Read Online The Cured by Deirdre Gould - Free Book Online Page A

stood dark and thick, like enormous brooding crows on a power line. Henry could feel the little breeze pulsing over his back and through his hair like a great breath, receding and returning. He could see the driveway to the first of the five cabins he’d have to pass before the lodge, and he could feel his heart pick up it’s already strained pace. They had been quiet and dark on the way to town, but he still didn’t like going past. He tried to slide toward the opposite side of the narrow road, but the palette had built up a mound of dragging snow underneath and it didn’t move easily.
    They’re empty. Summer cabins, he thought, There’d be dogs barking. Or cars in the driveway. Henry slunk by the driveway, looking down into the wide front yard. The house was dark, the garage doors closed. The snow still lay thick in the drive, but as he glanced at it, his eye caught on a spattering of dark hollows where the drive met the road. He froze and the palette slid into the back of his calves, but he barely noticed. He stared at the footprints and tried hard to think if they’d been there yesterday. Were they from the woman who’d caused the snowmobile accident? Were they Phil’s? Had he tried the other houses before the lodge? Are they new? Come on Henry, think! You can remember the names and credit scores of hundreds of clients on command, surely you can remember if you saw footprints here yesterday.
    But he couldn’t. He didn’t know if it was the infection or if he’d been daydreaming when he passed the cabin the day before. Even though the aching prickle in his skin convinced him that his life depended on remembering, Henry simply couldn’t. He looked as far as he could down the road. Then he dropped the rope of the palette and waded toward the shadowy voids where someone had passed by. He squinted against the glare of the sun on the snow. The pattern was erratic. Weaving over the drive and yard, into the woods and back out. Henry stopped near the closest footprint. They didn’t make it all the way to the house and Henry thought that was a good sign. He looked down at the outline and almost laughed out loud. The moose must have been a large one, it’s footprint almost the size of Henry’s and much deeper, but the sharp double leafed shape left no room for doubt. Henry felt his heart slow to a quick trot as he released a breath he’d forgotten he was holding. He brushed sweat from his face with a glove and tried to loosen his cramping arms and shoulders. He was getting too worked up. If he didn’t relax, he’d burn himself out before reaching the lodge. He slogged back to the palette and grabbed the rope. He tried to calm down, tried to appreciate the warmth of the sun on his face and the sudden cool, quiet patches of shade under the still trees. But the palette drew more and more snow under it and it packed into the hollows and slats, hardening into ice. It made a sound like scraping styrofoam and Henry began to feel a deep ache in his back and hands. He moved more and more slowly, finding himself stumbling more often in the deep snow. He tried walking in his own footsteps for a while, but he found it harder than just slogging through the unbroken part of the road. It took almost an hour to reach the next cabin, already afternoon, and Henry became afraid that he would be caught on the road after dark. He tried to pick up his pace, knowing he was only halfway back. He began to think resentfully of Dave and then Elizabeth sitting warm and dry and comfortable in the lodge. He would have been back by now if Dave had just come with him. But he was too chickenshit. Elizabeth wasn’t much better, but for a while he forgave her, since she would have to watch Phil. Why am I the one doing this? He wondered, This stuff isn’t even going to help me. I’m sick. I’ll be crazy in a few days. They’ll probably toss me out to freeze to death . Henry felt a lump growing in his throat at the thought, but then his anger