Devils Unto Dust(25)

Benjamin stares at me like I’m a roach he scraped off his boot.

“I’ll get some water.” I walk away as quickly as I can without running. I can’t seem to go more than an hour without embarrassing myself, and I can’t stand the idea that Benjamin Garrett may be right, that I need looking after. Not that it matters what he thinks of me, but still, it’s infuriating. I’m not some addle-headed child who can’t handle herself.

I go to the well and grab the rope that’s tied to a stake in the ground and begin to haul it up, hearing the splash and dull clink of the bucket on the other end. It’s not overly heavy, but I’m tired, and my arms are trembling slightly by the time I get the bucket free. I set it on the edge of the well and take off the bandage on my hand. I wet the rag and use it to clean the dried blood off my cut before dipping my hands into the water. As I raise them to splash my face, I notice the odd color of the water. It has a reddish-brown hue to it, almost like rust. I let the water spill out of my hands, and it hits the ground in a soft trickle, soaking instantly into the dirt. Curious, I lean my head over the well to peer inside, and the smell hits me: a smell like rotting flowers and decaying meat, rank and sickly sweet. I gag and stumble back, the smell following me like a wave.

“What now?” Benjamin moves to my side as I make retching sounds. I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to give up what little food I have in my stomach. Bile stings my throat, hot and sour. Curtis puts a solid and reassuring hand on my shoulder and I try to steady myself. In between dry heaves I point frantically to the well.

“Get her some water,” Curtis says, but I grab Benjamin’s arm as he starts to move away, shaking my head violently.

“N-no,” I manage to say in between coughs. “The water. Smell—” I gag again as I remember.

Curtis immediately strides to the well and leans cautiously over. His face turns pale and tinges green and his jaw clenches as he swallows hard.

My breathing slows and I stand up, using Benjamin as a crutch. I’m too sick to be embarrassed this time.

“What in blazes is going on?” I croak, my throat raw.

“You ever smell a dead body? One that’s been dead for a time?” Curtis asks, and I shake my head.

“Well, you have now.”

“There’s a body down there?” I shudder, feeling ill.

Curtis holds a handkerchief over his mouth and nose and leans forward, peering down into the well. “What’s left of one.”

Benjamin and I both move closer; I hold my breath and look down. The walls of the well turn from sandy white to brown as it sinks, the sun bright enough to illuminate the inside. The well is not as deep as I would have guessed; I can see where the bucket touches the water, bobbing gently where it fell. The water is scummy and dark, like it’s turned solid. Something bumps against the bucket, and at first I can’t tell what I’m looking at; my mind can’t reconcile the image of this bloated, gray object with anything remotely human. Then I see where the mouth used to be, and the features rearrange themselves into a terrifying mask of a face.

I back away quickly, taking deep breaths. I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun, as if the heat could sear away the image of the bloated face from my memory.

“Did you drink from the well?”

I open my eyes to find Benjamin too close for comfort.

“Did you drink the water?” he almost shouts in my face.

“No,” I say angrily, putting some distance between us. “I didn’t. I swear.”

“Poor bastard,” Curtis says, the handkerchief muffling his voice.

“Are you sure?” Benjamin is still insistent. “If you drank any of it, you could be infected.”

“Yes, I’m sure. How do you even know that’s a shake? I thought they were afraid of water.”

“Did you see his mouth?” Curtis asks. “Couldn’t swallow, so he tore his tongue out. I’ve seen ’em do that, near the end.”

“We got no idea how long that body’s been in there,” Ben says. “Whole damn well is contaminated, and who knows who drunk from it.”

“But the smell,” I say. I feel shaky all over.

“They don’t start to smell like that for a few days, at least,” Curtis says grimly. “We need to put the word out.”

I look back at the well and my stomach lurches. Pa could have drunk that water, could have missed the stench until too late. I need to find him, before things go from bad to worse.

Benjamin nods, swearing under his breath. “We should get to the station, have the boys pass it along.”

“We can’t leave it like this,” I say. “What about the men behind us?” The brothers turn to look at me, wearing matching faces of confusion. I let out a small sigh of exasperation. “The people behind us on the road? What if they try to drink from the well?”

“She’s right,” Benjamin says after a moment.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

Curtis rubs his chin thoughtfully, then pulls out a knife that makes mine looks like a child’s toy. It only takes him one quick slice to cut the rope holding the bucket, and he throws the frayed end down into the well.

“Aren’t you awful clever,” Ben says. “But they could still find a way.”

Curtis shrugs. “I’m hungry anyway. Might as well wait for ’em.”