Henderson left, and George woke Miriam to give her some breakfast. She ate quietly, not speaking much. George knew she must be preoccupied with thoughts of her own mortality. He tried to engage her in conversation but with little luck.
Vale kept them consigned to their room, and as the hours passed, George could see Miriam was growing more and more withdrawn. By noon she complained of a slight fever and a headache that grew worse as the day wore on.
George sat at the bedside, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cool, damp washcloth. He still couldn’t get the vision of Amanda’s death out of his head. And now as he watched Miriam’s condition worsen by the hour, he found his own resolve weakening.
He stood over her bed as she opened her eyes, shadowed by dark circles, and offered him a weak smile.
“I can’t do this,” he said at last, his voice shaky. “I can’t just stand around and watch you suffer.”
“George…” Her voice was soft and her breathing grew labored. “This place—this man—is evil. You need to be strong. You can’t… give him what he wants.”
“I’m not going to let you die.”
“I’m… not afraid. You need to let me go. You’ll never be free of him if you don’t.”
George shook his head. He’d just gotten her back after four years, and he wasn’t about to let her go again. He went to the door, where Mulch was standing guard.
“I need to see Vale—now.”
Mulch led him to the dining hall, where everyone was gathered eating. The Brownes, the Huxleys, the Dunhams, along with Carson and Henderson. George noticed that this evening there was little conversation and the general mood seemed more subdued. And no wonder, George thought. Vale had just killed off one of their own with about as much detachment as if he had traded in a used car for a newer model. He sat in his normal place at the head of the table and raised an eyebrow as George entered.
“Hello, George,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve been expecting you. I assume you’ve had a change of heart?”
“Yes.” George tried to mask his contempt. “You win. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just give her the perilium.”
“A wise choice,” Vale said. “I’m looking forward to integrating you into our group. And now that Amanda has left us, I think Miriam would fit this role perfectly.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Miriam’s voice came from the doorway.
George turned. “What are you doing?”
Miriam’s face was deathly pale and glistening with sweat. “I’m coming here to s-stop you from making… a mistake.”
“It’s okay,” George said. “The money doesn’t matter to me.”
“It’s not about the money,” Miriam said, stepping gingerly into the room. “It’s about your soul. I can’t let you… get involved in what they’re doing here. I won’t do this.”
“Come now, Mrs. Wilcox, get off your high horse.” Vale gestured to the others at the table. “In Beckon, we have found an end to disease and suffering. And even time has no power to ravage your body. I’ve made you young and beautiful again.”
“On the lives of those people down there?” Miriam looked at the others. “Do they have to… die so you can live?”
“All species live at the expense of others,” Vale said. “That’s the way it is in nature.”
“Perhaps that’s the way of animals. Not us.”
“Criminals, indigents, and the dregs of modern society. Those are the types of people down there. We have made the world a better place by eliminating them.”
“Those are human beings. Created in God’s image. You have no right—”
“God’s image?” Vale laughed. “In a great house, there are vessels designed for noble purposes and others for ignoble, remember? God Himself creates the distinction. God Himself destined them for this purpose. To be given for us. We’re simply ridding His house of the ignoble vessels. In our own way, we’re doing His divine will.”
“You are not God… and this is not His will.” She looked at the others gathered around the table and sucked in a long breath. “He’s played on your fears… and used them against you. You were all so d-desperate to save yourselves or your loved ones that you were willing to do anything. Anything. And now look at you. You’re like slaves. You do whatever he tells you to, no matter how terrible. You think… you’re immortal… but you’ve lost your souls long ago.”
“I don’t care.” George grabbed her shoulders. “I can’t lose you again.”
“Lose me?” Miriam touched his cheek and smiled. “After all these years you still don’t… understand? Death isn’t the end, George—not for me. I’m… just going home.”
“Are you so sure of that?” Vale pointed to the windows. “Death and disease rule out there. But I saved you from it. Here in this town, I’ve given you immortality.”
“You’ve made them prisoners,” Miriam countered. “They live in fear of you. Afraid that one day you’ll take it all away from them.”
Vale’s eyebrows went up. “And you would have them believe you’re not afraid of dying?”
Miriam shook her head. “I may be… afraid of dying… but I don’t fear death.”
Vale grunted. “And why is that?”
Miriam grimaced and doubled over, leaning on George for support. And then with all her strength, she straightened again, leveling her gaze at Vale and the others. But George saw in her eyes neither hate nor anger nor even defiance, but rather…
Compassion.
“Because… I know the Author of life.”
Vale scowled and looked away from her. “It’s not too late, George.” His voice was even and confident. He got up from the table and slipped a glass vial from his pocket. “I can stop her suffering. I have it in my power.”
“Yes!” George reached out his hand. “Give it to me.”
But Miriam clutched his arms, refusing to let go. “No! I won’t live like that.”
“George?” Vale held out the vial and moved closer. “Do we have an agreement?”
“Yes, yes. Give it to me.”
Miriam lunged forward, snatching the perilium from Vale’s grasp. She fell in a heap, smashing the vial onto the floor. Glass shattered and the yellow liquid splashed across the tiles. The others gasped and scrambled to their feet.
“No!” George slumped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Miriam, lifting her to his chest. “What are you doing?”
Miriam’s breaths came in choppy bursts. “Setting… you… free….”
Tears poured from George’s eyes as she began to shake, her arms and legs quivering with increasing violence. He wept with bitter moans, desperately trying to hold her body still. But she arched back in his arms. Her head twisted and she groaned through her clenched teeth.
“No, no… dear God.” George sobbed like a child. “Please don’t leave me.”
Miriam’s body shook in violent surges, and he tried to hold her tightly but couldn’t prevent the ravaging onslaught of her spasms. He couldn’t ease her suffering or fend off death. He couldn’t…
He couldn’t save her.
George felt the whole world shift as his brain shut down to the trauma. This wasn’t happening. Miriam wasn’t dying. They never came to Wyoming. He never heard of perilium.
Seconds crawled past like hours. Eventually her tremors weakened, her body relaxed, and her eyes rolled back down. They seemed to fix on him for a brief moment as a sigh escaped her lips.
“No… sting…”
Then her eyes lost focus and she fell limp in his arms.