Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

with your foolishness! Come at once!” She stomps her foot to emphasize the last word.
    “I cannot leave these innocent children to die in the streets. We can take them, cure them with our antidotes, and find homes for them among our servants in the country.”
    “I will not put those filthy children on my cart or in my house,” Hadrian says from his distance, as Mother nods in full agreement.
    I fold my arms. “Then I will not go with you.”
    Mother drops her head in total disappointment, and Hadrian smirks. I worry at what I just said. I hold my breath, hoping that he will give in, since I didn’t consider how I could possibly take care of myself.
    “Oh!” He starts laughing. “So you think you can fend for yourself? With no money or help in a city riddled with plague !” He walks to the back of the cart and opens his trunk. Chuckling to himself, he pulls out some of his vials and closes the trunk.
    He hands me the vials and says, “God save you.” He then goes to ready the cart.
    “Elizabeth, get on this cart at once!” My mother rages but I only shake my head. I have never behaved so defiantly, but once I start, I cannot stop. “Elizabeth, what has come over you?” She throws balled fists down on her thick skirts.
    Hadrian commands, “Leave her, Jacquelyn! I will not tolerate such disobedience! I will not stand for it!” He sees my mother’s hesitation. “She’s steeped in plague now. Who knows what filth she’s waded in to drag out these miserable creatures? Bringing her with us now could be a death sentence!”
    Mother turns back to him. “Should you at least open the house for her?”
    Hadrian shakes his head with stern speed. “And leave my estate open for all the scourge in Cheapside to enter? No, she can find shelter with the nuns.”
    Mother reaches around to hold her veil in front of her face, pulls out the few coins she has, puts them in my hand, careful not to make direct contact. She looks me in the eyes and says, “Foolish child.”
    Mother walks back to Hadrian’s outstretched hand and is lifted up to her seat. They start away, leaving us helplessly in the middle of the empty street. I go up to the house and hit the iron latch to open the door, but it’s bolted shut, and I have no key. Hadrian has locked the house up tight. I stare down at the sorry-looking children scratching their heads, which are full of lice, I’m sure. I give them both the last loaf.
    At that moment, the abbey bells ring out purely. I grab the boys’ hands and walk toward the crumbling stone abbey outside of the city.

Chapter 5
    Oliver and I take turns carrying Rowan, who is exhausted from his high fever.
    “How old are you, Oliver?” I ask as he pants, trying to carry Rowan as long as he can to help me.
    “My birthday passed a month ago.” He heaves the slumped Rowan up higher. “I’m seven.”
    “I thought you were eight or nine!”
    He looks up, and his indigo eyes sparkle proudly. We reach the abbey and walk through the open doors to the chapel.
    The pews have been cleared to the side of the vast, high-ceilinged room. Bodies are everywhere, in every state of agony. The smell of the plague lifts into our noses, and Oliver holds tight to my dress as I take Rowan. The sick are everywhere, but there are no nuns to be seen. We stand there, waiting for someone to come and help us, while people cry out in the delirium that only high fever causes, crying either for water or loved ones, and some simply incoherent.
    Right as I am thinking of leaving the horrible place, a nun in full habit comes hustling from outside with two buckets of water hanging off a stick on her shoulders. She puts the buckets down, takes a dipper, and proceeds to fill a wooden goblet repeatedly, while delivering it to each parched mouth. She is so busy and dedicated to the saintly task, she doesn’t see us standing there. After she has reached every thirsty soul, she stands up and looks satisfied with the way the sick have settled down. She spins around to grab a pile of cloths and dumps them in one of the buckets. Pulling each one out, she wrings them and places them on every fevered forehead. I know she is never going to stop her chores and notice us, so I step carefully around the bodies lying on rags on the floor and surprise her.
    “Sister—”
    She jumps and grabs her chest.
    “Sister, I am sorry to startle you, but I need your assistance. These children have been orphaned, their mother died, and their father