by D. S. Murphy
Soon the world swirled with pink and orange lights, then it faded and changed. Grass grew up all around me. Sometimes there was snow, but then it was sunny again. The changes happened so quickly I couldn’t really feel it, though I could watch the trees and plants around me growing. When it finally stopped, things looked pretty much the same, just overgrown and dense. I couldn’t even see the path anymore, and I had to push through the bushes to reach the spot Brett had buried the backpack.
I pushed away the rock and dug into the dirt with my fingers. I only had to go a few inches before finding the backpack. Some kind of animal had chewed through it to get at the granola bars. I pulled out the knife, feeling instantly safer with it in my hand. Then I slung the backpack over my shoulder. I heard a sound behind me and spun, my heart pounding. It was just a deer. It watched me for a few moments, then ducked its head to nibble on the grass.
I headed towards Tracy’s house, wondering if I was still in the same future I’d seen before. Or had preventing the bombing changed it? Were there even mods in this timeline? Would Tracy’s house still be there?
I exited the reservation. Tracy’s house was just a couple blocks away. All the houses were deserted, some boarded up, with smashed windows. I moved as quietly as I could. The sound of my sneakers against the pavement carried in the near silence. Far above me, I saw a hawk circling. Then the black cube came into view. I could see now it was built higher than Tracy’s house had been. They must have torn that down and built a new one higher up on the hill.
The fence surrounding the property was twice my height, and when I approached it I felt the hairs on my arms rise. I’m pretty sure it was electric. I pressed the button on the intercom that Jake had used last time, looking up into the camera so he’d see my face. There was a low buzz, and the gate slide open just enough for me to enter. It shut behind me.
The front door opened and Tracy came out. He’d cut his hair and shaved since I’d seen him, and was wearing business casual attire—jeans and a jacket, but no tie. He eyed the knife and put his hands up in defense.
“I screwed up when we met last,” he said. “I was terrified I’d ruined it. I kept expecting to disappear. I’m so glad you’re giving me another shot.”
“How do you know me?” I asked. “Why do you have a picture of me in your house?”
“When are you from? Have we… do you recognize me?”
“Should I?”
“I’ve always considered us close friends,” Tracy said. “Though I guess you haven’t met me yet. How much time do you have?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then we better get started.”
He led me inside and cracked open a bottle of sparkling water. He poured me a glass and added ice cubes. I felt stupid carrying two bottles of water with me. The house was modern and gleaming, with high ceilings and excellent furniture. It looked like it should be in an Architectural Digest magazine.
“This is so freaking amazing,” he said, pulling out a plate of Oreos and putting them in front of me. “I mean, we’ve talked about this moment a hundred times—you used to drill me on what I needed to tell you, but I’ve never actually seen you, like this. I mean, until a few days ago. You look so young, it’s crazy.”
“How do you still have Oreos when the world has gone to shit?” I asked.
“It’s kind of funny, actually. All those post-apocalyptic movies used to show survivors foraging for food, but you can’t imagine how much surplus actually exists. After D-day, there were probably ten survivors in this area. We each had our own grocery store. The produce went bad fast, but everything else—enough for one person to live on for decades. That is, until you factor in the mods, and the risk of actually going into stores scavenging. I’m the only one in the area now, as far as I know. The others weren’t as prepared.”
“And you were?” I asked.
“Yes. Because of you.”
“I warned you?”
“You did more than warn me,” he gave me a crooked smile. “You told me to build this place. A big black cube behind my dad’s house. A place with a view of the whole city. How’d I do?”
He gestured towards the corner of the living room, to what looked like a pipe hanging from the ceiling. He swiveled it around and I could see it was a periscope, like what you’d find in a submarine.
“You can see everything from here, the city, the school, the airport and Zamonta, even Defiance.”
“Where’d you get the money?”
“That was you also. Look, I saved it,” he said, pulling a frame off the wall. “This is how you got my attention. You gave me this Powerball ticket and told me to watch the results. I won $50,000. That got my attention, but that was just the beginning.”
“Why would I do that? Why you?”
“You helped me get rich so I could build this place for you. Somewhere off the radar. A base to survive what was coming. I’m supposed to show you this first so you can memorize the numbers. The drawing is December 1st.”
“What’s the date here now?”
“November 27th, 2037.”
“So twenty years in the future, exactly.”
“Yeah, that’s what you always told me. You gave me the dates of when to expect you, but you know for me that was a long time ago. And I think my calculations were off, I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”
My chest tightened. He was acting like he hadn’t seen me since before D-day. Why wasn’t I still around? What happened to me?
“I need to know exactly what happened. Where did the mods come from? Who created them?”
“Well, we still don’t know exactly. Everything happened quickly, even though we knew it was going to. I barely made it back here with my life. Then things got really quiet. I didn’t see another human for months. Then they started coming out, looking for supplies. Eventually you got in touch—”
“Wait, after D-day? I was still alive? What happened to me, where am I now?”
He held up his hands and shook his head.
“You told me not to get distracted by your questions. We have to do the important stuff first, okay? Start with this.”
He pulled out a folder, and opened a yellowed newspaper article.
May 16th, 2017
GMOS LINKED TO MASSIVE GENOME MUTATION
As I started reading, Tracy used a remote to turn on the flat screen TV to a news program. A man in a suit with white hair was reporting.
“This is OBC with continuing coverage of the crisis that is overwhelming America, and the world. A few days ago, we reported on what we suspected was a new strain of bird flu. But despite the flu-like symptoms, no viruses were found. Instead, scientists analyzing the victims and the deceased have found unexplainable genetic alterations—DNA mutations happening so fast it defies our understanding of genetic coding. From dozens of cases, it became thousands. Then millions. FEMA and emergency crews have been sent to the sites worst hit, but so far, we’ve found no way to reverse the effects or contain the pandemic. With me I have Dr. Chase Goodwin, with more. Chase, can you tell me what’s happening out there? What should people watch out for?”
Dr. Goodwin was sweating, his skin looked pasty and he had dark circles under his eyes.
“People started getting sick last week. Then they’d pass out, into a deep coma with a reduced heart rate. And they began changing. Thickening of the epidermis. Dilating of pupils. Hair loss. Enhanced muscle mass, loss of body fat. The fingernails became elongated and sharp, like claws or talons. They became, essentially, golems. This process, it’s almost like what a butterfly goes through during Crysalis—a metamorphosis. Which is remarkable, because, you know, this shouldn’t happen at all. We’re human beings, not insects. But in the last few days some of them started waking up. They can’t remember who they were. They can’t remember their families or loved ones. And they are violent. Full of rage, like animals. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen. It’s like... these aren’t humans anymore. It could have happened, after
a million years. But not like this. Not in forty-eight hours, this is insane. It’s like... something is deliberately getting into their DNA, their genetic code, and editing it.”
“For what purpose? Who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know. Some crazy new kind of Russian attack? Aliens? This is light years ahead of what I would have said was possible. The troubling thing is... it doesn’t seem to be making us weaker. It seems to be making us stronger. Too strong.”
Tracy turned off the TV and I finished reading the article. Something towards the bottom caught my eye.
According to Tamara Gordon of GreenGrowth, an environmental protection organization in Missouri, the current crisis is a result of unregulated genetic modification of produce. Scientists have begun investigating Ms. Gordon’s claims to see if they can explain what’s happening, however initial online reports on social media do seem to indicate that people whose diets avoid GMO’s are unlikely to be affected by the genetic breakdown.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Tamara is already warning them about this stuff. She knew. I mean, she didn’t know what was going to happen, but she was right anyway. Why didn’t anyone listen to her? Couldn’t they just have stopped eating GMO’s?”
“It was too late. The modifieds are fast, and strong. It’s like everything human was stripped out of them; love, compassion, understanding. They still have some functional intelligence. They aren’t zombies. They don’t appear to have bloodlust. But they are carnivores. Like lions. They eat raw meat, and they see other humans as prey. And remember, even though Tamara was right, people weren’t listening to her until shit hit the fan. According to the research, less than 1% of the public deliberately avoided GMO’s before D-day, and they’d probably never heard of Tamara or GreenGrowth until that article brought her national attention. By then it was too late.”
“Okay, so we make her more famous. We give her a voice.”
Tracy gave me a bittersweet smile.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s just—I heard you say that before. A long time ago. And still,” he gestured around him vaguely, “this.”
“I failed,” I nodded, trying to make sense of the timeline. “So tell me something new. Tell me how to stop it. Was it really GMO’s? Did they come from Zamonta? And why—were they trying to destroy the world, or was it an accident?”
Tracy shrugged.
“The answers you’re looking for aren’t here, in the future. They’re in the past. But also, it doesn’t matter what actually happened. You don’t need to understand it to stop it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What do I do, blow up Zamonta?”
Tracy paused and folded his hands in his lap.
“I’m just here to give you information, I can’t tell you what to do. But there’s something else you need to consider. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this conversation. It’s a mindfuck. There’s no way of knowing that I won’t say something that makes you do something you wouldn’t have. If you do change the past, and save the world, I wouldn’t exist anymore. Or at least, a different me would exist. And I’m okay with that. I’ve had enough of this life. I willingly sacrifice myself so another version of me can live it up. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be filthy rich, and have nothing to spend it on? But there are others in this timeline that don’t want to be erased. And some of them probably know you’re here right now.”
“What?” My fingers tightened around my glass.
“In your time, right now, you aren’t alone right? People know you’re here. Your friends. If they know what you’re capable of, they know you’re the most powerful weapon in the world. But you can’t be coerced… only manipulated.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s say someone from here wants you to change something in the past. Let’s say they put a gun to your head or threaten you. When you do go back, you can do whatever you want. Those people don’t even exist yet. They don’t know what’s coming. So you can’t be forced to go back and change things, no matter how badly they want you to.”
“If people don’t want me to change anything, why not just kill me?”
“Because, they can’t be sure what will happen. Maybe you are responsible for the way things are, because of something you haven’t done yet. If you die before you go back, maybe everything changes. Obviously, in your time, it makes the most sense to stop the end of the world. Save the human race and all that. And that’s what I want to help you do. I’m tired, and lonely, and bored out of my mind. So if you go back and change things and erase me, I’m okay with that. Getting rich as a kid was awesome… until the world ended and money was basically rendered useless. If survivors are willing to risk it, we can go get anything we want now. Live in the nicest mansions. Drive the nicest cars. Until we get killed by the mods. I’ve been lucky, because of you, but I can imagine a better life. What if you make me rich and then also stop the end of the world? I’d actually get to enjoy my wealth. That’s why I’m helping you. But there are others who don’t feel that way; others who don’t want to be erased. They’ll try to stop you. You can’t trust anyone. Not from your time, but also not from mine. You need to be careful.”
“But, you know everything I did, right? Can you walk me through it? Why did I need you, anyway?”
“My dad was a lawyer. He dealt with some shady people. You needed someone to help you set things up, money, supplies—that couldn’t be traced back to you. Someone you could trust. You also needed someone to get you supplies… weapons, bombs.”
“Seriously? I’m not a terrorist. And anyway, if you really gave me those things, and I used them, the future would have changed, right? I would have stopped Zamonta.”
“Maybe you didn’t use them. Maybe you didn’t get the chance, or you decided to try something else instead. I can’t tell you exactly what to do. But right now, in your time, you need to be taken seriously, right? You need to be listened to. You need some power. That’s why you’re here. That’s what this trip is about. Those are the things I can help you with. Remember Cassandra?” he asked.
I shook my head no and his eyes widened.
“That’s crazy. You’re the one who told me about her. Okay, so Cassandra was given foresight, to see the future, but cursed so that nobody would believe her. I imagine that’s how you’re feeling now… that’s what you told me anyway. You saw this … I mean, holy shit. The end of the world. You lived through it. And you tried to warn people and they laughed it off. I don’t know how you didn’t go insane. I almost did and I hadn’t seen it yet, I only knew what you were telling me back then. I didn’t even really believe you, not really, even after the money, and the wealth. I still didn’t really believe you. Not until the mods came, and I watched them kill my dad. The house was just finished in time, fence, supplies, everything. I don’t know why me. I think it just kind of happened, we fell into each other. And I don’t think you ever told me everything, actually. You just told me enough. You wrote out a big checklist for me to follow, and made me swear I’d do it right.”
He pulled out another piece of paper, it had about a hundred specific pieces of information.
“Predictions?” I asked.
“Very specific things that nobody could have guessed, but you can predict. Also, there’s this.”
He pulled out a sealed envelope and handed me a letter opener. Inside was a letter. In my handwriting.
Hey there younger me. I’m giving this note to Tracy, to give you in the future. It’s a note I’ve already seen with my own two eyes; and you’re seeing now. Memorize it, because you’re going to have to rewrite it again, later, for yourself to discover. I know how crazy that sounds. Everything about this is crazy. I wasn’t sure about Tracy before. And I’m not really sure about him now… but we survived. We failed to stop D-Day, but it wasn’t his fault, and he’s done everything I’ve asked of him. Now it’s your turn. I don’t know if you can do any better, but I trust you ca
n, somehow. I trust that we can. Find a way to stop it. I believe in you.
“I know you have more questions, but first, this is what you came for, right?” he said, holding up the list of predictions. “So I’ll make some coffee, and you sit there and memorize as much as you can.”
I was on my second cup of coffee, going through the list for the 9th time, when the buzzer rang. Someone else was here.
My eyes widened and my heart started racing. For some reason the doorbell ringing in a dystopian wasteland was about the most ominous sound I could imagine.
“Don’t worry, that’s just Jake,” Tracy said.
“How does he know I’m here?” I asked.
“He doesn’t. He’s been coming back every day, about the same time. I think he’s been doing a loop, from the school and back again. Looking for you. He’s a good kid, and that’s saying something. Remember, he didn’t grow up in the lap of luxury like we did, with internet, hot water, Netflix, etc. The locals view me as a wizard, just because I still have power and all these cool devices. It’s like Clarke’s Law: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. So go easy on him, you really freaked him out last time.”
“He doesn’t know who I am?”
“I haven’t told him anything, but he’s going to need some answers. What you tell him is up to you.”
Tracy opened the door and Jake came in. His face lit up in relief when he saw me. He took a few steps towards me. I thought he was going to hug me, but then he hesitated and ran his hand through his hair.
“What the hell. I thought you were dead. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“That doesn’t cut it. Not by a long shot. You disappeared, right in front of me, hanging off a ruined bridge. I went down and searched for your body. I thought maybe I’d blinked or passed out. I thought I was hallucinating. What are you? How do you disappear like that, and where do you go?” He clenched his fists together tightly.