Mass Extinction Event (Book 11): Days 349 to 356

by Cross, Amy

  Yeah.

  Sure.

  That'll work.

  I pause for a moment longer, and then I turn the key in the ignition.

  Nothing.

  Okay, I guess I was naive to think that my first attempt at starting the boat would be a success. I take a look at the control panel, and then I flick a few random switches, and then I re-try the key.

  Nothing.

  Okay, so I need to experiment a little.

  I start trying the switches systematically, figuring that eventually I'll come to the correct settings. I mean, I assumed that starting a boat would be difficult, but this is proving to be quite a challenge. After a few minutes, I start wondering whether maybe there's something somewhere else on the boat that needs adjusting, but I don't see why that would be necessary, so I force myself to keep trying. I've never given up on a task yet, and I'm not about to start now. One way or another, I am going to get this boat started, even if it takes the rest of the day. I've faced a whole lot of challenges over the past year, and I've risen to them all. This one is going to be no different.

  Finally, after maybe another thirty minutes or so, I hear a loud, heavy clunking sound coming from somewhere deep inside the boat. I look down into the cabin area, and now there's a deeper rumbling noise that seems to be making the entire boat shudder slightly.

  I wait, with my hand on the keys, but the sound continues and a moment later the floor thuds beneath my feet, and the boat pitches a little to the right.

  What did I do?

  I get back to work, but after a few minutes I realize that the boat really seems to be turning now, and that at the same time the front end seems to be getting higher than the rear. I tell myself that this can't be anything serious, that there's no way I've managed to sink the damn thing, but I swear it's as if the rear of the boat is dipping lower and lower. The rumbling sound is continuing, and a moment later I hear water sloshing about in the cabin.

  Sure enough, when I look through the door, I see that water's starting to fill the boat.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, frantically hitting more and more buttons, trying to figure out what I've done wrong, but nothing seems to be working. “Come on, you can do this. Just figure it out, it's not rocket science.”

  Elizabeth

  So the boat sank.

  As I stand on the shoreline, cold and soaking wet after wading back, I stare out at the remains of the boat. The rear section is completely submerged, and the front is jutting out of the water and pointing up toward the sky. Were it not for the fact that the boat represented my best chance of survival, this whole scene would actually be quite comical.

  There's no way I sank the damn thing just by pressing the wrong buttons, so I'm pretty much convinced that the Longford family must have created some kind of anti-theft system. I don't even know how that would have worked, but it was probably set up so that any unauthorized attempt to take the boat would end in disaster, especially if the wannabe thief had no idea what they were doing.

  Either that, or I was just spectacularly bad, maybe with a little sour luck thrown into the mix.

  “Sorry, boat,” I mutter as I turn and carry my bag back up toward the lighthouse.

  ***

  Lifting the shovel, I carry another load of dirt over to the pit. I briefly look down and see that the Longfords' burned corpses are almost completely covered, and then I toss the dirt down.

  My arms are aching real bad, but I have to get this done before sundown. And when I turn to look over my shoulder, I see that the sun is getting dangerously close to the horizon.

  ***

  Night is coming. Again.

  After everything that's happened over the past few days, I'm right back where I started. The Longfords are buried in the garden, their boat is wrecked down in the water, but otherwise nothing much as really changed. Well, except for one thing.

  I still hear Wendy's voice every so often. Not like a hallucination this time, just a memory that's lodged in my brain. A memory that seems to be getting louder and more important with each passing hour. A memory that won't shut up.

  “Now's the time to give up.”

  At the same time, I can't help thinking back to the expression on her face when she shot herself. For a fraction of a second, she looked totally at peace, and I have no doubt that she died thinking that she'd done the right thing. She'd even managed to rationalize the fact that she'd murdered her own husband and daughter. She tried to kill me, too, and yet for some strange reason I can't quite bring myself to hate her.

  What if she was right?

  Putting those thoughts out of my head, I turn and grab the table. While the Longfords were here, I stopped building my little barricade each night, but now I need to get that going again. Not just tonight, but every night, at least until I figure out where I'm going to go next. I can't stay here at the lighthouse forever, but at the same time I don't want to simply walk back the way I came. Four or five months ago, I walked away from the smoldering ruins of New York, and now my only option seems to be to walk straight back in that direction.

  I push the final chair into place, and then I step back and take a look at my work. Sure, I'm pretty good at barricade-building now, but in some ways that's the easy part now. The hard part is figuring out what to do once the barricades are down.

  ***

  Somewhere, far off in the pitch-black lighthouse, something's dripping. I came here to the corner of the main room, hoping to rest for a few hours. I can't allow myself to fall asleep, of course, even though I was awake all day. I'm exhausted but also wired, and now something's dripping and I feel as if I'm going to scream.

  On the opposite side of the room, moonlight streams through a window. I can see the branches of a bush swaying gently in the breeze.

  There's been no rain for a few days, so why should anything be dripping? Whatever it is, it sounds far away and high up, but I think it's somewhere inside the lighthouse. I look up, but all I see is the spiral staircase winding its way toward the upper levels. Why does something have to be dripping now, when I most need to be able to concentrate and -

  Suddenly I hear a scratching sound. Something's at the window, and I feel a moment of panic before I remember that there was a branch tip that was causing the sound the other day. Didn't I snap that off? It's hard to remember, but I think I did, although I guess another could have grown a little closer since then. Why didn't I just pull the whole damn bush away from the window?

  The scratching continues.

  It's not a zombie, it's just a branch. I keep telling myself that, and I remind myself that there's no need to go and check, yet at the same time I can't help worrying that somehow a zombie has reached the lighthouse.

  Finally, even though I know that I'm being foolish, I haul myself up and start limping over to the window. My heart is racing and my chest feels tight, and it feels as if my mind simply can't force my body to accept that there's no danger. As I get closer and closer to the window, I see moonlight catching the smeared dirt that clings to the glass, and I look for some sign of the branch's tip reaching out. The scratching sound has stopped for a moment, even as the drip continues, and finally I reach the window and look out at the dark, windy night.

  “Elizabeth!”

  Suddenly Sammy stumbles into view, bumping against the window and pressing a hand against the glass as her rotten, burned face twists into a rictus of pain.

  “Come out!” she gasps. “You have to come with us!”

  Gasping, I take a step back, but then I turn as I hear something slamming against the door. The barricade is shuddering but, for now, the chairs and tables are staying in place.

  “Elizabeth, it's the only way!” Wendy's voice shouts. “There's nothing to be scared of! We'll show you the way!”

  “She's right!” Patrick calls out, as they continue to try to force their way through the door. “You've already been like us once! You were so close to achieving perfection, but it's okay! You get another chance! You get
to be one with us again!”

  “Hurry!” Wendy yells. “You're wasting time! Let's go!”

  “You're not real,” I whisper through clenched teeth. “There's no -”

  Before I can finish, glass shatters nearby and I turn just as Sammy reaches through and grabs my arm. I instantly try to pull away, but her grip is too strong.

  “It's okay!” she stammers with a hideous, rotten smile. “I'd be scared too, but I promise you, it's not how it looks! Once you get past the fear, everything's perfect!”

  “No!” I shout, grabbing her arm and trying to pull free.

  As I twist and turn, I start scraping her wrist against the broken glass that's left in the window. Sammy's starting to laugh now, but I can hear the barricade starting to fall and I know I have to get away. I slam the wrist against the glass over and over, until finally the bone breaks and the rotten flesh tears, and I fall back. Landing hard on the floor, I find that the severed hand is still firmly attached to my arm, but at least I'm free.

  “You'll end up like us anyway,” Sammy snarls, as I look back up at the window. “Everyone does. What makes you think that you're special? Billions and billions of people across the planet have already died. How many do you think are left alive? A few million? A few thousand? You're not some brilliant survivor, Elizabeth. You're nothing. You're nobody. Why not just accept the inevitable now and get it over with?”

  I stare at her for a moment, and then suddenly the severed hand lets go of my arm and jumps up, grabbing my face. I scream as I fall back, but I'm able to pull the hand away and throw it across the room. Scrambling up, breathless and terrified, I look over at the window again and I see that Sammy is gone.

  I look at the door, where the barricade is still mostly intact. There's no sound of anyone trying to smash through the door, but I still don't quite dare believe that this nightmare is over.

  Taking a step back, I gasp as I bump against someone who's standing right behind me. I slowly turn, as the dripping sound gets louder, and then I feel my heart break as I see the rotten, zombified face staring straight at me from the darkness.

  “It's okay,” Toad growls, barely able to get the words out. “Don't be scared. Join us.”

  I scream again, but in an instant I feel the world spin around and I suddenly find that I'm flat on my back. Sitting up, I look around, but there's no-one here and a moment later I see that the glass in the window is intact. The dripping sound continues as I haul myself up, and then I look the other way as I start to realize that the zombies were just a dream. Even Toad.

  “Damn it,” I whisper, still horrified by the sight of Toad's face, and by the feeling that – even for a second, even in a dream – I was with him again.

  “Join us,” I hear his voice saying, echoing in my head. “Join me.”

  I want to.

  I want to go to wherever Toad is right now.

  Suddenly, realizing that the dripping sound has changed, I turn and look toward the window, and I see that a bright light is blasting through and catching the wooden frame. The sound is less of a drip now, and more of a regular whooshing and thumping noise, and as I limp over to the window I realize that something's outside. The bush is swaying wildly in some fresh, strong wind, and finally I peer outside and see to my horror what's happening.

  A helicopter is landing on the grass.

  Elizabeth

  Two men. No, three. No, four now. They're getting out of the helicopter as the blades continue to roar, and now the men are coming this way.

  “Please be a dream,” I whisper as I take a step back from the window. “This can't be real.”

  A moment later, someone tries to open the door, but the barricade keeps them out. They try again, then again, and then finally I hear footsteps and voices outside. Looking over at the window, I spot a figure out there, wearing some kind of mask. He's looking through and he must have seen me.

  Suddenly somebody knocks on the door.

  I spin around, and then I reach down and start pinching my arm.

  “It's just a dream,” I stammer. “It has to be a dream.”

  The knocking continues, becoming louder now until it turns into a series of loud thuds. And then, just as I start trying to figure out how I'm going to get out of here, I hear a voice calling out.

  “Elizabeth!” a man yells. “Elizabeth Marter! Are you in there?”

  I turn and look at the window, where the masked man is still staring in at me. For a moment, in my manic, sleepless state, all I can think is that these people are here to kill me.

  “Elizabeth Marter, we know you're here! We need you to come out! Your father sent us to fetch you!”

  My father?

  No, that can't be true. And then, looking over at the counter, I see the broken tracking device that Wendy destroyed earlier today.

  “Elizabeth, please,” the voice calls out, “we need to get out of here! There isn't much time! Your father's waiting for you!”

  The door shudders, and one of the chairs falls away from the barricade. Panicking, I rush over and force it back into place, and then I start pressing my body against the main table that's helping to keep the door shut. I can hear several voices outside, and the helicopter's engines are still running, but all I know is that there's no way I can let these people into the lighthouse. They're just more monsters, like the zombie versions of the Longford family, like the horrible vision of Toad, and letting them in would mean giving up.

  “Can't we just break the door down?” I hear another voice asking.

  “We were specifically told that we're not to use force with her,” a third voice explains. “Then again, I don't think Marter thought we'd have any trouble getting her to come with us.”

  “Ms. Marter!” the first voice calls out again, banging on the door. “My name is Alex Sims, I'm with the Project Atherius team based in Philadelphia! Listen, I get it. You're scared. I'm sure you've been through a hell of a lot, and you just want to hide away, but that's not an option. Your father, John Marter, specifically sent us out here to extract you and take you back to a secure location. I'm sorry, that's really all I can tell you, but I'm sure your father will give you a lot more information once you see him. Please, I need you to come with us.”

  “Go away,” I whisper, as I look around and try to figure out what I can use as a weapon. “Come on, wake up,” I continue, hoping that my subconscious mind will listen. “Let me out of here.”

  “So what are we supposed to do,” the second voice asks, “go back empty-handed? Are you seriously saying that we flew two hundred miles, just to pick up some kid, and now we have to just give up? Let's just smash the door down and do whatever's necessary.”

  “Marter wouldn't like that,” the first voice says.

  “Marter's not the one who just had to travel out here in that cramped thing.”

  “Elizabeth,” the first voice continues, “I'm begging you, at least come out so that we can talk to you.”

  “Leave me alone!” I yell, before I really have time to figure out whether or not that's a good idea. “Go away!”

  “Elizabeth -”

  “I'm not going anywhere with you!” I continue. “I know you're not real! I know this is all in my head! If I open this door, you'll just turn into zombies, but I'm not giving up!” There are tears streaming down my face as I look over at the spot where – in my dream – Toad was standing. “I'm not falling for it again,” I add. “There's no way I'm ever going to go anywhere with you, so you should just stop trying!”

  “Break the door down!” a voice barks.

  “No!” the other voice says firmly. “Look, this is a massive fuck-up, but I'm not going against Marter's orders. Remember what happened to the last guy who tried that?”

  “Sure, but -”

  “We'll go back and tell him what happened. If he wants to send another team out here, he can, but I'd rather play things safe. We got a positive sighting of the girl, didn't we?”

  “Affirmative,” another voic
e replies.

  “Then I'm in command of this mission, and I've made my decision. If Marter gets his panties in a twist over this, I'll take full responsibility, but I'm pretty sure he'll appreciate that we're doing everything by the book. Everyone, get back to the chopper.”

  Still pushing against the barricade, in case all this talk turns out to be a trick, I listen to the sound of footsteps hurrying away. I know this has to be another dream, but frankly at the moment it's hard to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Is this what it's like when people start losing their minds? Am I going to end up cowering and shuddering in the corner?

  “This is your last chance to do the smart thing,” the first voice says. “Elizabeth, your father's going to be very disappointed if we go back without you. This would all be so much easier if you just got past your fears and accepted that we're here to help you. Can you do that, Elizabeth? Can you be brave?”

  “Go to hell!” I shout.

  “Your father wouldn't have sent us all this way if he didn't -”

  “Go to hell!” I shout again. “I'm not listening! You're wasting your time! Leave me alone!”

  I wait, but all I hear in response is the sound of one final set of footsteps walking away. Still pushing against the barricade, I don't dare to pull back, even as I finally hear the sound of the helicopter taking off. The bright light fades into the distance, but I still hear the helicopter's blades for a few more minutes until finally I'm once again left all alone in silence.

  “Are you still out there?” I shout, in case this is a trick.

  There's no reply, and finally I step back and take a deep breath. There's no way Dad's tracking device could have worked, even before it was destroyed by Wendy Longford, and I'm not going to let illusions and delusions fill my mind. I already got plucked to safety by Dad once before, back in the first couple of months of this madness, and there's no way anything like that is going to happen again. I just need to find a way to get through these interminably long night, because I know that I'm alright once the sun comes up.