The Cured (37 page)

“You really think it’s that dangerous?”

Henry shrugged. “That guy looked pretty damn rattled, didn’t you think? Just be careful and don’t tear your suit and we’ll be drinking toasts in no time.” He slid the cloth mask over his nose and mouth and pulled the plastic hood onto his head. “We should probably get into the truck pretty quick. We don’t want anyone seeing us this way, they’ll start asking questions.”

“Right,” said Phil, “I’ll drive, we got to get the shovels and pick axe first anyway. And I know a quiet spot where no one will stroll by to see us.”

Henry slid into the passenger seat of the truck. It was only a short drive to Phil’s house and the cemetery and Henry was silent during it. Phil chattered away though, already spending the tokens he’d get from the job. They stopped and he jumped out, returning with a pile of dirty tools. He shoved them roughly into Henry’s lap and Henry wondered why he’d bothered to cut the bio-hazard suits in the first place. Phil drove the truck down the weedy gravel lane to a far shady corner. He parked the truck so that they would be hidden behind it. Henry got out and dropped the tools next to the plot Phil indicated. Then he picked up a shovel and struck it into the ground.

“Whoa there, where’s the fire? You got to do this a certain way. Otherwise it’s ragged,” said Phil pulling a few boards from the tool pile. He made a square on the grassy turf and began at one end, carefully squaring the edges of the hole. “You start at the other side. Just take up the grass first. Then it’ll be easier to dig. Henry just wanted it done, but he knew he had to make it look as real as possible. It didn’t take long to peel up the grass and they managed not to fling too much dirt on each other. Henry was sweating heavily in the plastic suit by the time they were chest deep. “That’s good,” announced Phil.

“What? I thought these were supposed to be six feet.”

“You try climbing out a six foot hole and see how you like it. I say this is good enough. This is always how deep they go. Haven’t heard any clients complain yet.” Phil roared with laughter. “Go on, go get the body,” he said when he’d recovered. Henry pushed himself out of the hole and headed for the truck. He pulled up his face mask and opened the door. The silver cart shone and flickered in the mid-morning sun. It’s burden was a dark shadow. The stains had spread until Henry could no longer see the pattern that had been on the blanket. He rolled it to the side of the grave.

“They couldn’t even be bothered to bag it, huh?” said Phil shaking his head. “Okay, put the body on the ground and get that cart out of the way.”

Henry began gently lowering the body to the dirt. “C’mon Henry, I don’t want to be here all day. He ain’t gonna feel nothin’ just get him down there.” Phil rubbed a dirty glove across the plastic covering forehead. Henry tried to keep his face from betraying his loathing for the man, but then remembered his expression was mostly hidden by the mask and relaxed.

“All right, lower his feet down to me and we’ll swing him into bed and cover him up then go get a cold beer.” He reached up for the body.

“You sure? You don’t want to get out and lower him down together? He could fall on you.”

“Nah, just do it. There’s enough space down here.”

Henry shrugged and yanked the loosely bundled blanket upward as he did so, testing whether it was going to slide or not. He lay the body’s shoulders on the soil and then turned its feet toward Phil who grabbed the bottom of the blanket. Henry held his breath and lifted the head of the corpse again. He twisted his fingers into the sagging fabric and let the body underneath slide. “Phil–” he called out, once he was sure it was too late.

“It’s sliding Phil, slow down!” There was a pattering, as if a sudden cloudburst had opened over the grave. It took Henry a second to realize it was the maggots raining out of the blanket.

“Shi–” cried Phil and then there was a squelching thud, as if he’d stuck his boot to the ankle in mud. Henry was still holding the bloody blanket. Henry leaned over the open pit to look. Phil was struggling to push the body from his chest and stand up at the same time. His plastic suit was covered in dark fluid, some even soaking his face mask.

“Jeez, Phil, you okay?” asked Henry in a nervous voice, “I’m real sorry, I was just trying to do what you said.”

Phil glared up at him, finally shoving the disintegrating body to the side. “Just get me out of here,” he growled.
Here we go
, thought Henry, extending his hand partway toward Phil’s. He let a look of slow shock peel over his thin face and pulled his hand back. “What is it now?” asked Phil.

Henry’s hand shook as he pointed to Phil’s leg. “Your suit. Your suit is ripped.” Phil tried to twist himself to see, bracing himself with one arm on the grave wall.

“It’s just a little hole. Quick, pull me up and I’ll clean it really good. There’s still time.”

Henry shook his head. “You’re infected. I have to call the hospital.”

Phil started to hoist himself out of the grave. “Don’t be ridic–” he started to say. Henry took his shovel and pushed Phil back into the grave with the blade. “You must be itching for a beating, boy,” snarled Phil.

“Sorry, I can’t let you out. You need to go to the hospital.” Part of Henry hoped Phil would try to fight back, right then. Even though he knew Phil would probably win. But Phil leaned back and squinted up at Henry. He couldn’t see because of the mask, but Henry thought he might even have been smiling.

“We going to sit here all morning then, till someone comes to find us? Got news for you Henry. Nobody gives a shit where you or I are. We could sit here until the next doomsday and nobody’d come. So what say you let me out, I’ll go take a quick shower and we’ll go grab those beers together? We’ll forget about the whole thing. It’s just a tiny hole. There’s no way anything even got in there.”

Henry held the shovel out like a baseball bat. He shook his head again. “I didn’t think I was infected either, when it happened. I can’t let you go. I’m just going to call my friend Vincent. He’s just over at the church, he’ll hear me.” Henry jerked his head in the direction of the church. Phil glanced over at the church. “Vincent!” Henry yelled, knowing the priest had taken the kids on a trip to the Barrier that day, “Vincent, come here, I need help–”

“Okay, okay, shutup!” hissed Phil, “I’ll make you a deal. What do you want to keep this quiet?”

Henry wanted to laugh in disbelief. Instead he said in a low, shocked voice, “If I don’t take you to the hospital, you could infect everyone– my friends, me, the whole City. And you want me to let you wander around like I don’t know? In return for what? Money? Booze? Drugs? No thanks. I know what you are about to turn into. I can’t let that happen again. Throw me the keys.”

“Okay. I’ll leave. You don’t have to worry about the City. I’ll hole up in my old camp for a month. I’ll be fine, you’ll see when I come back healthy as an ox. Just give me until tonight to get out of town.”

“I don’t trust you. Throw me the keys,” Henry said grimly and held the blade of the shovel next to Phil’s plastic covered neck.

“They’re in my pocket. Inside the suit.”

“So?”

Phil hesitated and swiped at his sweaty forehead with the back of a bloody glove. It left a smear on the plastic. “I’m not infected Henry! If I take off the suit to get the keys then I might get infected from that. If I’m not infected you’ll be killing me.” He shifted onto one leg, trying to keep the one with the tear out of the muck and maggots. “Please, Henry. Give a fellow a break, can’t you?” said Phil when Henry didn’t respond. And Henry knew Phil was scared. Deep down scared. Scared was good. Scared was obedient.

“How can I trust you to keep your word?” asked Henry.

Phil’s eyes darted around as if searching for a solution. He stared at the truck behind Henry. “Take me there.”

“Huh?”

“Take me to my old camp. Drive me there. The truck’s three quarters full on gas, it’ll get us there and you back. You can take me there, see for yourself that I’m gone, and then come back. It’ll only take a few hours, but it’ll take me weeks to walk back. It did the first time. No one will ever know about this and if I’m infected I won’t make it back to hurt anyone. If I’m not, no harm, I’ll just say I went to find a friend or something and things’ll go on just as they was.” Phil talked fast, as if Henry was trying to interrupt him. Henry was pleased. He’d thought he would have to be the one to bring up the Lodge first as an alternative. Phil was practically offering himself up to Henry. He stood up and lifted the shovel away from Phil.

“Okay, here’s how this is going to work,” he said, “You’re going to get out of the pit and take off your suit. Then you’re going to hand me the keys. After that, we’re going to bury this poor guy properly. Then you’re going to get in the back of the truck so that you can’t infect anyone on our way out and so I don’t have to figure out how to explain you to the Barrier guards. You try anything funny and not only will I beat you with this shovel, I’ll call Vincent and whoever else is in the area to come catch you. Sorry, but you’re infected. There’s no getting out of this. Do this nice and easy and we’ll try your way. If not–”

“No problem, Henry. You’ll see, nice and easy. I just want to get out of here, I don’t want to make anyone sick.” Phil climbed slowly out of the grave. Henry could see his hands shaking as he slowly stripped off the plastic bio-hazard suit.

“Drop it into the grave. We can’t have it lying around with all that bacteria on it,” said Henry grimly. Phil dropped it over the corpse and brushed away some stray maggots that had, indeed made it into his pant leg, wincing as each one fell away. “Now the keys.”

Phil reached in his pocket and slowly placed the silver truck key into Henry’s gloved hand. “See, no problem. We’ll do it your way.” Henry nodded toward the other shovel and they worked in silence, burying the unknown man, like so many thousands before him, just another casualty of the Plague. Henry wondered for a moment whether there really were more to come, but brushed it off. He knew there had been no indications that a new infection had taken hold.
Don’t buy into your own con, Henry,
he thought. It was long past midday when they were finished and the sun felt more like late June than early May. Henry was swimming in his own sweat. He told Phil to get into the truck and locked the door behind him. He stripped off the bio-hazard suit and carefully taped the slit he had made in his own suit’s leg so that it was invisible. No good risking discovery now. He took a deep breath in the light breeze and got into the truck. He drove it down the lane to the church and picked up the backpack of supplies he’d left there this morning. He wished he could say goodbye to Vincent, explain things. But he knew it would only make things worse. He’d see him when all this was over. He banged the side of the truck before he got back in.

“How do we get to your camp?” he yelled.

“Just get us past the Barrier,” came the answer, “Then I’ll show you.”

Henry shook his head. Phil was getting sneaky again. He’d have to scare him back into obedience when they stopped. He realized that once they were outside the City, he’d have no more hold over Phil. He was going to have to outsmart him or at least convince Phil that Henry could be just as dangerous as him. Henry got back into the truck.
What’s worse is that all he has to do back there is scheme and plan. By the time we stop he could be plotting anything,
he thought. Henry was a little scared too.

Forty-three

Henry rolled to a stop in front of the Barrier’s big gate. A guard squinted at him and then walked over. Henry felt his skin bunch and prickle as the guard tapped on the driver side window. He rolled it down and forced a smile.

“Why are you taking a delivery truck out of the City?”

“Oh, we got a call from the looting team–”

“Looting team? You mean the scavengers? The scav team?”

“Yeah, sorry, the scav team.”

“You must be new. The City doesn’t loot. We don’t steal things from other people. We scavenge for things that nobody else is using.”

“Right, sorry, still getting used to everything,” said Henry, blushing, “anyway, we got a call that they’ve got something too big and need an extra truck.”

“Why didn’t they just call one of theirs?”

Henry shrugged. “Guess with what happened at the trial they left shorthanded because of the quarantine, they gotta make do like everyone else.”

The guard nodded. “Yeah, we’re all short people. You know what they found? Anything good?”

“They didn’t say. Or at least, my boss didn’t tell
me
. Just the delivery guy.”

“All right, be careful. Reports are that
real
looters have been spotted in the area and a vehicle with gas is a prime target. Did your boss issue you a weapon?”

Henry shook his head and struggled to suppress a smile.
This is too easy,
he thought,
something has to go wrong.
“No, we’re just the postmen,” he said.

“You better come inside then.”

Henry parked the truck next to the gate and hoped Phil would keep his mouth shut. He walked into the low brick building. The guard led him to a large caged in area that was filled with neatly polished guns, riot gear, and survival gear.

“This guy’s got to go meet the scav team,” said the guard to the old man sitting inside the cage, “Delivery’s sending him out for something, but they didn’t give him a gun. Thought with the recent news he ought to take one.”