by Cross, Amy
"Rachel?" I say, trying not to panic. "Are you okay?"
The smile lingers for a moment, and then she looks at the cup of puree. I scoop some out with a spoon and feed it to her, and she seems to be back to normal, but for a moment there she definitely had a very different expression. Although I try to tell myself that I mustn't panic, I can't help thinking that I've seen a very similar expression once before, back when I was talking to the creature in the pit. Then again, there's no way a baby could be infected. The world just can't be that cruel. I'm just imagining things.
I pause for a moment.
"Don't worry," I say finally, giving her another spoonful of puree. "Everything's going to be fine." Telling myself that I'm being paranoid, I focus on feeding Rachel, and I try to put any other worries to the back of my mind.
Thomas
"Christ, boy," George says as he examines the haul I've managed to collect on the back of the truck, "you're not doing too bad for yourself here, are you?"
"I've been saving," I reply, watching the end of his shotgun carefully and wondering if there's any way I can overpower him. So far, he doesn't seem to be quite as crazy as the old Eads guy, but I still don't like having a gun pointed in my face all the time and I definitely don't want to have a passenger on the drive to Chicago. Then again, right now I don't seem to have much of a choice.
"Wouldn't take much to get a run on him," I imagine Joe saying. "Come on, Thomas. You can't seriously let this old bastard tell you what to do. Wait 'til he's not looking and make sure you finish him with one good blow to the head. There's no room for being sentimental, not with the world ending all around you."
"You can stop with all your plotting," George says with a smile as he opens the bag of energy bars. "I know that's what you're doing every time you fall silent, and it won't work. I don't wanna pull the trigger on you, but I'll do it if that's what's needed. All that matters to me right now is getting to Chicago." He turns to me. "Take a few steps back, boy."
"I just -"
"Take a few steps back," he says again, more firmly this time. "I don't wanna start saying everything twice, you understand?"
Reluctantly, I step away.
"That's better," he replies, before hauling himself up onto the back of the truck. For a fraction of a second, he has to swing the gun away from me, but it's aiming at my face again before I have a chance to contemplate any kind of a move against him. He might be getting on in years, but he sure as hell seems pretty nimble. "So I heard you talking to yourself earlier," he continues. "Are you crazy?"
I shake my head.
"But you hear voices in your head?"
I shake my head again.
"Just a way of passing the time, huh?" He pauses. "I guess I can understand that. We've all gotta do whatever's necessary if we wanna stay sane. I used to think that all the noise of the world was pushing me to the brink of madness, but now it's all suddenly gone..." He wipes his brow on the sleeve of his coat. "Humans are pack animals, aren't they? Some of us like to be alone, but we're the weird ones, we're the..."
I wait for him to continue, but he seems to be just staring at me for a moment, as if he's still not quite sure what to make of me.
"Course, you can always just stay put," he says eventually, with a faint smile. "If you prefer, I'll take the truck and you can hang around here. I'd understand if heading into the heart of the city doesn't really appeal to you."
"It just seems like..." I pause for a moment, trying to find the right word.
"Suicide?" he asks.
"There are probably creatures there," I point out.
"It's quite possible," he replies, "but if I had to put money on it, I'd say something's holding 'em back. And even if there are some of 'em still going, there are probably people too, at least in the city. I figure it's time to take risks. Do you know how long it's been now since all of this started? Have you been keeping track?"
I shake my head.
"This is day forty-six," he continues. "That's a month and a half. I've been playing it safe, hoping that things would get better, but I'm just about out of patience now. There's no point clinging to life out here, desperately waiting for someone else to ride along and make everything better. I'm fully aware that by going into the city, I'm most likely signing my own death warrant, and maybe the fact that I'm an old man makes that easier to accept. The world has always been divided into two groups: those who go for the safe option, and those who take risks. Only difference now is, the safe option isn't really very safe, and the risks are much bigger."
"I know about risks," I tell him. "I killed my brother."
"Huh. Well, I'm not sure I wanna ask about that right now -"
"He got taken," I continue. "He became one of them, and then he tried to fight back. It didn't work out for him in the end, but he never went for the safe option either."
"Sounds like a good guy."
"He was an asshole," I reply. "I think he would've done better the way things are now, though. Maybe he was better suited to this kind of world. He had, like..." I pause, wondering whether it'd be disloyal to say what I'm really thinking. "He was one of those people who doesn't really have very good morals," I say eventually. "He looked out for himself more than for other people. That's not to say he was a complete bastard, but he definitely focused on himself."
"My daughter's the opposite," he says. "She's always been a good girl, the kind who'd do anything to help a stranger, and..." He pauses. "Well, I have to try, don't I? Even if the odds are a million to one, I have to go and check on her. 'Cause all over the world, there might be people like us, separated from their families, and at least some of 'em have to have a chance of being reunited, don't they? All that's left is family."
"Should I get in the front now?" I ask.
"Hold on a moment," he says. "I want to make this crystal clear, boy. I'm going to Chicago 'cause that's where my daughter and granddaughter are, okay? I need to check that they're okay, and nothing else much matters to me. So you see, I have no real need to keep you alive at all, and it wouldn't make much difference to me if I pulled the trigger right now and took your head clean off your shoulders. However, I like to think of myself as a good man, and for that reason I'm willing to give you a chance. You understand?"
"Sure," I reply, keen to defuse any suspicions he might have.
"Before you go thinking I'm some deluded old fool," he continues, "I want to make it very clear that I know full well how hopeless this is. If things are even half as bad as they look, the odds of finding my family alive aren't good, but I have to try. I don't care what happens to me, but if there's even a chance that I could locate them and help in any way, then I have to give it my best shot." He pauses, and for a moment there seem to be tears in his eyes. "If I find them, we'll have to work out what to do next," he adds finally. "If we don't find them, I'll just let you get off on your way."
Without saying anything else, I turn and make my way around to the front of the truck. I'm quite sure that the old guy has got his gun trained on me through the window in the back of the cab, but right now I don't even care. I was planning to go to Chicago anyway, although I was going to turn back at the first sight of any trouble. Now, however, it looks like we're going to go straight into the city, regardless of what we find at the limits. In a way, it feels good that the decision has at least been made, but as I start the engine and ease the truck away from the gas station's forecourt, I can't help thinking that this is most likely going to be my final journey. The creatures have to still be around, and sooner or later they'll catch up to us.
"You're gonna die in Chicago," Joe's voice says. "You know that, right? Maybe it'll be disease that gets you, or maybe it'll be one of those creatures, or maybe it'll even be this crazy old bastard with his shotgun, but you're gonna die there. This is the single dumbest decision you've ever made, and let's be honest, you've made a lot of dumb ones already."
"You're the expert," I whisper, making sure to keep my voice low so that G
eorge can't hear me.
"Just make sure it's a decent death," I imagine Joe saying. "My death was fucking horrible. God, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Can you imagine what it was like under that sheet, waiting for you to smash the spade down? Those final few seconds seemed to unwind like eternity, and then just when it seemed like you maybe weren't gonna go through with it, that goddamn thing came crashing down and split my head in two. I really thought..."
"I did what I had to do," I reply.
"I know you did," he'd say. "Just make sure you go out in style, okay? It used to be that people wanted to live as long as possible, but now I reckon the aim is just to search for a decent way to die. Maybe even noble. Do you think you can do that, Thomas?"
I don't reply, but then again, I don't need to reply. The whole conversation is going on in my head anyway, and Joe's voice is just a manifestation of my own thoughts. I know full well that heading to Chicago is suicidal, but even before I met George I was probably headed that way anyway. I don't want to die and I sure as hell don't want to run into any more of those creatures. Still, the old man is definitely right about one thing. It's better to face the risks than to die a slow, lingering death in the margins.
If Chicago's a brick wall, I'm driving straight into it at full speed.
Part Two
Day 47
Elizabeth
"What are you doing?" Toad asks as he comes through to the kitchen.
"What does it look like?" I reply, unable to hide a faint smile of satisfaction. "I'm fixing my shoes."
It's a little after sunrise and I've been working for the past hour to patch my shoes together. They started out as an ordinary, slightly weather-worn pair of sneakers, but now they're more like a pair of monster-shoes. I found some old shoes that used to belong to Patricia and the others, and I carefully removed all the soles and then glued them together before adding some stitching and wire. I know I've probably gone overboard, but I figure that's better than not preparing properly, and now I've got shoes that look like they'll last forever.
"Those things are insane," Toad says as he wanders over. He takes one of the shoes from me and examines it more closely. "Maybe we'll make a cobbler of you some day."
"I also cut some tarpaulin down and placed it in layers between the soles," I tell him. "I figured I needed to make them waterproof, but I added some ventilation on the top part, so my feet could breathe. I was worried about getting some kind of fungus or infection if I ended up with too much sweat between my toes."
I pause for a moment, surprised by myself.
"Do you work for hire?" he asks. "These are way better than anything I've got."
"Sorry," I reply, taking the shoe back from him and placing it on the floor. "I don't think I've got time." Slipping my feet into the shoes, I lace them up and then finally I stand, only to find that the extra soles have added a good two or three inches to my height, bringing me almost up to Toad's eye level. I can't help but feel that this is at least a little symbolic.
"Impressive," he says with a smile. "How does it feel to walk on them?"
I turn and make my way across the kitchen, and although the shoes are undeniably a little wobbly, I figure I'll get used to them. It's odd being taller, and I almost walk straight into a set of pans hanging on the wall. Stopping, I turn back to look at Toad and I can see from his expression that he's genuinely impressed. The truth is, I was determined to show him that I can take care of myself, so I guess it's a job well done.
"The weather's not looking good," he says, turning and heading over to the window. "There's rain coming."
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means water will fall from the sky," he replies with a faint smile. "On a more practical level, it means we might have to delay the start of our journey. I know we're going to have to deal with bad weather along the way, but we can at least wait until it clears up before we set off. If it hasn't passed by the middle of the day, we're probably better off waiting until tomorrow." He glances over at me. "It wouldn't hurt to be better-prepared, either. We could fix the bags up a little stronger, maybe rethink the food we're taking. Even the slightest mistake could -"
"You don't have to lecture me again," I reply, interrupting him. "I know we're not just going out for a walk in the country. It's going to be hard, it's going to be tiring, and we might not even make it. Before all of this started, the most I ever walked was from the front door of our building to the bus stop. I'm still a little unfit, but it's not going to hold us back. I can do this."
"I know you can," he replies. "Don't take this the wrong way, Elizabeth, but if I really thought you were gonna hold me back..."
I wait for him to finish.
"You'd leave me behind?" I ask.
"I'd have to think about it," he replies.
"I'd do the same," I tell him, even though I'm not sure it's true. "It's every man for himself right now."
"So what about that baby?" he asks.
"What about her?"
"She definitely will slow us down," he continues. "Do you really think it's a good idea to take her with us?"
"What's the alternative?" I ask. "Leave her here to die?"
"I'm just saying, taking her with us is definitely not a good use of resources." He pauses. "Then again, I guess we need to keep a little bit of our humanity, huh?"
"I'll look after her," I tell him. "I'll do it all, and we'll still be faster than you."
"I went to check the pit this morning," he replies with a smile. "You did a good job out there. There's nothing left but a few burned bones." He pauses for a moment. "So who do you think it was?"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"If someone in the house was infected," he continues, "who was it? We never found out. I don't think it was Patricia or Erikson, or Shauna, which means it must have been Bridger or Thor. I just wish I knew for certain."
"It doesn't matter now," I point out. "They're all dead."
"But none of them really seemed to be acting differently," he replies. "That's what worries me about the whole thing. I want to believe that I could tell if someone had changed like that, but I don't. I mean, right now, I can't even be sure that it wasn't you, and you can't be sure it wasn't me."
I pause for a moment, wondering whether to mention my concerns about Rachel. I keep replaying that moment over and over in my mind, trying to work out whether the look on her face last night was a sign of something worrying. No matter how hard I try to pretend that I imagined the whole thing, there's a part of me that seems to know there was something else happening behind her eyes. Still, I know that Toad's response would probably be to abandon her, and that's not something I can ever accept, so I need to stay quiet, at least until I'm certain that there's a problem.
"I don't believe for a second that it was you," I tell him. "Like you said, it was probably Thor or Bridger. Either way, whoever it was, they're gone."
"I know," he says with a sigh. "I guess I should stop worrying about every little thing. It's just in my nature to want to dig down and get to the truth every time."
"I should go and check on Rachel," I say finally, bending over to take my new shoes off. There's an awkward moment as I untie the laces, fully aware that Toad is watching me, and finally I place the shoes in the corner of the room before heading over to the door. "I guess we just have to wait for the weather, huh?" I say as I slip past him. "I hope it clears up soon. I want to get going."
"You're doing a good job, Elizabeth," he replies as I make my way to the stairs. "A really good job."
"I know," I reply, not looking back at him. "I don't need you to tell me that."
Smiling, he walks away.
"You're doing a good job too!" I call after him, but he doesn't reply. Still, I think I proved my point.
Thomas
"Stop!" George shouts, banging on the glass window in the back of the truck's cab. "Hey! Stop the vehicle!"
Muttering a few expletives under my breath, I park up at the s
ide of the road. We're not even at the city limits yet, and although the scene ahead looks completely deserted, I want to just keep going and get this over with. As George clambers down from the back of the truck, I can't help thinking that he's starting to become an annoying travel companion.
"Floor it," Joe's voice says suddenly. "Get the hell out of here!"
Suddenly I realize that he's right. As George makes his way around to the front of the truck, it occurs to me that I could hit the pedal and just drive away, leaving him stranded here. For a fraction of a second, I actually consider doing it, but finally I realize that there's no point. He's got a gun, and if I'm going into the city, I figure I should at least have him with me. Sighing, I open the door and climb out of the truck, and I force myself to not imagine how Joe would be reacting right now.
"What is it?" I ask as I wander over to George.
"Look at it," he replies, staring at the city up ahead.
"Look at what?" I ask, following his gaze. All I see is a mass of buildings, with skyscrapers rising up in the distance like tall, thin tombstones. It's strange to think that there's probably no-one alive in there, that whatever the hell is happening to the world has been happening not only in smaller towns but also in the biggest cities. Still, now that we're here on the outskirts, I feel more than ever that I want to keep going and get right into the heart of the damn place; I've spent long enough waiting to see what's going to happen, and I'm ready to go take a look for myself.
"Scared?" he asks after a moment.
"No."
"Seriously?"
"Definitely not."
"What kind of an idiot are you, then?" he continues, with a faint smile. "Only a fool or a blind man wouldn't be scared right now. I'm damn near soiling myself. God only knows what we're gonna find in there, but I don't see any movement. All things considered, I would say that if you're ever gonna be terrified of anything in your life, this would be a good moment."