The Remaining: Extinction

by D. J. Molles

  Tomlin balled his fists and knelt down at Abe’s side. “He’s gonna die, Lee. You don’t want that. If we turn it on and it’s not your GPS, you have my full backing to execute Abe. But right now all we know is that he risked his life for this shit. Save him now and we’ll figure it out later.”

  Lee stood there thinking, Maybe I do want it. Maybe that’s exactly what I want. People have died because of the decisions that Abe made. Good people. My people. The people I’m supposed to protect. Can you absolve all of that by bringing me the fucking GPS?

  Tomlin turned Abe over, inspecting the heavily bleeding wound in his left shoulder. Then he looked up. “Lee! Let’s fucking go!”

  Lee stuffed the GPS into his cargo pocket, still in pieces. He made sure that his pocket was closed and buttoned. He felt like he was carrying something precious. Like he had just tossed a priceless diamond into his pants pocket. It didn’t seem like it was enough. He wanted to put it in a guarded vault. Having it again only refreshed the nightmare of possibly losing it.

  When it was secure in his pocket, he pointed at Abe. “Cut those clothes away. Find the wound. We’ll need to stabilize before we move him out of here.” Then he stooped and began snatching up a few medical supplies he’d seen fall out of the pack. Some gauze, some bandages, some medical tape. That was as good a wound treatment as Abe was going to get right now.

  And if his words didn’t turn out to be the sparkling, golden truth, Lee was going to finish what was started.

  When they had his wound wrapped up, they hauled Abe’s limp body out toward the edge of the woods where they could see the two tan buildings rising up out of the forest. A hundred yards inside the edge of the pine trees, Lee could see men gathered around where he’d left Lucas’s body. As Lee and Tomlin came into sight, both huffing and chuffing as they struggled with their unwieldy burden, two of the soldiers broke off from the huddle and ran to help them the rest of the way.

  At the tree, Lucas’s body lay staring blankly at the sky, his skin even paler than usual and bloodless. Lax in only the way that a dead man’s face can be. And Lee tried not to feel the hard heaviness of that death, but it found a way into his chest anyway, like it was constricting his rib cage. An invisible pressure.

  I couldn’t help what happened. He forced me into it. He forced my hand.

  But I still feel… unjustified.

  A medic was there, or at least someone that filled that role. He was putting his instruments back into his pack, clearly having done what he could for Lucas. Brinly was also there, along with Carl and a few others that Lee did not recognize.

  Lee and Tomlin set Abe down in front of the medic.

  “He’s still alive, but fading,” Tomlin said, breathing hard. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Gunshot wound in the shoulder. I think it may have clipped the axillary.”

  The medic gave Abe a quick looking over, pulling Lee and Tomlin’s impromptu bandage work away to inspect the entry wound to the top of the shoulder. He shook his head. “Maybe. But I think if he’d clipped the axillary he wouldn’t have gotten that far. Still… no exit wound. Could be in his chest. He might have internal bleeding as well.” He looked up at Carl as he pressed his fingers in for a pulse. “He doesn’t look great. He’s gonna need to get to the infirmary or he’s fucked.”

  Carl looked down at Abe and Lee could sense the coldness in his gaze. Then he looked up at Lee. “Three of my guys are dead. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”

  Tomlin raised his hand. “Carl, we don’t have time for this right now.”

  Carl looked at him. “Explain to me why he deserves to live.”

  Tomlin licked his lips. “If it were you sitting in one of those detention cells, what would you have done? Would you sit there, Carl? Would you sit and wait to find out what was going to happen? Or would you try to escape? Wouldn’t you kill your captors? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do if we get the chance?”

  Carl scratched at the bald spot on top of his head, looking down at Abe’s body with a grimace.

  “Get him help,” Lee said quietly. “They risked their lives to bring me something. If it is what I think it is… it could be well worth it.”

  “Worth three of my men’s lives?” Carl asked.

  Lee nodded without hesitation. “Worth enough to keep the rest of us alive.”

  Another moment’s thought. On the ground, Abe started to make an unpleasant breathing noise. The medic looked up at Carl. He probably didn’t care whether or not Abe lived, but he knew that if the decision was made to keep him alive, then they would need to do something immediately.

  “Fine.” Carl nodded. “Get him to the infirmary.” Four men stepped forward, each grabbing a limb and lifting Abe up smoothly, jogging for one of the pickup trucks. Carl started walking, but looked over his shoulder at Lee. “I need a better explanation, though.”

  Lee pointed for the helicopter. “I’ll explain on the way back to Camp Ryder.”

  “That your way of asking for a ride?”

  Lee stopped and looked at Carl. “You got a fucking bone to pick, that’s just fine. Pick away. But I ain’t got time for dick measuring right now. We’re either on the same team and working to survive, or we all might as well lay back and enjoy the last week we got until we’re completely overrun. You want to survive? You want your people to survive? I know I do. I know I have people counting on me, just like you have them counting on you, just like Colonel Staley and Brinly have people counting on them. You wanna be a part of the team or should we end this relationship right now?”

  Carl clearly didn’t like the tone, but he was smart enough to hear the words. He glanced at Tomlin, a look that said, We might be friends, but I’m not sure about this guy you brought me to. But eventually he nodded and started walking for the helicopter again. “Your point is made, Captain. Let’s get going, if it’s that goddamned urgent.”

  “It is,” Lee assured him. “I promise you it is.”

  Nate and Devon pulled up to the gates of Camp Ryder at nine o’clock in the morning. They’d left their hiding place in the woods just outside of Fort Bragg several hours earlier, making their way to the pickup truck that they’d stashed among all the other abandoned vehicles and pulling quickly out onto the road. They had hiked in complete silence, grim expressions on their faces. Then in the pickup truck, the only sound was that of the engine roaring. Nate drove, and Devon rode shotgun with his rifle out the window, as usual. Nate knew the way home, and neither needed to stop and converse about how they were going to get there.

  When they pulled up to the gate, they noticed the big tan vehicles that could only be military but were of a make that neither Nate nor Devon was familiar with. The second that Nate saw the vehicles, he slammed on the brakes, fear shooting up his spine, ready for an ambush, for the bullets to start flying. He shoved the truck’s shifter into reverse, and almost slung gravel to put distance between him and the camp, but one of the guards that he knew opened the gate partially and waved.

  Nate opened his mouth, but remained silent.

  Devon had his rifle ready, finger already on the trigger. He spoke the first words of the day: “You think it’s safe? Big fucking vehicle. Never seen that before. Maybe they came in and took over.”

  Nate closed his mouth, causing his teeth to clack. He put the shifter back in drive. “Well…” He eased forward, letting the transmission trundle them slowly toward the gate. “Keep an eye out and be ready. You see something up, we’ll make like rabbits.”

  As he spoke, he scanned all around. Looking for the snipers. For the men about to spring the ambush. For the wires that led to the claymores that would blow their doors off and punch steel balls through their bodies. But everything seemed normal. The man at the gate kept waving them forward.

  By the time the gate was fully open and they were rolling—still cautiously—into Camp Ryder, a few people had gathered to see who the new arrival was. One of the new guards, Brett, saw that it was Nate and Devon and ran bac
k inside the Camp Ryder building, returning a moment later with Angela.

  Nate and Devon met her in the middle, their rifles hanging dejected in their hands. Nate noticed that Lee’s dog, Deuce, was tagging along beside Angela.

  “We lost Tomlin,” Nate said in a low tone. “He tried to make contact, but whoever is running shit at Fort Bragg took him and he didn’t come back out again. He told us to wait a little while and if he didn’t come back for us, to return to Camp Ryder. So here we are.” He glanced down at the dog standing beside Angela and frowned, seeming to notice the dog for the first time. “Where’s Lee?”

  Angela looked at them with slight amusement in her eyes. “Yeah, Lee’s in Fort Bragg right now. Flew out at first light. He’s with Tomlin.”

  Nate and Devon looked at each other, extremely confused.

  “Why’s Deuce still here?”

  Angela shrugged and looked down at the dog, touching the top of his head. “Apparently Deuce is not a big fan of helicopters. He’s been splitting his time between running the fence line and helping me watch Sam and Abby.” She looked up and then motioned for the Camp Ryder building. “Come on. I’ll fill you in while we walk. I’ve got to see to Jenny. She’s taken on a nasty fever right now.” She gave Nate a sidelong glance. “Might need you guys to find me some medication if we can figure what’s wrong with her.”

  “Probably the pneumonia that’s going around,” Devon said offhandedly. “So what the hell is going on?”

  Angela brought them up to speed as they climbed the steps to the building and shoved their way into the doors. The interior was crowded with strangers. Nate almost froze in the doorway, he was so shocked to see that many people hanging around. Angela had to backtrack and explain that as well.

  “Jesus Christ,” Nate griped. “I’m gone for forty-eight hours and everything’s different.”

  The interior of Camp Ryder was a mess of tables and chairs and circles of people sitting on bedrolls and milling about, finishing late breakfasts or scrounging up something to cook for lunch. People that he didn’t recognize. People with hard faces and ragged clothes, worse off than many other groups of survivors Nate had seen. There was also a sense of unpleasantness to them, something just below the surface, and Nate gathered from what Angela told him that there had been a minor run-in with this group, and then an uneasy truce.

  Angela stopped at the stairs, looking up them toward the office. When Nate stood beside her, he saw three men descending the stairs. All three were in uniform. One was old, and the other two were young. They were moving with some urgency in their step, but not quite running.

  As they hit the bottom of the stairs Angela gestured to the older man. Nate knew little of military ranks but it seemed like this man was the one in charge. “Nate, this is Colonel Staley and the Marines I told you about.”

  The older man named Staley gave Nate a curt nod, then turned his attention to Angela. “First Sergeant Brinly just contacted me. Captain Harden and the others are on their way back as we speak, probably within an hour or so. We’re leaving immediately for Lejeune.”

  Angela glanced between the Marines, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, actually.” Staley gave a small smile. “It seems like your Captain Harden has a plan to get us out of this shit storm.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m sure he’ll fill you in.”

  Angela eyed the other man. “I’m sure he will. Travel safe.”

  Staley nodded. “Always.”

  And then he and his Marines were walking on, heading for the doors to the Camp Ryder building. Angela and Nate and Devon watched them go, their expressions matching.

  “A little rude, isn’t he?” Devon asked.

  Angela shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said. “If he’s willing to lend a helping hand, then I won’t turn him away because he’s a little rude.”

  “What was he talking about?” Nate asked.

  Angela started walking again. “I’m not privy. I suppose we’ll find out when Lee gets here.”

  She answered other questions and filled in small gaps from the last two days that Nate and Devon had missed. As she talked, they made their way through the crowd of strangers and into the back of the Camp Ryder building. Finally they came to a blanket that had been laid out and obviously tossed around, but was now sitting empty.

  Angela approached it with her hands lifted in question. “Where the hell did Jenny go?”

  Nate eyed the blankets. “Maybe she’s feeling better.”

  Angela didn’t seem so sure. “Yeah. Maybe she is.”

  Jenny sat in darkness. She had some faraway concept of where she was. She’d been in the place with the people and the stink of them had been both incredibly interesting and incredibly suffocating. The feeling of sickness was beginning to go away, but in its place was rising another feeling. Something very different. Something different from anything she’d felt before.

  The world was becoming strange. All her life it seemed that language had tied everything together. Her thoughts came to her in words and phrases. Things were identified by their English names. Now it seemed that nothing had a name. Words were becoming soft and pliable and difficult to grasp. People were no longer people. They were colors and shapes and smells. The gravel in front of the Camp Ryder building was no longer gravel; it was the hard, painful stuff that smelled of stone.

  Still, there were little spots and moments of clarity that came through to her.

  Inside the place with all of the people, sitting on the soft thing… the soft thing… the thing she couldn’t remember the name of, it had suddenly occurred to her that the strange feeling she had, the one that she had never felt before in her life, was the desire to kill something. There was no simpler way to put it, and those were the words that came to her in that small moment of clarity, though they soon dissolved. And then the same concept rolled through her head, but instead of words, it was understood in the image of her chasing something, the thought of how it would feel between her jaws, the taste of blood, the feeling of its pulse. Some primal connection that she shouldn’t have had.

  The dark place where she now sat was… was…

  Rust blood sharp painful cold hard.

  Hard. Metal. Steel.

  Dark. Dark. Grease and dark. The place where the rolling beasts sleep.

  Garage, she thought, but it didn’t seem right. It smelled like a garage, but that was not where she was. A small space. Not open like the woods and the fields. Confined like a building. Like a small building. Cage. No, not cage. Box. Metal box.

  She saw faces that she knew but had no names. She could see them running from her. They stank like fear in her fevered imaginings. Their fear made her heart race. But she was not afraid. Not afraid of anything. She chased them in her mind. Felt the feeling of them trying to get away. They were people. And they were animals. It made no difference. She wanted to catch something and rip its life out.

  Not you. Sanity like a flickering lightbulb. This is not you. You are not an animal. You don’t want that. You are in the box with all the metal parts because you need to stay there until you can control yourself. Can you control yourself?

  I can’t control myself.

  It’s not me.

  It’s just IT.

  I can’t control IT.

  I don’t want this.

  I don’t want this.

  “Ah doh wan’ dis.” She was terrified of her own voice. The words were thick, her tongue unwieldy. She began to weep, curling into a little ball, closed up inside the shipping container with all the spare engine parts. The same place that Captain Tomlin had been held. The same place that Angela had been held. The place where Jenny was holding herself. But she could not lock herself in. If she wanted out, she would get out.

  She cried for a time, desperately sobbing. In her brain, a tiny organism was eating away her memories and her thoughts and every part of her that made her who she was, and it was leaving very little behind. But she could r
emember Gregg, and though it made no sense to her fast-fading consciousness, the feeling that rose in her when Gregg’s face flashed before her eyes was one of intense desire. And then she saw Lee’s face, saw an image of him, scrambling through the dirt with Gregg, biting at Gregg like an animal and eventually taking the life out of him. Killing Gregg. And the feeling that was left was one of barrenness and bitterness and anger. Lee was an animal, and she was becoming an animal just like him.

  She was becoming an animal.

  SIX

  COORDINATING

  FOR ONCE, LEE LET himself feel hope. It was a cautious hope. A bridge made of old, frayed ropes that had proven itself untrustworthy in the past. But as Carl’s Black Hawk lifted off from Fort Bragg and Lee pulled the disassembled GPS out of his pocket, he wanted it to work so badly that he thought it might just happen. With the bird in the air, roaring toward Camp Ryder, Lee’s sense of urgency was growing right along with his hope that things would work out.

  He reconnected the device’s wires to the battery pack, and then seated the whole power assembly back into the guts of the device. He snapped the cover back on. Then he turned the screen to face him.

  Tomlin huddled close, looking over his shoulder.

  Across from them sat Brinly, Carl, and two of the Fort Bragg soldiers.

  Lee glanced up, a little nervously. “Moment of truth,” he said, but knew he was barely audible over the sound of the rotors.

  Then he pressed the power button and waited. The dark screen flashed, then blinked, then glowed mutedly. A status bar crept across the screen.

  Lee’s pulse was hammering. It works. It actually still works. I can’t fucking believe it.

  Still, he held back rejoicing just yet.

  The status bar reached the other side of the screen and an image of a map sprang to life in full, vivid colors, and it was a map of North Carolina. A window popped up, partially covering the map, asking for a password in order to access the application. Lee typed in his password and pressed Enter.