Authors: Jennifer Pelland
Suddenly, the girl looked so young. Younger than the students here. Younger than anyone Kathleen had seen in at least a year. About the same age as one of the nieces she’d buried. “I’m sorry about your family,” she whispered.
“He had a reason,” the girl said, turning her tear-streaked face to look up at Kathleen. “God wanted my little brother for a reason. He was such a good boy. There…there had to be a reason. There had to be. Oh God, I miss them!” She curled up on her side on the marble floor, sobs tearing from her throat, and she looked so young, so vulnerable.
Kathleen watched the girl and felt tired down to her bones. Tired of the constant fear. Tired of the distance people put between each other. Tired of the numbness that had replaced emotion. Tired of the bleak future she tried not to let herself imagine. Tired of waiting for her turn to come. She turned to look in the mirror, at the hair gone far too gray. It wasn’t worth living like this. This wasn’t life.
She pulled the ring from inside her sweater, clutched it tightly in her bare hand, and cursed what she was about to do.
* * * *
Tessa wanted to die. She wanted the earth to swallow her up. She wanted the virus to boil in her veins and bleed her out from the inside. Oh God, she couldn’t live anymore. She couldn’t bear it. She cried until her insides felt raw and then she cried some more, the void inside her filled with nothing but endless pain.
And then she felt gentle hands pulling her up, tucking her head in the crook of a neck, arms wrapping around her in a comforting embrace. She sank into it, grateful for the comfort, for the soft warm skin against her face, then a lightning jolt hit her belly and she reared back. “No! Oh God, I’m so sorry!”
“Shh, come back,” the woman said. “It’s probably too late already.” She held her arms out, and Tessa ached to fall back into them again.
“But why?” she whispered.
The woman shot her a wan smile. “Because you’re right. I’m saved this way.”
“But…but you’re dead! What if Father Moran’s wrong?”
“No, it’s not about that. I’m saved from being afraid of getting sick.” She laughed, a harsh, barking sound, and held her arms out again. “I don’t have to be afraid of the virus anymore.”
Tessa’s voice cracked as she said, “No, now you need to be more afraid.”
The woman sighed through her nose, looking down at the floor, then said, “But not for long.” She looked back up at Tessa with a steady, calm gaze.
Tessa sniffed loudly, another sob building in her belly, and she finally accepted the invitation of the woman’s arms, curling up into her, into her warmth, her comfort.
She was going to die before she turned seventeen, but at least she’d only be taking one person with her. And that was something she could live with.
* * * *
Notes on “For the Plague Thereof Was Exceeding Great”
I very distinctly remember the impetus for this story. I was reading about an AIDS conference in the paper, and walked away feeling both enraged at how little we were doing to help people with the disease, and despondent at the suffering of current and future victims. I tried to imagine what would happen if the disease got out of hand in the first world, and this was my nightmare scenario. To get the title, I flipped through the book of
Revelation
until something jumped out.
Revelation
is a great place to go for the scary quotes. And for the scary future possibilities of the disease, including new ways of spreading it, I pumped a pathologist friend of mine (Dr. Kristin Fiebelkorn) for details. There is nothing like watching a pathologist get into a “what if?” medical frenzy.
This story was also my first professional sale.
When I originally submitted this to
Strange Horizons
, the story had news clips as scene breaks.
Strange Horizons
asked me to revise them out and instead work the information from the clips into the narrative itself. And while I don’t regret making the edits to make the sale, I was always sad to see the news clips go. So here they are in all their dated glory.
The Boston Globe, December 1, 2010
Today is World AIDS Day. There is still no vaccine for HIV-6 or HIV-7, nor is there effective treatment to slow the progress of either virus once it enters a person’s bloodstream. Unlike pre-2004 HIV strains, HIV-6 and HIV-7 can be transmitted via saliva, sweat, tears, feces, and urine, and can live outside a human body for up to an hour. Readers are reminded to take all standard prevention measures. These include the use of surgical masks, surgical gloves, and protective eyewear, refraining from physical contact with strangers, limited physical contact with close friends and relatives, and regular HIV tests.
The cash-strapped MBTA is considering restricting subway service even further. The plan calls for the subway to run only during daylight hours, with limited service mid-day. It would also reduce bus service by 50% and eliminate the commuter rail. Communities surrounding Boston, which already have lost substantial service, are protesting the move, but it is expected to pass and go into effect in early 2011.
The Seventh Angel appears to be making an effort to establish themselves outside of the city of Boston. Seventh Angel posters have appeared on lampposts in Belmont, and several Cambridge citizens have told police that they believe they’ve seen members of the cult near the Somerville border. Cambridge’s chief of police commented, “We don’t have the resources to track down phantom leads. If anyone can give us solid information on where to find them, we’ll move on it.”
For the fourth year running, all major AIDS organizations have declared that, in the interest of public safety, there will be no rallies or public vigils to commemorate World AIDS Day. Instead, they ask that people observe a minute of silence at 9:15 a.m. EST. The FBI urges all Americans to take extra caution when leaving their homes, as they expect The Seventh Angel to step up their terrorist campaign today.
In a video press conference yesterday, President Gephardt affirmed his decision to maintain a state of martial law in Washington, DC. “It is vital to national security that our remaining lawmakers be kept safe,” he said. President Gephardt took office back in March of 2008 when then-President Kerry was assassinated by radical AIDS activists and it was revealed that Vice President Pelosi was too sick with AIDS to take office.
Current U.S. AIDS statistics: infected: 50% (estimated), dead: 100,000,000 (estimated). According to the CDC, official numbers are underreported, especially in cities and towns that no longer have functioning infrastructures.
The Cambridge AIDS Hospice is reporting a massive outbreak of antibiotic-resistant staphylococcus aureus, better known as staph infection. The outbreak was first discovered on Sunday, and seventeen patients have already died, with another forty-one currently infected. Officials still urge those who are newly infected with HIV to move to the hospice for the sake of public health.
Boston Mayor Maureen Feeney has announced that the Boston public school system will close after the winter break. She cited declining attendance and teacher fears as the reasons behind the decision. Said the mayor, “Parents are afraid to send their children to school, and teachers are afraid to potentially expose themselves HIV. With the majority of parents choosing to homeschool their children, it no longer makes economic sense to keep the schools open. And from a public safety standpoint, this is something we should have done at least a year ago, if not more.”
Healthy residents are fleeing Baltimore as it becomes increasingly clear that it is a city on the verge of collapse. The city has been without police or a fire department for seven months, and the last remaining hospital closed two weeks ago. It has no functioning airport, and most companies have stopped running deliveries in by road. Several other major cities, including Los Angeles and Miami, have already collapsed completely.
The residents of the gated community of New Salem committed group suicide last Thursday. A CDC team discovered this after being called in to investigate when nearby farmers reported that the residents had stopped ordering produce shipments. New Salem, which was located in Bolton, was a religious community that believed that HIV-6 and HIV-7 were signs of the end times. Unlike Seventh Angel, they did not embrace the disease, and instead gated themselves off in an attempt to remain healthy. The CDC reports finding one hundred and seventy-three dead of poisoning inside their walls. One additional man was found dead from crucifixion, and tests have revealed that he was HIV+.
Researchers in France say that they will have a vaccine ready for testing next spring. The infection rate in Western Europe is estimated at 40%, Eastern Europe at 60%. There has been no reliable news out of sub-Saharan Africa in eight months. The last known infection rate was close to 80%. Just last month, the disease reached all seven continents when a researcher at McMurdo Station, Antarctica was diagnosed with HIV-6.
“WHAT’S WITH THE BLACK DRESS? You look like you were just at a funeral.”
She drained her whisky sour and set the glass down on the bar. Pitching her voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of the other patrons, she said, “I was. My mother died.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” The man plunked down on the stool next to hers. “I never would have—”
She held her hand up. “It’s fine. We didn’t get along. It’s a relief, actually.”
“Still.” He pointed to her drink and said, “At least let me buy you another.” He raised his hand to flag the auto-barkeep and turned back to her, concern warring with poorly-disguised lasciviousness across his face.
She peered into his eyes and saw nothing special in them. Yes, he’d do. She rearranged her long, loose dress ever so slightly so she wouldn’t lose the strategically placed fabric wrinkle over her belly, then nodded at her empty glass.
She finished one more drink, barely pretending to pay attention to him. She knew she didn’t need to. She’d been watching the game from the sidelines long enough to know how it worked. He asked how she was getting home, she said she’d call a cab, and he offered to drive her instead. She played at refusing, then demurred and followed him out of the bar, where silence draped over them in the crisp night air.
He perked his head to the side. “Do you hear something? Kind of like somebody whispering?”
“Must be the wind,” she said, and pinched her belly hard.
In the car, she turned his sat-radio to her favorite freak-jazz frequency and gave him directions to her place. He deftly navigated the Boston tunnels, and when they arrived at her apartment, she invited him in. This time he played at refusing, but not for long. She took his jacket, hung it by the front door, and told him to help himself to a drink while she changed into something more comfortable. Then she went into the bedroom, stripped, laid down on the bed in the dark, and called for him.
He stepped into the doorframe, a shadowed outline. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I feel fine. I was hoping you’d keep me company.”
He let out a hard breath, and his faintly backlit outline stiffened. “I can barely see you. Your hall light’s broken.”
She’d disconnected it earlier that day. “Take off your clothes. I’ll light a candle.”
She heard shoes falling, pants unceremoniously dumped on the carpet, and then he froze, his shirt dangling from one hand. “I hear that whispering sound again,” he said.
“It’s the ventilation. It’s old.”
“You really should have that checked out.”
“Tomorrow.”
He shuffled his way toward the bed, an unsteady outline in the dark. “I can’t see where I’m going.”
“Just a little closer.”
He bumped against the edge of the mattress, and then it sagged under his weight as he settled down. “Is there a vent under your bed? The sound’s louder over here.”
She flicked her lighter and held it to the candlewick. The small fire flared just long enough for him to finally get a good look at her naked body in the dark.
“Jesus Christ!” he screamed, and backed toward the hallway, his eyes perfect spheres.
“Right, I forgot to tell you about my sister,” she said, gesturing to the flattened face peering out from her belly. “She wants to watch.”
“Jesus Christ!” He flailed for his clothes and ran into the hallway, not stopping to retrieve the shoe he’d missed.
“Her adult teeth never came in after her baby teeth fell out. She probably gives really good head!” she yelled.
Her front door slammed.
Little Sister whispered, “Bitch.”
Big Sister just grinned and pinched Little Sister’s face hard. This was going to be fun.
* * * *
They weren’t supposed to be Big Sister and Little Sister. They were supposed to be identical twins. But Little Sister came out wrong, the doctors couldn’t fix her, and Daddy couldn’t take it and he shot himself.
Mama always loved Little Sister best, and made Big Sister, who’d come out perfectly, wait on Little Sister deformed hand and missing foot. “You have everything, she has nothing,” Mama would say.
But that wasn’t true. Big Sister had nothing because Mama didn’t allow her anything. She had to run right home after school every day to sit by Little Sister, glaring at her tiny, twisted body, listening to the rattle and hiss of the machines that kept Little Sister captive in her bed, obeying Little Sister’s every whispered command as she watched her favorite holos with eyes that stubbornly refused to fail.
Big Sister wasn’t allowed friends, because friends might distract her from her duty to her sister. She wasn’t allowed to do any after-school activities, because they’d keep her away from the house. If she wanted to buy something, she had to order it through the holonet, because going shopping would mean leaving the house. “It wouldn’t be fair to your sister to watch you go do all these things she can’t,” Mama would say.
As if this were at all fair to Big Sister.