Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(48)
Katherine sniffs. “I cannot believe she thinks we’re meant to work there.”
I stare at Katherine, trying to figure out if she’s serious or having a go at me. Her expression is that of someone who has suffered a grievous insult, and I have to fight to swallow a hysterical laugh.
Her mouth drops open. “Jane, tell me you aren’t insulted.”
I lean in close so that the men don’t hear me. “Insulted? Kate, we have been put in chains and sent halfway across the continent. We are currently at the mercy of a man who believes that Negroes are put here on this earth to fight shamblers at the white man’s behest, and is going to send us out to do it without guns. Jackson sits in a jail cell awaiting some unknown fate. This town is a dirt spot in the middle of nowhere. There are no trees and the land is disconcertingly flat. My virtue is honestly the last thing I’m worried about. I’m hungry, tired, a little afraid, and a whole bunch angry, but a few hurt feelings are the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
My voice rises as I talk, and by the time I get to the end Mr. Gideon has turned around.
“Don’t worry, Miss Deveraux. The Duchess just likes to have some sport with all the girls that come through. Her sense of humor tends a bit mean. Members of the patrol may spend their sleep shifts under the roof of her saloon, but no one in this town will believe they are doing anything but resting there. I’ve taken steps to ensure that past mistakes are not repeated.”
I force him a tight-lipped smile, but his words only serve to agitate me further. Every minute in this place reveals a new, terrible fact. “Past mistakes?”
He doesn’t elaborate, and we finally reach his hole, as the sheriff called it. It’s a small building, not much bigger than the privies we passed a little ways back, and Gideon turns to Bill when we arrive.
“You can stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Bill says nothing, jaw tight, but takes up a guard position, while Katherine and I follow Mr. Gideon down into the gloom.
The most distressing change here at Rose Hill is that, due to the undead plague, most of the people in the valley have abandoned their farms for easier living out west. I daresay that if it weren’t for the aunties, even our happy community would be torn asunder. But Auntie Aggie and her sisters have proven to be as wise as ever, and we are living still in relative comfort.
Chapter 19
In Which I Am Vaccinated and Become a Beacon of Hope
The narrow staircase is dark, but a yellow glow from up ahead provides a bit of illumination. I walk behind Katherine, my fingers brushing hard-packed earth on either side.
The staircase ends and deposits us in a sizable room. The walls and floors are buttressed like a basement, and the entire space is much larger than the small building we entered. Katherine is looking around the room, her expression filled with wonder, and it’s no surprise.
We are in a genuine laboratory.
One of the weeklies a few months ago had been about a scientist who went mad, turning himself into a terrible creature that ravished women. The scientist eventually kills himself after he sees the horror he hath wrought, and I think that, had the story been real, this is the kind of place that might have been his lair. Small lights are embedded into the ceiling, but I find it hard to believe there might be gas lines in this hellscape. Beakers and bits of metalwork are strewn across a wooden workbench, and there are a number of strange, shiny steel things that I reckon are weapons along one wall.
“What kind of place is this?” Katherine breathes. She’s just as awed as I am. I ain’t never seen something so amazing, and I’m half afraid that this ain’t real, just a fever dream from being locked up in that railcar.
“It’s my lab. I’m responsible for a lot of the technology you’ll see around Summerland. Electric lights,” he says, pointing to the ceiling. “Some of the farming equipment we use. I designed a lot of the weaponry. It’s my job here. You heard the sheriff up there—everyone in Summerland has their place, and it’s important to remember what it is.” There’s a tone in his voice, and I wonder if Mr. Gideon ain’t here by choice any more than me and Katherine.
He sighs and waves us over to a workbench along the back wall. A dozen different pieces lie across the surface, and he holds up a sharp needle attached to a glass vial.
“Every Negro who comes to Summerland gets vaccinated. The purpose is simple: the vaccination keeps you from turning if you get bit while on patrol.”
I roll my eyes. “Right.”
His eyebrows raise. “You don’t believe me?”
“While in Baltimore, I had the benefit of attending a lecture given by a professor named Ghering. You heard of him?”
Mr. Gideon puts down the syringe and crosses his arms. “I have.”
“Well,” I say, bending down to take the sheriff’s newspaper from the top of my boot. “I happened to kill the man the professor turned after his vaccine failed. Professor Ghering was no Louis Pasteur, I can tell you that. You can ask my Miss Katherine, she was there, too.” I slip back into the faithful servant act I put on for the Sheriff for just a moment. I don’t know this man, and I have to question the sanity of anyone who thinks sticking a needle in my neck is a good idea.
Mr. Gideon turns to Katherine, and she gives him a tight smile. “What Jane says is true. His vaccine didn’t work.”