Part 46 (1/2)
After checking all the fis.h.i.+ng lines and traps and not finding anything, we filled up the water bottles in our backpacks and then sat by the river, by the short stretch of rapids. We had to rest a little while before starting the long hike back up the mountain, empty-handed.
”How are you feeling?” asked Chuck after a long silence. The white noise of the rapids was soothing.
”Good,” I lied.
I felt ill, but at least my head was back in the world.
”You hungry?”
”Not really,” I lied again.
”Do you remember that day, just before this all started, when I showed up at your place with lunch?”
Looking out over the river, staring at the bare trees, my mind rewound. Thinking about New York had the feeling of remembering a movie, like some fictional place I'd once spent time imagining myself within. The real world was here, this world of pain and hunger, of fear and doubt.
”When I was sleeping with Luke?”
”Yeah.”
”When you brought French fries with foie gras?”
”Exactly.”
We sat silently, remembering the glistening chunks of liver fat, reliving the taste.
”Oh, that's good,” groaned Chuck, imagining the same thing as me, and we both laughed.
Clenching my jaw, I felt pain shoot through my teeth. I opened my mouth and rubbed them. They were loose in their sockets, and my finger came away b.l.o.o.d.y.
”You know what?”
”What?”
”I think I have scurvy.”
Chuck laughed. ”Me too. I didn't want to say anything. When spring comes we should be able to find some fruits.”
”Always the man with a plan, huh?”
”Yeah.”
We sat silently again.
”I think I have worms,” said Chuck with a sigh.
Worms, creatures living inside of us-long, wriggling, and eyeless. I s.h.i.+vered.
”How do you know?” I asked, already afraid of the answer.
”I went to the bathroom in the woods yesterday...” He paused and looked into the gra.s.s. ”You don't want to know. It must be from eating the rodents.”
Again we sat in silence.
”I'm sorry you stayed for us, Chuck. You could have been here faster. All that preparation, I messed it all up for you.”
”Don't say that. You're our family. We're together.”
”You could have gotten away, further west. I'm sure there's still an America out there.”
A groan of pain from Chuck interrupted me, and I looked toward him. He was holding his arm.
”Are you okay?” I asked. ”What's wrong?”
Smiling sadly, he winced as he pulled his arm out of his sling. He'd been keeping it covered. Glancing at his hand, I could see it was swollen. More than swollen, the hand was black, and at first I thought it was just dirty- ”It's infected. I think something from the buckshot got into my skin, infected the broken bones in my hand.”
His hand had never really healed. He lifted his arm painfully. His hand was three times bigger than it should have been, and there were dark streaks beneath his translucent skin that tracked ominously up his arm.
”It started like this a few days ago, but it's getting real bad.”
”Maybe we can find a honeybee nest in the woods?”
I'd read in the survival app that honey was a strong antibiotic. Chuck didn't reply, and we sat silently again, this time for longer. An eagle circled the treetops in the distance. White clouds studded the blue sky.
”You're going to need to amputate my hand, my whole arm above the elbow.”
I watched the eagle.
”I can't do that, Chuck. My G.o.d, I have no idea-”
He grabbed me.
”You have to, Mike. The infection is spreading. If it gets to my heart it'll kill me.”
Tears were streaming down his face.
”How?”
”The hacksaw in the cellar, it'll get through the bone-”
”That rusty thing? It'll make the infection worse. It would kill you.”
”I'm going to die anyway,” he cried, laughing, turning his head away from me.
The eagle circled and circled in the distance.
”Take care of Ellarose for me, and Susie. Try to take care of them. You promise?”