by Amy Cross
The girl doesn't respond.
"You considered your own hunger to be more important than the health of one of your fellow survivors," the woman adds. "You're young, though, so there's still time to change you, to make you see the world more clearly. For that reason, I'm going to allow you to stay with us. After all, it would be unnecessarily cruel to throw away such a young life."
Silence.
"Don't you have anything to say?" the woman continues.
The girl opens her mouth, but no words come out.
"What's that?" the woman asks. "I didn't quite hear..."
"Thank you," the girl replies, her voice sounding bare and devoid of almost all emotion. "If you -"
"I considered banishing you," the woman continues, interrupting her. "I could have ordered that you were sent away from this place, to roam the rat-infested streets or to strike out on your own beyond the city. In fact, before I saw your face, I was seriously considering such an option. Would you have liked that?"
"No," the girl says, finally sounding scared.
"You'd have died," the woman replies, clearly taking great pleasure in this demonstration of her power. "It wouldn't have been pleasant, either. You'd have starved, and most likely rats would have started chewing on your body before you were quite dead. I saw that happen to a man a few weeks ago. My God, you should have heard his screams as the rats' teeth scraped against his bones. I should have finished him off, but I needed to expose myself to that kind of suffering. Instead of helping him, or running, I stepped closer and forced myself to watch. He was twitching for hours, even as the rats chewed to the bone. Once you've witnessed something like that, it no longer holds quite so much power over you." She pauses. "If you steal again, I will have no hesitation. You'll be sent out to meet that exact same fate. Do you understand?"
"Of course, but -"
"Use this opportunity. Learn from it. Become a better person and try to teach others how to live decently. There'll be no stain on your character, and no-one will hold this incident over your head, so long as you repent and reform. You're free to go. For now."
"Thank you," the girl mutters, before hurrying down from the platform and joining the crowd. She quickly takes a position near the front, and it's shocking to realize how quickly she's gone from being part of the show to being part of the audience. I guess she's just grateful to have been released, but it's as if all the people here are in awe this ceremony. I still don't quite understand what the hell's happening or how this woman ended up in charge, but there's something very creepy about the way she seems to be in charge.
As the woman wanders along the platform and stops in front of George and me, I can't help but look down at my feet. There's something about this woman's strong gaze that makes me feel uncomfortable, as if she can see directly into my soul. I wait for her to say something, but so far she seems content to just get a closer look at us, and her eyes - so brown, they almost seem to be dark red - have been fixed on me with unblinking precision for what feels like an eternity. After a few minutes, I start to wonder if she's waiting for one of us to say something, but I don't dare break the silence. Finally, however, I force myself to look at her, and I find that she's staring straight at me. An older woman, in her forties at least, she has shoulder-length black hair, and she seems to find me amusing.
"Murderers," she says eventually.
I stare at her.
"Murderers," she says again. "No-one likes a murderer, do they? Well, no-one's supposed to like a murderer, but then sometimes social conventions are supposed to be broken. You kill one man, it's murder. You kill another, it's a strike for freedom. Everything's subjective, don't you think?" She leans closer. "I murdered a pigeon the other day and ate it for dinner."
Unable to answer, I wait for her to get to the point. If she's going to have us killed, I wish she'd just get on with it.
"It was a good meal," she adds. "Plump and juicy, although I suppose that was largely due to the way I cooked it. Still, I'm sure all the other pigeons would call me a murderer. The question is, do I care? And the answer would have to be no, because they're just pigeons. But we... We're human beings, just like you. That makes things different, doesn't it?"
Standing next to me, George lets out a snort of derision.
"You find something funny?" the woman asks.
"Oh, I'm sorry," George replies. "Is this not supposed to be a stand-up comedy act?"
"The world's ending," the woman continues. "The pack has been shuffled, so to speak." She turns to me. "You were the one driving, weren't you?"
I stare at her, but it's clear she won't believe me. She's probably already made her mind up.
"I can only assume that it was an accident," she continues. "No-one would come to us and immediately kill an innocent young woman. Such a move would be insane. Unless you're monsters, which I don't think is the case. There was some concern that you might be creatures, infected by whatever caused this disaster in the first place, but I can see now that you're no such thing. You're scared, frightened men who came crashing into our little world without a plan. It's so inept and foolish, it must have been the result of blind panic. Am I correct?"
"The boy thought she was infected," George replies. "He was trying to get us out of here. I was with him, I can vouch for his actions."
"Infected?" She pauses. "There's been no infection for weeks. The creatures are gone, and they won't be coming back."
"You can't be sure of that," George tells her.
"Have you seen one recently?"
"I didn't say I disagree with you," he continues. "I just said that you can't be sure."
"I watched them rot. I was the first to come out of hiding on these streets, and I walked among the monsters as they fell apart. It was a foolish thing to do, perhaps, but it inspired others and it made them look at me as if I'm brave and wise. Obviously that's a little off-target, but I can only accept their praise. The creatures were dying, and I knew it, and by that stage I was willing to take the risk. They were still talking, some of them, and goading me. Gradually, as other people saw that I was safe, they too came out to witness the final moments of those... things. Eventually, there was only one left, and I stood before him as his body fell apart. Do you want to know what his last words were?"
"Not particularly," George mutters.
"Do you?" she asks, keeping her gaze fixed on me. "Come on, you must at least be curious. This is important stuff here, and I can see from your expression that you're not a dumb kid. You've made it this far, so you must have your wits about you."
I stare at her, trying to work out what kind of game she's playing.
"He said he'd be back," she continues. "He said he'd mis-calculated, but that his virus would mutate and evolve, and that eventually he'd see us again. And in return, I told him that whoever and whatever he really was, he suffered from delusions. I told him that there was no way back for him, no possibility of survival. And then I watched as he tried to speak, and then I laughed as his body gave way completely, and I kicked his bones once he was gone." She pauses, as if she's trying to gauge my reaction. "I imagine the same scene was playing out all over the world," she adds after a moment. "The creatures weren't viable, but they did perform a useful service. They wiped away billions of worthless people who were only taking up space and consuming resources."
"My family died," I tell her, trying to hide my anger.
"Everyone's family died," she replies. "Don't see this as a disaster. See it as an opportunity. Humanity was struggling under the weight of its own success, there were too many of us. What we needed was this mass extinction event, to bring us to our knees. Now, those of us who are left can rebuild the species without having to worry about over-population. All it took was one virus."
"See?" George mutters. "I told you the person in charge would turn out to be insane. Only a very special type of lunatic is drawn to take control like this and start spouting so much bullshit."
"My name is Amanda Quinn," the woman replies, turn
ing to him, "and I have something very important to show the pair of you. Something that I've been keeping to myself. Most of the people here aren't ready to see it, they're too dazed or too stupid, but I think I should give you a nice reward. After all, you murdered a girl who was only draining our resources. That makes you very..." She pauses, as if she's trying to find the right word. "Interesting. This tribunal isn't here to punish you for what you did. Oh no, it's here to reward you. Now, it's a great responsibility, but I would very much like an outsider's perspective, so I absolutely insist that you back to my home so I can show you what I've found. It's very important and very rare, and I think it could change everything. Are you ready to see it?"
"I'm good, thanks," George says. "No special favors for me."
"Fool," she says with a smile.
"I know plenty of very smart people who died young," he replies. "If being a fool keeps me alive, then that's fine by me. I only came here to look for two people, and I don't see them in your little group -"
"Then they're dead," she says calmly. "Believe me, this is the only safe part of the city."
George stares at her, but I can see that he believes her.
The woman turns to me.
"Well?" she asks. "Are you stubborn, like your friend, or are you interested in seeing what I've found? I could use a second opinion, and unfortunately the other people around here aren't really much use. There's no reason to be scared. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now."
I stare at her, convinced that at any moment she's going to change her mind and order our execution.
"It's a computer," she continues, keeping her voice low. "It works, too. I've got it linked up to an old wood-burning generator. Not exactly efficient, but still... Anyway, that's not even the most exciting part. Here's the kicker." She leans toward me, with a look of wonder in her eyes. "I've picked up a very interesting signal from somewhere not too far away."
Elizabeth
"This is going to hurt," Toad says as he squeezes some clear gel from a tube. "It's only a mild disinfectant, and it won't be enough to clean your wound properly, but it'll buy us time."
"Time until what?" I ask, sitting on the forest floor with my bare leg out-stretched.
"Time to think of something else," he replies, before he starts to rub the gel over my wound. He was right: it hurts. In fact, it's agony, and although I try to keep from crying out, eventually I let out a gasp of pain. I can feel the gel slowly being worked deeper into the cut, and although I'm just about managing to stay still, the pain is getting worse and worse. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and desperately try to keep myself from screaming.
"Done," Toad says suddenly.
Turning to look at him, I see that he's finished. My bare ankle glistens in the midday sunlight, and I can tell that pus has already begun to leak from the wound. I keep telling myself that somehow everything is going to be okay, but the truth is, I can tell that my ankle is only going to get worse. Already, it's almost too painful to walk, and in another few hours' time I'm going to start slowing us down.
I can't ignore the truth.
Maybe Toad should leave me. If I'm going to die, he and Rachel should still try to find safety. These thoughts have been in my mind for a few hours now, and slowly I'm edging toward thinking the unthinkable. Having spent my whole life worrying only about myself, I can finally feel a different kind of strength welling up in my soul. I just haven't had the guts to put them into words yet, although I'm running out of time and I need to get this over with before the fever brings more delirium. If my fate is sealed, I can't let anyone else suffer.
"I've been thinking," Toad says after a moment, "and I've come up with a solution -"
"Leave me," I say suddenly, interrupting him.
He stares at me.
I pause, wondering whether I really said those words.
"What/" he asks eventually.
"We both know it's the best thing," I continue, taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep from crying. "My ankle's not going to get better, is it? You can keep putting gel on it, but the infection'll just spread. Even if I keep going today, I'll end up collapsing tomorrow, or the day after that. It's inevitable."
He opens his mouth to reply, but it's clear that he knows I'm right.
"And I can't carry on any other way," I point out. "It's clear. The pain's too bad, I can't walk, you sure as hell can't carry me, and then there's Rachel..." Looking over at her, I watch as she stares back at me. After a moment, I turn to Toad. "I've always been a selfish person," I tell him, "and I've always done whatever I wanted, whatever suited me. And this injury to my leg is something I caused. It was my fault I cut myself, and it was my fault I didn't pay attention to it. I'm not cut out to live in the world when it's like this, and..."
I sniff back tears, but deep down I suddenly feel as if I'm finally doing the right thing. It's terrifying, but also strangely fulfilling.
"Take Rachel and get going," I continue. "Right at the end of my life, let me do the right thing. She's got more of a chance than me, and so have you. If leaving me here helps you two, then I want you to do it. I've never, ever done anything selfless, but I can see now that this is the right thing to do, and if Rachel survives, then that's all that matters."
"There's another way," he replies.
I shake my head, but the tears are running freely down my cheeks now.
"We can keep going," he continues. "You can use me for support, and I'll carry Rachel, and we'll try to find another route, one that's more direct. Or we can find shelter for a while and wait while I try to fix your ankle. There are a million ways we can beat this, Elizabeth, and none of them involve you sacrificing yourself."
"But all of your answers involve compromise," I point out, my lower lip trembling as I try to persuade him to see the truth. "We're not friends. Not really. We were thrown together by events, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I know that you'll just put yourself and Rachel in danger if you try to save me." I pause, stunned by the words that are coming from my lips right now. I never thought I'd do something so selfless, but the crazy part is that I don't even feel scared. As long as I know that Toad and Rachel will be okay, I know I can face this. "Please," I whisper, hoping and praying that he'll understand.
He shakes his head, but there are tears in his eyes too and I can tell that he knows I'm right.
"Please," I whisper again.
He pauses, and then finally he leans closer and kisses my forehead. After a moment, he looks deep into my eyes, and just when I think he's going to pull away, he leans even closer and our lips touch. It's not much, barely a kiss at all, but it lasts for a few seconds. I keep expecting him to turn and leave, but something seems to be holding him close to me, as if he doesn't want the moment to end.
Finally, he pulls back.
"I'm not leaving you," he says quietly.
"Yeah," I reply, sniffing back tears. "You are, and you're taking Rachel with you. And you're going to find somewhere safe, and she's going to get a chance to grow up. You can tell her about me, and you can make out that I'm some great hero who did a really brave thing, but all that matters is that you two are okay. There's a future out there somewhere, a place for survivors, and I wish I could go with you, but I can't. You've always treated me like I'm some kind of kid, but I'm not. I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions. This is the best option for all of us."
"We'll talk about it in the morning," he says. "You're tired and delirious -"
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," I continue. "Let me do this. I'm going to die anyway, so at least let me know that you two are going to be okay."
I wait for him to reply, but I can tell that I've won the argument. He's going to leave, and he's going to take Rachel, and I'm going to die with the comfort of knowing that they have a chance. The truth is, I'm convinced that they can get to safety so long as they're able to keep moving, but with me slowing them down, they've got no chance.
/> "You should sleep," he says calmly.
"I want you to be gone when I wake up," I tell him.
"Elizabeth -"
"Both of you. If you're still here, I'll refuse to come with you. I probably won't even make it until morning anyway. I can tell I'm burning up, and the pain is getting worse. Just promise me you'll be gone when I wake up."
He pauses.
"Get some sleep," he says finally. "Rest. You're in pain."
"But you'll -"
"Sleep."
"But promise -"
"Sleep. Don't make me tell you again." He reaches down and squeezes my hand. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise. You're right. You can't go on like this. Some decisions just can't be avoided."
I want to make him swear that he'll be gone when I wake up, but somehow I can tell from the look in his eyes that he's accepted the inevitability of this moment. I guess he just doesn't want to say the words, but this is goodbye, and the craziest thing is that I can't help smiling as I think of them carrying on and reaching safety. Maybe I'm delirious from the pain and the infection, but I feel as if all that matters is these two other people. Hell, I didn't even know them until about a month ago, but now they mean everything to me. I wasn't able to save Henry, but I can save Toad and Rachel.
"Thank you," I say eventually.
"Here," he says, grabbing a blanket from the rucksack and putting it over my shoulders. His hands are shaking, and although I want him to just walk away right now, I figure he has to do this his own way.
"Thanks," I reply as I settle down to rest.
"I'll -" he starts to say, but his voice trails off.
I stay awake for a while, listening to the sound of him fiddling with the rucksack. I feel strangely calm, and when I finally close my eyes, I find myself imagining what it'll be like when Toad and Rachel reach safety. I hope that one day he'll be able to tell her about me, and although there's not a chance in hell that she'll remember anything about this part of her life, she might at least realize that after her mother died, there was someone else who took care of her. I know there's a chance that she's sick, or maybe even infected, but right now I feel that she at least has hope. I helped her get this far, and now Toad's going to help her to keep going. She'll be fine.
