Rising Tide (31 page)

Anders comes back to us with our results instead of Miranda. After he clears us for entry (we're all clean, as expected) he tells me that Miranda had to deal with something in the lab. I have a feeling that this is how things are going to be from now on. She's got her people, her operation, and her goal is in sight. Not that I mind. I'm happy to see her happy.

In the meantime, I content myself with helping out where I can. I help Rosie and Diego and Maya unload the
Osprey
and move the equipment over to the new science station (which apparently still needs a name—the boffins have developed a very complex system, with charts and graphs, to determine one). I get a glimpse of the electron microscope, which is a massive and modern-looking piece of tech. They've stabilized the ground it's on with some metal sheeting and heavy stones to anchor it. There's also a mess of wires and cables around it. It looks like it's hooked up to solar cells and several generators. Leave it to the boffins to figure out how something like that can work. Crazy Osaka in particular is pretty good at that sort of thing.

I spend a moment looking for Miranda or Sergei, but they don't seem to be around, so I go back to town. I notice as I do that there are a lot more vehicles on the footpaths that lead around the island. Bicycles, mostly, some with passenger compartments on their backs. I think they call them rickshaws. I find myself tempted to take one, then realize that I don't have anything to barter with. Makes me think, though. Barter can probably only work out here for so long. At what point do people start switching to something else? A money system like they had back in the Clean. The concept seems foreign to me, but I think it's probably inevitable. It's not that barter isn't a great concept—of course it is. I can see what you're offering me and in return I offer you something tangible, or a service or whatever. But the difficulty comes in the negotiation. And if you're a carpenter and I don't need any carpentry work done, what then? How do you get what you need?

The world is changing around you, Ben. Can you change with it?

When I reach town, I head straight for Lewis's office. I'm sure there's a bureaucracy here, a system that I should be going through, but we've done a lot for him, so I figure he owes me.

He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together. “Do you need something?”

I cross my arms. “Not me, Miranda.”

He frowns. “I believe I addressed—”

“She needs a place to sleep,” I say. “Not that box you have them all crammed into now. She's the head of this operation. She needs to stay sharp.”

His face goes hard. “I'm the head of this operation.”

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes. “She does all the heavy lifting.”

He chews on that for a moment. “I've already authorized the construction of new housing for Miranda's people. I picked a suitable spot, I think, between the main sprawl of town and the science station.”

“But that's going to take a while,” I say. “She needs something now.”

His expression turns thoughtful, and he nods to himself. “She has earned it.” I bet he's picturing the ceremony where he gives it to her. In front of lots and lots of people. Demonstrating his benevolence.

“Do you have something for her?”

He nods and taps his wooden desk. “There are a few places we can use.” His face clouds. “We've lost some people recently. Togs and Pepper, for example.”

I look at him blankly.

“They were an older couple, here with us almost from the beginning. . . . They were good people.”

“What happened to them?” I ask.

“They died,” he says, surprised.

“I figured that. How?”

“It was an infection. Not the Bug, of course, but just some kind of pneumonia.”

I know it's irrational, but I wonder about moving in to a place that had disease.

“There are other places, too,” Lewis says, as if reading my mind. “Bates, you know him?” I shake my head. “He moved in with his partner, Tyler. His house is open.” He waves a hand in the air. “There are others.”

“Great.”

He stares at me. “You know I don't have the people to help set it up, don't you? We're stretched thin as it is with everything going on.”

I nod. “I'll see what I can do.”

His expression verges on incredulity, but he inclines his head in agreement.

“Then you can have Bates's place. I'll have one of the Keepers show you.”

“Thank you,” I say.

So the Keeper shows me the place, a small, wooden cabin with three rooms and a place to build a fire. Seems like it would be perfect for Miranda. There's a simple bed frame here, some furniture that was left behind. But it's dusty, and the air smells stale. It's going to need some work.

Well, Ben, you've been looking for a purpose.

I do what I can to sweep the house and dust it. The windows are simple hatches in the side, wood reinforced by metal, but I open these and try to get the air circulating. I've only ever really cleaned the
Cherub
's gondola. This is something of a new experience. Eventually it starts looking, and smelling, better.

I spend the rest of the day searching the markets of Tamoanchan. I have my cut from the run out to Maya and Hector's stash. Some of the items that Miranda didn't need. The blankets (which seem remarkably clean), I keep. But there are other items—some metal, a few mirrors, and some spices—that make great barter. I trade for some items to fix up the house, and I return to it and set them up. Blankets, pillows, some simple plates to eat off of. Jugs for water from the nearby well. Things like that.

And some cooked chicken. Someone here brought some birds back from the mainland and started breeding them. It cost a bundle (most of my good spices), but it's worth it.

Then I send a messenger off to Miranda and build a fire so that the house is nice and warm. Then I sit back and wait. She's been working really hard. She deserves something special. It occurs to me that this will be our first time alone together—truly alone—since, well, since the
Cherub
blew up. Something about that scares me.

I wait for a while. Then a while longer. I'm starting to get worried when there's a knock on the door. I can tell Miranda's knocking pattern immediately. I open the door with a wide smile on my face.

It fades when I see Miranda. She's been looking tired lately, of course, what with all the work and the poor sleeping conditions, but right now she looks worse—her face tight, her eyes red, as if she's been crying.

“What's the matter?” I ask.

She meets my eyes, and I see the sadness and pain there.

“Sergei's sick,” she says.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
hey come for Sergei in the morning, with guns.

It's a small island—word travels fast—and this is the Sick. People are paranoid about disease. The Bug has taught us that.

So they send four Keepers, each one carrying a rifle, to the house where Sergei is resting. They kick open the door, rifles out, and I freeze.

One of the Keepers pushes me against the wall. Sergei is lying on the bed, Miranda is sitting next to him. Over him. I see the rage sparking behind her eyes. “This man is sick!” she says.

“Which is why we have to move him into quarantine,” the head Keeper says, his voice muffled by the cloth wrapped around his mouth. “Please move away from him.”

“Miranda,” Sergei says, his voice weak, “I'll go.”

“No,” she says. “No, you won't.”

I don't move, but that's only because there's a rifle pointed at my chest and I don't want to be splattered all over the wall. I can tell by the posture of the Keepers and the way they're covered and protected that they're not playing around.

“We have to take him in,” the head Keeper repeats. “And you have to move away from the body.”

“This man needs treatment, not isolation.”

“This man, per island laws, has to be put into quarantine,” the head Keeper says, loudly and slowly.

“You'll have to shoot me, then,” Miranda says.

“Miranda,” I say.

“I won't let them take him.”

I examine the Keepers. They're all covered up, but I can see the tension in their posture. They're scared, tense. One of them could shoot Miranda.

“Let's just . . . calm down,” I say. “No one's getting shot today. We can all agree that that's the last thing we want, right?”

The head Keeper looks at me.

“Why don't you send for Lewis? He can help straighten this out.”

The head Keeper continues to look at me.

“It's worth it if we can avoid bloodshed, right?”

The head Keeper turns to one of his men and tells him to go. The Keeper in front of me pushes his rifle barrel into my chest.

Miranda turns back to Sergei, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. I know she's just trying to comfort him, but it's making me anxious. She's wearing gloves, and she's been mostly using her scarf, but whatever Sergei has right now is a mystery.

The thing is, I completely sympathize with these men. It doesn't matter if Sergei has the common cold, he's clearly sick and the cause, at least at this point, is unknown. Miranda tested him for the Bug—we know it's not that—but she can't tell what it is. Getting Sergei locked away is, frankly, the best way to deal with it.

On the other hand, the Keepers are likely to throw him into a bare cell and leave him there to die. Miranda's the best person on the island to be with him, and he needs a bed, water to drink, care.

I want to relax and wait for Lewis, but it's hard with the rifle jammed into my sternum. And the head Keeper is looking at Miranda in a way that's making me uncomfortable. “Move away from the body,” he says.

“He's not a body,” Miranda says. “His name is Sergei.”

The Keeper advances, his rifle up, pointed at Miranda. “Move away now.”

The Keeper on me turns to look at their leader along with everyone else, and without thinking I swivel, quickly, slapping the barrel of the rifle away, slamming my head forward into his.

I'm already stepping forward toward the lead man and Miranda when three other rifles turn to bear on me. Everyone is yelling, but I can't make out the words.

I want to reach for the revolver, but I force myself not to. I think,
This is it. I'm going to get shot here, a stain on the wall of the cabin I tried so hard to clean.

“Stand down!”

Everyone turns to see Lewis standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, his face rigid. “Put your weapons down.” Then, when no one immediately complies, “Now!”

The Keepers lower their rifles.

“What the hell is going on?” Lewis asks.

“She won't move away and let us take him,” the lead Keeper says.

“He needs treatment,” Miranda says. “You have to let me treat him.”

Lewis crosses his arms. “We have protocols about disease. You should understand that.”

Miranda keeps her voice low and even. “I've already tested him for Maenad. He's clean. His symptoms are different.”

“Do you know what he has, then?” Lewis asks.

Miranda is silent for a moment. “No. Not yet. But I will.”

“He needs to be in quarantine,” Lewis says. “And honestly, so do you.”

“What?” I ask.

“Whatever he has, you're probably exposed,” Lewis says.

“You don't know that,” Miranda says. “We don't know what this is.”

Lewis shrugs. “You wanted to treat him. To examine him. You can do that from quarantine.”

“I'll need my equipment. My team.”

“Uh-uh.” Lewis shakes his head. He points at Miranda. “Just you.”

“But—”

“We have to limit exposure. You examine him, you figure out what's going on. Just you.”

Miranda opens her mouth, about to speak, and then just exhales into a sigh. “Okay. Just me.”

I wonder if she would have agreed if it had been anyone other than Sergei.

I think about offering to go with them, but . . . I don't. I look at Sergei, his skin gray and drawn, his face shining with perspiration, and I don't. I curse myself for it. But I keep my mouth shut. I tell myself that I'd be useless with them, and it's true, but I still curse myself.

Miranda gets to her feet. “We'll need to carry him,” she says. “I can help rig us a stretcher.”

“There should be some wood nearby, from the new constructions,” Lewis says. He sends two of the Keepers to go get something.

Miranda catches my eye. “Looks like it's my turn to take the crown.” She smiles, though there's no mirth in it. “The Quarantine Queen.”

“It won't be for long,” I say. “You'll figure out what's wrong with him. And you'll fix it.”

She nods, but it looks as if she's not completely sure. “I need you to help keep an eye on the team.”

“Okay,” I say.

“I mean it,” she says. “They tend to get a little . . . scattered when I'm not around.”

“I noticed.” I nod. “Done.”

“And . . .” she says, and I don't like the look on her face. It looks like she's about to dare me.

“And what?”

“And I need you to talk to Clay.”

“Oh, great.”

“I need you to ask him what Sergei's been doing. If he's been working with anything different or new. If he exhibited any symptoms before he collapsed.”

I sigh. “Okay. For you and for Sergei.”

“And Ben. Try to be nice.”

“Me? I'm always nice.”

She gives me a look that says she knows better.

“Okay,” I say. “I'll be as nice as I can.”

“Good.” She smiles at me again. We both stand there for a moment. I want to go to her, hug her, tell her it's going to be okay. But I can't. If I do, I'm joining them in quarantine. Instead, I say, “You'll fix this. I know you will.” It sounds weak.