“She’s my daughter. I’ll protect her at all costs. No matter what.”
Tim nodded. He knocked back the last of his wine, then said, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“All right.”
“I want you to tell me how Kathy died.”
“I thought I already did.”
“You said she grew weak until she just expired. But I’d like to know what was her actual cause of death.”
“I don’t understand,” David said.
“What’d she die from, David? I want you to tell me.”
David looked down at the table, then turned so that he stared down the darkened hallway that came off the kitchen. The light over the sink was causing the windows to fill up with bugs. He thought of—
(bring the heater closer, would you, honey? it’s so cold in here)
—the insectoid monsters from his dream again. His whole body began to tremble.
“After I spoke with you on the phone,” Tim said, “I Googled your names. I found the newspaper articles. They all said she committed—”
“Don’t,” David said, shaking his head. “Don’t say it.”
“I love you guys. You and Ellie. Kathy, too. And I’m here to help. Whatever you need, David. I just want to know what really happened. You were there. I just want you to tell me.”
His skin felt hot.
“David,” Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper. One of his big hands slid across the table, his palm up. Without thinking about it, David reached out and grabbed his brother’s hand. Squeezed it.
“I’ll tell you,” David said, his eyes welling with tears. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
And he did.
57
Six days earlier
They kept her in a white room with a single window that looked out on a gray parking lot. She was in bed with a starched white sheet draped over her thin frame. The air was rank with medicinal smells and industrial cleaners. It made David’s eyes burn each time he walked into the room.
“How’s Ellie?” Kathy’s voice was a sandpapery rasp. The whites of her eyes had turned a chalky gray.
“She misses you.”
Kathy glanced down at the stuffed elephant propped next to her in bed.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he said. “We’re not doing this anymore. I’ve already spoken to Kapoor. You can leave with me tonight.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, David,” she said.
He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her hair was dry and brittle, and he imagined that if he’d wanted, he could snap that strand right in half like uncooked spaghetti.
“Tell me why,” he said. “You gave it your best shot, but now we’ve got to get on with our own lives. You’ve got a little girl at home who misses you very much.”
Something akin to a smile came over her face, stretching out her thin lips and protruding cheekbones. “I’m so scared for her. I’m scared that I’ve got something and I might be bringing it back home to her.”
“You’re not sick, Kath. You don’t have the Folly. And Ellie’s immune, anyway.” He’d told her this a few days ago, when Dr. Kapoor had notified him regarding the results of their blood tests. Kathy had been elated, had broken out into tears . . . but now there was a different emotion in her eyes. Something darker.
“When I got here, I was immune, too,” Kathy said. “But maybe all that has changed. My body isn’t the same since I’ve gotten here. I feel off, David. What if something in this place has changed me? What if I bring that same thing home to Ellie? What if I’m carrying the thing that will hurt her?”
“I think you’re overthinking this.”
“No one knows anything about this disease, David. Don’t tell me I’m overthinking things. She’s my daughter.”
“Yes,” he said. “And she wants her mother back. I want you back, too, Kath.”
Her hands smoothed out the bedsheet, her knuckles sharp and craggy, her fingers too damn thin.
“I had a dream last night where I came home with you, David, and Ellie was so happy that she hugged me and kissed me and wouldn’t leave me be. And she crawled into bed with us and the three of us slept together like we did when she was a baby.”
He smiled at the thought.
Then Kathy’s face grew grim.
“And when I woke up,” she said, “you were dead. And Ellie was dead. And you were both . . . stiff and gray and dead . . . because I brought something out of this place and carried it home to you. Poisoned you both. Killed you both.”
He reached out and took one of her hands. Squeezed it gently. He felt the bones roll beneath the skin.
“Come home with me,” he said. “Let’s be a family again.”
It seemed like she looked at him, smiling in an emaciated way that made the corners of her mouth protrude, for an unmeasurable amount of time.
“Please, baby,” he said.
Kathy’s face softened. “Yes,” she said finally. Tears stood out in her eyes. “All right. Let’s go home together.”