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

she could and destroy it before anyone else could. That's what she said when she left a few weeks ago. She said it’d been weighing on her. I told her not to worry about it. It's still far into the Infected zones. It's not like the Infected will find it. And I highly doubt there are scavengers out that far. But she was insistent. She packed up a carload of all the survival gear I could still wrangle from the military and a stock of Cure darts and took off.”

“We need to know where the laboratory is.” Frank's voice was low and threatening and Nella felt her skin curdle at the violence in it.

“Didn't you hear me? I said it was overrun. There's no way you’ll even get close. It was a suicide mission for her and it will be for anyone that follows her.”

“You survived.”

“I had to act like the Infected. And I was fleeing toward what was left of civilization.”

“Someone is eventually going to reach that lab Dr. Carton. It may not be soon, but someday, somebody will. If we go now maybe we can stop the next plague before it begins.”

Dr. Carton sighed and shook his head. “Very well. It's your neck you're risking, not mine. Come upstairs with me and I'll draw you a map and get you some Cure darts from the safe.”

The thought of getting into the elevator with Dr. Carton again made Nella nauseated all over again. She pressed herself into the corner as far from his stench as she could and tried to think of anything except what she'd heard in the past hour.

They made a quick exit after that, especially when it became clear that he was about to prepare his dinner. None of them wanted to think about the slab of defrosting meat in the stainless steel kitchen sink. They slunk out of the side door again and through the hedge, not wanting any passers by to question them. Christine was waiting for them in the car, her face like an angel of sanity. In six years Nella had never seen Sevita cry, but she did when she got in the car and Chris kissed her.

“Let's get out of here Chris,” she said, “I never want to see this house again.”

Christine took the long way to Nella's apartment so they wouldn't have to pass by the mansion again. Christine didn't ask any questions and they were silent until they parked. They sat in the car for a long moment without moving.

“Chris, why don't you take the car tonight. You don't need to ride your bikes in the dark. I'll walk over Monday morning,” Nella said at last.

“Are you sure?” Christine asked, “That's an early morning for you.”

“I'll pick you up before court Nella, we can pick up your car after the session on Monday,” Frank offered.

Nella smiled. “There, it's all set then.” She slid out of the car. Frank followed her.

Sevita rolled down the window. “Nella,” she called. Nella leaned down to talk to her. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to forget it tonight, maybe forget it until Monday. Then I'm going to go to court for the first day of trial, just like you. Just like Frank. Then I’ll think about what I need to do. I'm the only one who only has to make occasional appearances in court.”

“You can't go alone,” said Sevita.

“Let's not talk about it today. Just say goodnight Sevita.”

“Goodnight. See you on Monday.”

Nella waved as the car pulled away. Frank was a solid shadow in the dark beside her. “Do you want me to say 'goodnight' too?” he asked.

She thought he might be smiling but she couldn't see. She hoped that he wasn't. “No,” she said, and she wasn't smiling. She took his hand and led him through the dark parking lot and up the silent, lifeless stairs.

 

Flotsam

She felt a sigh of relief travel from her throat to the base of her foot as she stepped through her doorway. She immediately felt guilty. “I'm sorry Frank, you probably want to be home in your own space relaxing.”

Frank grinned for the first time in what seemed like days. “Are you serious? Neither of us would be relaxing if I was at home. I'd be pacing the floor worrying about what you were planning. And you'd be- well, you'd be planning.”

Nella laughed. “I'm too tired to plan.”

Frank's grin faded. “You aren't going alone.”

“Let's not worry about it just yet. I'm sick of being scared.”

He gently grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. “We don't have to talk about it right now Nella, but you aren't going alone. I may seem like an amiable pushover sometimes, but I mean it.”

Nella dropped her eyes for a second and then looked steadily at him. “We don't need to argue about it now.”

“Or ever,” he said. She shook her head and smiled. She walked away from him toward the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To brush my teeth. I can still taste that house in my throat.”

“I'm going to get a change of clothes from the car then.”

Nella turned around. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

Frank looked confused. “No, I know right where my bag is. Are you okay?”

Nella smiled but it wavered like a false reflection. “Yeah, just nervous I guess.”

“I'll be right back, I promise.”

“I know,” she said and went to clean off the stench of Dr. Carton.

She was in the closet carefully packing away the guns when he came back. She jumped when he said in a low voice from behind her, “I'm glad we didn't have to use those.”

“Me too,” she said and shoved the trunk back against the closet wall. It hit with a bang she hadn't intended and she tensed again.

“Nella, you have to calm down. What is it you are scared of? That old man?” She could see a ripple of revulsion pass up Frank's frame. “He's sick, there's no doubt about that, but surely this isn't so far afield from things you've had patients dealing with during the Cure, is it?”

Nella waved a hand dismissively as she backed out of the closet and shut the door. “No,” she said, “it's not Dr. Carton. I've just had this overwhelming feeling of dread since we left the prison today. I don't know why, but I keep thinking I'm overlooking something important. As if everything depends on me figuring it out and as if something or someone is going to stop me before I can.”

Nella shrugged. “I don't know,” she sighed, “it's probably nothing. I think the pressure is just making me jumpy.”

Frank's face was tight and anxious. Nella laughed and patted his arm. “Don't worry. I'm not quite cracked yet. A little paranoia is healthy.” He didn't relax. She looked at him for a moment. “I'm glad you're here,” she said.

“Me too,” he said with an immediate smile. Nella felt her interior gravity shift. It startled her and she walked into the kitchen before he could say or do anything else.

“Come on,” she called back to him, “You must be starving. I am.”

“Really? After hearing all that, you’re still hungry?”

Nella paused for a moment. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“All right. Let me change first. Besides I made lunch, it's your turn to cook,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Nella watched the steam curl out of the bottom of the bathroom door as she cooked. She had always been comfortable in her apartment. She didn't go looking for things to add to it, they just sort of found her. Gifts from friends or things she'd saved from empty, abandoned places. Like her cookbooks. Her life was like a net gathering bits of flotsam after the storm. She didn't go looking for people to add to her life either. She didn't push people away, at least, she didn't think she did. But sometimes people seemed to swirl around her and stick when she was least prepared for it. Less and less lately. She watched the warm, clean mist creeping out of the bathroom and wondered if Frank was one of those people. She realized she was lonely. Nella sighed. What was she thinking? She was a psychiatrist hired to be an impartial observer for the most important trial in history. Even having the defense counsel over for dinner was seriously questionable. And now they were both privy to something that could change not only the outcome of the trial but the fate of civilization as well. She tried to be rational. I'm a logical person, not some weak-willed woman who runs after other people for affection or protection. Nella immediately felt ashamed of the thought. Why was she feeling so judgmental? Was it what others would think? Or what she thought of herself? She rapped her wooden spoon on the side of the pot in an angry burst. Why did she even like him? She knew very little about him. He was pleasant, but she had met many pleasant men over the years and never thought twice about it. Perhaps it was simply the pressure of the trial. But she rejected that as well. She had survived far worse without turning to intimacy for comfort. He was not pretty. Even now, she could admit that. Too thin and and angular, dark scars twisting his face and arms, and still visibly fragile and pallid from long illness. No one would think that he was handsome. But it had been a while since Nella had found him ugly, despite all that. She was having a terrible time trying to convince herself that he wasn't attractive. Because, of course, he was. She didn't know if it was something physical, like the grace with which he moved his ridiculously long limbs when she expected him to constantly be tripping over himself, or if it was something deeper and less defined. Nella had noticed Frank's patience with people even when he was unfairly treated and she didn't ignore his kindness to everyone around him and most especially toward herself. Nella was modest, but she wasn't blind. Frank had been sending clear signals. She knew he was just waiting to find out if she felt the same way about him. She felt a pang of sympathy when she realized he had reasons to be less confident than she. She wondered if he’d been rejected many times since the Cure or if he’d ever been able to move past the death of his wife. Nella felt ridiculous and self conscious. She scolded herself into concentrating on what she was doing. The constant, quiet splash of the shower ended and Nella could feel panic set in. That's enough, she thought, stop being silly Nella. I can't do anything until after the trial. Otherwise we'll both lose our jobs. She