Chapter 12: Jeremy is Dead.
A long time later after most of everybody was asleep again, Arnold carried a sleeping Helga Pataki to the hospital so that Dr. Brandon could splint her arm. It was clear that the doctor wasn't pleased about the accident, which Arnold understood, but Brandon was even more displeased with the fact that Arnold wasn't telling him exactly what had happened. 'She fell' was far from a good explanation.
Helga jumped awake and coughed a little when Brandon set her arm, then quickly fell back asleep as he splinted and bandaged the broken limb. It didn't bother Arnold at all that she was sleeping so heavily, in fact it relieved him a little. But Dr. Brandon seemed very concerned.
"Arnold, I know you don't want to tell me what happened today, but I'm very worried."
"Why?" Arnold asked.
"This morning was the first time I've seen her sleep in a while."
"How often do you see her sleep at all?" Arnold said with a light, off-handed tone. It wasn't as if Brandon lived with them in their flat and monitored when and where Helga slept. But Brandon looked at Arnold crossly, not finding it funny in the slightest.
"I'm worried about her health, Arnold." The gravity with which he spoke grabbed Arnold's concern.
"What do you mean?"
"You know a lot of the kids have been getting sick over the past few months."
Arnold nodded, waiting for him to continue.
"I think it might be some form of consumption."
Arnold face was blank. "A what?"
"Consumption. It's an old disease that affects the lungs and muscles. It used to effect people back before vaccines were developed, usually springing up in large cities or industrial areas where there was little sunlight and people lived in damp and dirty environments."
Arnold frowned. "Like here."
"Exactly."
"How serious is it?"
"For Helga, I'm not sure. If she has it, that is. She's quite a bit older than any of the other cases I've seen so far." Here Brandon paused, cleaning up what few supplies he'd left laying around after splinting Helga's arm.
Arnold waited for Brandon to continue while he retrieved a blanket from the end of the bed and covered the sleeping girl with it. While he did, something occurred to him.
"Brandon...that kid that died last week...did she have it?"
"I believe so." He said quietly.
"Was she the first to die from it?"
Brandon had taken a seat on the next cot over and was rubbing the bridge of his nose, looking quite exhausted. "No. There were two others."
Both men were quiet for a long time. Arnold watched Helga sleep peacefully, and the thought that she might not wake up again sent a shiver through his body.
He chided himself. He knew next to nothing about this disease.
"What can we do?"
"I'm not sure, Arnold. Even with the good supply of medicines we were able to recover, I don't think I have anything that would help us here. I think the only other thing we could do is give them sunlight and fresh air. But we'd have to take them outside for that."
"Yeah..."
There was another long silence before Brandon spoke again. "The best thing we can do now is pray."
Arnold resisted the urge to give the doctor a skeptical look. He knew Dr. Brandon was a religious man, and he didn't want to be rude. But he didn't think praying was something he could do very well.
Arnold sat back and pinched the top of his nose between his eyes, closing them as he did so. Those next few weeks had been so crazy for him, but there was hardly anything written about them in the next couple paragraphs. Mostly all he'd recorded was technical information about the survival of the community. He had a paragraph explaining James Weston's plan to supply more water by boiling the water running through the tunnels. There were off-handed mentions of the other survivors from the dragon-slaying incident. Some other mindless details, and of course the breakout of consumption was mentioned and explained, but nothing at all about Helga being ill, or the conversation he'd managed to have with little Justin after the death of his sister, or that sudden episode with Sara Ivory.
Arnold gazed down at his left hand and turned it over, revealing the deep scarring all over his palm and fingers. Yes, he remembered that day, in a manner of speaking. Not that Sara had been the cause of it, quite the contrary.
One could honestly say that the incident actually healed her of what she'd been suffering at the time, in a way.
Arnold couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. He looked up at James and Misha again, his expression still that of surprise, and then looked back down at the cup in his hands. Or rather, the contents of the cup.
Water.
Not purified and far from perfect, but clean, clear water.
From the sewer drains.
And it all made perfect sense. For almost two years, not a single toilet in the city had been flushed. Now, granted, people had been dumping their buckets of waste into the water, but for some reason the people had naturally decided to walk a distance away from the community to empty their buckets, so any water flowing anywhere near the living area had eventually began to run clean without anyone noticing. Not only that, but also the fact that it was still running at all was a miracle in itself!
Arnold looked up at the two men again, who were both smiling, and he smiled back. "This is awesome." Arnold said.
"Well, it's not exactly Purell," James said humbly through his thick Australian accent, though he was obviously pleased with his accomplishment, "but it works."
"And just in time, too." Arnold said, recalling that their last water run a couple weeks ago had been unsuccessful. After their first hose had run dry, they'd been transporting water from another hose a few blocks away. But that one had ceased to work just a week ago, and by this time what water they had was almost gone.
"I'm gonna head back to the clinic," Arnold said then, handing the cup back to Misha, "Do you want me to come back later and help you guys out?"
"Nah, you go ahead and stick with the doc, he probably needs you more than we do. I'll snag someone if we need help." Misha said.
"Alright."
Arnold allowed himself another small smile as he moved down the tunnel path, making his way toward the Main Hall. This stroke of good fortune was definitely something they needed right now.
Suddenly Arnold saw Sara Ivory heading straight for him, a strange expression gracing her fair features. His heartbeat quickened. Helga...
He moved quickly toward the other girl, but she spoke before he had a chance, and it was definitely not what he'd expected to hear.
"Arnold, is it true? They tried to kill a dragon?"
It took a second for Arnold to shake himself from his previous thoughts, then another second for him to wonder why she hadn't heard about it before now.
"Yeah."
"Where is he?" Sara asked. No, she was demanding. But was she referring to Maxwell of Curly? Did she actually know either of them? Or perhaps she meant someone else whom he hadn't yet met.
Arnold was at a loss for words. Sara was a fairly level-headed girl, quite a bit like Brandon in character. Yet now there was a wild sort of anger in her eyes that was completely foreign to her usually positive demeanor.
"Uh...who?" Arnold finally managed to say.
"Max Storm. He's here, isn't he?"
"Um...yeah, he's..."
Then, as if on cue, Max appeared a distance away, facing them, watching them. Or more appropriately, he was watching Sara.
"..He's right there." Arnold pointed.
Sara turned around, following Arnold's pointing finger. She and Max saw each other, and Arnold suddenly felt as though he'd stepped on a land mine, though he had no idea why.
What in the world is this all about? He wondered. Sara obviously knew Max from another life.
In a split second, Sara had closed the distance between herself and Max and, without an instant of hesitation, she let her hand fly.
There was a horrific crack that literally echoed off the concrete walls, and Max stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. One hand went to his face and he stared at the brunette girl with a look of complete shock in his dark eyes. Blood trickled from his nose.
Arnold ran up behind Sara but didn't dare interfere just yet. He wasn't too keen on sharing whatever gift Max had just received.
Not a word was spoken within a ten foot radius. Anyone near enough to see what Sara had just done was too surprised to question her reason.
Anybody who'd met Max yet could understand if someone had a general dislike of him. In the week since he'd arrived he'd proven himself to be rude, cynical and quite arrogant. But this was obviously more than a general dislike on Sara's part.
Arnold watched Max carefully. He couldn't tell by his expression just exactly what the other man was thinking, or how he'd react.
Meanwhile, Sara's chocolate brown eyes burned intensely. "You killed him."
It was not a question.
Max looked at her squarely. "Nice to see you too." He muttered, wiping blood from his nose.
"That's all you have to say? Jeremy's dead and that's all you can say!"
Jeremy, Arnold thought, who the heck is Jeremy.
"It wasn't my fault!" Max protested.
"Like hell is wasn't!"
Her word choice shocked more people than Arnold.
"He's dead because of you!"
"I didn't kill anybody!" Max shouted furiously, looking ready to hit her back.
Sara suddenly ceased her barrage of charges against him, but it wasn't because she feared his returned anger. Suddenly there was a reserve in her countenance, the heated energy draining from her in a mere instant. At some point, tears had begun to flow down her face.
"You'll never change, will you?"
Max said nothing, but continued to stare her down as if by sheer intimidation he could drive her accusations away.
"I hate you." Sara's voice was barely above a whisper. Arnold was certain that only the three of them had heard it. There was a very slight shift in Max's countenance, but nothing that was noticed by anyone standing there.
Then Sara quietly walked away.
The two men left standing there were quiet for a long time. Arnold wanted to ask Max what that had been all about, but perhaps Max wasn't the person to ask. Arnold wasn't sure that he wanted to hear whatever side of the story Max had to share. He and Sara obviously had a history. Was it one Arnold wanted to dig up?
"You know Sara?" He asked.
Max nodded, obviously feeling no need to elaborate.
"Anyone else have a personal grudge against you that I should know about so you can avoid future nose bleeds?"
"Not that I know of." Max muttered darkly.
Arnold nodded and walked away.
Arnold could hear her coughing as he pulled back the curtain and walked into the clinic area. For the past couple of hours, he had pretty much put the incident out of his mind. Very little had been able to dominate his thoughts over the past week except one thing, Helga.
Dr. Brandon had set up another curtain at the end of the alcove to separate all the consumption patients from anyone else in the hospital, even though he was pretty certain it wasn't contagious. The separation was mainly to keep people calm and make sure the sickness didn't scare people away who might need medical attention.
Arnold made his way across the room and through the next curtain. Brandon sat beside a small boy who lay on one of the cots. He looked up as Arnold came in and tipped his head, but didn't say anything. Arnold acknowledged the greeting and continued on to Helga's bed. He sat down beside her and touched her shoulder gently. She stirred and opened her eyes, her tired gaze catching sight of him instantly.
"Hey." He said, keeping his voice low and soft. She smiled at him weakly, and he smiled back.
"How're you feeling?"
"Ok."
"How's your arm?"
"Broken." She said bluntly. Arnold was sure she had let out a little laugh at her own playful remark, but it was replaced by coughing so suddenly that even the smallest bit is laughter had no chance to escape. He waited patiently for it to subside. When it did, Helga lay still for a moment taking in long, even breaths through her nose.
Arnold, who'd leaned back slightly when the fit began, now leaned foreword again and placed his hand back on her shoulder affectionately.
Though Dr. Brandon was doing all he could, Helga seemed to be growing steadily worse. The same went for all the others. One or two older kids, both boys, had managed to recover, but that wasn't enough to ease Arnold's concern.
