Off Center (The Lament) (27 page)

She
was at a loss for a second, and it must have shown on her face, since he answered
without waiting for a question.

"Back
in the olden days, hundreds of years ago, we had gloves that helped to protect us
from bacteria and even viruses. You don't have that now, and only cleanliness is
available to protect you. Suggest that to everyone, often. In fact, have them scrub
every surface, if anyone is able to stand. It might help and will give them something
useful to do." He stood then and offered her a hand up, which she took, but
didn't put any weight on.

Then
she was pushed, gently, toward the door.

"Go
now. Hopefully this entire day was wasted and when you get there it will be just
a case of the sniffles being over reported. If not, I trust that you're better able
to handle it now than most would be. Remember what I said." He closed the door
behind her, leaving her out in the hallway, alone.

She'd
eaten, and had a good ten hours before they were going to be setting down, so decided
to sleep if she could. Roy wasn't in their room again. She didn't let herself think
about it, choosing rest instead. It was a nice dark room and she felt, if not safe
and like she belonged, then at least like she wasn't going to be sent away any time
soon. Not for making a mistake or not being good enough.

That
was, she realized, about the first time in her entire life that had happened. She
wasn't happy about it, but she felt slightly... Strange. It was, she thought, what
people described when they said they were content. Pran knew that the morning would
be hard, and the day worse, so she tucked herself in and slept until she felt the
ship tilt, her entire body shifting so that she nearly rolled out of her cot.

This
time Roy was there, even though she couldn't see him at all.

"That's
our sign to be up then!" He sounded tired, and like he was faking being awake,
but that was enough. They had to get ready, but they had a bit of time before they'd
have to be alert.

Whole
hours even.

Pran
grinned and got up, so that she could have a hot shower before they were on the
ground. Who knew when she'd get one next?

When
they met in the back of the ship, the harnesses already on the handles of the med
pack box, looking a little slap dash and like an afterthought, instead of part of
the plan, she stopped.

It
was Clark that got her attention, since he was standing in front of the door, holding
out wax paper packages for each of them. They were fat, but folded to be just the
right size to fit into their front jacket pockets.

Roy
took one and looked pleased enough, but Mara snorted and shook her head.

"Cookies?
Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but it's a bit youthful, isn't it?"

The
large man gestured with a package at Pran, who snagged it with a grin.

"Captain
Mina was teasing Pran with them. I think this is her idea of a joke. If only all
humor were this tasty." He sounded slow, as if he didn't want to go out into
the snow and blustering wind that waited for them.

Pran
had peeked out a window and they weren't going to be strolling up a cleared road
or anything, that was for certain. She didn't know what the depth was, but Clark
explained it, as if trying to get them to quit, as if that were a real option.

"It's
knee deep here and still coming down. The wind isn't bad, but it's enough to cause
the snow to blow. We have a seven kilometer trip from here, but in snow like this,
and no doubt worse higher up, that's two days travel for most people. We don't have
two days. Once we start, we don't stop, so go to the bathroom now and make sure
you can reach your food and water. Work together."

Then,
as if that were the rallying speech, he moved them into place and had them hook
into the harnesses. That part worked at least, and she'd gotten it wide enough,
the strap that went over the shoulders, that it didn't hurt or anything.

That
done, they stopped and actually all went to take care of things, meeting back there
ten minutes later. Clark wasn't kidding about not stopping, it seemed. After that
they just moved. It wasn't just hard, it was brutal in every way Pran had feared
it would be. Worse in a lot of ways, since it was
cold
and so bright that
they had to cover their eyes with thin fabric, so they wouldn't go blind. The very
worst part was the snow itself though.

She
was a small person and used to living inside. Light and quick, she didn't sink when
she had occasion to go out in the white fluff like this. Now, carrying the weight
of the needed medicine, she and the others went knee deep with every step. It really
did get worse the higher up they went too. The road wound around the mountain, switching
back and forth over and again, so that they didn't have to climb with their burden
in any serious manner. That was one of the few things that made it possible at all.

She
remembered to drink water when she saw Mara doing it, but didn't eat, even with
fresh, and no doubt mainly frozen by that time, cookies right there in her pocket.
She was hungry, but she wasn't sure if they would stay down. They were simply working
too hard for that. After a while she came to hate the feeling and sound of snow.
They kept going, moving as fast as they could, slowing because of her and Roy, not
the Guardians. They were in better shape and stronger, so it wasn't as bad for them.

She
finally spoke, just as they rounded yet another corner, seeing a pristine white
path before them. It had been going on for hours already.

"Come
on. If we don't make it, people die." It was a lot less inspiring when she
said it out loud than it had been in her head, but Roy kept up and made a sound
that she took as being in agreement. That got a laugh from Mara.

"Darn
straight! We're almost there anyway, right Clark?"

Pran
was almost certain she was lying to them, in order to keep them going, but the other
Guardian agreed with her.

"Nearly.
I'd say that we can finish this in an hour, if we don't slack off. I know it's hard,
but you two are doing really well."

If
he wanted to say more he didn't, since a large and powerful wind came up then. They
didn't stop, but it took that hour of hard work and made it into nearly three of
brutal punishment. The world went nearly white and whatever trick Clark was using
to get them to the town, she didn't know it. She could barely see Mara ahead of
her, even in her dark clothing. The box they were carrying looked totally white
on the top too, covered in light powder.

When
Clark called for them to stop, Pran nearly thought he'd hurt himself, but then realized
he wouldn't have stopped just for that. Then she noticed that there were lights,
coming from the other side of windows. More, that there were buildings all around
them. It was a real town, as isolated as it was. They had some tall structures too,
not just single leveled things. A lot of the buildings were pointed at the top,
like wedges.

"So
the snow falls off." She said it out loud, but no one was paying attention.
Clark got people out to help them by the simple expedient of yelling.

"Strangers
come to aid you! Strangers come to give aid!" He bellowed it, but Pran got
the idea. No one would come out into this just to help someone would they?

"Stranger
come to aid!" Her own higher voice was matched by Mara, almost at the same
time, which was funny enough. Or would be, if she wasn't so tired she thought she
might fall down.

About
three choruses into that poorly rehearsed song, people flooded out, and not a single
one of them held a club or weapon on them either.

One
of them, a well bundled person that seemed like a woman from the voice shouted too,
even though it wasn't that noisy out. The wind blew and whistled a bit, and it was
hard to see, but she could hear just fine.

"Get
them inside! These are the ones with the medical supplies, from The Lament. The
council sent them."

From
the sounds people made they obviously all knew that already. They still carried
their burden, but the walking was easier, since the snow here was packed in places.
They followed a good ten people into a large A-frame building, which had a nice
warm fire inside, and lamps burning, as well as what seemed to be about thirteen
people laying on the floor, on makeshift pallets.

Pran
bent, her back so sore she nearly couldn't do it after the hours of strain, and
set the package down slowly. Then she backed up, with tears coming to her eyes from
the pain of movement. It was standing back up that really hurt though. She had to
however.

"Masks."
They all had scarves in front of their faces, but she started to work the clasps
on the box. They had enough to share, she thought. "Everyone that comes in
contact with a sick person needs to have a mask on. Even if they've already been
doing it for days. Here, take them. Now." She sounded young and tired, and
for some reason every single person listened to her.

They
did have them on, she realized. The townspeople. The ones in the box were just better
than the tied clothes they had, that was all. She waved at them anyway, the bits
of simple cloth people had.

"Good
thinking. I'll need to check the water source and food stores, have you had any
vermin problems? Rats or mice? Fleas or ticks?" She waited, and one of the
men nodded.

"The
fleas are fiercely bad this year, ma'am. Old Gert," he waved at the woman that
had spoken outside, who was getting a real mask into place, having snatched the
first one available. "She believes that it's a bacterial infection, not air
traveling. Made us wash all the walls and floors in everyplace that had a sick person
in it, with salt, just in case."

Pran
had no clue why she'd used salt, but acted like she understood.

"Just
so. Do it again. Sweep everything and wash anything fleas might hide in. Every place
in Hilden, including out buildings.  Gert, you're with me, since you're the medical
expert here. We need your head man or woman, are they available?" It turned
out that the man they wanted was right there.

Laying
off to the left, moaning softly. He was a thin man and fevered, with swollen black
lumps on his throat. His fingers were also ever so slightly blackened. Not horribly
so yet, but it was a definite sign.

That
was one of the symptoms that she was told to look for, but it wasn't Tigris fever
at all.

She
moved to the man and rather firmly started to lift his shirt up. No one stopped
her, but she still had her mittens on, so it was hard. It hurt to kneel too, but
she did it, since Doctor Millis would need to know what was happening. She examined
the man's under arms, and then started to pull down his pants. That got a reaction
from the room, and not a pleasant one, but she had backing from Old Gert, who told
them to look away and not be little ninnies.

"Let
the Doctor work, you fools!"

She
didn't correct the misapplied label.

There,
next to his crotch, was the rest of it. Swollen lymph nodes, burst and blackened,
she righted the man's clothing and put him back under the covers, then, painfully,
she stood up and looked at Clark and then Mara.

"Plague.
Probably flea borne. Get in touch with The Lament and pass the word. We need antibiotics.
Luckily we brought some with us. I can't believe that everyone is still alive."
Pran moved to the case hoping she had the right thing and wasn't letting her ability
to act fool her as well. She ran over what she'd been told and realized it was right
though. It was really clear, as to what it was. "Why didn't you report the
blackened lumps? Or the dead looking fingers?"

 Her
guess was that they'd been too shy to look under the clothing, but Gert moved in,
her thick white face mask showing her eyes. They were a stark gray and had heavy
wrinkles around them.

"That's
new. Just started a half day back."

It
was enough time to have reported it, but she didn't ask for more, since it wouldn't
help. Instead she got out the large bottle that had about a thousand identical pills
in it. It took a lot of digging to find it, but she started doling them out to anyone
that was sick and sent some off to the other places, where there were ill people.
A few hadn't wanted to leave home.

She
didn't mention it out loud, but they'd probably lose half of these people. The disease
was moving slower than it should, for some reason, which was the only thing that
might save them. That and the special drugs.

Then
she grabbed the first man that had spoken, who turned out to be the headman's son.

"Get
with Guardian Clark. The big one. Take him to where..." She didn't want to
say
radio
in public, but the man seemed to understand that and didn't make
her.

"This
way, Guardian. This way." He moved to the door, leaving the rest of them alone
with the dying. They weren't dead yet, however.