by Cross, Amy
"So what do you say?" Eriksen continues. "Do you wanna ditch this place and head out west with me? We could be good for each other. Shauna's not the right person for me. I need someone to whip me into shape. I can be a real man, just like you want me to be, if you know how to handle me right. We can even have some fun along the way. After all, you're still an innocent little city girl. I can teach you a hell of a lot."
"You've already taught me one very important thing," I reply.
"What's that?"
"You've taught me to stay away from people like you."
"Fine," he says with a smile, "I guess I'll pick up girls here and there when I find 'em. I'm sure there'll be plenty who recognize the value of a decent man. You're nothing special. I doubt you'd be much good on the new frontier anyway. But when you're rotting in this place, or when one of those creatures is tearing your face off, I hope you remember that I gave you a chance. Sure, I might not be perfect, but we're not living in that kind of world anymore. The only thing that matters is survival, and that's what I was gonna give you." He turns and heads to the door, before glancing back at me. "You're gonna regret your decision," he adds. "You're gonna regret it real fucking bad."
Once he's gone, I take a deep breath. There's something about that guy that really creeps me out, and there's no way I could ever go with him. I guess that means I'll be sticking around the farm for a while. But for how long? Suddenly, I'm struck by the thought that even though Eriksen's a despicable asshole, he might be right when he says that there's no future for us at the farm. Am I just delaying the inevitable?
Elizabeth
Pennsylvania
"It ended up in a trap?" Toad asks with a furrowed brow. "Are you sure?"
I've been sitting next to his bed for the past half hour, filling him in on the details of this morning's excitement. He heard us shouting, and he heard the gunshot, but he's still recovering from his injuries and he wasn't able to come out and help us. To be honest, I was a little shocked when I came to see him today; he seems weaker than before, and I'm worried that he's developing a fever.
"Patricia said she -"
"Patricia said?" he continues, interrupting me. "Did you see it for yourself?"
"No," I reply. "I mean, Bridger saw it, from a distance, and then Patricia went out to look, and she shot it and dumped it in one of the traps. Now she and Bridger think that we should build more traps. I think they want to surround the whole farm with a kind of defensive perimeter, because they think that sooner or later, there are just going to be more and more of the creatures coming to attack us."
"Make sense," he replies. "It's something I was already planning to do. I've got some ideas already."
"I think they want to get started this afternoon," I tell him.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's my farm and I'm the one who decides what gets done and where. I don't want other people running around fixing stuff."
"But until you're up and about -"
"Tell them it's none of their goddamn business," he continues. "Tell them that, Elizabeth! Tell them I'll be back on my feet tomorrow and I'll be the one who fixes the new traps. I'm not having random people digging holes on my property." He pauses for a moment. "I need to know where the traps are, because otherwise I might walk straight into one."
"They'll mark it on a map."
"I don't trust them," he replies. "I don't trust anyone. I'm sorry, but the only person I trust is myself. Tell those assholes that if they dig traps while I'm up here, they'll end up down there on the spikes themselves. Tell them I'll kick them out. They can go and fend for themselves if they don't like the way I run my farm."
"You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" He fixes me with a determined stare, and it's clear that he's getting pretty angry right now. "I should've kicked Eriksen out by now," he mutters. "I should've reminded everyone of my authority. I just didn't want to put Shauna in a bad situation. She'd just end up being dragged along with him. The guy's an asshole. They're all assholes. Don't tell me Patricia doesn't want to take over. She's got her eye on the whole place."
"You're sounding kind of paranoid," I reply.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not paranoid. I'm alert. People said I was paranoid when I moved out here and starting prepping for disaster. They laughed at me. Hell, they probably thought I was losing my mind. Look at me now, though. I'm the one who's sitting pretty with a well-stocked farm. Everyone here, everyone else, owes their life to me. I saved their asses."
Sighing, I realize that he seems absolutely determined to put his foot down. "Fine," I say after a moment. "I'll tell them to stop, but I don't know if they'll listen to me. They're scared." I pause. "To be honest, I'm scared too. This sentry system you're using doesn't seem like it works too well, and sooner or later there are gonna be too many of those things to handle. You remember what the creature said the other day, don't you?"
"I'll handle it," he says firmly. "It's my farm, and my responsibility."
Realizing that he's clearly not going to budge, I decide to stop pushing. "Patricia did a good job," I say, figuring I should try to change the subject. "She's the one who found the creature today."
"I agree," he replies, "but I still don't quite understand what happened this morning. It sounds too easy."
"Patricia said she got lucky."
"I don't believe in luck," he replies. "I believe in careful planning." He pauses, and it's clear that he's not convinced. Something seems to be bugging him today. I guess he's not very good at being a patient. He seems like the kind of guy who wants to be up and about, taking charge of everything, and all this bed-rest seems to be driving him to distraction. I can't help wondering if, deep down, he knows that he's starting to develop a fever, and maybe he's trying to prove that he's fit.
"What about the supplies?" he asks. "There should be enough for a few more weeks -"
"Bridger and Thor say it's under control," I reply. "You're not the only person who can go out and find food, you know." Immediately realizing that I might have said the wrong thing, I try to backtrack. "I mean, we can take care of ourselves while you're getting better. You just have to focus on getting some rest. Are you sure you're not running a fever?"
He shakes his head.
"Let me check," I say, reaching across to him.
"No!" he says firmly, pushing my hand away. "You're not a doctor, Elizabeth. For God's sake, stop fussing over me."
Smiling politely, I realize I should probably leave him alone for a while, but something's making me stay. I guess I'm worried about him, and I want to make sure he's okay.
"I hate this," he says after a moment, trying to sit up in bed. "I've never been sick for a day in my life, and now look at me. I'm a goddamn cripple."
"You'll be back on your feet soon," I tell him, slipping another pillow behind his back. "You got shot, and you almost died. Patricia says you just need to rest for a few more days and then you'll be fine."
"Patricia says a lot of things, doesn't she?" he replies.
I stare at him for a moment. "She's not trying to take over," I say eventually, starting to realize that he's pissed off about the possibility of anyone else managing to keep this place ticking over while he's in bed. He doesn't want to hear about the others managing to get things done; he wants to believe that they can't manage without him. "She's just... Someone has to make decisions, and the others are getting edgy. You don't have to worry about her, though. She wants what's best for the whole farm. It's better like this. At least someone's taking charge while you're up here, and Patricia's better suited than any of the others."
"Sure," he mutters.
"And when you're back on your feet," I continue, "believe me, everyone's gonna be glad to have you back in charge."
"They'd better be," he replies. "It's my farm. If anyone doesn't like the way I run things, they're free to leave. They can take what they brought with them, but nothing more. This isn't a charity."
"No-one wants to l
eave," I say, hoping to reassure him. "They trust you."
"And what about you?" he asks. "Have you thought about my offer?"
"I want to stay," I tell him, immediately feeling better now that my decision is out in the open. "I talked to Eriksen this morning, and there's no way I can go with him. The guy's a complete asshole. The sooner he leaves, the better. He's..." I pause as I try to decide how much to tell him. "I've seen a new side to him," I continue eventually. "The guy clearly only cares about himself. I don't think he even gives a damn about his child."
"Shauna's no angel," he replies, "but Eriksen's bad news."
"Tell me about it," I mutter, thinking to the asshole's clumsy attempt to pick me up in the kitchen earlier.
"I've known him for a long time," Toad continues. "He always had a bit of an edge, but these past few days I've seen something new in him. I guess recent events have changed us all to some extent, but Eriksen..." He pauses. "Don't trust him, Elizabeth. Don't turn your back on him, not even for a second. He only cares about himself and I think he could turn violent in the right circumstances."
"I've already worked that out," I reply. "Don't worry. He says he's leaving in a day or two."
"He told you that?"
I nod.
"Let's hope he sticks to that plan," he mutters. "If he doesn't, I'm gonna have to ask him to leave. He takes too much food and he doesn't contribute a damn thing. The guy's wasted half the time and sleeping it off the rest. It might sound harsh, but we can't afford to have people around who don't contribute to the group."
"He was talking about going out west," I reply. "He wants me to go with him."
"What about Shauna?" he asks.
"I think he's considering leaving her here."
He sighs. "That's about typical for Carl Eriksen."
"He seemed nervous," I continue. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but something didn't seem quite right."
"Then definitely don't trust him. He's undoubtedly been going through the last of my beer, and I wouldn't put it past him to load up his van with as much of our food as he can take." He pauses for a moment, before shifting around and trying to get out of bed. "I have to make sure everything's secure," he says with a gasp. "I can't stay up here like this. The whole goddamn place is gonna fall apart."
"You're not well," I say, trying to push him back down onto the bed.
"I'll manage," he replies, getting to his feet and stumbling a couple of paces toward the door before, finally, he drops down to his knees.
"You can't go downstairs," I tell him, hoping against hope that he'll listen to reason.
"Help me," he says after a moment. "I need someone to support me."
"I'm not helping you leave this room," I reply.
"Help me downstairs," he says firmly. "That's an order!"
"An order?" I pause. "Where do you think this is, boot camp?"
He turns to me, and I can see that there's real anger in his eyes. "This is my farm," he says after a moment, "and while you're my guest, you'll obey my instructions. Now help me up or..." He pauses, and for a moment his eyes seem to lose focus, as if he's finding it harder and harder to remain conscious. He's struggling to stay awake, but his body seems to be dragging him down.
"Toad?" I say after a moment. "Are you okay?"
"I..." His voice trails off, and he seems a little confused.
"You have to listen to me," I say, kneeling next to him and placing a hand on his forehead. "You've got a fever. I'm going to ask Patricia if she's got something I can give you, because right now, you're burning up. Your wound must be infected."
"I'm fine," he whispers, but he seems to be losing consciousness. "I have to get back down there. I have to make sure they're not taking everything. Those fucking thieves are gonna clean the place out..."
"No-one's taking things from you," I reply firmly. "They're just working on the same stuff as always. They're getting ready for lunch and drawing up plans for the new traps."
"They'll leave me with nothing," he says, before his voice trails off. He seems to be becoming increasingly delusional and paranoid, and the sweat is starting to drip from his forehead as he leans forward and tries to crawl toward the door.
"You have to rest," I say, hurrying after him. "Toad, please, you're going to hurt yourself!"
"I can't..." he starts to say, before stopping as if suddenly his whole body has seized up. "I can't move," he whispers, his voice sounding strained and tired. "I need... Elizabeth, I need... You have to help me. You have to... make them... stop."
Moving around behind him, I reach under his arms and start dragging him back toward the bed. It's not easy, and I almost drop him a couple of times, but I finally manage to get him back up onto the mattress. As I do so, however, his bandage falls away and I'm shocked to see a layer of pus oozing from the wound on his shoulder. It's clear that he's got a serious infection, and whatever Patricia's been doing to help him, it's not working. I pull the stained bandage away and toss it on the floor before rearranging Toad on the bed. I have no idea what I should do next, but that wound looks much worse than the other day.
"Can you hear me?" I ask. "Toad?"
His lips move slightly, but his eyes are closed and he barely seems to be aware that I'm here.
"I'm going to get Patricia," I continue, trying not to panic. "She'll know what to do. I'll get her to come and take a look. You've got an infection, but you're going to be okay."
Elizabeth
Pennsylvania
"Patricia!" I shout, hurrying away from the farmhouse and making my way between the trees. "Something's wrong with Toad! You have to hurry!"
Having left Toad in his bed, I've come to get Patricia so she can fix his bandage and give him something to deal with the fever. The others claim that she headed out into the forest to check the traps, but so far I'm not having any luck finding her. I've got a rifle over my shoulder, just in case I run into any more of those creatures, and I'm starting to wonder whether Patricia was telling the truth when she said she was going to check the traps; after all, there's no sign of her so far, and it's as if she's simply vanished from the face of the planet.
As I trudge across the leafy forest floor, I start to feel more and more nervous. Glancing over my shoulder to check that nothing's following me, I can't stop thinking about the creatures and imagining them swarming toward the farmhouse. Eriksen might be an asshole, but he's got a point when he says that we can't just sit around here forever and hope we can pick the creatures off one by one. Sooner or later, they're going to arrive in greater numbers, and we need something that's more effective than a bunch of rifles and a dwindling supply of bullets.
Just as I'm about to call Patricia's name again, I suddenly realize I can hear a voice in the distance. I immediately take the rifle from over my shoulder, before cautiously making my way between the trees. It sounds as if Patricia's out here talking to someone, but as far as I know everyone's back at the house. Finally, I spot her up ahead, standing in a small clearing and staring down into what appears to be one of the traps.
"If you think that," she's saying, unaware of my presence, "you're insane. I've got no reason to do that. You're lucky I've kept you alive this long. The others would've put a bullet through your head as soon as they saw you."
"I don't feel lucky," says a voice, apparently coming from down in the trap. "You might as well kill me. This body is becoming an inconvenience. I have so many more, and most of them are in much better condition. Please, do me a favor and finish this one off so that I no longer have to pay it any attention."
"Not until you've given me some answers," she replies. "I want to know exactly what the hell you're doing here and what's going to happen next."
"You think I'm going to open up to you?"
"I think you're going to talk eventually," she says firmly. "I think you're smart enough to understand that your current approach is failing."
Taking a step forward, I accidentally tread on a sharp twig; it snaps, and
Patricia turns to face me.
"What are you doing out here?" she asks, looking shocked.
"Do we have company?" asks the voice in the pit. "Good. You were beginning to bore me."
"I was looking for you," I say, getting closer to her. As I reach the edge of the pit, I look down and see to my shock that one of the creatures is down there, with a wooden pole running through its chest and pinning it down. It's a remarkably similar sight to the creature that Toad and I encountered the other day in the forest.
"It's okay," Patricia says, her voice filled with tension. "He's not armed. He can't hurt us."
"You again," the creature says with a smile. He looks to have been a middle-aged guy, at least when he was alive; now that he's dead, his skin is gray and yellow, and he's clearly started to rot. "Why do I keep running into you, girl? Do you think it's destiny? You might as well tell me your name, at least. Maybe you did already, but I have so many things to keep track of."
"What the hell's happening out here?" I ask, turning to Patricia.
She pauses, as if she's not quite sure what to say.
"This is the creature from this morning, isn't it?" I continue, suddenly realizing that Toad was right when he said the whole thing seemed too easy. "You didn't kill it. You captured it."
"Scientific research," she replies. "I need to know what the hell these things want, and for that, I needed a live specimen."
"But -"
"There's no point just blowing their heads off every time they get close," she continues. "The others would be too scared to let one of them stay alive like this, so I figured I'd keep it to myself." She pauses. "You can't tell them. There's no way this thing can get loose, so it's not a threat. I just need to know what's happening, and the only way to do that is to perform first-hand scientific research on a representative sample."
"She's going to torture me," the creature says, smiling as it stares at me. "Humans are always so quick to pull things apart when then don't understand them. She thinks she can cut me open and find out how I work. I hate to break it to you, doll, but that's not going to do you much good. I doubt you've got the intelligence or the equipment to understand a damn thing."
