Days 46 to 53 (Mass Extinction Event 11)

by Amy Cross

  "Not only that. We can be there in a day or two! We can find these people, whoever they are, and we can make contact." Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, she starts making notes from the laptop screen. "Everything's coming together perfectly," she continues. "The dream, the signal... It's as if some divine force is guiding us to an endpoint. There has to be a reason, though. After all the chaos, order is finally being restored and..." She pauses, and then she turns to me again. "Order is being restored, and we're right at the heart of it all. The world is being reorganized in a new manner, and while the vast majority of people have been left to die, the three of us are destined to play some part in whatever comes next."

  Hurrying back to the laptop, she closes the lid and unplugs it from the various wires that have been connecting it to the wall.

  "There's no time to waste," she says, grabbing a bag from the desk and turning to us. "Thomas, fire up that truck of yours and let's get moving. I've got the directions, I already have some supplies packed, and if I'm right, there's some kind of force guiding us on our way. The future of humanity is waiting for us!"

  ***

  A few hours later, with dusk starting to fall, we hit the road. Although I keep telling Quinn that we should wait until morning, she insists that we start the journey as soon as possible, and eventually I'm too tired to argue with her. With the truck packed, the three of us leave behind the sixty survivors, who have started to huddle around burning trashcans for heat. I want to ask Quinn what'll happen to them, but I figure I know the answer. They're going to die slow and painful deaths, probably starving or becoming dehydrated, or maybe the rats will get them. Quinn seems to excited to even care, but I can see that Kaylee understands the situation. Again, though, I'm too exhausted to argue, so we leave.

  Quinn tells me that I have to drive.

  As we reach the outskirts of the city, I glance toward the horizon and watch as the sun casts a beautiful red and orange glow across the desolate landscape. In the distance, a lone silhouette is walking slowly toward the north, and I realize that it's George, setting out on his lonely, doomed quest to find his daughter and granddaughter. For a moment, I consider telling Quinn to go to hell, and maybe joining George instead. Finally, however, I steer the truck onto a road that leads toward the east, figuring that we should stick to our plan and head to Lake Erie. Still, I keep glancing over my shoulder until finally George can no longer be seen.

  The road ahead is dark.

  Part Five

  Day 50

  Elizabeth

  When I open my eyes, I immediately realize that something's wrong. My skin is cold and wet, and finally it hits me: I'm covered in a fine layer of dew.

  Sitting up, I wipe beads of water from my face. I'm shivering, but I'm not sure if that's because of the high fever or the fact that I seem to have been passed out for more than a day. I'm simultaneously hot and cold, and I can barely even squeeze a coherent thought out of my head, but as I sit in the silent clearing I finally realize that something else is also wrong. I take a deep breath, but there's a sharp pain in my chest. Whatever's wrong with me, it's spreading.

  Suddenly, there's a sound nearby.

  Whatever it is, it's repetitive, and getting closer. Like a kind of rustling, or footsteps...

  Turning, I see something moving in the distance, a dark shape making its way between the trees. I can barely even remember who I am, let alone how I ended up here, but finally the shape gets close enough and I'm able to make out a tall, well-built man with a small bundle of fabric cradled in his arms and some kind of cloth sack slung over his shoulder. He's making straight for me, and although I have no idea if it's safe for me to be here, all I can do is wait for him. Something about the guy feels safe and reassuring, but I'm still not certain...

  I open my mouth to ask him what's happening, but no words come out. I try again, but it's as if my body is no longer fully under my control.

  Feeling a faint pain, I look down and see that the skin around my right ankle looks to be swollen. I can vaguely remember something about this, as if deep in my memory there's a range of facts that make sense, but my mind is far too jumbled. Again, I try to ask a question, but again my mouth barely even moves.

  "You're alive," the man says as he sets the bundle of fabric down nearby. To my surprise, the bundle moves slightly, and a moment later I see a small hand reach out. It's a child.

  There's a name in the back of my mind.

  Rachel.

  I want to ask the man who he is, but I feel as if my head is burning.

  "I wasn't sure you'd still be here when I got back," he continues as he places the sack next to me and starts pulling out various items. "Last night was much colder than I'd expected. There was a real risk of exposure, even with the blanket I left. I traveled as fast as I could, but it wasn't easy with Rachel in my arms the whole way. I never realized quite how tiring it could be, carrying a baby for such a long time. I've got no idea how you managed it."

  Me? Did I carry her once? She's not my child, I'm sure of that.

  Squinting a little, I stare at his tools. There are a couple of saws, along with some bandages and various other items I don't even recognize. I feel as if I know this man, as if I should be pleased that he's come back, but my mind is still a little foggy. Focusing on trying to remember his name, I hold my breath for a moment, but it's useless. I feel as if there's a fire burning in my body.

  Nearby, the child lets out a gurgle. For some reason, this seems to reassure me.

  "Are you okay?" the man asks.

  I turn to him, but's it's difficult to focus on his features. Everything seems slightly blurry.

  "Let's take a look," he continues, leaning closer and using his fingers to pull my eyelids back. There's a flash of light, as if I'm not used to having my eyes fully open, and I can tell from the look on his face that the guy is concerned. "Your pupils are dilated," he says after a moment, "one of them more than the other, and you're having trouble focusing, aren't you? The fever's getting worse. Can you even remember your name?"

  "Eliz..." I whisper.

  "What's that?"

  "Eliz..." I pause, trying to get it right. "Elizabeth." I pause again. "Marter. Elizabeth Marter. I'm from Manhattan. My brother's... Henry..."

  "That's good. And do you remember my name?"

  I stare at him, but the answer won't came.

  "What about her?" he asks, indicating the child nearby.

  "Baby," I whisper, before I feel my mind start to clear a little. "Rachel... Is she okay?"

  "Given the circumstances, she's great. She's been a little more responsive over the past day." Turning to my right foot, the guy reaches down and examines the skin. "I wish I could say the same for you. This is as bad as I feared, Elizabeth, maybe even worse. You're developing a serious infection, and even if we had access to the best medical science the old world could provide, I don't think there's much they could do at this point. You're going to have serious necrosis of the flesh around the wound soon. If I had to guess, I'd say this is a case of tetanus complicated by a tight shoe and maybe some other environmental factors."

  It takes a moment, but I'm finally able to focus on my own foot, and that's when I realize that it's swollen to double its usual size, while the flesh has become a kind of black and green color. Taking a deep breath, I can feel pain throbbing through my body, but somehow I'm almost like an outside observer, noticing the pain but not really feeling it.

  "I couldn't find everything I was looking for," the guy continues. "I went back to the farmhouse to pick up some things. It was the only solution."

  "I thought you'd left me," I reply, even though the words barely even make sense. "I thought you'd..." I pause for a moment, trying to breathe steadily. "I thought you'd gone off without me."

  "I'd never do that," he says, turning to his tools and arranging them on a small piece of cloth. "However, what I'm going to do next is going to hurt, Elizabeth, and I'm afraid there's absolutely nothing I can do about
that. Believe me, I've tried to come up with an easier approach, but there's nothing. All I can promise is that the pain shouldn't last too long, and at least you'll have a good chance once it's over."

  "Toad?" I say suddenly. "That's your name, isn't it?"

  He turns to me. "That's right."

  "What's happening?" I ask.

  "You're sick."

  "I know, but..." I stare at the tools. One of them is a large saw, while another is the same but smaller. "What are you going to do?" I ask eventually, starting to feel a knot of panic in my gut. "What are you doing to me?"

  "The only thing that might save your life."

  "What?" Instinctively, I try to inch away from him, although I'm not very mobile. "Tell me..."

  "Your foot isn't going to get better," he explains. "It's only going to get worse, and once it passes a certain point you're going to end up with blood poisoning, and then you're going to suffer a slow, painful death. I've tried to come up with another approach, but there's no point delaying the inevitable. If you're going to stand any chance of survival, I'm going to have to take the foot off."

  "What do you mean?" I ask, dragging myself a few inches away.

  "I'm going to amputate," he continues. "That's why I told you that this is going to hurt."

  I shake my head.

  "It's the only way."

  "No."

  "The actual procedure won't take too long. I did something similar to a cow once. I know that probably won't make you feel much better, but if I work quickly it can all be over in a couple of minutes."

  "You're not cutting my foot off," I tell him, starting to really panic as I realize that I'm not strong enough to stop him. I try to get up, but as soon as I put any pressure at all on my right foot, the pain is intense and I collapse in a fit of agony. "Please," I whisper as I try to get up again, "don't touch me!"

  "I know what I'm doing. More or less, anyway. Once the foot has been removed, I'm going to fold the skin over and then bandage it properly. I can't lie to you, though. It's going to hurt, and then you'll have to endure more pain while it heals, but I think we can keep it clean. Dan Hodge's farm isn't that far away, maybe five hours. I was going to try to get you there first, but I don't think we can afford to wait a moment longer. As soon as the amputation is complete and I've bandaged you up, I'll take you there for recovery. It'll just be a few days -"

  "No!" I shout. "No, I don't give you permission for this! You can't do it!"

  "Do you want to die instead?"

  "I thought you'd left me!"

  "I almost did," he continues, "but eventually I realized... If Rachel and I had gone on without you, we might have had a marginally better chance of survival, but I'd never be able to live with myself. So here we are, and I hate to say this, but your opinion on the matter doesn't really count. You can't stop me, and I'm prepared to use force here. It's for your own good."

  Reaching out to one side, I try to find a rock or a stone, anything that I might be able to use to defend myself. Rolling over, I feel a jolt of agony in my foot but all I can think about is somehow getting away from this maniac. As I try to crawl, however, I can already feel myself getting weaker and weaker, and after several minutes have passed I've still only managed to get a few feet away. Turning, I see that Toad seems to have finished preparing his tools, and finally he looks at me.

  "It's time," he says calmly.

  "No!" I shout. "No! You're not doing this!"

  "I'm going to have to tie you down," he continues, pulling a length of rope from the cloth sack. "It's only to make sure you can't struggle once I start cutting. Please try to understand."

  "No!"

  "It's the only way, Elizabeth. You'll thank me later."

  "No!" I shout again, as he comes around behind me and grabs my shoulders. Although I try to fight him off, I'm too dazed and weak to have my effect, and soon he's got my arms tied firmly behind my back, at which point he drags me across the clearing and uses a second piece of rope to tie me to the side of a tree. Even though I know I can't make him stop, I keep trying to get free, but finally I feel the last of the ropes being pulled tight around my chest and I realize that I can barely even move.

  "This is going to save your life," he says eventually, holding a small piece of wood toward my face. "Here, bite down on this. It'll help with the -"

  "Go fuck yourself!" I shout, still struggling to get free. He tries to put the piece of wood in my mouth, but I immediately spit it out.

  "Elizabeth -"

  "Help!" I scream, hoping against hope that there might be someone nearby who can hear me. "Somebody help me!"

  "I'll make it as quick as possible," Toad says, turning and heading back toward his tools.

  I keep screaming, even as he picks up the large saw. He pauses for a moment, examining the blade, and then he turns and starts walking toward me.

  Thomas

  "This is the most amazing thing ever!" Quinn shrieks from the passenger seat. "It's like we're roving investigators on some kind of amazing road trip, and look! I can even ping the server remotely. We're technological road warriors in a post-apocalyptic landscape. It's almost as if we're living in a movie!"

  As I keep my eyes on the road, I can barely even summon the energy to respond. We've been driving through the night, and while Quinn has spent the whole time enthusing about our plans, I can barely keep my eyes open. With the sun having finally risen in a cloudy gray sky, I'm starting to get to the point where I have to sleep if I'm going to keep from driving straight into a ditch. As Quinn taps excitedly at her keyboard, I bring the truck to a halt at the side of the road.

  "What's wrong?" she asks, sounding worried. "Thomas, is there a problem with the truck? Do you know how to fix it?"

  "No," I reply wearily, barely even able to find the strength to get any words out, "there's not a problem with the truck, there's a problem with me. I need to sleep."

  "There'll be time to sleep later," she says dismissively. "Let's keep going for now."

  I shake my head.

  "Do you want something to eat? Would that help?"

  "I need to sleep," I tell her again, starting to feel frustrated. Why the hell doesn't she understand?

  "Oh, whatever," she replies, playfully punching my shoulder. "Come on, find some more energy from within. Did you know that we have enormous untapped reserves of strength that we never use? Our bodies naturally try to slow us down when we get to the halfway point, but with a little mental strength you can free up those reserves and use them for an extended period. It's a wonderful skill to have. How do you think I manage to remain so perky all the time? Just try to feel the enthusiasm rise up from your soul, Thomas. We'll be in the target zone in another nine or ten hours, you can -"

  "I need to sleep," I say again, still staring at the road ahead. "It doesn't matter what you say, okay? You're going to have to drive."

  "How?"

  I turn to her.

  "I can't drive," she continues, with a frustratingly blank look in her eyes, as if I've just asked her to operate a rocket ship or perform brain surgery. "I never learned."

  I stare at her.

  "What are you looking at me like that for?" she asks. "It never came up! I wouldn't know how to drive this thing if my life depended on it. Everyone has a blank spot in their skill-set, and I'm afraid this is mine. I can do so many useful things, but drive a vehicle? Sorry, no way."

  "What about Kaylee?"

  "She can't drive either," she replies. "She can't really do much at all at the moment. That's why I made her ride in the back of the truck." She leans closer and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's really just here to bulk up the numbers, you know. She's a bit of a red shirt, if you get my meaning. Still, she was in my dream, and who am I to argue with the forces of the universe?"

  "So I'm the only one out of the three of us who can drive?" I ask, genuinely shocked.

  She nods.

  "Then we're gonna have to take a break, 'cause I need t
o rest for a few hours."

  "You can't, Thomas," she exclaims, setting the laptop aside for a moment and turning to me. "Please, we need you. Humanity needs you. We're so close to getting some answers, and I know it's hard, really I do, but we're all having to extend ourselves a little further than we might want, and sometimes you just have to push yourself and summon up the strength from deep within." She pauses, as if she's searching my face for a sign that I agree with her. "Come on," she adds, forcing a smile. "I wouldn't have brought you on this trip if I didn't think you could do it. We're all operating outside our comfort zone here. Don't let the side down."

  "You wouldn't have brought me if you didn't need my truck," I point out, "and I wouldn't have come if I thought I'd have to drive for a whole day without stopping. It's physically impossible."

  "Your truck?" She lets out a faint laugh. "I could've just stolen your goddamn truck, Thomas. I mean, really, that's hardly a big stumbling block, is it? You've got to think about how the world has changed. People aren't always going to ask your permission when they want to use something. Often, they'll just take it. Hell, property rights have gone right out the window, haven't they? It's survival of the fittest, and the smartest, and the toughest. This truck, like everything else in the world these days, belongs to whoever can take it."

  "I'm going to make this very clear for you," I continue, starting to lose my patience. "I can't drive without taking a few breaks every so often. If I try, we'll crash."

  She stares at me, and there's a look in her eyes that makes it seems as if she's heart-breakingly disappointed in me. Frankly, her constant enthusiasm is starting to piss me off.

  "Fine," I mutter, opening the door and climbing down onto the side of the road. Making my way around to the back of the truck, I find that Kaylee is wide awake, sitting in one corner with her knees drawn up toward her face. She looks terrified, which seems to be her default facial expression, but right now I really don't have the energy to be diplomatic. "You need to drive," I tell her. "It's the only way."