by Cross, Amy
Realizing that he seems to be getting distracted by his own speech, I decide it's time to make a break for the garage. I still don't quite understand what Clyde means, but I can tell he's struggling to remain focused. It's as if his concentration is wandering, and he keeps getting distracted by something I can't see. Any second now, I'm going to run. The other creatures are staring at me, and they seem to have fallen still, as if Clyde's too caught up in himself to notice what's happening.
"Sorry," Clyde says eventually. "I'm having a conversation with some guy in Germany. I don't... You don't speak German, do you?"
"Me?"
He nods.
"No".
"Damn it," he continues. "I thought I'd planned ahead. I thought I'd prepared for every eventuality, but I forgot that there'd be a language issue. Hang on, let me just break his neck". He pauses, and finally he smiles. "There. Done".
"You're crazy," I say.
"Of course," he replies. "My growth over the past week has been exponential. No-one could go through this without losing their mind a little, at least temporarily. In a way, it's good that there are still some survivors to be killed. It gives me focus. A few of you turned out to have natural immunity, but that's only to be expected. I'll have fun mopping up the stragglers, and finally I'll be the only one here. The whole planet, just me. Perfection, really. I've got to admit, it was a crazy idea, and I wasn't at all sure it'd work. But here I am, inhabiting all these dead bodies. It's taking a little time to learn how to control so many bodies all at once. I guess each mind was supposed to control one body, and now look at me, controlling billions. But I'm getting there. Don't worry about that. Seeing the world from so many different vantage points, that's not something you can get used to very quickly. Right now, for example, I'm seeing the view from all over the world, all at once. Honestly, it's enough to drive someone crazy. The human mind isn't designed to cope with such an influx, but I'm learning to deal with it slowly. I'll get there eventually, but for now, I'm sorry if I seem a little crazy or a little scattered. I really must apologize for the slightly distracted manner in which I'm about to kill you -"
And that's when I do it. I turn and run.
Heading through to the next room, I slam the door shut and push a small table across the entrance. It's not going to hold him, though, and I look around for something else to use.
"Seriously?" Clyde calls out from the kitchen. "You think you can escape? I'm everywhere!"
At that moment, a nearby window smashes. Two more creatures start climbing through, and one of them grins as it looks over at me. "See?" the creature says, "you're really not gonna be able to -" He looks across the room, and for a moment he seems surprised. "You already got him on the truck?" he asks. "Clever boy. When did you do that?"
Not waiting to give him an answer, I turn and hurry through to the garage. Getting into the driver's seat, I slip the key into the ignition and find, to my relief, that the engine starts beautifully, first time. I pull the door shut and stare ahead at the garage door. The wheels spin for a moment before the truck shoots forward, smashing straight through the door and then lumbering down the driveway and out into the street. Looking back, I feel a moment's relief that Clyde doesn't seem to be following us, but then I look forward and see two of the creatures coming straight toward the truck.
Without a second thought, I turn the wheel and drive away, knocking one of the creatures down in the process. I feel a heavy bump as the wheels run straight over the creature, but I don't have time to even register what just happened: all I can think about is the fact that I have to get out of here as fast as possible, and that I have to get far, far away from Scottsville. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Joe's motionless body in the back of the truck. I want to stop and check that he's okay, but I can't risk being caught by Clyde or any of the other creatures.
"Joe!" I shout. "Are you okay back there?"
The truck bounces over a bump in the road, and I see Joe's body jolting around. I don't know whether he's still alive, but I can't afford to stop and check just yet.
As the truck speeds past the last building of Scottsville and I head out into the countryside, I realize that I've actually made it. I look at the rear-view mirror as Scottsville recedes into the distance. Whatever else happens, I have to keep away from towns from now on; they're too dangerous, and people like Clyde could be waiting around every corner. I just have to keep going and hope I can find some way to help Joe, otherwise I'll be completely alone out here. Even though I'm now well clear of the town, I tell myself that it's too early to relax just yet. I need to keep going, which means there's no time to stop and check on Joe. I guess, in a way, I'm delaying the moment where I check to see if he's still alive. But he has to be. He's my brother. He's Joe. He's the toughest bastard I ever met in my life, and he's not gonna let some gash in his chest be the end of him. I can trust him to stay alive on the back of the truck, just as he can trust me to get us to safety.
ELIZABETH
Manhattan
When I find Henry, I can see immediately that it's too late. He's still on the floor, in the middle of a pool of blood, and he's not moving. Pausing in the doorway, frozen in place, I feel my mind empty of all thoughts; I'm just here, cold and alone, staring at my brother's dead body.
"Henry?" I say eventually, not because I think there's any chance of him being alive, but because I feel like I have to at least try.
No answer.
The room feels so still and quiet, like a grave.
I want to turn and run, to get as far from here as possible, but I know I have to stay. I have to at least check to see if he's alive, for my own sake. Stepping into the room and walking around the puddle of blood, I look down at his face. He's so pale, probably due to all the blood he's lost, and his eyes are open, staring down at the floor. One of his arms is reaching out beyond the puddle, the hand open as if he was reaching for something when he died.
I walk around and kneel next to the hand, and finally I reach down and take it in mine. His skin's so cold, it's hard to believe it's real; it feels more like I'm holding the hand of some kind of waxwork. Sitting in stunned silence, feeling as if there's some kind of damn building up in my chest, preventing me from crying, I feel as if the whole world has stopped for a moment.
Suddenly I feel something. The slightest pressure from his hand, as if he's squeezing my fingers to let me know he's alive. I lean closer, and finally I notice a flicker in his eyes.
"Henry?" I say, shifting toward him, my knees soaking in the puddle of blood. "Henry, can you hear me?"
His eyes open for a moment, just slightly.
"Henry," I continue, "it's going to be okay, I..." I stare at him, and I realize it's not going to be okay at all. Reaching over, I put a finger against his neck to check his pulse. There's a very faint beating sensation, but it's clear that he's only got a few minutes to live. Not knowing what else to do, I lean down and kiss his cold forehead. "I love you," I say, squeezing his hand tight.
We sit like this for several minutes, and finally I force myself to check his pulse again. This time, there's nothing. I reach down and close his eyes. All I can hope now is that somehow, by some kind of miracle, he was aware of me in those final moments.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, kissing his forehead again. "I should have stayed. I should have found a way to..." My voice trails off, as I think back to all the chances I had to save him. Finally, tears start rolling down my cheeks as the full force of the moment hits me. My chest feels so tight and heavy, as if my whole body is going to burst, and I spend several minutes just sitting and sobbing, with my face against my brother's head.
Eventually, I look up and it hits me: I'm alone. I'm completely alone in New York, barring any sudden encounters with strangers. My family is gone, my friends are gone, and Mallory's group could be anywhere by now. Sitting back, with my knees soaked in Henry's blood, I try to work out what to do but, instead, my mind goes completely blank. It's as if I'm stranded and unable to
move, and everything around me has stopped.
I have to get out of here.
I've never been so clear about anything in my life: I have to get out of New York. I have to go after Mallory, I have to leave this place behind, I have to -
Suddenly there's a huge boom in the distance, and the entire building starts to shake. Plaster comes crashing down from the ceiling, but the boom ends and the building comes to a rest. My heart's racing. I don't know what that was, but it seemed like it was very, very far away and very, very big.
THOMAS
Oklahoma
As the truck races along the dusty, deserted road, there's a sudden boom in the distance. Everything starts to shake: the horizon, the road, everything. I struggle for a moment to bring the truck under control, and finally the back-end flicks out, sending us skidding sideways to a halt as the shaking stops.
"What the hell was that?" I say out loud, glancing back at Joe.
No answer. He's barely conscious.
"Joe?"
I pause. I know I should go and check on him, but... It still might not be safe. I'll wait a little longer.
"Hey there," says a voice nearby.
Turning, I see a guy standing next to the truck. He's pretty weird-looking, and kind of scruffy. Although he doesn't look sick, I immediately tense up, fearing the worst.
"Where'd you come from?" I ask, reaching down to make sure the door's locked.
"I'm just making my way somewhere new," he says with a smile.
I glance over my shoulder, in case there's anyone else around. I swear I didn't spot this guy, not until the truck stopped.
"Who's the guy in the back?" the man asks. "Is seems hurt".
"I'm taking him to get help," I say.
"Then I shouldn't hold you back any longer," the man says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large white feather. "This is for you".
I stare at him. The guy might not be sick, but I'm starting to think he's a bit strange in the head.
"Don't you want it?" he asks, frowning.
"Just leave it on the truck," I say cautiously.
Smiling, the guy places the white feather in the back of the truck, next to Joe.
"I'm not giving you a ride," I stammer. "There's no way -"
"I don't want a ride," he says, stepping back. "I'd rather walk". He pauses for a moment. " Shouldn't you get going? Your brother needs help".
Feeling kind of bad for leaving the guy by the side of the road, I put the truck back in gear and get us going again. I have no idea what caused that boom and the shaking, but right now I really don't want to stick around and find out. I glance in the rear-view mirror, but the guy already seems to have disappeared. Whoever he was, I don't need to get distracted right now. I just need to focus on the road ahead, and pray that there's a miracle around the next corner.
Epilogue
Two weeks ago
"You want another one?"
Looking up from his empty glass, Joseph finds himself face to face with the bartender.
"Uh... Yeah, sure," he replies. "Same again, or something similar. Whatever".
Seemingly unimpressed, the bartender grabs the glass and heads over to fill it with another whiskey.
Looking at his watch, Joseph does a few mental calculations and realizes that it's almost time. He's waited so long, and now the moment is about to arrive. It might be in a second, or a minute, or even an hour, but it's coming. It's coming today. The moment when all his plans come to fruition and the world finally learns what's coming; the moment when everyone dies.
"You want me to add that to your tab?" the bartender asks, bringing the drink back over.
"Yes, please," Joseph says, smiling. "Add it to my tab".
"Tab's getting pretty long," the barman grunts.
Joseph reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of notes, which he places in front of the barman with a satisfied smirk. "Take whatever I owe you. Add a tip, whatever you think's fair to compensate you for your extraordinary service".
Raising his eyebrows, the barman reaches out to take some cash, before pausing to clear his throat.
"Nasty cough you've got there," Joseph says. "Had it long?"
"Just came today," the barman replies, counting out his money. "Knowing my luck, I'm coming down with something. Don't worry, though. I'm washin' my hands plenty. You won't get nothing from me".
"I'm not worried," Joseph says, grinning as the barman heads over to the register.
Picking up his glass, Joseph pauses for a moment before taking a gulp of whiskey. He watches as the barman goes to grab some empty glasses from the other side of the room. Such a bland, dull little scene, and one that Joseph wouldn't normally notice; today, however, even the tiniest and most mundane of activities seems to carry a little extra poignancy, since everything is soon going to end. This barman, for example, will probably soon clean his last table, and serve his last drink.
"I'm closing in ten," the barman calls back to him.
"That's fine," Joseph says, finishing his drink and getting up from the stool. "I was thinking of heading home, anyway". He grabs the rest of his money and heads over to the door, pausing for a moment to glance back and watch as the barman suffers a brief coughing fit. "Get well soon," he says quietly, unable to stop smiling as he heads out into the cold night air.
