“Henry!” And this time they all heard the shrill note of panic in Grammalie Rose’s voice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PLAGUE
The shrouded lump lying on the mound of bracken leaves and grasses was scarcely recognizable as human. And the sounds that came from it were more like that of a wounded animal. Lucy and Sammy followed Henry into the open space beneath the awnings. Grammalie Rose crouched at the head of the makeshift bed. A few of the youngest kids huddled together in the corner, and Aidan was there, too. He raised his head, meeting Lucy’s eyes briefly. She was shocked at how pale and drawn his face was. He looked much older than seventeen. Henry dropped down to his knees opposite Grammalie and moved the covers aside. Lucy caught a glimpse of charred skin, a gasping mouth.
“Sue is boiling water for willow bark tea. Aidan soaked some sheets in water. He’s bad,” Grammalie Rose said. She looked at Sammy and beckoned him closer. “Get the children away,” she said in a low voice.
Sammy nodded. He bent his head and pulled the white and gold mask from beneath his cape and switched it for the horned mask. Then he clapped his hands. “Strawberry hunt in two minutes!” The kids clustered about his legs, jabbering in excited voices, and he led them out into the square.
“He’s burning up,” Henry said, laying a hand on the man’s forehead. “The willow bark tea won’t bring his temperature down fast enough.” He looked miserable. “What else do we have?”
“Elder flower, echinacea for the fever; but if the willow isn’t doing any good…” Grammalie Rose’s voice trailed off. “Valerian, black cohosh for the pain: There may be some motherwort left, but I used most of it when Lottie broke her arm. I have a tincture of rosemary for when he is calmer.” Her hand brushed against the man’s face for a moment. Then she pulled two small glass bottles from her pocket. One was filled with a gritty brown powder. The other glowed yellow-green.
“He’ll probably die,” said Henry. He bit his lip, as if ashamed of what he had said.
Grammalie Rose soaked a cloth in a pan of water and dabbed it over the man’s face. She muttered under her breath. It sounded like a string of curses. Her eyebrows met in an angry frown over her hawklike nose. She glared at Henry.
“Then we will try to make him as comfortable as we can. Yes?”
Henry lowered his head.
Lucy watched the body writhing beneath the thin covers. She could see blackened skin covering a bald skull and spreading in splotches to the face. His eyes were half-open. The eyeballs were tinged an angry red. She couldn’t distinguish his pupils at all. It was as if the sockets were filled with blood. He thrashed and threw off the sheets. Two thick gold hoops dangled from the charred earlobes, and under the skin of the muscular forearms she glimpsed swirls and bands of dark blue. Tattoos, she realized with a shudder of recognition, almost covered by the dusky hue of bleeding beneath the skin. It was Leo.
And now he was ill with the plague.
A feeling of hysteria rose in her throat, and she battled to keep herself under control.
Leo has the plague. She placed her hand over her mouth, ashamed of her weakness, and backed away.
Aidan was on his feet, pacing. The skin above his cheekbone was reddened and shiny. A new injury. Lucy moved around to join him.
“Did you find him?” she whispered.
“Yeah. I wasn’t even looking for him. I was just wandering and there he was, on the big road a couple of miles up. I think they dumped him there.” His hands clenched. “He didn’t know me. He fought and I had to force him to come with me. He got a few good punches in.” He rubbed his cheek. “Luckily he’s weak; otherwise he’d have kicked my skull in.”
Lucy put a comforting hand on Aidan’s arm. He hardly seemed aware of it.
“He’s been raving, slipping in and out of consciousness. God knows what he’s seeing, or where he thinks he is.” His shoulders slumped. “Monsters. He kept saying monsters. And he screamed like a little kid.” Aidan ran trembling fingers through his hair.
“He’ll be all right,” Lucy said, trying to inject certainty into her voice. “Like Sammy.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He swung around and stopped; his arms hung limply at his sides. “We don’t have any medicine. Grammalie Rose has a few home remedies. Herbal teas and powders for headaches and minor injuries, but not for something like this!”
“I thought the plague was over,” Lucy said. “How can it still be out there when everyone that’s left has already survived it?”
“I don’t think it will ever go away. It hides and it changes. We can’t fight it.” He groaned and kicked at the ground.
“Aidan and Lucy,” Grammalie Rose said. “Come and hold him up. He is too heavy for me.” Her raspy voice was calm. Her lips pressed together so firmly, they almost disappeared into the deep wrinkles of her face.
Lucy hesitated. Mentally she screamed at herself to move, but she couldn’t. She dug her fingernails into her palms.
“Once the bleeding is visible, the risk of contagion has gone,” Grammalie Rose said. “Two days ago he was perhaps a danger, but now he is only a man in pain.”
Lucy swallowed her fear and went to the old woman’s side.
Sue had returned holding a small steaming saucepan filled with a murky liquid. She held the metal handle with hands shrouded by the long sleeves of her sweater. She was chewing on the end of her pigtail, and her eyes were wet.
“Four heaping teaspoons in two cups of water, Sue?” Henry asked, taking the pot from her. The vapor rising from it smelled dank, like rotting wood.
“Yes,” Sue said, taking her pigtail out of her mouth. She pulled her fingers through the wet end.
“Good, my zabko,” Grammalie said. “This will ease his pain. Go now.”
Sue ran from the tent.
Grammalie held her hand up, the vial with the brown powder between her fingers. “Let me add valerian. It may help.” Her eyes gleamed like tar. She tipped the opened bottle, tapping in the last few clumps, and then nodded to Henry. Henry swooshed his finger around the liquid, testing the temperature. “We’ll do it quickly,” he told them. He spared a faint smile. “This stuff tastes like crap and he’s not going to like it. He’ll struggle.”
Lucy took a deep breath and unclenched her fingers. She and Aidan got on either side of Leo and raised his head. Lucy cushioned it on her knees, and clutched his left shoulder and wrist in her hands. Aidan held him still on the other side. Leo screamed at the touch of their hands, as if his skin were being flayed. He bucked, trying to throw them off. His hands twisted and clawed as he attempted to free himself. His fingers were horribly swollen around the knuckles, and the nails were stained a deep purplish red.
Grammalie Rose pinned his legs under the weight of her body. Leo’s head flailed from side to side. He tossed the covers off his body. His shirt was torn to shreds. Through it, Lucy saw the dusty blackness creeping across his chest. It was as if he had been beaten all over with steel rods. His eyes rolled back until it seemed like he stared at her through the top of his head. His mouth opened in a long, soundless scream. His tongue was black like a bird’s.
“Hold him,” Grammalie Rose said.
Henry poured the tea slowly down his throat. After each dose, he pinched Leo’s nostrils closed and waited until he saw his throat swallow convulsively. It seemed cruel and heartless, but Lucy remembered having to give her dog medicine. She’d done it the same way, as quickly as possible and without thinking too much about it. She found herself stroking Leo’s broad forehead and mumbling nonsense to him as though he were a baby.