The Cloud Atlas

Gurley had begun to growl after Lily spoke, and now reached a roar. “She means me, you idiot!” He and Lily exchanged a long, silent look. Lily finally broke away and knelt down before the boy.

“Fuck!” Gurley shrieked, and I really mean shrieked-a high, piercing, birdlike noise. He tottered over to the boy and stood over him. “You don't know how lucky you are, young man,” he said, in English. “You've found yourself in the clutches of two-no, three-fools.” Gurley struggled into a crouch. “So here is our deal: if you survive till morning, off we all go to Bethel to face God knows what repercussions.” Gurley then turned to us; the boy turned his head, too. “And if he does survive, that will be evidence indeed of magic. Pretty damn strong magic.”

Lily looked at me. “Stay with him,” she said, and I wasn't sure if she meant the boy or Gurley. “I'm going to get some things from the boat.”

“That's cheating,” Gurley called after as she walked. “I want to see magic alone get him through the night.” Lily raised an arm and waved off Gurley's words. It actually relieved the tension a bit; her weary wave seemed less the act of a mortal enemy than a long-suffering but indulgent spouse.

But Gurley quickly ended the respite. “It's been nice knowing you, Sergeant,” he said, staring after her.

“Sir,” I said, not meeting his eyes. I was busy looking for his hands, his gun.

“I know you think it heartless. Or I think you do. I know Lily does. But leaving the boy here, yes, killing him, would spare everyone a lot of misery.”

“Sir,” I said, not sure if he still had a mind you could reason with, or if I was better off just leaping on him, and sparing everyone a lot of misery. “Just wait. She'll surprise you. I bet he'll surprise you. Kids are-”

“He's already surprised me,” said Gurley. “He flew across the fucking ocean. And that's not all. Come.” Gurley went to the boy, knelt, and then roughly tore open his coveralls. The boy fought him weakly. When he started to cry out, Gurley raised a hand as if to hit him, and looked to see if Lily had heard. She hadn't. The boy went silent with fear and looked to me for help. I screwed up what courage I could and stepped next to Gurley. But before I could lay a hand on him, he spoke: “Surprise,” he said.

I looked down. The boy's exposed chest and stomach were a mottled purple. The skin just above his collarbone was raw and red. I knew what Gurley was doing; he was diagnosing plague. “I saw it when I was working on the crash site,” Gurley said, and stood. “I didn't look in the groin area yet, but I don't have to. You've got lymph nodes here, too,” he said, fingering his neck. “You see why we have to get out of here? They sent the best germ weapon container possible: a human. A human rat. Which means he was dying anyway. Hell, he's lost enough blood he may not even survive long enough to die of plague. But we've got to get back. Get away from him. So we got a vaccine: like the major said, What if this is a new strain?”

I didn't know. I didn't know enough about plague or enough about how much Gurley knew about medicine to know if he was lying The boy looked ill, but he'd just come across the Pacific in an open balloon. The rash on his neck could have been from the coveralls. Where were the blown lymph nodes, the buboes? I saw Gurley glance back toward the boat. Lily was walking back toward us.

“You've got to tell her, Belk,” he said. “She's not listening to me right now.”

“Sir, I don't think-”

“Redo the math, son,” Gurley said. “You thought you were just risking the boy's life when you sided with her before. Now you're risking yours. And mine. And hers.” I didn't answer. I just stared at the boy then at Lily. When she finally reached us, she gave Gurley a look that caused him to rethink whatever he was about to say and stalk off instead. He looked back just once, and then loped away, hands flying about, swatting mosquitoes.

Lily turned to me. I hadn't had enough time to decide what to say or how. But Lily didn't wait for me to speak. “Louis,” she said, and we both looked down at our very ill charge. “Can you pick him up?”

CHAPTER 19

I TOOK A BREATH, I KNELT, I LIFTED HIM UP. AND THEN I carried the boy back to the spot where we'd beached the boat. It was a longer trip than we thought-I'd estimate a mile, but trudging through the tundra was such slow going, it could have been ten. The mosquitoes clotted around his open wounds like shifting scabs.

Lily and I eventually decided the best thing was to undo the mess of bandages Gurley had applied and apply a proper tourniquet, or as proper a one as we could manage. We also resplinted the arm and bound it to his side to immobilize it completely. But we only came to these decisions gradually, after several painful false starts. The boy's screams grew louder and louder. Several times I found myself wondering if Gurley was right: it would be better if the boy had died, or could die, quickly.