Kerry finished re-stitching Brian's foot. She had been confused about something. As she had wheeled Brian back to the medical center, she had asked him to explain how his powers worked.
"It is given to me by Cheom, the one and only God, to heal people, to demonstrate Its glory."
"So you can cure illnesses and things?"
"It is not I who cures them, but Cheom, working through me," Brian had said. "Diseases are very draining, though. Cuts and wounds are much easier to heal. I'm not sure why."
"Why can't you heal your feet then?"
"Cheom forbids Its priests to use the powers that It manifests through us for our own benefit or gain," Brian had said.
"Oh."
Now Kerry was finished re-stitching and was binding up the feet again. Brian had offered to heal anyone that needed healing before continuing on his way. That would help. But it didn't solve the ultimate problem, the dwindling medical supplies. Maybe, she thought, someone should offer to become a priest of Cheom, but she couldn't imagine who would volunteer. There was something else bothering her, but she didn't know what it was. She'd figure it out, though.
The door opened a crack. Sooty stuck her head in.
"Ah. There you are. The meeting's about to start. Brian, you might want to come along. With your feet like that, you'll probably be in town long enough for this to affect you, too."
Sooty stepped into the room.
"Didn't you already do that?" she asked Kerry.
"It was so much fun the first time, I just couldn't help myself."
"I stood up on them," Brian interjected, "and ripped the stitches out."
Kerry shook her head and smiled. She ripped the end of the gauze and tied it firmly around his ankle.
"C'mon, lets go. You can meet my domestic partner." Kerry wheeled the chair, con Brian, out the door and across the pitted pavement. Sooty strode next to them. Other townspeople were also headed into the center of town. Obviously this was a big deal.
Kerry figured it out.
"When we were talking earlier, you said 'priests' in the plural. So there's more than just you?"
"Well, no." Brian looked slightly embarrassed. "The way of Cheom is a difficult one; few are able, and even fewer are willing to make the journey. Well, perhaps there are a couple here and there. I don't really know, for sure."
"Oh. Ok." Kerry felt relieved. She wasn't sure why.
"Since you're new around these parts," Sooty said, "I suppose I should tell you a little about how things here work. They aren't going to be able to explain everything to you at the meeting. There are a number of towns in the area. Each town specializes in something or another. We have gasoline and an intact library. But we can't grow anything in this soil. Rathaham was barely touched by radiation, I'm not sure how, so their major industry is agriculture. Smitty has an iron mine and a coal mine. That's where most of the people 'round these parts hid during the war. So we exist on a barter system now. We supply the gas and information that others might need. Rathaham provides us with food. Smitty trades us coal, horseshoes, stuff like that."
"That sounds like a fair system," Brian began.
"The last person we saw from Rathaham was the lettuce guy who told us about you."
"That was a week ago."
"Yes."
"Sounds like a problem." Brian had been wondering why he had only been fed beans and cornbread since he woke up. "Why don't you call them and find out what's wrong?"
Kerry and Sooty looked at him.
"There was a phone in the medical center!" he said.
"Its dead, Jim," said Sooty.
"My name is Brian."
"Right." The two women smiled.
"What about a shortwave radio?"
"The radiation in between the towns creates too much interference." Kerry said. "All we get is static. Generally the lines of communication between towns are merchants in horse-drawn wagons. They carry the mail with them. It is a full day's travel to Rathaham, and farther to Smitty. But you know that." She smiled. Brian gave his feet a pained look.
Up ahead the people were gathering. Kerry steered the chair toward a thin figure. From the back, Brian could see baggy black clothes and long black hair, pulled back in a ponytail, waving slightly in the wind.
"Hey, domestic partner!" Kerry called. The figure turned and moved toward them. "Brian, I'd like you to meet Stuart, my d.p." They shook hands.
"Greetings," said Brian, looking at the other's arms. Stuart was thin and not very tall. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, and there were rings on all his fingers, rings with spikes, or dragons, or skulls, or lizards. Beneath his coat he was wearing a very old, very tattered, lovingly mended Voivod concert t-shirt.
"Hi," he said shyly. "I've heard about you. It's good to meet you." He gently pulled his hand back and turned his attention away from Brian. "How was work today?" he asked Kerry.
"Kinda stressful. Brian's been a big help, though. He cured Tim Johnson. After he died."
Sooty and Stuart looked dubiously at Kerry, then at Brian, then back at Kerry.
"Do tell," said Sooty.
"She's exaggerating," said Brian. "He had stopped breathing but he wasn't technically dead." Sooty and Stuart were still looking at him. "It was nothing, really." He spoke without modesty and without pride.
"Whatever. Looks like the whole group is here. Time to start."
Sooty climbed onto a box and looked out at the 300 odd people gathered around her.
"Hi there," she began.