Days 46 to 53 (Mass Extinction Event 11)

by Amy Cross

  "You're right," he continues, his voice sounding harsh and tired. "The crops are failing. I don't know what's wrong with the land, but ever since that big rainstorm, everything's been dying. There used to be so many rabbits in the forest, you'd damn near trip over one if you weren't careful. Now it's getting harder and harder to find them, and the few that are left seem diseased and sick. I don't know where it's coming from, but something's playing havoc with the world around us. I go out there every day and I do my best, but it's clear that this isn't working. The land isn't going to keep us alive."

  "Okay," I mutter, surprised that he's finally talking to me. "Sure, but where can we go?"

  "The truck's no good," he replies, "so we'll have to go by foot. The kid'll slow us down, so we need to be realistic about our options. Pittsburgh should be within our range, so if we prepare properly we can set out tomorrow." He pauses. "If you're worried about the creatures, I think it'll be okay. We haven't seen any for weeks. I was expecting more of them to start showing up, but so far it's almost as if they're dying off. Either that, or they're avoiding us."

  "What about disease?" I ask. "There must be thousands of dead bodies in the city."

  "We'll take precautions," he continues. "There are no risk-free options here, Elizabeth."

  I watch for a moment as he finishes his food.

  "How are your shoes?" he asks eventually.

  "My shoes?"

  "You need to make sure they're sturdy enough for the journey," he continues. "If they're not, you'll have to fix them up."

  "How?"

  "Work it out for yourself," he replies. "I'm not here to do everything for you. There are some old shoes kicking about too from other people, so you might be able to adapt some of them and make yourself a spare pair. This is the kind of thing you need to be able to sort out without always looking to me for help, okay? If you can't think laterally and work with your hands, you're going to be a drain, and that's the kind of person who's really not going to last long."

  I nod, but the truth is, I feel as if I'm about to start crying. I'm sure Toad would be very impressed if that happened, so I force myself to start eating, hoping that I'll be able to hold back the tears.

  "This isn't a game," he continues. "If you fuck something up, you don't get to go back to the start of the level. If you don't have proper shoes for the journey, you'll end up with broken skin on the soles of your feet. Eventually you'll get an infection, and then you'll probably end up with blood poisoning and you'll die. There are a million other little things that you need to think about, and you can't rely on me to look after us both. I'm sorry if I seem harsh, but I need you to grow up, Elizabeth."

  "Okay," I reply, taking a deep breath.

  "And you need to -"

  "Okay," I say firmly, interrupting him. "I get it. Just... I get it."

  "I hope so," he replies, finishing his food before getting to his feet. "At least you finally told me about your concerns. I was starting to think you were gonna just sit around and wait for me to make the decision. We'll set out tomorrow. Until then, we need to start getting ready, and you need to work out how to keep that baby alive on the journey."

  "Sure," I reply as he heads to the door. "I'll do it."

  "There's another reason I haven't said much lately," he continues, turning back to look at me. "This farm was supposed to be a hold-out in case things went to hell. I spent a lot of time and money getting it ready, and it's barely lasted more than a month. It's a failure, which means I'm a failure, and..." He pauses. "Don't go relying on me to save your life," he adds finally. "You need to make your own decisions, Elizabeth. The walk to Pittsburgh is gonna be tough, and there's a good chance we won't make it. We're equals here. I'm not in charge. The sooner you realize that, the better chance we'll have."

  "Okay," I reply, my voice trembling a little.

  "To start with," he continues, "have you done what I asked about the pit?"

  I shake my head.

  "Why are you delaying?"

  I take a deep breath.

  "Get out there and do it today," he adds. "The damn thing's probably rotted away by now anyway. If you want to prove that you're not a kid, go and do a man's job for once."

  With that, he heads through to the next room, leaving me sitting in stunned silence at the kitchen table. I know that Toad's right, but at the same time I'm shocked by the fact that he seemed so aggressive. It's almost as if he's disappointed in me, even though I feel as if I've been doing a pretty good job. Either that, or the guy's a massive asshole. Could that be what's happened? Have I been stranded at the end of the world with a misanthropic, self-absorbed misogynist?

  Upstairs, Rachel lets out a few more brief gurgles.

  Thomas

  Climbing out of the truck, I push the door shut before turning and looking over at the gas station. It looks peaceful and completely undisturbed, which suggests that not only has it escaped the creatures, but it also hasn't been ransacked by anyone else.

  Still, I know I have to be careful. One wrong move could be fatal.

  "Watch out," I imagine Joe saying. "There could be zombies all over the fucking place."

  "Shut up," I whisper.

  "Shut me up," he'd reply. "It's your imagination, asshole."

  Heading around to the back of the truck, I grab a spade before starting to make my way across the gas station's forecourt. There's a part of me that's desperate to just go right ahead and break through the window. After all, there should still be plenty of food in there, enough to last me at least another month, but at the same time I have to be absolutely certain that there are none of those creatures around. I have no idea if they're smart enough to set up a trap, but I'm going to hold back until I'm certain.

  Spotting something around the side of the building, I make my way over and find that there's a car parked next to one of the pumps. It's an old convertible with the roof down, and I immediately start to worry. If the car's here, it means someone drove it to the station and then didn't leave, which means they have to be around here somewhere. I raise the spade, ready to defend myself at the first sign of movement, and I make my way around the side of the car, keeping a good distance back so that nothing can attack me.

  So far, there's no sign of anyone.

  "It's a trap," Joe would probably be saying right about now. "They're smart, those zombies."

  I complete a full circuit of the gas station, making sure that there's absolutely no way anything or anyone can get a jump on me. Once I'm back around at the forecourt, I stop for a moment and listen out for any sign of movement, and finally I start to cautiously approach the building. Putting my foot in the way to make sure nothing can burst through the door, I peer through the glass and see nothing inside but rows and rows of food. There's a fresh fruit stand nearby, covered in mold, but a little further inside there seems to be plenty of tinned food, as well as candy and some bottled water. Given the way things have been lately, this is almost like winning the lottery, but I still can't relax.

  There's a car here.

  Which means there's at least one person here.

  "Nice set of wheels," Joe's voice says in my head. "I wouldn't mind a car like this."

  "You're dead," I reply.

  "A man can still dream, can't he?"

  Taking a step back, I pull on the door and find that it's unlocked. I open it all the way and lean forward, although the smell from the moldy fruit is pretty horrific. The lights are off so the interior of the gas station is pretty gloomy, but at least I can see that there definitely isn't anything hiding nearby. I step inside and pause for a moment, waiting to see if there's any hint of movement. After a few seconds, I make my way past the ends of the aisles, while constantly looking around to see if there's anyone nearby. I head along the far wall, with the spade still raised in case I need to defend myself, but eventually I get to the cash register and find that it's deserted.

  There's no-one here.

  "Hello?" I call out.

 
I wait.

  Nothing.

  Once I've taken another circuit of the room and confirmed that I'm alone, I finally dare to put the spade down so that I can fill a sack with tinned food. It doesn't take too long before I have to hurry out to the truck and toss my haul into the back, before grabbing another sack and making my way back into the gas station for some more supplies. I swear to God, I've been dreaming about a moment like this for weeks. All the other gas stations I've found have provided slim pickings, but this one is like Christmas and Easter rolled into one. Hell, I'm gonna be able to have a feast tonight, and my days of eating worms are long gone.

  "Well, this is a turnaround," Joe would be saying right about now. "Remember when I robbed a store like this? You were so goddamn appalled, and yet now here you are, doing the exact same thing."

  "This is different," I whisper.

  “You think?”

  "This is about survival," I point out. "Back then, we didn't know what was happening. You were just looting booze and cigarettes. I'm leaving that stuff behind."

  "Damn shame," he'd say. "Why not grab a bottle of whiskey? Go on, save it up for when things are really bad. Trust me, there are times in a man's life when he really needs to take his mind of things."

  "I don't drink," I reply.

  "And therein lies half your fucking problem," he'd continue. "God damn it, Thomas, you need to relax a little. I mean, fuck, I know everyone thought I went crazy on the stuff, but it's not like I had much else to do, sitting around that stinking farm all day. I think maybe I had the right idea."

  "And yet you're the one who's dead."

  "That's just bad luck," he'd say, "and thanks for throwing shit like that back in my face. Asshole."

  Finally, after nearly half an hour, I've managed to more or less clean the entire place out. There are a few other items that I'd like to take, but I'm worried that I've already weighed the truck down enough, so I decide to head out and get as much gas as possible out of the machines. First, though, I walk around to the cash register and try to get it open. I know old-fashioned cash isn't really much use at the moment, but I still figure I might as well grab what I can. With the power off, I can't get the register to open properly, so I take a step back and smash the front with the spade. I don't really know what I'm doing, but finally I'm able to break through the top of the terminal with enough force to expose the drawer underneath.

  I start pulling out the notes and coins, but that's when I hear it.

  I pause.

  There's a faint sound coming from somewhere nearby, like a kind of scratching and clicking noise. I look over at the door that leads through to the office. Earlier, I checked and made sure that it was locked, but now there's definitely something moving about in there. I keep telling myself that it's probably just a rat, but after a moment I realize that I can hear something breathing on the other side of the door, just a few feet away. I take a step closer, trying to work out if it's actually a person.

  Silence.

  Then a clicking sound that seems strangely familiar.

  "Thomas," I imagine Joe's voice saying, "get the fuck down."

  At the last moment, I suddenly realize what I can hear. I step out of the way just as a shotgun round blows the door apart. Fragments of shattered wood are sent spinning across the room, and one of the pieces catches my face and cuts the skin, but all I can do is back into the corner and wait as the dust settles. After a few seconds, with dust still filling the air, I realize I can hear someone still moving about in the next room.

  Elizabeth

  It's been a couple of weeks now since Toad told me to come out here and get this job done, but I've been putting it off. He probably thinks I'm being squeamish, but the truth is that I've been hoping the job would kind of take care of itself. After all, it's been almost a month since either of us came to check on the creature in the pit, and I figure it must have rotted away by now.

  Setting the can of gas down on the ground, I stare at the top of the pit and wait for some hint of movement from down below. Hearing nothing, I lean down and open the can before tilting it and dousing some rags. My heart is pounding and I can't help glancing around every few seconds, just in case there's anything else out here. It's been a long time since we saw any of the creatures, but I know that one could appear at any moment. Finally, figuring that I just need to get this done, I grab the can and head over to the edge of the pit. Along the way, I catch my foot on something, and I feel a sharp pain in my right ankle.

  Taking a look, I see that I've cut myself on an old piece of barbed wire. It doesn't look too bad, so I figure I can clean it up later.

  When I look down into the pit, I see that the creature's body is little more than a husk now. It's strange to think that just a few weeks ago, Patricia was planning to keep the damn thing alive so she could carry out experiments. Sometimes those days feel as if they happened a million years ago, to someone else in another life. Holding the can up, I start pouring gasoline down into the pit, making sure to cover the creature's body as much as possible. Maybe I'm getting hardened to this kind of thing, but now that I'm finally out here, there's definitely a part of me that's looking forward to watching the damn thing burn. After all, if these creatures had never appeared, a whole lot of people would still be alive.

  I'd still have my parents, and my brother, and a future.

  Once the gas can is empty, I set it aside and grab the rags. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the old cigarette lighter I found in Patricia's room. It feels good to be finally getting this job done, and I'm starting to think that in some ways Toad was right. I tend to spend far too much of my time sitting around, waiting for things to happen, when really all that I need to do is get off my ass and start working. I know Toad thinks I'm too passive, but I'm determined to show him that I can step up to the plate. Sure, things might be looking pretty bleak right now, but I'm damn well not going to just sit down and wait to die. At least one member of the Marter family is going to make it out of this nightmare alive.

  Hearing a creaking noise from the pit, I glance down, not really expecting to see anything. After a moment, however, I realize that the creature's head seems to have moved slightly. I stare, trying to stay calm while reminding myself that this is probably all just in my head. After a moment, however, there's more movement, as the creature very slowly turns to look at me, even though its shriveled eyes look as if there's no way they can see anything at all.

  I stare back down at it, but to my surprise I realize that I'm not scared. I'm angry.

  "Have you been conscious down there all this time?" I ask.

  There's no reply. Judging from the state of the creature's emaciated face, I'm not sure it's even capable of talking anymore. Most of its skin has rotted away, exposing part of the skull, and the jawbone looks to be hanging loose from one side. Between its rows of stained teeth, however, I can see something moving, and finally I realize that the tongue is twitching. I guess the creature might be trying to say something after all.

  "I was supposed to come and kill you a long time ago," I continue, feeling strangely bold and calm. "I figured I'd let you suffer, though. I hope it hurt as you were wasting away down here. I hope you felt every second of pain as your body broke down."

  Slowly, the creature tilts its head a little, almost like a dog that doesn't understand a command.

  "Can you even feel anything anymore?" I ask. "I knew someone who was going to carry out a load of experiments on you. She wanted to test you and poke you, and try to work out exactly what you are." I pause for a moment. "Part of me wishes she'd had the chance. She was very focused on her work, so I doubt she'd have spent much time worrying about your well-being. She'd probably have tortured you, just to get a better understanding of how you work. I'd have been horrified, but maybe I'd have come to enjoy it after a while. Still, she went kind of crazy in the end. She was trying to work out which one of us had been infected in the house, and she went overboard. She was probably a nice person befo
re this madness started, though. That's the worst thing. You're making us become different people, just so we can survive."

  The creature shifts its position a little, almost as if it's trying to get up. It clearly has no chance of moving very much, though, since most of its muscle mass is gone. I watch as it keeps trying, and finally its entire jawbone comes loose, dropping down onto its ribs before falling to the ground. The creature continues to stare at me, and now I can see its tongue rising up from the back of its throat, flicking in different directions as a faint gurgle emerges. The damn thing looks ridiculous.

  "I'm not even scared of you," I continue, staring at the shriveled brown orbs that were once a pair of eyes. "Not now. You might look like some kind of zombie, but you're not, are you? You're a living, breathing thing, or at least you used to be. We thought you were going to overrun us and rip us to pieces, but we haven't seen any more of you for weeks. What happened? Did you all just wither away like this? I don't know what the hell you've been planning, but right now you don't look so scary. In fact, you look pretty goddamn weak. I could probably just leave you down there and you'd rot away by the weekend, or I could climb down and throttle you with my bare hands."

  Pausing for a moment, I realize that it actually feels better to be saying these things. For the past few weeks, I've lived in constant fear of these creatures showing up again, but now I'm starting to think that the threat might be over. After all, if they've all started to rot away, there's a chance that nature might just have taken care of the problem. Then again, there's probably an element of wishful thinking about this scenario, and I try to focus on the fact that things can't be so easy.

  "This is for my brother," I say finally, holding the rag up and lighting the gasoline-soaked bottom half. "It's also for the other people who've died since all of this began, but mainly it's for Henry, and for my parents, because I miss them and because I'm never going to get them back. I don't know how many other people have also died over the past few weeks, but I'm sure it's a lot, and it's all your fault."