Chapter 10: The Man Who Wouldn't Quit

“Are you sure you really want to go through with this?” David asked Betty one last time. Beside them, Monique’s face remained impassive as she prepared the plasma transfer that would infect Betty with the Great Death. Something they all realized could very well kill her. “It’s not too late to back out,” he reemphasized.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve had plenty of time to consider it and it’s something I want. I’d rather live as a social creature, unafraid to interact with other people rather than continuing to live as a hermit terrified of touching anyone.”

“OK, here it goes,” Monique said, pressing the plunger rather than waiting for them to finish debating it.

They’d enjoyed a nice breakfast but it had been awkward, as no one really knew how to respond. They each knew what was about to happen, and they didn’t quite know whether they were encouraging Betty, or saying their final goodbyes. But still, now that they were going forward with it, everyone was in the living room—crowded with equipment—watching what was happening.

“I’ll be here for you,” David said, squeezing her hand. He still felt she had no idea what she was getting herself into. It was hard to describe just how agonizing the process was to someone who hadn’t suffered through it themselves.

“I know, and that’s what I’m counting on,” she replied as she squeezed his hand in return. “But do me a favor; don’t bother with the damn gloves. If I’m going to risk death by doing this, it won’t make any difference, and I don’t want my last memories being separated from my friends by a layer of protective latex.”

David simply smiled and pulled the gloves off, glad to be rid of them himself. Though he knew they were necessary for the others, he still found it distracting having to wear surgical gloves and a face mask in his own house. They’d given up on the face masks, finally convinced their modified version of the viruses weren’t strong enough to be transmitted via the air.

“There, that’s much better,” Betty answered, smiling up at David. As nice as it was seeing her looking so happy it almost broke his heart as she stared up into his eyes, blinking nervously as she reveled in the reassuring calm of his eyes.

As much as she trusted him to protect and watch out for her, David felt conflicted that he was purposefully infecting her with not only one, but a whole series of deadly diseases, any one of which was an almost guaranteed death sentence. They’d gotten lucky in only one instance, and now she trusted that he could carry her across this potential minefield without tripping a single one.

“This will take a little while, and we’ll inject additional doses just after lunch and dinner,” Monique informed her. “We’ll keep it up as long as we can, but that’ll mean we’ll have to restrain you at some point. From what David tells us, patients tend to begin thrashing and shivering violently, which could dislodge the needle. I know that David would rather you have the freedom to move about, but this will allow us to maintain the treatment to see if it lessens either the symptoms or duration of the disease.”

“Do we know how long it’ll be before I get sick?” Betty asked.

“It’s varied over time as the plagues have become more efficient. However, we’ve only encountered people after they’d already developed symptoms. We don’t know how long it’ll take to cover the initial infection process.”

“Mattie got sick pretty quickly after her first transfusion, running a fever and feeling bad almost immediately, and was in serious condition about eight or ten hours later,” David told her. “I’d assume it’s going to be close to that for you.”

“Based on that assumption, we’ll transfer you to the trailer outside just after lunch,” Monique continued. “We want to allow you to spend as much time as you can with everyone here, but it’ll require you to wear a mask while here to prevent air-borne contaminants.”

“Who’ll be in the trailer with me?” Betty asked.

“It will mostly be Alice and I,” David answered. “Monique will be there mostly to observe, although she’ll also handle any medical conditions that arise. But in truth, that shouldn’t involve much.”

“Our hearts will be with you, even if we can’t be there physically,” Greg told her, speaking for both him and Melissa, who stood beside him, watching with a heartfelt tear, nodding eagerly to his words.

“What about Mattie? Will she be there as well?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Mattie responded. “Having gone through this so recently, I’ll definitely be there to help you through it. I think you’ll need all the support you can get.”

“Good, that makes me feel better,” Betty said with a gentle smile, her confidence seemingly in counterpoint to what was approaching. Instead it seemed to reflect a sense of relief, as if by undergoing this ordeal, she’d finally be joining a family again.

Following a dinner marked by worried concern and heartfelt emotions—during which everyone had kept their distances and Betty wore surgical gloves and a face mask to protect the others—David finally helped her out of her chair and escorted her out to the trailer.

“I want to do it on my own,” she stressed, as she walked gingerly since she was already feverish and trembling. “I don’t want everyone’s last memories of me being of a sick invalid. I’d rather they remember me being a brave soul who undertook this of her own volition.”

David walked patiently behind her, never once trying to steady her, despite her stumbling several times. “You’re doing fine,” he insisted, clearly lying in preparation of what would be several days of repeated lies. He encouraged her to struggle on, telling her she was doing fine, looked better, and was only a little further. Everyone knew he was lying, but no one dared say anything. It was clear he needed to prepare himself to lie convincingly over the next several days.

Reaching the trailer, Betty saw what she’d ignored until then. Her pulse quickened as what she saw illustrated what lay ahead of her. Tom arranged the bed, using supplies taken from the gurneys David rescued from the hospital. The central bed now had restraints, individual ones for strapping down each arm and leg, and two to restrain the entire body, one for each the upper and lower body. However, after pausing briefly, she climbed into the bed and allowed everyone to prepare her and the IV.

Instead of allowing her to dwell on her fear, David repeated what he’d done before. He started telling her stories, each one told quietly in a sing-song cadence that consoled and made her feel protected. He described how he and his ex-wife Linda had met, dated and fallen in love, followed by how he felt when he first beheld his beautiful daughter. He proceeded to tell her how that wonderful marriage fell apart when he gave up his successful career, spending his savings building this ‘monstrosity in the woods’, as she’d called it.

Instead of seeming insulting or demeaning, the childlike singing instead came across as comforting, letting her know she could surrender herself to his care, much as she had as a child. It was strangely symbolic, but seemed to work on a primitive level. She welcomed it, focusing on the reassuring cadence rather than on how sick she really was.

He skipped over the details of struggling to build it on his own over the years, helped only by subcontractors and Alice on her bi-weekly visits. Instead he resumed when the meteor shower which ushered in their new world started. He explained how he took in his friends, and how Linda had shown up in the dead of night, bringing several of Alice’s school friends. He repeated Alice’s explanation for why Linda’s feelings had changed, and how his new girlfriend had gotten them back together to ‘work out their feelings for each other’, and how he’d fallen back in love with her, yet remained cautious, not willing to sacrifice his new love of Ellen for her.

Monique thought he was wasting his time. It was clear Betty had already lost consciousness, and she assumed he was merely consoling himself. He ignored her non-responsiveness, continuing to sing his tale as if speaking to an imaginary child.

He continued, though, explaining how Ellen had arranged for him to sleep with one after another of the other adult women in the house, each one under his protests. He recounted how she argued that they needed it to feel protected and to be a part of the new household, and how she was doing it to ‘keep peace in the house’. But he also detailed how he’d come to love each and every one of them.

Finally he described the struggle they each had trying to keep the Great Death at bay and how each had fallen sick. How Ma, Bob’s wife, had died far away, removed from their support; how Linda, Alice’s mother, had sacrificed herself to protect both Alice and him, begging David to take care of her and everyone else in the house; and how Maggie had become infected and died trying to save Linda’s life. He recounted how Alice’s self-absorbed friend, Caitlyn, had committed suicide in the middle of the night, no longer able to take the deaths and the overwhelming sense of dread, and how he, Alice and Ellen all curled up in that very trailer, each slipping away, one by one, sure that they’d suffered their last.

What Monique didn’t realize however, and what no one besides those who had gone through it themselves could, was that Betty never actually lost consciousness, or at least not completely. Instead it was like a fitful sleep. Her mind would drift off, only to snap awake mere moments later, never quite waking her up or causing her to jump, but just enough to allow a little perception to bleed in.

That was where the magic of David’s approach came in. His childish singing allowed his words to bypass the logic centers of the left hemisphere of the brain—largely shut down as the brain reverted to subsistence mode—allowing them to reach the right hemisphere where the emotional centers were. He thus conveyed both the meaning—broken by her flittering consciousness—and the emotional support. As a result, it gave Betty an emotional life-rope to cling to. Whenever her mind would awaken, she’d clutch onto the song, clinging to the words she could distinguish, forcing her to struggle to remain active rather than allowing herself to merely drift in and out of consciousness, awakening only to suffer momentary pain and confusion.

While the words seemed to convey depressing tales of woe, what seemed to reach Betty’s brain, just as it had Alice’s before her, was an uplifting tale of hope and perseverance over adversity; that it’s only by soldiering on that one survives, and it’s the struggle that carries one through, and not simple dumb luck. And it was that, her struggling to remain mentally alert, that allowed her body to marshal its attack, while the song relaxed her enough to allow the body to do its work.

When he finished the tale, detailing how he’d recovered alone, then discovering how Alice, who’d seemed to be dead, had recovered as well, his voice was pretty well worn out, but the hours had passed. Alice and Mattie had been keeping him supplied with water to maintain his voice, using separate glasses for him and Betty—Monique, who remained quietly in the background, had her own water bottle. Alice, having heard this whole spiel before, and not wanting to ever forget it, managed to record it with a series of smart phones set up in relay. After instructing Mattie and Monique how to operate them, she left them alone in order to sleep so she could relieve her father later.

Mattie, who heard the same recitation during her own illness, listened attentively since she’d been feverish for much of it, slipping in and out of consciousness. She wanted to remember each and every detail, since it helped her through her own illness.

It wasn’t just the stories, but the whole process. David climbed into the bed with Betty, cradling her shaking form and comforting her as he sang to her, encouraging her, telling her she would recover and had to pull through for each of them. Each time she’d begin shaking or pass out from the horrendous pain, he’d gently rock her until she recovered, then continue with the tale, encouraging her to continue on the long journey with him.

But after he completed the tale, he reverted to humming, his voice largely worn out, though he managed to save it to encourage her when she needed it throughout the night; getting her to focus through the pain, to resist the urge to surrender, to rally like those before her had tried to do, realizing just how important this was, not just to him, but to everyone who’d gone on before her.

Monique, who’d never heard the tale or witnessed the procedure before, was astonished, even though she didn’t understand the full impact of the act. She saw it simply as a supreme act of love, rather than as a successful treatment option. She’d allowed Debbie to talk her into returning, and staying, because she’d been fascinated by the strange man, but here she got to see a part of him she’d never imagined. She’d been moved when he’d dedicated himself so completely, caring for a dying girl he’d only know for a number of days, but hadn’t realized the depth of his commitment. And that’s exactly what it was. She realized, listening to the story, that this was a part of him, that he felt this strongly about everyone who relied on him. That he’d do the same for anyone in the house now, and how terribly he’d suffered when each person he’d tried to protect had died, despite his best efforts to save them.

The night seemed to simultaneously race and drag by, with everyone focusing on what was happening, even as they struggled through it. Before anyone in the trailer noticed, it was already morning and Debbie and Melissa brought out breakfast, although no one beside Monique was really hungry. Alice returned, forcing her father to eat and offering to take over for him as she sent him off to rest and recuperate from what he’d been through.

It was only then—once she was sure her father had trudged back to the house—that Alice followed suit and did as her father had. She told her own tale of growing up in the love of her mother and father. She did the same, singing in a low comforting voice while cradling the seemingly incoherent Betty how she’d been pulled in conflicting directions when they’d split. How her mother had railed against her father and Linda’s attempts to yank Alice from his life. How she’d relished the times she could travel to his house where she was allowed to do all the things she never could at home.

She then related how she’d been on her way to visit her father when the meteor storm had begun. How they’d rescued Ellen when a stray meteor had damaged her car and she hadn’t realized the danger she was facing, huddling in her broken vehicle. She then made the story her own as she related how she’d effectively orchestrated their romance, arranging for them to be together, ignoring their fumbling efforts to spend time with each other. She then covered how they’d gathered everyone in, though she added details that no one else had suspected, like how her father had nailed drug addicts attempting to rob his friend’s store to the outside wall of his pharmacy with a nail gun, and how he’d do the same for any of those he loved.

She repeated the story of her mother bringing her friends with her to David’s mountain retreat, a place she’d never visited before, because she knew he’d know just what to do, and how he’d always known how to handle difficult situations before. She explained how she’d been pissed when she first learned that Ellen had gotten her parents back together, fearing that her mother would abandon him again when things got better, and he’d then fall apart without Ellen there to hold him together. But she explained how they’d managed to work things out, and reassure her that not only were they OK, but that they were committed to each other, to her, and to the others in the house. She went on to explain how the same thing happened time and again with the others in the house, with Alice and her friends always aware of what was going on even as they tried to hide it.

She described it in a way the listeners—lulled into a non-skeptical mindset by the calming song—could understand what each person felt and what their motivations were. Those listening felt they could understand them even if they couldn’t grasp the entire situation—merely by the way she sang the story.

Her song took on a darker tone as she related each horrible event, each terrifying death after that, but always the song remained one of hope, of enduring and of bearing true. Themes she knew would reach the seemingly unconscious Betty, even if she couldn’t understand the words themselves, and would help her continue to fight the disease instead of merely accepting whatever came. When she related how she’d finally awakened, sure everyone else was dead, only to find her father holding her, she swore she’d never be separated from him ever again, no matter what. By then her own voice was giving out, so she too fell into humming to Betty, who no one was sure was even capable of understanding anymore.

Mattie, who’d been listening attentively, was forced to take her break at that point, having listened for many long hours. She went inside where she could sleep undisturbed, leaving the others out in the trailer on their own. Tom and Debbie then came out to see if they needed assistance, and Monique, begging her own exhaustion, had left them with the tapes that Alice had recorded. They listened until David returned, then feeling it would disturb him to listen to it again, they retreated inside to share it with the others.