by Cross, Amy
Different and wrong.
He'd been hunting rabbits on the farm's land all his life, but this particular specimen looked diseased. Stepping closer, Walter saw that its eyes were red and bulging, and that the front of its face had been badly split open. The fact that the little thing was still hopping around at all was miraculous, and sure enough a moment later the rabbit let out a gasping, spluttering hacking sound that suggested it wasn't breathing too easy either.
“What happened to you, little fella?” Walter asked, wincing slightly as he took another step closer. “You look like you've been in the wars.”
The rabbit's bulging eyes twitched slightly, although they seemed to be looking in different directions.
“I'm sorry,” Walter said, looking around and quickly spotting a good-sized rock, which he proceeded to pick up, “but I think you're about done for. Take that from one who's pretty much done for himself, okay?” He stepped closer and began to consider the best angle to finish the job quickly. “You must be in a lot of pain, and that's no good at all, is it? This is just the way of the world, my little buddy, and -”
Suddenly the rabbit surged at him, snapping its jaws.
Startled, Walter stepped back, but the rabbit seems to have been overcome by a powerful fury. Struggling to even move, the creature quickly rolled onto its side and began frothing wildly at the mouth.
“Oh my,” Walter said, horrified by the sight of so much pain and suffering. “I'm gonna get this over with quickly, little one. I'll try to make it so you don't feel a thing.”
Leaning down, he adjusted the rock in his hand before bringing it crashing down against the rabbit's head, with enough force to instantly shatter its skull. The rabbit's body twitched and flailed for a moment before falling still, but Walter noticed that there really didn't seem to be much blood coming from the mess. He still had the rock pressed against the rabbit's ruined head, and after a moment he noticed that the bottom of the rock actually seemed to be moving slightly, as if something was thudding against its base.
Slowly, he moved the rock aside.
“What the...”
He felt a rush of nausea as he saw that hundreds of tiny wasp-like creatures were scurrying out from the rabbit's broken head, leaving behind what amounted to almost no brain tissue whatsoever. Walter had seen plenty of gross sights in his life on the farm, but this was something else entirely. It was as if the tiny wasps had filled the rabbit entirely and had somehow been controlling its movements.
The creatures, seemingly unable to fly, were already disappearing into the grass, and Walter took a step back so that none of them could got onto his shoe. Finally he grabbed a branch from nearby and used that to poke the rabbit's corpse into the river, hoping to get rid of it entirely. As soon as he'd done that, he realized that perhaps he should have burned it instead, but at least the wretched thing was gone, and he could no longer see the little wasp-like monstrosities.
It was as if the rabbit had never been there.
***
“Are you okay there?” Marjorie asked, stopping in the doorway. “Just spending some time with your new grandson, huh?”
“I just thought I'd sit with him,” Walter replied, holding Thomas in his arms. The child was sleeping, and Walter couldn't help but feel that this was partly due to his own proximity. “He's very peaceful.”
“You didn't seem yourself at dinner,” Marjorie continued. “Is anything wrong?”
“Oh, just...”
He paused, wondering once again whether he should mentioned the incident with the rabbit. He'd told no-one about what had happened, and he'd tried to put the whole thing out of his head, but deep down he felt shaken. That creature had seemed as if it was alive, yet it had been little more than a skin filled with parasites. At his advanced age, Walter had allowed himself to believe that he knew pretty much everything about the natural world around the farm, but now he was doubting that certainty.
“I'm fine,” he said finally. “I'll come through to bed soon.”
Once Marjorie had left, Walter looked down at Thomas and allowed himself a faint smile. Having already started to think that his oldest grandson might be becoming a hand-full, he told himself that Thomas would be different, that it was most likely Thomas who'd be most interested in taking over the farm. And if the natural world was hiding some surprises, ready to spring them later, then Thomas would assuredly be able to handle the situation. Even though he knew he was perhaps getting ahead of himself, Walter felt sure that Thomas was going to be a proper Edgewater.
“There's nothing scary out there in the natural world,” Walter whispered to the child. “Don't you worry about a thing.”
Day 365
Chapter One
Elizabeth
Suddenly the world comes rushing back, and I open my eyes and feel a sharp pain in the side of my head. Everything's vibrating all around me, and I'm flat on my back, and there's an overpowering smell of grease or oil or something like that. I stare up at a dark wall, and then I start to sit up, only for the pain in my head to get ten times stronger. I let out a faint gasp, and then I turn and see someone sitting nearby at the edge of some kind of platform, leaning against a railing and looking away.
A moment later he turns to me.
Thomas!
It's Thomas Edgewater!
“Hey,” he says calmly, with a hint of fear in his voice, “you're awake.”
I open my mouth to reply to him, but then I realize that I'm starting to remember what happened. I was in a storage room with that crazy one-armed one-eyed Martha girl, and I was terrified that I was about to see the ghosts of all the people who died down in the observation area. Looking around now, I see nobody apart from Thomas, and then I remember that he was in the storage room as well. I was filled with panic, and I think I temporarily lost my mind. I don't quite know what happened next, but now I seem to be in some other completely different part of the facility.
“How's your head?” Thomas asks.
“Fine,” I reply, even though the pain is pretty bad. “I think. What happened?”
“My sister got a little... It's complicated.”
“Martha's your sister?”
He nods.
“Huh.” I rub the side of my head, and at least I don't feel any physical damage. “Wait,” I continue, “you're here. I mean, how? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“And what's that noise?” I ask, looking around as the loud humming sound continues. “It almost sounds like something's going to explode.” I pause, before turning to him again. “Is something going to explode?”
“Meet Project Atherius,” he replies, turning and looking out toward a large, cylindrical structure that rises up through the center of this massive chamber. “I don't know how much you know so far, but it turns out that this whole base is built around some kind of giant rocket.”
“What?”
Crawling over to him, I quickly reach the railing. I look out at the cylinder, and for a moment I'm overawed by the sight of something so insanely big. I look up, then down, then up again, and gradually I feel myself starting to accept that maybe – just maybe – this really is a rocket. Then again, that idea feels so absurd, I keep trying to think of other explanations.
“Why...” I pause again. “Why would someone build a rocket? How would they build a rocket?”
Before Thomas can answer, there's a loud, heavy clunking sound that rings out from somewhere far below, an the hum instantly changes its intensity, as if the engines far below were just shifted into a completely different setting. I mean, I'm no expert when it comes to rockets, but that's certainly what it sounded like. I peer over the edge of the gangway again, looking down to what I assume must be the area where the engines are situated.
“Is it about to launch?” I ask.
“I don't know.”
“This would be a bad place to be when that happens,” I suggest.
“It would.”
Suddenly I think back to the moment when I saw all those people getting burned to death. They were in a large room with huge, round vent-like structures on the ceiling, and then flames came roaring down. In an instant, I realize that what I witnessed must have been some kind of test of this rocket's engines. Maxwell Carver wanted to check that the rocket's systems were working, and he took the opportunity to simultaneously incinerate all the people who had worked here to bring Project Atherius to this point. For a few seconds, I can only think back to the horrific sight of the flames engulfing them all, and then I look down at my burned hands.
I was screaming as I tried to get the door open, but I was too late. So many people died, and there wasn't even any need for that to happen. Maxwell Carver could have just let them go, but instead he chose to send them down there into that place. It's almost as if he enjoyed what happened.
“Elizabeth?”
Hearing Thomas say my name, I force myself back to the present.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry about before. Back in the storage room, I mean. I think... I think I was just freaking out about something I'd seen.”
“You don't have to explain,” he replies.
“We need to get out of here,” I point out. “Where's your sister?”
“She went to poke around a little. I swear, she just can't sit down at the moment, but I guess I understand. And your father's around somewhere.”
“Where?”
“We were supposed to meet him at a door just outside, in the corridor, but he hasn't shown up so far. Don't worry, though, it's only been a couple of hours. I think the best thing is just to wait a little longer until he shows up. I think he's got a plan, and he definitely seems to know more about this place than the rest of us.”
“I have to find him,” I reply, as I start hauling myself up.
“We just need to wait!”
“He might be in trouble,” I say, gripping the railing for a moment to steady myself. “Tell me which way he went.”
“I don't know,” he replies, putting a hand on my arm. “Elizabeth, I get it, you want to see him, but I think the best thing right now is just to trust him. He told us to wait here, and to be honest I think he probably knows what we should do, better than anyone.”
“Was he okay?” I ask. “The last time I saw him was over a week ago, he was being taken away to be interrogated.”
“He looked like he'd been beaten up,” he tells me, “but apart from that he was fine. He said something about finding a way to stop a guy named Maxwell Carver.”
“Carver's behind all of this,” I reply, feeling a flicker of hatred at the mention of that name. “He controls this entire facility, he's the one who had all those people killed.” I pause, before turning to look once again at the rocket. “He must have been planning this all along. Wherever that rocket's going, he wants to be on it, and he doesn't care who he has to kill in order to get his way. I have to find my father. He could be in serious danger.”
I turn and limp away. Thomas tries to hold me back, but I manage to slip free from his grip as I head toward the door.
“Can't you just try to be a little patient?” he asks, hurrying after me.
“I've been patient!” I snap. “Being patient almost got me killed, now I -”
Suddenly a figure steps into the doorway, blocking my way. Startled, I let out a gasp as I stand back, and then to my utter shock I see Dad staring at me. Thomas was right when he said that Dad had been through the wars, but it's really him, and after a moment I rush forward and put my arms around him. Squeezing him tight, I feel tears in my eyes as I realize that I mustn't ever let him go again.
“It's okay, sweetheart,” he says calmly, “I'm pleased to see you too.”
“I thought I'd lost you!” I sob. “I asked every day, Dad! I told them that they had to let me see you, but they just wouldn't!”
“I understand,” he replies. “The important thing is that you survived. They kept telling me that you were okay, but I couldn't help worrying. Now you're here, and that's what matters.” He pauses. “Although,” he adds, “this reunion is going to be kinda short-lived if you squeeze me to death. I've got a few sore ribs too, so would you mind... just...”
“Sorry!” I say, pulling back and looking at his bruised face. “What did they do to you?”
“That doesn't matter now.”
“So we're going to get out of here, right?”
He hesitates, just as Martha steps into view behind him.
“We are going to get out of here,” Dad says cautiously, “but it's not quite as simple as that. Elizabeth, I need to talk to you alone for a few minutes.”
“Why can't we hear what you've got to say?” Martha asks.
“Because I want to talk to my daughter,” Dad replies firmly, turning to her. “If you've got a problem with that, I really don't care. But things are going to go a lot faster if we don't have to argue over every little thing. So do you think that you and your brother can entertain yourselves for a short while? I'll be back real soon to let you know what's happening.”
“I guess,” Martha mutters, although she still seems distinctly unimpressed. “Knock yourselves out.”
“This way,” Dad says, turning to me. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but I really need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Sure,” I reply, even though I feel a little bad for leaving Thomas and his sister in the dark. “And then I guess we can figure out how we're going to get as far as possible from this place before that stupid rocket takes off.”
Chapter Two
Thomas
“You never told me that she was so annoying,” Martha says, as I watch Elizabeth following her father out of the room.
I turn to her.
“Elizabeth Marter, I mean,” she continues. “Come on, Thomas, don't look at her with rose-tinted glasses. She's seriously irritating.”
“She's not,” I reply.
“I had to knock her out to make her shut up,” she points out, “and frankly I'd do it again. What's the actual deal with you and her, anyway? Exactly when did you meet her?”
“A while back,” I explain, “not far from Boston. We went through some pretty intense things together. We had some mutual friends who didn't make it. Did I ever tell you about Toad, and Doctor Sarah Carter?”
“I think so. Those names ring a bell.”
“They're both dead now.” I pause, thinking back to that frantic day when we all escaped Boston on a train. “I lost track of Elizabeth not long after. I decided to leave New York, I sent her a letter inviting her to come with me, but her reply was not really what I was hoping for.” Again, I pause, and then I force myself to stop focusing on the past. “It doesn't matter,” I continue. “What matters is now, and getting out of this place. Did you find anything while you were out looking around? Have you figured out where this stupid rocket's supposed to go?”
“Up, I guess,” she replies.
I glare at her.
“Okay,” she adds, “I did find one interesting thing. I think I maybe figured out what the rocket's going to be carrying when it launches.”
***
“What is all this?” I ask as Martha leads me into what looks like some kind of large storage area, filled with empty trolley-like structures. “It's almost as if -”
Suddenly Martha puts a finger against her lips, as if she wants me to keep quiet. I furrow my brow, but then I realize I can hear a faint scratching sound coming from the far end of the room. The sound stops soon enough, and my first thought is that maybe there are rats here at Project Atherius, but somehow that idea doesn't seem to hold true. When I turn to Martha again, I see that she seems faintly amused.
“We're not alone,” she whispers, leaning closer to me. “Someone's doing a very bad job of hiding.”
“Who?”
“I'm not sure, but whoever it is, they could do with some -”
Before she can finish, there's a rattling sound, and I turn to see that one of the trolleys has been bumped at the far end of the room.
“Oh, I'm so glad no-one else is here,” Martha announces loudly, and with a mocking, theatrical tone that's impossible to miss. “Aren't you, Thomas? It would really suck if, for example, there was somebody hiding here and trying not to get noticed. That'd just be tragic!”
“They might be dangerous!” I hiss.
“They why are they hiding?” she asks quietly.
“It might be that zombie!”
“Again, why would a zombie hide?”
She pauses, before stepping out across the room, heading toward the source of the noise. The room is quiet now, but it's totally obvious that there's definitely someone hiding at the far end. Martha makes sure to be quite noisy as she heads around to one side of the room. Sure enough, a moment later I hear somebody scrambling about in an attempt to get as far from her as possible. I look over toward some desks, and suddenly a face briefly comes into view.
No way.
That can't be who I think it is.
“Doctor Hoyle?” I call out, making my way toward the desk. “Lucy Hoyle, is that you?”
I hear more scrabbling, followed by a loud thud and a groan of pain. I think she just banged her head, and I quickly step around the nearest desk.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, as I see Doctor Hoyle staring back at me with a startled expression.
She turns and looks over her shoulder as Martha comes closer, and then she turns back to me. She seems totally startled, like an animal in the headlights, but I'm pretty sure she must realize that there's no point trying to run. She's cornered, and finally she starts slowly getting to her feet. She was always kind of timid and nervous, even back in Philadelphia, but now she seems positively terrified.
“Is he here?” she asks, her voice trembling with fear.