by North, Geoff
“I don’t wanna go back there,” Amanda squeaked. “I don’t wanna hide… no more running.”
“You know we have to,” her brother said. He pushed towards the back room door. “It’s our secret safe place.”
Amanda’s shoulder rubbed against the toys displayed on the narrowing aisle. A stuffed doll fell face first to the floor and came to life. It rolled over onto its back and sat up. Amanda reached down for it. “It’s a baby, Michael! It’s a little baby!”
The baby’s eyes opened. The pupils were glowing red. Sharp little teeth bit into Amanda’s fingers. More baby dolls were coming to life on the shelves surrounding her. They jumped onto her back, digging their little nails into her shoulders. Another one landed on top of her head and started pulling at her hair. Their weight forced Amanda to her knees. They continued jumping and hopping from the high shelves, and scrambling down the aisles. They pushed her onto her stomach and squished her face into the floor.
Through a flurry of little plastic limbs Amanda could see out into the main corridor of the shopping center. Hundreds more were flooding towards the toy store. Thousands of bald-headed little monstrosities marched in a wave. The biggest, bald-headed one towered above the rest at six and a half feet. Roy. The security guard was firing his hand guns into the air. He saw them, and trained the terrible weapons on her brother.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Michael collapsed down next to her. There was a big, black bullet hole between his dead eyes. “You and your dumb babies,” he said accusingly. “Look at what caring for them did.”
A tiny plastic shoe kicked Amanda in the nose. Her vision blurred as the dolls continued piling on top. Michael’s eyes had turned red and began to dance up and down, shimmering from side to side. Everything went black a moment later.
“Wake up! Quit screaming!”
The red eyes turned brown. Amanda was no longer staring at a baby’s face, but at her brother. There was no yellow fluid leaking down his cheeks and his skin wasn’t grey.
“I… I had another dream,” she said shakily.
“No kidding. About the dead babies again.” Michael helped her sit up in the bed. “That place is far away and long gone. You have to stop thinking about it.”
Amanda looked about the small room to assure herself she was in a cabin far up in the north, and not in a dark toy store aisle. Michael’s bed was in another corner, unmade and strewn with mess all about. The sky outside the single window was dark grey and roiling black in spots. She checked the clock on the wall to verify it was late morning and not the middle of night. 10 AM. “I don’t think about it when I’m awake, at least I try not to. I can’t control what goes on inside my stupid head when I fall asleep.”
“Come on, get up and get dressed. Hayden asked me to bring wood in. You can give me a hand.” He clomped out with his oversized boots into the cabin’s front room.
Amanda slipped out of bed and dressed into warm clothes. The boots were too big for her brother, and the clothes were too big for her. Everything here once belonged to the husband and wife that owned the big cabin. She said a silent thank you to the retired—now dead—teaching couple, and went out to join Michael.
Caitlan and Angela were sitting at the kitchen table, their heads buried into two open laptops. “Any luck?” The ten year old girl asked.
Caitlan looked up and smiled. “Nothing this morning, girl, but don’t give up hope. We saw it once, we might see it again.”
Amanda put on big winter boots. “That’s what you said yesterday morning, and the morning before that.”
“And I’ll probably say the same thing tomorrow morning, and the morning after that, but like I said… don’t give up hope.”
Four weeks earlier, Caitlan had somehow accessed half a minute of live internet while playing solitaire on one of the computers. By the time any of them realized it was in fact the real deal, the connection had been lost. All that remained was a single stalled front page of news feed and a pop-up advertising cheap air rates to Cuba. Ever since then, the adults had taken turns keeping an eye on the laptops and fully charged smart phones. The connection had never been re-established, but none of them gave up hope. Caitlan wouldn’t let them.
Angela stretched her arms over her head and pushed away from the table. She watched Amanda bundle up in a big coat and scarf. “Straight out of bed and heading outside. What’s the big hurry, aren’t you going to have something to eat first?”
“I’m gonna help Michael get wood. Maybe the work will make me hungry.”
Angela saw something in the girl’s eyes, could tell she was uncomfortable from the way her body moved. “We could hear you in the bedroom. Another nightmare?”
“Yeah.” Amanda said, pulling a pair of leather mitts that once belonged to Paul Baxter over her hands. They swam up past her elbows. “They’re getting worse. The babies are mean… trying to hurt me.”
“Repressed guilt,” Caitlan offered without looking up from her laptop. “A part of you subconsciously wishes you could’ve done more to help all them people that got murdered in that shopping center.”
“Caitlan,” Angela warned.
The big woman shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it? Why sugar-coat things? The kid feels like shit. The sooner she realizes there wasn’t a goddamn thing she could’ve done to prevent it, the better off she’ll be. Ain’t that right, sweetie?”
Amanda pulled the coat’s hood over her head and nodded. “I never thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right.”
She started for the front door and Angela called to her one last time. “Make sure that scarf’s pulled up over your mouth and nose. The air’s nasty this morning.”
Amanda saluted and stepped outside. Even prepared as she was for the cold, the girl shuddered as she made her way down the steps through the dirty trail of snow. It was one of them fifty-belowers Dr. Gill was often heard saying on especially frigid mornings. The kind of morning kids ought to keep their tongues in their mouths and not stuck to metal poles. Amanda wasn’t sure what that even meant. She had never touched her tongue to a metal pole in her life, and had no desire to ever try it.
She saw her brother at the wood pile stacking pieces of split spruce into the wheelbarrow. He was bundled in heavy outer clothes as well, but Amanda could see the boy had lost weight. The adults didn’t talk openly in front of the kids about the cumulative effects of radiation sickness, but the twins knew what it was. For months they had been rationing food, attempting to make it through the winter on what was stored in the cabin, and what they had brought with them from the south. Dr. Gill caught five or six fish a week from the lake, and Hayden had shot three deer. They weren’t starving. They were surviving responsibly. Angela told them they now lived in a world where waste was no longer acceptable. No more junk food. No more takeout. No more taking more than you could eat and leaving your plate half full. Those days were long over.
They were eating their fill, but Michael was still sick. Amanda looked up at the dark clouds and watched the ashes fall. They had been breathing the diseased air in for close to a year. Eventually they would all get sick, and perhaps worse.
Michael threw a final piece into the filled wheelbarrow, aware his sister was watching. “I asked you to help, not just stare.”
“You should let Fred take a look at you again.”
“What for? He doesn’t have any medicine for the puking and diarrhea. All he’s got his dumb opinion, and that ain’t gonna make me feel any better.”
“It makes me feel better when he looks us over.”
Michael pushed his load towards her. “Here. Take this wood back to the cabin.”
“Promise you’ll have him check you out today.”
“Yeah, whatever. I promise.”
Amanda grabbed onto the wheelbarrow handles and weaved her way back to the cabin. Michael could see Angela standing in the window, staring at him. She had been staring at him a lot lately. She never came right out and said it, but he figured she was as w
orried about his health as Amanda was. Let her stare. As long as she doesn’t try and coddle me. She isn’t my mom. My mom’s dead.
Michael waved at the woman, but she didn’t wave back. Weird. At least she hasn’t been talking to herself lately. He turned away and started for the lake’s frozen surface. The ice shack was a hundred yards out. He followed the hard snowmobile tracks towards it, shivering and stomping his feet to keep warm. The tracks broke off in spots, heading towards the northern shore and thick forests beyond. That’s where Hayden went with the chainsaw to cut wood. It was the one thing they would never have to ration, no matter how long they stayed. The trees were plentiful, never-ending. Fuel however was becoming an issue. Hayden hadn’t been filling the snowmobile and chainsaw—more things left behind from the Baxters—half as much in the last two months. The generator powering the cabin had been, and still remained, their number one priority. They were running dangerously low on gasoline, and the underground tank at the gas station back in the town of Odin Lake was almost empty as well.
Michael knew their time here was almost up. Soon they would have to fill the tank of their old car up, pack their meagre belongings, and attempt a return trip back south to what—if anything—had survived the long, unending winter. Michael was looking forward to that day, and dreading it.
Dr. Gill had built the ice shack all on his own with scraps of wood stored behind the cabin. It wasn’t much to look at, smaller than any other ice shack Michael had ever seen during his short life, but it kept the cold out. He pulled the door open, ducked in, and shut it behind him in one quick move.
Fred Gill was sitting on a plastic pail, holding a small stick in his hands with fishing line attached to the end. The line disappeared into a black hole in the ice six inches wide. Hayden was sitting less than two feet away, watching the doctor. Young Nicholas, bundled in blankets and scarves, was nestled between the two men, his face pushed down towards his chest to keep warm. Or perhaps, Michael thought, he’d fallen asleep from boredom.
“What are you doing out here?” Hayden asked.
Michael hated that look. The same look they’d all been giving him lately. The one that said he was sick, and not getting better. “I was getting wood, Amanda took a load back to the cabin for me. Figured I’d see how you guys were making out.”
“The more the merrier,” Fred said, tugging gently on his line. “It gets awful lonely in here, fishing all by yourself. I appreciate the company.”
“What are the women up to?” Hayden asked. “Still trying to surf the web?”
“That’s pretty much all they ever do these days.” Michael answered.
“Pull up a stump and sit a spell,” Fred said. “The fish aren’t biting, but like I said, company is always welcome.”
Michael liked the old doctor, but sometimes his corny way of talking was too much. Pull up a stump and sit a spell. Who says stuff like that anymore? “When are we going?” He asked.
“Not much longer now.” Hayden said. “We’ve been sitting in here for almost two hours.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Michael answered. “When are we leaving, as in when are we packing up and leaving Odin Lake?”
“You in a big hurry to get somewhere, son?” Fred asked.
Quit talking to me like I’m a little baby. They weren’t kids anymore. Not since the bombs dropped. Not since the shopping mall was taken over by a homicidal lunatic. “We’re almost out of fuel, and we’re all getting sick of eating dirty old fish and deer meat. I want to see what’s happened back home.”
“There is no home anymore,” Hayden said. “My farm blew away in the wind, and yours was hit multiple times for God only knows what reason. Besides, it’s still winter, we shouldn’t go anywhere until it begins to warm up.”
“It isn’t going to warm up anytime soon, and you both know it.”
The two men remained silent, their eyes glued to the hole in the ice. They had no answer for that because they knew Michael was right. It was time to move on. They had been talking about it when they thought the children were asleep, but Michael and his sister had heard almost every late night discussion. When would the winter end, or was this just the beginning of a never-ending cold season? They had to move on, winter or not, and they would have to move soon.
“To hell with this,” Fred mumbled. He pulled his line up from the depths. “The kid’s right, Hayden, we have to head back south, find out what’s really happened… see if anyone’s survived. We can’t hide away up here forever.”
Hayden remained quiet a few moments longer. He finally stood in the cramped space and gathered his sleeping son up into his arms. The four left the small shack and headed back across the ice towards the cabin.
Michael saw Angela still standing in the window staring out morosely towards them. Amanda had taken her place at the kitchen table with Caitlan, keeping vigil over the two open laptops in case the internet decided to mysteriously reactivate again.
“Family meeting, folks,” Fred called out, throwing his big mittens and fur hat to the floor. The old doctor was messy, but no one ever scolded him about it. “Who wants to leave this godforsaken place?”
Caitlan raised a single eyebrow. “Leave for where? I’m not going until I get more news from this damn thing.”
Fred stomped over to the table and picked up the single page Caitlan had printed out weeks earlier. “You mean more news like this?” He read the headline and brief blurb out loud. “North Korea strikes first, Russia Retaliates… US stalls for time, but is eventually drawn into conflict.” He slapped the paper back down. “Big deal. Anyone could’ve figured that much out. Find me something on one of those stupid machines that explains the need to nuke a city like Winnipeg back to the Stone Age. Better yet, refresh those damn pages and find out what the hell kind of radiation sickness turns corpses into bloated cannibals.”
Caitlan replied very slowly and very quietly. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”
The doctor sighed and sank down into one of the chairs next to her. “Sorry for yelling. I’m just a grumpy old fart that hates the cold.”
Michael would’ve grinned if he wasn’t so shocked at the doctor’s outburst. At least the corny talk was over with.
“The roads are relatively clear,” Hayden said, attempting to cool the mood. “Keeping them open with the plow from town hasn’t been easy. Owen at the gas station says we’ve been wasting too much of what’s left of his fuel. He doesn’t think we’ll ever end up leaving because there’s nothing to go to. But we’re leaving anyway. I promised that before we arrived here, and I mean to keep that promise. Pack up your things, and get ready to go. We’re heading out first thing tomorrow morning.”
Packing their belongings took less than thirty minutes because they hadn’t started out with much. Food and water was the biggest priority. They filled the old Buick’s trunk with what remained and stuffed it all down with extra blankets and clothes.
The rest of their last day on Odin Lake was spent inside the cabin. After a time, close to what may have been sunset—it was difficult to tell—Angela went outside. She walked the perimeter of the small island, taking in the somber view of frozen lake and cold forests. She turned back and studied the cabin. It had been their home for close to a year. It had kept them safe from the horrors of the outside world, a world transformed.
You gonna miss the place, girl?
Angela gasped. Her stepfather hadn’t spoken inside her head for weeks. She had almost come to believe that he was truly gone, finally dead once and for all. Wishful thinking.
Don’t be like that, Angie-dear. You’ve missed the old man, admit it.
“Go to hell.”
Hey, be nice. I’m all you’ve got left. Family means everything.
“All I have left? I have Hayden, Caitlan and Fred, the children. I sure as hell don’t need you in my life anymore.”
And how long will that last once you get on the open road again? The boy’s already showing signs of sickness… That na
sty old radiation settling in. Pretty soon the little guy’s hair will start to fall out, and you’ll have more to clean up than just puke and shit. A whole lot more.
“Then it’ll give me more to do.”
You don’t need that kind of responsibility, girl. You can’t handle it.
Angela turned away from the cabin. The last thing she needed now was to have any of the others seeing her talking to herself again after so long. She faced the ice shack and answered the voice in her head. “I’m not the helpless little girl you left behind. I’m a grown woman, and I can take care of a lot more than just myself.”
Why should you look after anyone but yourself? Why allow those others to drag you down in a world gone to hell?
“Leave me alone. Get out of my head and stay out.”
Ain’t gonna happen. You’re stuck with me, always have been, always will be. How about we start whittling down on all that excess baggage. The boy, the twin… He should be the first to go.
“Go away.”
Kill the boy, darling... Kill them all.
Angela didn’t say another word, and the voice in her head went silent.
Chapter 3
Louie Finkbiner had committed the most heinous crime against all life in the history of mankind, but he still considered himself the victim. He had unleashed LDV-3—teeny-weeny ticks with ravenous blood appetites—on his co-workers at the Winnipeg Disease Study Center. Billions of the microscopic arachnids quickly overwhelmed the thirty-eight remaining employees trapped on the bottom level of the facility, and their numbers swelled. They rose up from the depths, seeking more hosts to inhabit, growing, multiplying—washing over the ruined city like a cancerous, black fog.
Louie had kept ahead of the swarm, barely. He stayed alive while hundreds died. LDV-3 was an insidious bug to shake, however. Even after death, the victims continued to shamble forward as carriers, their corpses reanimated by the ticks travelling throughout their bloodstreams and central nervous systems. The things grew inside, sucking up hemoglobin, causing the host bodies to bloat grotesquely. These mindless creatures spread out from the pulverized city, seeking other forms of life to confiscate and grow on. Cats, dogs, birds. Anything warm-blooded with a beating heart.