2136: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Matthew Thrush

  Dr. A yelled down to me.

  ‘Are you coming up?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine just where I am, thank you,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t create the future from down there,’ she said. ‘Come and have a look. I promise you’ll want to see this.’

  I bit my lip and fidgeted with my hands. I was terrified of what might be in that glass tube and petrified not to find out. The scientist in me finally won over my fear, and I placed my foot on the first step.

  The metal ladder squeaked as I placed my full weight onto it.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dr. A encouraged, ‘It’s quite safe.’

  Tell that to all of them, I said under my breath, looking at the tubes a few feet to my left. White bubbles floated through the blue liquid to the surface. This puts a whole new meaning behind the word hibernation, I thought, looking at the brown bear. Nothing in this underworld dungeon is safe.

  I made it to the top and Dr. A reached out her hand to assist me to the next level of the platform. The metal jiggled as I added my weight to the doctor’s.

  ‘Are you sure this will hold us both?’ I asked, looking down at the floor below. We were only teen feet up, but the ground looked a hundred feet away.

  ‘We’re safe,’ she said.

  I neared the screen with the yellow and orange zigzags bouncing every which way.

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked.

  ‘We call these beta waves,’ she said.

  ‘What are they from?’ I asked.

  Her grim face from earlier was completely overshadowed by joy.

  ‘Have a look!’ she said.

  Another thin platform extended from the one we were standing on, positioned just under the lip of the aquarium’s ceiling. I tentatively stepped up and peered over the ledge.

  I fully expected to feel a shove on my back and go toppling down into my grave, but that never happened. What did happen sucked the life out of me.

  ≈ Chapter 50 ≈

  My eyes were locked on the lithe frame crouched at the bottom of the aquarium. The boy couldn’t have been more than five years old but he looked like an old man.

  I couldn’t turn my head to look back at the doctor to voice my confusion.

  ‘His name is Skylar,’ Dr. A said. ‘He’s the answer we’ve all been looking for.’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked.

  Skylar’s wrinkled skin was cracked and blistered with oozing sores. The patch of hair on the back of his scalp looked like a bird’s nest of stringy weeds. His arms held his knees tight to his chin.

  ‘We don’t know,’ the doctor said. ‘We hoped you might be able to help us with that.’

  That did get me to turn around.

  ‘Me? How could I possibly help? He’s just a boy!’

  ‘He’s not just a boy,’ the doctor emphasized. ‘He’s our future.’

  ‘I will not contribute to SIND’s vivisection! It’s one thing to experiment on animals. And God knows what you’ve been doing down here. But I’ll die before I ever help you torture innocent children!’

  The doctor didn’t seem fazed in the least.

  ‘We do not condone torture here, Willow, far from it. We are trying to save lives.’

  ‘Whose?’ I shouted. ‘It’s certainly not theirs!’

  I pointed at the thousands of giant blue test tubes—that’s what they were after all, weren’t they? And then at the boy, ‘Or his.’

  ‘I assure you, Willow, we are not murderers. Our intentions are pure—’

  ‘Of course they are!’ I said. ‘Isn’t that what every scientist says? We are saving lives. We do what is necessary to survive. This is a small sacrifice for the greater good. Isn’t that right? A necessary sacrifice?’

  The doctor didn’t respond. She stared at me, the joy completely eroded from her face and replaced with a sternness I haven’t seen since my mother reprimanded me at age six for disappearing during a solar spike. She found me three days later walking around the graves in the basement of a collapsed high rise. ‘I was in the catacombs,’ I had told her, confused as to why she was so upset. But she wouldn’t have it. I’ll never forget that day. I thought she was going to kill me.

  That same ferocious attachment and fear my mother had when she thought she had lost me was the same facial terror emitting from the doctor’s features.

  My words caught in my throat at the sight. Her eyes watered up as though she was about to cry, but no tears came. Instead, she punished me with her words.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘But you will.’

  She rushed at me and shoved her palms violently into my chest. My arms flailed in the air and grabbed for purchase, but my hands slipped on the smooth surface. The ceiling rolled into view as my stomach went horizontal. The momentary weightlessness was temporary before it was replaced with a biting pain in my back.

  I gasped for breath as the air was knocked right out of me. It took my brain a few seconds to realize what had just happened.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dr. A said from the top of the glass aquarium. ‘It’s for the greater good.’

  The cap closed and the glass tube filled with smoke. I swiveled my head to the side to see two big cobalt orbs staring at me.

  Skylar was awake.

  ≈ Chapter 51 ≈

  I backed away frantically, trying to put as much distance between myself and the skeleton boy as possible but the glass blocked my retreat after a few inches.

  My heart thrashed within my ribcage and my neck throbbed as it thrust blood to my limbs for flight. The only problem was, there was nowhere to flee to.

  I saw Dr. A walk around the ‘test tube’ and disappear down the same lit corridor we had come in through.

  I held my hands in front of me.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Skylar,’ I said.

  Who was I kidding? I hoped he wouldn’t hurt me!

  The little boy’s blue eyes watched me without blinking. His bony back rose and fell as his tiny lungs breathed in the filtered nitrogen from the gas tube mounted at the top of our prison. My fingers tingled and my head felt light the longer I breathed it in. I could feel my blood rushing from my limbs to my core. I immediately felt like I was burning from the inside but freezing on the outside. Must be pure nitrogen. Perhaps this wasn’t a cryogenic or cloning pod as I had first thought. Maybe it was a hyperbaric chamber of some sort, meant to purify and revive its hosts. Was that why they had left the boy here? Was he sick?

  Looking at the frail and cracked skin along his exposed torso and arms, I’d say he was definitely sick. He shifted suddenly and I let out a screech.

  The little boy covered his ears with his hands immediately and started thrashing. Once the echo stopped, he calmed and his hands fell back to his abdomen where he cradled himself like a wounded animal.

  I had one hand placed against the glass ready to flee, and the other stretched out before me as if holding an object in the empty space between this wounded child and myself would protect me if he suddenly chose to attack.

  ‘Easy,’ I soothed with a lower voice. ‘I didn’t mean to scream.’

  The boy’s body shivered as another short burst of nitrogen gas was pumped into the chamber. I saw his spine protruding like an exoskeleton of a prehistoric dinosaur. His ribcage stretched against his side, trying to break through the skin. Malnourished would have been an understatement. This poor boy was a walking corpse! I was surprised he was even still alive, or alert for that matter.

  ‘Is this better?’ I asked making sure my voice was calm and warm. I hoped it was.

  His eyes never left me as I maneuvered along the glass frame. Unlike the other tubes and chambers I had walked by and examined, this one was warm to the touch, which was highly peculiar if in fact this chamber was constructed for some form of cryogenesis. Perhaps it was both? Maybe the chamber pumped in nitrogen gas to purify the body of inflammation and distress then filtered in pure oxygen to over stimulate the body with pure O2. I got my answer
when I felt the rush of blood from my core to my limbs and a fullness in my lungs and mind that only comes from purified oxygen absorption.

  I knew that cryogenic treatments were good for rapid healing and recovery for injuries and inflammation, but I never heard of anyone being held in the chamber indefinitely, and then being subject to hyperbaric treatments as well. I could only imagine what that would do to a body.

  And as if hearing my thoughts, the little boy shifted ever so slightly, just enough to reveal half his face to me. So this is what happens, I thought. Or, was this to try and reverse his symptoms and physical appearance? They had mentioned attempting to reverse the signs of aging. Is that what they are trying to do here? Reverse the signs of old age on this boy? Or, had they caused this?

  ‘Who are you?’ the little boy asked suddenly, his voice shaking.

  My heart skipped and stopped beating for a half second. I found my hand that was on the glass scrunched up with my nails biting into my palm.

  ‘I’m—I’m a friend,’ I said.

  His eyes were like tiny blue microscopes piercing my mind for the truth.

  ‘I don’t know you,’ he said.

  He shifted again, and now three-quarters of his body was visible. His malnourishment was even worse than I had first thought. His entire stomach was inflamed to three times its natural size, and his arms were basically bone. He had scars and burns all along his hands and legs.

  I immediately felt sympathy for this boy. He reminded me of Zoey. Both had this innocence in their eyes, but their bodies told a different story, a torturous truth and reality that I prayed I never had to discover personally. Emotions I didn’t realize I had swept over me and I began to cry.

  The boy’s face tilted to the side as my hands cupped my face.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked, taking a slight step towards me.

  My tears paused when I saw him stretched towards me. That same fear leeched itself to my chest.

  ‘I-I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m just sorry for you.’

  The boy’s head swiveled to the other side.

  ‘Why?’ he asked; again taking a step closer to me.

  He was close enough now for me to hear his breathing. His nostrils flared with each inhale and his mouth wheezed as if his pharynx was blocked and every breath was a struggle.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I finally said. ‘I just am.’

  The boy’s hands lifted in the air towards me and I flinched instinctively. His blue eyes stared at me. I could see the hurt in those eyes. I found myself relaxing despite the fear welling up within me, tempting me to pummel this deranged child with my fists before he did the same to me.

  But my body was paralyzed in indecision as the first brittle finger touched my cheek. He retracted his hand immediately, cupping it to his chest as if he had burned himself.

  But like a child fueled with curiosity, he reached out his hand again and touched the auburn hair dangling in front of my face. The strands of hair slipped through the cracks of his fingers and draped over his bony arm. His eyes never left mine as his curious hands investigated my clothes, poked my arms, and touched my shoes.

  ‘You’re like me,’ he said after holding my hand in the air and placing his own within my palm.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  He released my hand and backed away to the edge of the glass and resumed his fetal position.

  ‘What do you mean, I’m like you?’ I asked again, but the boy wasn’t looking at me any longer. He had his hands and arms wrapped over his head and he started whimpering.

  I shifted towards him with my hand outstretched when a shadow fell over our glass prison and blocked out the blue light emitting from the edge of the tube. My eyes darted to the source just in time to see the figure crawling off through the rows of glass chambers like our own.

  The familiar tingle in my neck and jolt of fear I felt when the wolf was descending on me in the bus was gripping me tightly with its clenched hand.

  The boy started screaming as another large shadow shot across the room. My eyes followed it, but it was too dark, and the source too quick for me to get a good look.

  The boy was thrashing violently against the floor with both hands clawing at his face.

  I grabbed his arms forcefully to keep him from clawing out his eyes. Already his face had scratches and his nails dripped with blood.

  ‘Calm down,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

  ‘They’re coming,’ he cried, ripping his arms free of my grasp. He shuffled along the base of the chamber like a monkey on all fours and cowered behind me as three more shadows shot through my line of sight.

  My heart rattled with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

  ‘What’s out there?’ I demanded, having to shout to hear my voice over the boy’s screams.

  ‘They’re coming—they’re coming—they’re coming,’ he kept saying, clawing at his face.

  ‘Who’s coming?’ I asked, but when the shadows stopped moving and took form, the blue light of the path reflecting off their rotting bodies, I had my answer.

  My screams joined the boy’s as they rushed us.

  ≈ Chapter 52 ≈

  They pounded on the glass causing the entire tube to vibrate with the force.

  So far the glass was holding, but I didn't know how much longer that would last. Soon, more shadows darted out of the darkness and ran towards us. Their hands and mouths clawed and bit at the glass, trying to get in.

  ‘Can they get in?’ I asked the boy huddled behind me.

  His body was shaking and his face was buried in my back.

  ‘Don't worry,’ I said, ‘the glass will hold.’

  I prayed I was right.

  But when the chamber shifted on its axle and came off the ground, I lost all semblance of control. I started screaming as another one jumped on top of the glass chamber and pounded its hands against the metal shaft. Another yanked the feeding tube from the side and the nitrogen gas stopped flowing. That's when I heard them.

  Their growling and slurping sound shot through the hole where the tube had been. A rotting arm with most of the tissue removed from the bone shot through the hole and started clawing the air in our direction. I backed to the opposite end of the chamber, keeping the boy behind me.

  There were so many of them. They pounded, pushed, and shook the chamber until the weight of their bodies tipped us completely off our platform and we smashed into the ground. The glass chamber rolled along its side until it crashed into one of the other glass chambers hanging nearby. More decaying bodies swarmed over us, black pus oozing from their gaping mouths. Their eyes were empty sockets of death. The pupils were completely corroded with cataracts. Another one with its head hanging by its shoulder from a small strand of fresh pounded its body against the glass, its head whipping back and forth like a sling.

  ‘They're going to get us,’ the boy cried behind me.

  ‘No, they're not!’ I shouted in defiance and rushed at the arm suspended from the hole and pulled down hard.

  I groaned with the strain and pulled as violently as I could, releasing all the fear welled up inside. It rushed forth like a gushing dam through a tiny crack in its walling.

  I don't know what I was expecting to happen or what good it would do to grab the arm. I just needed to do something. But I wasn't expecting it to rip free of the socket and come writhing in the hole with me. The hand flopped along the inside of the glass at our feet, snapping at our heels like a shark out of water.

  I stomped on it until it stopped moving. Three more black and decayed arms shot through the hole in its place and reached for us.

  I heard a loud thud behind me and saw one of them tumble to the ground. Another rushed in with its head lowered and rammed its face right into the glass. It too fell limp to the ground on top of the other body. One after the other they rushed our glass tomb with their heads as catapults. On the fifth strike, a small crack formed on the glass.

  ‘The glass is
cracking!’ I squeaked and fell away from the walking corpses smashing their faces into the glass. Another thick thud reverberated through the glass as another head split the crack a little wider before falling to the ground dead. The lifeless beasts stumbled and flopped over the fallen bodies to try and break in. Thankfully, due to the crazed maniacs smashing, they had formed a large pile and prevented the others from getting a full running start.

  The crack splintered into several streaks and crisscrossed all along the side of the glass chamber opposite where the boy and I were huddled in a tight ball.

  ‘They're going to get in,’ the boy whimpered in my arms.

  My hands were wound around his frail shoulders. His head was braced up against my breasts as the undead used every part of their rotting bodies to break the glass—and it was working. More of them were standing on top of the chamber now and the sheer weight of their bodies was enough to enhance the crack. The entire wall was a cobweb of fissures.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ the boy asked, his deep blue eyes looking up at me.

  Those eyes sucked what life I had left from me. Now I knew what my mother felt when she had thought she lost me all those years ago. The feeling of helplessness and regret were too much.

  I placed the boy behind me and held his shoulders with my hands. I looked him in those unnaturally large cobalt blue orbs and said with as much confidence and determination I could muster:

  ‘I won't let them get you. Even if it kills me.’

  I turned to face the dead digging their way in. It was only a matter of time now before it caved in and they would have their prize.

  ‘You will not harm him,’ I said with authority at the decayed, torn, or half-eaten faces staring back at me. ‘I won't let you.’

  I heard the splintering of ice sheets shattering. The first hungry body broke the barrier.

  I rushed towards the first one with my fist held high the little boy's screams a fire igniting my motherly defense mechanism and survival instinct.

  My knuckles shattered the remaining bits of bone and teeth from the first one's face with a squish. My hand went right through its cheek and out the other side. I tore my hand free and smashed my elbow into another that had wiggled in behind. The bony appendage obliterated its nose and eye sockets with a crack. Its body toppled to the ground along with the other. Two more fell in and I met them head on with swinging fists. Both knuckled hammers met rotted sinew and tore holes through their skulls.