. “Sevita, pick up the phone. Sevita, it's me, pick up the phone. I need to know when you recorded that footage of Dr. Carton's house. The one with the