by Cross, Amy
The next morning, when I wake up, Pierce is gone.
Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff
I have already talked about Emma. She was a wonderful friend to me, and I often wonder what has happened to her now. But I haven't really talked about Pierce, mainly because I didn't know him so well. But Pierce was an important figure in my life and, despite what happened later, he was a good person. I have always been a good judge of character, and I remember very clearly my first meeting with Pierce. I was instantly put at ease, and that was a feeling that always stayed with me. No matter what he did, no matter how cruel he might have become, I always felt that at heart he was still a well-meaning soul who merely became corrupted.
Of course, that's not an opinion you'll hear many other people mention. Even today, long after his death, Pierce's name causes great anger and pain for many people. They focus on what he did, not who he was, and they do not consider the circumstances that led to such a tragedy. Perhaps, after all this time, people could open their minds and remember that Pierce was just a human being, with all the strengths and weaknesses that the rest of us have. If his weaknesses eventually overwhelmed him, that doesn't mean that he was a bad person, or that he is undeserving of our sympathies.
And that is all I have to say about Pierce.
Chapter Six
It takes me a couple of hours to catch up to Pierce. Having guessed that he'd have carried on heading to New York, I walk along the highway in the direction that I assume he's headed. Sure enough, after walking as fast as I can, I eventually spot a figure on the horizon ahead of me, and as I get closer I realize that it's definitely Pierce. Although I'm annoyed with him for not waiting for me, I decide not to call out to him, in case he runs off. I simply make sure I walk faster than him, and eventually I'm coming up right behind him.
“Morning,” I say.
He doesn't turn to greet me at all. “Morning,” he says coldly.
“So your plan was to just abandon me back there, right?” I ask.
He doesn't reply immediately, but when he does, his tone of voice is full of indignation. “If I wanted to abandon you, don't you think I'd have done a better job?” He casts a quick glance at me. “On the other hand, if I wanted to scare you and give you a hurry-up, I'd say I've been pretty successful”.
“I don't need you,” I say. “You realize that, right? I can walk wherever I want without you. Okay?”
“Do it,” he says. “I don't care”.
Looking ahead, I spot something black on the road, a little dot on the horizon. Ignoring it, I turn to Pierce. “I'm sorry you feel responsible for Holly's death -”
“I don't,” he interrupts. “It's not my fault a fucking jet liner crashed next to her”.
“Okay,” I say. “Just so long as you don't have any baggage about this”.
“No,” he says sarcastically, “of course I don't”. We walk a few more steps, then he turns, grabs my shoulders and starts shouting at me. “Look at us! Look where we are! We're in the middle of fucking nowhere”.
I pull away. I guess my parents were right about him all along. He's definitely a little weird, and he's clearly not the most stable person ever.
“I'm sorry,” he says, calming down. “But fuck, did you see what happened to her? Do you know what it felt like to slide that little piece of metal out of her brain?” He stares at me, waiting for me to say something. “Just as she started screaming, I felt the metal snag on something,” he says. “Like I caught something in her head. I fucking felt that”.
Right about now would be a good time to give him a hug, except I'm not sure I really want to get too close. So instead, I nod sympathetically and try to think of something comforting to say.
“What the fuck's that?” Pierce says, stopping and looking straight ahead.
I look at the road and see the black thing I noticed earlier, except this time it's clear that it's a human, collapsed on the ground.
“Let's just walk around him,” Pierce says, shifting his path to avoid the person.
“What if he's hurt?” I say as we get closer.
“The last thing he needs is us pair of amateur medics,” Pierce says.
As we come alongside the man, I stop. “We should check if he's okay”.
“You don't get it, do you?” says Pierce, stopping next to me. “It's every man for himself out here now. We don't have the time to help this guy. We don't have the means. It's all pot luck whether we make things better or worse for him”.
“So if you were in his position,” I say, “you'd want us to keep walking?”
“Of course I fucking wouldn't,” Pierce says, “but we can't keep doing stuff like this. We're not a fucking charity”.
I walk over to the man, who seems to have fallen in a crumpled heap. He's not moving, and to be honest I'm not even sure if he's alive. Dressed in what looks like a business suit, with graying hair and the beginnings of a bald spot, he seems to be a fairly well-heeled middle-aged guy. So how did he end up here, like this?
“Hello!” I say. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing. No sound. No movement.
“Hello?” I say again.
“Great,” says Pierce, who hasn't come over yet. “Another stiff. Come on, let's go. We haven't got time to bury every corpse we find”.
“Wait,” I say, moving around the body to get a better look. I stare at his face, which is battered and ripped. “He's alive,” I say, spotting some movements in his eyelids.
“I don't care what he is,” Pierce says. “Let's keep going”.
Ignoring Pierce, I kneel down by the man.
“Can you hear me?” I ask. As I do so, I hear Pierce stepping close behind me.
The man slowly rolls onto his book. He looks up at us, his eyes clearly struggling to focus. “Don't let them... Don't... let them... get you...”
Pierce looks at me for a moment, then back down at the man. “Who? Don't let who get us?”
“They'll... turn you into... one of them...” the old man stammers. “They'll take you away and....” He coughs up a load of blood. “They'll take you away and... burn you with the air”.
“What are you talking about?” Pierce asks.
The old man just looks at us, and it's clear that he's struggling to breathe.
“What the fuck are you talking about”? Pierce shouts, grabbing the old man's collar and pulling him up close. “What?!?”
The old man smiles slightly. “Don't go to the city. There aren't so many of them out here... Not yet”.
“What are they?” Pierce shouts at him.
The old man takes a deep breath. “anarchists,” he sighs, then his head falls back and he lets out one final groan before he goes completely limp and Pierce, frustrated, lets go of him.
“What the fuck are anarchists?” Pierce asks, turning to me.
I shake my head. “How the fuck should I know?” I look at the road ahead of us. “But I don't think we should go to the city. Not if this is what happens there”.
“So where do you want to go?” Pierce asks. “You wanna go home and wait to die?”
“I don't know,” I say. I sigh. “Fuck it, Pierce, I don't know where we are, or where we're going, or what we're going to do. I don't even know what's happening. Why's it so dangerous in the city?”
“People,” Pierce says, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice. “People are fucking sick, that's what. It's probably chaos in the city. People are probably killing and looting. It's probably a complete breakdown of social order”. He grins. “You don't wanna go take a look?”
“No way,” I say. “You can go if you want, but not me”.
He stares at me. “So you won't go to the city with me?”
I shake my head.
“Fine,” he says, turning and pointing at a set of road signs ahead of us. “Morristown, 15 miles,” he reads. “Morristown's a town, not a city. We'll go there”.
“What difference does that make?” I ask.
“Lo
ads,” Pierce says. “It's probably safer than New York, plus they have a great public library. If we can't use the internet, we'll just have to go and take a look at some books”.
“I'm not risking my life just to go look at some books,” I say.
“Think about it,” he says. “Maps, guidebooks, medical stuff, everything we might need to know. I went to Morristown loads as a kid, the public library is brilliant. Look at us, what we need is information”.
I take a deep breath. I have to admit, he's kind of right. But still, the idea of going to a town seems risky, especially now that we've found this dead old man.
“The first sign of trouble,” I say, “and we turn back”.
Pierce nods.
“If we find another dead old man,” I continue, “we turn back”.
“Sure,” he says, even though he clearly doesn't really mean it. “And,” he says, smiling, “we can probably load up on stuff we need. Not just books, but guns and knives. Things we can defend ourselves with”.
I shake my head. “No guns, please”.
“Really?” he says. “The stuff you've seen in the past few days, and you're totally against the idea of us being able to defend ourselves?”
I think about it for a moment. “Okay,” I say with a heavy heart. “We'll go to Morristown library. And maybe we'll grab some guns if we can”.
Pierce looks out over the horizon. “It's worse than I thought,” he says. “Things are falling apart faster and harder than I anticipated”. He turns to me. “Electricity is like fire. It's how civilization stays together. And now look at us. Turning back into fucking apes”.
Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff
I'm dying tonight. I can feel it in my bones. It's a kind of tiredness that is very different to any I've felt before. So I know my time is come, and I have but a few hours to get everything in order. I have so much more to say: about the Great Disaster; about my family; about my 96 years on this Earth; about God and chaos; about Emma; about Pierce; about the anarchists. But I don't have time to get it all written down, not with these frail old hands. Sitting here in my dark room, with the sun almost down, I have very little light left, and I don't think I will survive until the sun comes up again. So I turn to the window and I say goodbye not only to the sun, but to light itself.
Fortunately, there is a full moon tonight and a cloudless sky. Never before have I been so grateful for a last little vestige of light, silently coming through the window of my bedroom. There is enough – just enough – for me to be able to see. Sure, I'll probably be straining my eyes. But at my point in life, that's unimportant. The things in my head, though; the thoughts and memories I still have after so long; those are important. And tonight is my last chance – ever – to ensure that history does not forget my story.
In brief: I was born in Morristown in the early 21st century, to Andrew and Stephanie Hoff. My brother Russell was a decade older than me, and I had a few other siblings about whom I care and remember little. As I have already stated, my brother Russell died after the Great Disaster hit when I was six years old, and his death left a great impression on me. I subsequently lived all my life in Morristown, partly because I felt I could not leave the place where my brother's ghost might still dwell, and partly because the idea of uprooting and moving seemed so momentous now that even a simple journey can take many days.
When I was a child, I used to wonder what my last day on Earth would be like. I used to wonder if, given the chance, I would choose to be alone or with friends. Now I have my answer: I choose to be alone, but I also choose to leave this diary as an ever-lasting token of my existence. As a wise man once said (many times): so it goes.
Chapter Seven
Unlike Pierce, I've never been to Morristown. I've heard of it, sure. But when my parents took me anywhere, it was usually out of state, to a park or some kind of big event. I guess you could say I was spoiled, especially compared to someone like Pierce, but the truth is I didn't feel spoiled at the time. I thought that was just what families did. Talking to Pierce, though, it's clear that his family just left him in his room all the time. I don't know whether that means I was spoiled or he was ignored, but we're certainly from different backgrounds. And as we approach the edge of Morristown, it's clear that Pierce is getting excited by the prospect of finally returning to some form of civilization.
“We used to drive in down this road,” he says, walking so fast that I struggle to keep up. “We used to go shopping in the mall in the center of town, and then we'd go for ice cream. Every fucking Saturday, and I loved it. We only stopped going when my Dad left”.
“Your parents split up?” I ask, realizing how little I know about Pierce.
“My Mom got fat,” he says. “Really fat. My Dad tried to act like he didn't care, but he did. Eventually he made up some bullshit excuse and ran off with his secretary. Only, funny thing is, she got fat too”. He stops as we get to an intersection, deserted roads leading away in four different directions. “I think my Dad makes women fat,” he says eventually. “I don't know how or why, but it can't be a coincidence”.
“Everyone gets fat eventually,” I say.
“Not any more,” Pierce says, turning to me. “Without power, it's gonna be real hard to get fat. And it's gonna be real interesting to see how this load of shit shakes out, the way it changes things”.
I sigh. “Which way?” I ask. “Are we still headed to the library?”
“Makes sense,” Pierce says. “After all, the internet's gone, so where else are we gonna find stuff out?” He smiles. “After all that's happened, we still end up running back to books. I fucking love books”.
“Yeah,” I say absently, getting frustrated that we're not moving along. “Do you know the way?”
“Sure,” he says. “Kind of. I just wanna breathe in the air. This place has special air. Can you smell it? There's something about Morristown. I love this place”.
I nod uneasily. Great. I've been on the road with Pierce for a couple of days now, and it seems like he's cycling through a series of very different personalities. We started with cynical Pierce, then we moved on to over-confident Pierce, then we had broken Pierce who couldn't get over what happened to Holly, and now we've got nostalgic Pierce who wants to 'smell the air' and take in our surroundings properly. What's next? Can I rely on this guy at all?
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
Pierce shakes his head. “There should be eighteen thousand people living here,” he says. “And there... aren't”.
“Maybe they left,” I say. “I mean, we hit the road, so maybe they did?”
“Sure,” he replies, “maybe some of them. But this place is totally deserted. Shouldn't there be someone still around?”
We stand there and listen. There are no sounds at all. The whole of Morristown is deathly, eerily quiet. “Hey,” he says, “there's someone in there”.
He points at the window of a cafe. Inside, there's a man in a suit sitting at a table, and it looks like he's using a laptop and talking on a mobile phone. Pierce and I exchange an excited glance, then we rush over.
“Hey,” says Pierce as we get inside the cafe, which is deserted apart from the three of us. “Hey, can we use your computer? Does it work?”
“Hang on,” says the man, speaking into the phone. “Some kids have just come in”. He puts the phone down and smiles at us. “You two okay?”
Pierce nervously eyes the man's laptop. “That thing work?” he asks.
“Sure,” says the man. “Shouldn't it?”
Pierce visibly relaxes, and I feel a hint of hope welling up inside my body.
“Can we use it?” Pierce asks. “Just for a second?”
The man shakes his head. “I don't really have the time,” he says. “Sorry”.
He picks up the phone again.
“Wait,” says Pierce. “Come on, man. We need to find out what's happening”. He moves towards the laptop, but the man stands up and moves in his way.
“Leave,” says the man. “Get out of here before I knock you through the window”.
I step back. “Come on, Pierce”.
“We need to use this guy's laptop,” Pierce says.
I grab his arm. “If his laptop works, so will others. We'll find someone else”.
Pierce stares at the man. “What are you, government ops? What's really going on here?”
“Nothing's going on,” the man says. “Now please leave”.
Pierce sighs, turns to leave, then turns back to the man and knees him right in the groin. The man gasps and falls to the floor, and Pierce runs around him and sits at the laptop. He hits a few buttons, but he looks confused.
“The fuck,” Pierce says, picking up the phone and trying to get it to work. “None of this shit works. You're just fucking bullshitting us”.
The man gets to his feet, visibly still in pain thanks to Pierce's knee. “Get the fuck away from me,” he gasps, grabbing the phone and holding it to his mouth. “This kid just attacked me,” he barks.
Pierce grabs the phone back and presses a few buttons. “This doesn't work!” he shouts at the guy. “None of this works. You're fucking demented”.
The man takes a swing at Pierce, but Pierce ducks and swings his elbow into the guy's face, knocking him back down onto the ground.
“Let's go,” I say, edging towards the door.
“This guy's a psycho,” Pierce says, looking down at the guy, who is still down on the floor. “He's hearing fucking voices. He's a schizo or something”.
“Pierce -” I say.
“Fuck you,” Pierce says, kicking the man straight in the face. There's a look of pure aggression on Pierce's face, almost like an animal. “What the fuck's wrong with you?” he screams, and he stamps down on the man's chest. I rush over and pull Pierce off, dragging him over to the door.
