Free Quarantine by Jim Crace

hoped to make his peace with god and with
    himself, of course. But most of all he hoped for miracles, that all
    the fasting and the prayers would make him well again. Tranquillity
    was easy to acquire, compared to that. He had a growth, he said.
    'A living thing, inside of me. No one could worship that. Bigger
    than my fist.' He showed his fist, and pointed at his side. 'You can
    feel how hard it is.' He waited for a volunteer to press a finger into
    his side. Shim leaned forward on to his braided legs, put his finger
    on the growth, and nodded: 'Like you say,' he said.
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    'Come on.' Aphas waved the badu over, and called to him in
    both Greek and Aramaic, and then translated it into finger-mime.
    'Feel this. '
    The badu sprang on to his feet and padded over as nimbly
    and as silently as a cat, grinning all the time. He lifted up the
    mason's shirt. Marta could see the stomach was distended. The
    skin was stretched. It looked as if the old man had an extra
    knee-cap placed between his thigh bone and his ribs. The badu
    spat out pebbles, laughed, and cupped the growth in the flat of
    his hand. He shook his head from side to side. He tapped the
    cancer with his fingertips and put his ear to Aphas's chest and
    grabbed hold of his hand. Nothing that he did made any sense.
    Aphas had to tug quite hard before the badu would let go. He
    wanted sympathy, or miracles, not this.
    'He doesn't understand a word of it,' Aphas said, retreating
    into chatter as he'd done for all his life. His nose was running
    and his eyes were wet. 'Here, Master Shim, this fellow's yours.
    You love all living things, you said. Love him.' He forced a
    laugh and wiped his eyes. He then repeated what he'd said,
    almost word for word . . . 'Love him, I said.' He turned to Marta,
    only looking for a nod or smile from her to rescue him from his
    embarrassment. She laughed for reasons of her own. Her three
    companions were absurd. Even the honey-head. Perhaps he was
    the maddest of them all.
    They had hardly noticed that the sun was up and their forty
    days were underway. But soon - once Shim and Aphas had
    agreed that everyone would gather at dusk when they would
    light a communal fire and break their fast with Marta's scrub
    fowl and the free food of the wilderness if any could be caught
    or found - they fell silent, even Aphas. They concentrated on
    themselves. Finally, they sought the shade and privacy of their
    caves. The badu wandered along the scarp, crying out and
    kneeling down once in a while to pick up stones. Marta was
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    relieved to stay alone, sitting in the sun, counting seeds. The
    birds that had been waiting in the thorns flocked back into
    the water, dipping beaks and wings. But very soon they were
    outnumbered. The water in the cistern smelled so mossy and
    the birds, excited by the unexpected boon of water, sang so
    unremittingly, that every living creature in the hills could smell
    and hear the summons to drink.
    Swag flies, mud wasps and fleas blistered the surface of the
    water, dipping their bodies at both ends; one dip to drink and
    one to drop a line of eggs. Centipedes and millipedes, lonely
    lovers of the damp, gathered at the edges of the cistern in rare
    communion. Whip bugs and round worms celebrated in the
    mud. And slugs and snails, descending to the water and
    the bobbing body of a roach, signed the stones and rubble of the
    gravesides with their mucous threads. Star lizards blinked and
    turned their flattened heads in search of easy food. Overhead
    and in the thorns, more birds were gathering to breakfast on the
    throng.
    Marta was still reluctant to go back to the cave. She hoped
    the little woman would return: 'Hello, it's me. The woman
    yesterday.' But all she saw were birds and insects, drawn to the
    water in the cistern. She was drawn as well. She went to watch
    them drinking and, perhaps, to catch a second bird. Her shadow
    fell across the grave. Again the birds shook out their wings and
    fled. She ducked and dodged.