Everything Dies | Season 3

by Malpass, T. W.

  However, she’d come to say goodnight to her patient and sometime friend. His quarters were attached to the back end of the lab, so he would never be too far away from receiving treatment.

  To her surprise, he’d already emerged from the place he spent most of this time and stood in the shadows next to one of the medicine cabinets.

  ‘Stretching your legs?’ Foster asked.

  ‘Don’t get too excited. I just came to get something for my headache,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Still bad?’

  ‘Bearable. Are you wet?’

  ‘I took a shower,’ Foster said.

  ‘You should be careful. You’ll catch your death around here. So, I take it that means you didn’t go?’ As Ethan raised the volume of his voice, the slight duality of it began to resonate with every word. It wasn’t as pronounced as those in the latter stages of infection, but it was still present enough to be disconcerting.

  ‘What contribution could I make to coordinating a search for resources? It’s not my field of expertise. It’s not like I’m welcome over there anyway,’ Foster said.

  ‘More welcome than I am.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Their visits are getting more infrequent. I’m sure you’ve noticed,’ Ethan said.

  ‘That reminds me.’ Foster walked across to one of the cupboards, opened it up, and retrieved four books from inside, three hardbacks and a paperback. ‘Jake dropped them off earlier when you were sleeping. He found them yesterday.’ She approached and handed them over.

  Ethan’s heart lifted when he felt the weight of the books in his hands and smelled the musk of the old paper.

  ‘The Man in the Iron Mask,’ he whispered.

  ‘You still have friends, Ethan,’ Foster said. ‘They just don’t know how to handle the situation. They don’t know what to do to help, but they make gestures when they can.’

  Ethan’s shoulders rounded.

  ‘I wonder how they’d feel if they really knew what was going on,’ he said.

  ‘What purpose would that serve?’

  ‘It would be better for you if they didn’t find out for themselves. Miller sees through bullshit almost as well as I do. She’ll figure things out eventually, no matter how much you try to dress it up with science.’

  ‘If I tell them the truth, then it’s over.’

  ‘Maybe that would be better for everyone,’ Ethan replied.

  ‘What’s gotten into you? You’re normally so positive,’ Foster said.

  ‘You didn’t know me before. I wasn’t exactly a beacon of hope then. It’s hard to be when you see so much.’

  Foster edged closer to him. ‘How are you feeling physically today, besides the headache?’

  ‘OK, I guess. A little weak, dry throat. I’ve still got that horrible taste in my mouth.’

  Foster guided him over to the nearest chair and sat him down in the direct beam of one of the lights. She knelt and pressed her thumb into his wrist to check his pulse.

  Ethan watched a single drop of water run from her hairline, down her sternum, and disappear between her breasts that were mostly covered by her robe.

  ‘Hmm. Slightly higher than I would like, but nothing to worry about,’ she said.

  She grabbed a medical flashlight from the closest bench and shined it in his eyes. They looked reasonably clear, but the intertwining veins within them were darker and more prevalent. His hair had gotten longer. Unlike the other men, he’d kept himself relatively clean-shaven. Being resigned to quarantine, he had no call for the extra protection against the cold. It was just as well because his body was as frail as ever. Like his eyes, the veins beneath the skin of his arms and neck were darker and more agitated.

  Foster averted the light from his face and to the dressing on his right forearm.

  ‘Let’s take a look at that,’ she said.

  ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘I need to check it over, Ethan.’

  ‘It’s the same. It’s always the same,’ he said.

  The doctor ignored his objections and started to peel back the adhesive from his skin to reveal the wound.

  The almond-shaped bite he’d sustained from Grant’s specimen was still there, and although its surface was dry, the serrated flesh had hardly closed at all. The natural healing process you would expect from a human body had not occurred, even after the best part of half a year.

  ‘Any further discomfort?’ Foster asked.

  ‘No more than normal.’

  ‘That’s good. Seeing as I’ve been messing around with it, I’ll put a fresh dressing on for you in the morning. Probably best to leave it open while you sleep. Allow your skin to breathe for a while.’

  Foster noticed he was staring at her, a grim reality reflecting in the gloss of his eyes.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘Y’know, up on that helipad, when you realised you had the serum, Miller gave me a choice. Do you remember? The syringe or amputation.’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ Foster said.

  ‘I thought she was crazy to even offer me an alternative. How wrong can one person be,’ Ethan said.

  ‘You made the same choice most people would have made in the same circumstances. You chose hope. If you’d chosen the other option, you most likely would have bled out before we reached the border.’

  Ethan smiled.

  ‘Maybe not. Maybe you would have saved me. I trust you, Doctor, probably more than I’ve trusted anyone.’

  ‘That’s just as well, because I’m the only doctor you’ve got,’ she said.

  Ethan gently placed his hand on top of hers and closed his eyes.

  She knew what he was doing and reluctantly held her position.

  ‘You’re afraid for me,’ he said.

  ‘Of course I am. I want you to get better.’

  ‘It’s not just that. You’re scared something else might happen to me if you can’t convince the others that you’re making progress.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s only Oswald who worries me. He’s changed. He’s become cold, unfeeling. I can’t understand why he resents you so.’

  Ethan opened his eyes again.

  ‘You really don’t know?’ He traced his hand over the soft cotton of her nightgown and up to her cheek.

  At first, she hesitated to look at him, but then she gave in and rose on her knees to meet his lips with hers. In the dull light of the laboratory, their kiss locked them together, and they held on to each other. Their embrace wasn’t raw or passionate. It was tender, careful, like they were both aware they were handling something unmistakably fragile.

  Episode Two

  Flight 637

  1

  The terrified scream carried all the way to the lab separating the two living quarters, waking Foster from her snooze. She jumped out of bed and put on her robe again, navigating the darkened lab to Ethan’s two-roomed living space.

  When she reached him, he was half raised on his elbows. His shirt clung to his body like paint, drenched in a cold sweat. His chest quivered as he hyperventilated. His eyes, wild with panic, searched the room for something familiar to bring him back to reality.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Foster said, sitting on the mattress next to him and grasping his hand. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Wait, wait. I need to go.’ Ethan tried to get up, but the doctor eased him back down again by pressing on his chest.

  ‘You’re here. You’re back. It was just a nightmare,’ she said.

  ‘No, I’m not here. I’m there. I need to… I need to—’

  ‘All you need to do is breathe. Breathe, Ethan. Look at me.’

  It was clear Ethan didn’t know where he was or if he was even awake.

  He gazed at Foster with a look of bemusement, struggling to recognise her. However, after a few more seconds of scrutinising her features and some deep breaths, he gradually began to come back to the calm of the bedroom. />
  ‘That’s it. Keep breathing. I’m right here with you,’ Foster whispered, running her hand through his sodden hair.

  Finally the confusion subsided, and he was able to properly focus on her.

  ‘Foster?’

  ‘Welcome back,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ, that was a bad one,’ he said. Ethan fell back onto his pillow and drew his hands down his face, exhausted by his ordeal.

  ‘Same dream?’

  ‘Exactly the same, only more vivid.’

  ‘That’s the third time in a week. Maybe we need to tweak your meds,’ Foster said.

  ‘Is there anything left to tweak?’

  ‘I can alter your dosage a little. See if it helps.’

  ‘Whatever you think is best.’

  Ethan’s breathing slowly returned to normal, and the exhaustion from his fright really set in.

  Foster noticed he was starting to drift off.

  ‘Want me to lie with you until you fall asleep?’ she said.

  ‘That’s the only good thing about being sick,’ he said, barely able to get the words out.

  She lifted her legs onto the bed and shuffled against his damp body as he released one last breath of relief.

  Outside the station, the night winds blew harder, rattling the antenna attached to the communications building and the corrugated flaps of the shutters protecting the entrance to the tractor garage.

  About half a mile out from the station markers to the south, twelve figures stood on the rise observing the outline created by the secondary lights of the compound.

  Each individual was wrapped up tight in thermal boots, leggings, and jackets, their faces obscured by shadow beneath their hoods. They were positioned in a line, almost an equal distance away from each other, their stance unwavered by the harsh gusts that hit them on the higher ground.

  One figure at the centre of the line reached into his jacket and removed a silver dagger. Symbols were etched into its hilt and along its narrow blade. The figure dropped to one knee, raised the dagger above his head, and then plunged it into the snow. It sank into the powder, and the other figures simultaneously took a knee and bowed their heads.

  2

  First thing the next morning, the two pairs of salvagers prepared for their search, packing gear, weapons, and a little food onto the vehicles before heading out.

  Jason and O.B. set off to the west, and Raine and Salty went south.

  Taking off shortly after with Anna by her side in the cockpit, Crawford was under instruction to scout ahead for potential search areas while also looking for anyone who might be moving towards the compound.

  The skilled pilot performed her reconnaissance by flying in circles of a progressively widening radius.

  Anna let out a single whimpering bark whenever she saw the small dot of the sled cutting through the snow.

  Two miles into the journey, Salty cut the engine and brought the snowmobile to a stop so he and his passenger could drink some water.

  He took a swig from the bottle and passed it back to Raine. The chopper had flown over them some time ago and was now probably checking on the other search party.

  ‘Not sure your boyfriend appreciates his choice of partner today. Can’t say I blame him either,’ Salty said.

  ‘Please don’t call him that,’ Raine replied.

  ‘Fair enough, but my comment still stands. I ain’t sure what you had in mind for that kid when you took him under your wing.’

  ‘He was on the brink after Darla. Believe me, I know what that looks like,’ Raine said. ‘I wanted to give him some structure to his life, discipline. Something that could pull him back from the cliff edge.’

  ‘Makes sense. Not sayin’ you didn’t have good intentions, but it seems to me he’s been pulled from one edge and pushed towards another.’ Salty twisted on the sled to face her. ‘You need to keep a close eye on him.’

  ‘I can keep him in check,’ Raine said.

  ‘Hope you’re right. We’ve got enough to worry about with the Twilight situation.’

  ‘How did he seem when you went to see him?’ Raine asked.

  ‘He was sleepin’. I just dropped off some books I found with Foster.’

  ‘Jesus, I thought you’d spoken to him, but you didn’t even see him?’

  ‘Told you. I didn’t wanna wake him,’ Salty replied.

  ‘It means no one other than Foster has laid eyes on him for weeks. She claims she’s making headway at fighting the infection,’ Raine said.

  ‘And you think she’s lyin’?’

  ‘Not sure if she’s just playing for time, delaying the inevitable.’

  ‘What does the inevitable look like to you, Miller?’

  Raine shook her head and handed his bottle back.

  ‘Why is it always up to me? All I know is he may only have months or even weeks. We can’t move him in his condition, and if we don’t find food soon, half of us will have to take a long trip in the chopper and gamble on finding enough fuel for the return.’

  ‘It’s a big risk separating like that,’ Salty said.

  ‘Massive, but what choice will we have?’

  ‘Strikes me, we’re doin’ all this deliberatin’ and talkin’ around him and no one has ever thought to ask Twilight what he wants,’ Salty said.

  He looked back at her when she didn’t respond, but Raine’s attention was elsewhere.

  She gazed off into the distance to the southwest.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t know. Something strange,’ Raine said.

  Salty removed the binoculars from their leather pouch around his waist and pointed them in the direction of her interest.

  Even with the enhanced view of the high-powered binoculars, it was impossible to tell what it was through the murky atmosphere.

  It seemed to be a black angular object, possibly fin-shaped, protruding from a snow bank about eight hundred metres away.

  ‘Hard to say. A vehicle of some kind maybe, but strange is right,’ Salty said.

  ‘Let’s go take a closer look,’ Raine said.

  Salty put the bottle away, turned the ignition, and gave the sled some throttle so they could speed towards their curious discovery.

  It wasn’t long before they got a better view of what they’d found. A large crater had been gouged into the tough earth of the tundra with a radius of about three hundred metres. It was more appropriate to call it a blast radius.

  The blackened wastes of twisted wreckage suggested the crash had climaxed in a series of explosions, and the component parts of the engines, scattered to the winds, confirmed it.

  The hulk of the fuselage sat at the centre of it all, unceremoniously cleaved in two by the impact. Its front section rested on a cluster of rocks and had been tipped nose down. The back half lay flat, scorched black by fire, its roof peeled open like a sardine can, exposing the entire passenger section.

  From their position, the plane’s right wing seemed fairly intact, but its left had been torn away from the main body, now nothing more than a tangle of metal.

  Salty and Raine stood for a moment in awe of the degree of devastation the crash had brought to an otherwise untouched corner of the world.

  ‘Heard about a few goin’ down on the news before we lost complete control,’ Salty said. ‘And they say it’s the safest way to travel.’

  ‘A tragedy like this, in the midst of a much bigger one, maybe no one even noticed,’ Raine said.

  ‘I bet their families noticed plenty.’

  ‘If they were still alive at the time. Maybe we’re the first witnesses to this.’

  ‘Tough fuckin’ luck. Let’s get closer, see if there’s anything we can salvage.’

  They both trod cautiously, picking up their feet in order to step over some razor-sharp debris. It was hard to even distinguish what they were looking at most of the time, let alone find anything salvageable.

  Raine
pointed in the direction of the fuselage, as it was the only part of the plane even remotely intact.

  They made for the back half first, climbing onto the wreckage around the outside to get up to it. The three sections of economy class were burnt beyond recognition, the passengers still strapped in, reduced to ash-encrusted skeletons.

  Judging by the melted interior surrounding them, it was the intensity of the jet fuel and not the passage of time that had robbed them of their flesh.

  ‘Let’s fly coach, kids! What could possibly go wrong?’ Salty said.

  Raine didn’t linger. She’d already witnessed the effects intense heat could have on the human body, and she had no appetite to see it again. She made her way around the wreckage to the nose section of the aircraft and climbed through the opening where it had been carved in two.

  Because that part of the fuselage was poised at a forty-five-degree angle, she had to use the fixed seating to prevent her from falling all the way down the aisle to the cockpit door.

  Salty followed her inside and used the same method to work his way to the nose, where most of the belongings had fallen.

  The passengers in first class had been spared from the flames, but their fate was no less unkind, many of their skeletal remains held in the seats by their safety harnesses. Unlike economy, their hair and clothes hadn’t been burnt away. One body had clearly dropped from a great distance and lay at the nose section, pieces of its shattered skull surrounding it.

  Salty spotted something poking out from the holding compartment at the back of one of the seats. Holding on to the frame of another seat with one hand, he reached across to delve into the leather sleeve and pulled out a paperback novel. It was The Talisman by Peter Straub and Stephen King. It pleased him because he knew Ethan liked King, and he was sure Twilight didn’t have the book back at the compound.

  Raine saw him smile and carefully slip the novel into his pack. It drew her attention enough to miss the startling peculiarity of the passenger she was just about to climb past.

  When she did happen to turn her head, the sight took her by surprise and she slid forwards, almost losing her grip to fall head first against the screen separating the passenger section from the cockpit.