longer feed himself. Then he could no longer
eat or drink even if fed. On the Ark, he would have been fed intravenously. But no member of the Ark crew who
reached this stage had survived, reinfection or no. Eli and a weeping Meda cared for him, then for his wife, whose
symptoms also worsened. He lost control of all his bodily functions. He urinated and defecated, spat and drooled. His
body twitched and convulsed and sweated profusely. He probably shed enough disease organisms to contaminate a city.
On the fourth day following the onset of symptoms, he died -probably of dehydration and exhaustion. On life support,
he would have lasted longer, but the end would have been the same. Eli was glad there were no facilities for prolonging
the old man's suffering.
Meda's mother died a day later as did her two brothers and a tiny, perfectly formed nephew born three months too soon.
Meda herself never really sickened. She became more and more despondent as her family died, became almost suicidal,
but her physical symptoms remained bearable. She was learning to use her enhanced senses or at least tolerate them.
And in spite of all the horror, every night and sometimes during the day, she went to Eli or he came to her. Without
discussion, he moved into her room. She did not understand how she could touch him with the disaster he had brought
to her family happening all around her. Yet she found comfort with him. And, though she did not know it, she gave him
comfort, eased his guilt simply by continuing to live. They leaned on each other desperately, and somehow held each
other up.
Her father realized what they were doing before he died. He first cursed her, called her a harlot. Then he apologized
and wept. He seized Eli's wrist with only a ghost of the great strength he should have possessed.
"Take care of her!" he whispered. It was more a command than a request. Even more softly, he said, "I know it might
have been me or one of her brothers if not for you. Take care of her, please."
To Eli's own surprise, he wept. He was trapped in a vise of guilt and grief. He was alive because of the old man.
Gabriel Boyd had given him a home and thus kept him from drifting into a town and spreading the disease. It was his
grandfather all over again-a stern, godly old man who took in strays. A dangerous practice these days-taking in strays.
He worried about Meda. Worried that he might not be able to take care of her-that she might die in spite of her apparent
adjustment. That would make him a complete failure. That would drive him away even if her sisters-in-law lived. In his
mind, only her living would ease his questioning of his own humanity. He had stayed to save her. Now she must live or
he was a monster, utterly evil, completely without control of the thing that made him monstrous.
She lived. He stayed with her constantly during the period when she might try to take her life. Later when the organism
took firmer hold, suicide would be impossible. Now, he watched her.
Most of the time she hated him at least as much as she needed him. She lost weight and her clothing sagged on her. She
gained strength, and when she hit him, it hurt. Guiltily, he did not strike back.
She helped him wash the corpses of her parents, her brothers, and her nephew. For him it was a penance he would not
permit himself to avoid. For her it was a good-bye.
They wrapped the bodies in clean sheets, took them to a place she had chosen. There, together, they broke the ground,
dug the graves. The sisters-in-law did not help, but they crept out to stand red-eyed over the graves as Eli read from
Lamentations and from Job. They cried and Meda said a prayer and it was over.
Later, Meda tried to comfort her sisters-in-law. They were older than she, but she had a more dominant personality, and
they tended to defer to her-except in one important way. They preferred to be comforted by Eli. Their drives were as
much increased as Meda's and they had no
eat or drink even if fed. On the Ark, he would have been fed intravenously. But no member of the Ark crew who
reached this stage had survived, reinfection or no. Eli and a weeping Meda cared for him, then for his wife, whose
symptoms also worsened. He lost control of all his bodily functions. He urinated and defecated, spat and drooled. His
body twitched and convulsed and sweated profusely. He probably shed enough disease organisms to contaminate a city.
On the fourth day following the onset of symptoms, he died -probably of dehydration and exhaustion. On life support,
he would have lasted longer, but the end would have been the same. Eli was glad there were no facilities for prolonging
the old man's suffering.
Meda's mother died a day later as did her two brothers and a tiny, perfectly formed nephew born three months too soon.
Meda herself never really sickened. She became more and more despondent as her family died, became almost suicidal,
but her physical symptoms remained bearable. She was learning to use her enhanced senses or at least tolerate them.
And in spite of all the horror, every night and sometimes during the day, she went to Eli or he came to her. Without
discussion, he moved into her room. She did not understand how she could touch him with the disaster he had brought
to her family happening all around her. Yet she found comfort with him. And, though she did not know it, she gave him
comfort, eased his guilt simply by continuing to live. They leaned on each other desperately, and somehow held each
other up.
Her father realized what they were doing before he died. He first cursed her, called her a harlot. Then he apologized
and wept. He seized Eli's wrist with only a ghost of the great strength he should have possessed.
"Take care of her!" he whispered. It was more a command than a request. Even more softly, he said, "I know it might
have been me or one of her brothers if not for you. Take care of her, please."
To Eli's own surprise, he wept. He was trapped in a vise of guilt and grief. He was alive because of the old man.
Gabriel Boyd had given him a home and thus kept him from drifting into a town and spreading the disease. It was his
grandfather all over again-a stern, godly old man who took in strays. A dangerous practice these days-taking in strays.
He worried about Meda. Worried that he might not be able to take care of her-that she might die in spite of her apparent
adjustment. That would make him a complete failure. That would drive him away even if her sisters-in-law lived. In his
mind, only her living would ease his questioning of his own humanity. He had stayed to save her. Now she must live or
he was a monster, utterly evil, completely without control of the thing that made him monstrous.
She lived. He stayed with her constantly during the period when she might try to take her life. Later when the organism
took firmer hold, suicide would be impossible. Now, he watched her.
Most of the time she hated him at least as much as she needed him. She lost weight and her clothing sagged on her. She
gained strength, and when she hit him, it hurt. Guiltily, he did not strike back.
She helped him wash the corpses of her parents, her brothers, and her nephew. For him it was a penance he would not
permit himself to avoid. For her it was a good-bye.
They wrapped the bodies in clean sheets, took them to a place she had chosen. There, together, they broke the ground,
dug the graves. The sisters-in-law did not help, but they crept out to stand red-eyed over the graves as Eli read from
Lamentations and from Job. They cried and Meda said a prayer and it was over.
Later, Meda tried to comfort her sisters-in-law. They were older than she, but she had a more dominant personality, and
they tended to defer to her-except in one important way. They preferred to be comforted by Eli. Their drives were as
much increased as Meda's and they had no
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