by Amy Cross
“What the fuck is that?” I ask.
“Holly,” says Pierce, “do you know where this piece of metal came from?”
There's no answer for a moment. “There was lots of metal,” she says eventually.
“When?” Pierce asks.
“When the plane crashed,” she says blankly.
Pierce swallows hard. “You were close to where the plane crashed?”
“Yeah,” she says. “There was lots of metal flying everywhere”.
“Did you feel any pain in the back of your head?” he asks.
“I don't know,” she says. “I guess so. Maybe”.
Pierce and I stand there, just staring at the metal. There's no way of knowing how far into her head it goes, but it's hard not to assume that this is the reason why she seems so... blank and placid.
“Want me to try to get it out?” Pierce asks.
“No!” I say, grabbing his arm. “You can't mess around with stuff like this!”
Pierce pulls his arm away from me. “It's not your call. It's hers. If I had a big fucking piece of metal in my head, I'd want it out. How can it make things worse?” He leans closer to Holly. “Holly, do you want me to see if I can get it out for you? It might make you more yourself if I do”.
“Okay,” she says.
“She doesn't know what she's saying,” I tell Pierce, but he's clearly not interested. “Pierce, she can't make her own decisions”.
“Exactly!” he says. “That's exactly why she needs this thing out, so she can stop being such a fucking vegetable!”
I look away for a moment. “You don't know what you're doing,” I say.
“I'm taking a piece of metal out of her head,” he replies. “It's the humane thing to do”.
I take a deep breath, and when I turn back I see that Pierce has positioned himself being Holly and is reaching slowly for the piece of metal.
“This might hurt a bit,” he says, his fingers almost touching the metal. “But I think once it's out, you'll be yourself again and you can get better, okay?”
There's a pause. “Okay,” Holly says.
Pierce takes a deep breath. He glances up at me for a moment, then focuses on the metal. Slowly, his fingers take hold of it.
“You okay, Holly?” he asks.
“I'm okay,” she says.
Pierce nods, and I see him silently mouth a countdown. “There, two, one...” and then he starts to pull on the piece of metal, which slides out just a fraction of an inch before Holly leaps forward, screaming in pain and clutching her head. She falls to the ground, still screaming, and as she rolls over she starts to vomit.
I look at Pierce, who seems frozen in shock, his eyes wide and staring ahead, his hands still in the position they were in when he touched the metal.
“Fuck!” I shout, running over to Holly, who is writhing in agony.
“Get it off! Get it off!” she screams.
“It'll be okay,” I say, trying to soothe her, but she's uncontrollable. As she rolls around, she's jagging the metal on the ground, causing herself even more pain. There's also blood coming from the wound now.
“Do something,” I say to Pierce. I look over at him, but he's still frozen. “Fucking do something!” I shout.
He stumbles over to us, but he doesn't seem to know what to do. “Should I pull it out?” he asks.
“I don't know,” I say as Holly continues to scream.
“Should I push it back in?” he asks, staring at me wide-eyed, hoping I'll give him the right answer.
“I don't fucking know,” I say. “Just do something!”
Holly lets out a louder scream, then she suddenly stops rolling around. She looks up at me, and I realise that the pupil of one of her eyes is massively dilated, while the other is tiny like a pinprick. I look down at her, trying to think of what would be the best thing to do, and then I'm overcome by a growing realisation that she isn't moving.
“Holly?” I ask softly.
Her mouth moves a little, as if she's trying to say something.
“What is it?” I ask, glancing up at Pierce, who seems completely shocked and unable to do a damn thing.
“I...” she stammers, “I... I...” Her voice is so quiet, I can hardly hear her, so I lean in closer and she whispers again. “I... I think I pissed myself,” she says.
I take her hand. “It's okay,” I say, but even as I say the words, I see her expression change and moments later I realise that was the moment she died. Slowly, like they do in films, I reach down and close her eyes, then I let go of her hand and sit back.
“I killed her,” Pierce says, staring at her body.
“No you didn't,” I say. “You were just trying to help”.
“If I hadn't tried to help,” he says slowly, “she'd still be alive”.
“You didn't kill her,” I say. “The plane killed her, when it crashed and exploded. She was hit in the head by a bit of metal, that's what killed her. You just tried to save her, and...” My voice tails off. I'm not even sure what I think. The truth is, Pierce kind of did kill her. He assumed he could help, and he didn't think about the possible consequences.
Pierce nods slowly. “We need to sleep,” he says. “We need rest for tomorrow”.
“We should bury her first,” I say.
“What's the point,” he replies. “It's just a body”.
“We should show some respect,” I say.
“There's no point,” he says.
“We're doing it!” I fix him with a harsh stare, and I try to stop myself from crying, even though my voice is definitely trembling. “This time you're going to listen to me and we're going to bury her”.
We dig a shallow grave, just enough to roll Holly's body in and cover her with dirt. When I say 'we', I mainly mean 'I', because Pierce barely helps. He just seems totally stunned that he was the one who caused her death, even if his intentions were wholly good. All the cockiness and arrogance that I disliked about him has gone, replaced by... I'm not sure yet, but he's a lot quieter.
“Should we say something?” he asks when we've finished covering her up.
“Like what?” I ask. I turn to him. “You Christian?”
He snorts. “Fuck no. You?”
I stare at Holly's grave. “I don't know,” I say.
“That's a fucking stupid answer,” Pierce says. “If there's a God, why did all this happen?”
I shrug, then I look around at the darkness that surrounds us. In the moonlight, I can barely see Pierce properly. It feels like we're so alone out here. And finally I realise that no-one's coming to rescue us. We have to rescue ourselves. That's what I'm thinking about as I finally manage to fall asleep after Pierce and I move on a few hundred metres away from Holly's body.
The next morning, when I wake up, Pierce is gone.
Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff
I have already talked about Emma. She was a wonderful friend to me, and I often wonder what has happened to her now. But I haven't really talked about Pierce, mainly because I didn't know him so well. But Pierce was an important figure in my life and, despite what happened later, he was a good person. I have always been a good judge of character, and I remember very clearly my first meeting with Pierce. I was instantly put at ease, and that was a feeling that always stayed with me. No matter what he did, no matter how cruel he might have become, I always felt that at heart he was still a well-meaning soul who merely became corrupted.
Of course, that's not an opinion you'll hear many other people mention. Even today, long after his death, Pierce's name causes great anger and pain for many people. They focus on what he did, not who he was, and they do not consider the circumstances that led to such a tragedy. Perhaps, after all this time, people could open their minds and remember that Pierce was just a human being, with all the strengths and weaknesses that the rest of us have. If his weaknesses eventually overwhelmed him, that doesn't mean that he was a bad person, or that he is undeserving of our sympathies.
And
that is all I have to say about Pierce.
Chapter 6
JUST A DOT ON THE HORIZON
It takes me a couple of hours to catch up to Pierce. Having guessed that he'd have carried on heading to New York, I walk along the highway in the direction that I assume he's headed. Sure enough, after walking as fast as I can, I eventually spot a figure on the horizon ahead of me, and as I get closer I realise that it's definitely Pierce. Although I'm annoyed with him for not waiting for me, I decide not to call out to him, in case he runs off. I simply make sure I walk faster than him, and eventually I'm coming up right behind him.
“Morning,” I say.
He doesn't turn to greet me at all. “Morning,” he says coldly.
“So your plan was to just abandon me back there, right?” I ask.
He doesn't reply immediately, but when he does, his tone of voice is full of indignation. “If I wanted to abandon you, don't you think I'd have done a better job?” He casts a quick glance at me. “On the other hand, if I wanted to scare you and give you a hurry-up, I'd say I've been pretty successful”.
“I don't need you,” I say. “You realise that, right? I can walk wherever I want without you. Okay?”
“Do it,” he says. “I don't care”.
Looking ahead, I spot something black on the road, a little dot on the horizon. Ignoring it, I turn to Pierce. “I'm sorry you feel responsible for Holly's death -”
“I don't,” he interrupts. “It's not my fault a fucking jet liner crashed next to her”.
“Okay,” I say. “Just so long as you don't have any baggage about this”.
“No,” he says sarcastically, “of course I don't”. We walk a few more steps, then he turns, grabs my shoulders and starts shouting at me. “Look at us! Look where we are! We're in the middle of fucking nowhere”.
I pull away. I guess my parents were right about him all along. He's definitely a little weird, and he's clearly not the most stable person ever.
“I'm sorry,” he says, calming down. “But fuck, did you see what happened to her? Do you know what it felt like to slide that little piece of metal out of her brain?” He stares at me, waiting for me to say something. “Just as she started screaming, I felt the metal snag on something,” he says. “Like I caught something in her head. I fucking felt that”.
Right about now would be a good time to give him a hug, except I'm not sure I really want to get too close. So instead, I nod sympathetically and try to think of something comforting to say.
“What the fuck's that?” Pierce says, stopping and looking straight ahead.
I look at the road and see the black thing I noticed earlier, except this time it's clear that it's a human, collapsed on the ground.
“Let's just walk around him,” Pierce says, shifting his path to avoid the person.
“What if he's hurt?” I say as we get closer.
“The last thing he needs is us pair of amateur medics,” Pierce says.
As we come alongside the man, I stop. “We should check if he's okay”.
“You don't get it, do you?” says Pierce, stopping next to me. “It's every man for himself out here now. We don't have the time to help this guy. We don't have the means. It's all pot luck whether we make things better or worse for him”.
“So if you were in his position,” I say, “you'd want us to keep walking?”
“Of course I fucking wouldn't,” Pierce says, “but we can't keep doing stuff like this. We're not a fucking charity”.
I walk over to the man, who seems to have fallen in a crumpled heap. He's not moving, and to be honest I'm not even sure if he's alive. Dressed in what looks like a business suit, with greying hair and the beginnings of a bald spot, he seems to be a fairly well-heeled middle-aged guy. So how did he end up here, like this?
“Hello!” I say. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing. No sound. No movement.
“Hello?” I say again.
“Great,” says Pierce, who hasn't come over yet. “Another stiff. Come on, let's go. We haven't got time to bury every corpse we find”.
“Wait,” I say, moving around the body to get a better look. I stare at his face, which is battered and ripped. “He's alive,” I say, spotting some movements in his eyelids.
“I don't care what he is,” Pierce says. “Let's keep going”.
Ignoring Pierce, I kneel down by the man.
“Can you hear me?” I ask. As I do so, I hear Pierce stepping close behind me.
The man slowly rolls onto his book. He looks up at us, his eyes clearly struggling to focus. “Don't let them... Don't... let them... get you...”
Pierce looks at me for a moment, then back down at the man. “Who? Don't let who get us?”
“They'll... turn you into... one of them...” the old man stammers. “They'll take you away and....” He coughs up a load of blood. “They'll take you away and... burn you with the air”.
“What are you talking about?” Pierce asks.
The old man just looks at us, and it's clear that he's struggling to breathe.
“What the fuck are you talking about”? Pierce shouts, grabbing the old man's collar and pulling him up close. “What?!?”
The old man smiles slightly. “Don't go to the city. There aren't so many of them out here... Not yet”.
“What are they?” Pierce shouts at him.
The old man takes a deep breath. “anarchists,” he sighs, then his head falls back and he lets out one final groan before he goes completely limp and Pierce, frustrated, lets go of him.
“What the fuck are anarchists?” Pierce asks, turning to me.
I shake my head. “How the fuck should I know?” I look at the road ahead of us. “But I don't think we should go to the city. Not if this is what happens there”.
“So where do you want to go?” Pierce asks. “You wanna go home and wait to die?”
“I don't know,” I say. I sigh. “Fuck it, Pierce, I don't know where we are, or where we're going, or what we're going to do. I don't even know what's happening. Why's it so dangerous in the city?”
“People,” Pierce says, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice. “People are fucking sick, that's what. It's probably chaos in the city. People are probably killing and looting. It's probably a complete breakdown of social order”. He grins. “You don't wanna go take a look?”
“No way,” I say. “You can go if you want, but not me”.
He stares at me. “So you won't go to the city with me?”
I shake my head.
“Fine,” he says, turning and pointing at a set of road signs ahead of us. “Morristown, 15 miles,” he reads. “Morristown's a town, not a city. We'll go there”.
“What difference does that make?” I ask.
“Loads,” Pierce says. “It's probably safer than New York, plus they have a great public library. If we can't use the internet, we'll just have to go and take a look at some books”.
“I'm not risking my life just to go look at some books,” I say.
“Think about it,” he says. “Maps, guidebooks, medical stuff, everything we might need to know. I went to Morristown loads as a kid, the public library is brilliant. Look at us, what we need is information”.
I take a deep breath. I have to admit, he's kind of right. But still, the idea of going to a town seems risky, especially now that we've found this dead old man.
“The first sign of trouble,” I say, “and we turn back”.
Pierce nods.
“If we find another dead old man,” I continue, “we turn back”.
“Sure,” he says, even though he clearly doesn't really mean it. “And,” he says, smiling, “we can probably load up on stuff we need. Not just books, but guns and knives. Things we can defend ourselves with”.
I shake my head. “No guns, please”.
“Really?” he says. “The stuff you've seen in the past few days, and you're totally against the idea of us being able to defend ourselves?”
I think about it for a moment. “Okay,” I say with a heavy heart. “We'll go to Morristown library. And maybe we'll grab some guns if we can”.
Pierce looks out over the horizon. “It's worse than I thought,” he says. “Things are falling apart faster and harder than I anticipated”. He turns to me. “Electricity is like fire. It's how civilization stays together. And now look at us. Turning back into fucking apes”.
Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff
I'm dying tonight. I can feel it in my bones. It's a kind of tiredness that is very different to any I've felt before. So I know my time is come, and I have but a few hours to get everything in order. I have so much more to say: about the Great Disaster; about my family; about my 96 years on this Earth; about God and chaos; about Emma; about Pierce; about the anarchists. But I don't have time to get it all written down, not with these frail old hands. Sitting here in my dark room, with the sun almost down, I have very little light left, and I don't think I will survive until the sun comes up again. So I turn to the window and I say goodbye not only to the sun, but to light itself.
Fortunately, there is a full moon tonight and a cloudless sky. Never before have I been so grateful for a last little vestige of light, silently coming through the window of my bedroom. There is enough – just enough – for me to be able to see. Sure, I'll probably be straining my eyes. But at my point in life, that's unimportant. The things in my head, though; the thoughts and memories I still have after so long; those are important. And tonight is my last chance – ever – to ensure that history does not forget my story.
In brief: I was born in Morristown in the early 21st century, to Andrew and Stephanie Hoff. My brother Russell was a decade older than me, and I had a few other siblings about whom I care and remember little. As I have already stated, my brother Russell died after the Great Disaster hit when I was six years old, and his death left a great impression on me. I subsequently lived all my life in Morristown, partly because I felt I could not leave the place where my brother's ghost might still dwell, and partly because the idea of uprooting and moving seemed so momentous now that even a simple journey can take many days.
