Page 102 of Stay Buried

“Frankie, you and your uncle, I think you should leave town.”

“We can’t,” I told him. “People are sick.” I left off the rest:My uncle was bitten. He’ll be sick soon.

“They’re killing them,” he said.

His eyes were darting up and down the street, frantic, terrified.

“What?”

He looked at me. “They’re killing the sick: Emile, Niles, Anthony LaRocca. They’re all dead. Shot in the woods.”

“But who—”

“And Clarence Atkins, he and his wife were just found shot in their home. Mildred wasn’t even sick. Not yet.” He looked on the verge of tears. His whole body seemed to be vibrating with fear and panic.

“My God,” I said.

“People are saying… they’re saying the sick aren’t themselves. That they’re evil. They’ve been possessed. They’re saying the knackerman’s the devil. That they’re killing these people to save them, to save their souls.”

“But that’s crazy, that’s just—”

“Me and Paul and Roy—we’re leaving town tonight. You and Dr. Endicott, you should go too.” And before I could answer or ask any more questions, he was gone, slipping off into the darkness.

I carried our sandwiches and coffee to the kitchen table and called for Uncle Thomas to join me. When he did, I told him everything Jim had said.

He wrung his hands tightly together and looked down at them.

“We’ve got to do something,” I said.

Uncle Thomas pushed away his plate of food, looked up at me.“We will.Youwill.”

“Me? What am I going to do?”

He held the coffee cup in his hands, wrapping his fingers around it like he was trying to get warm, but did not take a sip.

“You’re going to walk out of here and go to Amsterdale.”

“No.” I shook my head fiercely. “I won’t leave you.”

“There’s nothing you can do for me here,” he said. “You know that as well as I do.”

“But I have to try. I have to—”

“No.Thisis what you have to do. You’ll go to Amsterdale and find Margaret. From there, you’ll take a train to Boston. I’ll write down the name and the address of the doctor I want you to find there. You’ll bring the specimens we’ve collected and all of our notes to him. I’ll send you with a letter for him, summarizing the situation and asking him to send help as soon as possible—tend to whatever patients might be left, and identify this illness.”

“But the people here, they’re sick. Without you… they’ll need a doctor. And if the illness keeps spreading, and people are rounding up the sick and shooting them, then—”

“We are out of our depth, Frankie. We need men far better equipped for this sort of outbreak and the madness it’s created. This is how you can best help the people of Boone’s Ferry. If you stay, you’ll only be handing out remedies that won’t do a damned thing, and watching folks succumb, one by one, until the inevitable happens and you get sick or shot—or both.”

I knew he was right. I nodded. “Very well. I’ll go. And I’ll come back with help.”

“Good. Now, once you’ve finished eating, I want you to go to the Stoddards’ home and bring back Benjamin’s finest suit and one of Clarice’s nicest dresses. I’ll see the reverend in the morning. They can be laid to rest together.”

I forced myself to eat, though I wasn’t hungry. At last, plate empty,I stood to go.

“Frankie, wait,” my uncle said, standing. He walked back toward his study, and returned with a Smith and Wesson revolver.

“Take this,” he said. “Don’t hesitate to use it, if you must.”