Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Third Series (Days 46 to 53)

by Cross, Amy

  "Thank you," I say eventually.

  "Here," he says, grabbing a blanket from the rucksack and putting it over my shoulders. His hands are shaking, and although I want him to just walk away right now, I figure he has to do this his own way.

  "Thanks," I reply as I settle down to rest.

  "I'll -" he starts to say, but his voice trails off.

  I stay awake for a while, listening to the sound of him fiddling with the rucksack. I feel strangely calm, and when I finally close my eyes, I find myself imagining what it'll be like when Toad and Rachel reach safety. I hope that one day he'll be able to tell her about me, and although there's not a chance in hell that she'll remember anything about this part of her life, she might at least realize that after her mother died, there was someone else who took care of her. I know there's a chance that she's sick, or maybe even infected, but right now I feel that she at least has hope. I helped her get this far, and now Toad's going to help her to keep going. She'll be fine.

  Eventually, finally, I slip into sleep. I just hope that Henry and the rest of my family are waiting for me.

  Thomas

  "Most of them don't know about this," Quinn says as she leads us through the door, into the wrecked remains of an old sandwich bar. "I prefer to keep a tight rein on information."

  I don't reply, because I don't really know what to say. This woman seems... off somehow. For one thing, back on the platform she actually seemed to be pleased with me for running someone over with the truck; for another, she clearly has the loyalty of the people who were gathered in the crowd, but I can't see why that might be. So far, Quinn is coming across as a kind of scatty woman whose thought processes don't entirely make sense. I don't trust her at all.

  "We're heading down the rabbit-hole," George whispers, keeping pace with me.

  "Should we try to run?" I ask.

  "I can hear you!" Quinn says, stopping up ahead and opening a cabinet to reveal a laptop, which she removes and places on a table in front of us. "Please don't whisper to each other. If you want to discuss me, or to talk about the situation in any way, you might as well just do it in the open. I don't bite, I promise."

  "We were just trying to figure out how crazy you are," George says, with a hint of derision in his tone. "My vote is that you're about a six on the scale, but you're playing to the crowd and trying desperately to seem more like a ten. People like you aren't exactly rare." He turns to me. "What about you, Thomas? Do you think she's faking it?"

  I stare at Quinn, who's too busy plugging the laptop into some kind of large black box.

  "Thanks to a very complicated system that I set up," she explains, "I've been able to generate small quantities of electrical power and store them in some redundant batteries. I know, I'm a genius, but this is a time for geniuses, so what else can I do other than step up to the plate? Most people, they're not very smart, but I am, and that's why I get to do all the fun things, like this -"

  She presses a button on the laptop, and it whirs into action.

  "Impressed?" she says, turning to us.

  "Mildly," George mutters.

  I watch as the laptop boots up. To be honest, I never thought I'd see anything like this again. It's only been about a month and a half since the world went to hell, but the laptop already feels like something from another age, almost as if it's out of place in the new order. Nevertheless, even though I keep expecting it to break down, it eventually completes the boot process.

  "There's no internet," Quinn says with a smile. "I'm not that smart. Hell, I only really started the damn thing out of nostalgia, the first time at least. But I know a thing or two about computers, so I started rooting around and managed to link a low-frequency transmitter to the system, and that's when I came across something very interesting." Turning to the machine, she opens some kind of dialog box and types in a series of commands.

  As she continues to work, I walk over to join her. I don't know a lot about computers either, but I can tell that she's working in a DOS dialog box, and once I'm close enough to see the screen properly, I realize she's using the transmitter to ping a server. I stare at the command lines, and at first I tell myself that I must be misunderstanding what I'm seeing, because it looks a hell of a lot like she's getting some kind of signal back from a remote location.

  "Someone's out there," she says, turning to me. "You understand what you're looking at, right? Someone's running a server."

  "Who?" I ask.

  "I don't know that," she replies. "Jesus, if I knew that, I wouldn't have to keep digging, would I? I'm not a mind reader. I've been trying to narrow down the physical location, but so far I haven't had any luck. There are programs I could use, but I don't have them, and I'm not gonna try writing them myself. Still, there's no doubt about it. Someone out there is running a server, and as far as I can tell it's up all the time, which indicates a stable and continuous power source, which indicates..."

  I wait for her to continue.

  "Well?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "You seem reasonably smart. What does it indicate?"

  "Someone's out there," I reply, staring at the screen.

  "Someone's out there and they've got a system running," she continues. "A proper system, with a proper power source. Much better than this pile of junk I managed to rig together. Given current conditions, that's hardly the work of a moment. It's clear that we're talking about someone who knows what they're doing, someone with resources and intelligence. And then there were the booms."

  "The booms?"

  "You must have heard the booms. Everyone heard the booms. It was like the whole planet shook. The last one was a few weeks ago, and they've been completely irregular, but they have happened."

  "I remember," I tell her. "I just figured something was exploding somewhere."

  "Oh, you're such an optimist," she replies, patting me on the shoulder. "No, something's going on out there, something big and something... Something that someone's controlling. In all this chaos and dust, someone has managed to either retain or regain control of at least some of the old techniques. The world isn't collapsing into disorder after all. If we can find whoever's running this server, we can make contact with other groups like our own, and then we can think about rebuilding properly. This is the beginning of... something!"

  "What if it's just automated?" I ask.

  "The power supply can't be automated, not after all this time. It would have cut off. Someone's keeping it running."

  I turn to George.

  "Don't ask me," he says with a shrug. "You two might as well be talking in goddamn Mandarin for all I understand."

  "It's a computer system," I tell him. "Someone's got a server going and it's broadcasting a signal."

  "It must be powerful, too," Quinn adds. "It's quite faint, but it's distant too. I don't think it's coming from within the city. It could be fifty, maybe sixty miles away, but that's really just an educated guess. I need to find a way to calculate the direction, 'cause right now it could be based anywhere in that radius, maybe even further."

  "Great," he replies, "but why? What's the point?"

  "Good question," Quinn continues. "I doubt it's just there for the benefit of people like us. Someone's planning something, maybe they were even planning it before all of this crap started to happen. But don't you see? There's order in the chaos. This one, lone signal is proof that the whole world hasn't fallen apart. Someone's out there. It's like a test. They want to make contact, but only with people who have the ability to find them."

  "That's something of a stretch," George points out.

  "It's a new world order," she continues, ignoring him. Whatever else I might think about her, I can't deny that she's filled with enthusiasm. "It's the start of something huge and wonderful. The human race could never have continued along its old course. Over-population, diminishing resources... We were headed for a crash, so really this whole thing has been a huge blessing. It almost makes me want to believe in God."

  Staring at her
, I realize that she might have lost her mind. It's almost as if she's enjoying this, as if she thinks it's some kind of huge game.

  "So..." I pause as I try to work out what I'm supposed to say next. "What do we do?" I ask eventually. "There's a signal, but now what?"

  "I'm glad you asked," she replies, with a mischievous grin. "I've got a plan. We have to go and find the source of this signal. It's almost like a test, a way for us to prove that we're smart enough. Only the best can survive in this strange new world, and those who are too dumb or too weak are just going to have to..." She pauses, and it's almost as if she's enjoying the situation. "You did such a good thing when you ran that girl over," she continues. "She was worthless, just another piece of human flotsam drifting through life. So we're going to have to continue your good work and thin out the ranks by leaving the detritus behind, and then we're going to march forward and embrace the future of the human species. It makes sense, doesn't it? The whole thing makes perfect, crystal clear sense!"

  I look at George.

  George looks at me.

  "Come on," Quinn continues. "Face the future!"

  Staring at her, I realize that she's actually serious. She isn't horrified or shocked by the fact that I ran that girl over; she thinks it's a good thing, and she thinks it means that I'm like her. I want to tell her she's insane, but at the same time I'm worried about making her angry.

  "So what do you say?" she continues, holding a hand out toward me as the smile finally leaves her face, replaced by a darker expression that hints at danger. "Are you with me, or are you against me?"

  Elizabeth

  "Toad?"

  Sitting up suddenly, I realize I must have been asleep for several hours. Sweat is pouring down my face and I feel as if I'm burning up, and as I look around the clearing, I'm shocked to find that the light is starting to fade. A kind of hazy gray dusk is descending, making the whole place seem almost unreal.

  "Toad?" I say again, wiping my eyes.

  No answer.

  "Toad?"

  I look around, but there's no-one here. For a moment, I can barely remember anything that has happened over the past few days. Memories of the farm are mixed with older memories, of Henry and my family, of that psychopath Bob and... The fever seems to be keeping me from thinking clearly, but eventually I remember my ankle, and then I remember the conversation I had with Toad a few hours earlier.

  "Rachel?" I call out, pulling the blanket close as I feel a cold breeze blow past.

  Silence.

  "Rachel?"

  When I try to get to my feet, I immediately find that my balance is a little off, and it doesn't help that my ankle is throbbing. Crawling on all fours, I make my way over to where Toad placed the rucksack earlier, but it's gone. Taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm, I finally realize that he did what I asked: he took Rachel and he left. I guess he wanted to wait until I was asleep, so he wouldn't have to endure some long, drawn-out goodbye. Still, it's good that he left. If he'd stayed, we all would have died. He did the right thing.

  And now I'm alone.

  I look across the clearing.

  This is it.

  This is where I'm going to die.

  Elizabeth Marter, born in a New York hospital, raised in Manhattan, and died in a forest shortly after the collapse of civilization...

  Reaching down, I touch my ankle and find that it's swollen even more. The pain is intense, but in a strange way it's also bearable. I feel as if my whole body's on fire, which I guess means that the infection is spreading. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the early evening sky. This is probably the last time I'll ever see the world, but my mind is too muddled to take it all in. All I can think about is the fact that somewhere out there, Toad and Rachel are continuing the journey, making their way toward a possible future. I know it's still a long-shot, but at least they have a chance, which is more than they would have had if they'd stayed here with me.

  "Dear God," I say out loud, "please look after them. Keep them safe. Forget about me, but make sure Rachel gets a chance to grow up. Please, whatever has to happen to me, just keep her safe. Just... please..."

  I wait, hoping that there might be some kind of reply, but instead the pain in my ankle seems to be building. I hold my breath, trying to push the pain back, but it's no use. Digging my fingers into the ground, I hold on tight, desperately forcing myself to stay strong; as the pain gets worse, I dig my fingers deeper, but it's not working and finally I let out an agonized scream that seems to last forever.

  Part Four

  Day 49

  Thomas

  Sitting by the window, I watch as the first rays of sunlight start to spread across the remains of the city. Shorn of human attention, the skyscrapers look old and abandoned now, and it's hard to believe that this was once a bustling home to millions of people. Every building has become a kind of tomb, filled with the bodies of those who fell and died when this catastrophe hit. Somehow, I feel as if we should abandon the cities now and leave them undisturbed, as a mark of respect to the people whose lives were lost.

  "Are you thinking anything specific," George asks suddenly, "or just staring vacantly out the window?"

  I pause, not really knowing what to say.

  "I'll tell you what I'm thinking," he continues. "I'm thinking about the past. I'm thinking about the people I took for granted, and all the things I never got a chance to say. I'm thinking about the world that was suddenly pulled away, like part of some magician's trick. I'm thinking about how complicated everything was, and how quickly it was destroyed."

  "I'm thinking about the future," I reply, not turning to him. Instead, I keep my eyes focused on one particular building, which towers a little higher than its neighbors. There's no point to its existence now. It might as well fall down. If I could, I'd destroy the city completely. I hate the idea of Chicago, like every other city, still standing now that most of the people are gone.

  "What about the future?" he asks.

  "Whether there'll be one."

  "I'm sure Lady Macbeth'll be along shortly," he continues. I hear him shuffling over to join me, and eventually he sits a few feet away. "She doesn't seem like the kind of person who has much downtime, if you know what I mean. I'd rather avoid her, if possible. What are your plans?"

  "Plans?" I turn to him.

  "There was talk yesterday about some people who left town," he replies. "Just a handful, but apparently they headed north. I've been thinking, maybe Melissa and Katie were with them. I know it's a long-shot, but right now it's the only shot." He pauses, and it's clear from the look in his eyes that he knows there's no chance. "If I stop looking for them," he adds, "I'll die. I'll just sit down and waste away, or God help me I'll find a gun from somewhere and I'll blow my goddamn brains out. I know this is going to sound pathetic, but they're all I've got left. Even if I only catch up to them briefly, or I just hear from someone that they got away, I need to know they're okay. Once I've done that, there's nothing else I want in the whole world. I can..."

  His voice trails off, but I figure I know what he was going to say.

  "Are you gonna head north?" I ask.

  "Got no choice. If that's where they went, then it's where I'm going too. I don't believe in miracles, but this once... What about you?"

  I open my mouth to reply, but the truth is, I have nowhere to go. Sure, there's Martha out in California, but even if she survived all of this, there's no way I could ever hope to find her. She might have gone back to the farm, in which case she'll have found nothing but a set of burned ruins, and then what? If Joe and I had been smarter when we left, we'd have put some kind of message up for her, but then again it's not as if we even knew where we were going when we set off. Whatever we'd said, it would have been useless by now. I guess we could just have written goodbye, but at the time we were focused on hitting the road. Still, I figure I shouldn't spend too much time thinking about Martha. She's probably dead, anyway.

  "I don't suppose you fancy m
aking the trip north, do you?" George continues. "I sure could use that truck of yours. I've got a bad knee, did you know that? I'm a brave soldier and I hide it, but my left knee feels like there's razor blades tucked between the bones. Imagine me trying to make such a long journey on foot. I doubt I'll last more than a couple of days."

  "I don't know," I reply. "I think..." Taking a deep breath, I try to imagine another long journey, but I'm too tired to even think about traveling anywhere. "I think I wanna stay here for a bit," I tell him, "and then head off somewhere else once I'm rested. I don't know how long."

  "I can't stick around. Every second I'm here is another second that they're getting away. I figure I'll try to find out some more information about whatever direction they took, and then I'll strike out this afternoon. I'd like to say I'll keep in touch with you, boy, but we both know that's not gonna be possible. With the world as it is, I reckon there are gonna have to be an awful lot of goodbyes."

  "It's okay," I tell him. "I understand."

  "That little girl..." He pauses, and there are tears in his eyes now. "Katie's the most wonderful child you could ever meet. She's fearless and smart and kind. I know the world's in a terrible state right now, but I refuse to believe that anything bad could have happened to her. Maybe I'm naive, maybe I'm stubborn, but my granddaughter is too precious to fall victim to whatever the hell's going on. It doesn't make sense that someone as good as her would be cut down by this random misery. No god would allow it. It's not natural."

  I want to argue with him, to point out that his granddaughter is almost certainly dead, but at the same time I don't want to take his hope. He's going to head off toward the horizon, looking for his family, and even though I'll never see him again I know that this is something he has to do. He's basically heading off to his death, but there's nowhere else for him to go. In a way, I admire him; he knows what he's going to do with the rest of his life, whereas I'm just stuck here with no reason to go and no reason to stay.