White and Other Tales of Ruin

“Jade, I saw …” I begin, but though I remember espying something terrible, I cannot recall exactly what it was.

“Keep still,” she says, a quiver in her voice, “just lie still. The Sickness almost had you. String gave you the cure. Rubbed it on your chest, your temples, your throat. He thought you might have been too far gone, so he fed you some of it as well.”

“Fed me?”

Jade shrugs apologetically. “A tube, into your stomach. You’ll have a sore throat for a while. You were wandering around in the fruit plantation when I found you, mumbling, calling a woman’s name. You looked like the walking dead.”

Memories begin to force their way into the light. With them come terrible images, and an awful realisation that turns me cold.

“Jade, I saw bodies, hundreds of bodies. They’re using them, storing them.” I am whispering, but as soon as I begin String appears above me again, his hand lowering towards my face. I cry out, certain that he is going to silence me forever, but Jade is holding me down as String places his hand on my forehead. His skin is cool and clammy.

“He’s burning up. It’s a fight, now, between the Sickness and the cure. I hope I got him in time, but sometimes it’s a matter of will. The cure is just the catalyst.”

Faintness clouds my vision, but I bite my lip and try to stay conscious. I have to tell Jade, warn her, make her get away from this place.

“Will you tell him?” I hear her ask. I can imagine her expression, distant and worried, just as she looked when there was more bad stuff for me to know.

“Not yet.” String replies. “Later, when he’s better. Not now.”

“I think he saw something,” Jade whispers.

I sense String looking down at me. “I’ll have words with Tiarnan. Stay with him, Jade. He’s got a fight on his hands.” Footsteps recede into the distance. All I can see is the unremitting greyness above me. “If you need me, ask someone to find me. I have some work to do.”

Jade bends over me again, softly telling me to be quiet, conserve my strength. And although I have some things to tell her, my body forces me to obey her. I drift once more into welcoming unconsciousness.

VIII

I feel different. Lighter. As if a weight, both physical and mental, has been lifted from me.

I sit up. I am still in the tent, but alone. The flap moves softly in the breeze.

Again, I wonder whether I’m dreaming. But the bed beneath me, hard and slightly bowed in the centre, feels solid. The air smells good, laden with the scents of cooking. I have a burning thirst and a sore throat. That’s where they put the tube in.

“Jade!” I can hear nothing from outside. Inside I feel changed. I suddenly realise what is different.

I lift the rough cloth shirt I am wearing and look at my chest. The growths are crusted black with leaked blood, looking like shrivelled mushrooms sprouting from dead flesh. But I am not dead. It is the Sickness that is no more, stumped in its tracks, driven from within to shows itself as a crispy, rotten mess on the outside. Displaying its true nature.

Tentatively I lift my hand, suddenly desperate to touch myself there but aware of the pain which will inevitably come with the contact.

“Go on,” Jade says from the entrance. “It’s all right. Touch it. See what happens.”

I look up, all wide eyed and scared. Jade is smiling and the expression suits her. I touch one of the growths with my fingertips, barely brushing it. It feels hard and dry, like an over-cooked sausage. There is no pain, no sensation of contact at all. I touch it again and jump as it falls off and tumbles to the ground. Lying in the dust, it looks like nothing.

Beneath the old growth there is a flash of bright pink skin. New skin.

“It’ll fade to white,” Jade says, moving towards me, tears in her eyes. “What did I tell you? Isn’t he something?”

“I feel different,” I say.

“You’re better. I remember the feeling. You’re just not used to being healthy. It’s cleaned your blood, driven out all the bad stuff. You’re cured, Gabe.” She runs her hand across my chest and the growths come off, sprinkling into my lap and onto the floor like a shower of black hailstones. All I feel is a slight resistance, a tugging at my chest. “You’re beautiful.”

I reach out for her and hold her close, crying, feeling happy and sad and scared all at the same time. “Jade, I saw something terrible.”

She pulls away. “The bodies?”

I nod, struck dumb with surprise.

“Gabe …” Jade looks away, avoiding my eyes, and I terrify myself by laughing. It reminds me of the soft laugh of Tiarnan’s partner as he dropped the body, but that only makes it harder to stop. I want to hate myself but find I can’t.

“Is this really the last thing, Jade?” I ask through tears of mixed emotion. “Is there anything else after this? Whatever it is I’m going to be told, or see, now?”

She looks at me nervously, shaking her head. “This is just about the biggest, Gabe.”