by Amy Cross
"How can you be so calm?" I ask, interrupting her. "You just shot three men in cold blood!"
"It was the right decision," she replies, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "I let you live because I trust you, Elizabeth. I think you understand the importance of making decisions based on logic rather than emotion, and for that reason, I'm hoping you'll be useful." She pauses. "I'm not going to regret that decision, am I?"
I stare at her for a moment. "If I say the wrong thing," I reply eventually, "are you going to shoot me too?"
She smiles. "No. But I'd appreciate it if you could help me get these bodies out of the house. I'll go and build a bonfire, and then we can burn them. It's better to be safe than sorry."
As the baby starts to cry, I try gently rocking her back to sleep. I want to turn and run, to get away from Patricia, but I feel as if I'm trapped here. Although I can just about see the logic in everything she says, I can't shake the feeling that she's too calm and too rational; she can't see the human side at all. She heads outside to get started on the bonfire, and as I carry the baby over to the window and watch Patricia's progress, I can't help thinking that I'm not safe here. When she decides I'm no longer useful, she'll kill me, just like she killed the others.
Thomas
Missouri
As soon as the sun comes up, I start loading the truck. There's not exactly an abundance of supplies in the creepy old man's house, but I manage to salvage a few items that might be useful, and I still have a few days' worth of gasoline. I don't really know where I'm going to go, other than just to keep heading east. I figure that sooner or later, I have to bump into someone who can help. At the end of the day, I refuse to believe that there's no-one out there who can turn things around. Maybe it's taking longer than expected, but the army or the government or someone has to get their act in shape eventually.
Once the truck is loaded, I look back toward the house. Joe has been much quieter over the past twelve hours, as if he's finally losing the ability to remain conscious in his decaying body. He manages a few words here and there, but it's clear that the end is coming. In fact, having spent a couple of hours putting supplies into the back of the truck and making sure that everything's ready, I'm starting to wonder if maybe I've missed the point of Joe's second death. Trudging toward the front door, I brace myself for the possibility that all I'll find will be his withered body, with his mind having long since drifted away.
"What took you so long?" he asks as soon as I enter the front room.
"I was sorting out the truck," I tell him.
"You should get going soon. There's no point leaving it 'til tonight."
"I'm not going yet," I reply. "I told you, not until..."
He smiles. "Not until what, Tommy boy? Not until I'm dead?" He pauses. "See, here's the thing. I've been thinking long and hard, and I've kinda made a decision." He takes a deep breath. "I don't want you to get all uppity about this or nothing, but I don't wanna die with an audience. I don't reckon it's right. I wanna die alone. Just sitting here will be good enough for me, but I don't want no-one seeing me or touching my body or anything like that. It's not natural to have someone around when you're about to fall off your perch. It's a private thing, and it should be done in private, with no-one watching."
"I'm not leaving you," I say firmly, even though I can feel my resistance starting to wear down.
"You've already done enough," he replies. "I want to be alone when it happens, Tommy. Maybe I'm being stubborn or vain or whatever, but I don't want you or anyone else here when I die. Anyway, I figure you should hit the road as soon as possible. You don't wanna be late."
"Late?" I reply with a faint smile. "For what? A long drive to nowhere?"
He pauses. "Remember how I told you that I could see through other eyes?" he says after a moment. "The psycho who's behind all this, he can occupy all these bodies at once, seeing out of their eyes all over the world, and when I forced him to leave me alone, I saw how he left. I followed, and I realized I can go wherever he goes, so..." He pauses again. "I've been looking for Martha," he continues eventually. "I've been looking through the eyes of all the creatures out in California, around San Francisco, and it took a while, but I found her."
I stare at him, unable to believe what he's saying.
"Martha's alive," he continues. "She's with some other people, and they'd been hiding out. But now..." He pauses, as if for a moment his mind isn't quite stable. "I spoke to her," he says finally. "I told her to meet you at that four state corner monument place. You know the one? Where, like, Arizona and New Mexico and a bunch of other states meet? You've gotta go there, Tommy. Martha's already on her way. I figured it'd be kinda roughly half-way between where she is and where you are, but you've gotta get a move on. If you hurry, you can be there tomorrow evening."
"Martha..." I pause. "You haven't found Martha," I say after a moment. "You can't have done."
"She's family," he replies. "Maybe that made it a bit easier. Fuck knows, but she's gonna go and meet you, so you'd better get your ass over there, you understand? Pedal to the metal, boy, and don't look back. I don't know where the pair of you are gonna go after you've found each other, but two heads are better than one, right? At least I was able to give you a hand before..."
I wait for him to finish. "Are you sure?" I ask eventually, with tears in my eyes at the thought that maybe I'm not going to be completely alone after all. I'd already forced myself not to hold out hope that our sister might ever turn up, and I'm still not quite ready to believe she might still be alive. I'd like to think that Joe would never joke about something so important, but I know him too well to let my guard down just yet. "Is it really Martha?" I ask. "Are you completely certain?"
He nods, but he's clearly in pain.
"And you swear you're not kidding me?" I ask, my voice starting to tremble. "I swear to God, Joe, if this is some kind of trick, I'll never forgive you!"
"Why would I..." He pauses again, and finally that old, well-worn smile crosses his lips one last time. "I tell you what, Tommy. I'm gonna prove it to you. Kinda, anyway. I'm gonna show you that I can do what I claim I can do. You know that old broad in the bed upstairs? She was infected with whatever this thing is, even though she wasn't dead. And that means I can... abandon this body and go into hers and..."
I wait for him to continue. "Joe?" I say after a moment. "You're not making sense!"
Silence.
Stepping closer, I reach out and touch the side of his neck, and I realize that he doesn't have a pulse. I guess his body has finally given out.
"Rest in peace," I whisper.
"Hey!" a voice calls out suddenly, from upstairs. "Up here!"
Looking up at the ceiling, I'm gripped by a sudden sense of fear.
"It's me!" the voice calls again. It sounds like the old woman, but at the same time, there's something very familiar about the way she's speaking... something that reminds me of someone else. "It's Joe!" she shouts. "I'm up here! Come on up and see!"
Elizabeth
Pennsylvania
"Put him with the rest," Patricia says. "Let's get them on top of each other, so they burn faster."
As I pull Thor's dead body across the yard, I almost stumble in the mud. Managing to stay upright at the last moment, I finally get to the small bonfire that Patricia has built in the clearing, and with the last of my energy I manage to haul the corpse on top of the other two. Taking a step back, I try to get my head around the fact that an hour ago, these three men were still alive, and now they're piled up ready to be burned. I hated Eriksen, I disliked Thor and I never really got to know Bridger, but I never felt they deserved to die.
"You did a good job," Patricia continues, picking up a can of gasoline and starting to pour it over the bodies. "Were you careful? Until we know how this thing transmits from one person to the next, we need to be careful. You didn't take the gloves off, did you? Not even for a moment?"
"No," I reply, feeling as if my mind is comple
tely blank. I guess I can't quite take in the enormity of what I'm seeing. It's just a few minutes since these people were talking and arguing, and now they're just corpses, lumps of meat and bone ready to be tossed onto a fire and burned. "Do I have to stay and watch?" I ask after a moment.
"You need to toughen up," she replies.
"But do I really have to watch?"
"Just hang on a few more minutes," she replies, splashing gasoline over Bridger's head. "We won't be much longer."
"I think he's still alive!" I say suddenly, as I spot a vague hint of movement in Bridger's hand.
"Not for much longer," Patricia replies matter-of-factly.
"You can't just burn him like this!" I shout.
"I'm not wasting a bullet," she says calmly.
"What the fuck's wrong with you?" I ask, taking a step back. "You didn't have to do any of this!"
"Any one of them could be infected," she replies. "Do you really want us to take the risk?"
"But you said it yourself," I continue, "you don't even know how the infection spreads. For all we know, the whole house could have it, and we could be infected as well!"
"I admit," she replies, "I've been considering that possibility. However, I've fairly confident that some of us seem to have a kind of genetic immunity. After all, we've both been in heavily urbanized areas where the disease was presumably running rampant. The fact that we didn't get sick means, in my opinion, that we're safe." She pauses. "Either that, or the disease is able to hide itself much more convincingly in our minds. I suppose that's a possibility that we should consider. If I'd known for sure that one of these three was infected, I'd have performed an autopsy. As it stands..." She pauses again. "Maybe I acted rashly. Maybe I should have simply incapacitated them by shooting their kneecaps, and then held them in a pit until I was able to work out how to deal with them more effectively and -"
"You're a monster," I say, interrupting her.
"Please," she replies with a faint smile, "let's not get melodramatic here. You're letting your emotions get the better of you, Elizabeth, and I think we've already seen today that such things can have very bad consequences."
"I mean it," I continue. "You don't even care about these people, do you?"
"I've tried caring about people in the past," she replies. "It... didn't end well. In my experience, the best approach is to focus on my own needs. If that makes me a bad person or a 'monster', then I guess I just have to accept whatever labels people throw at me. At the end of the day, I'm still alive and billions of other people aren't, so I guess I must have been doing something right all this time." She takes a deep breath. "I don't need you to agree with every decision I make," she continues eventually, "but I hope we can work together, Elizabeth. We have common interests."
"I don't know," I reply after a moment. "I mean, I can't..." Staring at the dead bodies on the bonfire, I try to see things from Patricia's point of view. After all, Eriksen was causing trouble, and he did seem to be persuading Bridger and Thor to see things from his perspective. At the same time, I don't see that Patricia had any justification for killing them. The world might have gone to hell, but we're still human beings and if we just start killing each other indiscriminately, we're no better than the creatures that are hunting us down. Then again, I can't help wondering if I'm just being hopelessly naive.
"Shit," she mutters. "You don't get it, do you?"
"Help me," Bridger moans suddenly, trying to move despite the fact that he's got both Eriksen and Thor on top of him. "Get me out of here!"
"Can you save him?" I ask, turning to Patricia.
"Maybe," she replies, putting the can of gasoline down before lighting a match. "I don't see the benefit, though. He's already cost me a bullet."
"But shouldn't we say something?" I ask, trying to delay the moment when she sets fire to the bodies. "I mean, shouldn't we..." I pause, trying to work out what, exactly, I mean. My mind is racing and I'm starting to panic, and all I know is that I can't let her burn Bridger alive. "Maybe we should say something," I continue, "to mark their passing."
"Go on, then," she replies, with a frown, "but this match is burning pretty fast."
I watch as Bridger reaches out, his hand searching for something, anything, that might save him.
"I just think," I say eventually, "that maybe we should be careful to -"
"Time's up," Patricia says.
"No, I -"
With that, she takes a step back before tossing the match onto the bodies, causing a huge fireball that immediately consumes all three corpses. Stepping back, I hold my hands up to shield my face from the heat, and for a moment I swear I can hear Bridger screaming before finally he falls silent. The flames are so strong, it's impossible to see what's happening at the center of the bonfire, but when I turn to Patricia, I realize that she's already carrying the can of gasoline back over to the farmhouse.
"Elizabeth," she says suddenly, turning back to face me, "I don't know if you've noticed, but the baby's crying. You really should give her a name, by the way. Even if it's just something you come up with on the spot." She reaches into her pocket and takes out the cigarette she showed me the other day, the one she'd been saving. With a faint smile, she walks over to the bonfire and holds the cigarette out until the end is lit, and then she takes a long drag. "God," she says eventually, "that felt good. You know what? Toad has some cigarettes in his basement. I think maybe I'm going to start smoking again. It helps me concentrate."
She holds the cigarette out for me, but I shake my head.
"You don't know what you're missing," she continues, taking another drag. "Don't spend too long out here. We've got work to do." With that, she turns and starts walking back toward the farmhouse.
Standing by the bonfire, all I can do is stare and imagine the bodies burning up in the inferno. I have no idea whether Bridger could have been saved, but he was still alive when the fire started and I'm certain he realized what was happening to him. With the baby staring up at me, I realize that there's no way I can just sit around this place with Patricia; she's clearly lost her mind, and it's only a matter of time before she decides that Toad and I, and maybe even the baby as well, are inconvenient. Then again, where else can I go? Eriksen was right when he said that I'm ill-equipped to go wandering off across the country, but if staying here isn't an option...
Glancing over at the barn next to the farmhouse, I spot Eriksen and Shauna's van, and I realize that maybe my best bet is to strike a deal with Patricia.
When I get back into the kitchen, I find Patricia washing her hands and arms in the sink. I watch her for a moment, trying to work out what must be going through her mind after she killed those three men.
"Was that the first time you've ever done anything like that?" I ask eventually.
"What?" she asks, as if nothing unusual has happened.
"Have you ever killed anyone before?"
She pauses. "Sure," she says after a moment. "I'm a doctor. People die around me all the time."
"But have you ever shot anyone?"
"No," she replies, drying her hands on a towel. "I know what you're thinking, Elizabeth, and I want you to try to understand this from my point of view. There's no place for sentimentality when you're dealing with life and death. Sure, I could have let those three guys live, but what would have happened? More arguing, more bickering, and then they'd have killed Toad and my specimen, and then things would have been tense and eventually there would have been deaths anyway. What I did, I did to ensure that the best possible outcome emerged from a situation in which death and conflict was already inevitable." She pauses. "If you think we could have sorted things out with a cozy chat around the table, you're wrong. And, I might add, hopelessly naive."
I pause for a moment. "What do you think about Toad?" I ask eventually. "Is he infected?"
She shakes her head. "Not with whatever's causing all of this. He's got a much more ordinary type of infection, although it's just as dangerous. He definitely co
uld die."
"And there's nothing you can do for him?"
"I can't throw all my remaining supplies away on a long-shot attempt to save one guy," she replies. "Be sensible, Elizabeth."
"Let me take him away," I say suddenly. "I'll take him, and the baby, and we'll go in Eriksen's old van. We'll take enough gas to get us to Lake Ontario. I know some people who were headed that way, and I think it might be my best shot."
"You want to leave me here alone?" she replies.
"You can get on with your work," I point out. "No-one'll interrupt you -"
"I'll be alone," she says firmly. "What's wrong, Elizabeth? Are you scared of me or something?"
I pause, trying to work out what to say.
"Jesus," she mutters, "you're fucking scared of me."
"I've made my decision," I say, trying not to let my voice waver too much. "I'm going to load up the van -"
"Says who?"
"I need supplies for the journey."
"Not my supplies," she says, staring at me as if she hates me. "Why should I give you my supplies just so you can fuck off?"
"They're not yours," I reply. "Everything here is Toad's."
"Then let him come down here and make me give them up," she replies. "The world has changed, Elizabeth. Sure, all the supplies around here belong to Toad, but unless he can assert his right to them, it doesn't mean a damn thing. I need everything here." She picks up the gun from the counter-top. "The only way anyone's getting even a drop of the supplies around here is if they take them by force," she continues, fixing me with a determined stare that leaves me in no doubt that she'd shoot me if necessary. "This is how the world works now. There's no legal authority to back up claims of ownership. You get what you can take, and you keep what you can defend."