Humanity's Edge- The Complete Trilogy

by Paul B. Kohler

  The girls slowed their tired legs, allowing Clay to step around and lead them off the path and through the weeds. Sweat poured down their faces; dehydration bleeding them dry. Clay glanced back at them and thought they resembled two skeletons, both hunched over, the hollows of their cheeks prominent. Their lips were chapped, specks of dead skin surrounding the darkness of their mouths.

  If he didn’t get some food and water in them soon, they would all be stuck in the woods, too exhausted to continue.

  Once in the stand of trees, Lane and Alayna collapsed in the shadows. Alayna leaned her head against her backpack, whipping her gun from around her shoulders. “Just end me now,” she whispered, sounding foolish. “So tired.”

  Lane eased her cheek to the grass, humming to herself. “It feels as comfortable as any bed,” she whispered. “I could sleep like this for days.”

  “I’m going to go see if I can find some water or food,” Clay said, pointing deeper into the forest. “Before it gets too dark. Still light enough that I can see.”

  “Be careful out there,” Alayna said.

  “Don’t run off again like last time,” Clay teased. “You nearly gave me a panic attack.”

  He turned away, oddly grateful to leave them behind, if just for a little while. He eased through the overgrowth, stopping a few times and dropping low to the ground to listen intently for sounds of wildlife. His arms brimmed with energy as he righted himself effortlessly. Pumping upward, toward the top of the hill, he marveled at the beautiful canyons around him—wondering if he’d ever take a leisurely hike again. Back in the old days, people hadn’t hiked for fun. They’d lived, walking from place to place, finding no joy in it. Having to do it out of necessity. Perhaps that was the future, as well.

  After nearly a half an hour, Clay heard a stream bubbling in the near distance. Once he reached it, he knelt down, sipping directly from the water and wetting his nose, his hair, his cheeks. The sweat rinsed off and into the stream, cleansing him. He was being rejuvenated, completely and totally.

  Without delay, he produced the large canteen from his side, watching as the water filled it. Easing back through the forest, he found the path back without even thinking, as if instinct had taken over. He was now running in pure survival mode.

  But his excursion wasn’t entirely fruitful. He found no signs of food. No berries. No squirrels. Nothing. He could try again later.

  When he got to the women, they were half-delirious, their heads still on the grass. Clay handed Alayna the canteen, watching as her mouth was drawn to it, like a bee to pollen. She drank greedily, snorting slightly, before passing the canteen to Lane and swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Her face was still covered in sweat.

  “Clay?” she whispered. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know,” Clay said. He remained standing, his fresh face looking bright and eager.

  “You look fine,” Alayna said softly, perhaps revealing feelings that remained, bubbling beneath the surface. “How do you do it? How do you stay so—so perfect?”

  “It’s the nanites,” Lane said, forcing her mouth away from the canteen. “He’s like a top-tier athlete now. Nothing can stop him. Just look at that body. He’s even more muscular now than he was when he arrived in Helen.”

  Clay didn’t blush. Lane passed the water back to Alayna. “You girls think that if we get a good night’s sleep here, we can move on tomorrow?”

  “I can tell you that I’ll try my hardest,” Alayna said. “That’s all I can really give you, Clay.”

  Lane nodded, her hair swirling around her ears. “Some food would help, I think.”

  “That’s easier said than done right now,” Clay said. He found a spot near a tree, a short distance away. Stretching his muscular legs out, he felt them relax after their something like twelve or thirteen miles of walking. “We can try again tomorrow. Just drink as much water as your body can hold and get some sleep.”

  Alayna looked at him, her eyes shining, almost pleading. But Clay ignored her, aware of her need. He remembered the way she’d traced his finger after he’d killed the crazed with the neutralizer. Did she not understand that he needed to be with his wife, to focus on his daughter? Did she not realize that them being together was a pure mistake, nothing more?

  “Sleep. Right,” Lane said, snorting slightly. “Trying to sleep at the end of the world is like trying to sleep when you think Santa’s on his way. You never really know what you’re going to get in the morning. But in this case, I don’t think I really want to find out.”

  “Just relax,” Clay murmured. “No use worrying. You’re just going to make yourself sick. And then they win.”

  But he didn’t particularly feel as if the crazed would win the war. At least, not now. His body was agile, lithe. He could defeat half an army of crazed, with a single flick of the trigger. Worry dropped away, and he relaxed completely, listening to the ragged breathing of the women across the clearing.

  Chapter 28

  As the minutes ticked into hours, the brutality of night fell around them. What had been a warm day settled into a deep chill. While Clay remained alert—his eyes still staring up at the tops of trees—he knew that the girls were not doing well. He could almost feel their shivers through the grass; he could hear their chattering teeth.

  Still, he thought, maybe they’d get some much-needed rest despite the harsh environment. It was like Maia, back home in the crib, crying out for his and Valerie’s attention. They’d grown accustomed to racing in to check on her, to ensure she was all right. And each time, it seemed certain that she’d just cried out to them because she was lonely, that she didn’t want to let them go. Gradually, they’d had to force themselves to stay away, allowing little Maia to cry it out.

  Clay felt no discomfort whatsoever. But after nearly an hour of their continued quivering, he rose and watched as the girls pressed their bodies against one another. Sighing, Clay slipped between them. Immediately, they were drawn like moths to the flame, pressing against him. They continued to shiver, but eventually their breathing slowed. Their eyelids began to droop. Their stress, once a raging beast within each of them, decreased. Lane even found peace and fell asleep, like a child in his arms.

  But Alayna remained awake. Clay could sense her mind racing beside him, her lips parting then closing again, her mouth filled with all the things she still wanted to say.

  Clay felt it. With Alayna’s breasts pressed against his chest, he felt lust welling up, like a massive wave. It crashed over him, and he bit his lip to avoid kissing her. Would they be like this all night, dancing in and out of consciousness, unable to say the things they were feeling?

  Did Clay have to explain to her just what he felt? About his wife? About his daughter?

  And the lingering worry that if he did sleep with Alayna—which, on so many different levels he really wanted to—he would pass along the nanites. Sure, that would give her superhuman strength and power. It would stop her freezing and her hunger. But it could also destroy her.

  He would never do that to her. Not on purpose. Never in a million years.

  “Is something wrong?” Alayna finally whispered, her voice raspy.

  Clay felt his heart crack down the center. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He couldn’t form words.

  “Ever since we got to Helen,” Alayna began, sounding fragile. “You’ve been so standoffish. Like you don’t want to be near me, even—even when I’m the person in your life you know best, right now. I hate to say it, but it’s like you don’t want to be a part of my life any longer. Clay—I felt things for you. I still feel things for you. I can’t deny them—I mean—I still love Megan, of course . . .” She trailed off, her eyes growing wet with tears.

  Clay didn’t speak. He hated facing reality. He could feel it like a rock in his throat.

  Turning his head toward Lane, Clay watched as her chest rose and fell, rose and fell, assuring him she was still asleep. Her eyes danced behind her eyelids, showing her activ
e dreams. At this turning point, in this post-apocalyptic world, Clay could only imagine what her mind created.

  “Say something,” Alayna begged. “Please. Anything. You’re going to destroy me if you don’t.”

  Clay thought for several moments, readjusting on the cold, rock-hard ground. “It’s not that I don’t think about it,” he said finally. “It’s just that, if these scientists are telling the truth—if the nanites inside me can really be transmitted virally, then I don’t think it’s wise that we . . .” He trailed off, leaving the words in the air.

  Alayna looked into his eyes, assessing. After a very small forever, she nodded, her chin tucking against his chest. “I see,” she whispered. She kissed the warmth at the nape of his neck. Clay’s spine tingled. “I think you might be right.”

  “I knew you’d understand,” Clay said. “The reason behind it.”

  But Alayna pressed on, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Just so you know,” she said. “If this is the end of the world, the end of life and civilization as we know it, then I don’t want to die alone. That’s the worst fate of all. Loneliness.”

  Clay’s heart felt squeezed. He wrapped his arm tightly around Alayna, this woman he’d known professionally for years—intimately for far less than that—and stroked her hair, hoping he could comfort her enough to allow her to sleep. Neither of them spoke again. But slowly, surely, he felt Alayna’s muscles loosen; he felt her body collapse beside his. Her inhalations came few and far between as she escaped the chilly world around them, finding a very small interval of peace.

  Chapter 29

  Alayna blinked awake the next morning, watching as the sunlight filtered in through the trees above. Shivering slightly, she turned her head toward the warm body beside her, expecting the sturdiness of Clay, his firm embrace. But instead, she was met by the pleasant face of Lane, who was still conked out, her pink lips parted slightly—looking almost sensual.

  Alayna had not looked at Lane that way before.

  Pulling back slightly, not wanting her to awaken and catch her staring, Alayna traced the outline of Lane’s slim form with her eyes, wondering if the she’d ever been with another woman. Alayna had coped with bisexual tendencies since high school, although she’d had to fight for her emotions, for her status in life. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to be free with her sexuality, and Carterville had been a small town, full of gossips.

  Lane’s eyes popped open. She blinked several times at Alayna, as if she were seeing her for the first time. After a long pause, a smile stretched her cheeks.

  “Hi,” she breathed.

  “Hi,” Alayna said, giggling slightly, girlishly.

  “Where did Clay go?” Lane asked, glancing around the clearing.

  “Who knows?”.

  “You’re saying we don’t need him?” Lane asked, her eyes bright, playful. “Because I seem to sense something between the two of you.”

  “No. That was just a small mistake. Something I don’t regret, mind you,” Alayna said, rising up on her elbow and bringing her hand to Lane’s upper arm. She felt at the firmness of Lane’s arm through her shirt.

  Lane’s left eyebrow nearly leapt from her forehead. “I see,” she said.

  “In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need men. For anything,” Alayna said.

  “No procreation?”

  “Can’t we just freeze their sperm for all future generations?”

  “Down with men, then?” Lane laughed. “Should we abandon Clay in the wilderness?”

  “Could he handle it out here alone?” Alayna asked, laughing.

  “You’re evil,” Lane whispered, leaning toward her. Her lips were mere inches from Alayna’s. After craving attention from Clay the night before, Alayna felt her lips tingle with desire. If she just nudged forward, only slightly; if she bridged this distance . . .

  Clay pushed in through the brush, finding the girls staring at one another, inches apart, their stunning profiles looking almost as if they could fit together, like pieces of a puzzle. He swallowed, then cleared his throat, alerting them that he was there.

  Alayna spun toward him, giving him a semi-evil laugh. Was she trying to get back at him for not sleeping with her? Was this one of those games women play, during which they push and pull you, never allowing you to know exactly what they’re thinking? He remembered Valerie doing that during her pregnancy, when her hormones had been all out of whack, sending her sobbing into the bedroom some days, breaking plates on others, and then cuddling him till she demanded sex on the good days. The good days never seemed to come often enough.

  “Oh. You’re here,” Lane said, her voice blasé.

  “We’d already made peace with the fact that you probably weren’t coming back,” Alayna said, chuckling. “We’d plotted a future without men.”

  “It was oddly gorgeous, actually. We’d just freeze a bunch of sperm, recreate civilization without war, without greed—without all that shit you men cause for us. Doesn’t it sound like a paradise?” Lane asked, lifting her face away from Alayna’s with a swift motion.

  Clay laughed nervously, his eyes dancing from Alayna to Lane, then back again. What the hell was going on?

  “Well . . . that’s nice,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his head. Confusion clouded his brain.

  “Not just nice,” Alayna said. “Life-altering.” She winked at Lane, almost cartoonish in her motions. She and Lane burst into laughter, rolling back on the grass and clutching their stomachs. Clay hadn’t seen such an uproar since before the crazed had begun their attacks. A smile crept across his face.

  “Ha,” he blurted. “All right. All right. You’ve had your fun.”

  “Oh, we have,” Alayna agreed, swiping a tear from her eye. “If only you knew just how much.”

  Sensing this was a jab, Clay ducked it. “I scouted down the road,” he said, trying to steer them back on track. “It’s clear as far as the eye can see. I think we’re about eight or nine hours away from Dearing. The sooner we get on the road, the better we’ll be.”

  “The better we’ll be. You hear that, Alayna? The man has a plan,” Lane joked, rising from the grass. “Guess we better listen to him.”

  Alayna snickered, helping Lane gather their things. They both looked thinner, diminished.

  “I refilled the water,” Clay said, thrusting the canteen forward. “But still no food.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Alayna teased him. She wrapped her hands around the canteen and took a long pull, like an alcoholic getting his drink on. She passed it to Lane, who did the same. They drank a quarter of the canteen, leaving the rest for the journey.

  Together, they set off down the trail they’d crawled up the night before, traversing the overgrowth cautiously, and eyeing the welcoming pavement down below.

  “I hope you’re being careful, Alayna,” Lane continued the game. “Otherwise this big, strong man will have to carry you down the mountain. And I don’t think you want that. Do you?”

  “Oh, he can take me in his arms whenever he pleases,” Alayna said.

  Clay knew this was truthful, yet it was edged with sarcasm. He rolled his eyes, trying to come up with his own jokes.

  “You girls better watch it. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of history.”

  “Ha. We already are,” Alayna said.

  Clay swallowed, realizing his joke rang true. “Fair point.”

  “What do you think will happen with all the crazed when we destroy them with the device?” Alayna asked Lane, stepping over a bush. A few twigs peppered the ground.

  “I’m really not sure,” Lane said. “I imagine them falling all over each other, all at once. Making little hills of humanity’s mistake.”

  “I hate that they were all once people. Like us. We’ve done our best to show mercy to the people who were going to transition, the ones that we knew,” Alayna said. “But everyone else. I mean, imagine. Some of our neighbors. Some of our friends.”

  “We don’t know who’s crazed and
who isn’t, yet,” Clay said, his voice stern.

  He hated that he showed his irritation, his fear, so readily. Thoughts of Maia and Valerie once again floated to the surface. Silence hung between them as they trotted onto the road, all three minds hunting for a different topic. The truth was, the apocalypse was never far from their minds.

  “Damn, Clay. I think you have even more muscles than you did last night,” Lane commented.

  Clay had already pulled ahead of them, hardly able to slow his feet. Taking a deep breath, he pulled up.

  “These nanites. Wish I had them when I was training for that sprint marathon last year.”

  “You didn’t even train!” Alayna said, laughing.

  “I ran five miles. Once,” Clay admitted.

  “And then you ate like three donuts that morning.”

  “So did you,” Clay said, giving her a pointed look.

  “We didn’t have a whole lot to care about back then, besides pastries. We were like the cops from the Simpsons. All we ever did was put people in jail for unnecessary kissing. How foolish does that sound now?”

  They continued down the road, chatting amicably, the girls trying to keep their minds away from hunger. Clay hadn’t felt a single pang, although he did have a persistent daydream about eating a hamburger with extra cheese. He imagined the juices dripping down his face, then Maia laughing at him, at his commitment to gobbling the patty in just a few bites. He envisioned Valerie telling Maia she would never get away with eating like such a slob.

  “I would destroy one of those burritos from the midtown diner,” Alayna said, clearly having her own food thoughts. “They weren’t authentic Mexican, no. But they could slather cheese on a tortilla over there, and that’s all I really want right now. Megan wouldn’t let me eat them very often. Said they would make me fat. I wouldn’t mind being fat right now,” she chortled.