Instead of sitting back down, Sanjay headed toward it, hoping something edible had been left behind. Just as he reached the other side of the road, he heard the distant sound of a motor. He stopped, his head whipping around.
The sound had definitely come from the right direction, and it was getting louder.
He knew it was a mistake to think it was Kusum, but he couldn’t help it. It had to be. It just had to be.
He placed his hand against his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. The road went straight for as far as he could see. In the distance, something moved. Though it was no more than a small blob at the moment, there was no question it was a vehicle.
He took a few steps toward it, as if doing so would make it arrive sooner.
“It’s got to be her,” he whispered. “It’s got to be her.”
Another step, the blob growing and beginning to take shape.
“It’s got to be her.”
A square now. A white square. Only—
He stopped moving.
The square continued to grow.
He dropped his hand to his side. It felt as if his heart had fallen off a cliff.
Not a car. A large truck.
He could now see the canvas-covered back, and make out enough to know several people were in the cab.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to not lose control.
She’s not coming, the voice from earlier said, stronger this time.
“She is,” he fought back, not as convincing as before.
He started to turn away.
“Sanjay!” The voice was just barely audible over the sound of the truck’s engine.
He paused, and looked back. Someone was waving from the open truck window.
Sanjay!” Louder now. A girl’s voice. Sounding very much like—“Sanjay!”
There was a squeal as the driver of the truck stomped on the brakes, and Kusum leaned out the passenger window.
For a moment, Sanjay thought his mind was just showing him what he wanted to see.
The door flew open even before the truck came to a full stop. The girl jumped down and ran toward him.
“Kusum?” he whispered.
“Sanjay! You’re here!”
Her arms flew open as she neared, and she wrapped them around him, squeezing him tightly. Though his shoulder screamed out in pain, he made no attempt to stop her. It was Kusum. And she was hugging him.
“You waited for us,” she said, finally pulling back from him.
Of course, I waited. What else would I have done?
Her smile began to wane as she touched his face where the skin had been ripped away in the accident. “What happened?”
“I’m okay.”
She took a good look at him, taking in his scratches and noticing his immobile arm. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” He paused. “I could use some water, though.”
“Of course! Of course!”
She put an arm around him as if he needed propping up. When he took a step, he realized he did.
“Someone bring some water!” she yelled toward the truck.
“I thought you were…going to be in a car,” he said.
“That didn’t quite work out. Besides, it wouldn’t have been big enough.”
Big enough?
Before he could ask what she meant, Jabala ran up with a bottle of water.
“Here,” the girl said, holding it out to him.
“Take the top off first!” Kusum scolded her.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Jabala removed the top, and handed the bottle back to Sanjay.
As the water passed over his lips, he wasn’t sure if he had ever tasted anything so good.
“Slowly,” Kusum said.
He continued to drink, slower than at first, then poured what was left over his head. The cloud that had infiltrated his mind began to lift, and while he was a long way from being whole, he could feel some of his strength returning.
“Thank you,” he said to Jabala.
“It is no problem,” she replied, taking the empty bottle from him. “Would you like more?”
“Yes, please.” He managed a smile. “And maybe something to eat?”
“I will be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Kusum said, “Tell me what happened to you.”
He told her about the accident.
“It’s lucky you are even alive,” she said.
“But I am.”
Kusum eyed the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Is that it?”
He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. It took him a moment before he realized she was talking about the vaccine.
“Yes. I got it.”
She looked relieved, though not quite as relieved as he expected. “I hope you have enough.”
“Enough?”
“Come.”
She guided him over to the truck. As they passed the cab, he heard a child cry out.
“Wait,” Kusum said. She stepped up to the open door and leaned inside. When she pulled back out again, she was holding a baby. “This is Nipa. Nipa, this is Sanjay, the one I’ve been talking about.”
Nipa looked at him for a moment, then hid her face against Kusum’s chest.
“Where is she—” he began.
“Later,” she said. “I have much to tell you. First, come.”
She led him around to the open back of the truck. Sitting inside were Kusum’s mother and her two cousins, but there were also nearly two dozen people Sanjay had never seen before, most of them kids.
He looked at Kusum, confused.
“We couldn’t just leave them on their own,” she said.
“Of course you couldn’t,” he told her. It had never been just Kusum’s beauty that drew him to her. It had also been her compassion.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Everyone, this is Sanjay.”
There was a chorus of greetings. He nodded and said hello several times, but the more he did, the more a question grew in his mind.
Did he have enough vaccine for everyone?
33
Li Jiao had a simple garden of potted plants on the small balcony of her second-floor apartment. Despite its lack of size, she took pride in what she’d been able to create. In spring she often had the most beautiful flowers on the whole block.
The news about what was happening in the rest of the world was frightening. She had watched for hours as reports came in from America and Europe and even elsewhere in Asia about the boxes and their deadly cargo. The endless reports were what finally drove her back outside, knowing she’d be able to forget everything else as she tended her plants.
So when she saw Madam Zhang step out of the apartment building across the street, she leaned over her balcony, yelled out a greeting, and waved as if it were just any other day. Madam Zhang, though, made no indication that she’d heard Jiao at all.
As Jiao started to call out again, the words died in her throat. Madam Zhang, who Jiao knew was only in her thirties, was moving like an ancient grandmother. She pressed a hand against the side of the building as if she would otherwise fall. Then Madam Zhang stopped and leaned wearily against the wall.
Jiao quickly set down her pruning scissors, and rushed through her apartment out into the hallway. It took her less than a minute to reach the other side of the street.
Madam Zhang hadn’t moved.
“Where are you headed?” Jiao said. “Perhaps I can go with you.”
Madam Zhang took a labored breath. Jiao noticed sweat on the woman’s brow. “I need…to get some medicine for my husband.” She halfheartedly raised a hand holding a piece of paper with several items on it.
“I’m heading that way. Perhaps I can pick these up for you.”