It looked as though the ville women who had previously aided the healer had either succumbed or opted out of helping, as he seemed to be coping almost by himself. The only assistance he had right now was that of Doc and Krysty, who were doing their best to fill the breach, even though the old man himself had begun the first stages of the disease.
“Shit,” Jak whispered softly to himself, getting an unwelcome picture of what was ahead.
His distinctive voice cut through the burble and caused both Krysty and Doc to turn and face the door.
“My dear lad,” Doc began, “are you here to assist, or because you yourself have taken a turn for the worse?”
Jak didn’t answer—seemingly didn’t hear—as he surveyed the carnage spread across the beds and floor space of the med building. But Dean was quick to reply.
“I’ve come to round you all up—found Jak, now you two. We’re going to get the plan of action.”
“We’re ready to move already?” Krysty asked, not looking up from the patient she was tending.
“The Gate are assembling, and we’re all getting a full briefing.”
Krysty smiled crookedly, and said wryly, “Probably the sort of language those coldhearts use about planning a fight.”
“Yeah, but if we’re gonna best them, then what better way to think of it?” Dean replied.
Krysty turned to Hector. “Reckon you’ll be able to cope until we get back?”
“You think you will?” Hector looked at her, his eyes deep into his head, shot through with red and lined with black and discolored skin. He had the initial stages of the disease, and was still working himself harder than his sick body could cope. He knew that his time was limited, but he was determined not to give in to the pox until he had no choice.
Krysty shook her head. “Mebbe, mebbe not. I don’t want to give you a false hope. All I know is that we’ll fight to the last one of us to try and get out of there with the antidote, and with any disease they have in there completely destroyed. Because if we don’t, then we’re all chilled anyway.”
Hector’s face creased into something that may once have been a smile, but in his weariness and illness came out as more of a grimace. “Well, if you’re going to do that, then I guess the least I can do is try and keep it together here until you get back.”
“Good man. Now we’ll have to move,” Krysty replied, bidding him farewell as she and Doc joined Dean and Jak, leaving the hospital and making their way rapidly toward the center of the ville. As they went, Dean explained that the wag was ready, and told them that J.B. and Mildred were waiting while Ryan went in search of Gloria and Tammy.
RYAN CAWDOR WONDERED what Gloria and Tammy had been up to when he had left J.B. and Mildred, heading toward the north end of the drag. After the firefight that had resulted in the chilling of the Illuminated Ones, and it was clear that the battle was over and won, the Gate had massed in the center of the drag, waiting for word from their leader. Gloria had come and surveyed the chilled, and had then disappeared toward her people. They had moved up toward the north end of the drag, and—Ryan assumed—Robertson’s people had taken away the corpses of the Illuminated soldiers when they cleared their own chilled.
It was only when Ryan approached the cluster of Gate people that he realized that something else was going on. He could hear the crackle of flames, and from the center of the group a light began to rise and illuminate the area around, silhouetting the warriors as they stood. There was also a low mumble, like a chant he couldn’t understand.
Ryan pushed his way through the throng, the Gate people giving way easily when they saw who was trying to move through them. The one-eyed man reached the center of the gathering, which had circled around a rapidly built fire. Gloria and Tammy were in the middle, leading the chanting. In front of them lay a pile of corpses. From their pale skin, mixed sex and the tightly cropped hair, Ryan guessed that these must be the corpses of the Illuminated Ones. But where were their uniforms?