“What do you think it is?” another man asks. “Is it some kind of plague?”
“Could we all get it?” asks a woman. “What if it’s infectious and it’s in the air all around us?”
Before I can answer, Emma leans over and vomits again, bringing up a trickle of pale yellow liquid that drips from her lips.
“She’s the only one so far,” Deckard says darkly, “but I’ve been worried about this for a while. People don’t always follow the sanitation rules we put in place. It was only a matter of time before someone ended up paying the price. Then again, this seems like something more serious. I’m not sure poor sanitation alone could cause someone to get this sick, this fast.”
“We need to isolate her,” I reply, watching as Emma starts retching. Yellow bile trickles from her lips, mixed with a little blood. “Do we know what she’s done over the past day? Is there a chance that she’s left the town at any point and maybe eaten something poisonous?”
“She’s just been working the whole time,” says Mary, one of the other women. “Since the three new canopies arrived today, we’ve been trying to get them unpicked so we can turn them into blankets. Just a couple of hours ago, we were talking about all the possibilities.”
“Something must have caused this,” I mutter, as Emma lets out a slow, deep groan. I pause for a moment, before realizing what we have to do. “She needs to be quarantined,” I continue, turning to Deckard. “I want everyone to keep away from her. Anyone who’s already had physical contact with her today needs to be watched for symptoms.” Hearing a worried murmur from the crowd, I turn to them. “Most likely this is nothing serious, it’s just a passing bug, but we can’t cut corners. Did any of you have direct contact with Emma today? Did any of you touch her, or share a cup with her, anything like that?”
I wait, but no-one replies.
“This is important!” I say firmly. “Come on, who’s been in close proximity with her?”
Cautiously, one of the women puts her hand up, and a moment later one of the men does the same.
“That doesn’t mean we’ll get sick, does it?” the woman asks, with fear in her eyes.
“You’ll be fine,” I tell her, “but we’re taking precautions.” Hearing Emma vomiting again, I turn and look back down at her just in time to see that she’s trying to crawl away.
“Does anyone else feel any symptoms at all?” Deckard calls out. “If you do, now’s the time to speak up!”
As they continue to discuss the situation, I keep pace with Emma, watching as she tries to crawl away from the hut. I know I should tell her to conserve her strength, but to be honest I’m a little relieved that she seems to be trying to get to the edge of town. If she could rest out there, away from everyone else, there’s a chance she might recover without infecting anyone else. After a moment, however, I find that Deckard has come over to join me.
“I’m busy,” I tell him, still watching Emma.
“We need to move fast to contain this,” he replies.
“She’ll be okay.”
“You don’t believe that for one second,” he continues. “Look at her. Listen to her shallow breathing. She’ll be dead before morning, and it’s highly likely that she’ll have infected other people. Hoping for the best isn’t going to get us out of this one. If we don’t act fast, this sickness could spread through the entire town. It could kill everyone!”
“We don’t know it’s that bad yet,” I mutter.
“We have to take every precaution.”
“What’s your problem?” I hiss, turning to him. “Why are you—”
“This isn’t the time for you to panic!” he says firmly, interrupting me. “Whatever problem you have with me, Asher, save it for later. Right now we have to deal with this mess.”
Looking down at Emma as she continues to crawl across the ground, I realize that Deckard’s right. We have no medicine here on the island, nothing we can use to treat people, which means containment is our only hope.
“We’ll keep her apart from everyone else,” I say finally, “and keep an eye on the others for symptoms. Anyone who coughs has to be temporarily moved out of town, at least until we can be sure that they’re not sick.”
“I agree,” he replies. “Get everyone to leave for a while, just until you’re sure that no-one else is infected. Then they can return if they don’t have symptoms. Obviously this thing seems to progress rapidly, so it shouldn’t take too long to work out if anyone else is sick.” He turns to me. “You’ve made the right decision.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” I reply darkly.
Hearing another gasp from Emma, I look down and see that she’s almost at the edge of the clearing.
“Something seems very wrong here,” Deckard mutters. “It’s almost as if some kind of infection was introduced to the town.”
“I have to go with her,” I mutter, turning and walking away from him. Once I reach Emma, I look back and see that Deckard has returned to the town and is already taking charge, ordering people to report any symptoms they might experience. When I look down at Emma again, I realize that I can’t risk touching her, not if she’s infectious. “It’s okay,” I say finally, even though I’m starting to fear the worst. “You’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be okay.”
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as he steps close enough to the hut’s charred doorway, I make my move. Stepping out, I grab the man’s neck and pull him back, while quickly placing the blade of my knife against his throat. He gasps and tries to pull away, but I’m holding him too firmly and he stops struggling soon enough. The knife’s blade presses against his flesh but doesn’t cut through, not yet.
It’s at times like this, I really wish I could still speak.
“Don’t kill me!” he stammers, his voice sounding cracked and dry. “Please, I wasn’t one of them! I just came to look for food!”
He seems old and frail, in his fifties or maybe even sixties, but I can’t afford to take any chances. Shoving him forward until he trips and falls to the ground, I glance around to make sure that there’s no sign of anyone else and then I step closer to him with my knife still raised. My heart is pounding and I’m worried that other people are going to come charging toward me at any moment. One wrong move in a situation like this, and I’ll be dead.
“Kill him and run,” Della whispers.
“Please!” the man shouts, holding his hands in front of his terrified face. “Don’t hurt me! I’m harmless!”
“That’s just what a killer would say,” Della points out. “Cut his throat. Anything else would be too much of a risk.”
Except Della would never say something like that. Della would be horrified if she could see me now.
I want to ask the old man who he is, and what he’s really doing here, but of course I can’t ask him a damn thing. Instead, I make my way slowly around him, poised to defend myself in case he tries to attack. There’s no sign of any weapons, and so far he seems harmless, but I’ve been fooled like that before. Life-and-death situations tend to bring out the worst in people.
“Who are you?” he asks. “Are you one of them? Are you one of the ones who burned this place to the ground?”
I shake my head.
“What do you want from me?” he continues. “I don’t have anything to give you!”
As I step behind him, he scrambles around and maintains eye contact. He seems absolutely terrified, as if he’s worried that I’ll drive the knife into his chest at any moment.