Refused Entry

MAREN

Grant had reported me infected while I was still trying to reach him. I read the notification again, checking the name and identification number. Both were mine. Beneath them, my husband claimed he had seen our neighbour bite me before we separated.

Separated. That was how he described locking me inside the garden and driving away.

“Please stop,” I said.

Ronan glanced at the phone in my hands. “We’re almost there.”

“I know. Stop before we reach them.”

He pulled onto an empty petrol station forecourt, and I handed him the phone.

“He lied.”

Ronan read the report while I pulled up my trouser leg. The fabric caught against the swelling, but I kept tugging until the bruises were visible.

“You checked it. He grabbed me here, but he didn’t bite.”

“I remember.”

“I can show you the other leg.”

“Maren, you don’t need to hurt yourself.”

My hands stopped moving. He had noticed before I did that I was pulling the fabric against my injured ankle. I let go and watched him pick up his radio.

“Tessa, meet me outside the entrance and bring your kit. There’s a possible exposure we need to assess.”

A woman answered. “Bite?”

“No visible bite. She’s been flagged in the registry.”

“Keep her outside the camp. I’m coming.”

I turned towards the window.

A few minutes ago, I had somewhere to go. Now I could already picture Ronan helping me out of the pickup and leaving me beside the road.

“Are you dropping me off?”

“No. We’re meeting our medic.”

“But she said outside.”

“We have children there. I can’t take you straight in.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them.”

“I know you wouldn’t choose to.”

That answer made me look at him. I hated that he was right. If I were infected, wanting to be harmless would not protect anyone.

“Will you stay while she checks?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, keeping my face turned towards the window until he started driving again.

 

 

The convoy occupied a fenced service yard beside a repair garage. Through the entrance, I saw people unloading boxes and a woman washing a little boy’s face with a cloth.

He kept trying to pull away, making her laugh. I looked down before she noticed me watching.

Moments later, a woman carrying a medical bag approached the pickup.

“I’m Tessa Ward,” she said as Ronan opened my door. “Can you walk?”

“Not properly.”

“We’ll use the supply van.”

Ronan helped me across to a white van parked outside the fence. Once I was seated on its narrow bench, Tessa asked him to wait outside. He stepped back without arguing.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, pulling on gloves.

I began with Mr. Henshaw coming out of his house, but when I reached the gate, I struggled to explain it.

“My husband pushed me inside.”

Tessa paused. “To get you away from him?”

I shook my head.

“He locked it afterward. I asked for the key, but he wouldn’t give it to me.”

She waited while I swallowed.

“There was a broken fence panel. He knew about it.”

“Take your time.”

I told her how Mr. Henshaw grabbed my ankle and how my shoe slipped off. Then she checked both legs, asking me to turn slowly so she could examine the skin.

“There’s bruising here, but no broken skin,” she said.

“So Grant can’t be telling the truth.”

“Not about a bite on this ankle.”

I wanted her to say more. I wanted her to tell me the report meant nothing and that I could stop worrying. Instead, she asked to see my hands.

“These were open during contact?”

“I cut them climbing the gate.”

“Did his blood or saliva touch them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you remember?”

I stared at my palms, trying to reconstruct every movement.

“I held the rail. Then I fell onto the pavement. He didn’t grab my hands.”

“Did you touch your shoe after it came off?”

“No. He kept it.”

“All right.”

She wrote down my answers before opening a packet of gauze.

“This will sting.”

I nodded, but when she cleaned the first cut, my fingers curled despite the warning.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“You haven’t done anything to apologise for.”

I pressed my lips together.

Grant had made me feel difficult for asking him to stay. Now I was apologising because someone cleaning my wounds had hurt.

Tessa finished and wrapped my palms.

“I haven’t found any bites. We still need to observe you because we can’t completely rule out contact through these cuts.”

“Do you think I’m infected?”

“I don’t have evidence that you are. I also won’t promise something I can’t confirm yet.”

She gave me a clean shirt and stepped outside while I changed. I folded my bloodied one, then unfolded it because I did not know where it belonged. Tessa took it when she returned with Ronan.

“Separate sleeping space and continued observation,” she told him. “I’ve documented everything.”

He nodded, then looked at me.

“How are you feeling?”

“My ankle hurts.”

“And the rest?”

I stared at the floor and began reflecting on the whole thing that played out. Through tears, muttered some words.

“He gave my pass to his mistress.”

Neither of them interrupted.

“I asked him to give her his instead. He wouldn’t even consider it.”

My voice shook, and I pressed my bandaged hands together.

“I still begged him to stay. After I knew about her, I asked him to stay with me.”

Ronan poured water into a cup and handed it over.

“You were frightened.”

“I thought being his wife would mean something.”

The tears came before I could wipe them away. I turned aside, embarrassed that they had both seen. But Ronan stayed where he was.

“The shame belongs to him, Maren.”

I took a drink once I could trust myself to swallow.

“What do you want in exchange for this?”

He frowned.

“The treatment. Somewhere to sleep.”

“You can discuss work when you’re able to stand. You don’t owe us anything for treating your injuries.

They put me in a small camper outside the main fence. Ronan brought blankets and helped support my ankle when I asked him to lift it onto the bunk.

I had just settled when his radio crackled.

“Kessler, the destination patrol received your passenger’s alert.”

His hand stopped on the blanket.

“They’re refusing entry to the entire convoy if you bring Maren Ellis.”