Mass Extinction Event (Book 3): Days 9 to 16

by Cross, Amy

  Just as I'm about to go back over to the other side of the basement, I realize that I haven't actually touched the girl's body yet. Normally, that would be a good thing, but I feel as if I should at least touch her once, just so that she knows she's not alone. Taking a deep breath, I lift up one of the sacks and see her mummified hand. Slowly, I reach down and brush one of my fingers against her dry, wrinkled skin. It's not much, but I figure she probably spent her last days in pain and misery, desperately hoping that someone would come and save her. No-one came, but at least I arrived eventually.

  I try to work out what Joe would do in a situation like this. He'd probably have spent the whole night screaming and banging on the door, which is kind of what I did, but I can't help thinking that eventually he'd have come up with a plan. He'd have stayed angry and he'd have damn near ripped that door away. Then again, Joe was pretty strong, whereas I've always been kinda weedy. Joe would never even have got us into this mess in the first place. He'd have kept his guard up more, and he'd have made sure that no old man could ever get the jump on us. At least when Joe was around, I felt that we could manage, but now I feel as if it's only a matter of time before I die.

  Once I'm back in the far corner, I can't help wondering if I'm going to end up like that girl. One day, will someone else be trapped down here, and will they find both of our bodies? For the first time, I feel as if I've got no hope at all.

  Elizabeth

  Pennsylvania

  As soon as the sun rises, I start getting ready for the journey back to the farm. The fire lasted most of the night, and my clothes - although a little smoky - are now dry. I get changed quickly, refill Toad's backpack as best I can, and then finally I kneel next to him and check his pulse. He's still alive, and there's no sign of a fever. With the rain having passed, I figure I just have to get him home as fast as possible. It's not going to be easy.

  Based on the position of the sun, I figure the farm is somewhere beyond the line of trees directly facing the cave. It takes me a couple of minutes to gather Toad up in my arms. He's not particularly heavy, but I'm the kind of person who's never really had to carry anything heavier than a fully-loaded shopping bag, and even then I complained all the way home. I can feel my body struggling to hold Toad's weight, but I can't leave him in the cave, so I start to slowly stagger out into the forest.

  Within a couple of meters, my feet slip on the wet leaves and I crash to the ground, with Toad landing on top of me. My first thought is that I might have made his injury worse, but he seems to be okay. I crawl out from under him and get ready to pick him up again, but at the last moment I'm struck by the realization that I can't do this. Sure, it'd be great if I had the strength to carry the guy for hours and hours, all the way back to the farm, but I physically can't, and there's no point getting us both killed just because I want to prove a point. I can move faster if I'm alone, and I figure I can get Patricia and bring her back here.

  After I've placed Toad back in the cave, I work on getting the fire restarted. I use his technique to strip wet bark from the wood, and finally - after not too much effort - I get the fire going. I arrange him as close as I dare, and then I turn and hurry out of the cave. I don't have long, and I need to get back here with help well before nightfall.

  The journey back to the farm is long and slow, and at times I'm not certain that I know the right way. At the same time, I'm careful to make sure that I know how to find the cave again. After all, there's no point making my way back and finding Patricia and the others, only to discover that I've no idea how to get us back to Toad. Hurrying through the forest, I force myself to cling to the hope that somehow, through some kind of miracle, I might actually manage to save Toad and prove that I can survive in hard times. The odds are low, but I can't give up just yet. I have to keep trying.

  After several hours, I emerge from the trees and finally spot the farm in the valley below. For a few seconds, I stand and stare at the miraculous sight, barely able to believe that it's real. Hurrying down the side of the hill, I finally reach the front door and race inside to find Bridger standing in the kitchen, rolling dough.

  "Where the hell have you two been?" he asks, before I see a hint of realization in his eyes. "Where's Toad?"

  "He's hurt," I say breathlessly. "I need Patricia."

  "In the store-room," he replies.

  Racing past him, I run along the corridor and into the store-room. I pull up short as I see that Patricia is over in the corner with Thor, who's got his hand under her shirt, fondling her breasts.

  "Elizabeth!" Patricia shouts, pushing Thor away and hurrying over to me, while also re-buttoning her shirt. "What's wrong? What happened out there?"

  "It's Toad," I say, trying to stay calm. "He's hurt. I tried to help him, but you've got to come!"

  "I'll grab my bag," she replies, hurrying out into the corridor.

  "What did you do to him?" Thor asks, clearly annoyed at having his little session interrupted.

  "One of the creatures shot him," I say, turning to follow Patricia before Thor grabs my shoulder and pulls me back toward him. "Get the hell off me!" I shout.

  "I'm not gonna hurt you," he says quietly, refusing to loosen his grip. "I just want to make sure you realize that you owe me. Dr. Connors was gonna give me something nice just now. It's only fair that you compensate me for the loss. How about tonight?"

  "Go fuck yourself," I say, pulling away and running out into the corridor.

  "Maybe tomorrow, then!" Thor shouts after me. "But soon, okay?"

  As soon as Patricia has got her medical kit together, she and I head back out to the forest. I explain everything as we go, filling her in on the encounter with the creature. She seems to find it a little hard to believe at first, and it's almost as if she doesn't quite trust me, but eventually she starts to accept that the story, however improbable, is exactly what happened. She's also worried that I don't know the way to the caves, and she keeps trying to lead me to some other set of caves that she thinks must be the ones we're looking for, but I'm adamant that I know the way and, sure enough, after a couple of hours we reach the small clearing next to the cave where I left Toad. The fire is still just about burning, and there's no sign that the scene has been disturbed while I was away.

  "He's alive," Patricia says as she kneels next to him. Opening her medical bag, she immediately gets to work checking the wound on Toad's shoulder. Whereas I worked slowly and tentatively, she clearly knows what she's doing, and there's something reassuring about watching her deal with the problem.

  "I did the best I could," I tell her, terrified that I might have made things worse. "I took the bullet out, but I think there are still pieces in there."

  "You did good," she replies, grabbing a pair of tweezers from her bag. She dips the tip into a small bottle of sanitizer, before pouring the rest onto the wound. Finally, she starts extracting the last of the bullet fragments. "We have to get them all out," she tells me as she works. "Even the slightest piece could kill him later." Working in silence for a few minutes, she eventually sets the tweezers aside and grabs some tapes and gauze from her bag.

  "What are you going to do?" I ask.

  "We need to close the wound for the journey back," she explains. "Then it's just a matter of keeping it sterile and letting it heal."

  I watch as she finishes her work. Within a few minutes, she's managed to get the wound dressed, and it looks a thousand times more secure and effective than the patchwork effort that I put together.

  "Is he going to be okay?" I ask.

  "He's going to be fine," she replies, before turning to me. "Show me the creature."

  "Why?" I ask.

  "I want to see it."

  "Shouldn't we get going?"

  "Show me the creature," she says again. "Or do I have to go wandering around out there until I find it?"

  "There are traps," I reply. "I'll show you the way."

  It takes a few minutes for us to reach the clearing where the creature fell into the
trap. Sure enough, when we look down into the pit, the creature's body is still down there, although its carcass has been almost completely covered by rainwater.

  "You destroyed its head?" Patricia asks after a moment.

  I nod.

  "That always seems to stop them," she replies, clearly lost in thought. "I guess the key is to separate the brain from the rest of the body. They're actually not that difficult to bring down, and most of them aren't even that fast." Kneeling next to the edge of the pit, she leans a little closer.

  "Be careful," I say. "Can't we just leave it alone?"

  "Toad never lets me go near them after we've killed them," she replies. "While he's incapacitated, I figure I might as well get a better look." Suddenly, with no warning, she starts climbing down into the pit, and soon she's examining the creature's corpse directly. She picks up a piece of its skull that has been floating in the rainwater, and carefully she scrapes a piece of brain matter away from the bone.

  "What are you doing?" I hiss. "You have to get out of there!"

  "It's dead," she replies firmly. "There's no risk of infection, either. I've seen people touch these things and avoid getting sick. As far as I can tell, those of us who've survived are simply immune to whatever virus is causing this to happen." She examines the stump where the creature's head used to be. "The decomposition process didn't stop," she says after a moment. "Eventually, this thing would have just rotted away. Unless the creatures can reproduce, which I highly doubt is possible, there's no way they can last more than a few weeks."

  "So they'll just die off?" I ask.

  She pauses. "I'd like to think so, but I also know that wherever there's a problem, life always finds a way. These things are intelligent, and I wouldn't be surprised if they've got some kind of plan. New lifeforms don't just spring up and then die away. There has to be a mechanism for them to keep going. Then again, maybe that's not what's happening here. These things didn't evolve. They were just suddenly here, which means someone created them."

  "You shouldn't be down there," I continue. "You might get it."

  "Get what?" She smiles. "You think the nasty monster is gonna convert me, huh?"

  "What if it's like a virus?" I ask.

  "I'm a doctor," she replies. "Do you seriously think I'm dumb enough to take a risk like that?" She pauses. "I've touched one of these things before, Elizabeth. Before I reached the farm, one of the creatures attacked me. Hell, it even scratched my arm and drew blood. I was terrified. I thought I'd turn into one of them, but eventually I realized that's not how it works."

  "It's still dangerous," I tell her.

  "What do you think's gonna happen?" she asks. "You think it's gonna infect me by magic? Don't be superstitious, Elizabeth. I'm starting to get a good idea of how these things work. If we're going to stop them permanently, we need to address the situation rationally. I'm not squeamish." She starts examining the creature again, using a small scalpel to cut away a section of skin and meat from its shoulder, before placing the specimen in a small plastic pouch that she slips into her pocket.

  "You're taking part of it back to the farm?" I ask.

  "Gotta have a souvenir," she replies with a smile.

  "I think they've all got the same mind," I tell her.

  She looks up at me. "That's impossible," she says after a moment.

  "This creature remembered seeing me in New York," I reply. "It remembered everything that had happened to the other creature. It even talked about having to control so many different bodies. It's as if there's one mind, and it's in every one of these things. The other one, the one I heard talking in New York, mentioned something about being able to see people in Tokyo."

  "I don't get it," Patricia replies. "How does that even work?"

  "It's like there's one mind that's looking out at the world through hundreds or millions of pairs of eyes," I explain. "I know that sounds crazy, but all these creatures seem to have the same mind. I can't even begin to explain it, but I've heard two of them talking now, and they've both admitted it."

  "We'll need a live specimen if we're going to work out what the hell's going on," she says, climbing out of the pit. "Toad thinks it's too dangerous, but it's more dangerous to be ignorant. It's a pity you killed this one, Elizabeth. It looks as if it was trapped already."

  "He shot Toad!" I point out, annoyed that she thinks I did something wrong. "The damn thing had a gun!"

  "Still," she replies, "it would have been useful to have studied it first." She pauses. "You did the right thing, though. You did really well here, Elizabeth. Toad almost certainly would have died if you hadn't been here to help him. You saved his life." She puts a hand on my shoulder. "So, are you up for the journey back. If you take Toad's feet, I'll take his shoulders. It's not going to be easy, but we can reach the farm before sundown."

  "Sure," I say, and we start walking back toward the cave. I can't help wondering if Patricia's right. Did I really save Toad's life?

  "You okay?" she asks.

  "I'm fine," I reply, even though it's not really true. I feel as if my mind is blocking out as many of my thoughts and emotions as possible, leaving me with nothing but a kind of blank, empty fog in my mind; at the same time, all those emotions are still inside me somewhere, and I'm scared that eventually they'll burst loose and I'll be overwhelmed.

  Thomas

  Missouri

  "Please," I whisper, sitting by the door, hoping against hope that maybe the old man is on the other side, listening to me. "Let me out. I just want to get out of here. I'll do anything you want, but you have to let me out."

  Silence.

  "Please," I say again, with tears in my eyes. "You can't leave me down here. You can't just leave me to die. Why would you do that? I can help you. I can do things. Anything you need, just tell me and I'll get it done. All you have to do is feed me and give me water."

  I wait.

  "Just let me know that you're alive," I continue, trying to keep my voice from trembling. It's crazy, but as much as I hate the old man, I desperately need him to come back for me. "You don't have to tell me about the girl down here. I really don't care, and it's not like I'm gonna tell anyone. Just let me out of here, and I won't give you any trouble. I promise."

  No reply.

  "What did I do?" I ask, hoping against hope that God might be able to hear me. "I tried to do everything right. I tried to make Joe do the right thing. It's not my fault that everyone died, so why are you punishing me?" Pausing fora moment, I realize that although I keep waiting for an answer, there might be another explanation. Maybe God doesn't exist after all. Why would he punish so many innocent people? Why would he leave this man alive, and let him lock me down in his basement? I want to keep believing, but at the moment it's too hard. The whole world just seems cruel and empty.

  As tears pour down my face, I try to keep from sobbing. The truth is, I'm starting to think that there's no way I'll ever get out of this basement. Either by accident or on purpose, the old man has left me to die down here, just like he left that girl to die, and no-one's ever going to come and find me. I'm going to starve, or I'll die from lack of water. It's going to be slow, and it's going to be painful, and eventually all that'll be left of me will be a withered corpse, just like the girl.

  Elizabeth

  Pennsylvania

  "Hey," Toad says later that day, as I enter his room back at the farm. He's laid out on his bed, and although he seems weak, at least he's conscious. "I guess I owe you."

  "How are you feeling?" I ask, wandering over and looking down at the blood-stained bandages on his shoulder.

  "I've been better," he replies. "Never actually been shot before, so that's a first. I always wondered what it'd feel like, and now I know. It feels like crap."

  Smiling, I sit on the old wooden chair next to his bed.

  "It's definitely a story to tell people," he continues. "The day I was shot by a zombie. I don't suppose you saved the bullet, did you?"

  "Sorry," I repl
y. "I left it in the cave."

  "Damn," he says, "that would have been a hell of a trophy." He pauses. "So Dr. Connors tells me that you basically performed some minor surgery on my shoulder. Without that, I probably would have died out there."

  "You'd have been fine," I tell him.

  "I don't think so. I'd probably have bled to death, and even if I hadn't, I'd have ended up with an infection." Sitting up, he grimaces with pain for a moment. "We've got painkillers," he continues, "but I don't want to use them up. I can handle this."

  I smile politely, but I'm not really sure what to say. The whole experience out there in the forest has left me feeling kind of stunned, and even though I haven't slept for the best part of a couple of days, I'm totally wired and wide awake.

  "So what's wrong?" Toad asks eventually. "You just spent two days in the wilderness, you faced down a goddamn zombie, and you saved a guy's life, but you look like something's bothering you."

  "It's just..." I pause, wondering whether or not I should really say this to him. "I keep thinking about how I saved you," I continue after a moment, "and I can't stop thinking about my brother. If I'd done the same thing back then, maybe he'd still be alive. Maybe I'd have been able to save his life."

  "You can't think like that," Toad replies.

  "But it's true! What if he didn't need to die! What if someone smarter, someone better at this kind of thing, could have kept him alive?" I wait for him to say something, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I'm right. "Ever since Henry's death," I continue, "I've been telling myself that there's nothing I could have done to help him, but now I've realized that I could have done something. Do you think that's what he was thinking when he died? Was he wondering why I didn't help?"