by Cross, Amy
"Nasty," says the other guy, who's still at the back door. "That felt weird. I've never had a knife stuck in my brain before. I could feel the cold steel digging right down until it hit the base and scraped against the inside of the skull, and then the body died. Wow. I swear, that's one of the freakiest deaths I've had yet. Even worse than the fire incident." He starts shaking the door again. "So come on, kid. You can't keep this up forever. Put down the knives, open the door, and face facts. There's too many of me. I can die billions of times, but you only need to die once. At this very moment, I'm bringing reinforcements from the rest of the town. You can't get away, so open the door and let's find a nice, painless way for you to shuffle off."
I stand in silence, my heart pounding, as I wait for him to make his next move. I don't really understand what the hell he's going on about, but it seems like the same mind is inhabiting all these different bodies.
"Okay," he says eventually. "I see how this is gonna be. You're gonna be a little harder to kill than some of the others. Fine. Let's do it your way, but I hope you've got a lot of knives ready, 'cause we're coming in and we're not gonna be -" Suddenly he stops talking, and I hear two loud thuds.
Hearing a sound over at the window, I turn and get ready to attack again, but at the last moment I see that this time it's Clyde who's clambering through.
"Where the hell have you been?" I shout.
"There's things out there!" he replies, struggling to his feet. There's a knife in his hand. "They're headed this way. I just took two of 'em down at the back door, but there's a load more all over town."
"We need to get out of here," I tell him. "Help me move Joe!"
"And go where?" Clyde shouts, clearly starting to panic. "The truck doesn't work, so where the hell are we gonna go?" He pauses for a moment. "The only thing we can do is run. We have to get as many supplies as possible and we have to run, and we have to hope these things can't chase after us."
"Joe can't run," I point out.
"Then Joe ain't coming," Clyde replies, hurrying over to the window just as two more of the creatures appear. Stepping back, he turns to me. "I came back to get you because I thought you might be useful," he says, as the creatures start trying to climb through the window. "But I'm not risking my life just to carry your fucking brother anywhere." Grabbing one of the knives from the table, he heads over to the window and pushes the blade into the first creature's head, before pulling it out and doing the same to the second. Once he's pushed them both back, he turns to me. "There's no time to waste, kid. You coming, or not?"
"I can't leave Joe," I reply.
"Fine," he says, turning and starting to climb out the window. "You'll -" He stops suddenly, and then he moves back inside as another creature appears outside. "There's hundreds of 'em!" he shouts. "They're everywhere!"
Hearing a banging sound from the back door, I run to the other window and look out to see a handful of the creatures making their way toward the building, walking obliviously past the corpses of the two that Clyde killed a moment ago.
"Now what?" Clyde shouts.
Day Eight
Chapter One
Manhattan
"I know you're awake," Bob says calmly. "I can tell from the way you're breathing. When you were unconscious, you were breathing kinda slow and steady, but about a minute ago it changed and became faster. So that's how I know. I've studied this kind of thing. You're not fooling anyone, so you might as well just stop the charade and look at me." Silence for a moment. "Look at me, Elizabeth."
Slowly, I raise my head, open my heavy eyes, and stare straight at Bob.
"That's better," he says with a smile. "That's a lot better."
We're in a room at the back of the building, and I'm tied to the same chair where Bob previously held Mallory. Thick ropes are wrapped tightly around my body, and there's a gag over my mouth. My heart is racing so fast, it's like a continual, pounding patter in my chest, and I feel like I'm about to pass out at any moment.
"One week," Bob says, turning and walking across the darkened room. The only light comes from a series of small windows at the top of the far wall. "Did you know that? It's been exactly one week since all of this started to happen. Well, almost. Today is day eight. One week ago, was day one." He checks his watch. "It's about two hours until the exact one week anniversary, which I propose to mark with a glass of scotch. Do you remember what you were doing this time a week ago, Elizabeth? I guess you were probably getting on with your dull, mundane little life. Doing all those things that turned out not to be too important in the grand scheme of things. Hanging out with friends who're probably dead now."
Staring at him, I realize he's gloating. He actually seems to be happy with how things are right now.
"Do you know what I was doing a week ago?" he asks. "I was just getting on with things. Being ignored, although that didn't matter to me too much. I didn't mind. I was busy, you see. I was preparing for a change in the world. I saw it coming. I looked at the world and I saw that we were headed for disaster. Sure, I didn't know what form that disaster was gonna take, but I could see it coming, clear as day. A virus, or a computer fuck-up, or something nuclear. I knew we were gonna screw ourselves, and finally it happened. But while most of you people were stunned and unprepared, I was ready. I'd stock-piled. I'd thought ahead. So you see, suddenly it became very clear that I'm not a loser after all. I win. I sacrificed certain things in the old world in order to be ready for the new." He smiles. "Betcha feeling just a little pissed off right now, aren't you?"
I take a deep breath, trying to work out how I'm going to get free. All I can think is that I need Henry to come and find me, but I have no idea where my brother is right now, and I doubt Bob's gonna allow him to just set me free.
"Huh," Bob continues, tapping at the face of his watch. "Do you ever think about things like this? I mean, a watch is a simple thing, but eventually the battery's gonna stop, and then it won't work. It'll just be a chunk of dead cogs and stuff. All across America, maybe even the world, clocks are eventually going to stop. We're literally running out of time." He pauses. "You know what'd be good? One of those watches you wind up. They don't need batteries. That's something I should have got, before the world turned to shit. Well, I guess everyone has to overlook something. No-one's perfect."
Moving my arms a little, I find that the ropes are tied far too tight for me to be able to wriggle free. Even if Bob left me alone for an entire day, I don't think I could get away.
"I'm rambling," he says after a moment. "I doubt you care much about my ruminations on time, that sort of thing. We should probably just get straight down to business." He walks over to a nearby bench, from which he takes a hammer. "Your decision to free that Mallory girl has been weighing on my mind," he says eventually, carrying the hammer back over to me. "It's been bothering me. It was a supremely disloyal act, Elizabeth. It was a sign that you don't understand whose side you're on, and that you can't be trusted." Leaning down, he places the head of the hammer against my left kneecap and gives it a gentle tap. "If I kneecapped you," he continues, "you wouldn't be able to betray me again, would you?" He continues to tap my kneecap with the hammer, using a little more force each time. As he starts to smile, the tapping reaches the point where it starts to hurt; just as I'm getting worried, he abruptly stops and carries the hammer back over to the bench.
"Did you think I was gonna do it?" he calls back to me, as he sorts through some of the other tools. "Did you think I was gonna smash your kneecaps into tiny pieces?" He pauses. "I considers it. I'm still considering it. The truth is, I can see a benefit to killing you, but also a benefit to keeping you alive for a little torture. You see, I'd never tortured anyone before Mallory showed up, and that didn't last long, so you're really my first chance. I don't want to torture anyone, but I feel I should get to know how it's done, in case I have to do it later. I should make sure I know which parts of the body to attack first, to cause maximum pain." He picks up a hacksaw.
Still struggling to get my arms free, I watch as Bob continues to examine his tools. I'm starting to get more and more worried: this guy is just crazy enough to step over the line. I saw what he did to Mallory, and with me he's got the added incentive of some kind of personal vendetta.
"The thought of hurting someone is... horrifying," he continues. "The thought of cutting someone's foot off, for example, while they're screaming for mercy. That's just awful. But I feel as if this empathy is a weakness. Maybe if I do something like that, I'll be able to streamline my reactions. Numb myself, you know? Become a good soldier, because God knows, right now I'm not a good soldier. I try my best, but I still have these weaknesses." He brings the hacksaw over and holds the rusty blade against my ankle. "What if I'm in a combat situation, and I pause before delivering the fatal blow? Just a fraction of a second could make all the difference. I need to make sure I don't flinch." He presses the blade harder against my skin. "I don't want to do it to you, of course, but maybe that's exactly why I should. Maybe my reluctance is the problem. If I were to torture you, really go at you, I might improve my ability to function as a warrior."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. There's got to be a way out of this; I just have to work out what to do next.
"Touch choices," Bob says, heading back over to the bench. "I'm gonna have to think long and hard about this, aren't I? I'm gonna have to decide what kind of person I want to be. I think I can change, if that's what's necessary. I can become the kind of man I want to be. After all those years of sitting around, being ignored, I can finally carve out a place for myself in the world."
I look over at the door. I figure Henry has to come back here at some point. I just need to wait it out until he finds me. I mean, sure, Henry's allowed himself to be seduced by Bob's offers of power, but he hasn't become a monster. When he sees his own sister tied up like this, about to be hurt, he's gonna act. He won't let Bob do this to me.
"I like the world like this," Bob says eventually. "I'm sorry, but I do. I like the fact that most of everyone has dropped dead. I like the fact that suddenly we've got a little space and time. I like the fact that a man can make his own decisions and his own choices, rather than relying on other people." He picks up a gun from the bench. "I like the fact that we're all in charge of our own destiny." He puts down the gun and picks up a large hunting knife. "I like the fact that the weak are gonna die off and the strong are gonna show their worth. That's how it should be. The problem with the old world was that we'd stopped punishing the weak and the stupid. You could be a fucking idiot, but you'd still be carried along by society. We needed something like this, to prune out the morons. Now there'll just be the cream of the crop left, and we can start to improve the stock."
He puts the knife down, and then he comes back over to me. Kneeling in front of me, he places his hands on my knees.
"Despite our differences, Elizabeth, I can see that you're a smart girl. That's why I think you can be rehabilitated. You can be brought back into the fold, and then we can see about using your smarts for good." He gently moves my knees apart. "We have a duty to restock the human race, Elizabeth. I've been reading up on childbirth. That library of Mr. Blake's was pretty useful in the end. Ultimately, I think what we're gonna have to do is we're gonna have to make sure you pop out some babies, so we can start a new generation. Obviously you can't have your own brother be the father, so I think that leaves only one option. I'm sure you'll get used to it eventually. It's not so bad. I know I'm not your type. You probably like cool young dudes with spiky hair and pierced what-nots. But that was when sex was for pleasure. Now it's a duty to the whole human race, or what's left of it."
Standing up, he pats his large belly.
"I'm hungry," he says, before walking around me, grabbing the back of the chair, and turning me around until I'm facing the other side of the room. A few meters away, there's a series of tables covered in sheets.
"You hungry?" he asks, walking over to another bench and grabbing a carving knife. He checks the sharpness of the blade. "Time for steak," he adds, before heading to the first table and reaching out, ready to pull the sheet away. "The human must change," he says after a moment, staring down at the table. "Things that seemed abominable and wrong before, must now be accepted. Again, it's a matter of perseverance; you do something enough times, it stops being bad. You start to tolerate it, and then eventually you might even get to the point where you enjoy it. You know what I'm saying. And frankly, I'd rather eat good, healthy meat than pre-packaged shit any day. At least there's no tiny surveillance devices in fresh meat, right?" Smiling, he pulls the sheet away to reveal a large, pink, bloody chunk of meat.
It takes me a moment to realize what I'm staring at. My first assumption is that it's a pig, that Bob has somehow managed to get hold of an actual pig, or maybe a cow carcass, and he's been cutting it up for food. After a moment, however, the kinda abstract shape starts to become more recognizable: I see large, dark red slices where the arms and legs have been removed, leaving just a torso, and the head is also missing. There are a couple of nipples on top, though, and at the other end there's a penis. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm wrong, that this isn't what I think it is, but my eyes widen as I realize that it's a human body.
"You remember Mr. Blake, don't you?" Bob says, staring down at the corpse. "I couldn't let him leave us. I couldn't let all that meat and nutrition go walking out the door. I've got pretty good at not wasting anything. Even the bones, I boil 'em down to make broth. I swear, not a part of this man has gone to waste, except a few bits like the guts, 'cause obviously there's basic hygiene to consider."
Unable to contain my panic, I start struggling to get free from the chair.
"Relax," Bob says with a grin, "you haven't personally eaten any of Mr. Blake. Not yet, anyway. Henry and I have had that pleasure." He walks over to the next table, pulls the sheet away, and reveals another torso, except this one is almost picked clean, with the rib cage showing. "This is the one you ate from when you had steak a few days ago. You remember Mrs. DeWitt from upstairs, right? She was old, of course, but her meat was surprisingly tender once I'd marinaded it properly." He pulls the final sheets away, to reveal another torso, this time with most of the meat left on its bones. "And that's old Albert Carling. I didn't want to waste him, either." He reaches down, pulls a piece of meat from Albert's bones, and pops it into his mouth.
As I try to get away from the chair, I accidentally tip myself over, landing hard against the concrete floor. Despite the gag over my mouth, I try to call out for help as Bob walks slowly over to me.
"A human body gives up some good meat," he says. "And you know what? It's not bad for us. Not at all. You ate meat from Mrs. DeWitt's body, Elizabeth, several times. If I'd told you it was human flesh, you'd have turned it down, but you accepted it, you even enjoyed it, because I told you it was normal cow meat. So, you see, most of this is about perception. You perceived it to be beef, and your brain let you enjoy it." He reaches down and pulls my chair back up until I'm sitting again. "This is the food chain now," he continues. "You turn it down, you starve. Don't let your old world fears and prejudices affect how you act in the new world, Elizabeth. Face the reality of the situation. It's really not so bad."
After checking his watch, he grabs the back of my chair and turns me back to face the other way.
"There," he says. "Maybe we'll save dinner until a bit later, huh? Now, I've got to go and check the perimeter, but you're gonna sit here and think about what I've said. Be smart, Elizabeth. This doesn't have to be painful or hard. Just accept that things have changed. Think about it. This time in a year, you could be the proud mother of the next generation of the human race, and..." He laughs. "Well, that's gonna happen, really, whether you like it or not. I'm not gonna jeopardize the future of humanity just 'cause you're a little weak-willed. But it'd be easier if you're onside for this stuff, yeah? Much easier, and much more pleasant. Hell, you might even start to enjoy yourself eventually.
What's the alternative? Live the rest of your life in misery?"
I watch as he heads over to the door.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, turning to glance back at me. "We'll get started."
Once he's gone, I sit and stare straight ahead. This room is so dark and so isolated, I feel like there's no way I'm ever going to escape. Behind me, those three dead bodies are still on display, waiting for Bob to carve more meat from the bones. After desperately struggling to get loose from the ropes for a few minutes, I start to realize that there's no way out. With the gag still over my mouth, I start calling out for help, hoping that someone - anyone - might eventually hear me.
Chapter Two
Oklahoma
"They still out there?" I ask, watching as Clyde stands by the window.
"What do you think?" he replies, turning to me. There's a haunted look on his face, as if he knows that we're screwed.
"What are they doing?"
"Same as they've been doing all night. Just, like, milling about." He pauses. "It's weird. It's like they're just mindlessly loitering. It's like they're waiting for something."
"They're waiting for him," I say, feeling a sense of panic rise through my body. I still haven't worked out exactly what's happening, but one thing's for certain: it's as if all these creatures have the same mind, as if that mind can experience things through all the creatures simultaneously. How that works, and how it happened, I don't know, but I've seen it with my own eyes: what one of the creatures experiences, they all experience, and they share one another's memories. Talking to one of them is like talking to all of them, which makes it especially weird that they seem, all at once, to have suddenly gone silent.
"Waiting for who?" Clyde asks.
"The guy who's behind it," I say, immediately regretting my choice of words. Damn it, I probably sound like some kind of paranoid idiot. "I mean, the person who..." My voice trails off as I try to think of a way to explain it properly. I haven't even managed to get it straight in my own head yet, so telling someone else about my theory is pretty difficult. "You haven't talked to any of them?" I ask eventually.
