Seymour - \"Quarantine\" pt2

<snip>
Seymour hung up and looked dejectedly at his phone. He then looked
back at Sandramon. "You don't happen to know the exact GPS coordinates
of where we are do you?"
She looked at her friends Bobmon and Frankmon, and they all shook
their heads.
"Fiddlesticks." Said Seymour.
<end snip>
Who: Seymour, Sandramon, Frankmon and Bobmon
Where: Disease colony
When: A few hours later
After a few hours of being at the confinement camp, had gladly latched
onto the three Shellites and chatted amongst them as friends.
Sandramon was the chattiest, and he had found out that Franksmon and
Bobmon were her two brothers. They didn't say too much, and it was
clear that their disease was much further along, and that they were
suffering from more pain than they were showing.
They had built a small fire from the debris around the camp and
huddled around it as the day drew to a close.
Sandramon had been tearfully telling Seymour about how they came to be
in this camp. They had only been brought there a few days before him,
but had quickly learned the ins and outs of the place. "Why are there
people living on the streets when there are several buildings over
there?" The Ambassador asked.
"Those are for people who are much further along with the disease.
When it gets so bad you can hardly walk, they let you inside."
Sandramon said. "I've seen several bodies being brought out at once,
and taken to the cemetery."
Seymour felt guilty. Everywhere he looked he could see people with
dark blotches on their skin and shells. Apparently the first symptoms
of the disease appeared pretty quickly, so he was confident he wasn't
going to catch it, even being this close to the infected. He
desperately wanted to shed his costume and show his new friends that
he wasn't a Shellite after all, but he didn't know how they would react.
Sandramon huddled up to Seymour for warmth. Her two brothers remained
quiet and just sat in quiet suffering. Seymour was sensing that she
was quickly growing a deep affection for him, and it worried him. She
wasn't unattractive, her disease blotches were on her legs and arms,
and places easily concealed, so it was easy to forget that she was
slowly dying. She had kind eyes and a quick smile, but she was still
an alien turtle with green skin and a shell on her back, and Seymour
wasn't sure he could ever find that attractive.
He tentatively put his arm around her, but quickly removed it when one
of her brothers scowled at him.
They only sat in silence for a few minutes before someone started
banging a loud gong. People around them started to get to their feet
and gather into a crowd.
"What's happening?" asked Seymour in confusion.
"It's the lottery." Said Sandramon. "they have this once a day.
"Lottery?" Seymour scoffed. "Even if you became an instant
millionaire, would the guards let you leave to go spread the disease
around the city?"
"Its not for money. Its for a cure." She said.
"A cure exists?" Said Seymour shocked. "Then why are we here? Why
hasn't someone cured you. Um... I mean... us, cured us."
Sandramon looked at the ground. "The cure is really expensive. We
can't afford it. The only way we can afford one treatment is if we put
all our money together, and give one person the chance to get cured."
A man with a limp came round with a bucket for collecting money. For
every coin that got thrown in, he issued a numbered ticket.
"Are you going to play?" Seymour asked.
Sandramon looked deep into her pocket. "I have one coin. I've been
saving it for a lucky day." she squeezed Seymour's hand, taking him by
surprise. "Maybe today is my lucky day!"
Seymour gave a half hearted grin and watched her throw her coin into
the bucket. The man with a limp gave her a ticket which she held close
to her chest.
As she did so, a number of other disease-ridden Shellites around her
started to watch her closely. Seymour noticed the amounts of looks she
was getting, and turned to Frankmon, who was stood close behind her.
Her sturdy brother just nodded at him and Seymour didn't know what to say.
The crowd of diseased Shellites watched closely as a man with only one
arm pulled a number from a dirty hat. Everyone watched with
anticipation, and Seymour could only imagine what people with tickets
were thinking right now, wondering if this was the moment that allowed
them to live, instead of die.
"The winning number is... 306!" The man with one arm called.
Seymour was so caught up in the anticipation of the crowd that he
didn't notice his hand being held tighter. He looked back at Sandramon
and the green had washed out of her face. She quietly showed the
ticket to Seymour. 306.
"You're the winner!" he whispered. "That's great. No, it's jolly
fantastic!" but he paused as she wasn't jumping up in the air like he
thought she would be. She was looking around her at the people looking
at her. Diseased people, desperate people. They grinned with yellowing
teeth.
"Give me the ticket sis." Frankmon whispered. It was the first time
Seymour had actually heard him speak.
She wasted no time in handing the ticket to him. At first Seymour
didn't understand why, he thought he was stealing from his own sister...
Frankmon ran with the ticket through the crowd, or at least he tried
to. The thick volume of people meant he didn't get far. People were
grabbing at him, trying to grab the ticket for themselves. More people
pushed past Seymour and Sandramon to get to him, almost pushing them
over. It seemed like everyone in the crowd was trying to snatch the
ticket.
Seymour tried to push them back, but Sandramon was holding onto him,
burying her face into his arm. Seymour raised himself up onto his
tiptoes to see what was going on, he saw Frankmon being beaten by a
gang of several other people, Bobmon trying to stop them. Then he saw
Frankmon fall, and the fight was out of sight for a few minutes, until
someone stood up brandishing the ticket and ran to the gate, where a
guard opened the door for him.
The crowd dispersed back to their corners of the camp, leaving
Frankmon lying dead on he floor. Sandramon looked up with tears in her
eyes as Bobmon came back. "I tried to stop them." he said weakly. But
didn't say anything else. Sandramon left Seymour's arm and hugged him
instead, leaving Seymour unsure what to say or do. He patted her
brother on the shoulder and sat down by the campfire.
< to be continued >