PART TWO
POET
CHAPTER 9
XANDER
I’m dying,” the patient tells me. He opens his eyes. “It’s not very hard.”
“You’re not dying,” I assure him, taking a cure from my case. I’ve seen more and more of this as the weeks go on. People know the symptoms of the Plague now and they often come in before they go down. “And this red? It’s the color of the tube, not the cure. It will start working soon.” He’s old, and when I reach out to pat his hand, the skin feels very fragile. In the Society he could have expected to die in the next few years. Now, who knows? Maybe he’s got plenty of time left. All we have to do is get him through this Plague.
“You promise,” he says, looking right at me. “You give me your word as a physic.”
I promise.
I hook up a vital-stats machine to him so that we’ll be alerted if his heart stops beating or if he quits breathing. Then I move on to the next patient. We’re keeping up, but it takes every minute of every shift.
The outbreak of the Plague happened sooner than the Rising had anticipated. Overall, the takeover of the Society has gone well, but it hasn’t been perfect. People have accepted the Rising because they want the cure. We’ve got their loyalty, for now. But there are still Society sympathizers and those who are just plain scared of what’s happening. They don’t trust anyone. That’s what we’re trying to change. The more people who come in sick and go out cured, the better. Then everyone can see that we’re here to help.
“Carrow.” The head physic’s voice comes across my miniport. “We have a new group assembling in the conference hall for their welcome speech.”
“Of course,” I say. This is another part of my job. “I’ll come right away.”
I nod to the nurses on duty on my way out the door. Once I finish the speech, my shift’s over, so I won’t come back here tonight unless there’s an emergency. “See you tomorrow,” I say to them.
I fall into step with the others walking to the conference room. I haven’t gone far when I hear someone say my name: “Carrow.” There’s a crowd of people in black pressing down the hall, and it takes me a second to figure out who called to me, but then I see her.
“Official Lei,” I say, before I remember that it’s just Lei now. The Rising’s done away with titles. We only use last names. The last time I saw her was almost two months ago, back when the Plague first came and she was stuck in quarantine. She couldn’t have been in for long—the Rising let everyone in the cells go home as soon as the Boroughs and Cities were secure. But I still walked away and left her there.
“I’m sorry—” I begin, but she shakes her head.
“You did what you needed to do,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I say. “Especially here. Does this mean you’ve joined the Rising?”
“I have,” she says, “but I’m afraid I need your help to stay here.”
“Of course. What can I do?”
“I was hoping you would vouch for me,” she says. “If you don’t, I can’t stay.”
Each member of the Rising is only allowed to vouch for three other people. Obviously we want everyone to join eventually, but right now we’ve got to be careful. Vouching for someone isn’t something you can take lightly. I’ve always assumed that my three people would be my parents and Cassia, if she needed it, in case I was wrong about her being in the Rising.
If someone that you vouch for turns out to be a traitor, you’ll be investigated right along with them. So: how much do I trust Lei?
I’m about to ask Lei if there’s anyone else she can ask, but something about the tightness around her mouth and the way she stands—her posture even more perfect than usual—makes me realize that no, there isn’t. She doesn’t look away. I’d forgotten how we’re almost exactly the same height.
“Of course,” I say. I’ll still have two people left. If something happens and I was wrong about Cassia, my brother, Tannen, can vouch for one of our parents. He’s probably planning on it anyway. Not for the first time, I wish I’d had a chance to talk to him about the Rising.
Lei puts her hand on my arm, very briefly. “Thank you,” she says. Her voice sounds lovely and sincere, and a little surprised. She didn’t think I’d do it.
“You’re welcome,” I say.
“If you’re here,” I tell the new workers, “it means that you’ve met the three main qualifications required to work in the medical center. First, you have medical training. Second, you’re safe, because you either contracted the Plague immediately and have since been cured, or you received an immunization when you applied to return to work. Third, you’ve joined the Rising.”
I pause and let the silence settle before I begin again.
“You are now a part of this rebellion. You might not have known the Rising existed until you heard the Pilot speak, or you may have only come to believe in the Rising now that you’ve seen our cure, or because you want our immunity. We don’t hold that against you, of course. We’re grateful for your assistance. Our immediate goal is to save people from the Plague.”
I smile out at them, and almost everyone smiles in return. They’re glad to be back at work and part of the solution. Some of them look downright eager.
Then a woman calls out, “If that’s true, then why didn’t you—I mean we—immunize everyone before they got sick? Why wait until they need the cure?”
One of the Rising officers at the back moves forward, but I hold up my hand. The Rising has given me all the information I need to field a question like this. And it’s a good question.
“Why didn’t we stockpile immunizations as well as cures?” I ask. “That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she says. “It would be easier and more efficient to keep people from getting sick in the first place.”
“The Rising had limited resources,” I say. “We decided that focusing on the cure was the best use for those resources. There was no way to warn the public about the possibility of the Plague before it happened without causing panic. And the Rising didn’t want to immunize you without your permission. We’re not the Society.”