The Garden of Darkness

Mirri turned away and toyed with some of the cans, but she didn’t eat any more fruit cocktail. She was smiling to herself, as if Jem had said something particularly reassuring. She obviously liked having Jem in charge.

Clare, meanwhile, was remembering her words to Bear about who was boss. It seemed strange to her now that there had ever been a time when they hadn’t understood each other. She reached down and scratched him on the belly until he wriggled in contentment.

Without electricity, bedtime was early at the farm, as it had been for Clare at the cabin, but here they liked to use the kerosene lantern for an extra half an hour of light. They bolted the door against the night, and then Sarai and Mirri settled down for a game of Old Maid. Jem and Clare sat on the floor in the pool of light shed by the lamp and watched them.

“Whoever thought of the Cure,” said Jem, “has a lot to answer for.”

“At least they tried to stop Pest,” said Clare.

“The Cure,” said Jem with some contempt. “The doctors were just playing around to see what happened.”

“Scientists worked on it, too. And epi—you know, the guys who work on epidemics. They helped develop the Cure.”

“They didn’t really know what they were doing,” said Jem. “Doctors and scientists love messing around with plagues and cures. And where do you think Pest originated, anyway? Have you ever seen 28 Days Later?”

“Your parents never let you see 28 Days Later! My parents wouldn’t let me see 28 Days Later, and I’m fifteen.”

“I was on a sleepover.”

They were both suddenly reminded of how young they really were.

What hope could they have?





CLARE THOUGHT OF the last days of Pest, the screams in the night, the dead in the streets, her sojourns with Robin through Hell. The Cured had seemed to be everywhere in the city. She thought of a kiosk near her house that had carried the enormous sign: ‘If you have any symptoms, see your doctor for the Cure.’ Someone had spray-painted ‘SYLVER’ over it the night before they left the city.

Better to be dead than be a Cured. She thought of her father’s lucid eyes as she brought him a glass of water on the day he died. She wouldn’t wish the Cure on him—or on Marie, either.

Especially Marie.

She wouldn’t have been safe from a Cured Marie.

The kerosene lantern was flickering, casting their shadows high up the walls. Clare looked at Jem’s eyes. In the soft light, they were deep green and fringed with dark lashes like a pond fringed with reeds.

Mirri and Sarai bent over their card game. Clare, taller than Jem, tilted her head towards him as they spoke.

“Do you think the Cured have anything of themselves left?”

“I don’t know,” said Jem. “But something really terrible’s happened to their minds.”

“Maybe they’re psychotic,” said Sarai, looking up from the game. “Jeffrey Dahmer was psychotic. He ate people.”

“The Cured-in-the-blue-dress, even though her mind is gone,” said Jem, “hasn’t tried to hurt any of us. Something about her’s different from the other Cureds. As far as I can tell, the others are all violent.”

“She likes us,” said Mirri.

“I don’t know if the Cured are capable of like,” said Jem seriously.

Then it was time for bed. Mirri’s pajamas had feet and were covered with unicorns and rainbows. Sarai wore sweatpants and a thin T-shirt with ‘American Beauty’ on it.

“I should change the dressing on your wound,” said Jem to Sarai.

“I did it already,” said Sarai. She was clearly proud of herself.

“And I helped her get undressed,” said Mirri. “And I checked the bandage.” Jem and Mirri then started clearing away the tins of fruit cocktail as Sarai curled up on the sofa and watched Clare unpacking more of her things.

Sarai explained to Clare that she, Jem and Mirri all slept in different beds in the same room. Jem looked up and watched Clare as Sarai spoke. When Clare caught his eye, he shrugged his shoulders. Clare felt very unsure of herself.

Sarai broke off and winced, as if in pain.

“Have you taken your antibiotics?” asked Clare.

“Jem already gave them to me. I’m not infected. He said.”

“You have to keep taking them.”

“I know. I actually feel pretty good.” There was a silence. “You’re not sleeping in here alone again, are you?” Sarai asked.

“I suppose Bear will keep me company.”

“I get creeped out alone,” said Sarai. “I don’t know how you did it.”

Clare thought of her night terrors at the cabin, of the heap of cans and the lack of a latrine.

“I didn’t do so well,” she said.

“Well, you’re brave to sleep out here in this room all alone. I’d have nightmares. Actually, I do anyway, but Jem and Mirri are right there.”

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do,” said Clare.

Sarai leaned in close to Clare and whispered, “Alone is scary. I always worry there are things in the shadows. And there’s a bolt on the bedroom door to keep us safe. I wouldn’t sleep out here if I were you.”