The Garden of Darkness

WHEN THEIR NEIGHBORS, the Cormans, boarded up their house and left, Clare, worried, texted Michael, even though he was supposed to be on a camping trip and out of reach of cell service. He didn’t answer. Next she texted Robin, who seemed distracted and upset. There was alarming news on the television about overloaded hospitals and overworked doctors.

One day later, Clare’s friends slowly ceased to answer her texts—except for Robin. Two days later Clare’s phone was refusing to send texts at all, and the landlines were down. Robin bicycled over to Clare’s house since her learner’s permit didn’t allow her to drive alone.

At the time, those things still seemed to matter.

“My parents are in the hospital,” she told Clare. “Can I stay with you?” There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked drawn and grey.

Clare’s father and Marie welcomed her. Robin had spent half her life sleeping over at the house anyway. And, unlike Clare, Robin got along all right with Marie.

“Mom and Pop went to the hospital to get the Cure,” said Robin. “But now people are saying that it isn’t working right. The doctors wouldn’t let me stay.”

In the morning, Clare’s father drove Robin back to the hospital. When they returned, before either of them even spoke, Clare knew that something was very wrong.

“They died in the night,” said Robin.

“Robin.” Clare didn’t know what else to say. She had known Robin’s parents her whole life.

“I should have stayed,” said Robin.

“We’re not going back,” said Clare’s father. “Robin will stay with us for the time being.”

“They’re not releasing their bodies,” Robin said “They said there was too much chance of spreading Pest. There’re lots of dead people in the hospital now: in the corridors, on stretchers by the vending machines.”

“It’s a nest of contagion,” said Clare’s father.

That night they all crouched around the television. They tuned in to Natalie Burton, science analyst for Channel 22—Clare’s favorite channel because of its Law & Order re-runs.

“What was early this week thought to be a cure,” said Natalie, “has proven deadly: most who receive it die; those who do not, become gravely changed; they become what at least one researcher has called ‘inhuman.’ These so-called ‘Cured’ are to be avoided at all cost.

“While mortality rates have been reported to be high, a tiny percentage of children under the age of eighteen show no signs of the full-blown virus—although they carry the Pest rash. When this scourge ends…” (Clare could tell that good old Natalie was winding up to her conclusion) “…they may be left orphaned and alone.” Clare’s father turned off the television.

And so it seemed that she and Robin were among the resilient. Robin showed no signs of Pest; Clare felt perfectly healthy. Only the Pest rash showed that they were infected, too.





WHEN CLARE GOT back to the house from Sander’s Hill, she went into the bedroom where the bodies were. Her father and Marie had been dead for two days. In death, her father stared sightlessly towards the ceiling. Her stepmother lay beside him. Clare wondered how long she could stand to stay in the house with the dead: they didn’t seem like her parents anymore now that they lay there, unmoving, flies taking advantage.

Clare suddenly crossed the room and opened the window, overcome by the smell. She wanted to vomit, and she bent over the sill but then realized that she was leaning out over the flower garden. The zinnias were in full bloom, a vibrant riot of reds and blues, and Clare realized that she didn’t really want to throw up on them.

Her stomach began to settle as she breathed the cooler air of twilight. Night was drawing in, and now the scent of the moonflowers was in the air. The evening light muted the color of the zinnias, but even in the growing darkness, Clare was aware of the garden spread out below her.

The garden wouldn’t last; she couldn’t tend it; the weeds would overcome the flowers.

It was a long time before she turned away.





CHAPTER THREE





PICKING UP PIECES





BEFORE THEIR DEPARTURE to Fallon, the electricity had gone off. No phone. The toilet only flushed if the tank were hand-filled with water, and no water was coming out of the tap. But, Clare remembered, she and Robin had been curiously unafraid.





DEEP IN THE night, after Robin had come to stay, Robin and Clare—long after Clare’s father and Marie were asleep—took to their bicycles. They wore dark clothing and no helmets. Had there been cars on the road, they might have been in danger, but there were no cars.

They coasted down the road. Across the street from the hospital, Robin started to slow down, and Clare almost crashed into her.

“Look at that,” whispered Robin. They left their bicycles and crept as close to the hospital as they could without risking being seen.