In a Handful of Dust

Carter stepped in front of Lucy. “We came up here to deliver a message,” he said, “and we’ve done it. We’ll be leaving now.”

“You came up here to make a fool of me,” Abigail hissed at them. “Devon ain’t sick with nothing but lust, looking at that woman who calls herself your mother, little girl. You wanna make a laughingstock of me, drag me down the hill so I see what’s really keeping him down there?”

Carter stepped backward, pushing Lucy behind him. “Nobody’s laughing down there, Abigail. I promise you that.”

“Go on then.” She jerked the rifle toward them. “Get on back down there and tell my man to come back to me, and bring my son. I know he’s whole, and I know he’s well, and I know you two are full of shit.”

Her voice cracked on the last word and she retreated back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Carter and Lucy stumbled down the decline of the hill as they headed for the woods, Abigail’s rising sobs breaking on their ears.

“Does she really think we’d make up a story to bring her down the hill for kicks?” Lucy asked.

“Hard to say.” Carter held a tree branch back for her to pass by before letting it snap back. She smiled to herself; a year ago he would’ve let it hit her in the face. “But don’t let what some crackpot thinks of you ruin your day.”

“It’s more likely the dead bodies’ll do that,” Lucy said.

Carter laughed and grabbed her hand suddenly. “Remind me never to come to you for comfort.”

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he waved her off and they walked on, fingers intertwined. They followed the stream downhill toward Vera’s, neither of them commenting on the fact that they were holding hands, or how very normal it felt.

Lucy dropped his hand as they came into the clearing near Vera’s cabin. She could hear Lynn clearly as they approached. “You’d better be damn sure about this,” she was saying. “Once it’s said, there’s no taking it back.”

“Something’s up,” Carter said.

The door was propped open, and through it Lucy could see Vera bent over her notes, exhaustion dimming the usual brightness of her eyes. “I’m sure,” Vera said quietly.

Lucy knocked hesitantly on the open door. “Uh… are we interrupting?”

Stebbs shook his head. “No. You need to come in here. Both of you. And shut the door behind you.”

Lucy’s trembling hand struggled with the simple hook-and-eye lock. Stebbs was only serious with her when things were dire.

The three adults looked at one another for a moment, the weight of their silence resting on Lucy’s heart more heavily than any words. “What? What is it?”

“Who’s gonna tell him?” Lynn asked, looking to Vera and Stebbs.

“Tell me what?” Carter asked, his hand finding Lucy’s despite the adults seeing.

Vera cleared her throat. “I’ve been looking at my notes, trying to figure out the source of the outbreak. You remember there was a lull, and then we got slammed by more sick than we had in the first wave.”

“Like the brothers and sisters of people that were first sick,” Lucy said slowly. “They were passing it to each other.”

“Except they weren’t,” Vera said. “I thought so too, but then I realized the incubation period was wrong. If the second wave of patients were catching it from their siblings, they would’ve been symptomatic sooner. Instead they weren’t showing up here until their brothers and sisters were better.”

“Or dead,” Lynn added.

“Incubation period?” Carter looked from Vera to Stebbs. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s the time period from when you’re exposed to the virus to when it actually makes you sick. This second wave was getting sick after they came here.”

“So they caught it here,” Lucy said. “No big surprise, this place was crawling with sick.”

Vera shook her head. “No, sweetheart. We made sure there was no contact between the well and the ill. The first rule of keeping a contagion in hand is quarantine.”

“People break rules, Grandma.”

“If it were an isolated case or two, I would agree,” Vera said. “But every person in the second wave had been here. So it had to have been someone carrying it between the two groups.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Carter said, color draining from his face. “It was me, wasn’t it? I must’ve mixed up which canteen I was using for the sick and for the well.”

Lucy felt his fingers go cold in her own. “You wouldn’t do that,” she said, voice hard. “You wouldn’t make a mistake like that.”

Stebbs walked over from his place beside Vera and put a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “It’s best you sit down, son. There’s more to tell.” Stebbs steered him away from Lucy to the empty chair opposite Vera.

“Lucy,” Lynn said. “You come on over here with me now.”

Her body tensed in rebellion, every muscle wanting to follow Carter, but Lynn’s tone left no room for argument, and Lucy joined her against the wall.

“He wouldn’t have done that,” she said vehemently to Lynn. “He’s smarter than that.”

“It wasn’t the water,” said Vera. “Do you remember me telling everyone about the different kinds of polio, and how they affect people?”