Mass Extinction Event (Book 1): Days 1-8

by Amy Cross

  "I can see you!" he calls out again. "I can see you all! You're right there." He's only a few meters away now. "It worked," he continues. "I can see you! It's dark out here in the sun, but I can see you! I can see you! I can see all of you. Help me out of here! Help me up! Help me in!." He reaches up toward me, and I step back in order to keep well away from his rotten, discolored hand. "Help me!" he rasps. "I need to rest. Take me into the house."

  Chapter Five

  Manhattan

  "He's trapped in there," Henry says firmly, with the gun aimed directly at the car. "He can't get out. Just focus on that. He can't get to us. He's trapped."

  "Uh-huh," I reply, glancing along the street. "And what if he's not alone?"

  "We're safe," Henry says, his voice wavering a little. I can tell he's terrified, but I guess he's determined to act like he's in control of the situation. In fact, over the past couple of days, he's started to become more and more like a pint-sized parody of Bob. "It's okay, Elizabeth," he continues. "We need to find out what's happening here."

  "I can see you!" the man shouts again, narrowing his eyes a little. "I can see all of you. Help me out of here! Help me up! Help me in!" He blinks a couple of times. "Help me! I need to rest. Take me into the house."

  "He's crazy," Henry whispers to me.

  "It's taken me all this time," the man continues. "I've had to learn it all again. I thought it'd be instant, but it's taken me a while to work out how to even do the simple things. How long has it been? Can someone tell me the date? Things look so different." Slowly, he raises his hand again, and he stares at his fingers as if they're the most amazing thing he's ever seen. "This one, anyway," he says. "Each one is slightly strange, but I'm learning. It's so unusual, losing all the little things." He looks back at us. "Why can't I get you all? Why are you still here? You were there when he attacked me."

  "Should we say something?" I whisper to Henry.

  "Like what?" he hisses back at me. "Seems like he's having his own private conversation."

  "I heard that!" the man shouts. "Why can't I hear you? This is so much different to how I planned. I should have known. I suppose I was arrogant, but that's in the past. I don't remember anything after the airport. What was her name? Where am I? Not me. What did you say? Where's the real me? Where's the first one? They all look the same." He pauses for a moment. "Help me," he says eventually. "I think I need to find the original."

  "I don't know what he's talking about," Henry whispers to me. "It's not making any sense."

  "He mentioned the airport," I reply, suddenly filled with the idea that maybe this guy, even in such a terrible state, might be able to tell us what happened out there. The airport is where our parents were, back when this whole thing started, and I've been clinging on to this increasingly desperate hope that perhaps they might have survived. Stepping forward, but making sure I don't get too close, I stare straight into the man's eyes for a moment. "What happened at the airport?" I ask, shaking so hard, my teeth are almost chattering. "Did you see what happened out there?"

  "It was bad everywhere," he replies, his yellowy eyes staring at me. "I knew it'd be bad, but it was worse than I could ever have imagined. Or better. One of the two, anyway." He pauses. "I'm not talking to you."

  "Did people get away from the airport?" I ask. "Did people survive? Are they coming this way? Is that where you came from? The airport?"

  "Who's Joe? Which airport? There are so many. The world's filled with airports, you know."

  "Let's get out of here," Henry says, grabbing my arm. "Elizabeth, we need to get moving. We need to get Bob. He'll know what to do."

  "Who's Bob?" the man asks, frowning.

  "This guy might know about our parents," I say to Henry, pulling away from his grip.

  "Elizabeth!" he hisses. "Look at him! He doesn't even know where he is! It's like his brain's totally garbled."

  "I'm not sorry about your mother," the man says suddenly. "Even if you burn it, you won't achieve anything. Burn the whole planet, you still won't get it all. You can't teach poor old Joseph about these things. You can't even begin to..." His voice trails off.

  "What about my mother?" I ask. "Tell me about her."

  "You have no idea how long it took me to get here," he continues. "I had to drag myself through the bushes. I was so slow, and I was distracted by so many things. It's not easy, using all these things at once. Even after everything that happened, there are so many to deal with. It's so much harder than I guessed. I got so many things right, and so many things wrong. It's taken me so long to understand my limitations, but it doesn't really matter. I'm working through it. That's one of the best parts of the whole thing, really. I can continue to learn as I go along. I can work out more and more." He pauses. "Of course it doesn't make sense to you. You're an idiot. If it made sense to morons like you, the world would never have got into this mess in the first place."

  "You mentioned my mother," I say firmly, feeling as if I might cry at any moment. "Did you see her? What happened to her?"

  "Elizabeth!" Henry hisses. "He doesn't even know Mom and Dad. You can't trust anything he says, he's lost his mind. Come on! We need to go and get Bob!"

  "What happened at the airport?" I ask, inching closer to the man in the car. "Tell me what happened at the airport."

  "Probably the same as everywhere," the man replies, looking down at the car door. "I can do this," he says after a moment. "I can definitely do this. I could do it before. It's just going to take a little time. This grass is so cold and damp. Help me into the house." He seems to be fiddling with something in the car, and suddenly there's a clicking sound.

  "Get back!" Henry shouts, pulling me away from the vehicle as the door swings all the way open and the man hangs out, still held back by his safety buckle.

  "I have to learn everything again," the man says. "Even that stupid car door took me so long. Why can't I get out now? Is there something? I forgot about timezones. Can you believe I was so stupid? It never occurred to me that it might be the middle of the day in New York but the middle of the night in Tokyo. Day and night at the same time." He pauses for a moment, and then suddenly, with no warning at all, he lets out a loud and terrifying scream, as if he's in agony.

  "Fuck this," Henry says, raising the barrel of the rifle.

  "What are you doing?" I ask him.

  "Putting this son of a bitch out of his misery," he replies, aiming carefully as the man continues to scream as loud as possible.

  "You can't kill him!" I shout, pushing the gun away just as he pulls the trigger. The shot echoes between the tall buildings, and a piece of masonry explodes in a shower of dust.

  "Fuck you!" Henry shouts, pushing me back. Losing my balance, I topple down to the ground. Before I can get back up, Henry aims once again and fires. This time, he's right on target: I look over at the car just in time to see the man's upper chest explode in a shower of blood; he jolts for a moment, and his arm twitches a couple of times before he falls completely still.

  "Come on," Henry says, grabbing my arm as I stand up. "We're going back!"

  "Why did you do that?" I ask, watching as blood and pus flows out of the man's chest and down onto the tarmac. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

  "Let's just go," Henry says, pulling me along the street. "We can talk about it later."

  "You didn't have to do that," I say. "He wasn't come at us. He was just talking."

  "He was fucked," Henry replies firmly. "You heard him. He was talking crap."

  "So you shot him?"

  "I had to make a decision."

  "Are you okay?" I ask as we reach the corner and make straight for our building. "Henry, seriously, is something wrong?" When he doesn't reply, I decide to just wait a few minutes. I don't care how tough he acts, he has to be affected by the fact that he killed that man. There's also the question of the man himself, and the things he said. Even though he was talking, he looked dead. I don't believe in ghosts and zombies and things like that, but I k
now enough to trust my own eyes. As we reach the building and head into the lobby, I can't help glancing back the way we came, just in case there are more of those things outside. Suddenly, this city feels like a far more dangerous place.

  Chapter Six

  Oklahoma

  As the dead cop continues to crawl toward me, I keep stepping back. There's a part of me that wants to run, but at the same time I'm almost mesmerized by his appearance. With his discolored skin and his yellow eyes, he bears more than a passing resemblance to my mother, and to Lydia, after they were killed by the virus, and it looks as if there's blood all over his shirt. It's almost as if he burst but somehow managed to stay alive. Still, he's moving so slowly, I'm pretty sure I can keep away from him without too much trouble. It's not like he can suddenly leap out and surprise me.

  "You need to help me out," he continues, his voice sounding so old and tattered, as if the process of decay has spread all the way down his throat. "They rotted. When I tried to open the door, they just sloshed right off my wrists. It's taken me all this time. I've had to learn it all again. I thought it'd be instant, but it's taken me a while to work out how to even do the simple things. How long has it been? Can someone tell me the date? Things look so different."

  "What do you want?" I ask, still edging away from him. As he crawls closer, I can see patches of bone poking through from beneath his skin.

  "This one, anyway," he says, frowning at me. Whatever he's talking about, it's as if he's not really reacting to anything I'm saying. "Each one is slightly strange, but I'm learning. It's so unusual, losing all the little things." He looks at me for a moment, as if he finds me to be the most fascinating and confusing thing he's ever seen. "Why can't I get you all? Why are you still here? You were there when he attacked me."

  "That was him, not me," I say. "Joe attacked you. I didn't have anything to do with it. I told him not to do it. I thought he was just gonna shoot you!"

  "I heard that!" the man shouts suddenly. "Why can't I hear you? This is so much different to how I planned. I should have known. I suppose I was arrogant, but that's in the past. I don't remember anything after the airport. What was her name? Where am I? Not me. What did you say? Where's the real me? Where's the first one? They all look the same."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask. "You're not making any sense. Where did you come from? Can you even hear me?" Still fighting the urge to run, I find it hard to believe that this guy is still alive. I can't help thinking that maybe his brain is technically dead, but somehow it's firing off impulses that are driving his body forward. Frankly, that's the only explanation that makes sense: this is some kind of freak reaction, like a malfunction of a human body that has already died.

  "Help me," he says after a moment, almost sounding as if he's pleading with me. "I think I need to find the original."

  "What?" I reply. "Did you come here for help? We can't help you! There's nothing we can do for you!" Turning to look over at the barn, I realize I need my brother to see this. "Joe!" I shout, trying not to sound too panicked.

  "It was bad everywhere," he hisses. "I knew it'd be bad, but it was worse than I could ever have imagined. Or better. One of the two, anyway."

  "What the hell are you on about?" I say, moving away as he crawls a little closer to me.

  "I'm not talking to you," he says.

  "Joe!" I shout, looking over toward the barn again. "Joe! Wake up!"

  "Who's Joe? Which airport?" the cop asks suddenly. "There are so many. The world's filled with airports, you know."

  "I didn't say anything about any goddamn airport," I spit back at him. "There's no airport around here."

  "Who's Bob?" the man asks, frowning.

  "There's no Bob," I say. "You're fucking losing your mind." It's pretty clear that the cop's brain is totally addled, probably after crawling through the grass for days on end. I wouldn't even be surprised if he's got maggots and stuff crawling through his body. Grabbing one of the cans of gasoline, I remove the cap and throw some over the cop's body. He doesn't seem to react at all, so I carefully move around him and tip the rest of the can over him. Joe was supposed to finish this guy off the other day, but now I'm going to make sure that his suffering is over.

  "I'm not sorry about your mother," he says suddenly, as if he doesn't care what I'm doing.

  "I'm gonna burn you and I'm gonna burn this house," I say, starting to panic. "I know it's gonna hurt at first, but trust me, it's better than leaving you here. Something's wrong with you, but hopefully you can't even feel pain, okay?" Taking a deep breath, I look up at the darkening sky. "Dear Lord," I mutter, "please forgive me for what I'm about to do. I'm only trying to save him from more pain."

  "Even if you burn it, you won't achieve anything," the cop replies. "Burn the whole planet, you still won't get it all. You can't teach poor old Joseph about these things. You can't even begin to..." His voice trails off. "You have no idea how long it took me to get here," he continues eventually. "I had to drag myself through the bushes. I was so slow, and I was distracted by so many things. It's not easy, using all these things at once. Even after everything that happened, there are so many to deal with. It's so much harder than I guessed. I got so many things right, and so many things wrong. It's taken me so long to understand my limitations, but it doesn't really matter. I'm working through it. That's one of the best parts of the whole thing, really. I can continue to learn as I go along. I can work out more and more." He pauses. "Of course it doesn't make sense to you. You're an idiot. If it made sense to morons like you, the world would never have got into this mess in the first place."

  "You're sick," I say. "I don't know if you can understand me, I don't know if you can even hear me, but I'm gonna try to explain it to you real careful and real slow, okay? You're sick. You're really, properly sick, and you're gonna die. I don't know why you're not dead already, but you're gonna die a slow and painful death. I'm gonna save you from that. This is for the best. I'm not murdering you, I'm helping you."

  "Probably the same as everywhere," he replies, almost as if he's having some other conversation in his head. "I can do this. I can definitely do this. I could do it before. It's just going to take a little time. This grass is so cold and damp. Help me into the house. I have to learn everything again. Even that stupid car door took me so long. Why can't I get out now? Is there something? I forgot about timezones. Can you believe I was so stupid? It never occurred to me that it might be the middle of the day in New York but the middle of the night in Tokyo. Day and night at the same time."

  "Please don't hate me," I mutter. Fumbling for the box of matches in my pocket, I take a deep breath, realizing I'm gonna have to just burn him. We're far enough from the truck now, so it shouldn't be dangerous. Striking the match, I watch the flame for a few seconds before looking down at the cop. He's a few feet from me still, so I figure this is the perfect moment. I have no idea why he wants to reach me, but there's no way I'm gonna let him touch me, and I don't think he's gonna stop until I do this. It's for the best. I'm saving him from the agony of his condition.

  "I'm sorry," I say weakly, staring at him, "but this is the only thing I can do to help you." Without wasting another second, I throw the match at him. Instantly, his entire body goes up in flames, and he lets out a brief scream before falling silent. I stand back, watching in shocked awe as he seems to briefly roll onto his side before he twitches a little and then becomes completely still. For a fraction of a second, I think I can maybe hear him still screaming, but I can't be certain. What matters, though, is that after I've stood and watched the flames for a couple of minutes, I realize he's definitely dead. As the fire continues to rage, I can see the faintest outline of one of his hands, reaching out from the inferno but remaining completely still as the flames start spreading to the surrounding grass.

  Chapter Seven

  Manhattan

  "We're going to have a new system," Bob says as he flips the steaks on his little portable stove. "We can't affor
d to have this place unguarded, not even for a second, not now we know for a fact that there are possible threats out there. I want the lobby door locked at all times, and I want someone sitting with a rifle, facing that door, every single hour of the day and night. If anyone tries to get in, we meet them with maximum, lethal force." He slides a steak onto Henry's plate, then one onto mine, and finally a third onto his own. "Until we know definitively what's happening, I'm not taking any chances. The security of this building and its citizens is the most important thing, and I won't allow us to be compromised by anyone or anything."

  "I'm sorry I killed it," Henry says, staring down at his food.

  "Don't be sorry, boy," Bob replies. "You did what you had to do at the time. I don't deny that it would've been useful to have had one of those things alive, so we could study it, but let's look on the bright side. Hopefully it was a one-off, just an aberration. We might never see anything like it again, but if we do, we'll try to keep it alive so we can find out what it is. For now, though, let's take comfort from the fact that it seemed pretty dumb. I mean, it couldn't even get out of the car, right?"

  Looking down at my food, I try to take stock of the day's events. When Bob came back with us to see the dead man in the car earlier, I could immediately tell that he had no idea what he was seeing. Ever since then, he's been trying to maintain the illusion that he's in control, but something seems to have subtly changed. The certain that was such an infuriating part of Bob's character seems to have slipped a little, although over the past couple of hours he seems to have become a little steadier. Still, nothing changes the fact that none of us has any idea what's happening. We're lost and blind in a world that seems to keep throwing surprise after surprise at us, and I can't shake the feeling that despite Bob's bravado, we're slowly sinking.