Days 9 to 16

by Amy Cross

  "So you're going to shoot me if I try to leave?" I ask, trying to work out what to do next.

  She pauses. "No," she says eventually, putting the gun back in the holster around her waist. Walking around the table, she comes closer, but it's clear that she's planning something. "There are four hundred and nine bullets left on this property, for various different weapons. If I shoot you, that's a waste of something like a quarter of a per cent of my ammunition." She pauses. "Put the baby down."

  I take a step back. "Why?"

  "Just put her down."

  "Why?"

  "For her sake," she replies, before suddenly lunging at me, pulling me across the room and finally slamming my head into the fridge, knocking me out immediately.

  Thomas

  Missouri

  "Told you," Joe says as I enter the bedroom. "Isn't this fucking sweet?"

  I stare at him. Or rather, at her. It's the old woman from yesterday, the same one whose decrepit, emaciated body seemed to have been left in this bed for so long. Her skin is gray and peeling, with yellow and green blotches, and her thin hair is hanging like cotton from her head. The difference this time, however, is that now she's got a grin on her face, and she's staring at me as if she finds this whole situation funny. Despite her appearance, there's something indefinably familiar about the whole thing, as if the old woman's face somehow has Joe's expression.

  "Pretty cool, huh?" she says. "Don't worry about the fact that I look like some kind of mummified hag. The point is, I was able to move into her body. I can see through her eyes, Tommy, and that's basically how I found Martha, even though she's out in California. This old crone's already dead, and her body's no use, so I guess I won't stick around, but I just wanted you to see that I'm still out there somewhere. I'll be in the ether, going from body to body, looking for a way to bring this fucking asshole down. Maybe I can do it from the inside."

  "Joe?" I say, unable to quite believe what I'm seeing.

  "Sucks that she's such an old hag," he continues. "Maybe I should try to find someone a bit hotter some time, if you know what I mean. I wouldn't mind getting some action, maybe have a little sexy time with a mirror." He laughs. "Yeah, maybe that's what I'll do next. I'll go body-hopping through a bunch of fucking hot chicks and see what I can get up to. Maybe if I can occupy two bodies at once, I can..." He pauses. "I could occupy two hot women at once," he continues, with a sense of awe in his voice, "and make 'em do things with each other, and I'd be able to watch from both angles. Jesus fucking Christ, can you imagine how incredible that'd be? I need to do it, even if they're fucking zombies. Jealous?"

  "Are you serious?" I ask, walking toward him.

  "Hell, no," he replies. "I'm not serious about anything, Tommy. But it's real as all Jesus." He pauses. "You need to get going," he says after a moment. "Tommy, you need to go and meet Martha. She's pretty much the only family we've got left, so you need to go and help her and let her help you. Don't worry about anything else. Just get the hell out of here and come up with a plan once the pair of you are together. How long's it been since we saw Martha, anyway? Fucking years! She's pretty smart, when she's not being dumb. You can trust Martha. I mean, hell, she's managed to survive this long, so she must be doing something right."

  "She can't be alive," I reply. "It's not possible."

  "Would I lie to you?" he replies. "There are people out there, Tommy. Not many, but enough. A few million. Maybe if everyone gets together, they can do something about this cluster-fuck. These creatures, they're not so tough, and they're still rotting. Whatever this guy's plan is, I'm not sure it's going totally according to schedule, so there's still room for maneuver. He's panicking. He's getting more and more scared, and he's got less time to spend bragging and taunting us. He's racing from body to body, desperately hoping to find something. To be honest, it's kind of fun to watch."

  "I can't leave you like this," I say, staring at him.

  "What, stuck in some old hag's body?" He smiles. "I'm not stuck anywhere, kid. I can go to other bodies, other creatures. I don't know if the big guy even knows I'm doing it, but I'll try to stay all subtle and quiet, like. And then maybe, eventually, I'll pop out of another creature and say hi. I dunno, I'm getting kinda tired, so I think I need to rest, but I'll do whatever I can. As you can imagine, it's a pretty major mind-fuck right now. I just..." He pauses. "I just figured I show let you know that I'll be out there somewhere. I ain't dying, Tommy. Not yet. Maybe not ever, not now. I can go watch people all over the world, maybe even talk to them if I can summon up enough energy."

  "So you'll come back?" I ask. "I'll see you again?"

  "Reckon so," he replies. "You and Martha are family, so I'll find you somehow." He stares at me for a moment. "Tommy, how many fucking times do I have to tell you? Get the fuck out of here, okay? Do you really wanna leave Martha waiting for you out there? She's not exactly armed to the teeth, so make sure you get over to her and help her out, okay? I know she's older than you, Tommy boy, but there are some things she's better at and there are some things you're better at. You might make a decent team. Better than you and me, anyway." He smiles. "Go!"

  "If I don't see you again," I continue, with tears in my eyes, "I'll come back to this place and check up on you."

  "I won't be here," he replies. "Fuck, I'm already getting out. I'll seeya around, Tommy. Just promise me you'll find Martha. I set it up already, so if you don't go and meet her, you'll be letting her down. She was holed up pretty safe in San Francisco, so she's risking her life to go and find you. You'd better make damn sure that you don't let her down. This is a matter of life and death, kid."

  "Yeah," I reply. "Of course."

  "Promise me!"

  "Of course I'll find her," I say firmly. "Even if it's the last thing I do. I'll go to that four corners place and if she's not there, I'll wait until..." I pause for a moment. "I'll wait forever if I have to. I'll find her."

  "Okay," he replies. "That's good enough for me. See you around, Tommy. I'm off into the ether." He smiles, and then suddenly the old woman's body collapses back down onto the bed, landing in a dead heap.

  "See you around," I mutter, before turning and running.

  Elizabeth

  Pennsylvania

  When I wake up, I realize I'm being dragged across the yard. It takes me a couple of seconds to work out exactly what's happening, but finally I twist around and see that Patricia has tied a rope around my arms. Before I can work out what to do next, I feel heat on my back, and I look over my shoulder to see that we're getting closer to the fire.

  "No!" I shout, trying to struggle free. "You can't -"

  Before I can finish, she drops me onto the ground, before unscrewing the lid of the gasoline canister and dousing me. With my arms tied to my sides, I try to scramble away, but there's gasoline all over my body now, running down my face and stinging my eyes so badly, I can barely even manage to keep them open.

  "You're a fucking idiot," she says after a moment. "You know that? Things could have been okay here. You could have helped me, and we might have got some answers about that creature. Instead, you just showed me that I can't trust you, and if I can't trust you, then I can't keep you around."

  "Stop!" I shout, getting to my feet. There's still gasoline in my eyes, and although I'm blinking furiously, I can't get it out. The result is that all I can really see is a faint blurry image of Patricia standing nearby, while the bonfire still burns behind her. If even the slightest spark or flame reaches me, I'll go up in flames.

  "If you're worried about the baby," she continues, "then don't be. I'll do my best. It's ironic, in a way. I never wanted a kid, and now, through some torturous set of circumstances, I've been lumbered with one. Still, it'll probably be a good thing for me to have someone else around. If I was all alone, I might start to go a little crazy."

  "Please don't do this," I say, as tears pour down my cheeks, mingling with the gasoline in my eyes. "Please. I'll do anything, but please, don't hurt me!"


  "It's too late for that," she replies. "I'm sorry, but I can't let emotion enter it my decision. You've shown your hand, Elizabeth, and once you've lost my trust, it's gone forever. It's a shame, but there's no way back." Seconds later, I hear a match being struck.

  "No!" I shout, trying to turn and run before something slams into my feet and I drop to the ground.

  Before I can even try to get up, there's a loud bang, echoing around the yard, and I hear the sound of something landing next to me. I scramble to get away, terrified that at any moment Patricia's going to drop the match onto me and I'll burn, but as I get back to my feet, it's almost as if she's enjoying watching me struggle. I blink a few times, trying to clear the gasoline from my eyes, but my vision is still way too blurry. Spinning around, I try to work out where she is, but all I can see is the nearby bonfire. Turning, I stumble toward the farmhouse, before suddenly realizing that there's a figure coming toward me.

  "No!" I shout. "Someone help me!"

  "It's me!" a familiar voice shouts back, hurrying over and putting his hands on my arms for a moment. Realizing that it's Toad, I stand still as he unties the rope. "It's me," he says again, "don't worry. It's okay, she's not going to hurt you. Follow me."

  Still not able to see properly, I let him take me by the hand and lead me across the yard, until suddenly he forces me to stop. My heart is racing and I can't see properly, so I don't even know what's happening, but I guess all I can do is trust Toad.

  "Take your clothes off," he says, as I hear him moving what sounds like some kind of barrel.

  "What?" I ask breathlessly.

  "You're covered in gasoline," he replies. "Take your clothes off so I can wash it off."

  Figuring that I need to just do what he says, I pull my clothes off as fast as possible, until finally I'm standing naked in the yard, covering myself with my hands as much as possible. Reaching up to my face, I try to rub the gasoline from my eyes.

  "Not like that," Toad says, taking my hand and leading me over to the barrel. "This is rain water. Dip your face in here and open your eyes."

  "It hurts," I say, feeling the stinging sensation in my eyes getting worse and worse. "It -" Before I can finish, Toad grabs my head and dunks me face into the barrel. I struggle for a moment, before finally opening my eyes. The pain is still there, but I finally realize that he's only doing this to help me. When he lets go of my head, I keep it underwater for a moment longer before finally coming up for air.

  "You're lucky you're not permanently blinded," he says, placing his hands on my face and pulling my eyelids wide open. "Can you see properly?"

  I nod. Although my eyes still hurt, I can see much better now.

  "I thought you were dying," I say, looking at his bare chest and seeing the bandages on his shoulder.

  "I'll be okay," he replies, still examining my eyes carefully. "The worst of the fever has passed. Now crouch down so I can pour the water over you."

  Shivering and cold, I nevertheless do exactly what he says, and moments later he pours a deluge of cold water over my naked body. I let out a gasp, but finally he wraps a towel over my shoulders.

  "What did you do to her?" I ask, looking over at the bonfire and seeing Patricia's prone form on the ground. Turning back to Toad, I realize that there's a rifle slung over his shoulders.

  "The same thing she did to the others," he replies. "She was right about one thing. There's no law anymore, not really. We get what we can take, and she was going to take everything eventually. She couldn't trust you, and I couldn't trust her." He pauses. "But I trust you, and I hope the feeling's mutual."

  I nod.

  "You need to go inside and get warm," he continues. "I'll fix up the fireplace in the front room for you. Go and find some blankets and wrap yourself up. I'll take care of everything out here."

  Half an hour later, I'm sitting by a roaring fire in the farmhouse, with blankets covering my body. Toad made me wash several more times, to make sure that the last of the gasoline was off my skin, and my eyes are still stinging a little, but for the most part I feel as if I'm okay. The baby is sleeping on the floor nearby, but although I know I should be holding her, I feel somehow frozen in place. I can't help replaying the past few hours over and over in my mind, first the way Patricia killed the others so casually, then the way Bridger called for help from the bonfire, and finally the moment when she poured gasoline on my body and lit the match; these three memories are just spinning through my mind, and I can't think about anything else.

  "How are you doing in here?" Toad asks suddenly.

  Turning, I realize that I hadn't heard him entering the room. He walks over to the baby and crouches down to take a look at her.

  "Did you choose a name for her yet?" he asks, turning to me.

  I pause for a moment. "Rachel," I say eventually.

  "Nice name." Reaching down, he runs a finger across Rachel's chin. "Hello Rachel," he says after a moment. "I'm sorry things have been a little crazy. I can't promise there'll be much of an improvement in the immediate future, but I'll do my best to keep you safe."

  "It was..." I pause again, wondering whether I should open up to him. "It was my mother's name," I explain, feeling a rush of relief. I don't know why, but it feels good to have someone named Rachel around again, even if she's just a baby. I guess I'm still in mourning for my parents. "She... She was Rachel. I guess maybe it's stupid. If you want to change it -"

  "Rachel's fine," he replies with a faint smile. "I have no idea what kind of world she's going to grow up into, but at least she's got a good name."

  "Patricia's dead, isn't she?" I ask after a moment. "You killed her."

  "I had to," he replies. "She was going to kill you, so..." He pauses. "I put her on the bonfire with the others. I suppose that's poetic justice in a way. She was always so sure of herself. She kept talking about how important it was to make rational decisions, but at the end of the day, she was just out for herself, like everyone else."

  "I thought I was going to die," I tell him. "I mean, I really thought..." I take a deep breath. "That's twice in, like, two weeks that I've almost died. Is it always going to be like this?"

  "I have no idea," he replies, coming over and sitting next to me. "I guess the world is a pretty strange place right now, and no-one knows what's coming."

  "What are we... I mean, what are you going to do next?"

  He stares at the fire for a moment. "We have to decide whether we're going to stick it out here or head off somewhere else. I'm starting to think it might be smart to load the van up and get the hell away." He pauses. "Right now, however, I've got three things I want to do. First, I want to put some more logs on the fire, to keep us warm. Second, I want to change the bandage on my shoulder to make sure it doesn't get infected again. And third, I want to kiss you."

  As I turn to look at him, I feel a strange tightening sensation in my chest, almost as if someone just reached in, grabbed my heart and twisted it around several times.

  Without saying anything more, Toad gets to his feet and grabs some logs to toss onto the fire. It takes a couple of minutes for him to get the flames really roaring, and then he walks out of the room. I sit in silence, listening as he goes upstairs. For almost ten minutes, I just stare at the flames, feeling their warmth on my body and hearing the occasional creak of the floorboards as Toad moves around up there. He's sure taking his time, but I guess he needs to make sure his wound is clean. Finally, I hear him coming back downstairs and entering the room. He kneels next to me, with a new bandage on his shoulder, and after a moment he puts a hand on the side of my neck, gently pulls me closer, and kisses me tenderly.

  Epilogue

  He's dying now, and he knows it.

  The television is still on full volume, its picture lighting up the room with patterns and shadows that change every few seconds. Joseph would like to turn the damn thing off, but he lacks the energy. All he can do is remain on the sofa and wait for the end. He finds it somewhat ironic that his final
moments should be plagued by the sound of a bunch of news reporters, whose asinine gabble continues to flood the room with comment on matters that - as far as Joseph is concerned - don't matter at all. For Joseph, the television is one final representative of a world that is about to be snuffed out forever. The news anchors talk incessantly about things that don't matter, but when the real nightmare arrives, they'll be among the first to die.

  He reaches out to take the glass of water from his nightstand. His tired, aching hand fumbles for a moment, and the glass is knocked off the edge. As he hears the smashing sound, Joseph realizes that he doesn't have the strength to go and fetch more water. His lips are dry and parched, but now he'll just have to die without enjoying even one last sip. Opening his mouth, he tries to wet his lips with his tongue, but this too is dry and withered. His eyelids feel tight, and when he opens his eyes, he can feel the skin pressing hard against his eyeballs. His body has surrendered, and the end is coming. As he lets out an involuntary gasp, he realizes that in these final moments he has lost control of his body.

  And that's when he starts to cough.

  Violently, painfully, his body convulses in a series of desperate attempts to bring up phlegm. The agony is indescribable, but he can no longer scream. As the coughing fit subsides, he waits for the pain to stop pulsing through his body. He never expected that his death would be like this. He thought he would die quickly, that he would pass easily and without pain into the next phase of the plan. Unfortunately, this is the one part of the plan that he got wrong. He knows now that he has to die in the same tortured way as the others; in fact, he believes that the others might even die more quickly, whereas he - as the originator, the one who reorganized the world, the one who is closest to assuming his position as the world's new god - has to suffer in this way.

  Slowly, he starts to smile, cracking the dry skin at either side of his lips; as soon as the smile is complete, the last breath leaves his body, and finally the voices from the television are the only living things in the room.