“Billy,” said Dez, “you unlock the door and then get behind us. We’re going to have to go in guns out just in case they’re turned. ”
Trout looked at her. “Would it be easier if they have?”
JT and Dez said it at the same time. “Yes. ”
But none of them had. They were all there, still alive, but terribly sick. They sat slumped in chairs with their heads on the little desks; or they lay on the floor covered with coats and anything else that would keep them warm.
Trout looked around the room and then at JT and Dez. “We’re all going to hell for this. ”
“Already there,” said JT. He knelt by a man who was a friend of his, Greg Schauer, who owned a little bookstore in town. He touched his shoulder and rocked him gently. “Hey, man … hey, Greg…”
Schauer opened his eyes like a sleeper after a long night, but his gaze remained vague and disconnected. “JT…? What’s going on, man?”
“C’mon, Greg,” said JT as he tucked his hands under Schauer’s armpits and pulled him to his feet. “Time to go, brother. ”
Schauer peered at him with dreamy eyes. “Go? Go where?”
“Outside … they’re waiting for us. ”
“Who?”
“The National Guard. ”
Schauer managed a weak smile. “’Bout time the cavalry arrived. ”
JT sniffed back tears. “Yeah. The good guys are here to take care of us. ”
He shot a look of black hatred at Dez. It wasn’t meant for her, and she knew it; he was sharing what could not be expressed, and she met him with equal intensity.
The good guys.
The words were like a curse, or the punch line of a bad joke told in front of good people.
One by one they helped the sick people to their feet. Dez produced her last pairs of polyethylene gloves from the compartment on her utility belt. She gave one pair to Trout and dragged the others over her own lacerated hands.
There was no trouble, no resistance. The people were too sick and frightened, and those who had the energy to be involved in what was happening were guided along by the thought that they were walking toward rescue and medical treatment and safety. Even though none of them had been told that beyond JT’s cynical comment.
The good guys are here to take care of us.
When the infected were all out in the hall, Dez reached for the doorknob to the second quarantine room. That was where the three children were kept. Trout stepped up and pushed her hand away.
“No,” he said. “I’ll do this…”
It meant so much to Dez that Trout understood this about her, and she smiled through her tears. “No,” she said, and she opened the door.
The children were small. There were two boys of about kindergarten age and a girl who looked to be in second grade. All past-tense designations now. These little ones would never go back to school. They would never learn, never play, never grow up. They would always be remembered as children, if there was anyone among the survivors who knew them.
Despite the risk of infection, Trout bent and picked up one of the little boys. The child was on the edge of a fevered coma
, but his eyes were still open. He looked despairingly at Dez, who nodded.
He understands, she thought.
JT picked up the other boy and cradled him in his big arms. The child had a bite on his arm that was already festering.
“We have to do this quick,” he said.
Dez went to the little girl. The child was as hot as a furnace, but her eyelids fluttered open as Dez gently picked her up.