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

bothered with a smaller target like this if there were a big safety risk. They would wait until the Cure team got around to the area and then clean out the smaller houses.

Frank had found some prescription ibuprofen along with the peroxide and bandages. Nella wondered if it was still potent. She would have traded it for a tab of penicillin in a heartbeat, but they weren’t that lucky. Her arm was soaked by the time he had returned and she felt a light buzzing begin behind her nasal cavity.

“I have to lie down somewhere, or I’m not going to be much help,” she said, noticeably slurring.

He picked her up and carried her up the dusty stairs. She hoped the bedrooms were cleaner. She yanked the blankets down with her good hand as Frank put her down on the clean sheet. Dust swirled at the foot of the bed and Nella lost herself a moment in watching it.

“We’re going to need water,” Frank said, “Can you hold on a minute? I saw a duck pond behind the house. I have purification tabs.”

“I’m okay for now,” she said.

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. I’ll be right back,” he said, as if she had argued with him.

“Be careful,” she said, “Just because we only saw those doesn’t mean there aren’t more.”

“I’ll take the dart gun,” he said and squeezed her good hand gently. Nella tilted her head back against the flattened pillow as he left. The room was bright, the thin curtain sunbleached in the window. She tried to concentrate on what was around her so that the pain only crunched at the corners of her mind rather than devouring it whole. She wondered where the people were. They weren’t the Infected that had chased them- the house had been left in perfect shape. The bed had been made and she could see the clothes folded neatly in the closet. There was no disorder, no signs of scuffle or panic. Maybe they had come in to the City before things got bad. Maybe they had weathered it out in a shelter like Frank.

Nella heard footsteps on the stairs and her chest cramped in fear. But it was Frank, carrying an armload of supplies. He dropped them beside the bed and began fumbling with the envelope of water purification tablets. Nella could see him swearing under his breath at his shaking fingers.

“You have to calm down,” she said, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He got the envelope open and swished the tabs into the bucket of water. Nella hoped nothing dead had been lying in the pond.

“It’s supposed to take half an hour, but I don’t know if we have that much time. What should we do?”

“We have to clean the wounds. We can’t wait, we’ll just have to hope the tabs continue working while we do it.”

Nella was still holding his shirt against her shoulder. It was sopping and warm. She was trying not to look at it, but the wet heat was spreading across her own shirt and over her chest. The adrenaline had worn off for both of them. Nella was exhausted. Frank gently unbuttoned her blouse and she felt nauseous when his fingertips came away red and dripping.

“Do you have any towels? I think I saw a linen closet at the top of the stairs.”

He looked doubtfully at the neat pile near his feet.

“I think I have enough,” he said. She inched her way out of the shirt and clamped her hand back over her shoulder.

“Soak two of them in the water and hand one of them to me.”

The towel he handed to her was frigid and heavy. It smelled like algae. Nella dropped Frank’s soaked shirt beside her on the bed. She yelped as she squeezed the towel into a chilled bandage around her shoulder. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

He stroked her hair as he pressed still harder on the towel. “Can I give you the painkiller?”

Nella smiled. “I wish you could but not until we’re done. I have a bad scratch on my side, I think it’s already infected. Can you start there?”

She could see Frank tearing up, but he just nodded and began wiping away the blood from her chest and stomach. She flinched when he hit the groove the Infected’s nails had made.

Frank sucked in a hissing breath in sympathy. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, don’t be. You can’t be gentle. It has to be clean or it’s going to get very bad, very quickly.”

He took a deep breath, which she unconsciously mirrored. “Okay, are you ready?”

Nella clenched her teeth and shut her eyes as he scrubbed the long trench in her side. He sat up and she let her breath drain out of her in relief.

“Peroxide now?”

“Is there any dirt or sand left?”

“No, but it’s very puffy and I’d say it’s definitely infected. Was this from that guy’s filthy nails? God knows what he had growing under there.”

“Peroxide won’t kill the infection. Did you find any antibiotic or burn cream?”

Frank held up a tiny tube of ointment. “Sorry, this is all I could find.”

Nella was having trouble concentrating. “That’s not going to be enough. I need you to find the kitchen. See if you can find any honey anywhere.”

She closed her eyes as she listened to metal pots ringing as they fell. She tried to squeeze her shoulder tighter but she was becoming progressively more numb and exhausted. Frank came back, looking dejected. He held up a small jug.

“It’s mostly crystallized,” he said.

“That’s okay, just try to mix the crystals in with whatever liquid honey is left and spread it on the scratch. We’ll save the ointment for my shoulder.” She felt the world swirling around her head. “Frank, we need to go fast now.” Her voice sounded thick and furry in her ears.

He was a little rough in his panic and the tiny shards of sugar crystals pricked her back into clarity before they melted in the heat of her skin. He pressed bandages along the scratch and then gently took her hand from her shoulder. She tried not to look at the wound as he washed it. Every swipe seared and crunched, no matter how gentle he was. Nella couldn’t help the small sounds of misery that leaked from her chest and she was slippery with cold sweat within seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” Frank said, wincing.

She shrieked as he hit something jagged and he stumbled backward in surprise.

“There’s something in there. Something is in me,” she gasped.

Frank squeezed the wet towel over her shoulder, dousing in in cool water. He cautiously lifted a flap of torn skin. He was grim as he reached for the first aid kit.

“What is it? Can you see it?” she asked.

“I see it,” he said, “I’ll try to be gentle, but this is really going to hurt. You have to hold still. Can you?”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have to take it out first.” But Nella could see from his face that he had an idea.

“Get it out.” Her voice was panicked and shrill.

“You have to hold still.”

Nella clenched her uninjured hand. “I’ll hold still. Just get it out.”

Frank wiped the tweezers with alcohol. He gingerly lifted the loose slab of skin on her shoulder. The tweezers bit the sore, ragged skin twice without finding the object. They burned on her exposed nerves like an electric shock but she didn’t flinch. The third time they caught it and Frank pulled the object out. The relief was immediate, as if he had pried a large splinter out. He tried to hide it in the towel quickly, but Nella saw it anyway, gleaming white and wicked in the afternoon light. A shard of tooth had broken off inside her shoulder. She leaned over the far side of the bed and vomited. Frank stroked her head and waited until she was done and calm again. He gave her a bottle of clean water from their pack and washed her face.

“I think that was the worst of it,” he said.

Nella nodded. “Okay, this time you’ll have to use the hydrogen peroxide. Try not to use too much or it will make it harder to close the wound. You’ll have to- to lift the loose skin again,” she said gagging.

Her arm fizzed and bubbled as the dirt and grass particles streamed out of it. Frank pulled out a pill bottle. Nella shook her head, “Not yet.”

“Nella, this is going to be long and painful. If these knock you out, then why not skip this part?”

“Because I need to tell you what to do.”

“I know what I have to do. I need to sew the big chew mark closed. Then I need to put antibiotic on all the smaller wounds and bandage you up.”

“But-”

Frank put his hand up. “You have to trust me. I’m not going to let you die and I know how to sterilize a needle and sew. It’s not going to be pretty whether you are awake to watch me or not. Besides, these probably aren’t powerful enough to knock you out for several minutes. But if you flinch with every stitch, it’s going to hurt worse and take longer.”

Nella held out her hand for the pills. By the time he was three stitches in, her head felt full of sand and she shut her eyes. He hadn’t even finished the fourth stitch and she was fast asleep.

 

The Farmhouse

The metal screech of the front door invaded Nella’s dreams and she swam unwillingly back into consciousness. For a few seconds she just lay in the dark, feeling the hot throb of her shoulder like the breath of a panting dog, coming and going, but never gone. She squinted, trying to see Frank in the strange, darkened room, but she couldn’t see him. The front door snapped shut below her, reminding her of what had woken her up. She sat up too quickly, fearing the Infected had entered the house. The world fell like shifting sand around her. Nella quickly bent over, wanting to vomit. After a breath or two, she lifted her head again. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed as a pair of thuds rose up from the stairway. She stood up and winced at the touch of the cold wood on her bare feet. Frank had taken off her shoes and bloody clothes and cleaned up the room. She shivered in just her underwear and tottered toward the bedroom door, which hung open like a broken jaw. A board betrayed her with a snapping creak, and Nella’s heart froze solid in her chest as footsteps came bounding up the stairs. She fell the rest of the way into the hallway and pulled herself up on the doorknob. She scrambled backward, slamming the door as a figure darker than the night around it,