Fountain of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

a pistol.” Catherine patted her shoulder and then looked down at her empty coffee cup. “It’s been ten years, and I still can’t find good coffee.” Catherine sighed and chewed absently on her thumb nail. “That bastard in Boston lives like a king and I can’t get coffee.”
    Micah watched the scene through thin curtains from his and Sharon’s house. He kept the lights off. Upstairs he heard his mother walking to her room. For a moment he thought about sketching the scene, Catherine and Meredith in the dying firelight. He’d never be able to capture it properly with only black charcoals. He shifted in his chair to see Beverly headed to the shed with the stranger walking ahead of her.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Beverly opened the green canvas flaps that covered the shed and unlocked the doors; she held her arm out, and Pierce walked inside. The shed was between two houses, Frank’s and Lily’s. She flipped on the overhead light and went over to a table. “Sit down on that stool and take off the lab coat.”
    Pierce slid it off his shoulders.  “Can you burn that?”
    Beverly went to the stool and stood over Pierce. She picked the coat up with a stick and stuffed it into the wood stove. Lifting his arm, she examined each of the scars. Some were “fresher” than others, maybe within a week. Others looked like old, old scars. Then she poked the tender flesh with the tip of a pencil and did the same with Pierce’s other arm. The newer bites were surrounded by bruised and mottled purple flesh. Nothing oozed or bled. His fingernails were yellowed and caked with dirt.
    “I can’t believe you weren’t infected,” Beverly said.
    “I have the cure and I hope that I can convince you all,” Pierce answered.
    “Are you bitten anywhere else?”
    “Just the arms. I’ve been lucky.”
    “Convince Catherine.”
    “Is she like the mayor or something?”
    “Something like that.” Beverly rubbed her eyes and Pierce lowered his arms. “You have some scratches on your back and legs; I could bandage those up if you want, they’re not serious.” He stood and stretched, his joints cracked and he almost fell over when his knees popped.
    “You know, I’ve come a long way to find anyone, anyone at all who would listen.”
    “Catherine will listen you just need to go slow. You’ll have to excuse us if we’re a little suspect.”
    Pierce stifled a yawn and jumped back when Frank came out of the corner with a drawn pistol.
    “I think you’ve told him enough, Beverly,” Frank said coming out of the shadows.
    Beverly spun at the voice. “How long have you been there?” The lab coat flared in the stove.
    “The whole time. You think Catherine would leave you alone in here with this lunatic?”
    “All things considered my new friends,” Pierce said. “Is there someplace I could sleep? You can torture and interrogate me in the morning.” Frank took a step forward pressing the pistol barrel against Pierce’s forehead.
    “We need to keep your strength up. After breakfast we have a pile of corpses to move. And we’re not your friends.”
    “Why after breakfast?”
    “Because Catherine told me to move corpses with you and I hate the dry heaves. I’d much rather puke something up when it happens.” Frank holstered his pistol and left the medical shed. They watched him walk to the fire and sit next to Meredith.
    “You can sleep on the floor in here,” Beverly said. There’s a spare blanket on the table over there and a few logs left in the basket for the stove.” Beverly reached for the light switch.
    “If I may ask, what’s your training?”
    “I was a high school nurse.”
    “So that means...”
    “That means I’m the only one in camp who can sew you up. So don’t annoy me with the questions.” Beverly heard the whispers of the “quiet talk” around the fire.
    “Aren’t you worried I’m going to get to your supplies and run off?” Pierce said and sat on the floor, his back against the side wall.