Extinct

by Hamill, Ike

  “This is fantastic,” Brad said.

  “Thanks,” Robby said. “It’s one of the few things I cook well.”

  “I’ll say,” Judy said. She and Robby shared a smile. Brad couldn’t tell if her statement was a compliment, or a light-hearted jab.

  “So did you guys wait to talk about how we got here?” Robby asked through a mouthful of food.

  “Yes, are we waiting for Ted too?” Brad asked. “Judy said we should all be here, but I’m dying to know what you guys know.”

  Robby nodded as he chewed. He wiped his mouth and set down his fork before he replied.

  “No, we don’t have to wait for Ted,” Robby said. He pushed away from the table and went to the counter to grab three bottles of water. After he drank, he told Brad and Judy his story.

  Judy nodded at all the right spots, but it was clear she’d heard it all dozens of times. Brad listened closely to Robby’s account of Thanksgiving on the island. The boy’s story seemed to have coherent details and no exaggeration, but it was hard to take everything Robby said as a gospel truth. Brad wondered how much of the story was colored by Robby’s age and lack of experience. Robby told everything, including how he met Judy and the days leading up to the dinner they all were currently sharing.

  Brad quickly understood the wisdom of this approach. With Robby’s entire story told from his perspective, there was no blended viewpoint. When Judy began, she told all of her details even though some of her story shared many of the same elements as Robby’s. They both told of snowstorms, TV and radio broadcasts fading to static, and people disappearing. She attempted to drive south, but turned back when she found all the wrecked-car corpses lining the roads.

  “I wasn’t scared,” she said deliberately. “I wasn’t. I mean I wasn’t scared of the dead bodies, but I thought there was probably some plague or something that infected everyone down there. I figured it would be safer to come back here. Everyone was gone here, but at least there weren’t dead bodies everywhere.”

  Brad nodded. Robby stopped eating while he listened to her account.

  “I saw a couple of people who looked like their eyes had burst,” Brad said. “It was like they’d been exposed to low pressure or something, and their eyes just popped out. I mean, not popped, but burst.” They sat for a second before he spoke again. They all nudged their plates away. “I’m sorry, you were right in the middle of your story.”

  Judy picked up the thread again with how she returned to her apartment and figured out how to survive. After a few weeks, she met Robby in the grocery store. Here, apart from the times they’d been alone, her story and Robby’s were fairly identical. They both had sketchy descriptions of their daily activities. Brad sensed plenty of room in there to hide many details, but he didn’t probe with questions.

  When Judy and Robby turned to Brad for his side of the story, he started immediately after the explosion that woke him up. He left out any account of the casually-dressed government guys, spinning rocks, killer vines, and fugue-like flashbacks. He started with the snow, and how it was almost immediately too deep to make any attempt at escape. The beginning of his story stumbled, but everything flowed better once he started talking about the snowmobile journey.

  Robby didn’t move an inch while Brad talked. As soon as Brad finished, Robby rose, took their plates and headed for the kitchen.

  “I have to at least help with cleanup,” Brad said. He stood and dabbed his mouth with his napkin before dropping it on the chair. Outside, the sun went down, leaving them on a little island of flickering light provided by the candles and heaters.

  “I’ll come too,” Judy said. “I swear he has night vision.”

  Brad followed Judy to the kitchen. They used the glow of the candles and headed for the dark door. Judy fished a small flashlight from her pocket just as a light in the kitchen came on and gave them something to navigate towards.

  In the kitchen, Robby lit a bright lantern and set it on one of the stovetops. On another burner, a big pot held simmering water.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said and pointed as they entered the kitchen.

  Judy nodded as Robby headed towards a back door. Brad saw a dim rectangle of light as Robby let himself out into the evening.

  “Where’s he going?” Brad asked.

  “He means go,” she said. “You know? You want to wash, rinse, or dry?”

  “I’ll take rinse,” Brad said. “Back at the Dead Ferret, I just toss them in a barrel.”

  “The Dead Ferret?” Judy asked. She tested the temperature of the water in the big pot with her finger and then hefted it to the sink.

  “It’s just what I call the house where I’ve been crashing,” he said.

  “Gruesome,” she said, flashing him a thin smile.

  “I’ll call it the D.F. then,” he said. “Seems presumptuous to call it home. I don’t know how long I’ll stay there anyway. Nothing in the closet fits me. I might look around for a place with more light.”

  “You can draw another pot of water from the barrel over there,” she pointed.

  “Is this potable?” Brad asked, eyeing the large white plastic container of water near the door. “I haven’t been washing dishes because I didn’t want to use up a whole lot of good water. I figured it was more precious than the dishes themselves.”

  “We pump our own from a well,” Judy said from the sink. She was scrubbing the syrup from the plates with hot soapy water.

  Brad set the pot down on the floor next to the white tub. A hose came out of the top where a thumbscrew was mounted. When Brad turned the plastic tap, a little water flowed from the hose below. The stream petered out rapidly.

  Robby came through the back door as Brad tried to puzzle out the water barrel. Brad could smell the hand sanitizer Robby rubbed between his young hands.

  “It’s pressurized,” Robby said. “You pump it up here.”

  “Like a keg?” Brad said.

  “I guess,” Robby said.

  Robby followed Brad back to the sink. Brad rinsed the dishes and handed them to Robby to dry. The light from the lantern was bright, but lit everything from behind, so most of their movements happened in the shadows. Robby seemed to see everything and helped Judy and Brad get the dishes perfect before he dried them and set them back on the prep counter.

  “So, you saw a layer of black soot in the snow strata?” Robby asked.

  “In Freeport? Yes,” Brad asked and answered.

  “Tornado?” Judy asked Robby, as the boy hung up the towel.

  “I think so,” Robby said.

  “What’s that?” Brad asked.

  “You remember how I told you about my boat trip?” Robby asked. When Brad nodded, the boy continued—“I saw clusters of tornadoes tearing apart some of the cities along the coast. I’m guessing Yarmouth was one of those. You said you couldn’t see any signs of any buildings in Yarmouth, and you also mentioned a layer of soot in the snow in Freeport. I think when the tornadoes tore apart Yarmouth, they put down a layer of soot in Freeport.”

  “Yeah, I wanted to ask you more about that,” Brad said. “These were sentient tornadoes?”

  “Controlled by something,” Robby said. “Not necessarily intelligent themselves.”

  “Sure,” Brad said. “That makes sense. I mean, it challenges the imagination, but anything’s possible, right?”

  “Given enough energy,” Robby said.

  “I don’t believe that,” Judy said. She folded her arms. “Can we go back in the dining room? It’s cold in here.”

  Robby didn’t reply, but immediately moved towards the door, picking up the lantern on the way. Brad and Judy followed him back to the dining room where the heaters felt pleasant. Judy moved her chair closer to a heater and sat down. Robby put the lantern on a table of one of the booths.

  “Should we close the curtains or something?” Brad asked. He walked over to the booth next to the one where Robby left the lantern. “You could probably see that light from across town.”
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  “We haven’t found anything in town here to be afraid of,” Judy said.

  “Yet,” Brad said. He stared out the window, not sure what he was looking for, but feeling exposed nonetheless.

  “Right. We haven’t found anything to be afraid of yet,” Robby said. “What are you afraid of?”

  Brad spun and faced Robby—“As far as I know, there are only four people left alive in the world. What am I not afraid of would be a better question.”

  “There’s a bigger group of us spread around. You’ll meet everyone the next time we have a big meeting. Come tell us again what happened before the snow fell,” Robby said as he sat down at the table again. He propped his head up on his hand.

  Judy pretended to look over at the flame of the heater, but she watched Brad out of the corner of her eye.

  “Okay,” Brad said. “Not much to tell, really. I was working on a contract. My boss didn’t call me when he was supposed to. It started to snow on Thanksgiving Day, then my internet went down, then TV and radio, and then the power.”

  “Cell phone?” Robby asked.

  “That went out,” Brad started and then stopped. “That went out the same time as the TV and radio.”

  “And you didn’t try to get to town then?” Robby asked.

  “I tried, sure,” Brad said. “But the roads were already too bad to drive. Nothing had been plowed. Besides, I figured nothing would be open on Thanksgiving Day.”

  “How far do you live from Kingston?” Robby asked.

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Brad said. He forced himself to stay seated and return his hands to his lap.

  “We just want to hear as much of your story as we can,” Robby said. “The more we know, the closer we get to figuring this thing out.”

  “Yeah, no pressure,” Judy said. “Just anything you can remember.”

  “Why are you two so convinced that there’s anything more to tell?” Brad asked. “Neither of your stories contained anything particularly interesting before the snow started to fall. Why should my experience have been any different?”

  “One of the guys who I first met in Portland, after I came back north, had been evacuated from Kingston Depot before the snow started,” Robby said. “He said the National Guard moved in almost a week before Thanksgiving and removed everyone.”

  “On the news last fall they downplayed the whole thing,” Judy said. “At least they did at first. They started by saying some people were asked to leave their homes because of a groundwater contamination. Later in the week, just before the storm, there was a story that there was more to it. They showed pictures of Kingston Depot on the news—Army and National Guard trucks were everywhere.”

  “I wasn’t evacuated,” Brad said. “But, then again, I live out in the country. My nearest neighbor is over a mile away.”

  “On the Meadow Road, right?” Robby asked.

  “Yes,” Brad said after a moment.

  Judy nodded—“That’s where they said it started.”

  “I also heard there was a similar thing going on up north of Augusta, but that Kingston Depot was the biggest. My parents never really talked about it. It was just something happening on the news,” Robby said.

  Brad frowned and looked down at his hands.

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “Maybe they didn’t know that I live out there, or maybe I was fine because I don’t have city water. Who knows?”

  “And you didn’t go into town that week, or happen to see the news?” Robby asked.

  “I was busy working,” Brad said. “When I get busy, everything else just falls away. Just ask my ex-wife. She’d tell you, if she were still alive.”

  “There’s a chance she’s still around,” Judy said. “You never know.”

  “No,” Brad said, “she died years ago.”

  They sat through an awkward silence. Brad wanted to change the subject, but knew they might construe that as an admission that he had something to hide. He thought he could feel their eyes on him, but when he finally looked up, Robby and Judy were looking elsewhere.

  “Do you have any theories on what happened?” Robby asked.

  “I don’t think I have enough information for a good theory,” Brad said.

  “Doesn’t have to be informed to be good,” Judy said.

  “The whole thing is just puzzling,” Brad said. “More so now than before I talked to you guys. I thought everyone just left, or evacuated, or whatever. Then, the other day, I saw the corpses for the first time. So I figured some people didn’t make it out. But now you guys are saying that most of the people just disappeared into the sky. Evaporated or at least became invisible, right? Well that puts it right in the realm of some brand new force. Something we’ve never seen or heard of before has now acted upon our neighbors. It’s too much of a coincidence to believe that it doesn’t have anything to do with the coordinated tornadoes or multi-story snowfall. So that means that this new force has powers many times greater than anything we’ve ever heard of.”

  “So you’re thinking aliens,” Robby stated.

  “I didn’t say that,” Brad said. “Just a force.”

  “Or Rapture, right? Why not Rapture?” Judy asked. “Why can’t your great and powerful force be God?”

  “I’m just not a religious person,” Brad said. “That’s always been stuff I was asked to believe with no physical manifestation. When something inherently physical happens, religion is not my first thought.”

  “But it all fits, doesn’t it?" Judy asked. “I’m no Bible scholar, but people disappeared into the sky, and we’re left here with Hell on Earth.”

  Robby took in a deep breath. Brad looked over at the boy and wondered how previous conversations on this subject between Judy and Robby had ended. Robby didn’t look exasperated, but he wasn’t exactly nodding in agreement with Judy’s proposal.

  “So you think we’re the only wicked ones?” Brad asked. “Everyone else ascended?”

  “Perhaps,” Judy said. “Or maybe that part was just misunderstood. Lost in translation, you know? Maybe it’s not about good people get Raptured and the bad people stay here to witness the battle. Maybe God just has another purpose to leave us here on Earth for a while.”

  “So what’s the difference then between my theory and yours? Either way, we’ve got an ultra-powerful force changing the landscape around us. Whether it’s God or not, how does that affect what we do from here?” Brad asked.

  “It changes everything,” Robby said. Something was different about his voice when he spoke these words. Brad looked up at Robby and for the first time wouldn’t have characterized him as a boy—he would have Robby said was a young man. When Brad’s eyes met Robby’s, the young man continued—“Because I’m going to fight it. And if it’s not God, then I’m going to win.”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  BRAD GOT BACK to the D.F.—the Dead Ferret house—a little after nine. After living so long in isolation, he didn’t wanted the conversation to end. It seemed like after they went their separate ways, he would never see Robby and Judy again. Before they left for the night, he helped Robby shut down and refill the heaters, and retrieve the half-full water keg. They strapped it in on the back of the truck next to an empty barrel. Robby could have done the work himself—he had a lift-gate on the back of the truck and used a dolly to move around the barrels, but Brad enjoyed making himself useful after enjoying their hospitality. He made tentative plans with Robby to meet up the next day.

  Judy vanished while Brad and Robby did chores. Brad only saw her again as Robby got in the truck and honked the horn. Brad waved as Judy appeared from across the parking lot and climbed into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t tell for sure at his distance, but in the light from the cab of the truck, it looked like Judy had been crying.

  Brad wondered about that as he walked home.

  Brad slept well that night, feeling that somewhere reasonably close to him other people slept as well. He finished brushi
ng his teeth in the morning and when he heard the horn of the same truck outside the D.F., Brad ran to the window and saw Robby sitting behind the wheel. When he smiled, toothpaste dripped down Brad’s chin and onto his gray sweater. He changed it out for a hooded sweatshirt and dressed as fast as he could. He checked the window several times as he pulled on his coat and boots, hoping Robby wouldn’t get impatient and leave.

  He jogged across the lawn to the beat up old truck.

  “Hi,” Brad said. Waving through the truck’s windshield.

  “Come on in,” Robby said, waving. His voice was drowned out by the truck’s engine.

  Brad slid into the passenger’s seat and wondered if he should offer to drive. Robby looked uncomfortable behind the big steering wheel. When Robby put the truck into reverse, Brad strapped on his seat belt and tried not to look nervous.

  “I thought I’d show you where we get water,” Robby said.

  “Cool,” Brad said.

  “Do you know your way around?” Robby asked.

  “Mostly, sure,” Brad said. “A bit.”

  “There’s a spare map behind your seat,” Robby said.

  Brad reached back and grabbed a magazine-shaped book of local maps. He flipped through the pages and saw several annotated spots. He located his own house and saw it already bore a star and the letters “D.F.”

  “Ha,” Brad barked a laugh. “You’ve marked me.”

  Robby smiled as he turned onto the main road—“Wouldn’t want you to get lost. Check out page D-three, you’ll see where we’re going.”

  “Vyermin Labs on Hardwick Lane?” Brad asked. The map showed a small square and the label for the business. It sat on a small side street, not far from the airport.

  “Yes,” Robby said. “They’re an environmental engineering firm. The facility is on city water, but they’ve also got a deep well with a tremendous capacity. We’ll fill up these barrels in minutes.” Robby pointed to the bed of the truck where Brad saw a half-dozen of the white water kegs.