Before the Nothingness

by Kevin George

  “I. . . I’m so sorry, Carla,” he said. “I don’t. . . I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  When he approached again, Carla no longer felt fear. She expected him to offer her a hand, but he turned and put his back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting beside her. He yawned, long and throaty, his head drooping, causing several droplets of blood to splash to the floor.

  “You’re bleeding,” Carla said, reaching for his face.

  “Doesn’t hurt,” Adam said, huffing when he looked at her hand. “Looks like you are, too.”

  They both chuckled sadly and Carla leaned her head against his shoulder. With her mother sleeping silently and the weather calm outside, it was the first peaceful moment she’d felt in a long time, so peaceful that she closed her eyes and felt the gentle, comfortable pull of sleep falling over her. It almost reminded her of another time in the village, a less stressful time in a different ISU and with a different person.

  Marshall, she thought before gritting her teeth and reminding herself that his real name was Horace. That lie still bothered her, but she knew it meant something that Horace kept popping into her mind.

  The quiet didn’t last long. A high-pitched whining filled the ISU, an explosive sound that became long and dull and constant.

  “The power unit,” Adam said. “It’s not pulling enough juice from the solar panels to work the hydraulics. We won’t be able to lower beneath the ground when the next big storm hits.”

  “Probably better off,” Carla said, keeping her eyes closed. “Don’t wanna get stuck underground and have the hydraulics go on us then. Too many people have been buried alive.”

  “It’s not just the generator losing power. How do you expect crops to grow in the greenhouse if you don’t replace the broken glass? This is why we need to move into my ISU,” Adam said.

  Carla shook her head. “My mother would never survive the move.” She sighed and opened her eyes, struggling to her feet. “I’ll go out and search for some.”

  “Can you carry it?” Adam asked.

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  She hobbled to the front door, taking a last glance toward her mother’s bedroom before going outside. The wind was calm and the sky was clear, but the cold still hit Carla harder than any punch could. No amount of focused breathing could keep her body from shivering uncontrollably. She slipped to the ground, but Adam quickly pulled her back up.

  Plenty of villagers braved the cold, gathering together between the ISUs. Every man, woman and child had grown larger to some degree after their Blast injections, their ripped, too-small clothing a clear indication that nobody had been ready for the added bulk their bodies formed. Despite the rare lack of wind, whining echoed from a nearby ISU, which continued to rise and then lower several feet, never quite making it all the way underground or all the way to the surface. It had been stuck in limbo for days, its hydraulic system failing over and over but not shutting down completely.

  The sound caused an unscratchable itch at the back of Carla’s mind, so constant and annoying that she had trouble focusing and felt a need to explode.

  “Somebody needs to go inside and lower it already,” a villager growled nearby. “Smash the hydraulics if they need to.”

  “And get stuck inside?” another asked. “You volunteering for that job, genius?”

  “Who you calling a genius?” the first villager asked, puffing his chest as he approached the other man.

  “You,” the other man growled, standing up straighter, snarling.

  Both villagers bared their teeth and raised their clawed hands, slowly circling one another as other villagers backed away, panting loudly in anticipation. Carla felt a strange, instinctual desire to see the two villagers rip each other apart, but she forced those feelings aside and focused on her humanity as she hurried between them.

  “Let them handle their own business,” Adam muttered behind her.

  “Who lives in there?” Carla asked the two men.

  Their sneers turned on her, but both men began to calm.

  “Dubuque,” one of them said. “But he’s probably dead. Ain’t seen him for days. I doubt he’d sit in there and do nothing while his ISU yo-yo’ed like that.”

  “If its hydraulics are constantly running, the power unit will fail soon enough,” Carla said. “I want to destroy it, too, but killing each other isn’t going to help. If you have enough energy to fight, you have enough energy to help me find some greenhouse glass and install it on my mother’s ISU.”

  The two men glared at each other a final time before one turned away and snorted.

  “Get your own damn glass,” he said. “I have my own repairs to do.”

  The other villager also turned away, rejoining the crowd nearby. Though a few of the villagers continued to growl their complaints, most stood silently in place, looking up at the sky as more clouds rolled in.

  “Everyone’s got their own problems,” he told Carla. “I can’t miss out on spotting any of The Mountain’s drones. We haven’t seen one for a while, so we need to make sure we get their attention if one shows up.”

  “We need another injection!” one of the villagers yelled to no one in particular.

  Carla called out to the group, asking them if anyone had an extra pane of glass. The few people that bothered to reply did so with a shake of the head. She glanced back at Adam, who now leaned against the door to her mother’s ISU. He barely seemed able to remain upright and Carla knew he’d be worthless to help her search.

  She hobbled across the village, her energy quickly draining. More and more ISUs had failed in recent weeks, causing the village to look emptier than it had in years. Carla stopped to rest several times, running across other villagers in just as bad shape as she was, some friendlier than others, some still staring at her in disgust and muttering about how her ‘Jonas boyfriend’ would never let anything bad happen to her. Carla liked to think Horace was out there somewhere, watching her life, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and rescue her from this frozen hell. But she’d moved on and The Mountain made it clear that no villager would ever be invited back inside.

  Carla felt sparks of anger for those villagers that failed to see her suffering beside them, but the sight of several dead bodies scattered around the village—ignored and unburied—snapped her back to reality. She tried—and failed—not to look too closely at their strange, swollen faces, eyes wide open and unstaring, forever frozen in fear, unsure whether they’d died as a human or an animal or both. Carla hadn’t looked in a mirror for years, but every time she saw the face of a fellow former human, she was reminded of what she’d become by accepting that injection.

  Life, she reminded herself. That’s what I accepted. Life by any means necessary, and that’s what I need to focus on now.

  When she reached the nearest supply bunker, Carla was too exhausted to descend the steps. She plopped down in the snow near the top and slid her way down, each step jostling her entire body. Luckily, the cold had numbed her to any pain and her added layer of fat cushioned each impact. A single light flickered in the supply bunker, shrouding most of the shelves in shadow, just enough light to show that no relevant supplies remained. Carla sighed and felt the urge to cry, though she couldn’t muster the strength to produce tears. Instead, she sat with her back against the wall and closed her eyes, thinking that if she fell asleep here and now, she’d never wake up, not certain she cared if that were the case. . .

  If I’m going to die, I’m not going to be alone, she thought, pulling herself back up, summoning the energy to trudge back up the stairs. For a moment, she looked in the opposite direction of her ISU, wondering if the supply bunker in the next sector might have the glass needed to fix her mother’s greenhouse or the parts needed to repair the power unit. I wouldn’t be able to carry them even if the bunker had anything left.

  Carla exhaled long and slow, a feeling of acceptance washing over her. During her years in ISU-Ville, she’d spent every wak
ing moment—and many sleeping moments, too—with her stomach in knots about how she’d survive each day, each week, each month. Now that she accepted survival being impossible, she took the deepest, sweetest breath she’d had in years. Carla scanned the frozen white world, marveling at its beauty rather than cringing at its cruel harshness. She couldn’t imagine the millions of people across the globe who’d already succumbed to the snow and cold, but there was something comforting knowing she’d soon join them.

  I only hope death is warmer, she thought with a smile.

  She hobbled back across the village, smiling and nodding to the beastly humans she passed, receiving sneers and snarls and looks of confusion in return. Back at her mother’s ISU, she saw the same villagers scanning the same area of sky. Not a drone was to be found, not that it would be easy to spot with the snows beginning to fall. Carla scanned the villagers for any sight of Adam, but he wasn’t among them, nor was he in the same spot near her mother’s front door where she’d left him.

  Dread washed through her and the thought of spending her final moments alone popped into her mind. With the little energy she had left, Carla rushed to her door and pushed it open. She found Adam inside, leaning against the wall beneath the heater vent, which whined and blew air only slightly less cold than the wind outside.

  “You found nothing,” he said.

  “What does it matter anyway?” Carla said. “If we fixed the greenhouse glass, we wouldn’t have enough time to grow more food. If we found more parts to fix the power unit, it would only break again in a few days or weeks.”

  Adam snorted. “I can’t believe you’ve finally given up.”

  Silence lingered for the next few seconds and Carla’s eyes turned toward the rear of the ISU. She’d looked down the hallway countless times over the years, but something seemed different about it now. The quiet felt overwhelming and time stretched slowly as she waited for—and prayed for—the sound of coughing.

  “Did you check on my mother since I’ve been gone?” Carla asked.

  “Soon after you left,” Adam said. “I’m sorry, but she’d already stopped before I came back in.”

  “Stopped. . . coughing?” Carla asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  Adam shook his head. “Stopped breathing.”

  Carla had expected to feel overwhelming sadness, or bitterness, or anger; instead, she felt emptiness. The short hallway suddenly appeared as long as a tunnel and Carla barely had the strength to stumble toward the bedroom. Before pushing open the door, she glanced back, hoping to see Adam behind her, hoping to have a person to lean on and a shoulder to cry on. He hadn’t budged from his spot near the front of the ISU.

  Marshall wouldn’t have made me do this alone, she thought, bitterness finally creeping in. I mean Horace. . .

  Inside the bedroom, the sheet covering Carla’s mother no longer moved. She stared at it for several minutes just to make certain. Sighing deeply, Carla hobbled to her mother’s bedside and lay down beside her, resting her head against her mother’s, hoping that whatever afterlife existed would allow her parents to be together again. For that matter, she hoped all three of them would see each other soon.

  Horace popped into her mind again and she wondered what would’ve become of her life had she gone with him. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself had she abandoned her mother after her father’s death, but not being here for her mother’s last breath almost made these last few years seem like they’d been for naught. Carla closed her eyes and felt herself drifting away, possibly to the infinite blackness. She felt an utter lack of desire to say a last goodbye to Adam. . .

  Before unconsciousness washed over her, Carla heard the distant sound of yelling. The ISU’s walls were thin enough for the shrillest of wind noise to permeate, but it was rare that any other sounds—especially those made by villagers—could be heard. She tried to suppress her curiosity and the noise faded after nearly a minute. Her mind began to fade again when she heard another human voice, this one much closer.

  “Carla,” Adam called out weakly. “Carla, something’s happening!”

  Carla found herself annoyed by the weakness in his cries. For such a big man-beast, Adam’s presence was woefully underwhelming. She felt sickened by the mere thought of being close to him in her final hours, to the point where she rolled out of bed and lumbered across the room, determined to send him away once and for all. But when she entered the hall, Adam no longer leaned against the wall.

  He stood in front of the open front door, bitter wind swirling inside, any residual warmth from the power unit being sucked out of the ISU. Carla opened her mouth to complain but realized she no longer had to worry about such things. Adam didn’t seem like he’d listen to her anyway. He stared outside, lifting his arm to point to a group of villagers gathered beyond the ISU. Carla’s first thought was that another fight had broken out, but Adam’s next words came at the exact moment Carla spotted a line of vehicles emerging through the snowfall.

  “We’re saved,” Adam mumbled.

  He stumbled outside, not waiting for Carla or looking back to see if she’d heard. Carla leaned against the wall, watching Adam join the rest of the villagers as they gathered together. She considered heading to the front door, slamming it shut and pushing the button to engage the hydraulics, lowering the ISU a final time so she could sleep in peace forever. Instead, she glanced back at the bedroom door and knew deep down that she’d never see her mother again. But it was her father’s voice she heard in her mind, her father urging her to go outside, to seek whatever possible opportunity to survive, no matter how remote.

  Carla thought about dressing in more layers, but she didn’t have the strength. Instead, she hobbled outside, not glancing back at her ISU a single time, the wind howling loudly but not enough to drown out excitement from the villagers waving toward the line of vehicles.

  “I knew The Mountain wouldn’t leave us to die,” said one of the villagers, a man that normally spoke about ISU-Ville’s doom to anyone who’d listen.

  His sentiment was echoed by several others, including Adam, who waved toward the newcomers with more gusto than any other villager in the crowd. Carla felt a growl forming in the back of her throat. She opened her mouth to question why Adam hadn’t summoned this newfound energy to help her find ISU replacement parts, but her focus turned in the same direction as everyone else.

  “The Mountain has never sent so many vehicles before,” Carla said, the warning springing from her mouth before she had a chance to consider why she was so nervous. “We should be careful.”

  “If you’re so worried, leave,” another villager snapped at her. “We’ll take your injection if you don’t want it.”

  Carla began to take a few steps back, but Adam reached out and grabbed her wrist. His eyes pled with her to stay, though she’d never been more certain that she wanted to be away from him forever. Still, there was no escaping the vehicles speeding toward them and Carla couldn’t imagine they were bringing a fate worse than the death she was about to accept. More villagers trickled into the crowd and watched the line of vehicles skidding to a stop.

  Carla scanned the vehicles for Samuel Jonas, who’d been present for every other round of injections. But only armed guards emerged now, led by a squat, ugly man sneering at the sight of the villagers.

  “Line up for your new injections,” Moretti ordered them. “This one is stronger and should last longer.”

  “How much longer?” Carla asked.

  “I’m no scientist, but they told me it’ll be the last one you ever need.”

  Excited murmurs circulated among the crowd. Many villagers began to jostle their way toward the front.

  “Is it safe?” Carla called out.

  “Why? You got better options?” Moretti asked.

  “It’s just that there’s been side effects from the other—”

  “Bring her to me!” Moretti yelled. A few of his security guards raised their weapons and started forward, but Moretti held up
a hand to stop them. “Not any of you! I want them to bring her to me.”

  All eyes turned on Carla, who backed up but bumped into a pair of villagers behind her. Hands clamped down on her arms. She instinctively snapped at her captors, but they snapped right back. Common sense told her that fighting would not end well for her; exhaustion told her the same. Still, Carla wriggled in their grasp as she was dragged to the front.

  “Samuel Jonas would never make you do this. . . he’d never make any of you do this,” she told the villagers, none of whom made eye contact with her. “Adam. Adam! Don’t let them do this to me.”

  She scanned the faces in the crowd and thought she caught a glimpse of her boyfriend, but his head was turned the other way, looking at the ground. Carla’s captors deposited her in front of the first vehicle. Carla collapsed to her knees, feigning weakness as she kept her head hung low, adrenaline-fueled anger coursing through her. She lifted her eyes just enough to see Moretti coming her way.

  “It appears we have our first volunteer,” he said with a chuckle.

  Carla waited until he got closer and then exploded to her feet, her teeth bared, her mind telling her one thing and one thing only: rip his throat out. Before she took a single step toward him, a lone voice in the crowd called out ‘no!’ as a dozen guards behind Moretti aimed their guns at Carla. She froze and stared into Moretti’s eyes, seeing utter disgust staring back at her and not an ounce of fear.

  “Back on your knees,” Moretti ordered.

  When Carla hesitated, a pair of guards took a step forward, their guns leveled at her head. With a sigh, Carla followed the order. Moretti approached, crouching down so his face was level with hers.

  “Did you really think I’d let a filthy beast threaten me? Did you really think I’d let you attack me and leave my son fatherless?” he whispered. “Did you really think a Moretti would enter a clan of beasts without proper backup?”

  Carla didn’t answer. Moretti shifted uncomfortably close, his eyes widening, their faces separated by inches. Carla tried looking away—even turning her attention to the drone that now hovered overhead—but Moretti didn’t budge. Carla finally shook her head.