Finally the last of the tea disappeared. They held him for five interminable minutes while Leo fought to free himself. Tears dripped from Lucy’s eyes and fell onto his hands.
Eventually, he stopped straining against them and his breathing eased. He seemed to be asleep or unconscious. Henry sat back on his heels. The saucepan fell from his hand. The clanging thud was a signal to relax their hold on him. Aidan let go of his grip and flexed his cramped fingers. He stood abruptly and with his back to the group. Grammalie Rose took Leo’s hand and enfolded it between her palms. The skin on either side of her mouth was deeply grooved and looked as delicate as cobwebs around her eyes. She took out the small vial of oil, uncapped it, and began smoothing it into Leo’s twisted, lumpy knuckles. The smell was pungent, herbal. It reminded Lucy vividly of the Sunday roast beef dinners her mother had made after church. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the starched white tablecloth, Rob’s eager fingers dipping into the gravy boat, the mountain of buttery mashed potatoes, and the heat from the oven steaming up the windows.
Lucy moved back against the tarp wall and sat with her knees folded and her arms wrapped around her calves. She wanted to cover her head with a soft blanket and rock back and forth. It was something she’d done as a child whenever she was upset and needed to escape an unpleasant situation. She couldn’t imagine the pain Leo was experiencing, but she felt she’d shared it somehow. Every spasm he had endured had rocketed through her body, jarred her bones, and made her grit her teeth so hard, the back of her neck was sore. And she was tired, as if she’d just outrun a tsunami again. Her hands shook and her legs felt like rubber. Lucy pulled her sweatshirt down over her knees.
Aidan came and sat next to her. His shoulder pressed against her arm. He was solid and warm. Without looking at him, she shifted slightly, and his hand reached out and found hers. Their fingers interlocked. Aidan watched Leo for a while. Aidan’s body was tense, his grip on her fingers was almost painful, but finally his shoulders lowered and he relaxed.
“I was so scared of hurting him,” Lucy said. “He screamed.” She didn’t think she’d ever heard a man scream like that.
“I doubt he knows what’s going on. It’s like he’s trapped in a nightmare,” Aidan said.
“He’ll need another dose in about four hours,” said Henry, wiping sweat from his forehead. His hair was soaking wet. His face was pale, but there was a stubborn slant to his mouth that Lucy had never seen. His crooked smile had vanished.
Lucy asked, “And all you gave him was the willow bark and the valerian?” She stumbled a little over the unfamiliar name.
“The local Superior Drugs is unfortunately closed for business. Looters took most of the medicine after the first wave. And then flooding took care of the rest. But it’s the same stuff that’s in aspirin.” He nodded toward Grammalie Rose, who was hunched over Leo’s still body. She crooned an odd song with guttural words in a different language. “She knows a lot about herbals. There’s pretty much a natural alternative to most modern pharmaceuticals. Unfortunately for us, not many grow in New York State these days. There’s too much rain.”
“Will the tea really bring his fever down?”
“It should, but this disease is tenacious. If his temperature climbs above 103 degrees, it won’t have an effect. We can keep him as cool as possible without sending his body into shock, but other than that…” He shrugged helplessly.
“Is there something stronger we can try?”
Henry exchanged a glance with Grammalie Rose.
“We have other remedies,” she said heavily. “Nightshade. Foxglove.”
“Great,” Lucy said, and then noticed that everyone was looking grave.
“They’re not cures,” Aidan said, putting his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and clasped it.
“Not cures,” she echoed.
“There are just ways to ease the inevitable,” Grammalie Rose said. “They are remedies for the pain. Permanent.”
“But Sammy, Beth, Ralph?” Lucy said. “They made it. And Leo, he survived until now.”
“Sammy, Beth, and Ralph survived, but not because of any magic pill. Call it God’s will, random selection. Luck. But this has gone too far,” Grammalie Rose said, patting Leo’s hand a final time and getting to her feet. Her hand went to her back as if it pained her. Today her legs were clothed in thick black tights and wrapped tightly at the ankles with bandages, and she wore her heavy woolen shawl tied close around her neck, as if she was cold.
Lucy persisted. “Shouldn’t his immune system have kept him safe?”
“Maybe the disease has mutated,” Aidan said. The words seemed to hang there.
Del appeared out of nowhere, exploding into the crowded space. Her knees were badly scratched, her boots crusted with mud, and her hair was loose and wild around her face. She dropped to her knees and grabbed Leo’s hand.
“Zabko,” Grammalie Rose said, putting her arm around Del’s shoulders and trying to lead her away. “Zabko, he is sleeping.”
Del shrugged her arm off and leaned forward.
“Leo,” she said, her mouth inches from his face. “Leo.”
His eyes flickered open. A spasm snaked across his face. “Del,” he gasped. His voice was raw and thickened, as if the words were being forced through a closed throat. “They let you go.” He reached up and smoothed her hair.
“No. I escaped.”
His forehead wrinkled. “How?”
Her fingers tightened on his. The knuckles showed white. He groaned.
“I got away from them,” she said again. “Shhhh.”
He shook his head. “Let me talk.” He tried to rise from the ground but couldn’t. “You’re okay? They said they wouldn’t hurt any of you.”
“Oh, Leo.” Del’s eyes filled with tears. One splashed onto her hand. She rubbed her face against the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“The kids? Lottie and Patrick. Were they with you?” she asked.
He shook his head. His tongue ran over his blackened lips. “They were kept in the tower. I was put in the hospital with the other adults.”
“Hank?” Grammalie asked. “Walter and Olive from the sweep before?”
“I don’t know. They were with me, but then—I didn’t see them again.”
“Why did they put you in the hospital?” Aidan asked.
Leo ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips. “Tests. Needles. Dr. Lessing said the secret was in the blood. But which blood… the dogs know.”
He seemed to be raving again. The muscles along his jaw bulged and jumped. Dr. Lessing, Lucy thought to herself. The name was familiar for some reason. Not her family doctor. That had been dear old Dr. Ferguson, who handed out lollipops, and he was dead. Maybe an X-ray doctor at the hospital, though she didn’t think that was it, either. But Leo was clearly out of his head. Maybe he was mixing up the past with the present.
“Let him sleep,” Aidan said.
Del looked up at him briefly and then back down to Leo. “Did you get sick? Were they treating you?”
Leo’s eyes rolled wildly. “Not treating. Infecting.”
“What?” said Aidan. He dropped to his knees beside the man. “What did you say?”
Del shushed him. She watched Leo’s face. His eyes darted from her to Aidan to Grammalie Rose, who stood behind them, clasping and unclasping her hands. Lucy wanted to leave, but her feet were rooted to the ground.
Leo took a deep breath. It whistled in his chest, as if he were sucking air through a blocked straw. Sweat broke out in huge droplets across his forehead, yet his teeth chattered. Grammalie covered him with the sheets, smoothing them under his chin as if he were a small child. Del stripped off her sweatshirt and carefully pushed it under his head for a pillow.