And that’s when Frankie realized the enormity of the situation. If the Oglethorpes left, there would be no need for her, and she’d be fired without any kind of notice. She’d been walking through the garden when the understanding overwhelmed her, and her feet fell still as she struggled to breathe.
For the first time she ignored the beauty surrounding her and the crisp sweetness of the air because all she could think of was Cathy. A sense of panic began to claw its way through Frankie, and her mind scrambled for a solution. She could sneak in after the family left and dig up the roses and plant them in the dirt of her home. That would keep the illness from advancing through her sister, but it wouldn’t keep the beaked doctors from knocking on the door and demanding their bribe.
Frankie’s legs felt weak, and she allowed herself to sit on a nearby bench. On any other day such action would lead to a severe reprimand, but what did that matter if Charles was telling the truth? And he had been—she could see it in the small details of the house, the tiny preparations for the family to flee.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, and Frankie raised her face, scanning the rows of blank windows surrounding the courtyard garden. Most days the curtains were drawn to keep the sun from heating the rooms during the long summer mornings, but today one was open along a third-story corridor.
Charles stood, watching her, his hand cupped around the sill. Frankie thought she saw one of his fingers twitch, and she couldn’t tell if it was a greeting or merely a muscle spasm. It didn’t matter. She was sitting when she should be working, raising her chin toward family when she should be bowing.
She stumbled to her feet quickly, the stack of linens she’d set in her lap fluttering to the ground. Instantly she dropped to her knees, pulling the fabric into a pile and gathering it in her arms before scurrying toward the kitchen. She was happy to have an excuse to hide her face from him.
That night when the knock on the door came, Frankie felt confident that Cathy was scrubbed bright and clean and that the three days’ worth of wages she’d scrounged would be enough to keep the beaked doctors at bay.
Her heart still pounded as she cracked open the door, but the flood of terror that accompanied this ritual most evenings was set to simmer rather than boil. Still, the sight of the doctor looming outside, the long, slender beak of his mask protruding from a cloud of thick incense smoke, caused her breath to hitch.
The plague eater strained at the leash by the doctor’s side, a low hissing growl causing its body to vibrate.
Frankie clutched the wages in her hand and held them out, but the doctor only glanced at her offering for a moment before pushing her aside.
“Wait.” Her voice sounded high-pitched and afraid. The doctor’s robes swept around him as he strode toward the center of their tiny shack. As on every other night, Cathy sat in her bath, knees drawn up to her chin and eyes wide. The tips of her hair floated around her, shielding her nakedness from view.
Frankie moved between the doctor and her sister and held out her hand again, but the beaked man ignored her. Instead he focused on her sister while the beast by his side lunged and struggled against its harness.
“She’s not sick,” Frankie insisted. “Neither of us is.” She watched in horror as the doctor gave slack to the plague eater’s leash and the creature ran once around her, merely hissing, before moving toward the tub. It rose on its hind legs, stretching its long body tall, but still it couldn’t reach over the lip of the basin.
“No,” Frankie cried out, attempting to grab the leash, but the doctor held out a thick walking stick, pressing her against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. Outside other beaked doctors milled. The boy with the censer swung it in ever larger arcs, filling the air with such acrid smoke that Frankie felt she couldn’t draw a proper breath.
She became frantic, tears blurring her eyes as the doctor pointed toward Cathy and ordered, “Out,” in a muffled voice. Frankie tried to stop him again, but he was stronger and kept her at bay.
He had the courtesy of turning his head away when Cathy rose from the water and shuffled toward her clothes, not even taking the time to dry herself before pulling them on. She looked so frail bent over herself as she dragged on her skirt.
Frankie wondered why the doctor bothered to show any courtesy at all before sending her to her death.
“Please,” Frankie whispered, but she wasn’t sure if the doctor could hear her through the layers of cloth and leather protecting him from the stench of the swamps.
Once Cathy was dressed, the doctor let loose the plague eater again, and the creature lunged hungrily forward. Frankie moaned, but Cathy was silent as the beast licked its tongue along the flesh of her leg, leaving a trail of saliva that glistened in the low light of the fire.
The thing’s nose twitched, and it pawed at Cathy’s foot, causing her to wince as sharp talons scratched her skin. It still hadn’t howled, and for a moment Frankie let her held breath seep from her lungs. Perhaps her sister was clean enough for the plague eater not to alert on her. Maybe the scent of the rose water would throw the beast off, and the beaked doctor would leave their house, and her older sister would be safe.
But before the dream could fully crystallize, the creature began to whuff, sucking and snorting, and then its lips pulled back from razor-sharp teeth, and it began to howl and growl. Before it could take a bite, the doctor yanked hard at the leash, causing the beast to twist and grapple as it toppled through the air. It landed with a hiss, its ears pinned back and body held low to the ground, growling.
Frankie’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a weapon. She was still desperately searching for a way out when the doctor reached for Cathy.
“No!” Frankie screamed, and she lunged. Her fingers were like claws when she attacked the man, but her efforts were useless. His body was too well protected for her to do any damage, and he didn’t even bother to fight back.
Another doctor swept through the door just then, pulling her away from his companion. The first doctor raised his walking stick, preparing to bring it across her back, but the new doctor raised a gloved hand, holding him off.
His other hand clamped around her bare arm, and she felt something off about the touch. When he pulled away, she looked down to find a trail of slickness smeared over her shoulder and oozing toward her elbow. Then the plague eater, which had been huddling on the ground, leaped to attention and struck toward her.
Frankie backed frantically into the corner. “I’m not sick!” she cried out. But the beast was more agile than she was. Already its talons bit into her as it climbed her body, tongue darting toward the slick on her arm.
She’d heard about the rumors—of doctors starting to take the healthy as well as the infected—but she hadn’t been willing to believe them. Now she had no choice. This new doctor had done something to her—wiped something that caused the plague eater to alert. Even more doctors streamed into the house, the lot of them indistinguishable in their midnight robes and beaked masks.
“You can’t!” Frankie shouted. “You can’t!”
Her brain wasn’t fast enough to come up with something else to say, something that would stop the men binding her wrists and stuffing a gag into her mouth. They tied a rope between the sisters and dragged them from their home.
Frankie was horrified and angry, so enraged she couldn’t think or react. She saw tears in her sister’s eyes, saw the way her body shook, and she wanted to tell Cathy that she was sorry, but her mouth was stuffed with cloth.
Out in the streets there were others bound and gagged, and most of them stood with blank stares, some of them with faint red trails down their cheeks, evidence that the fever had raged too close to death for recovery.
Frankie didn’t understand why they weren’t fighting. Why her neighbors were hiding behind curtains and doors and weren’t trying to stop the doctors from taking them away. But of course last night and the night before that for weeks, Frankie and Cathy had been the ones hiding, not taking the
risk to defend the people who’d once been friends.
The boy with the censer led them through the streets, and the ranks of the bound sick grew, and Frankie still couldn’t figure out a way to escape. Beaked doctors surrounded them, their hidden eyes watching for any attempt to break free of the ranks. Soon they’d finish their rounds and they’d start the long walk to the hospital. That would be the end for Frankie and her sister.
They certainly didn’t have money to purchase a private or even a public room for treatment. They’d be shunted toward the basement where, rumor had it, fever victims were piled in old tunnels and left as food for the plague eaters.
Frankie worked one hand free enough to find her sister’s fingers and grip them tight. She didn’t want to think about what came next.
All too soon the doctors began to shuffle them toward the road along the coast that led to the hospital. They moved slowly, some of the sick unable to walk quickly, and everyone else unwilling to hasten their fate.
Frankie pulled her sister to the back of the group, hoping to find a chance to slip through, but they were too closely guarded. And then something that felt like a stick slapped against her shin, tripping her. Her arms were bound, and she couldn’t control her fall. Because Cathy was tied to her, she stumbled as well, and they collapsed together in a pile.
When Frankie looked up, one of the doctors hovered over her, the tip of his smoking beak mere inches from her face. She wanted to slap at him, but could only glare, which was small comfort.
The man reached for her, his grip painfully tight as he jerked her to standing. His treatment of Cathy was a little more gentle, for which Frankie was grateful, but not enough that she didn’t fight the moment he turned from her. Frankie felt her toe connect with something that felt weapon-like, and she saw the doctor’s walking stick rolling across the ground.
She knelt, pretending to be dizzy after the fall, and reached for the staff. The rest of the group had already traveled a distance away, leaving Frankie, Cathy, and the doctor to catch up.
When Frankie rose, she was already swinging, and the beaked doctor couldn’t have seen it coming because he did nothing to defend himself. The stick cracked loud against his head, causing him to stagger.
But he didn’t fall. Cathy and Frankie barely made it far before they heard the scrabble of talons chasing after them, and the horrible huffing and hissing of the plague eater as it closed in. The doctor had dropped the leash, either in the confusion of the scuffle or from being hit or just to track them down.
The creature was faster than either of the girls, and it caught them easily. Frankie still gripped the walking stick, and she beat at the thing, but it seemed immune to her efforts, coming after them again and again.
Then the doctor was there. A thin crack ran across his goggles, and the long, slender beak was broken open. Smoke poured out, wreathing his head in a cloud of incense that caused Frankie’s eyes to water and lungs to constrict.
He stepped on the plague eater’s leash, then jerked the creature back under control before reaching for the rope tied between Frankie and Cathy. Tears trailed down her sister’s face, and Frankie could tell from the curve of her shoulders that she was close to giving up.
She wanted to pull Cathy into a hug and whisper into her ear. She was used to being the strong one, but sometimes it was overwhelming to carry everything for the family.
And she’d failed too many times already. Oh so many times.
It took Frankie longer than it should have to realize that the doctor wasn’t dragging them after the departing flock toward the hospital but rather toward narrow alleys weaving along the edge of the docks.
Ever since the quarantine had been enacted, most of the buildings around the port had become abandoned, the warehouses slowly emptying of goods and no ships allowed in to replenish them.
Frankie wondered if the man was taking them somewhere to punish them for acting out and striking him. Horrid images of the doctor tying her to a post in an empty room and just letting the plague eater have its desired meal flickered through her thoughts. She tried not to imagine what the teeth would feel like as the beast gnawed on her skin. She knew the doctors kept them hungry so they’d alert on the ill. How hungry would this creature be? Enough to kill her and her sister quickly?
The doctor stopped them next to a full water barrel in the darkest bowels of a narrow street. The few windows along the building towering over them were dark, several of them broken, and Frankie knew that even if she weren’t gagged, she could scream all she’d want and no one would come to their rescue.
At their feet the plague eater hissed and lunged, and Frankie could tell that the doctor kept it restrained with effort. Slowly he pulled the leash tighter and tighter until the beast was forced to climb up his thick black robes. Once it was within reach, the doctor grabbed it and slammed it into the barrel’s murky depths.
Water sloshed over the edges, splashing against Frankie’s legs. Even as he held the plague eater under, the doctor didn’t shift his attention from the two sisters, his body tensed and ready as if to chase after them if they tried to escape.
Frankie was mesmerized by the sight of the drowning animal. The beast thrashed, and the doctor grunted with effort. Every now and again bits of the creature would break the surface, the long pink tail whipping against the doctor’s arm as it fought for life.
It took a long time. Frankie never realized just how hard something would fight for life. But eventually the water grew still. The doctor continued to keep his hand buried underwater just to make sure. The smoke from his beak began to disperse, and for a moment Frankie thought she could see the edge of his chin. She realized his mouth was open as he panted from the recent struggle.
She’d been easing Cathy along the wall, putting distance between them as she tried to figure out a way to escape. As if he could read her mind, the doctor stepped closer. He reached for her hands. Frankie punched at him, but he deflected the blow. She kept struggling, and the doctor pushed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall so she couldn’t fight him.
When the rush of sensation began stinging her fingers, she realized what he was doing: setting her free. And then he moved and unwound the rope from her sister as well.
Frankie ripped the gag from her mouth and then pulled her sister into her arms, feeling Cathy sob against her. Her relief was short-lived when the doctor put a hand on her shoulder as if to usher them farther down the alley toward the wharf.
Frankie pulled away, keeping her sister tucked safely behind her. She couldn’t see past his goggles, and so she couldn’t meet his eyes. He held his arms by his side, gloved fingers splayed open to show he meant no harm. It didn’t matter. Frankie began to step back from him, putting more distance between them.
“Wait,” the doctor said, his voice muffled by the mask and the billow of smoke that accompanied every exhalation.
Frankie continued to draw away. The doctor fumbled with his robes, finding a slit and then reaching into the pocket of his black pants. When he pulled his hand free, Frankie could only say, “Oh,” as the doctor held out a palm full of rose petals.
Nestled among the damp, wilted petals sat two large, gleaming coins, more money than Frankie’s family had likely ever seen since arriving in Portlay generations ago.
“The last ship leaves soon,” the doctor said as he gestured toward the wharf. “It’s docked out in the harbor.” Frankie glanced over her shoulder, but she saw nothing except water reflecting back the thin gleam of stars.
“She’s running black sails,” the doctor added, and now that she knew what to look for, Frankie saw a spot of sea with no reflections, as though something great and hulking were sucking in all the light. A small boat slipped between it and the shore.
When she turned back to the doctor, he was by her side, and she watched him as he talked, seeking out the familiarity now. “These”—he pressed the coins into Frankie’s hand—“are for the last two spots on board.”
&nbs
p; “Charles?” His name felt just as strange on Frankie’s lips tonight as it had the evening before. But she recognized his voice now, and the way he held his shoulders straight and the shape of his mouth and chin.
She couldn’t believe how well she knew these tiny details of him.
“You’re one of them?” She had no claim on him, yet she felt betrayed all the same. That he was someone rounding people up and sending them to their deaths or taking bribes for them to have just one more day with their families disgusted her.
His silence was his answer as he stood wearing the beaked mask and black robes.
“How?” she asked. She didn’t know if she meant how did he become a doctor or how could he stand himself.
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like in order to make a change in the world,” he said. “Becoming one of them was the only way I could find to help you.” He curled her fingers around the coins. “The ship will take you past the quarantine, somewhere safe.”
This didn’t make sense to Frankie. “What about your coin? Your spot?”
Charles cupped his hand over hers and she felt the warmth of him through the soft leather gloves. “You have it.”
She didn’t realize that he’d been pushing her and Cathy forward until she heard the gentle lap of the sea against the pier, smelled the tangy freshness of salt water. “But you’re coming, right?”
“That boat”—he pointed to the narrow craft halfway between the larger ship and shore—“will only wait one minute when it reaches the dock. If you’re not there, it will leave you.”
Frankie noticed other people hovering in the darkness, tucked into the shadows cast by the empty warehouses. A few were already sneaking toward the pier, dark shawls wrapped tightly over their heads and faces. Cathy watched it all with wide eyes, but Frankie’s attention was focused on Charles.
“Why? Why would you ever give up your chance to escape? Why let us go instead?”
More and more people swelled from the darkness, beginning to race for the tiny boat. She heard a few of them whispering to one another, but one voice began to rise above the rest.