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

wall of the small space and his toes the other.

“Not much room,” she said. He folded his hands underneath his head and lay down looking at her.

“It is cozy. At least it will be warm.”

Nella grabbed her pack and started searching its depths. After a few seconds she got fed up and dumped it into her lap.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked.

“Looking for the food. I’m starving, aren’t you?” She dropped a wrapped package on his chest.

He sat up and opened it. “Yes, I forgot we hadn’t eaten today. It seems to happen often. I just never feel as hungry as I did after waking up from the Cure.”

Nella was stuffing a sweater in the door crack to keep in the heat. She heard him and stopped.

“Frank,” she said, turning slowly around to face him, “do you mind if I ask you something very personal? I wouldn’t- but I have this hunch that it’s really important. Not about you- about something else.”

“Sure,” he said, picking pieces of sandwich off of the wrapper.

“On second thought,” she said, “I’ll wait until you’re finished.”

He set aside the food. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“No, it’s not that, you weren’t. It’s just, not a great topic to discuss over dinner. Although it did make me think of it.”

Frank looked at her, bemused. “Okay,” he said, picking up the sandwich again. They ate in the bright lantern light, their limbs quickly thawing in the warmth of the small room. Nella was quiet, concentrating. Frank repacked her bag.

“All set?” he asked, “I’m going to turn off the light to save the battery if you are ready.”

“Yes, okay,” she said, noting that he was still dressed. She felt depressed thinking she had made him self conscious. He switched off the lamp and she heard the soft rustle of him sliding into the sleeping bag next to her. She slipped out of her dusty clothes. She curled herself into her own blankets, trying not to bump into Frank in the dark.

“What did you want to ask me?” his voice floated beside her in a half yawn.

“Please don’t get upset. I’m not asking out of curiosity.”

“It’s okay, you can ask me whatever you want.”

“When you were- when you were sick, you said there was plenty of food around you in the bunker.”

“Yes, there was enough for about a year for my wife and I. So about a year and a half for one person by the time I became sick.”

“But you didn’t eat it. I know one of the symptoms is pica- strange cravings, this time for- for human. But, you said you were starving by the time the Cure team found you right?”

“Yes, I’d lost over a hundred pounds. I don’t think I would have survived much longer.”

“Did you not realize you were surrounded by food after- after you ran out of immediate stuff? Or did you choose not to eat it?”

“I don’t remember being aware of it at all. In fact I probably would have died of dehydration if the toilet bowl hadn’t kept filling, but there were gallons and gallons of water around me. Where is all this going Nella?”

“One more question, I’m sorry. If someone had somehow opened the package of food for you and given it to you would you have eaten it?”

Frank was silent for a moment. “I think so. It was like I was smelling things. And people- my wife, smelled good. And the food didn’t smell like anything because it was wrapped up I think.”

Nella raised herself on one hand toward his voice. “Remember the video Dr. Pazzo made of his preparations before locking himself in? He made a point of showing the food distribution thing he rigged up for each room.”

“I remember.”

“So, do you think that food and water was sent down loose like in a pig trough or neatly wrapped like a vending machine?”

“It would have to be wrapped, it wouldn’t have slid all the way through the tubes otherwise. It would have caught and clogged-” Frank sat up and reached for her abruptly. She could feel the tension in his hand as it closed around her arm, like a wire suddenly cut loose or frayed free. “How did Robert and Ann survive for almost two years with nothing to eat or drink?”

Nella felt the hair on her arms rise as she heard him say it. “That’s where this was going,” she said.

“Someone must have been feeding them, but who? Dr. Schneider?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait to ask her. But I doubt it. She was supposed to be with Dr. Carton for most of that time. How would she be able to travel repeatedly through the Infected zones to feed them and then return to Dr. Carton?”

“I don’t like this.” He let her arm go and fell back in the dark.

“Me either. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I wasn’t sure who else I could ask that kind of question though.”

“I guess it won’t do anyone any good to worry about it much until we find Dr. Schneider,” he said, a yawn overtaking his last words, “I’ll try to stay awake if you want to talk about it though.”

“No,” she said, “I’m exhausted. I only wanted to ask so I wouldn’t forget to do it again.” She was asleep almost as soon as she stopped speaking. She woke up a few hours later because Frank was shaking beside her. She turned on the lantern and saw he was shivering in his sleep. She didn’t know how he could be cold, the stock room had become like a sauna. She could only assume it was a nightmare and felt guilty about asking about the Infection. She lay down, leaving the lantern on, her mind wandering to Dr. Pazzo and Ann. Ann could have survived for some of the time on the monkeys, Nella thought, but not long. Frank had only made it a few months and he had- she shuddered and tried not to gag. Shutting Dr. Pazzo and cannibalism out of her brain for a while, she turned toward Frank. He looked exhausted even asleep. She stroked his face, trying to wake him without startling him. He was warm, as usual, and his face became more drawn, sadder as she touched it.

“Frank,” she whispered, “Frank, wake up, it’s okay.”

He gasped and opened his eyes. “You were having a bad dream, it’s okay.”

“Is it time to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know. There’s no window. I don’t think so. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, but his hands were still shaking.

“I’m leaving the lantern on. I have another battery.” It wasn’t an offer. She wanted it on too. The dark felt overwhelming. She closed her eyes. “I’ve made a mess of everything today,” she said sleepily, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better tomorrow.”

The sound of the sleeping bag zipper was so loud it almost echoed in the small space. Nella’s eyes popped open as Frank unzipped hers too.

“I’m not dr-” she started.

“I know. I don’t care,” he said quickly and slid in beside her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She felt the tension drain out of him, like air from an old balloon as he held her, already becoming heavy with exhaustion again. He traced a pattern on her hip and her bare back with one hand until she was asleep.

When she woke, the room was cold and the lantern was dark. She could see a length of daylight spilling over her pack because the stock room door was partially open. Frank was gone.

Nella scrambled for her clothes. “Frank?” she hissed but there was no answer. She grabbed the pistol and slowly pushed the door open farther, peering around the frame. The storefront was empty. The plate glass windows seemed to expand, to focus on her and lay her bare to the world. She crouched and crept beneath them heading for the door. She realized how bad this trip would have been to make alone. She choked down the thought that something had happened to Frank. She made it to the door and gently pressed it. It opened easily. Frank must have unlocked it. She felt a little better. She looked outside, but nothing moved. Nella opened the door and stood up slowly. She slid out of the gas station and slowly walked around to the back. Frank was sitting on the edge of a pit the station had used for old tires. The air still burned with the heavy smell of rubber.

“Frank, what’s going on?” she asked. He looked up at her and she could see he was distraught.

“They were just left here,” he said looking into the pit.

Nella sat down beside him to look. If they hadn’t still had shreds of cloth around them, Nella would have thought they were just three small logs scattered among the tires. Even their thin fingers curled like twigs in the dust.

“I think this store was stripped clean a long time ago. And I don’t think the Cure teams would have missed them. We were ordered out in grids, the areas we would have missed would be miniscule. People locked away, like you, would have been missed if not. I don’t think anyone left them here Frank. Maybe they wandered in looking for food or water and couldn’t get back out. It wouldn’t take much, a broken leg or arm and they wouldn’t be able to climb up again.”

“Why would they come here?”

“I don’t know, maybe they were attracted by the light of the City? Or the debris left by the scavengers and military teams.” She put a hand on his knee. “I know you’ve heard stories about Immunes shooting the Infected for sport. I’m not going to lie and tell you it isn’t true. And after the way you’ve been treated since the Cure, I don’t blame you for being suspicious and sad. But I worked with the Cure teams, and they were good people, almost without exception. They wanted to find and help people. If anyone had known these three were here they would have brought them in for the Cure.” She stopped for a moment and watched him. “It would make me feel better if we stopped to bury them,” she said, “as best we can.”

Frank nodded. “Me too,” he said, “at least someone will remember they were human once.”

They had no tools and there wasn’t much to be had in the tire pit. The bodies had been there for a long while, not much more than dried corn husks dressed in rags. There was no smell and Nella was far less disturbed by it than she thought she would be. Less disturbed, but deeply sad. They were all broken, somehow. Slashed or bit or snapped as if they really were old wood. She tried not to think of how drawn out their last days must have been. In the end, they covered them with old