But the horror only hit her when she heard Uncle Gary cry out.
It was a shout of pure mindless pain, and as she sprang from the chair to go to him, she saw his body begin to thrash. “A seizure!” she shouted. “Help, someone, he’s having a seizure!”
Then the other two patients in the room began seizing as well—and alarms sounded from up and down the hall. Verlaine realized every single person struck down by the dark magic was in agony, all of them at once.
She’s killing them, every one of them, right now, oh, God, I need Nadia and she’s gone, there’s nothing we can do—
“Somebody, help!” This time her voice was a scream.
The next hour was a blur of nurses running and CDC guys hovering and Uncle Dave dragging her out of the hospital room. She wanted to collapse in his arms, but he was crying so hard that she felt she had to hold him up. No time for her to fall. Verlaine had to be strong.
By the time a doctor came out to talk to the throngs in the waiting room, people were miserable and angry and wretched. Despite Verlaine’s worst fears, nobody had died; they’d all stabilized back to the same coma state as before. Whatever pain Elizabeth had inflicted on them hadn’t been fatal.
She’s keeping them, Verlaine realized. Like fireflies trapped in a jar. She’s keeping all those people so she can torture them again and again, to build her bridge for the One Beneath.
The only end to Uncle Gary’s pain would come when Elizabeth had made him hurt so much he couldn’t take any more, or when she’d brought about the end of the world.
Uncle Dave was staying behind, so she left. Numbly Verlaine walked out into the cold, not even bothering to fasten her coat. Misery knotted her up from the inside, so much that it felt odd to even stand up straight.
Still, she had to do something useful. Something helpful. Right now she couldn’t battle the One Beneath or Elizabeth, or even help Nadia, so that left getting something for her and Uncle Dave to eat. So Verlaine lined up at one of the CDC supply trucks to get their house’s rations. It wasn’t that long a line—most people had a few days’ worth of groceries to fall back on—but she and Uncle Dave hadn’t been shopping since Uncle Gary’s collapse. The only one in their house with food remaining was Smuckers, and even now Verlaine wasn’t miserable enough to start eating Meow Mix.
After she took the sack of food, she began trudging back home. Gas rationing had begun, which meant she couldn’t fill the land yacht up until tomorrow; she had to hoof it today.
Verlaine didn’t mind that—she felt as though she were beyond caring about anything—until a couple of guys fell into step behind her.
“Hey,” one of them said. “Hey.”
She tried to ignore this. In a town as small as Captive’s Sound, nobody was a total stranger, but these guys were unfamiliar. They worked down at the dock, she thought.“Hey, gray-haired girl. Hey, come on, talk to us.”
“I’m busy,” Verlaine said without turning around.
“Those rations you got there? Government chow? It sucks, huh?”
It did suck. The food the CDC handed out was like the stuff she’d sometimes put aside for a church food drive, then take back because it seemed cruel to foist it off on poor people: brick cheese, rice, beans, pasta, and lots of canned food, usually food you didn’t even want when fresh, like beets. Verlaine figured it was better than nothing, but that was all it was better than.
“Hey, come on. You don’t want to talk with us?”
“By now I’d think that would be obvious,” she snapped.
Both of them just laughed, and the one who had been quiet up until now said, “You’re not gonna share? You’re not the only hungry person in the world, you know.”
What a relief to know they only wanted the food. If it came down to it, she could drop the sack and run as fast as her legs would carry her. These two wouldn’t come after her, because they’d be too busy scooping up this crappy canned food.
But then she and Uncle Dave wouldn’t have much to eat. She’d have to try to tough it out.
“Why are you being so stuck up?” the first guy said. “We’re trying to be friendly. You’re too good to talk to us, share what you’ve got to eat?”
Walk faster, she thought, but she couldn’t. Her body had burned through all its adrenaline at the hospital, and she had none left to match her fear. Exhaustion dragged at her, and she wondered whether she could run even if she had to.
The second guy, still quieter, said, “Why are you being such a bitch?”
Verlaine turned. “Why are you being such idiots? Listen. This is my food. Mine and my family’s. You want yours? Get in line like everyone else!” She dropped one of the bags at her feet, reached into her purse, and pulled out the pepper spray. “Things are screwed up in this town right now. But that doesn’t mean you can get away with anything you want. Now get the hell away from me before I burn your eyes out with this stuff, and don’t think I won’t.”
That wiped the smiles off their faces. As they slunk away, Verlaine let out a sigh. She doubted they’d follow her—they looked pretty shamefaced—but still, she thought she’d watch them go for a while before she turned her back.
Then she heard a soft laugh. “You’re more ferocious than I realized. I like that in a woman.”
“Asa.” Verlaine turned her head to see him standing off to the side, leaning against a parked car, utterly casual. “Wow, thanks for jumping in and saving me.”