Mayor Hamish Washington has come to see me.
Behind him is a gangly youth about my age, looking put out. The boy’s skin has a ruddy hue to it, and I suppose he’s fine-looking enough, but I can’t help but notice his hands, which look entirely too soft to have seen any real work.
Lord have mercy.
“Miss McKeene! Well met,” the man booms, his voice filling the room and overflowing it so that I wince. “My name is Hamish Washington, and I am the elected mayor of Nicodemus. We met briefly yesterday before you were incarcerated.”
“I remember—you’re the one who seems to think indulging the Summerland folks is a good idea,” I say, gesturing weakly at the bars between us. “And not so well met, sir, as you can see that I am in quite the predicament.” I still sit on my bunk, and I make no effort to climb to my feet. I might’ve been brought up as a Miss Preston’s girl, but I am quickly leaving tiresome etiquette behind. However, neither of my guests seems to notice my breach of decorum. The man laughs and claps the boy next to him on the shoulder.
“A clever girl, Cyrus! I told you, did I not?”
Cyrus looks like he’s as happy about this meeting as I am, and the corners of his mouth pull downward. “Father, we don’t have time for pleasantries. There is a horde at the gates. Shall we get on with the business at hand?”
I swallow a laugh as the mayor’s smile falters for a moment. So, it seems that the mayor is the glad hand while his son is the voice of reason. Which makes this meeting all the more interesting.
Which one of them wanted to speak with me? And why?
“Yes, of course, my boy, of course. Jane, Mr. Carr—Gideon—has spoken very highly of you. Very highly indeed.” The mayor talks like we are old friends, and I lean back on my bunk, because I learned long ago that you should never trust a man who treats you like a longtime friend.
“Mayor, that is good to know, but my immediate concerns are of my pending trial—”
“No doubt, Miss McKeene, most assuredly. But please keep in mind we expect to have those charges cleared up post haste—once your moral character is accounted for.”
“And my secondary concern,” I continue as though the man hasn’t taken the opportunity to talk over me, “is that horde outside your gates that is about to overwhelm the town.”
The man nods, and Cyrus gives his father another nervous look.
“Which is why we are here, Miss McKeene,” the mayor says, his insistence on saying my name over and over again fraying my temper. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, the town’s defenses are nigh impenetrable—far beyond those of Summerland. But the former residents of Summerland—white and Negro alike—have impressed upon us the threat that this extraordinarily large horde presents. As such, the council has been debating whether we should require that residents of Nicodemus receive an injection of Gideon Carr’s inoculation. These hordes of late present a threat the likes of which we have not seen since the Chaos Years. Mr. Carr, the architect of our marvelous defenses, says he has perfected an inoculation that he has been working on for a number of years. That vaccine will greatly improve our chances for survival, should our walls be breached.” The mayor’s voice remains polished as ever, but beneath his tone is a note of fear, one I might not have noticed if I hadn’t heard such a thing before.
The same tone laced the speech patterns of Sheriff Snyder back in Summerland. The mayor might seem composed, but I reckon his fear will be his undoing.
“If you think the town will be breached, then why not evacuate now when it could be done in an orderly manner?” I ask.
Mayor Washington covers his unease with a deep chuckle. “No one is saying that Nicodemus will fall, my dear girl. I suspect we’ve all witnessed the fall of a town in our time, terrifying as that sight is, but it remains the truth that most towns are brought down from the inside, the carnage instigated by a small group of infected persons finding their way in and turning the town. Rotting it from the inside, as it were. Mr. Carr’s vaccine would prevent that threat. And we have the walls for the more obvious challenge of the hordes.”
“I, on the other hand, believe the risk is simply too great,” Cyrus says, interrupting his father with a pointed look. “If Gideon’s formula is imperfect, it could result in the very outbreak within the walls of Nicodemus that Father just spoke of preventing. Mr. Carr, to my mind, seems overly confident in his vaccine, without any real evidence of efficacy. The majority of the council shares my concerns.”
“Which is why we are here,” the mayor concludes with an indulgent smile.
“You want me to tell you that the vaccine works,” I say, my face heating. I barely manage to keep my aggravation from my voice. I told Gideon I wasn’t going to provide him with any sort of support.
“Oh, indeed, that would be quite helpful, Jane,” the mayor says with a nod.
“Have you been bitten?” Cyrus asks.
I shake my head.
“So then you cannot possibly know,” Cyrus says with a note of finality in his voice, and I like him a great deal more.
“Now hold on, Cyrus,” the mayor interjects, holding up a hand to forestall his son’s next words. “You have received the injection, correct, Miss McKeene?”
“Yup,” I say, “right along with every other Negro that had the misfortune of spending time in Summerland.”
“And yet, you seem quite fit,” the mayor says.
I frown. “I ain’t died yet, if that’s what you mean.”
“There, you see?” he says, clapping his son on the back. “The vaccine is safe.”
“That is not even remotely what she said,” Cyrus says, exasperated.
“You said it yourself, son,” the mayor says, turning his back to me, as if I have served my purpose and am no longer part of the conversation. “It’s the risk of accidental infection that constitutes the only argument for not administering the vaccine. If it doesn’t prevent one turning into the restless dead, well, we are no worse off than when we started. But if it does work, we will have saved the town” He smiles now, his voice filled with relief, and his foolishness is unbearable.
I leap to my feet. “You’re damned for a fool if you put your faith in Gideon’s serum,” I growl. “The last time I listened to a man tout some injection and how it’s going to save us from the plague, I ended up having to put down a handful of freshly turned shamblers in the middle of a university lecture hall. All it’s going to take is one of those things inside these walls, and we’re done for, no matter what your sainted Mr. Carr tells you. You need to start getting people out of this town in a coordinated manner. The time you fritter away waiting for the tides to turn is time you ain’t got.”
Mayor Washington takes half a step back. “Gideon Carr is a man of science—” he begins, but this time, I don’t let him finish.
“Gideon Carr is the son of a man who was a staunch Survivalist and whose actions led to the fall of Baltimore. I’m sure you’ve heard tales about how that ended. And Gideon himself was only too happy to watch colored folks be sent out to their death day after day in Summerland. I saw his vaccine in action, coursing through the veins of those folks—when those walls were breached, they turned, the same as the rest of us will. It. Doesn’t. Work!”