by Cross, Amy
“Are you sure?”
I still can't believe that this is true.
“I doubt there are too many young women with that name in Southern California,” she points out. “By all accounts, your sister has spent the past hundred days with a small group who traveled slowly north. Eventually they met up with some others and holed up in a remote town, and waited for help. I don't know the details, but it sounds as if your sister and her friends managed to avoid getting into too much trouble.”
“So where exactly is she now?” I ask.
“At one of the processing centers,” she replies. “They're quite organized out there in California at the moment, Thomas. They haven't had to deal with the infighting that's going on here, so they've been able to restore at least some of the infrastructure. Apparently they're already working on power generation again. I imagine that your sister, if she's anything like you, is contributing a great deal.” She pauses. “I'm sorry I can't set up a way for you to talk to her right now, but I'm reliably informed that she's all in one piece. She's been told that you're here and that you're alive, and I imagine that you'll be able to speak to her by radio some time in the next few days. Airtime's hard to come by, but it might be possible to get you a few minutes. If I can pull a few more strings, that is.”
“And she's alive?” I stammer. “She's really, truly alive?”
“I need you to promise me something,” she adds. “If you tell other people about your sister, they might get demoralized. After all, not everyone can be this lucky. Please, just keep it to yourself for now. Can you promise me that?”
I pause, before nodding.
“I knew you'd be pleased,” she says, but then I see a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Thomas, I also have some bad news. It seems that there was a group of survivors out at Lake Erie, but that they were attacked by helicopters sent from somewhere. From Boston, I imagine. Anyway, from what I gather everyone there was killed.”
“I was there for the helicopters,” I tell her. “There were three of them, but Melissa and Katie survived.”
“Thomas,” she sighs, “I think you need to -”
“No, they survived!” I say firmly. “I know it sounds crazy, but they really did! It was chaos but they made it through!”
“There were further attacks,” she explains. “After you left them. The helicopters have been flying out from Boston almost constantly over the past month, killing pockets of survivors wherever they find them. It seems the leadership in Boston assume that most people are infected. The only reason they haven't tried to attack us yet is that we've established communication, and or now they think they might be able to manipulate us. No-one's safe from them, though. They're merciless in their aggression, and when the time comes we're going to have to take them down. But the people around the Lake Erie area weren't so lucky.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean that your friends Melissa and Katie are almost certainly dead.”
“No, they would have survived,” I tell her.
“Men from Boston killed them,” she explains. “Now do you understand why it's important that we capture that city? Whatever's going on in Boston, the people in charge there are murderers. They murdered your friends and they'll murder us, too, if we stand in their way. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you about your friends, but I thought you'd appreciate the honesty. I don't want to sugar-coat anything for you, Thomas.”
“They might have escaped,” I suggest, although I can hear the sense of desperation in my own voice now. I know I'm clutching at straws. “Melissa was smart, and she was fast. She'd have managed to find a place to hide, to keep herself and Katie safe.”
“From what I hear, that's highly unlikely.”
“You don't know them. I do! They'll be fine. They'd have...”
My voice trails off.
“They'd have found a way,” I add finally, even though deep down I'm not sure I believe that anymore. “They'd have figured out some kind of...”
Again, I fall silent.
“No-one survived, Thomas,” Carter says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “The men from Boston killed them. At least you know that your sister's alive. That gives you some hope for the road ahead, doesn't it?” She pauses, staring at me as if she's trying to analyze my reaction. “By the time we've overrun Boston,” she adds, “I should be able to get your sister Martha brought here to join us. You'll have a grand family reunion, and you can start rebuilding. Just as soon as we've taken Boston. You understand that, Thomas, don't you?”
“Why would anyone kill the people at Lake Erie?” I ask, with tears in my eyes. “They weren't hurting anyone. They just needed help.”
“Power,” she replies. “That's all there is to it. The people in Boston want to seize power, and they're exterminating anyone who stands in their way. Killing people, even weak people, is a way of showing strength. They're getting more powerful by the day, but we've built a coalition that's going to take them down.” She squeezes my shoulder. “We're going to avenge all the people they've killed, including your friends, and then we're going to start a new chapter in which families are reunited and a stronger, better future can be built. You're with us on that, Thomas, aren't you?”
“I...”
For a moment, all I can think about is Melissa and Katie, and all the other people at Lake Erie. I want to believe that they're okay, but at the same time I have no reason to doubt Carter's version of events. I want to hold out hope for a miracle, but I've believed in miracles before and they didn't come true. I even managed to hallucinate George, only for that illusion to fall away. I don't want to waste time on any more illusions, not now. And the prospect of seeing Martha again is enough to keep me going.
“If it helps,” Carter says, heading back to one of the benches, “I've been examining the tissue that I extracted from that zombie earlier. Sorry, what did you say her name was, again?”
“Who?” I ask, before realizing what she means. “Jane. Her name was Jane.”
“I've been examining the tissue from Jane,” she continues, “and I've learned a great deal. As your shoulder wound suggested, some people have a natural resistance to the virus. In other words, Thomas, we're the chosen ones. Regardless of whether you believe in God or genetics, we're the ones who have survived and now we have to seize our chance. First, though, we have to destroy the cancer that's growing in Boston. Are you with us in that task, or are you against us?”
I pause for a moment, and in my mind's eye I can't help imagining Melissa and Katie running from the helicopters, and then shots being fired and their bodies falling to the ground.
“I'm with you,” I whisper, before turning to Carter. “Those people in Boston have to pay for all the innocent people they've killed.”
2pm
Elizabeth
“You said Mom was in a taxi,” I say cautiously, watching Dad's face as he in turns stares back at me. We're in one of the bunk rooms, which is empty since everyone else is out on duty. “You said she turned into one of those things, and that she was...”
My voice trails off for a moment.
Even though I wasn't there when Mom died, I have a really strong mental image of her trapped in a taxi. I imagine her falling sick, then returning later as one of those creatures. Eventually soldiers found her and eliminated her. That image has been going around and around in my head for so long now, even haunting my nightmares. Yet now it seems that things might not have happened that way at all.
“You said she was dealt with,” I add finally, as I feel tears in my eyes.
“Most of what I told you was true,” he says, “up until that point. After that, however, it gets a little more difficult. A team did indeed find your mother in a taxi, and she had indeed become one of those things. But somehow during the encounter, she got a jump on one of the soldiers.”
I wait for him to continue.
“What does that mean?” I ask cautiously.
“It means she attacked him.”
I flinch.
“Mom wouldn't do that,” I tell him.
“It wasn't really her, not by that point.”
“Mom wouldn't attack someone!”
“It wasn't really -”
“She wouldn't!” I yell.
He sighs.
“I don't know why, but you're lying,” I continue. “You have to be. You always lie.”
“Your mother was last seen stumbling away from that taxi,” he explains, and now he looks as if he too is on the verge of breaking down. “After that, there was a clean-up operation that got rid of most of the zombies, but nobody had time to stop and catalog them all. A few escaped. They left the city and wandered into areas that still haven't been reclaimed. If it's any consolation, Elizabeth, any of the zombies from the initial outbreak would now be in a very bad state. They might even have become immobile.”
“So you mean...”
Staring at him, I feel a sense of nausea in the pit of my belly as I realize what he's suggesting.
“So you mean,” I say cautiously, struggling to keep from bursting into tears, “that she might still be out there somewhere? As a zombie?”
“It's highly likely that she was destroyed in the initial round-up.”
“But you don't know that for sure.”
He pauses, before shaking his head.
“And you can never know that,” I continue. “Not until those other areas have been checked.”
“The zombies in those areas will be destroyed,” he replies.
“You mean killed?”
“There's really nothing that can be done for them, other than putting them out of their misery. They'll be eliminated and then burnt. Checking them all, one by one, would simply be too draining on resources and too dangerous. At some point, we all have to make decisions that we'd maybe prefer we didn't have to make.”
“But what if Mom's still out there?”
“You have to accept the uncertainty, Lizzie. We're never going to know for sure.”
“What if there's a cure?” I ask.
“There's no cure.”
“But what if she's still in there?” I continue. “What if some part of her is still in the zombie? Has anyone tried turning them back, making them people again?”
“That is never going to happen, Lizzie.”
“You can't just leave her out there!” I snap, sniffing back tears. “We have to find her! We have to know what happened to her! We have to know for sure!”
“We can't!” he replies, and now he sounds angry as well. “That's what I'm trying to get you to understand, Lizzie! It's the uncertainty! We're not going to get answers to all these things. Your aunt Elaine, your cousins in Utah, your old friends from school... You're probably never going to find out what happened to them, and you have to live with that uncertainty instead of letting it eat away at you.”
I shake my head.
“We can find Mom,” I tell him. “We can bring her back.”
“No-one's going to find her,” he replies. “She's gone.”
“But there's a chance!”
“I don't even know why Diane told you,” he continues. “I told her about your mother in strict confidence.”
“Diane didn't tell me,” I reply. “Not about Mom. Not directly, anyway. She told me another of your dirty little secrets.”
“What secrets?”
“Were you having an affair with Diane Clark before all of this happened?” I ask.
He freezes, and in that instant I see the answer in his eyes.
“Where are you getting that from?” he asks cautiously.
“Save it,” I reply, feeling as if I want to hit him. “I already know that it's true. I guess at least now I know why you're not too fussed about finding Mom. It must be easier for you if she's out of the picture.”
“That's completely unfair,” he says sternly.
“It's completely true!” I reply, stepping toward him. “Mom's out of the way, and that's convenient for you because it means you don't have to tell her that you're a lying, cheating -”
Suddenly he slaps me, and I take a step back in shock.
“You don't know anything,” he says, his eyes filled with a kind of white-hot anger. “You're a twenty-two-year-old girl who acts like she's barely into her teens. You run around this place telling everyone that you don't want special treatment because of who you are, when the truth is you've received nothing but special treatment! And you most assuredly do not know anything about your mother and me!”
“I go out on that platform every night with a gun!” I stammer, my voice trembling as tears start running down my face.
“And then what do you do?”
“I sleep, I eat, I...”
“Most people here have three, maybe four jobs. We're in a dorm room right now, Lizzie, but do you see people sleeping? No, because they're all out doing other things. Even your ratty friend Natalie pulls her weight. Meanwhile, you do one job during the night and then you're free to wander around amusing yourself the rest of the time.”
I shake my head.
“I keep trying to get you to work with me in the offices,” he replies, “because I'm hoping that at least there you might be useful.”
“I shot someone last night,” I remind him.
“And now you think you're special?” he asks, stepping toward me again. “Everyone else here has shot a lot more than just one person, Lizzie, and they didn't have a goddamn meltdown each time! They just reloaded and waited to do it again, because that's how the world is right now!”
I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I can only stare at him with a growing sense of horror.
“I do my best,” I manage finally. “I'll do more.”
“If you'd just stayed put in the apartment in Manhattan,” he replies, “you'd have been fine. Your one job was to look after your brother, and you couldn't even -”
He stops suddenly.
“I couldn't what?” I ask, although I already know what he was going to say.
“Forget it,” he sighs. “This conversation has gone horribly wrong, Lizzie, and I think we should both take some time to cool off. Meanwhile, I'll pull you from guard duty and have you reassigned to the offices, where you genuinely might be able to make a real contribution. Frankly, you were a danger out there anyway.”
“I want to stay on guard duty,” I reply. “I want to do double shifts. Or triple! I don't even need to sleep!”
“I should have taken you off guarding a while ago,” he says. “The others have complained that you're a distraction. Even your buddy Natalie put in a request for you to be moved on, but I insisted that you had to be given more chances. So there's your special treatment right there.” He sighs again. “It'll be fine, sweetheart,” he adds, before reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. “Now that this is out in the open, we can -”
“Don't touch me!” I shout, pulling away from him.
“I'm sorry I slapped you,” he replies, “that was unconscionable.”
“Maybe I should have become one of those zombies too,” I suggest. “That would have been easier for you.”
“Don't say that,” he replies. “We're family, Lizzie. You're all I have left and I love you.”
“You have Diane Clark,” I point out, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. “You have your job. You have a world to help rebuild. Maybe you don't even need a family. I'm so sorry that we didn't all conveniently shuffle off and leave you free to do whatever you want.”
“Let's take some time,” he replies, “and not say anything else that we might regret. You look exhausted, Lizzie. When was the last time you slept?”
“That doesn't matter,” I tell him. “I don't want any more -”
And then I see her.
The girl in the white dress, walks past the open doorway. She's only visible for a couple of seconds, but in that time she manages to briefly turn and look straight at me, and our gazes meet. She looks calm, not angry at all, and there'
s blood on one side of her heed. Then she's gone, but I realize after a moment that I can hear her footsteps heading further and further away along the corridor.
“Did you see her?” I ask.
“Who?” Dad replies.
I push past him and hurry to the doorway, and then I look out and see that the corridor is empty. The sound of footsteps is gone, but I swear I heard that girl.
“Lizzie, you're starting to worry me,” Dad says. “I've already received reports that your behavior is causing concern today. Let me take you to get checked out, okay? You've been through a hell of a lot, and I think maybe the strain is getting to you.” He puts a hand on my shoulder from behind. “There's no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed, sweetheart. I'm sorry about what I said just now, I didn't mean those things. Let me help you.”
I pause, before turning to him.
“Rachel,” I say after a moment.
“What?”
“You told me Rachel was evacuated to Philadelphia.”
“There was a -”
“Was that a lie?” I ask, interrupting him. I wait, watching his face for some hint of an answer that I can believe.
“Lizzie -”
“Was that another lie?” I ask, and now my voice is trembling with fear. “Was it just something you told me to make me feel better?”
“Rachel was moved to the Philadelphia facility,” he says cautiously, but I can tell that he's choosing his words with great care.
“And there's been no update since?”
“I haven't spoken to them very much. When I have, we've had other things to discuss.”
“But she's safe, right?” I continue, still hoping that I can believe him. “Rachel is safe and healthy.”
“As far as I know, yes. I can certainly check during my next dispatch to the team over there. Would you like me to do that?”
“I would,” I reply, and then I take a step back. “I'll be fine, just so long as you can get me an update on Rachel's condition.”
“Of course,” he says. “You do believe me, Lizzie, don't you? I'm not lying to you, not about this. No more lies, I promise.”