by Amy Cross
“Why would there be random gas sitting around at an abandoned hospital?” she asks finally. “That'd be a miracle. We're going to have to walk away from this place.”
“It's your fault we're here in the first place,” I point out angrily. “If you hadn't insisted on following that kid, we'd be almost in Boston by now. We certainly wouldn't have ended up with a damaged truck.”
“If you'd driven better, the underside wouldn't have -”
“Are you sure you didn't sabotage it?” I ask suddenly, surprising myself a little. I've been thinking about that possibility for a few hours, of course, but I hadn't intended to blurt it out. I feel like I've crossed a line.
“Why the hell would I sabotage your truck?” she asks, her eyes wide with shock.
“To stop us getting to Boston,” I continue, figuring that I'm on a roll now. “Or to delay us, at least, so that maybe you don't have to find out what happened to your father.”
“I'd never do anything like that,” she replies. “How could you think that?”
“I don't actually know you at all,” I point out. “Maybe you're scared. Maybe you can't face the truth. Maybe you don't care about other people, you only care about yourself. Hell, maybe you're a fucking psycho and you were one before this started too! Maybe you're insane!”
I know that was way too harsh, but I can't take it back, not now.
“Maybe you're a psychopath,” she says finally, her voice tense with anger. I think I've really offended her. “We don't know one another at all. It's literally been no more than twenty-four hours since we met, and I for one can't wait to get away from you.”
“Suits me,” I tell her.
“I don't care what you think,” she replies. “I want the part back from my car, the part you put in your truck, and then tomorrow I'm out of here.”
“Why would I give that part back to you?” I ask incredulously. “You don't even know how to use it!”
“Then I'll take it back myself!”
“You don't know what it looks like!”
“I guess I'll take the only part that's not covered in rust and dirt, then!” she yells, before sighing and leaning closer to the fire. “We can't waste energy on fighting,” she continues after a moment. “I'll be out of your hair tomorrow. Then you won't have to worry that I might sabotage anything.”
“Whatever,” I reply, before getting to my feet and stepping back over to the doorway. “I'm not going to stand around here arguing all night. I'm going back out there to see if I can find anything.”
“It's pitch-black!”
“I'll manage. There's moonlight.”
***
But not much moonlight.
As I pick my way along yet another dark corridor, I can't help thinking that this is a waste of time. I mean, sure, there could well be some useful stuff still kicking around at this hospital, but I might walk right past it and never even notice. I guess the real reason I'm still searching is that I can't stand to sit around all night with that Elizabeth girl. She's the reason we're here, and I'm starting to really dislike her. In fact, I'm starting to think that maybe she really is some kind of psycho. Maybe everyone hated her back in the old days, too.
“One mistake,” George told me a few months ago. “That's all it takes, and you're dead. Before, you could recover from a mistake. Now even the smallest screw-up can be fatal. Remember that.”
I can't help wondering whether I've finally made that fatal screw-up. After all, no-one's coming to rescue us, and I'm genuinely not sure we can walk out of here and find food or water. I've already experienced more than my fair share of miracles over the past hundred days, and I'm pretty sure I'm not due any more. Maybe, from the moment I agreed to drive here and check out the hospital, I've basically been doomed.
If Elizabeth turns out to have sabotaged the truck, I swear I'll -
Suddenly I hear a bumping sound nearby, and I turn to look back along the corridor. I can't really see anything at all in the darkness, but I know I heard that noise. Maybe three or four months ago I'd have doubted myself, but now I know that I need to be careful.
“Elizabeth?” I say cautiously. “No-Name?”
I wait.
This corridor is so dark, I could be almost face-to-face with someone and I might not even realize. Then again, given the current lack of technology and power, I guess the playing field is leveled. Unless those dumb zombies have somehow developed night-vision, which would be just my luck.
I pause, before taking a step back and, in the process, bumping against the wall.
Once I'm satisfied that there seems to be no immediate danger, I turn and start feeling my way along the corridor, running my hands against the wall until finally I reach a corner. To my relief, the next corridor has a row of dusty old windows on one side, allowing moonlight to come streaming through and pick out the rubble on the floor. I hurry over to the first patch of moonlight, then the second, and finally I turn and look back to make sure that nobody's following me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I see that I'm alone.
Okay, so maybe that bumping sound really was just some random noise. I've got to admit, I can be a little jumpy these days.
Turning, I start making my way cautiously along this next corridor. I try the first door I find, but all I discover on the other side is another dark room. Maybe this place would be interesting to explore during daylight hours, when I'd be able to see a few things, but right now this is a pointless endeavor. Even as I make my way along the corridor, I'm unable to shake the feeling that I'm just wasting both time and energy, and finally I stop at another window as I realize that I should just find my way back to Elizabeth and shelter next to the fire until dawn.
That would definitely be the sensible move.
I turn to go back the way I just came, but then I stop as I see something moving outside.
Looking out through the window, I spot a figure far below, hurrying across the grass. And then, to my horror, I see that the figure is climbing into my truck.
“Hey!” I shout, before starting to bang against the window. “Hey, you! Stop!”
I watch as the figure shuts the door, and then slowly the truck starts rolling down the hill back toward the main road.
“Hey!” I yell, but I know the person won't be able to hear me.
Turning, I start racing along the corridor, desperate to get down there before my truck disappears for good.
Elizabeth
“Hey! Stop!”
“What's wrong?” I shout, as I reach the doorway and look out into the dark corridor.
“Stop! Thief!”
It's definitely Thomas, but he sounds far away. A moment later I hear a distant clanging sound, followed by footsteps, and I realize that he's running through the building. I have no idea what's happening, but he sounds absolutely panicked so I make my way along the corridor until I reach the landing around around the top of the stairs, and then I hurry down to the reception area.
“Where are you going?” I yell as I see Thomas rushing frantically toward the hospital's main door.
He doesn't respond; instead, he pulls the door open and races outside, leaving me to hurry after him. By the time I get to the top of the front steps, he's already running over toward the tree-line. To my surprise, I see that his truck has moved; whereas before it was parked close to the steps, now it's tilted at an angle near the trees, as if it's gone into a slight ditch.
I hear him shouting some more as he reaches the truck, and then I watch as he pulls open one of the doors and climbs inside.
I wait, and after a couple of minutes he clambers back out and steps back to look at the damage.
“What happened?” I ask, hurrying down the steps and going over to join him. “Did it roll down?”
“She took it!” he snaps, turning to me. “I saw her from the window! That kid was messing around with my truck!”
“Why would she -”
“Look at it!” he continues angrily. “It didn
't just decide to roll down there by itself!”
“Maybe you left something in the wrong position,” I reply, although I don't really know enough about trucks to be more specific. “This driveway's pretty steep.”
“I saw her!” he continues.
“Are you sure it was her?”
“I think so. I definitely saw someone. I mean, who else could it possibly have been?”
“Then what would she gain from this?” I ask.
“What would she gain from any of it?” he replies. “It's like she led us here, and now she's trying to trap us! She probably thought getting rid of the gas would do it. Then when she heard me saying I'd find some more from somewhere, she decided to try something else.” He pauses for a moment. “Maybe that means she knows that there is some more gas around the place.”
“Maybe you're being a little -”
“There's no way I'm sticking around,” he adds. “I'm going to get my truck out of that ditch!”
“And then what? You still don't have any gas!”
“I'll find some!”
“But -”
“I'll find some!” he shouts, before turning and storming back toward the building. “By the time the sun comes up, we're going to be out of here! And as soon as we get to anywhere at all, I'm leaving you there!”
“That's assuming I even want to get in your stupid truck in the first place!” I yell. “Maybe I'll just walk away.”
“You've only got one foot! What are you gonna do, hop to Boston?”
“Screw you!” I shout.
He says something, but I'm not quite able to make out any of the words. I'm sure it's something stupid and petty.
I want to tell him that he's crazy, and that he's over-reacting, but he's already through the doorway and I'm left standing all alone outside. I turn and look at the truck, and for a moment I can't help thinking that Thomas might have a point. It's almost as if we're being encouraged to stay in this place, and I've got to admit that I wouldn't mind getting away. I walk over to the truck and – in the moonlight – I'm just about able to see that its front section is quite deep in the ditch.
I really don't see how we're going to get the truck out. In fact -
Suddenly a hand clamps tight over my mouth from behind, pulling me back as two more hands grab my shoulders.
Thomas
This place is a dump.
Now that the sun has begun to rise, I can see that very little has been left behind. I'm standing in an outhouse beyond the far end of the building. It looks like this was some kind of storage unit, with plenty of shelves, but it was long ago stripped bare of anything useful. Deep down, I'm starting to realize that all my earlier hopes were wildly optimistic, and that there probably isn't going to be some kind of miraculous stash of gas waiting to be discovered.
“Great,” I mutter, as I turn and step out of the shed.
The sun is streaming through the trees now and catching the remaining glass in the hospital's windows. At least I can see better now, but when I look up at the windows I see no sign of the little girl watching me. I can't shake the feeling, however, that she's somewhere nearby, that she's watching us and maybe even laughing at us. I'm not going to let her keep us here, however.
If we stay, we die. So we're going to have to walk to safety.
***
“Elizabeth! Come on, we need to get going!”
Standing in the corridor outside the room we used last night, I wait to hear Elizabeth calling back to me. After I started searching the building in the night, I didn't see Elizabeth again but I assumed she'd just come back here to shelter next to the fire. Instead, the fire looks to have gone cold several hours ago, and I'm starting to wonder where Elizabeth might have gone.
Maybe she's still searching for that little girl.
“This is ridiculous,” I say with a sigh, struggling to keep from losing my temper.
Storming away from the room, I head to the nearest window and look outside. I can't see the truck from here, because I'm on the wrong side of the building, but I don't see any sign of Elizabeth. I'm sure she's out there doing something stupid, and probably highly annoying, but I also know that I can't just leave without her. I need to find her, and then I swear I'm going to carry her out of this place if that's what's necessary.
I hurry down the stairs to the reception area and then I go out to the front of the building. There's still no sign of Elizabeth and the truck remains in the ditch. Maybe last night, when I was filled with anger, I had some crazy notion that I'd be able to pull the truck out; now, looking at the scene in the cold light of day, I know that I don't have a chance. The truck's entire front end is pitched downward by several meters, resulting in the rear wheels having lifted way up off the ground. Besides, even if I found some way to pull the truck out, there's still the small matter of a lack of gas.
We're going to have to walk out of here.
***
“Elizabeth!” I call out, before stopping in yet another stairwell and waiting for her to respond. “Come on! It's time to go!”
All I hear in return is silence.
I've been searching for a few hours now, and there's no sign of her anywhere.
***
“Elizabeth!”
I'm in a long, high-ceilinged room that looks like it used to be some kind of mess hall, or maybe a room for the patients to socialize.
There's still no sign of Elizabeth, however.
“Elizabeth!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth once more. “Where are you?”
***
“Elizabeth!”
Stopping outside the rear of the building, I look up at the broken windows of the upper floors. I'm starting to think that there's no way she wouldn't be able to hear me, which realistically leaves two possibilities.
Either she's unconscious, maybe from a fall, or she left without me. The latter option feels unlikely; then again, I don't really know the girl. Encounters can be fleeting these days. Maybe she just decided she'd be better off alone.
I turn to keep walking, but then I feel something crunch under my right foot. Stepping back, I look down and see to my disgust that I've stepped on a dead bird. I managed to completely crush its chest, causing blood to burst out across its face, and I feel a shudder pass through my chest as I remember the sensation. Then again, I'm pretty sure it was dead already.
Again, I turn to head around to the next side of the building, but at the last second I spot another dead bird on the ground, and then another.
And another.
And more.
In fact, as I look around, I realize that there must be at least a couple of hundred dead birds scattered all around this part of the forest's edge. Now, I might not know much about birds, or about wildlife and nature in general, but I didn't think birds were prone to mass suicides.
Are they sick?
Can animals get infected with the disease, like humans?
I pause for a moment, before figuring that I can't afford to take any risks.
Carefully stepping around the dead birds, I make my way to the next side of the building. Here, at least, there are far fewer little corpses, so I don't have to watch my step quite so much as I keep walking and look up at yet more broken windows.
“Elizabeth!” I shout. “It's time to go!”
***
She's not here.
I swear, I've searched every inch of this old hospital, every abandoned room, and there's no sign of Elizabeth. Sure, she could be hiding from me, but that seems unlikely.
Which means she's gone.
I mean, sure, she said she didn't want to travel much further with me, but I'm still surprised she'd actually pack up and leave without even saying anything. Then again, I guess that's just the kind of thing that some psycho would do, so I shouldn't be too surprised. Overall, I'm probably lucky she's gone; if she'd stuck around for much longer, I might have ended up killing her myself.
Stopping in the large reception area, I take one mor
e look around, but I know there's no point going on another tour of the entire facility. Besides, it must be getting quite late in the afternoon now, and if I have to walk away from this place then I at least want to clear the forest and reach the road before the sun goes down.
I can't afford to waste any more time here.
Heading over to the nearest counter, I look down and see where Elizabeth wrote the word 'Sorry' in a patch of dust. I pause, before using a fingertip to add the words 'Me Too' underneath. I keep telling myself that Elizabeth is long gone, although deep down I can't shake the feeling that this feels like an odd thing for her to do.
But I've wasted enough time here.
“See you around!” I call out, just in case she can hear me, and then I turn and walk out of the building.
Elizabeth
My whole body starts shaking violently, but my wrists and ankles are being held down firmly.
“There,” a voice whispers nearby. “It's starting.”
Thomas
Trudging along the road that winds down from the hospital, I still can't shake the feeling that something's wrong here.
I glance over my shoulder, and I can just about make out the hospital in the distance, although for the most part the building is hidden by trees. I've been walking for a couple of hours now, and I must be getting close to the intersection with the main road, but I've still got this nagging worry that I'm missing some part of the story.
After all, Elizabeth was so desperate to go after the little girl. Why would she then turn around and leave without even saying anything? I was so sure that she's simply decided to leave, but now that certainty is starting to fade.
Forcing myself to focus on the path again, I realize I can finally see the intersection up ahead. I pick up the pace a little, but at the same time I'm once again starting to think about Elizabeth. I tell myself I can always come back on check on her some time, once I've reached Boston and found another vehicle. In fact, that's definitely something I want to do, just to make sure that she's okay.
