Days 54 to 61 (Mass Extinction Event 12)

by Amy Cross

  “I promise,” I tell him, struck by the sudden change in his tone.

  “It might seem...” He pauses. “You might not like it,” he continues, “but you must give me a chance to explain. There's a reason for everything, Thomas, even if at first it seems... wrong.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “The...” Another pause, as if he's struggling to find the right words. “I've been keeping track of the days since this whole nightmare began,” he says finally. “Today is day fifty-four, which makes it almost two months. In that time, have you encountered anything that seemed... out of place?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like anything at all. Have you encountered anything that scared you?”

  “Plenty,” I tell him.

  “I see.” He pauses again, as if he's studying my reaction. “The world has changed, Thomas. You understand that, I hope.”

  I nod.

  “Right and wrong, good and evil... We have to start rethinking everything we thought we knew.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?” I ask.

  “It's not much further now,” he replies, turning and starting to walk again, forcing me to keep up with him as I carry the other end of the stretcher. “Men like us, Thomas, we have to see things that the others can't or won't look at. We have to face the truths that other people, ordinary people, prefer to ignore.” Leading me up a steep incline that runs from the lake-shore to the edge of the forest, he finally stops again. “We see things... and we hear things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, Thomas.”

  “But what -”

  “Just listen.”

  I pause, listening to the sound of silence all around us, but after a moment I realize I can hear something else, something from the forest. There's a kind of faint rasping sound that seems to be floating through the air, drifting on the faint morning mist. Whatever it is, it's alive.

  “Do you recognize that sound?” Mark asks.

  “I don't know,” I tell him cautiously.

  “Come on,” he continues, leading me further from the shore as we begin to thread our way through the trees. “There's no need to be scared. Everything's under control.”

  “What's under control?” I ask, resisting the urge to stop again. “Where -”

  Spotting something up ahead, I realize that there are several wooden posts driven into the ground, with thick layers of barbed wire running between them. As we get closer, it becomes apparent that there's actually a second line of posts running just inside the first, with more barbed wire, and that there's a clearing on the other side. Finally Mark stops and gestures that it's time for us to lower Jacqueline to the ground.

  “We're here,” he says, turning to me.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “You'll need to come this way,” he continues, heading along the fence. “Let me show you from the viewing platform.”

  “What viewing platform?”

  “Just come with me!”

  I glance down at Jacqueline's covered body for a moment, before turning to see that Mark is already well ahead of me, making his way around the edge of the clearing. Although I'm not entirely sure that this is a good idea, I reluctantly start to follow, while looking all around in case there's anyone else here. After everything that has happened over the past few weeks, I've learned to be constantly vigilant, especially in a wooded area where visibility is poor.

  “Come on!” Mark shouts, reaching a gap in the fence and stepping through. “There's no need to be nervous.”

  As I get closer, I realize that the groaning sound is getting louder, and I can also tell now that there's a kind of rustling, clicking sound. When I reach the opening in the fence, I see that Mark is standing on a section of wooden decking that seems to be overlooking some kind of large pit. He stares down for a moment longer, before turning to me.

  “Come closer,” he says, with a look of eager excitement in his eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Just come and see for yourself.”

  Taking a few cautious steps toward him, I look down at the pit, which turns out to be much deeper than I'd imagined. I have to get close to the edge before I can see the bottom, and finally I realize that not only is the pit around twenty meters in diameter, it's at least ten meters deep. Stopping suddenly, I realize that there are several figures down at the bottom, moving around in the piles of leaves and mud.

  “What -” I start to say, before realizing the truth.

  “I'm keeping them alive,” Mark says, clearly proud of his achievement. “Twelve of them, like the apostles.”

  Taking a step closer to the edge, I watch as one of the figures turns and looks up at us, and I immediately see the telltale signs of rotting flesh all over its body.

  “Those creatures,” I whisper, instinctively taking a step back.

  “This is life,” Mark continues, turning to look back down at his captives. “Life, Thomas, persisting in all its forms. Isn't it wonderful?”

  Elizabeth

  “She can't have gone far,” a voice shouts, out in the corridor. “Check all the rooms.”

  As I listen to the sound of people running past the door, I realize that they're going to find me sooner rather than later if I don't get out of here. I turn and look at the cart, which is still beeping quietly, and finally I figure that I've got no choice: reaching under my hospital gown, I start to peel the adhesive pads off my chest, removing them one by one until all the wires have been detached from my body. When the last one comes loose, the machine starts to beep more furiously, so I hit various buttons on the side until it switches off.

  Although my right foot is still painful and wrapped in bandages, I can move a little faster now that I'm no longer dragging the cart around. I limp over to the door and listen for a moment, and finally I realize that there doesn't seem to be anyone out there. I grab the handle and pull the door open, before peering out and seeing nothing but an empty corridor. I know I should just go and tell these people where I am, but the screams I heard a few minutes ago have given me second thoughts and I want to know exactly where I am before I just deliver myself into their hands. Besides, I'm already starting to think that I should find a way back out to the forest, so I can look for Toad.

  I wait a moment longer, before limping out into the corridor and hurrying toward the next window.

  Looking out, I see a dusty path that runs between this building and what looks like some kind of portable cabin. Trying the nearby door handle, I find that it's unlocked and I limp out into the bright morning sunlight. I can hear voices in the distance, so I quickly hobble to the cabin and pull the door open before slipping inside and finding myself in some kind of office. There's a desk at the far end of the small room, with various items of paperwork spread out everywhere, and on one of the walls there's a large map showing the entire United States.

  Limping over to the map, I see that small red flags have been stuck into several locations, while some of the cities have had their names crossed out with thick black pen. Washington, New York, Chicago and several more have seemingly been scrubbed away, but it's still not clear what that means, and there's a thick red ring around Boston.

  Hearing people running past the cabin, I look over at the door, waiting for someone to burst through, but finally the people pass and keep going. Making my way to the desk, I feel a twinge of pain in my shoulder as I reach down and pick up a cardboard folder. Opening it to the first page, I find a document titled 'Mitchfield Base Category A Emergency Plan'. The rest of the page contains a series of -

  Suddenly I hear a click as the door opens, and I turn to see a man stepping into the cabin. Wearing a light brown military uniform, he stops as soon as we make eye contact.

  “Well,” he says after a moment, seemingly stunned to see me.”I mean...”

  Frozen, I try to work out what to do next.

  “Okay,” he continues, holding his hands up, “I don't want you to panic, Eliza
beth. You're injured and you could hurt yourself more if you try to run or do anything stupid. Your foot's basically held on by little more than string right now, even the slightest knock could have it off again. Let's avoid any sudden movements.”

  I look around, hoping to spot something I can use as a weapon.

  “Here,” he says suddenly, taking his gun from a holster around his waist and setting it down on a nearby table. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

  I want to believe him, but my heart is pounding and after everything that has happened lately, I don't trust anyone.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” he asks.

  “Why would I hurt you?”

  “I'm just trying to establish a little trust here.”

  “Were you the one who shot me last night?”

  “No,” he replies, “but it was a man from one of my teams. I'm sorry, but in heightened situations, mistakes can happen. They couldn't be sure you weren't infected.”

  “So they shot me to find out?”

  “It was only a flesh wound,” he replies. “Not like your right foot. Now that required some serious work. You were in surgery for a few hours.”

  “It's my actual foot?” I ask, shocked that it's not just some kind of prosthetic attachment. I pause for a moment, thinking back to the day when Toad had to cut my right foot away. “Where did you find it?” I ask skeptically, figuring that I need to play for time while I figure out what to do next.

  “Out in the forest. One of our patrols got lucky.”

  “That seems hard to believe,” I tell him.

  “There's a gel pack on it at the moment, something to help new connections form. It's an advanced method developed for soldiers who...” He pauses for a moment. “You know, I'm not a doctor. You'll need to speak to Doctor Kennedy about your foot, I'm just... Well, I'm General Bill Patterson and I was the second-in-command here at Mitchfield until my superior was killed about two months ago. Now I'm in charge. Like a lot of people, I've received a very sudden rise in rank.”

  “Patterson?” I reply. “That name seems familiar.”

  “You're probably wondering how you ended up here.”

  “Your men shot me and kidnapped me?”

  “Well...” He pauses, before a faint smile crosses his face. “That is one way of looking at it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did they shoot me?”

  “It was a very confusing -”

  “Where are Toad and Rachel?”

  “Who?”

  “Rachel's the baby who was in the farmhouse with me,” I continue, starting to let my frustration show. My mind is racing, and I feel as if I have a million questions. “What have you done with her?”

  “She's not your child, is she?”

  “Her mother's dead,” I tell him.

  “We've determined that she seems to be approximately one month old.”

  “That's about right.”

  “She's safe,” he continues. “She's here at the base, and she's getting all the attention she needs.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “I'll get someone to take you to her.”

  “What about Toad?” I can immediately see from the look in his eyes that he has no idea what I'm talking about. “He was with me until the day before your men showed up,” I continue. “He went out in the storm -”

  “Then he's dead,” Patterson replies.

  I shake my head.

  “That was a massive storm,” he continues. “There were huge mudslides in the valley, enough to catch out even the most experienced people. Some of my men had trouble.”

  “He's not dead.”

  “Well he certainly wasn't with you when we found you.”

  “That's because he hadn't come back yet!”

  “And how long had he been gone?”

  “A day,” I reply, before realizing that he might be right after all. Still, I can't accept it, not yet. “He's really good at living off the land,” I continue, stammering slightly. “He... He knows how to look after himself.”

  “Well...” He pauses for a moment, and I can tell that I haven't changed his mind at all. “There's always hope, isn't there?” he continues. “My men haven't encountered anyone else out there, but if they do, they'll bring him here. I should warn you, though, that the terrain in these parts has become extremely difficult. It's changing constantly as more bad weather hits, and in some areas it's completely impassable. The fact that your friend didn't return to you in the first place is -”

  “He's alive,” I say firmly.

  “But -”

  “He just is,” I continue, even though I know how desperate I must sound, almost like a complete idiot. “He's alive,” I add. “I know it.”

  “I'm sure you're -”

  “There's no sign of her,” a voice calls from outside the cabin. “Sir, should we send out the men with dogs?”

  Patterson stares at me for a moment, before turning as another soldier joins him in the doorway. “Actually,” he explains, “she's right here. I told you she wouldn't have got far on that leg.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the soldier replies, clearly surprised to see me. “I'll tell the other men to stand down. Should I inform her -”

  “No,” Patterson says firmly, interrupting him. “I'll deal with things from this point on. Tell everyone to get back to their duties. This little crisis is over.”

  He pauses as the soldier leaves, almost as if he doesn't want us to be overheard, and then he steps further into the room and shuts the door.

  “You must have a lot of questions,” he continues.

  “What happened?” I ask. “To the world, I mean.”

  “How much do you know already? From what I understand, New York was hit particularly hard.”

  “It was, but -” I pause for a moment, trying to work out how he knows that I was in New York. He knew my name, too. Something about this situation doesn't feel right, but I don't want to let him know that I'm onto him, not yet. “Planes fell out of the sky,” I continue. “All the power went off, and almost everyone else seemed to either drop dead or turn into one of those creatures.”

  “We've seen them,” he replies. “We've named them all Joe, on account of their origin, although a lot of the men insist on calling them zombies. They're not zombies, though. Zombies aren't real.”

  “Then what are they?”

  “They're the result of one man's insane attempt to replicate his mind in the form of a virus,” he continues. “Unfortunately, that man had access to some extremely high-grade military-industrial facilities and compounds, which allowed him to get much further than should ever have been possible. His virus worked surprisingly well, although the resulting creatures usually don't last very long. Most seemed to die off after just a few weeks, although the virus itself remains very potent, even in their corpses. Pockets of further infection are still breaking out here and there.”

  “And how far did it spread?” I ask.

  “Everywhere.”

  “The whole world?”

  “Communication has been difficult,” he continues. “We've established limited contact with forces in Great Britain, France and Argentina, but that's about it. The virus would appear to have infected more than ninety per cent of the global population, and of the remaining ten per cent, not many made it past the first few days of this crisis.”

  “So how many people are left?” I ask.

  “In the world? Impossible to say for certain, but I'd imagine it's no more than a few million.”

  “But it's getting better now, right?”

  “Define better.”

  “It's under control.”

  “We understand it better,” he explains. “We know more or less how it passes from one person to another, and we know what it does to the human body once an infection begins. Obviously we no longer have access to state-of-the-art laboratories, but we've done our best. We use wood-burning generators to keep the base running, and we're wor
king on a plan to move out at some point and head to Boston.”

  “So there's hope?” I ask, barely even daring to believe that civilization might be restored.

  “There's a chance that we won't all die painful deaths in the next few days,” he replies. “Will that do for now?”

  “I want to see Rachel.”

  “We had no idea that was her name.”

  “I want to see her now!”

  “Of course,” he replies, “that's not a problem at all. You should rest, but you can see the child before you go back to your room. The only thing is...” He pauses for a moment. “Elizabeth, there's one thing you need to know about her first.”

  Thomas

  “What the hell are you doing with these things?” I ask, staring down at the creatures as they stagger around in the pit. Some of them have noticed us and are looking up, while others are clawing at the muddy walls as if they're desperate to get out.

  “I'm working with them,” Mark replies, watching the creatures with an expression that seems almost like pride. “Teaching them, learning from them... Training them.”

  “You have to kill them!”

  “Why?”

  “They're dangerous! Do you have any idea what they do to people?”

  “I've seen them in action,” he replies. “I understand them, but it's all about context.”

  I stare at him, unable to believe what he's saying.

  “There's a place for them,” he continues, “a place in the world. I'm going to help them find that place.”

  I watch as one of the creatures starts climbing up the side of the pit, but it only manages to get about half a meter off the ground before falling back down.

  “Don't worry,” Mark continues, “they can't possibly escape. I've gone to great lengths to ensure that they're trapped. Besides, they don't seem to be very good at problem-solving. Beyond some very basic tricks, there's nothing that they can really do. Not yet, anyway. I'm still working to see if there's any more intelligence that can be unlocked.”