“We think,” Kelson added, and scratched his arm through the sleeve, then looked around to see if anyone had caught him doing this. “I’m fine,” he said to Dicken. “Dry skin.”
“What does ‘koobered’ mean?” Augustine asked Toby.
“Not important,” Toby said.
“Okay. But we’re going to spend a lot of time together, if that’s all right with you. I’d like to learn these words, if you’re willing to teach me.”
Toby shrugged.
“Can you put some teams together and pick up some basic nursing skills from the doctors, from Ms. Middleton and the teachers?”
“I guess,” Toby said.
“Some of them are already doing that in the gym and in the infirmary,” Middleton said. “Helping keep kids comfortable, deliver water.”
Augustine smiled. He had pulled himself together, straightened his rumpled shirt and pants, washed his face in Trask’s executive bathroom sink. “Thanks, Yolanda. I’m speaking with Toby now, and I want him to tell me what’s what. Toby?”
“I’m not the best at doing that kind of stuff. Not even the best who’s still up and standing around.”
“Who is?”
“Four or five of us, maybe. Six, if you count Natasha.”
“Are you fever-scenting, Toby?” Middleton asked. “Do I have to strap on my sachet again?”
“I’m just seeing if I can, Ms. Middleton,” Toby said.
Augustine recognized the chocolate-like scent. Toby was nervous. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Toby, but we all need to think clearly.”
“Sorry.”
“I’d like for you to represent me and Mr. Dicken and all the school staff, okay? And ask the right kids—the right individuals—to put together teams for more training. Ms. Middleton will help us train, and Dr. Kelson. Toby, can these teams become clouded?”
Toby smiled, one pupil growing larger, the other shrinking. The gold flecks in both irises seemed to move.
“Probably,” Toby said. “But I think you mean we should cloud. Join up.”
“Of course. Sorry. Can you help us learn who’s going to get better and who isn’t?”
“Yes,” Toby said, very serious now, and both irises large.
Augustine turned to Dicken. “I think that’s where we should begin. We’re not going to get any help from outside, no deliveries, nothing. We’re cut off. As far as the children are concerned, we need to focus our efforts and our supplies on those for whom we can do the most good with what we have. The children are better equipped to determine that than we are. Is this clear, Toby?”
Toby nodded slowly.
“I don’t like giving children such decisions,” Middleton said, eyes thinning. “They are very loyal to each other.”
“If we do nothing, more will die. This thing is going through the new children like a crown fire. It’s spreading by breath and touch—aerosol.”
“What’s that mean for us?” Dr. Kelson asked, looking between Dicken and Augustine.
“I don’t think we’ll catch it from the kids unless we engage in really stupid behavior—pick our noses, that sort of thing,” Dicken said, glancing at Augustine. Damn him, he’s pulling us together. “The aerosol forms of the viruses are probably not infectious for us.”
“It has a smell,” Toby volunteered. “When it’s in the air it smells like soot spread over snow. When someone is going to get sick, and maybe die, they smell like lemons and ham. When they’re going to get sick but not die, they smell like mustard and onions. Some of us just smell like water and dust. We won’t get sick. That’s a good, safe smell.”
“What do you smell like, Toby?”
Toby shrugged. “I’m not sick.”
Augustine gripped Toby’s shoulder. “You’re our guy,” he said.
Toby returned his stare without expression, but his cheeks flared.
“Let’s start,” Augustine said.
“It’s come to them saving themselves,” DeWitt said, finding the logic bitter. “God help us all.”
46
PENNSYLVANIA
The woods became dark and still. The rooms inside the cabin were quiet, stuffy from months of being closed up. Beneath the table lamp in the living room, Stella Nova shuddered at the end of each exhale of breath, but her lungs were not congested, and the air did not go in and out of her with the harsh whicker Kaye had heard earlier.
She changed the bag of Ringer’s. Stella still did not awaken. Kaye stooped beside her daughter, listening and watching, then straightened. She looked around the cabin, seeing for the first time the homey and decorative touches, the carefully chosen personal items of the Mackenzie family. On an end table, a silver frame with characters from Winnie-the-Pooh in bas-relief held a picture of George and Iris and their son, Kelly, perhaps three years younger than Stella at the time the picture was taken.
To some, all the new children looked alike. People chose the simplest markers to differentiate between one another. Some people, Kaye had learned, were little more than social drones, going through the motions of being human beings, like little automatons, and teaching these people to see Stella and her kind with any sense of discrimination or understanding was almost impossible.
She hated that amorphous mob, lined up in her imagination like an endless army of unthinking robots, all intent on misunderstanding, hurting, killing.
Kaye checked Stella once again, found her signs steady if not improving, then walked from room to room to find her husband. Mitch sat on the porch in an Adirondack chair, facing the lake, eyes fixed on a point between two big pines. The fading light of dusk made him look sallow and drained.
“How are you?” Kaye asked.
“I’m fine,” Mitch said. “How’s Stella?”
“Resting. The fever is steady, but not dangerous.”
“Good,” Mitch said. His hands gripped the ends of the square wooden armrests. Kaye surveyed those hands with a sudden and softening sense of nostalgia. Big, square knuckles, long fingers. Once, simply looking at Mitch’s hands would have made her horny.
“I think you’re right,” Kaye said.
“About what?”
“Stella’s going to be okay. Unless there’s another crisis.”
Mitch nodded. Kaye looked at his face, expecting relief. He just kept nodding.
“We can take turns sleeping,” Kaye suggested.
“I won’t sleep,” Mitch said. “If I sleep, someone will die. I have to stay awake and watch everything. Otherwise, you’ll blame me.”
This astonished Kaye, to the extent she even had enough energy to feel astonished. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You were angry with me for being in Washington when Stella ran away.”
“I was not.”
“You were furious.”
“I was upset.”
“I can’t betray you. I can’t betray Stella. I’m going to lose both of you.”
“Please talk sense. That is loony, Mitch.”
“Tell me that’s not exactly how you felt, because I was away when it began.”
Why did the burden rest upon her? How often had Mitch been away, and Stella had decided it was time to pull something, to challenge, stretch, reach out and test? “I was stressed out,” Kaye said.
“I’ve never blamed you. I’ve tried to do everything you wanted me to do, and be everything I’ve needed to be.”
“I know,” Kaye said.
“Then cut me some slack.” At another time, those words might have hit Kaye like a slap, but his voice was so drained and desperate, they felt more like the brush of a wind-blown curtain. “Your instincts are no stronger than mine. Just because you are a woman and a mother does not give you the right to…” He waved a hand helplessly. “Go off on me.”