Plague #OpenNovellaContest 2019

Chapter 18

Ethan stands outside Rachel's cell. For the last few weeks, she's taken a shot of the cure every morning, and it's working.

She's calmer, less desperate, and she doesn't resist when they inject the cure.

Right now, she's asleep, she's curled up on the mattress against the wall, and she's shaking. But at least she doesn't cry anymore. Ethan watches her and he wants to do something, or say something. He can't, though, because she still isn't responding to words.

She looks so weak, when she's always been so strong. Her bushy hair has fallen out of her ponytail and into her face, and her clothes are ragged and torn. The workers hired by Evie and him don't dare get close enough to change her into the hospital clothes, or to tend to her cuts and wounds or clean her or do anything other than the complete necessary. He doesn't blame them, though. He doesn't want to get close to her himself.

He hears the sound of the medication cart rolling towards him. When he turns, he sees Mike, the head doctor, at the lead with two others surrounding him.

"Hey," Mike says, nodding to Ethan, "Is she doing any better?"

Ethan nods, "Yeah. I think... I think it's working," he lets hope rise into his voice, "Actually, if the plans go right... she'll be fine in a couple of months."

Mike nods and pulls the medicine out of a drawer in the cart, "K. I'm going in."

_______________________________________

"Hello?"

A woman's voice comes from the other side of the phone.

Ethan braces himself, leaning against the wall of his room. The place is small, but comfortable and full of things that only the wealthiest have the privilege to own. Antique tables, cloth armchairs, perfectly fluffed pillows, white bread.

He lets himself sink into an armchair, holding the telephone to his ear. As he hears the woman's high, unsure voice say 'hello', he almost hopes he got the number wrong.

"Hello," Ethan replies, "This is the palace of Achain calling," he hears a sharp intake of breath from the woman, "Is this the home of Robert and Claire Davidson?"

The woman's breathing is getting quicker, "Yes. This is us. Can I... Can I put you on hold? I need to get my husband," the line goes dead, and Ethan sighs, rubbing his forehead.

How is he going to tell Rachel's parents that their child is a Red? How is he supposed to tell them that their daughter's life is in danger? That she is taking medication, but there is a chance that it won't work? He has to mention the cure first, somehow. He doesn't want to panic them with the first sentence that he says. This is horrible. Why can't Evie handle these things?

"Ok," the woman's voice comes back, "We're both here now. What were you going to say?"

She seems to have calmed herself down, gotten over the shock of the moment and come back to her senses.

Ethan forces his mouth to open, "It's about your daughter."

Silence.

"I understand that she disappeared a few years ago."

The phone must be on loudspeaker because a few seconds after Ethan speaks, a man's voice says, "The police said she ran away."

"Well... we found her. And she... she has the plague," for a moment, Ethan panics. He knows that the silence on the other side of the line means so much more than it usually would. He can hear the quick, desperate breaths and the silent terror. The cover that they had up moments before, the calm, controlled voices and the even breathing? It's gone now, disappeared to a wave of fear and horror. He considers telling them that she is on a road to recovery, just to cheer them up. He considers saying that by the end of the month she will be back to her normal self. Despite the part of him that longs to say those words, to help them, he can't. He doesn't want to give them false hope. Doesn't want to tell them something when he isn't sure of it himself, "We've developed a cure," he finally decides on, "We aren't sure if it works yet, but so far, Rachel is getting better."

When they don't reply, Ethan adds, "You can... visit. If you want. You won't be able to enter the cell because the plague is contagious, but you can talk to her through the glass. And if you want to, you can stay in a guest room in the palace for as long as you want, while Rachel recovers."

Or doesn't recover, he was planning to add, to make sure that they didn't get their hopes up, but he can't bring himself to say it. He listens to the sound of muffled speaking and creaking floorboards from the other side of the phone. From the few words that he can hear, it sounds like they're packing to come. Already. Ethan digs his fingernails into his palm. The wait for their answer is killing him.

"It might help her," he adds, "To have someone that she really knows there. And even if it doesn't help medically, she'd definitely be happier with you there."

There's a soft sound from the other side of the phone. It sounds like a voice. It's soft and shaking.

Was that a sob? A word? How is he supposed to react to it? What will offend them or make them uncomfortable?

"Sorry," Ethan says, "I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"

He sits for a moment with the phone held to his ear and his fingernails, once again, digging into the soft skin of his palm.

The woman's voice comes again. It's stronger, this time. And it's deep and filled with so much emotion that Ethan feels the woman's determination and fear as it enters him, calm and certain.

Claire Davidson, Rachel's mother, takes a deep breath and says two words. She says, "We're coming."

Ethan closes his eyes and lets the phone drop out of his hand. Despite how he convinced her parents that Rachel would appreciate their visit, he has no idea whatsoever of how she's going to react.