“So, what now?” Dean asked when his father had finished.
“Round up the others. I’ve got to find Gloria and Tammy. We need to get the plan into place so we all know what we’re doing.” He looked up at the sky. Twilight was fast turning into night. “The dark will help us, if we can move in the next hour or two, then we can reach the redoubt and get in before sunrise, which’ll give us better cover. But we’ll have to move it.”
“Leave it to me,” Dean said. “If J.B. and Mildred stay here, I’ll find Jak, Doc and Krysty. I figure I know where they may be, anyway.”
“Okay,” Ryan said grimly. “Let’s go to it. There’s no time to lose.”
While the one-eyed man headed off to the area where the Gate appeared to be gathered, Dean headed toward the hospital. Along the way, he detoured toward the barn where the two wheel drive tractors had been found. The barn was on the edge of town, and was silent and dark as he approached. But he had a notion that he would find Jak still there, as the albino hadn’t returned with the salvaged tires.
Dean approached openly, using what little light there was so that Jak would be able to see him and not mistake him for an attacker. At all times, the albino was always on the defensive.
“Jak, you there?” he called softly as he reached the open doors of the barn. There was no answer, and as he peered into the darkness, it was impossible to make out any shapes within. “Jak?” he repeated a little louder.
A white wraith, like a shadow in negative, rose from the recesses at the back of the barn.
“Dean? What want?” Jak’s voice was small, like one roused from sleep. At the same time, he sounded weary.
“We’re meeting to plan the attack. Got to round up Doc and Krysty, too, but I figured I’d find you here.”
“Why?” Jak was still at the back of the barn, moving slowly as he dressed.
Dean shrugged. “Figured you’d need some rest, and mebbe you’d find the quietest place.”
“Figure right,” Jak replied, moving forward, now fully dressed. “Tired easily. Pox eating me. Clothes hurt on skin, needed to let it breathe. Mebbe try relax totally. Need quiet for that.”
“Damn—sorry I had to disturb you,” Dean said, the concern in his voice showing as Jak came out into the twilight. His white hair and pale skin seemed—if it were possible—to be more ashen than usual.
“Okay.” Jak shrugged. “Need rest but know no time left. We need move. What now?”
“Now we get Krysty and Doc, and I’m pretty sure I know where they are.”
“Then let’s go,” Jak replied, setting his suddenly frail frame to move onward. “Where?”
“I figure the med building. Mebbe they’ll get an idea of how bad the disease is spreading.”
Without bothering to answer, Jak nodded and joined Dean as they moved back in toward the center of the ville.
The closer they got to the center, the louder the hum of activity and the more bodies could be seen swarming around, looking busy. But there was one oasis of complete calm and silence—almost, it seemed, deliberately and completely ignored. It was toward this oasis that they headed, for it was here that the med building was located.
“Really funny how everyone’s avoiding this part of the ville,” Dean commented with some sarcasm as they approached.
“Not really,” Jak replied, ignoring the wit as he thought of his own reasons for wanting to block out the idea of the pox.
Dean said nothing more. They covered the last few yards in silence, and Dean carefully opened the door, making as little noise as possible.
As he and Jak entered, he was taken aback at how the building had changed since the last time he had set foot in it. Before, Hector had managed, with the help of his workers, to keep the small block clean and fresh smelling, even though it was beginning to become overcrowded.
Now, it was bedlam. The smell of the charnel house permeated the air, cutting through even the few measures that he had the time to take against the odor of chilling and decay. Every bed was full, and there were pallets in every available space, each with its own patient slowly fading. It was quiet within the four walls, but not silent. Low groans of agony, the murmurs of delirium, and the hushed talk of those who were still aware and of the ville healer himself mixed together in a low level burble of anguished sound.