Days 54 to 61 (Mass Extinction Event 12)

by Amy Cross

  “How?” I ask, hearing a cry and turning just in time to see two soldiers hauling Edward to his feet. “What did you do to him?”

  “We got a sniper into the air vent,” my father replies. “The guy only had one shot, but he made it count.”

  I watch as Doctor Sukan hurries into the room and stops to take a look at Edward's hand, which is dripping blood as two soldiers struggle to restrain him. One of them has his hand over Edward's mouth, keeping him from crying out.

  “Leave him!” my father barks. “Let him bleed out for all I care. These girls need you!”

  Making his way over to us, Sukan stops next to me first.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Nowhere,” I reply, still shaking with fear. “He hit Natalie, though.”

  As Sukan goes to check on Natalie, I watch the soldiers starting to drag Edward to the door.

  “What are you going to do with him?” I ask.

  “Never mind that,” my father replies. “We need to get you to -”

  “What are you going to do with him?” I ask again, turning to him. “I want to know!”

  “He'll be dealt with.”

  “You can't kill him.”

  “Lizzie -”

  “Please,” I continue, “promise me you won't kill him. Promise me that whatever you do, it'll be proper justice, not some kind of vigilante execution.”

  “What do you think we are?” he asks. “Savages?”

  “I know about the helicopters,” I tell him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lake Erie,” I continue, suddenly feeling a sense of anger rising through my body, pushing aside all the pain and fear. “I know what those helicopters do when they go out. Natalie told me everything.”

  “Lizzie, sweetheart, you mustn't worry about -”

  “Stop lying to me!” I shout, pushing him back until he stumbles and falls to the ground. “I know what you did to those people at the lake!”

  “Lizzie, you're upset -”

  “I'm angry!” I continue, taking a step back as I feel tears starting to run down my face. “You've been murdering people.”

  “The council has to make difficult decisions every single day,” he replies, getting to his feet. “We have a long-term strategy that's designed to consolidate power and protect the people of this city. We don't have the luxury of looking after everyone else, of thinking about the human race as a whole and trying to save everyone. We have to start here, with our own home and our own people, and then maybe, in a few years' time, we can start to think about the rest of the human race.”

  “So you're willing to murder people?”

  “Don't use that word,” he replies. “Lizzie, never use that word. It's completely childish.”

  “Goddamn idiots,” Natalie mutters as Doctor Sukan helps her toward the door. She glances over at me. “It could have been all over by now. All the misery, all the pain... We could be somewhere else by now.”

  “Get her out of here,” my father says tersely.

  “I just need to give her a check-up,” Sukan replies. “I think she just -”

  “Get her out of here!” my father shouts.

  Sukan helps Natalie to the door, before looking back at me. “Drop by my office as soon as you can. I want to check you over too.”

  As they leave the room, and as the soldiers take Edward away, I'm left alone with my father.

  “Lizzie,” he says finally, “you're looking at this from the wrong perspective. You're one of us now. You're a citizen of Boston, and that means that all the people outside the city...” He pauses, as if he's exasperated by my inability or refusal to see things his way. “Your mother and I raised you to respect other people,” he continues after a moment. “We raised you and your brother that way because it was the right approach to the world we lived in back then. The world has changed since then, and now I have to raise you to live in a way that's appropriate to these changed circumstances.”

  “And you think Mom would agree with you?”

  “Your mother was an intelligent woman,” he replies. “I think she'd understand.”

  Staring at him, I try to work out whether there's a chance he might be right. Am I the one who's being unreasonable? Should I just turn my face away from everything I've learned and pretend that I agree with this strange new world? I figure that, after time, I might forget all my concerns, but still... I feel as if, by doing that, I'd be becoming someone else entirely.

  “You're right about one thing,” I tell him finally. “The world has changed, but not only in the ways you think. You don't need to raise me, Dad. I'm old enough to make my own decisions.”

  “You still need guidance.”

  “Sure,” I reply, “but I get to make my own decisions.”

  “I'm your father.”

  “So I'll listen to you,” I continue, “but I won't just accept everything you tell me and assume that there are no alternatives. If I disagree with you -”

  “What?” he asks, interrupting me with a hint of irritation. In the distance, voices are shouting, but they sound as if they're a million miles away. “What exactly will you do, Lizzie? Leave? There's nowhere to go? Try to persuade other people? We all think the same way, and do you know why we all think the same way? Because it's the only logical way to deal with the world as it is now. It's the only way to survive.”

  I stare at him, but I know he's not really listening to me. He knows what he thinks and no matter what I say to him, it'll just bounce right off. Feeling a wave of tiredness starting to wash through my body, I realize that there's no point continuing to slam my head against this particular brick wall.

  “Don't lie to me anymore,” I say finally.

  “Lizzie, I never -”

  “Don't lie to me,” I say again, more firmly this time. “I know when you're doing it, so just stop.”

  “Fine,” he replies. “I won't -”

  Before he can finish, a shot rings out in the distance.

  “What was that?” I ask, as a feeling of dread strikes me in the belly.

  More voices can be heard shouting near the building.

  “I don't know,” my father says, with a hint of concern in his eyes.

  “Sir!” a soldier shouts, running into the room. “Sir, the prisoner tried to escape...”

  “Lizzie,” my father says firmly, “stay here.”

  As he and the soldier hurry back out, I stand alone for a moment, listening to voices in the distance. Finally, realizing that I need to see for myself, I head through the doorway and back out into the trashed store, before picking my way through the debris and stepping out into the alley. In the moonlight, I can see figures up ahead, standing around a dark shape on the ground.

  Even though I already know what has happened, I make my way over to join them.

  “He tried to make a break for it,” my father says, turning to me. “He grabbed a gun from one of the soldiers.”

  Looking down at Edward's body, I see that his dead eyes are wide open, and one side of his head has been completely blown away. There's a gun nearby on the floor, just inches from his outstretched hand, and I watch as one of the soldiers picks it up and slips it back into his holster.

  “Don't mourn this man, Lizzie,” my father continues. “Mourn that poor girl who lost her life yesterday when he gunned her down in cold blood.”

  I turn to him, and although there's a part of me that wants to ask him whether Edward really tried to grab a gun, or whether this was just a way to get him out of the way, I don't think I can face being lied to again.

  “I'm tired,” I reply finally. “I just want to go to sleep.”

  ***

  Several hours later, flat on my back in bed and staring at the ceiling, I find myself reliving the whole experience with Edward Pitt over again.

  “You still have time to change your mind,” I remember telling him. “Please, don't do this...”

  And then the sound of g
unshots, echoing through my mind. I run quickly through the events that led to Edward's death, and then I start again, going back to the very beginning of the memory and the moment when Natalie knocked on my door. I don't want to think about it all, but I can't help myself, it's as if the whole thing is stuck on repeat in my mind, playing over and over again.

  “You still have time to change your mind. Please, don't do this...”

  Barely even blinking, I continue to stare at the ceiling, even as the sun starts to dip outside and my room grows ever darker.

  Thomas

  “I'm here!” I shout, sitting up suddenly as the dream starts to fade.

  Looking around, I realize that I'm still in the truck. I parked on the side of the road last night, just so I could sleep for a few hours, but now the sun has risen and I guess I must have been out for several hours. Checking my reflection in the rear-view mirror, I see that I have an imprint of the steering wheel on my forehead.

  “Great,” I mutter, taking a look at my injured shoulder. The wound is still open, but parts of it seem to have begun to heal and there's not so much inflammation. Melissa insisted on putting some more gel on it before I left, and the infection has definitely gone down. The pain is a little better too, and I don't feel so hot.

  Leaning back, I stare out the windshield for a moment, watching the dusty road ahead.

  Finally I try to start the engine again, but it takes several turns before I can get it going. I filled the truck with my last can of gas last night, but I'm already too far from the lake to get back, so I figure I need to keep driving and hope I find a gas station that hasn't been ransacked yet. Easing the truck into gear, I set off again.

  Day 61

  Elizabeth

  He runs through the dark forest, desperately trying to get away from the soldiers as rain continues to pour down.

  “Stop!” one of them shouts, as a couple more shots are fired.

  Ducking as a bullet ricochets off a nearby tree, he stumbles in the mud and then falls, rolling down a steep hill before slamming into the side of a tree, instantly shattering several ribs. Despite the pain, he gets to his feet and keeps running, even as he hears more bullets whipping through the air all around him and hitting the trees. All he can do is try to stay on his feet and hope that he can get far enough ahead.

  And then suddenly he feels a bullet slamming into his back.

  “Toad!” I shout, sitting up in bed.

  Struggling to catch my breath, I look around the room and realize that the light of morning is finally creeping through the window. That dream was so intense, so real, it was almost as if I was right there with him. I reach up and check my pulse, and I find that it's racing. I don't even know when I fell asleep, except that it was a long time after the sun went down. Getting up, I limp over to the mirror and look at my reflection, and for a moment I'm shocked by the fear and pain in my eyes.

  “Toad,” I whisper, turning to look at the window. “Where are you?”

  ***

  “You're kidding, right?” Natalie replies as we make our way across the sun-drenched forecourt outside the building. “How the hell do you think I can help you get in touch with Mitchfield?”

  “There has to be a way,” I tell her, struggling to keep up. “Maybe there's a radio somewhere, or a phone-line that works, or -”

  “You're delusional,” she says with a smile. “If you wanna find this guy, you missed your chance last night. He's blatantly dead and that means you need to be dead if you're gonna see him again. Wouldn't that be nice, huh? A lovely family reunion in heaven!” She pauses. “Are people allowed to screw around in heaven? I've always wondered that...”

  “A helicopter, then.”

  She stops and turns to me.

  “I have to go back to Mitchfield,” I continue, even though I know that I must sound completely insane. “I have to look for him. I know you probably think I'm nuts, and that's fine, I don't care what you think, but I can't just sit around here and act like I don't care. As long as there's a chance, I need to know!”

  “I thought your father told you -”

  “I have to find out for myself.”

  “You don't trust Daddy?” She smiles. “Okay, this just got interesting.”

  “It's not that I don't trust him, it's just -”

  “You think he lied to you.”

  “I think he has good intentions,” I tell her, choosing my words carefully, “but I think sometimes he goes too far when he's trying to protect me.” I pause for a moment, as my mind races with the possibilities. “I had a dream last night -”

  “Oh, a dream!” she says, clearly amused by what I'm telling her. “Well that changes everything, doesn't it? 'Cause dreams aren't just random shit that burst into your head when you're asleep, oh no, they're flashes of truth and inspiration, sent by angels and implanted straight into your mind so they can inspire you.” She turns and starts walking away. “Loser.”

  “Slow down,” I mutter, trying to keep up with her.

  “It's not my fault you can't walk properly.”

  “Don't you get it?” I ask. “I really think Toad might still be alive. Isn't there anyone you wish you could see again?”

  “Tons of people.”

  “And if you thought there was a chance, even if it was small, wouldn't you do anything within your power to try? Especially if you thought someone had been lying to you about it, wouldn't you try to find out the truth?”

  “So what do you want to do?” she asks, leading me around the side of one of the buildings. “You wanna, what, commandeer a helicopter? Steal it and fly yourself down to Mitchfield?”

  “Of course not,” I reply, realizing that I need to be a little more realistic. “I'm not saying I have to go there in person, I just need to get in touch with General Patterson so I can ask him a few questions.”

  “You want him to tell you if your boyfriend is still alive?”

  “There's also a baby involved.”

  “Say that again?”

  “A baby,” I continue. “She's only a few weeks old.”

  “You kept that quiet,” she replies, glancing down at my belly, “although I did think I spotted a hint of a bulge. You got loose skin?”

  “She's not mine!” I tell her. “She's someone else's!”

  “Cool. So you kidnapped a baby?”

  “Her mother died. Her name's Rachel and when we left Mitchfield, they were going to take care of her, but now I'm starting to worry. The whole situation just doesn't feel right!”

  She pauses, and I can tell that somehow I've finally managed to break through her barrier of snark, and she's actually giving the matter some thought.

  “You admitted there are people you wish you could see again,” I continue. “So you understand how I feel, right?”

  She stares at me.

  “You do...” I continue. “Don't you?”

  “When I said there are tons of people I wish I could see again,” she replies finally, “I was being sarcastic. Could you not tell that from my tone of voice?”

  “But -”

  “There is one life-form that I miss from the old days,” she continues, “just one, and that is my dog. He was a Labrador, his name was Benedict.” She holds out her arm, so that I can see her tattoo again. “If I could get him back in exchange for the rest of you people fucking off, I would do it in a heartbeat. Seriously, I could survive quite happily, just me and Benedict on our own. And if that sounds sad or weird, or like the plot for some particularly cheesy movie, then so be it.” She pauses for a moment. “I'd steal a helicopter and fly down to Mitchfield or wherever if I thought it meant I could get Benedict back, so yeah, I kinda, sorta understand where you're coming from. But for some guy? Hell, no. There are guys here, Lizzie. If you're getting lonely at night, it's really not too hard to find someone who'll put his arms around you. Or her arms, if you prefer that sort of thing. Or their arms, if you're particularly adventurous.”

  “One radio,” I reply, trying t
o ignore her attempts to distract me. “That's all I need. Are you seriously telling me that in this whole city, you don't know where I can find one working radio?”

  ***

  “They'll notice the signal,” she says a short while later, as she pulls the sheets off a bulky computer that looks like it's several decades old. “I'm not even kidding, they'll pick it up and they'll come looking. You've got maybe two minutes and then you have to turn it off, okay?”

  “I need a little longer.”

  “Tough. Two minutes, bitch.” She starts plugging various wires into a battery under the table. We're in some kind of old office building, and although the place looks like it was ransacked long ago, Natalie seems to have her own little hideaway here in one of the side-rooms. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep this hidden,” she mutters. “Obviously the internet's down, but there's an emergency military net that allows for communication between key nodes. Do you know anything about computers, Lizzie?”

  “Nothing very technical.”

  “Huh. Well, this system works by displacing the subatomic wavelengths of the initial signal, converting it into anti-matter vapor, and then dispersing it via various meta-organic node stabilizers that route the whole thing through a set of converters that use dark matter tachyons to re-engineer a dilithium pulse upstream from the original broadcaster.”

  “I said I don't know much about computers,” I reply with a fake smile, “not that I'm a complete idiot. You made all that stuff up. Half of it sounded like something Spock would say.”

  “Of course I made it up,” she replies, hitting a button on the front of the machine, causing it to start powering up. “I was serious about the time limits, though. The network has various dormant systems that cycle on and off the grid for short periods, and that's completely normal. They never last for more than a couple of minutes, though, so you can only hide among the noise for that long. After that, people are gonna come and confiscate the machine once they know it exists, and I really don't want that happening, okay?”