by E S Richards
Georgia was right. The stem cells were dying quicker than he’d ever seen it before. They needed heat to regenerate and the temperature in the lab was definitely well below zero now. All their research was going to fail.
Matt clenched his fists in front of him and inhaled sharply. No one was going to remember his name now. Their research would be forgotten about, a potential greatness that never came to pass. Alzheimer’s would go on killing people and he would just be another failed scientist who had come close but not close enough. Gritting his teeth Matt watched as the stem cells died in front of his eyes, years trapped on a base in Antarctica wasting away before his eyes.
“No,” Georgia whispered to the side of him, watching the exact same thing that he was. “No.”
Pushing the microscope away Georgia sank forward, her head in her hands as tears started to form in her eyes. It felt like she was losing her parents all over again, like she had had the opportunity to save them somehow and she had just watched it die. She knew it wasn’t the case really, the deaths of both her parents well in her past, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling. Years of research had been completely wiped out in just minutes. The grip of cold suddenly grew much fiercer with that realization, squeezing around her body and threatening to take the air from her lungs.
Only then did Georgia truly begin to take note of how cold their research facility had become. The stem cells needed a temperature above negative ten to survive, so that already told her it had dropped below that. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to retain some body heat, the many layers of clothing making it difficult to fully reach across her body.
Matt hadn’t said a word. Georgia knew how important the research was to him as well, although she was aware it wasn’t for the same cause. That was one of the main reasons they didn’t get on very well, Georgia wanting to rid the world of the disease for the good of the people, while Matt had more selfish intentions of how the cure would affect him.
That didn’t matter now, Georgia swiftly realized. Neither of them would be able to achieve what they wanted. Their dream of curing Alzheimer’s was officially over.
Climbing down from her chair Georgia swayed as her legs struggled to support her weight. She immediately felt like she was drained of energy, her body having to work impossibly hard to keep her systems functioning in the extreme cold.
“We need to get warm,” she stuttered, reaching out a hand to touch Matt’s shoulder. From the look in his eyes Georgia could tell Matt was just as disappointed as she was with the death of their research, but she was also fully aware that they had to now concentrate on saving themselves. “We won’t survive much longer either if the temperature keeps dropping.”
Matt’s eyes glanced above Georgia’s head and toward the temperature gauge on the wall. It was negative seventeen degrees Fahrenheit; both of them knew if their internal body temperature dropped below seventy it would be impossible to survive. Matt couldn’t predict what his internal temperature was in that moment, but he suspected it was on its way down.
“Come on,” Georgia wrapped an arm around him, leaning into his body for support as Matt stepped down from his stool. Dizziness shook Georgia’s body, her vision blurring as each step they took felt like she was climbing a mountain.
As they started shuffling toward the dorm room that adjoined the lab, Georgia cast her gaze around with confusion. Why had she moved to Antarctica? Everything was so cold and unyielding. It was always dark and she didn’t really have any friends there, what was the point?
Her head spun with every thought and Georgia quickly became more and more confused by her surroundings and what was happening. She leaned more heavily on Matt, his taller frame offering her the support she needed as they both collapsed onto a bed.
Looking up into Matt’s eyes Georgia was overcome by confusion again. They weren’t friends, but why were they sharing a bed? She tried to open her mouth to speak but the words escaped her before she’d even processed them, her mind losing functionality as her body temperature dropped even lower.
“We need to stay warm, Georgia.”
The words came out of Matt in a staccato rhythm, each one causing him more effort than the last. He wrapped his arms tighter around her body, despite Georgia’s struggling and trying to get away.
Matt knew their body heat would only help keep them alive for a short while longer, his mind was already readily processing the fact that he would be dead within the hour. Georgia appeared to already be in the confusion state of hypothermia; her body had stopped shivering beside his while Matt’s still shook from the cold. In a moment of sudden realization, he realized he would have to watch her die prior to him before his own body gave up. As the thought wrapped itself around his mind Matt squeezed Georgia’s body tighter and closed his eyes. He’d never thought he was afraid of death, but now he was finally facing it, all he wanted to do was give in to the darkness.
Chapter 18
Going through the inventory in Harrison’s bunker, Len couldn’t quite believe how much the old man had managed to stockpile over the years. He wasn’t certain how long Harrison had lived in the area for, but to have built the bunker from scratch alone must have taken him several years.
It was so well hidden from anyone above that Len could’ve stood right next to the entrance and not known it was there. Indented steps were carved into the wall in one corner of the bunker, leading to a hatch amongst the pipes in the ceiling. As Harrison led the way up, Len curious to see the bunker from above before they started preparing for their journey to South Haven, he marvelled at the years of painstaking work that must have gone into the design.
The hatch was simple, the outside of it covered in grass and soil which Harrison clearly attended to carefully to ensure it exactly matched the shade of greenery around it. It pushed open half in a flowerbed, the purple flowers sliding to one side somehow and yet maintaining their appearance. Len couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared down at it once closed, not even a tiny groove visible around the edges.
Harrison was clearly a skilled man, and a very dedicated one. Len wondered exactly what went on in his head to make him prepare to such an extent for an event that might not ever happen. In a way he guessed Harrison was partly pleased with the mass ejection that had shook Chicago; it was the perfect excuse for him to show off his handiwork.
“You slept through the night,” Harrison said matter-of-factly as Len squinted at the bright morning sun. “Running into that house really did a number on you.”
Len coughed in response, shocked that he had been unconscious for so long. He felt better for it though, the ache in his ribs less prominent and his head much clearer after the rest. What worried him though was wasting any more time; almost two full days had passed since the disaster first hit. He had no idea what Amy and James had been doing during that time.
“I’m going to get a few things from inside,” Harrison spoke again during Len’s silence. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Len nodded to the man and let him walk inside, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened the night before. His home sprung to his mind as he noticed the wisps of smoke curling up into the sky further down the street.
“I’m just going to…” he started to call to Harrison, but noticed the man had already disappeared into his own home. With a heavy heart Len started to walk in the direction of where his used to be, unable to stop himself from surveying the damage the fire had caused.
Even from a distance he could see there was barely anything left. His house—and the one next door—lay crumpled in a pile of rubble, a few tame fires still burning throughout. Len shook his head as he stared at what had been his home for over ten years. It was the house where James had taken his first steps, said his first words and celebrated many other milestones with his parents. Now there was nothing left.
Len had seen plenty of destruction as he’d made his way through Chicago, but this hit him even worse. This pile of bricks and morta
r had been his own; it had been his place of solitude in the city, a place of many countless memories, both good and bad.
He began to pick his way through the rubble, forcing himself to stay strong as he passed through what had once been his dining room. The oak table was charred almost beyond recognition, the varnished wood not standing a chance against the roaring flames. He found his bed only a few feet to the side of it, the ceiling having collapsed from the force of the fire.
With a lump in his throat Len thought of the wooden box he had risked his life to save. It was still on top of the backpack the teenage girl had given him, safely in Harrison’s underground bunker.
Climbing over more rubble, Len spotted a flash of white off to one side. His refrigerator lay on its side, the door warped by the heat and bent inwards. So many of James’s pictures had been stuck to the door, now nothing but ash in the wind floating around his face. He had the box though; Len had saved the most important things.
As Len poured through his belongings, almost all of them too damaged to recognize, the sense of loss inside him grew even deeper. He was truly a man with very little left, a man who would do anything to help himself feel whole again. He knew what he was staring at were only possessions, nothing people all over the world hadn’t proved you didn’t need to be happy. But still, the sense of having everything taken from him was too strong to ignore and as his life lay in pieces around him, Len sank to the ground and let tears begin to fall from his eyes.
How much destruction had James witnessed in South Haven? Len was sure by now that the effects of this disaster had hit the whole country, the terror in Chicago too immense to not have happened elsewhere. Aid would have come to the city if it had been the only one to fall, the lack of help made Len’s assumptions even clearer.
That meant South Haven would be just as bad. Even though it was lakeside like Chicago, the great waters of Lake Michigan had done very little to quench the thirst of the flames. It was much smaller too, which Len couldn’t decide was a positive or negative factor. There was less to burn, but did that mean it would merely burn quicker?
As he let the minutes slip by Len tried to pull himself back together. He had a real chance of reaching his family now. Harrison was the most important advantage he had and he had to make sure he made the most of it. The man knew things Len wouldn’t even think to try and he could teach him skills Len wouldn’t have even considered.
Shaking his head and letting the final tears fall from his eyes, Len sniffed and pushed himself to his feet. There was nothing left for him in the rubble and he needed to let it all go. No use crying over spilt milk, he’d often told James as a child. Well there was no use crying over old rocks either. Without looking back, Len walked away from his house for the very last time.
Harrison was back in his garden when Len reached number 102. Len was certain he looked like he had been crying, but out of the good of his heart Harrison didn’t mention anything.
“There’s clean-ish water in the bath upstairs,” Harrison spoke, acknowledging Len’s return. “I’ve got some clothes out for you as well, should be about your size.”
“Oh, thank you,” Len said, slightly caught by surprise. Looking down at his appearance he realized how disgusting he looked. Covered in ash, sweat and blood from his journey through the city, having a wash was an inviting prospect for him.
“But shouldn’t we get going soon?” Len asked anyway, the thought of his family always top of his mind.
“No point heading out today,” Harrison shook his head. “We’ll go at first light tomorrow. Could do with today to prepare as best we can.”
“Okay,” Len nodded, knowing Harrison’s words made sense but still wishing they could start moving earlier. “I’ll go clean up then.”
“Upstairs and on your right,” Harrison offered as Len started to move toward the back door of his home. “Should find everything you need.”
Stripping out of his clothes Len couldn’t deny he was glad to be rid of them. Only when he’d bundled them up in a pile in the corner did he realize how badly they smelled; how badly he smelled. The water in the bath was slightly murky—evidence of Harrison having just used it—and it wasn’t warm, but Len didn’t complain.
He lathered his body in soap and scrubbed every inch of himself clean. His hair and fingernails were particularly disgusting, matted with all sorts of grime Len didn’t want to know where from. When he finally felt clean and had patted himself dry with an old towel left hanging by the window, Len pulled on the clothes Harrison had left for him and stared at himself in the mirror.
Even clean, his face looked disheveled and thin. He hadn’t really eaten anything since he’d left work two days ago and that, combined with the miles he must’ve walked and the horrors he had seen made him look frail compared to his previous self.
His new clothes were sturdy and perfect for a long journey. Long pants and a long sleeved top covered his body, although the fabric was light and breathable, stopping him from sweating so much in the intense heat. A pair of sturdy hiking boots had been left out as well, a size too big but a welcome change from his work loafers all the same.
He looked like he was ready for the journey, there wasn’t a shred of the office worker left on him.
To his delight, when Len made it back downstairs, Harrison had started a small fire and was cooking something in a pan above it. He looked very at home in the outside, dressed identical to Len but with a much more confident look about him. He was born for this, Len realized and suddenly he found himself very lucky to have met with Harrison.
Strange how two people could live so close to one another for so many years, unaware of anything about the other person. Len realized how wrapped up in his own life he must have been to not even know Harrison’s name after all those years. Self absorbed. It was something Amy had called him when she’d served the divorce papers; slowly Len was beginning to accept that she might have been right.
The two men ate in relative silence, Harrison quickly scrubbing out the fire as soon as his cooking was done. Len couldn’t identify what he was eating, but after two days without a meal he didn’t question it. Immediately his insides felt full and nourished, his energy sources replenishing to a level he hadn’t felt since it all began.
“Right,” Harrison spoke after Len’s bowl was empty. “I reckon I’ve got a thing or two to teach you.”
Nodding, Len followed Harrison back down into his bunker and focused carefully as the older man started explaining everything they would have to be prepared for on their journey.
Len was already very aware of how dangerous certain groups of people could be, but his interactions with Freddie and Jen, the two families and now Harrison had calmed his fears somewhat. Harrison’s words got them all riled up again. The old man was certain more factions like those with shaved heads that had attacked Len would rise up in the ruin of the country. Textbook, was what he called it, drawing on countless examples that Len hadn’t even heard of but couldn’t deny.
The two of them poured over an old map that Harrison had pinned to the wall in his bunker, planning their route and figuring out how long it would take. Harrison demanded that they plan at least three alternative paths to South Haven, his reasoning clear that they wouldn’t be able to predict the terrors that obstructed their journey.
Len listened dutifully and offered his opinion when it was needed. He left most of the planning to Harrison, only really contributing when he shared exactly where in South Haven Amy and James now lived.
After they’d planned the route, Harrison set about going through his food supply, counting out how many days of rations they’d need compared to what they’d be able to carry. Len took this opportunity to unpack the backpack he had been given, sharing his supplies with Harrison who discerned whether any of them would be useful to take.
He was amazed to see what the families had been able to acquire from the street of shops nearby. Several bottles of water were what weighed the bag down most, al
ong with a few tins of food that Harrison added to his shelves. There was a penknife, although it looked small compared to the wall of weapons Harrison proudly displayed; a lighter, useful even with all the fires burning so freely everywhere you went. Two pairs of socks and a large t-shirt padded out the bottom of the bag with finally a toothbrush and a role of tape thrown in for good luck.
Harrison had ample supplies of every item, but Len was still impressed by what they found. Had he not had the luck of ending up with the old man, the backpack would’ve been a valuable lifeline for him.
Most of the items were discarded and replaced with better versions that Harrison had stockpiled himself. Even the backpack was replaced by a larger one, built to hold at least a few days of supplies. In addition to the standard contents Harrison included spools of rope, a flashlight and extra batteries, bandages and other forms of first aid, plastic bags, various tools including a can opener and a wrench, a sleeping bag, cooking equipment and countless other items Len wouldn’t have even thought to consider.