Mildred nodded. “Okay. Just trust us on this. Before the nukecaust, there was a disease that wiped out vast populations. It was a virus that was transmitted through contact, and it had symptoms very similar to these. They managed to eradicate it, and I’ve never heard of anything quite like it occurring during our travels. But this…this looks very like it. It’s fast, nasty and fatal.”
“What can we do about it?” Krysty asked.
“Without a vaccine or antidote, and not knowing anyway if this strain has become mutie in any way…”
Mildred shook her head. “There isn’t anything that we can do.”
“Fuck! What is this thing?” Hector asked, a mixture of fear and helplessness grabbing at him.
Doc spoke quietly. “They used to call it smallpox.”
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, while Mildred, Doc and Krysty set to work trying to contain the outbreak of the disease and keep it confined—and also trying to avoid spreading panic—Dean and Jak set to work on the small patches of cultivated scrub that were on the outskirts of the ville.
The stunted vegetables and fruits that were grown there were stored and dried as reserve stock, and also used to ferment the alcohol that was sold in the ville’s bars. The rich loam should have yielded strong, healthy crops, but somehow there had been a genetic mutation to all the crops in the area, and the farming was hard.
It was the time of year when the soil had to be tilled and the next year’s crop sown. It was hard work. The farm crew had allotted Jak and Dean a horse and plow, along with the seed that needed to be sown along the trenches. There was little chance for them to interact or get to know their fellow workers, as only a handful of the ville’s inhabitants worked on the farmland, and those that did were spread about the fields, too far apart to converse.
So it was down to the albino and the young Cawdor to prove themselves by work.
“This not good,” Jak remarked, patting the bony flanks of the horse they had been given. The creature looked old, and although not starved, it seemed to be all bone and little muscle. The pitted and scarred, time-rusted plow that they had to attach to the beast seemed too heavy for it to manage.
Dean looked at the expanse of field they had to till.
“Well, we’ve got to get it done, Jak,” he said simply. “So we’ll just have to work out a way.”
They harnessed the horse, and Jak went to the head and began to lead.
The plow stuck in the rich, thick soil. It began to turn, but was so damp and firm that the plow became bogged down, stuck in the grip of the earth. Jak whispered in the horse’s ear, and the creature began to respond, pulling harder against the resistance of the earth. Dean followed behind, scattering the seed into the earth before it began to close again.
“Hot pipe!” he whispered to himself, then called to Jak to join him. When the albino left the horse and arrived at his side, Dean indicated the closing earth, and the level earth to their rear where there should have been a trench. “Have you ever seen anything like that?” he said.
The albino shook his head. “Like earth living. No wonder horse find it hard.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “and I don’t know about you, but I don’t reckon that it’ll get the whole field done.”
Jak looked at the already tired and weak beast, then at the expanse of field they hadn’t yet covered. He shook his head.
“Only one way,” he said simply.
And so the farmhands in neighboring fields, who had deliberately given the young men the weakest of the beasts as a trial, stopped and watched in amazement as Jak harnessed himself to the plow alongside the horse, and began to help drag it across the field, cutting a furrow that Dean followed, sewing the seeds as he went.
About halfway across the field, the two young men changed places to spread the work. Jak followed the plow as Dean helped to pull.