he said. She felt the cold cloth smooth over her forehead, break the tight shell of sweat and dirt that smeared her cheeks and the corner of her eyes. Then the soft chiming drip of the cloth being soaked again. He pulled the mask from her nose and mouth and the cool air was fresh and sweet with the smell of the crushed grass beneath them. The water dripped and curled down her neck, leaving a trail of relief behind. He reached for one of her hands and her eyes flew open.
“Not yet,” she said, pulling back. “Not yet. Let me pretend a little longer.”
He shook his head, his eyes already red with grief. “Why? What good will it do? Whether you know or not, the outcome is the same.”
“Because if I’m infected, I’ll go to another cell. We’ll be apart. I just want to wait another minute. I won’t touch you, I just want to wait a minute.”
“You aren’t leaving. Besides, I kissed you already.”
“The gloves broke when I was getting the rocks. You aren’t exposed. When I clean my hands, everything will change.”
He pulled at her hand again. “It won’t, Nella.”
She let him pull the shredded plastic from her hand. The soft roll of water swallowed her hand as he submerged it in the bucket, gingerly scrubbing with the kerchief. She pulled it from the water and it shone in the lamplight. Her eyes were too full of tears to focus.
“See?” he said, kissing her palm, “all clean, not a scrape.”
She sobbed as he moved to the other hand. “Everyone’s gone,” she said, “why would I be different? There’s always a price, Frank. Always. I killed my friend. The world doesn’t let that go for free.”
“A disease killed Christine. A disease killed Sevita. Not you. Not me. You have to calm down. Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”
Nella shook her head, but he just pulled the plastic from her hand and pulled it into the water. The sting of her skin told her it was broken. She didn’t even look as he pulled it back into the light.
She pulled her hand back and slid over toward the packs. “You aren’t leaving,” he said.
“I have to. You’re safe right now. If I cough, if I touch a cut on your skin, you’ll get it too.”
“Maybe you’re immune. You couldn’t carry it if you were immune, right?”
She tugged on one of the straps of her pack. “I don’t think anyone’s immune, Frank. They would have made sure. They would have tried to infect as many people as possible. That was the whole point, remember?”
“But there have to be some . A few.”
“Why should I be immune?”
“Maybe I am then.”
“We’re not.” She pulled the pack free. He yanked it away.
“You aren’t leaving.”
“Stop, Frank.”
“I told you that it wasn’t me turning that scared me most, it was watching you go through that misery. The worst has already happened. Either you are immune and we’ll both be fine, or you’re already infected and I’ll take care of you as long as I am able. There’s nothing left to be afraid of.”
“You can still be fine.”
He shook his head. “No, I can’t be. Nothing will ever be okay without you.”
“Don’t make this harder—” she started, but he closed his long hands around her arms and kissed her hard enough to be painful. She tried to draw back, but he pulled her even tighter and she tasted salt as his bottom lip split with the pressure. She gasped in pain and he let go.
“What have you done?” she cried.
“There was no other way to convince you,” he said, “I told you I didn’t want to be protected from you. If you’re infected, I’m infected. There’s no way I’m reliving the hospital. We stay together until the end.”
A dark spot of blood welled up where his lip had split. She wiped it away with one finger, still crying.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said, but she wasn’t certain he really meant it. He pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t mean to. If there’s another reason— if you want to go, I’ll let you.
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson