She had more in common with Jamie than anyone else he’d met. Odd, weird, a little outside the box. In Fatty’s mind, Jamie occupied his own little section. It was a surprise to his labelling system that they’d become friends. They were simply too different. Yet, they worked well together. Theresa liked to say they complemented each other (although Fatty couldn’t ever recall a time when he openly complimented Jamie or vice versa for that matter).
Where Fatty was nervous and unsure, Jamie was confident and knowledgeable. Where Fatty was (rightfully) afraid and concerned, Jamie was too foolhardy. Fatty’s reticence had often prevented them from doing something they would later regret. At least, that was how Fatty liked to look at it. He wasn’t sure how Jamie felt. In fact, he almost certainly didn’t feel the same way. Fatty could be a bore at times. If being safe was boring, then Fatty was the most boring boy ever to have lived. And he was proud of it.
They swung around a corner and located the cafeteria.
“Wow,” Fatty said, standing stock still and taking in the most beautiful room he’d ever laid eyes on.
A host of tables in squares of varying sizes were arranged throughout the space. The nooks had been carved into special areas where people could meet for important meetings. It had a warm feel to it. Nothing like the dining area in the commune.
Vats of food, constantly warmed by heated pads on their metal bottoms. A section for desserts. Another for drinks. Another for. . . Fatty had to stop and take a breath, to collect himself. He was going to hyperventilate. Yesterday, he’d felt resigned to his fate, certain he was going to die. Now he was in a place he’d only ever seen in his dreams.
Heaven.
Fatty could hardly keep himself from heading around back and checking out the kitchen. Everything was so clean and futuristic. Imagine what he could do with all this amazing equipment. The new kinds of food and recipes he might rediscover. He could hardly contain his excitement.
He lifted the lids on the vats, emitting a cloud of steam like a magic trick. Most of it was not new. The mashed potatoes were thick, mixed with milk and butter. Extra creamy. Fatty ladled an entire stack onto his plate. Then another plate of sausages and bacon. Another for vegetables.
“We can’t carry all of this,” Lucy said.
Damn. Lucy was right. Then what were they supposed to do? He didn’t want to ladle it back into the containers. Then he saw the solution.
At the edge of the room were a host of dessert trollies. He wheeled one over to his pre-piled plates and began placing them on the trolley.
“I got a trolley for you too,” he said, pushing it in Lucy’s direction.
He didn’t even notice the smile on her face. He was too busy piling the plates with goodies. They could pick and choose what they wanted when they wanted it. Fatty’s stomach growled. He was probably going to make himself sick. He smiled and shook his head at himself.
Getting sick from eating too much food! Imagine that! Usually, it was the other way around.
“You’re sure we need to take all of this with us?” Lucy said.
“Am I sure?” Fatty said, scooping a dollop of the mashed potato onto his finger. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “I’m certain beyond any doubt.”
4.
“DO YOU think Donald is going to be okay?” Fatty said, speaking around a mouthful of mashed potato, that same expression of ecstasy on his face.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I know they have advanced medicine here but his wounds were pretty bad.”
They sat on a bed, filling their faces. They were working on the dessert section when the door opened, admitting Jamie. He had dark grey bags under his eyes and his hair looked like a bird had made a home in it. He flopped down onto one of the beds and lay still.
“So. . . What’s up?” Fatty said, rubbing his bulging stomach. “Did the operation go well?”
Jamie was silent a moment before he answered. Lucy was already expecting the worst.
“The doctor said it went as well as could be expected,” Jamie said.
“That’s great news,” Fatty said with a smile. It faded. “Isn’t it?”
“Only if he pulls through,” Jamie said. “We won’t know until he recovers. Or doesn’t.”
“Where’s Donny now?” Lucy said.
“With Dad,” Jamie said. “He wants to be there when he wakes up.”
“We brought a load of food from the cafeteria,” Lucy said. “You can eat whatever you like. Fatty made sure to bring some of everything.”
“You’ve gotta try the mashed potatoes,” Fatty said, extending the plate. “I can’t get enough of them.”
“Maybe later,” Jamie said, rolling over onto his side. “I’m not hungry.”
He clearly wanted to be left alone.
Lucy picked up a plate and spooned a little of everything onto it. She did the same with the desserts on another plate. Jamie was already snoring by the time she shut the door behind her.
She moved down the corridors—seemingly infinite—and turned this way and that, using the painted signs and their corresponding arrows to guide her. Somehow she knew which way to go before she reached a junction, relying on her own intuition.
She turned a corner. And came to a stop.
Two men in long white coats were talking in hushed whispers. Lucy just stood and stared. They were like ghosts.
One of the men turned. He looked directly at Lucy. And smiled.
“I see you’re awake, L,” Dr. Beck said. “Come. We have much to do.”
Lucy blinked, and the two men were gone. Another memory. Lucy shook her head and wished they would actually make sense for once, give her more of a clue of what they were about than a mere glimpse of the past. She pressed on.
She got to the operating theatres. The machines were already finishing up cleaning the room. They were doing a good job, scrubbing away the blood and other things Lucy didn’t like to think about, removing any potential contamination for the next patient, whoever and whenever that might be.
Lucy moved down the corridors and had to double back on herself several times before she heard a voice.
“Lucy,” Donny said.
He was standing in the doorway to a private room. He looked dishevelled and tired like his younger brother had. He needed to sleep but he wouldn’t allow his body even that much.
“I could hear you walking up and down the corridors,” he said. “This place is huge.”
“Massive,” Lucy said with a nod. “I brought you food. Fatty took half of what they had in the cafeteria so we could have as much as we wanted.”
“You mean as much as he wanted,” Donny said, rolling his eyes.
He yawned, wide, taking up his entire face. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The poor guy was exhausted.
“I brought you a plate of food and desserts,” Lucy said. “I didn’t know what you like, so I brought a bit of everything.”
“Thank you,” Donny said, taking the plates and setting them on a table. “Jamie was meant to bring it to me.”
“He didn’t ask me to do it,” Lucy said, defending her friend. “He fell asleep right away. He didn’t eat anything.”
“Do me a favour and make sure there’s enough for him in the morning when he wakes up,” Donny said. “Otherwise Fatty will clear the lot.”
“I will,” Lucy said. “I don’t think food is a problem here. If we run out, the machines will make more.”
“It seems there aren’t many problems here,” Donny said. “Besides the population issue.”
He checked over his shoulders and lowered his voice as if afraid someone would overhear him.
“What’s the story with this place?” he said. “Why is there only one guy here?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I remember there being more people here. Lots of people.”
“This is where you’re from?” Donny said. “If I came from here, I’m not sure I would ever leave. It has everything.”
�
�Maybe not everything,” Lucy said. “I still can’t remember much.”
Donny was too tired to continue his line of questioning. He yawned again.
“How are you doing?” he said.
Lucy smiled. It was typical of the commune members. No matter what trials and tribulations they were going through, they still cared very much about others. It was a trait she assumed was not very common in the rest of the world.
“I’m fine,” Lucy said. “I’m sure Dr. Beck will tell us what happened here.”
“I hope it’s a good story,” Donny said. “I want to know why they never reached out to us, stuck outside in the commune between the Rages and Reavers, scratching a living and dying unnecessarily painful deaths when we didn’t have to.”
He picked up the plate of food and began digging in. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Good, right?” Lucy said.
“Amazing,” Donny said with a thumbs-up.
Lucy sensed Dr. Beck’s story would have to be a big one. There were so many things left unanswered. She wasn’t sure Donny would accept anything less.
5.
JAMIE COULD have done without the nightmares. Images of distended alien bodyparts shedding human skin, revealing a creature with multiple sinister black eyes and two powerful front claws bearing serrated needles plunging into his father’s body over and over again, threatening to tear him apart. A great roar erupted from his father’s throat. Fear, pain. Anger. Disappointment that his sons hadn’t saved him. For that reason, it was the worst sound his father had made.
The roaring morphed into raging, angry snarls from the engines of the Reaver clan that descended from the valley, without mercy. Trapped between the Bug and the Reavers, the innocent commune children were blown and torn to pieces.
Lucy screamed as the bullets slammed into her body. The whole world groaned as if it sensed a touch of destiny in her passing. A line of possibility that had been snuffed out far too early. He looked into Lucy’s dying eyes. They stretched their fingertips toward one another. Before they touched, Lucy’s head exploded as it was pumped full of bullets.
She had been something else. Human, and not human at the same time. Something both more powerful, and yet weaker in the same breath. At her passing, great machines the size of entire cities descended from space and plunged into the Earth, spinning the soil, harvesting the Earth of its valuable resources, on a scale unknown even by the human race.
Deep inside one of those powerful structures, within its dark bowels, were the Bugs. The giant bugs that could inhabit the skin of men. One screamed, turning to look at him. It held out its giant front claws and thrust them into Jamie’s soft belly.
6.
JAMIE SHOT up. Panting, sweating, exhausted. His bedspread soaked with his own bodily excretions. He ran a hand over his stomach, certain he should have felt something there. There was nothing. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was a dream. Just a dream.
Jamie leaned back on his pillow and took a deep breath. Put a hand to his damp forehead.
“Are you all right?” Fatty said.
He was standing at the foot of Jamie’s bed, an obvious look of concern on his rolly polly face.
“I’m all right,” Jamie said.
He didn’t move. He still wasn’t stable.
“You were screaming,” Fatty said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” Jamie snapped.
Despite the insults Fatty had received over the years, he still got hurt by sharp words from his best friend.
“Sorry,” Fatty said.
“No,” Jamie said, leaning on his elbow. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s been a stressful few days. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Fatty said. “I was there too.”
It was only then Jamie noticed his situation. He was in bed, a blanket drawn over him, former soiled clothes removed. New clothes sat on the end of the bed.
“You helped me to bed?” Jamie said.
“No,” Fatty said. “It must have been Lucy. She helped me too.”
“You fell asleep without changing?” Jamie said.
“No,” Fatty said, eyes moving to the side. “I ate a bit too much last night and made myself sick. Think of that. I ate too much! I passed out in the bathroom. Lucy helped me to bed.”
“Is Dad awake yet?” Jamie said.
“I don’t think so,” Fatty said. “ Donny would have told us.”
Jamie reached for his clothes.
“I should go check on them,” he said. “I was supposed to take Donny some food last night.”
“Lucy did it,” Fatty said.
“Lucy,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “The girl we were meant to take care of ends up being the one who takes care of us.”
He pulled the T-shirt on over his head and glanced at the empty, apparently unused, bed beside his own.
“She didn’t sleep last night?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Fatty said. “She might have slept after I went to sleep, then got up first too.”
“What time is it?” Jamie said.
“10am,” Fatty said.
Jamie shook his head. In the commune, he’d normally have completed his morning chores already by now. Now, he’d only just woken up. What a waste of time. His thoughts snagged on the commune. His home.
The Reaver clan had been coming through the valley, stumbling upon their nightmarish scene of destruction. Jamie wondered what they would have made of it. Had they returned to the commune? Or would they get as far from that place as possible? The sight of the bug’s body alone would have sent most men packing. But the Reavers weren’t most men.
Seeing something like that tended to change things. Things could never be the same again. What did it even mean? His head was still a little fuzzy, finding it hard to focus. He’d think about it later.
“Are you hungry?” Fatty said. “There’s still plenty of food. And no flies. I’d love to find out how they keep them away like that. Sure helps to make the food last longer when there aren’t tons of bugs crawling over it.”
“What’s good?” Jamie said, slipping on a fresh pair of socks.
New socks. They felt so soft, not harsh against his skin like the commune clothing. He liked the feel of it. He’d never worn brand new clothes before.
“Everything’s good,” Fatty said.
“Do me a favour and load up a couple rounds of bread with whatever you think is best,” Jamie said.
“That’s a real challenge,” Fatty said. “Are you sure you don’t want to try everything yourself?”
“I want to check on Dad,” Jamie said.
“All right,” Fatty said, rolling up his sleeves and picking up four rounds of bread—two different types!—and began adding ingredients to them, putting the flavours together in his mind before fully committing himself to his final decision.
Jamie picked up his new shoes. Sneakers. Clean, without a single smudge on them. That wouldn’t last long, he thought. He was shocked by their weight, or rather, lack thereof. They could have been made from air. He shook his head, thinking of the things he used to put on his feet. Handmade items from Guinevere. She always complained about not having the fabric and tools she needed. Jamie hadn’t understood what she’d been complaining about. Now he did. They pinched and broke his skin, had no airflow, and gave him terrible blisters whenever he walked for more than an hour. These new foot coverings were unlike anything he had ever seen before. His feet sighed when they slipped into them. Wow.
“Done yet?” Jamie said.
“Just about,” Fatty said. “I’m not sure I got the mixture completely right. It’s the best I can do right now.”
“I’m sure it’s awesome,” Jamie said.
He scooped up the sandwiches and headed for the door. He took one bite and stumbled, bracing himself on the doorframe. The flavours were a party in his mouth. Just a day ago
he’d lamented how good Fatty’s stew was. That was a muddy puddle compared to this.
“What is it?” Jamie said. “You should have a name for it.”
“I don’t know,” Fatty said. “It’s jelly and peanut butter.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever had,” Jamie said.
“Really?” Fatty said with a big grin. “I tried a bunch of combinations yesterday but not that one.”
“You should,” Jamie said. “It’s amazing. You might be rediscovering long-forgotten recipes.”
“Cool,” Fatty said. “Easy to rediscover when no one has had it in decades.”
“Keep on doing it,” Jamie said. “Before long, you’ll turn me into a foodie like you.”
He shook his head in disbelief as he headed down the corridor in the direction of the hospital wards.
7.
JAMIE FELT uncomfortable. He’d been too exhausted the day before to take in the world he suddenly found himself surrounded by. Layers of technology he couldn’t fathom.
He munched on his sandwiches as he passed large wards on either side, individual beds in long rows. They bore archaic names Jamie could hardly understand.
INTENSIVE CARE WARD
BURN CENTRE
CORONARY CARE UNIT
EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT
PEDIATRIC INTENSIVE CARE UNIT
Each world was more descriptive than the last. He enjoyed being in a new place without having to check over his shoulders every few seconds. It was the feeling of a free man, of a species that didn’t need to be constantly afraid for its own survival. It was the feeling only a species at the top of the food chain could enjoy. Never needing to look up.
His father was connected to little white boxes that bleeped with sound and lines of light. If they kept his father alive after the injuries he’s sustained, all to the good.
After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set Page 23
