by Amy Cross
***
Pulling one of the shelves aside in the bunker, I reach down and pick up the first of a series of large cans, only to find that it's unmarked. Opening the top, I take a sniff and realize that it seems to contain gasoline.
“Thanks, Leonard,” I mutter, putting the lid back on before heading over to another shelf and taking a look at some cans of tomato soup.
For a moment, the cans seem strangely ridiculous, as if they're all that's left over from an age that never really existed at all. Grabbing one of the cans, I take a can-opener from the table. Once I've got the lid open, I sniff the contents and realize that the soup smells okay, so I take a sip.
It tastes good.
Real good.
I start drinking more, and even though I know I should preserve as much as possible for Melissa and Katie, I can't help myself: I down the cold soup as fast as possible, before dropping the can and taking a step back.
And then I hear someone outside.
Ducking down, I realize that there's a person near the bunker. I wait, listening to footsteps scrambling over the rocks, and a moment later I hear the tell-tale creak of the door being pulled open. Looking around, I try to find something I can use as a weapon, but the only thing to hand is the can-opener. I take a deep breath, while running through the various possible scenarios:
Did Mark somehow make it out of the pit?
Did someone else survive and run into the forest, only to return right now?
“Hello?” a voice calls out suddenly. “Is anyone in there?”
I hold my breath.
I recognize that voice.
It's a man, an older man, but I can't remember where I've come across him before.
“Damn it,” the voice continues, as I hear the man entering the bunker's first room. “Well, if you're in here,” he continues, “I hope you don't mind me coming inside. No sudden movements, okay? I'm not a threat to anyone.”
I listen to him making his way closer to the door that leads into the storeroom.
“Well this is a miracle,” he mutters. “A cast-iron miracle.”
With the can-opener in my hand, I crawl behind one of the shelves, watching as a shadow falls across the floor. The man is coming closer to the storeroom, and although I still can't quite place his voice, I know I've heard him before.
“Hello?” he calls out, stepping through the door as he finally comes into view. “Damn it, I really thought I heard someone. Still, mustn't start talking to myself. That'd be crazy.”
“George?” I say suddenly, shocked as I get to my feet.
He turns to me and stares for a moment.
“It's me,” I continue, stepping out from behind the shelf. “It's Thomas, remember? From Chicago?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.
“I...” Barely able to believe what's happening, I make my way over to him and grab his arm, just to make sure that I'm not hallucinating.
“Cut that out!” he says, pulling away before I can reach him. “It's good to see you and all, but there's no need to get all touchy-feely.” He pauses for a moment. “Where are the other two? Quinn and the girl?”
“Dead.”
“Figures,” he replies with a sigh. “And what the hell is this place?”
“It's a long story,” I tell him. “How did you get here?”
“I told you I was going to walk, and I walked. I followed road signs, mostly, but I think Lake Erie's just a mile or two from here now. I was on my way there when I saw this place's metal door glinting in the sunlight.”
“Lake Erie,” I reply, still stunned by his arrival. “Melissa...”
“My daughter,” he says, with a hint of fear in his eyes. “I know it's a long-shot, but I still have to see if she and Katie have made it this far. I owe it to them to at least check.”
I stare at him for a moment, unable to believe that he's really standing in front of me.
“What's wrong?” he asks. “You're starting to freak me out, boy.”
“Let me get this straight,” I continue. “You walked all the way here from Chicago?”
“Took me eight days,” he replies.
“And you just happened to find this bunker?”
“Well I'm here, aren't I?”
“And you came inside just when I happened to be in here?”
“Are you just going to keep saying the obvious? Yes, I guess it's a huge coincidence, but statistically coincidences happen from time to time.”
I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly I realize that I have to reunite him with Melissa.
“This way,” I mutter, hurrying past him and heading to the bunker's main door. “I'm going to take you to them.”
“To who?” he asks as he follows me out.
“Your daughter and grand-daughter,” I explain, heading out the door and onto the rocks. “They're here. They're alive. Melissa and Katie aren't far from here.”
“Don't go messing with me,” he replies. “Thomas -”
“I'm not lying,” I tell him, scrambling over the rocks. “They're just a couple of -”
Losing my footing, I slip down a short way before steadying myself. The pain in my shoulder is intense and I feel as if I'm starting to sweat, but I know I can't waste another moment.
“Are you okay?” George asks, sounding worried. “Kid, you don't look too well...”
“I'm fine,” I tell him. “Come on, I have to take you to them. Melissa's finally getting the miracle she was waiting for!”
Elizabeth
“Hey,” I say as I enter the office, “is there some kind of -”
Stopping suddenly, I see to my surprise that Charles and Alison are pulling away from one another, having very obviously been kissing before I disturbed them.
“Sorry,” I continue, “I didn't mean to interrupt.”
“No, it's fine,” Charles says, hurrying over to his desk. “You were looking for something?”
“Please don't tell anyone,” Alison says, clearly worried about something. “It's not... It's just not something we're comfortable sharing yet.”
“My lips are sealed,” I tell her. “Seriously, I just came to see if you know where I can find some books. It's been a while since I read anything, so I was hoping there might be some kind of library.”
“There might be a few books in one of the other buildings,” Alison suggests. “I could take you to look later, but right now I think your father's looking for you.”
“He is?” Pausing, I realize that I'm not particularly keen to see him. “Do you know what he wants?”
“No, but it seemed urgent. He's been in a foul mood all day.”
“He hates security breaches,” Charles adds. “I get it, we need to be vigilant, but sometimes I think he takes it all way too far. It's not good for morale.”
“I wouldn't let him hear you saying that,” I reply, before sighing. “I guess I should go and find him, though. I can look for books another time.”
“I'll help you tomorrow,” Alison says eagerly. “I think I know where there'll be a few, although I can't promise they'll be any good.”
After thanking her and heading out the door, I make my way to the stairs, only to hear someone running up behind me. Turning, I see that Alison is approaching, and she still looks worried about something.
“Listen,” she says as soon as she reaches me, “I meant what I said back there. You can't tell anyone that you saw us kissing. Charles and I... It's just not something we want to bring into the open yet. People talk, and there are so many political things to take into account.”
“Political things?” I ask, not quite understanding what she means.
“It's complicated, but we just want to explore our feelings for one another without facing the glare of the spotlight. You can understand that, can't you?”
“Totally.”
“Do you...” She pauses. “I mean, was there someone in your life?”
“Maybe,” I tell her, “but he's gone now.
He died a few days ago.” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the last time I saw Toad. “It feels like a million years have passed since then,” I add finally. “He was just so -”
“Lizzie!”
Hearing my father's voice at the other end of the corridor, I can't help but tense at the thought of another of his lectures.
“Please don't tell anyone what you saw!” Alison hisses.
“I won't,” I reply. “You have to believe me. After everything that's happened, I just hope you guys can find something that makes you happy. That seems like one thing that's missing from the world right now.”
“Lizzie, where have you been?” my father asks, making his way toward us. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry,” I reply, forcing a smile, “I was just -”
“I've been thinking about what we discussed earlier,” he continues, “and I've decided it's time to make you understand what's at stake.”
“I do understand,” I tell him, trying not to sound too annoyed, “I just don't need another lecture.”
“I'm not going to lecture you,” he replies. “This time I'm going to show you first-hand what we're dealing with.”
***
“This is one of the more troublesome parts of the barrier,” my father explains a short while later, as he leads me along the deserted street toward a large metal fence that rises several meters into the air. “I wanted you to see what we're dealing with.”
As we get closer, I start to realize that the barrier is decidedly makeshift; not only is it chained together using various different types of metal, but there are several thick sections of barbed wire running along the top. It's clear that the barrier was cobbled together using whatever was at hand, and I'm shocked by the fact that it's possible to see between the bars and look at the street on the other side, which seems to be deserted.
Standing nearby, with rifles over their shoulders, are two heavily-uniformed soldiers with masks over their faces.
“This actually used to be a shopping street,” my father says, as we stop a few feet from the barrier. He turns and points at a nearby building, the windows of which have been smashed. “Whenever I came to town in the old days, I used to go into that place and grab a coffee. Then I'd go a little further along and look in the bookstore, and sometimes I'd pop into the music place on the corner. I guess I was old-fashioned, but...” His voice trails off for a moment, as if he's lost in the past. “Well, you know what I mean...”
“I guess a lot has changed,” I reply, feeling a little sorry for him.
“Do you remember that time your mother and I brought you here?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“I guess you were too young. Your mother was pregnant with Henry at the time, so you must have been only a couple of years old. You might find this hard to believe, but we actually walked along this very street.”
“We did?”
He smiles. “The three of us – well, four of us, if you count Henry – were going to lunch. It's strange, I remember that day so clearly. We walked right along here. And now...”
I wait for him to finish, but it's clear that he's lost in his memories.
“It's hard to believe how much has changed,” I reply, looking over at the street corner and imagining us, all those years ago, in a busy, bustling city filled with life.
“We made the barrier using whatever we could find,” he continues, turning to look up at the barbed wire. “There are actually three barriers, this is just the innermost one. It runs in a ring around the city's central distract. The idea is that even if someone gets past the initial barrier, they won't be able to get past the others. We're going to electrify the first barrier as soon as possible, to deter as many of the chancers as possible. I know that sounds harsh, but you have to understand that this is about protecting the inner part of the city.”
“I do understand,” I tell him. “At least... I think I'm starting to get what you mean.”
“I knew you would eventually.”
“What's that?” I ask, squinting to get a better view of a dark shape about fifty meters past the barrier, apparently slumped against the wall. “I think it's a person!”
“That's Pete,” my father replies with a faint smile. “He was one of the first people to get all the way to the inner barrier. It happened about a week ago, but the guards took him down without too much trouble.”
“So he's dead?” I ask as a shiver passes through my body.
“We move most of the bodies to the first barrier,” he continues, “to deter others, but we left Pete in place to warn anyone who gets this far. It's a constant battle, Lizzie. But this isn't the main thing I wanted to show you. We need to go into the building on the corner.”
Leading me away from the guards, he takes me into a store that turns out to have been completely ransacked. Shelves have been overturned and clothes have been left all over the floor. Limping past piles of broken glass, I can't help looking around at the shadows, worried that someone might jump out at us.
“It's okay,” my father says, as if he's read my mind. “We're safe here.”
I follow him up the broken escalator until we reach the next level, which has been trashed just as extensively as the floor below.
“Feel free to take anything that you like the look of,” he says with a faint smile. “I don't approve of stealing but, well, this stuff is just going to waste.”
He leads me to another escalator and then up to the top floor, before taking me to the far end where a window looks out across the street, giving a view of not only the barrier I just saw but also the two other barriers a little further along. Unscrewing the clasp, he opens the window, allowing a light breeze to enter the building.
“Do you see them?” he asks finally.
I'm just about to ask what he means, when I realize that there are several figures in the distance, on the other side of the farthest barrier. I watch as they scurry out of view, almost as if they know we're watching them.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Outsiders,” he replies. “People who have no place being in here with us. They're most likely trying to find a weak-spot in the barrier, or a part where they can break through without being spotted. Some of them loiter in the hope that we'll throw some garbage their way, but we've learned to reuse almost everything we produce, so they won't have any luck.”
“Are they infected?”
He shakes his head.
“So they're just people? Like us?”
“Not like us,” he replies, as if the idea offends him. “They're scavengers, parasites... They just want to break in and take everything we've built. We used to leave small amounts of food out for them, just enough to help them get on their way, but they responded by demanding more, and then when we refused they started to attack. Desperation turns human beings into animals, Lizzie, and I have no doubt that they'd kill us if they got all the way into the heart of the city.”
“Are you sure you're not demonizing them?” I ask. “Maybe some of them are dangerous, but the rest -”
“We can't risk it.”
“There's a child with them,” I point out, as three figures move past the distant barrier. One of the figures is clearly much younger than the other two. “That might be a family,” I continue. “They just want a better life for their children. You can empathize with that, can't you?”
“Then they should go and build one,” he replies, “the way the rest of us did when we started to take control of Boston.”
Sighing, I realize that there's no way he's going to come around to my way of thinking. It's as if a switch has been flicked in his brain and now he only sees threats everywhere he looks. I watch for a moment as the distant figures scramble out of view, and I can't help thinking about the child, imagining what it must be like for so many people to be starving out there. I know my father is right on a strictly logical level, but I feel as if he's being too strict and too severe.
“You'l
l understand,” he says finally. “Don't worry, Lizzie. You'll see things my way eventually. It's all a part of growing up, and I can tell you're starting to see the truth already.”
I watch as the distant figures move out of view. All I can think about is that child, and what his life must be like out there. Even though I'm starting to understand parts of my father's viewpoint, I still hate the idea of innocent people suffering, but at the same time I guess he might be right. I've seen enough violence over the past few weeks to know that sometimes, desperation really does turn people into animals.
Thomas
“So have you been okay?” George asks as we make our way along the edge of the lake, heading to the spot where Melissa and I have begun to set up the new camp. “You don't look so good.”
“I'm fine,” I reply, stumbling a little. Leading him to the top of a small ridge, I stop for a moment as I see Melissa and Katie down by the water. “See? I told you they were here.”
“Well how about that,” he says, stopping next to me. “I guess that's a good old-fashioned miracle. What happened to your shoulder?”
“Nothing. Come on!”
Hurrying across the rocks, I only manage a few more paces before I feel a sudden flash of dizziness. Stopping, I stumble and drop to my knees, and I have to take a few deep breaths. I've been trying to hide the fact that I'm not feeling well from George, but I guess he can see the truth now. I'm sure he'll understand, though, once he realizes that I'm just trying to protect Melissa and Katie.
“You're sick,” he says, as he catches up to me. “I remember you in Chicago, and you weren't like this. You need to take that shoulder seriously or -”
