Part 24 (1/2)

Lana had no particular ritual for healing. She just touched the person and tried to focus.

”Who are you?” Dahra snapped at Sanjit.

”Lana's boyfriend,” Sanjit said.

”No, he's not,” Lana said.

”You shouldn't be here,” Dahra said to Sanjit. ”We've got three known dead already. Go wash yourself off in the ocean and go home.”

”Thanks, but I'll stay. I want to help.”

Dahra stared, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if he was crazy. ”You really want to help? Because I need someone to empty out the bucket. If you really want to help.”

”I do. What bucket?”

Dahra pointed to a plastic trash can with a lid. Around it was a reeking pile of Tupperware containers that Dahra used as bedpans.

Sanjit scooped up the bedpans and balanced them on top of the bucket of urine and feces. The stench filled the room.

”There's a trench in the square. Then, if you're motivated, you could rinse everything out in the surf.”

”I'll be right back,” Sanjit said.

When he was gone, Dahra said, ”I like your boyfriend. Not many guys volunteer to carry ten gallons of diarrhea and vomit.”

Lana laughed. ”He's not my boyfriend.”

”Yeah, well, he can be mine if he wants to be. He's cute. And he carries c.r.a.p.”

Lana felt the girl under her hand shudder and shake.

Dahra was moving automatically from bed to bed, cot to cot, pile of blankets on the floor to pile of blankets on the floor. She sighed as she wrote down another temperature. She was keeping records. Probably not as good as a doctor would do, but better than the average fourteen-year-old girl with twenty-one hacking, s.h.i.+vering patients could be expected to do.

”Why can't I do this?” Lana wondered aloud. ”The first round of flu it worked, mostly.”

”Immunity, right?” Dahra said. ”The virus gets into you, and then your body fights back. The virus learns, comes back ready for a new fight. So instead of reprogramming to beat antibodies it reprogrammed to beat you.”

”I'm not an antibody,” Lana said.

”Yeah, and this isn't the old world, is it? This is some freak show where nothing works exactly the way it should.”

His freak show, Lana thought. A single match and she could have burned it out, killed it. Maybe. How many deaths had come because Lana had failed?

A boy Lana knew, a first grader named Dorian, suddenly stood up and started running for the door. It was a weaving, unsteady run.

Dahra cursed and made a s.n.a.t.c.h for him.

The kid was out the door in a flash.

A moment later Sanjit reappeared with Dorian under one arm and the now semi-clean toilet bucket and containers in the other.

”Come on, little man,” he said. ”Back to bed.”

But Dorian wasn't having it. He started screaming and flailing around.

Pandemonium erupted. Two kids started crying loudly, a third rolled off his bed onto the floor, and a fourth was shouting, ”I want my mommy, I want my mommy.”

Then, a cough that was so loud it drew every eye. The little boy, Dorian.

He was standing up. He seemed startled by what had just come from his mouth.

He reared back and coughed again.

”No,” Dahra gasped.

Lana leaped to the little boy's side and pressed her hand against the side of his head.

He coughed with such force it knocked him down, flat on his back.

Sanjit straddled him, holding him down, while Lana lay her hands on him, one on his heaving chest, the other on the side of his throat.

Dorian coughed, a spasm so powerful Sanjit fell backward and Dorian's head smacked against the floor with a sickening crack. Lana kept her hold on him.

”He's so hot I can barely keep my-,” Lana said as Dorian convulsed, bent into a C, and erupted in a cough that sprayed b.l.o.o.d.y chunks over Sanjit's face.

Lana did not waver, did not pull back, but Dorian coughed again, and now blood seeped from his ears and pulsed from his lips.

Lana stood up suddenly and backed away.

”Don't stop,” Dahra begged.

”I can't cure death,” Lana whispered.

Just then two kids appeared in the doorway carrying a third. Lana could see from clear across the room that the girl they were struggling to carry was already gone.

Dahra saw it, too. ”Set her down,” she said to them. ”Just set her down and get out of here, wash yourselves in the surf, and then go home.”

”Will she be okay? She lives with us.”

”We'll do everything we can,” Dahra said flatly. And when they beat a hasty retreat, she added under her breath, ”Which is not a d.a.m.n thing.”

Lana closed her eyes and could sense the Darkness reaching out for her, questing, a faint tentacle reaching to touch her mind.