by Mike Kraus
Ignoring Captain Waters, Russell faced Rachel, firing questions at a rapid pace. “Lab in DC? What branch do you work for? Are you involved in the military? Research branch? What about these unusual chemical signatures?”
Captain Waters took Russell by the arm again and led him back to the Humvee, asking Rachel to give them a moment. She nodded in approval and looked at her feet, impatient at the delay. Lieutenant Roche still stood where he was at the start of the conversation, watching both her and the other pair who were deep in a heated conversation. Near the end, Russell threw his hands up in the air, shouting “I have no idea!” as Waters continued talking to him in a slow, deep voice. Rachel eyed the captain. His voice and mannerisms reminded her of Jeremy, especially with how he handled defusing tense situations. Never one to raise his voice, Jeremy seemed to be able to instill fear, respect, love and devotion with the same tone of voice depending on the situation at hand. Lost in her thoughts, Rachel didn’t notice when the captain walked up to her.
“Ms. Walsh, Russell here tells me that the only way you’d know about the lack of radiation is if you really were a scientist, so I’m going to take you at your word.” Rachel’s face brightened at this as Waters continued. “Before I can try to help you, though, I have to have more information. I understand and respect the need for informational security, but given the current situation, I’m not about to risk the lives of Roche and Russell on a fool’s errand.”
Rachel sighed. She had expected this, though she hoped that she wouldn’t have to reveal more than she already had. “As I said, Captain, what I’m working on was classified at the top levels of security. The only thing I can tell you that I haven’t already is that I have intimate information about this attack. If I can’t get to my lab in DC, then I won’t be able to do anything about the aftermath.”
“So what you’re saying is that if you get to your lab, you’ll be able to do something about the aftermath of the attack?” Captain Waters spoke with a note of hesitation in his voice, weighing whether or not he should trust the word of a woman who showed up out of nowhere.
“What I’m saying, Captain, is…” Rachel hesitated, then decided that one more piece of information leaking out wouldn’t matter much at this point anyway. “What I’m saying, Captain, is that if I can get to my lab, I believe that I’ll be able to find out exactly what happened, which will help us find a way to move forward from here.”
Rachel continued. “I’m sorry for being so cryptic, Captain, but you must understand what I’m working under. I understand that this situation is extreme, but you have to trust me. If you don’t believe me, talk to Russell. He seems to have a grasp on what’s going on, and if he’s telling you to listen to me, then please believe him.”
Waters turned to Russell, eyeing him questioningly. “Just listen to the lady, Captain! She knows what she’s talking about!” Captain Waters motioned for Rachel to wait, and walked back to Russell. After a few seconds of whispering interspersed with glances in her direction, the Captain walked back over to her and let out a groan as he mumbled. “God dammit… the shit I put up with.”
“Alright, fine. Ms. Walsh, load your gear up in the truck. Roche, Russell, load up. We’re getting out of here.” Captain Waters turned to Rachel, stopping her as she moved towards the truck. “Understand me on this, Ms. Walsh: I’ll help you, but you’d better give me more information to go on, otherwise I’ll throw your ass to the curb. Get me?”
Rachel pulled her arm away, staring down the captain. After a pause, she nodded.
“Understood.”
12:14 PM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
When Leonard finally reached the check-in point, he felt numb, both physically and mentally. Though he tried to avoid looking at the horrors that surrounded him, it was impossible. He lost count of how many times he vomited after the fourth or fifth episode, and soon he moved on to dry heaving. Remnants of bodies in cars, scattered on sidewalks and laid out in the street haunted him with every step. He could almost swear that their open mouths were calling to him, screaming at him in jealousy for the simple fact that he was alive and they were not. When he was near the check-in station, Leonard accidentally stepped on the leg of one of them, causing it to break with a loud crack. He jumped back in surprise, nearly falling over as he reeled back in revulsion and horror. The remnants of the city were a tomb, and he was walking through it.
Leonard found the check-in station half-collapsed from a nearby building that had toppled onto it. He shoved open the door and pushed his way past the debris that was piled up against it and threw his shoulder bag and the jugs of water up onto the small receptionist’s desk that was in the front hallway. Leonard sank down in the chair behind the desk, closing his eyes. He sat motionless for several moments, struggling to come to grips with what he had seen. There were so many people dead, and the destruction was so widespread. He grew nauseous at the thought, but it was becoming clear that it was true: I’m the only one left in the city. I’ve got to get out of here, off the island and to someplace else, someplace safe.
But where would be safe? Leonard pondered this for a moment, then a memory from fifteen years ago intruded on his thoughts. While Leonard had a stereotypical New York accent and had lived in the city for most of his adult life, he wasn’t born anywhere close to NYC, or to New York for that matter. His parents had been from the South, only living as far north as South Carolina, and that was only after they had retired. They never understood Leonard’s stubborn commitment to his job in the North “with them yanks” as they often said, but they loved him nonetheless. The last time Leonard had seen them was fifteen years ago, the night before they passed away.
At the time, Leonard had to nearly strangle his supervisor to get the time off, but it was worth it to see his parents one last time. They had driven to the hospital two days before he arrived, complaining of flu-like symptoms. Self-sufficient and independent to the end, they had waited too long to seek medical attention, their frail and aged bodies succumbing to the virus despite doctors’ attempts to help. Both had been on ventilators when Leonard arrived, his face still greasy from pulling an all-nighter when he got a call from the hospital at three in the morning.
Unable to find, much less afford, a plane ticket on such short notice, Leonard drove down to the hospital that night, arriving late the next day. He planted himself in a chair between their two hospital beds, holding their hands the rest of the day and into the night, telling jokes, listening to stories, laughing and crying with them. Leonard’s father was the first to slip away, his hand growing limp as Leonard was in the middle of a story about his work. His mother smiled at him as she squeezed his hand, tears streaming down his face. “It’s time, son. Don’t worry. I’ll see you again.” With those words, she slipped away, too, just moments after her husband.
After dealing with the hospital paperwork, Leonard drove out to his parent’s house in a nearby quiet suburb. He spent the rest of the day and night drinking and reminiscing and eventually fell asleep on their couch. He spent the next day throwing out perishables, preparing the house for long storage and talking to the neighbors. He wasn’t ready to sell the house yet and the only bills required were water, power and the yearly property tax. Leonard had planned to sell it eventually, but with the costs of keeping it being so low, he never got around to it. He made deals with the neighbors to keep up with maintenance and every year he would take his vacation at the house where he spent most of his time sitting on the back porch, drinking scotch and reading a book.
Leonard snapped back to reality. He didn’t know if the destruction in Manhattan was present elsewhere in the country, but given the lack of people in the midst of the devastation, he suspected that this wasn’t the only place that had been bombed. Regardless, the house in South Carolina was the only place he had to go now that the city was gone. Better get moving. It’s a long way home.
12:01 PM, March 29, 2038
Nancy Sims
As Nan
cy turned the key in the ignition, the loud diesel engine roared to life, filling the barn with a noise that she could only describe as heavenly. She hopped back out of the truck, making sure the emergency brake was engaged, then slid the barn door open the rest of the way. She ran back into the house and searched through the kitchen and grinned when she found a thermos. Finally! Things are starting to work out! Nancy filled the thermos with water from the sink and grabbed some apples from a bowl on the counter, along with a box of cereal.
She was about to run back out to the truck when she stopped and went back into the kitchen. She took the note off of the refrigerator and grabbed a pen off the counter. At the bottom of the page she drew a line and wrote underneath it.
Kind Homeowners – I’m terribly sorry for intruding on your home. I wrecked my car down the road and I can’t get in contact with anyone here. I borrowed your truck and some food and am heading to Kansas City. As soon as I can find help I will bring your truck back and repay you. – Nancy Sims
Nancy draped the note over the empty pie plate and set it in the middle of the kitchen table. She grabbed her food and water and went back out to the truck, idling in the barn. She climbed in and set the food and water in the passenger seat, then closed the door. Nancy popped the truck into gear, letting it move forward slowly, getting a feel for it. She hadn’t driven a car with a manual transmission in years, but the muscle memory came back in an instant, guiding her hands and feet as she pulled out of the barn and drove between the cows in the yard.
Nancy glanced at the house in the rearview mirror as she drove along the dirt driveway out to the highway. Thank you, whoever and wherever you are, she thought. She pulled onto the highway and checked the fuel gauge: nearly full and more than enough to get into Kansas City. From there, she didn’t know what she’d do, but this was a start, at least.
As Nancy drove, she found the highway relatively abandoned, with only a few cars to dodge. She slowed next to each vehicle, looking in the windows for signs of life, growing more puzzled with each empty vehicle that she found. A few hours later, she approached the outskirts of Kansas City and slowed her car to a halt at the edge of a small bridge. The bridge had been destroyed, but that was the least of her worries. Ahead of her, past the bridge, she could finally see the remnants of the city that had been obscured by smoke and dust for so long.
The city itself was half covered in a thick black cloud that hung low over what was left of the buildings, fueled by the fires that still burned hot in the city. Enormous flames and occasional fireballs erupted from chemical factories at the edge of the city, illuminating the overturned cars, buildings that were blown apart and skyscrapers that had been toppled sideways like dominos.
Nancy sat still in the truck for several moments, silently watching the fire and the smoke. Now what? She wasn’t sure what to do or where to go now. Heading back to the farmhouse seemed pointless and Kansas City itself looked worse than a warzone.
Nancy shook her head gently, blinking several times. She put her arm around the passenger seat and craned her head, looking out the back window as she backed the truck up and turned it around. A few miles back she saw a sign for an overpass that looped around the city. Might as well take that and see where it goes. Maybe I can get to the other side of the city or something. Nancy stared straight ahead as she pulled onto the onramp, driving nearly on autopilot. She still felt numb from what she had seen.
6:47 AM, March 30, 2038
Marcus Warden
Although Marcus had gotten a few hours of sleep before his nightmare, when the sun cracked over the mountains the next morning, he felt like he hadn’t slept in days. The entire night had been a nightmare of its own. He was jumping at every rustle in the undergrowth and feeling his heart race like he had been running in a marathon every time the wind made a tree branch move.
Still exceptionally nervous, Marcus ate a quick breakfast of fruit pies and a sports drink, then packed up his bedroll and got ready to head into the mountains. While the Appalachian mountain range wasn’t anywhere near the height or intensity of, say, the Rockies, it was still formidable and would take him quite a while to cross.
Marcus checked his map as he began walking, heading south along the edge of the trees until he came to the service road that led across the mountains. It was a dirt road with traces of gravel, most of which had been washed away over the years since it was brought in. A laughably old and broken-down wooden gate stood as the only barrier to entrance to the service road, and was easily pushed aside. Signs stating “No Trespassing” and warning of federal penalties were nailed to the gate, though they looked to be decades newer than the gate itself.
Marcus chuckled at the signs. “Bring it on… I’d welcome a prison cell at this point.”
Side-stepping the gate, Marcus began his trek up the service road. Though old, it was more than passable, and it looked well-maintained. Undergrowth on the road itself was minimal, and even the trees were trimmed, keeping the branches high enough that vehicles could pass easily under them. The path was cool, as well, and well-shaded on all sides by the trees, which was helpful considering the steepness of the road.
Instead of zig-zagging back and forth like most mountain roads, the service road was nearly straight. The only turns in it were when it was absolutely necessary, such as when it went through a particularly steep or rocky area. Travel time was reduced with this kind of a setup, as long as you were able to handle the steepness of the terrain. Though Marcus was in excellent shape, he found himself stopping every quarter hour to rest for a few minutes before continuing.
After a few hours of hiking, Marcus reached a point on the service road where it widened, presumably to allow vehicles to pass each other or to pull over. The flattened area made an excellent resting point, so he decided to stop for lunch and a longer break. The hike, though steep and challenging, was peaceful, and Marcus found himself much more relaxed than he had been at the start. He still kept his machete close at hand, though, going so far as to carry it in one hand instead of letting it hang from his belt.
Marcus sipped on more of the lukewarm sports drink, making a sour face at how it tasted. He was tempted to pour it out and open a bottle of water, but he had to conserve food and water until he got over the mountain and into the next town to find more supplies. While he had far more than enough to get there, he didn’t want to risk wasting a single drop of food or drink under the current circumstances.
From the resting place, Marcus had a clear view of the valley below, including where he had camped the night before. He scanned the valley, watching for any signs of the creature that he had spotted before. While Marcus was on the alert for any sign of it, he was nonetheless shocked when he caught sight of a silver flash near the tree line at the base of the mountain. He jumped up in surprise, dropping his drink on the ground as he tried desperately to catch sight of the flash again.
Panic was etched on Marcus’s face as he squinted, looking, until he finally caught sight of it again: a silver glint down in the area where he had camped. He quickly pulled out his binoculars and brought them up to his eyes, training them on the spot. He was much closer to the creature this time than last, and was able to make out a great many more details when he finally brought the beast into focus.
Marcus gasped involuntarily at the sight of the creature. While its back was turned to him as it hunched over, seemingly studying the ground, the shape of it was unmistakably human. Dried blood covered its back, interspersed with sections of silver that melded with the skin at odd angles, with strips of clothing hanging loosely from the creature.
Marcus thought back to the dream he had the night before. Each new detail he noticed on the creature brought forth the realization that it was nearly identical to what he had seen in his dream. After what felt like an hour of watching the creature through the binoculars, Marcus saw it stand up, the silver glinting as it reflected the rays of the sun. It began to turn around, its head still pointed at the ground, the head cock
ed at an odd – almost unnatural – angle.
Marcus didn’t wait any longer to see if it would look up at him. He nearly fell to the ground, crawling with his face in the dirt to the nearest embankment. He pulled himself up into the tree line, managing to stick his binoculars back in a side pocket of his backpack as he did so. Once he was several feet into the trees, he pushed himself to his knees, crouching in the leaves and foliage. He could still make out the silver reflection from here, but he was well-hidden in the trees, so he hoped that the creature wouldn’t be able to see him.
Surely it can’t see me… it’s not tracking me, is it? Gotta move, and fast.
Marcus crouched over as he half-jogged through the woods, winding his way up the mountain towards the service road, trying to keep himself as far out of sight as possible. If the creature was somehow following him, he had no choice but to keep moving. Even from a distance and viewed through binoculars, he could see the muscles on the creature, and the expression on its face indicated that it would use those muscles to inflict serious pain on whatever was in its path.
1:08 PM, March 27, 2038
Leonard McComb
Leonard exited the check-in station, trying to decide his next move to get off the island. Based on where he was, he had two options that had any chance of working. The first was to head east towards the Brooklyn Bridge and hope that it was still standing. The other would be to try and cross into New Jersey, directly across from where he was, near the marina, using a boat or the wreckage from one. Leonard glanced behind him towards the west side of the island and shook his head.
