Chapter Eighteen #2
your meaning.”
“And remember to cover your noses and mouths
when dealing with any of the ill. Even the ones with regular
fevers. The material must be thick. I suggest cutting up plaids
into thick strips as we did.”
“Is there anything else?” James inquired,
his face as ashen as his father’s.
“Yes,” Veronica returned. “Pray like hell
that Victor figures this out. Otherwise we’re all doomed, Campbells
and Gunns alike.”
*****
The ride back home was a silent one.
Veronica could only assume everyone was as lost in thought and
grief as she was. At least they didn’t have to share in her guilt.
That was one thing the others had going for them that she didn’t.
She realized Lachlan would never blame her, but could hardly fault
Finn and Ramsay if they felt otherwise. If she hadn’t made it back
in time, if she’d been taken out by an eater before the injection,
none of this nightmare would be happening. None of it. Victor had
made it to the Highlands before the dead began evolving. He’d made
it to 1155 A.D. completely unscathed, no evolved, infected flesh
covering his hair and clothes.
Veronica sighed. She now understood how
lucky she was that she hadn’t caught the virus. It would have made
itself known by now if she had. At least there was one positive
occurrence to come from all this, she thought grimly, but
truthfully she’d trade her life for the ones that would be lost if
she could. The guilt was too overwhelming.
“I wish we dinna dump the basin at the
borderlands,” Finn finally said. His dark gaze had a haunted look
about it. “I dinna ken where else we could have drained it, yet my
guilt is powerful.”
Veronica’s head snapped up. “The only one
who should feel responsible is me. You couldn’t have known. Hell,
even I didn’t know.”
“I order you to cease this, wife!” Lachlan
barked. “You dinna ken what would happen and I’ll not have you
thinking you did.”
“But—”
“Nay. No buts.”
She sighed. As if he could just command her
guilt away. Still, she didn’t contradict him in front of his men.
She remained in silence instead, her arms wrapped around Lachlan’s
middle, as they galloped back to Gunn lands.
*****
Veronica told her future tale from the
beginning within their bedchamber. There were gasps of shock and
horror aplenty. He hoped all of this wasna too much for his aged
mother to take in and endure. Then again, she was full of
surprises. Never had he thought to see his regal mum practicing how
to strike a mon with her eating dagger, yet she had taken to the
sport with great zeal and proficiency.
“I already knew,”
Catriona quietly admitted. “Victor told me he wanted no secrets
betwixt us if we were to be wed.” Her blue eyes welled up with
tears. “I just dinna ken how dire this truly was—is. Now I will
like as naught die a spinster, brother, for I will take no mon to
husband save my beloved Victor.”
“He will not die,” Lachlan promised. “I
shan’t allow it.”
His mother looked too stunned to take in any
more proclamations. Her blue eyes, much like Catriona’s, were
downcast and troubled. Luckily there was no more information to
give. His gaze flicked toward his wife. He could surmise the guilt
was eating away at her, which in turn caused him much anguish. The
same feeling of helplessness he’d harbored whilst Veronica had been
on the run from Apple Creek to the Highlands stole over him,
blackening his already foul mood. He wanted everraone to leave his
bedchamber save Veronica. The room was large, aye, yet he wished to
be alone with his wife.
Hero stood up and walked to where Lachlan
stood as if reminding him he belonged in the bedchamber too.
Lachlan absently bent down a bit to pet the recently fed dog.
“I’m sorry,” Veronica said with
gut-wrenching sincerity. “I never should have come here. This is
all because of me.”
“Dinna say that, child,” his mum scolded, at
last looking up. “You belong here with my son, with the lot of us.
I dinna wish to think on life without you in it.”
“Aye,” Catriona chimed in. “You are Lady
Gunn now and everramore. Leastways, ‘twould have gutted my beloved
Victor if you dinna survive.”
“’Twould have gutted me as well,” Lachlan
rumbled. “I watched you for many weeks afore you arrived, wife,
worried because I dinna have a way to protect you.”
Veronica smiled. ‘Twas a sad smile, but
‘twas a start. “Thank you. All of you.” She patted him on the hand.
“And you’re a good man, Lachlan Gunn.”
He grunted. “Aye, I am,” he boasted. His
expression quickly grew serious. “So cease this guilt. Do it for me
if you canna do it for yourself.”
She nodded. “You’re right. At this point
guilt is a wasted emotion. I just wish I could do something about
all of this,” she growled, standing up and taking to pacing. “I’m a
great fighter, but there’s no clear enemy to fight. Now that I’ve
met them I’ll have no part in killing survivors as a precaution.”
She frowned as she came to a halt and looked directly at him. “And
neither will you. Promise me.”
He frowned back at her. Lachlan would be
lying if he proclaimed the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
Leastways, it seemed the easiest way to make the sickness go away
afore it rampaged.
“Promise me,” Veronica said again.
“Please.”
“How do you ken it willna spread to all of
the lands like it did in your future?” he asked, feeling defensive.
He wished he’d brought Finn and Ramsay into the bedchamber. They’d
take his side no doubt. “Will Victor have the lot of us time travel
to years gone by to escape it?”
She plopped back down on the bed again,
sighing. “No. For whatever reason 1155 A.D. was the only year that
worked for Victor. God only knows how many more years it would take
him to figure out how to go back even further.”
“Then why are we considering letting the
sickness spread? What if it reaches the people I am sworn to
protect?”
“It’s contained for now,” Veronica assured
him. “I just wish we could keep in contact with Victor.”
He thought that o’er. “What of the
laptop?”
His wife’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She
shot up off the bed and made her way to the chamber’s table where
the laptop had been set. “Victor has the AI scanner with him and
I’m still wearing the wristband he created for me,” she explained.
“Don’t ask me how it works,” she muttered at his confused look,
“because I really don’t know.” She scooped the laptop up, brought
it with her to the bed, and sat back down. “I’m keeping this open
until we hear from him.”
“Tell me when you make contact with him,
sister,” Catriona pleaded. “I shall be o’ercome with worry until
you do.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll let you know as soon
as I do.”
Lachlan inattentively glanced aboot his
newly decorated bedchamber. Veronica had added tapestries to the
stone walls, plus a chest of drawers and wardrobe for her newly
acquired belongings. He sighed for he kenned how absentminded
Victor could be whilst working on one of his projects. For his wife
and sister’s sakes, he prayed to the saints the mon strayed from
his work long enough to inform them of his wellbeing.
*****
For the next few days, Victor studied the
victims, grateful the sick didn’t ask too many questions. After
all, he had no notion how to explain the existence of his gadgets
or what they did without saying too much. He needed the stricken to
trust him, not worry he was insane. The readings coming back were
incredibly hopeful. It appeared those who’d fallen ill with normal
fevers dwelled the furthest from the communal well; they had
experienced exposure to the virus in such small doses that it was
allowing a natural immunity of sorts to develop. Surely he could
create a vaccine with this knowledge.
Perhaps, at long last, he understood his
true purpose. Maybe he was supposed to be here all along.
Perhaps—just maybe—inoculating those not yet sick in the here and
now was how he could alter the future. Some would be inoculated,
while others would have natural immunity, both of which would pass
down through the generations. No matter the method, the future
would be given half a chance at survival.
He blew out a breath, appreciative that he’d
been born when he had and not as little as fifty years earlier. The
advancements in vaccines before DR-71 had hit were a vast
improvement over inoculations from the near past. Once a mother or
even a father was given the vaccine, any children born thereafter
inherited that immunity from inception. Everything, all of those
advances, had been based on AI technology.
“How goes it?” James asked, popping his head
into Victor’s bedroom within the Campbell’s stronghold.
“Very well,” Victor said, taking off his
glasses so he could rub his eyes. “Much better than expected.”
James nodded. “’Tis a boon to hear for
another has been stricken with the icy fever.”
Victor’s head snapped up. His gaze bore into
James’. “They live in close proximity to the well?”
“Aye.”
That truth further delineated his
hypothesis. Those who’d had the most exposure to the well water
were developing icy fevers; those who’d had minimal exposure were
not.
“You know what must be done,” Victor told
James. “There can be no exceptions.”
“Aye. I ken my duty. I dinna have a care for
it, but ‘twill be done.”
“I’m sorry,” Victor murmured. “I’ve never
been in your situation so I can only imagine how stressful it must
be.”
“Never?”
He shook his head. “I was one of the lucky
few. A very lucky few.”
James inclined his head. “I will let you get
back to your work.” He sighed. “And I shall go finish mine.”
“Just be careful,” Victor warned. “According
to my sister, once the icy fever begins it doesn’t take long to
turn its victims into vicious, cannibalistic killers.”
James visibly shuddered. “I shall bar the
hut’s door afore setting fire to it.”
“But prepare for anything that might burst
out of it. They are strong after they turn. Behead the resurrected
dead if it comes to that.”
“’Tis little wonder why you left the future
with all haste.”
Victor acknowledged the truth behind his
statement. “Yeah. Unfortunately, this time there is nowhere left to
flee to. That’s why we have to end this before it begins.”
James’ expression told Victor he understood.
“The saints be with you.”
“And with you.”