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

happen anymore. Because of her work, Nella had more contact with other people than was the norm. But Nella didn’t have many friends, or even very many colleagues. Sevita and Chris were her new family and she spent almost every evening walking to or from their small apartment.

Warm and slightly buzzed on skunky beer, Nella listened with her eyes half closed as the couple had the same good natured argument that they had for years.

“You have a fear of commitment. Tell her Nella.”

Sevita scowled. “No I don’t. You are just having a reaction to the disaster around us. It’s natural. People after the Black Death bred like rabbits. And again after the last world war. I just want to make sure this isn’t some short term shack up. You’ll get cold feet in six months, I know it.”

Chris smacked Sevita lightly on the knee. “It’s been eight years!”

Nella snorted and almost dropped her beer.

“What are you laughing at?” grumbled Sevita, “You’re supposed to be on my side. You should be telling Christine that she’s just bowing to peer pressure and she should strive to make up her own mind.”

“Oh no,” laughed Nella, “I know better than to get in the middle of this mess. I’m going to get dessert while you two duke it out.” She winked at Sevita and went into the tiny kitchen. Nella pulled out Sevita’s enamel canister. It still smelled warm and sweet like the tea it had held so long ago. Now it was the temporary home for Christine’s engagement ring. Nella had known it was there for years, a warm sparking star waiting for Sevita to grow some courage. Nella smiled. She remembered the day Sevita had bought it. The two of them had stood in front of the scavenger’s shop window and debated for hours. Nella placed it on the plate next to Christine’s apple crisp. She sighed. It should have been chocolate cake and champagne, not fruit jumble and stale beer. But Nella had checked, both had been far, far out of reach. She wondered if any of them would ever taste chocolate again. It didn’t matter, of course, she decided. She looked around the tiny kitchen, its warm yellow paint and cluttered cupboards peeking through pictures and tiny glittering ornaments that Christine collected like a magpie. This place pushed out the empty world. How much this little home would change in the next year! Nella could almost forgive the DHRS for forcing people into parenthood if it could put the world back together like this.

“Garcon!” called Sevita, laughing.

“Oh! Coming!” yelled Nella, picking up the dessert tray.

 

A Maintenance Man for the End of the World

Nella arrived at the prison early the next morning. The happiness of her friends still sat like a warm stone in her chest and she barely even noticed the clammy drizzle. She pulled into visitor parking and noticed Mr. Courtlen arguing with a short, portly, middle aged man. Nella got out of the car but paused in the open doorway when she heard their raised voices.

“Your client is a monster Frank!” shouted the older man, “He locked her in a room full of infected animals and abandoned her for months.”

“She was already infected! What should he have done?” Mr. Courtlen’s long arms were stretched toward the other man, almost pleading.

“I can’t believe you are going to blame this all on Ann. She was an overworked, practically abused intern that was then exposed to a vile plague that your client cooked up.” The fat little man was jabbing a finger toward Mr. Courtlen’s face. “And you have the gall to try to weasel out of this by pointing to her?”

“No, that’s not what-”

“Listen Frank,” the little man talked over Mr. Courtlen, “I know you are court appointed to defend Robert Pazzo but how could you live with yourself if you destroy an innocent person? She’s already incapable of ever leading a normal life because of what your client did. If you make a deal with the prosecutors claiming that Ann was responsible, she’ll be completely at the mercy of the court. She can’t even coherently defend herself. Can you live with yourself knowing that?” The little man walked a step past Mr. Courtlen.

“But we’re not-”

The lawyer spun around and interrupted him again. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot who I was dealing with. You’re already comfortable destroying a defenseless woman.” The little man sneered and Nella thought Mr. Courtlen would hit him. But Frank’s shoulders sagged and he leaned his back against his car as if he were the one who had been punched. She watched the older lawyer trot into the prison and though she didn’t even know his name and she knew she was supposed to be a neutral party, in that moment Nella truly hated the nasty, strident little man.

She was utterly still, not knowing whether to pretend she had seen nothing or check to see if Frank were okay. He put a hand to his forehead but didn’t move. Nella closed her car door and watched him start. He hadn’t even seen her drive in. He turned around and his face was dark red. The ragged scar on his cheek pulsed purple. Nella thought he was angry but he managed a small, tight smile and she realized he was only surprised and embarrassed.

“Good morning, Dr. Rider,” he said, and his voice was smooth and calm.

“Are you okay?” she asked, circling her car towards him. He rubbed the back of his neck and his smile loosened and grew.

“I’m fine. It’s not like I’ve never been called a monster before. I’ve even called myself worse on occasion. Mr. Grant just doesn’t understand that we’re not practicing law from Before. He wants things to work the same as they used to. He thinks that the world just has this out of order sign temporarily tacked to it. Any minute a maintenance guy is going to come along and plug the world back in and everything will go back to what it was.”

Nella sighed. “I doubt he’s the only one that thinks that.”

“He can’t believe that this trial is about anything other than getting his client released. He thinks that’s my goal too. Mr. Grant is expecting me to make some kind of deal with the prosecution by sacrificing Ann Connelly in return for a lighter sentence for Dr. Pazzo.”

Mr. Courtlen walked to his trunk and waved his keys as he talked. “I’m not stupid,” he said, “I know my client is never going to walk out of here. Hell, I probably won’t even be able to stall his execution. But that was never the point of all this.”

Nella heard Sevita’s words echo in her head as he disappeared behind the opening trunk lid.

“What is your goal Mr. Courtlen?” she asked.

He slammed the trunk. “Well, it’s to help my client to have his say and to find out about what really happened. Dr. Pazzo has promised to tell the world the truth. So I have promised to defend him as well as I could. We both understand that he is not likely to escape this.”

“And you believe him?” Nella kept her voice neutral.

Frank opened a black umbrella and walked up to her. “Please,” he said, holding it out for her, “It’s cold out here.”

Instead of reaching for it, Nella stepped underneath the umbrella with him. He smelled almost impossibly clean, like fresh shaving foam and wind dried linen. Nella was dismayed to realize that she had expected him to smell like the other Infected she had met during the Cure. They had been putrid and coppery with rotten meat and dried blood. She tried to put the memory from her head and scolded herself for her prejudice.

“Yes, I believe he’s going to tell the truth,” continued Frank, “I also believe he’s guilty of at least helping to start this whole thing, because he admits it, as you will see. But everyone deserves to say their piece. Mr. Grant has this delusion that because I was Infected I have some affinity for Robert Pazzo. But I have more reason to hate my client than many.” He watched her face as he spoke, “The things I’ve done, what I have lost- what we all have lost because of this terrible plague. How could I be his friend?”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m sorry. It’s cold and wet and I’ve kept you here complaining about unimportant things.” He touched her elbow and this time she didn’t shudder. “We should go in,” he said.

“I think it is important,” replied Nella as they walked toward the prison, “How can you defend him if you are convinced he is guilty?”

Mr. Courtlen laughed. “I’m hardly the first lawyer to ever believe his client is guilty.”

“No, I suppose not. But if you hold him responsible for all of your loss-”

“Who is left in the world who doesn’t hold him responsible for their losses? Besides, it’s far, far more complicated than it seems. I believe he plans to start telling you the story today.”

They reached the heavy glass door and Nella held it open for him as he shook the chill out of the umbrella.

“We didn’t expect you this early though,” he said.

“I was told that this was the best time to speak with Miss Connelly’s council.” Nella felt guilty saying it, but pushed the feeling aside.

“Ah, I see,” said Mr. Courtlen with a small smile, “Well, I’ll see you later this morning then.”

“Will ten o’clock be alright?”

“I think that will be fine. I’ll see you then, Dr. Rider.”

And because he still seemed shrunken somehow, still red with embarrassment, she added, “I look forward to it.”

His smile warmed and he stood a little straighter. Nella walked down the hall to the metal detector without looking back at him.

 

The Teeth Must Gnash

Mr. Grant was pacing the hall in front of Ann Connelly’s cell. When he saw Nella, a grin split his round face so quickly that Nella felt queasy. He quickly smothered the grin, but Nella was too distracted by the dull thuds coming from Ann’s cell to notice.

She opened the cell door and saw Ann much changed from what she had been the day before. Wells was trying to hold her back from flinging herself into the walls and Johnson was speaking calmly to her and holding a gloved hand between the prisoner’s head and the wall as Ann whipped back and forth in frantic wriggles. Both guards looked exhausted.

“What has happened?” asked Nella.

“Oh, thank goodness, Doc,” sighed Wells, “We didn’t think anyone was coming to help.”

Nella gently but firmly held Ann’s chin so she could make an examination of her. “How long has she been like this?”

“Well, she started doing this sometime overnight. The night shift said she seemed to be building up to it all evening.” Johnson ran a soothing hand over Ann’s hair, trying to smooth it back into place. Ann had slammed herself against the padded wall hard enough to bruise her left cheek