The Cured (24 page)

“How come you aren’t at the trial Stephanie?”

“Someone has to keep the doors open. If you are really interested we can listen to the broadcast. The way I see it though, those scientists are either already living the worst kind of hell just knowing what they did, or they don’t care. And if they don’t care, a trial won’t even come close to making them care. It’s just a lot of heartache for everyone else.”

“Don’t you want to know why they did it?”

Stephanie shook her head and Henry could see the smooth, melted scar of a missing ear flashing under her long hair. “It can’t change anything. People are still dead, no matter why. It won’t bring anyone back and it won’t make their dying worthwhile.” She dropped the small stack of papers. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” She came around the counter and led Henry through a squealing metal door. Behind the little office was a large warehouse. It was stacked to the brim. Everywhere Henry looked was something different. It made him dizzy and a little nervous.

“So, we’re All Work. Obviously. And that means we have to have tools for everything. We’re kind of the back up for the regular departments. The good news is you could be doing something different every day. The bad news is that everyone knows you’re temporary and gives you the worst tasks that no one else wants to do.” Stephanie grinned. “The good news to
that
is that you only have to do it that day and not every day.”

“Where do I even start?” asked Henry, “I thought I was sent here because I didn’t have any skills that they found useful.”

She laughed. “That’s just because we’re Cured. They never think we can do anything right. Like we haven’t quite got out of our drooling idiot stage.” She gently elbowed him and he smiled but it didn’t feel funny. “Don’t take it personally Henry, they don’t even know you. You’re just a number, it’s not a judgement. Besides, there are lots of good things about this job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not for everyone, and if you decide to apprentice out, there’s no shame in it. But if you stay, you’ll learn a lot more. You’ll see parts of the City no one else ever bothers with, you’ll make friends with people in all sorts of positions. People that can get you things. And between you and me, if the poop meets the pin wheel again, you’ll be ten times the survivor that you were when you started.”

“So, what do I do first?”

“Well, there’s not much to do today, since everyone is at the trial. Why don’t we work on organizing some of the warehouse, that way you’ll kind of get a feel for the layout. It gets really sloppy in here really fast with everyone checking tools in and out. Oh yeah, meant to tell you that too. Obviously, there’s a
lot
of valuable stuff in here. Everyone checks their tools out for the day and back in when they are done. We have a big chalkboard.” Stephanie walked toward the back wall and Henry followed her. The chalkboard was huge. It was like the old betting board at Henry’s favorite sports bar. There was even a ladder to reach the top. “It looks confusing now, but you’ll get used to it. This is where we keep track of assignments and tools. I already added you, see?”

Henry’s name sprawled in metallic stickers about a foot from the bottom. “So your first column would be your assignment for the day, and then you’d just sign or x in the tool column for the stuff you need. Everything is in packets, so you don’t have to worry about specific tools. You just grab a bundle and it should have everything you need for the day. That’s kind of why things get messy in here, but it’s so much faster than digging through everything or making three trips back to the warehouse for forgotten tools. Bernice is kind of in charge of all that too. Most of the time she’ll have everyone’s bundles lined up by the warehouse door by the time they come in, so you just pick it up and go.”

“How many people work here?” asked Henry, awed at the number of names.

“Right now, about seventy. We had a big group apprentice out to the water works last month. They were desperate for new workers. But it’ll fill up again.”

The idea of seventy people in the same small warehouse at once after so many years of solitude made Henry’s stomach twist. But it was quiet now. Either everyone was at the trial or already out at work. He and Stephanie sorted bundles of tools for the rest of the day. He was surprised at how complete each one was, holding parts and pieces that could only be occasionally called for. But, after years of trial and error, he supposed they must know what was going to be most valuable. They only got a few sections done before people started flooding in. Some exchanging bundles for ration coins, others coming in to talk about the trial. The extra noise made Henry flinch and he stood awkwardly in an empty part of the warehouse. Stephanie found him still sorting bundles a little later. “Hey,” she said, “why don’t you go on home. We’re done for the day and it looks like you’re still bulking up. We don’t want to wear you out.”

Henry blushed, humiliated and unable to deny his exhaustion. “Don’t be ashamed,” she continued, “We’re all Cured here. We all came in most of the way starved and weak as kittens. You have to take it easy for a little while or you’ll collapse. I’ve seen it happen. No one expects anything superhuman here. Come back in the morning and we’ll do some more sorting, I’ll introduce you to the guys before your meeting.”

Henry just nodded, too embarrassed to thank her. He ducked out of the tiny office and climbed onto his bike, riding through the long shadows the ramshackle buildings made in the empty afternoon. He sat on the cracked wood step of his house as the chill of the afternoon tightened into proper cold. Rickey and Vincent found him there as the sun was setting.

“Well? Did you get your posse?” asked Rickey. Vincent looked concerned, the last of the afternoon light filling up the drawn lines in his face.

“No, he was at that trial thing. I’m supposed to go back tomorrow.”

“It’s not going to happen, man. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. Maybe the whole camp is wiped out. In fact, I’m not even entirely sure I remember how to get back there.”

“I asked Melissa. She used to deliver mail in the area, she found me a map.”

Henry stood up and opened the door, motioning them inside.

“What are you hoping will happen, Henry? Find the girl and take revenge? And then what? Are you even sure if you find Marnie that she’ll want to come back with you? She didn’t exactly see you at your best.”

“I know you aren’t interested in helping me Rickey, I’m not asking you to. But I have to know, one way or another, that Phil’s not doing the same things to other people and that Marnie is free of him. Even if she doesn’t want to come back with me.” He flipped on a light and the empty room glowed. The furniture delivery sat in a sad, spare pile in the center. Rickey walked over and pulled a kitchen chair from the pile, lighting a cigarette without asking.

“What exactly are you going to do if you find him?” asked Vincent.

“You want me to spell it out for you?” Henry asked, turning to look at him.

“Actually, yes. Because no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough.”

“Wow. I didn’t think a priest was supposed to say those things,” said Rickey between puffs.

“You want a crack at him Father?” asked Henry, surprised. Vincent shook his head.

“No. No torture would ever be enough. And it would only make me into something like him. It won’t make you happy, Henry. Not for long.”

“For long enough. I don’t care if it
destroys
me. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

“He
will.
Maybe he already is.”

Henry could feel his heart beginning to pound, his chest become hot. “I don’t mean in the afterlife, Vincent. I mean here and now. With these hands. God had His chance. For eight years. Maybe longer. And He did nothing. It’s my turn now.”

“Calm down,” said Rickey, rising from his chair. Henry could feel all the short hair on his head prickle as it stood up, as if he were a dog with hackles.

“What if he’s changed? What if he’s not the monster you remember? What if he even had good reasons for doing some of the things he did?” Vincent asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Henry, brushing past him and joining Rickey near the pile of furniture. “He could be a saint now, but it doesn’t change what he did. And there’s no reason good enough. There are plenty of people here that survived without doing the things he did.”

“Are there?” Rickey asked, squinting up at Henry, “I’m not so sure that’s true. At least, not on a general level. I just think people don’t talk about it here.”

“What about the girl?” asked Vincent, so quietly that Henry almost missed it.

“Marnie is tough. She knows what has to be done in order to survive now.”

“This isn’t about survival Henry. You’re out. You’re free. You say you don’t care if this destroys you, that you will have your vengeance, come what may. But what about the girl? What if it destroys her too?”

Henry was quiet. Rickey stood up and pushed the chair back into the pile. “Relax, both of you. That military guy isn’t going to help him anyway Vincent. And there’s no way he’ll be able to take a whole camp on by himself, even if there is a camp left to take. At least, not till he’s much stronger and has, you know, some kind of weapon. By then it’ll be fall and too late for him to go. There’s no reason to argue until then. It makes my head hurt.”

No one said anything for a moment. Rickey put out the last of his cigarette on his boot. “Come on. I’m starving. Henry can’t even be bothered to unpack let alone cook. Let’s go to that diner near the old tracks. We can pick up Melissa on the way.”

But Henry was still fuming and refused. Rickey shrugged and walked out the door with his slow saunter. Vincent watched Henry for a moment longer and then offered his hand. Henry shook it reluctantly.

“I’m not your enemy Henry. I just don’t want to see a good man ruined by anger. Whatever you are planning– it’s not going to make anything better for you or for Marnie or for anyone else.”

“I’m sorry, Father. But I’m not so sure that I
am
a good man.”

“If you weren’t a good man you wouldn’t be looking for the girl. You’re all she has left. Let it be a good man that finds her and not a monster.”

Vincent left the house and the last of the afternoon sun went with him. Henry was too angry to follow them. He spent his frustration in labor, dragging the few pieces of furniture around the house until he burnt his temper away.

Twenty-eight

The pretty secretary watched a man in a perfect black suit walk out of the office. She glanced over at Henry and gave him a brief and pitying smile. “You can go in now, Mr. Broom,” she said.

He tried to ignore her look, but he felt under-dressed and overwhelmed. If the Governor wouldn’t agree . . . He couldn’t think about that now. He smoothed the clothes he had been given, they were too large by two sizes, but they were clean and had no holes. He stood up with a brief tight smile to the secretary and walked into the Governor’s office.

The man behind the desk was even more shrunken and tired than he had appeared on television. Henry guessed that all the pomp and fashion was reserved for the secretary. Here was where the real business happened. And he could see it took its toll here too. “Mr. Broom is it?” said the governor, standing to shake his hand.

“Yes, Henry Broom.”

“Please, have a seat. You’re a new arrival. Dorothy didn’t say what this appointment was about. Why don’t you go ahead?”

Henry sat and then adjusted uncomfortably. “I’m not entirely sure where to start. I saw your broadcast a few nights ago. I don’t know what kind of files or information you have on me or my friends, I don’t know what they said in their interviews or what your soldiers reported back to you. We were kept, these past eight years– we were slaves. Most of us were used as guard dogs for the camp–”

The Governor leaned forward, his ancient desk chair squealing. “Guard dogs? What do you mean? You mean you were soldiers?”

Henry shook his head. “No, not soldiers. We were Infected. Mad. We were chained to posts in the front and back of the camp,” he slid the fabric of his shirt away from his neck and the smooth red scar glimmered under the florescent bulb. “We were starved, without shelter or medical care. One of the people in the camp, my friend, found out about the Cure. She went to get it. The men in the camp threw her in the pen with us when she came back. It took her days to die. They knew about the Cure, but they wouldn’t help us. They used us to scare locals into giving them what they wanted. They’d throw anyone who stood up to them into the pens with us. That’s what we ate for eight years.” Henry’s eyes started to leak and he turned deep red. “And the women had it worse. All their teeth were removed so they couldn’t bite. The were tied up and
used
. And then the food started to run out. So the men that ran the camp started getting rid of the dead weight. They started by throwing those women into the pens with the rest of the Infected. Only they couldn’t fight. They were planning on feeding the older people and the kids to us, so they didn’t have so many mouths to feed and so they could keep us. But we escaped before they could. One of the kids let us all out.” Henry stopped, the knot in his throat now too tight to speak around.

The Governor coughed. “I’m sorry that you went through that. But you are free now, son. You’re safe here, all of you.”