The amnesiac leaned back in his seat, abashed. Hemu straightened his white tunic gently until there were no creases where the skirt bent across his lap, slightly embarrassed. The amnesiac could see how young he still was. Just barely a man, in either of their cultures. Behind the walls, the machines whirred softly, recording brain waves.
“Hemu, I’m sorry,” the amnesiac finally said. The story had ultimately gone nowhere, but Hemu was right. Even if there was no lesson, it was worth more than that. The resonances with the strange things happening now, the knowledge that at least there in India, millions of others would remember the same names, the same stories. Dr. Zadeh had asked him to talk with Hemu, to try and connect with him. It was not his job to turn their conversations into scientific evidence. It was just his job to listen. “I’m honored you wanted to tell me Surya’s story. To include me in this giant shared memory. I doubt I would ever have heard it otherwise. If—” He folded his hands. “I don’t think I remember any stories like that to give you.”
“It’s all right,” Hemu said. “Maybe you can remember mine for me when I forget?”
“I hope you don’t forget,” the amnesiac said.
“But you’ll remember them anyway?” Hemu asked.
“Of course. As many as you want to tell me.”
WE SUITED UP THREE OF ELK CLIFFS’S KITCHEN STAFF AND two of the wedding band—the cello and the violin—in makeshift hazmat suits created from trash bags, rubber dishwashing gloves, five sets of goggles that came from who knows where, and as much duct tape as we could gather. The rest of us dug the graves.
You and I made Marion’s with a shovel and a bucket. We were on the far slope of the mountain, on the opposite side from where the resort was built. I didn’t see her again after that last time—once the decision had been made, you held me so I couldn’t run for her. It probably didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have remembered me anyway. I tried not to imagine what it would be like to open four locked doors and shoot five human beings, and then carry their silent, heavy bodies so far. I tried to concentrate on the digging instead. I wasn’t sure I’d ever dug anything so deep before. Halfway through, I couldn’t feel my arms. By the end, I couldn’t feel anything at all.
When it was done, I wanted to lay down in the wet coolness of the earth. The hole was so low that the walls of it cast shade over me. The dank chill on my skin was colder than I had felt in months. I wondered if Marion was the last person in her family to die, or the first.
The sun was setting. You were leaning over the muddy edge, peering down at me sitting in her grave. Slowly you reached down. I took your hand, and you hoisted me out.
“They’re ready to bring them,” was all you said. The bodies.
The fire that night was quiet. No one wanted to ask if we’d done the right thing, because the possibility that we hadn’t was unbearable. You and I sat close together, my arm looped tightly around yours. We all watched the flames.
The next morning, we found Rabbi Levenson dead in the ballroom, propped peacefully against the bottom of the bar counter, an empty bottle of pills in his left hand. Ye-eun’s name was on the label.
His shadow was still there, frozen forever beneath his still form.
Three weeks later, no one else had succumbed to the epidemic.
It rained for a couple of days, and we all moved back inside from the lawn until it stopped. The sun was so bright and clean after that. We moved right back out. That morning, you came and found Paul, Imanuel, and me working in the garden we were trying to start.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to bury them that deep.” Paul pulled half of the dirt I’d pushed over the seeds we’d found while poking around the safe part of the mountain.
“We don’t want them to wash away if it rains,” I argued.
“The monsoons are almost over,” he said. His hair had started to grow out of his haircut, the front now tied up with a rubber band so it didn’t fall in his eyes. I wondered what my own looked like. Probably as large as a cloud over my head. “That won’t happen. Don’t cover them so much.”
“She’s right,” you said, and your shadow rolled over us as you reached the garden. The arms propped themselves on the hips, and it cocked its head the way that you always do. I watched the dark shape for a moment as it lay over the ground, and wondered if I saw it wandering alone if I’d recognize that it was your shadow, or if I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
“Everything okay?” I finally asked you.
Paul stood up and brushed the dirt off his hands against his jeans, and Imanuel copied him. I could tell from the look that passed between the three of you that it wasn’t.
“Guys,” I said.
“Come with me,” you replied. You motioned with your head in the direction of the small creek that ran through the thicker part of the woods. “Just want to talk for a second.” You nodded at Paul and Imanuel. “We’ll be right back.”