Extinct

by Hamill, Ike

“Take a right up here. It’s faster,” Romie said.

  They bounced along in silence for a little while. Every so often, usually during a turn, they could hear the bodies shift around in the back of the truck. Romie guided Brad to pull up next to a giant restaurant. He backed the rear of the truck up near the doors and they climbed out.

  Romie opened the front door of the restaurant and held it open until Brad dragged a sign with a metal base over to prop it open. They repeated the process with the interior door. This time Brad used a chair. Romie strapped on a headlamp and started off to the right, but Brad just stood there at the door. He didn’t like the way the light from the doors seemed to die out so quickly.

  The restaurant was huge and almost industrial-looking to Brad. The red and purple swirls of the carpet were probably designed to hide stains, but they also confused Brad’s eyes. The panels of the high drop-ceiling looked dusty and old, even from a distance.

  “Come on,” Romie said from her little pool of light, “there are two over here.”

  Brad put on his own headlamp and joined his partner.

  “Let’s get this fat one first,” Romie said. “I swear my back’s never going to make it to the end of the day.”

  Romie flipped up the tablecloth and grabbed the man’s ankles while Brad worked his hands into the man’s armpits. They lifted at the same time and started a slow shuffle towards the door. The guy looked fat, but he wasn’t too heavy. Brad and Romie had no trouble getting him to the lift-gate. With him loaded, they went back for the woman at the table.

  “I used to come at least once a month,” Romie said as they slung the woman up into the bed of the truck. “It’s a pretty good value if you stay long enough.”

  “Why?” Brad asked. The lady-corpse had long hair, and Brad had already stepped on it twice. He dragged her to the front of the truck by her feet so it fanned out behind her.

  “Value? Because they only bring out the good stuff once every couple of hours. Crab legs? Forget it. You have to be here for a while before you’re going to see any of those. It’s like they know I’m coming and they only bring out the good stuff just before I show up. It’s all gone by the time I get my seat,” Romie said.

  They followed their headlamps back inside, past the table where they’d found the first couple. Romie walked between two long buffet stations and then stopped. Brad almost ran into her back.

  “Something’s been here,” she said. Her voice was low—nearly a whisper.

  “Like what? An animal?” Brad asked.

  “You tell me,” Romie said. She turned to the side so Brad could see. In front of her, on the floor, sat a rough pile of chicken wings. Next to those, Brad saw several egg rolls littered on the carpet. Romie scanned the big room with her headlamp, but the meager light couldn’t reveal much of the room. Romie dug around in her pocket and pulled out a little flashlight. That was better, but Brad didn’t see much more than round tables to the left and square ones to the right.

  He looked back to where the door stood out as a bright white rectangle of light. Suddenly those dozen paces seemed far away.

  “Let’s hurry up so we can get out of here,” Romie said.

  Brad slipped between two of the buffet units and crossed the walkway to the tables. Before rounding the first table, he tripped and landed on his hands and knees. Looking back, he saw black pants and a white jacket—he’d tripped over a fallen waiter. The waiter’s outstretched arm offered a pitcher of spilled water.

  “I got one here on the floor,” Brad said to Romie, who stopped on the far side of the table.

  Brad flipped the waiter’s torso and grabbed him under the armpits. He glanced down at the face and then looked away, but the image burned into his vision. The corpse’s eyes had exploded just like the rest, but he had no sign of gore on his cheeks. The waiter had big, white teeth though. He had a rack of giant, white, piano-key teeth. When Romie finally lifted the waiter’s dead legs, Brad got up the nerve to look back down. His lips were missing—that’s why Brad could see the corpse’s teeth so well. Something had taken the lips and part of the cheek. The edge of the wound was jagged, but clean. No blood or gore stained the rest of the skin.

  Romie let out a yelp and dropped the legs. The body slumped and tugged on Brad’s shoulders, but he kept his grip. At least he kept it until he looked where Romie’s headlamp was pointing. She was staring at the corpse’s groin. There, the black pants had been pulled down a bit. The waiter’s white skin nearly matched the tone of the white jacket he wore. In the low light, Brad understood why neither of them had noticed earlier. But in the groin area, the white ended. There Brad could see the stringy, shiny edges of muscle where the skin and sex organs had been removed.

  Brad dropped the corpse’s shoulders and backed up.

  “There’s something in here with us,” Romie whispered. She whipped her headlamp around the room.

  “Over here,” Brad said. “We’ll go together. Back-to-back.”

  Romie stepped over the mutilated corpse and joined Brad. They matched steps and moved towards the door.

  Brad saw the shadow first. When Brad stopped moving behind her, Romie turned her head and saw it too. Something standing just to the right of the doors cast a fuzzy shadow on the pavement between the restaurant and the truck. Brad thought about the gun tucked safely in the glove compartment of the truck.

  “Out the back?” Brad whispered.

  “Fuck that,” Romie said.

  As if they’d agreed, they resumed moving towards the doors. Brad scanned the area surrounding the door for anything he could use as a weapon. He found nothing. Brad led the way and the two side-stepped through the doors. Outside, a short, stocky man stood a couple of paces from the back of the truck.

  “Hello?” Brad asked.

  The man didn’t reply. He flipped his bangs to the side, reached up with a grimy finger and rubbed his teeth. Romie passed behind Brad and moved towards the driver’s side of the truck as the two men stared at each other. Brad lost the staring contest. His eyes darted to his right, to the gaping black hole that was the entrance to the Chinese restaurant.

  “Can I help you?” Brad asked.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked. His voice was so low that Brad could barely hear him. He slurred the four words together into one.

  Brad took a second to reply. “We’re clearing out the bodies,” he said, gesturing to the back of the truck.

  “For whom?” the man asked.

  “What’s your name?” Brad asked. “My name is Brad.”

  “And I’m Romie,” she said. She circled around the truck and around the dirty man. Brad spotted the handgun she held at her side.

  They waited for the man’s response. His eyes seemed to take inventory of the scene, darting around from place to place, again and again.

  “Nate,” he said, finally.

  “Nice to meet you, Nate,” Brad said. “Are you here alone? I mean, do you live with anyone else.”

  “Yes,” Nate said.

  “Which?” Brad asked.

  Nate shook his head from side-to-side violently. He shook it so hard that Brad could hear the man’s cheeks flapping against his teeth. Romie took a half step back but kept the gun pointed only at the pavement.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to anyone. I must look like a crazy person.”

  “No,” Brad said, “not at all. But you did startle us a bit because we only saw your shadow at first.”

  “Sorry,” Nate said. “You never answered my question—for whom are you clearing out the bodies?”

  “Oh,” Brad said. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re clearing them out for everyone, I guess. We thought it would be…” he trailed off, not knowing how much he should tell the dirty man.

  “Respectful,” Romie said from her position. She kept her distance. Brad moved a little closer to Nate as they talked.

  “Yes, that’s a good word for it,” Brad said. “It’s the least we c
ould do.”

  “I’m not sure I understand the point,” Nate said.

  Romie and Brad exchanged a glance.

  “Maybe we should be on our way,” Brad said. “I’m guessing we’ll see you around.”

  “Probably not,” Nate said. “It’s been months and I haven’t seen you before.” Nate ran a slow gaze from the ground back up to Brad’s eyes. “I guess we travel in different circles.”

  “Well…” Brad started and then didn’t know how to finish.

  “So where are you taking them?” Nate asked. “To, you know, be respectful.”

  “Mass grave,” Brad said.

  “Where? In case I want to pay my respects.”

  Brad looked to Romie.

  “A patch of woods off of 114,” Romie said.

  “Got it,” Nate said. “Patch of woods.”

  “Okay then,” Romie said. She moved in a careful, sidestepping circle around Nate, back to the cab of the truck. Brad waved and walked to the driver’s door. They both closed their doors quickly and immediately locked them. Brad turned the key and prayed the moving van would start. Nate still stood next to the door of the Chinese restaurant as they pulled away.

  “Well that was a bust,” Romie said. “Lots of corpses in there. We could have finished off the day.”

  “What a creepy guy,” Brad said. “I hope we don’t meet up with him again.”

  “I get the feeling we will, somehow,” Romie said. “Take a left up here in case he’s watching. I want him to think we’re headed south.”

  “Sure thing,” Brad said.

  Until they’d rounded several turns, Brad paid more attention to the rearview mirrors than the road in front of them. Romie called out turns and led them back around to Route 1 before they turned north again. They passed cars of the dead—veered off to the side of the road—but they were all empty. The doors hung open revealing empty seats. Another team of corpse collectors, probably Ted and Sheila, had already harvested this area.

  “Hey,” Romie said, snapping her fingers. “Take a right up here. Old folks home.”

  “Good idea,” Brad said.

  They finished their quota with an easy pile of withered, graying corpses. Some of the old women, dressed in sweatpants and shirts, smelling like salty chicken soup, were so light that Brad could have carried them on his own. They doubled their speed when Romie realized they could pile two bodies on a wheelchair and move four corpses at a time.

  They headed north towards the rendezvous point with their truckload of death.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  BRAD FOLLOWED THE tracks of other trucks north on the highway through the snow. Weighted down with the corpses, the big moving van didn’t have any problem with traction. Before it got too deep—still less than a foot deep—Romie pointed out the line of sleds parked up ahead. Each flat sled was about twenty-five feet long and attached to a huge, tracked vehicle, the Bombardiers Pete acquired.

  When he saw them pulling up, Pete waved Brad up to the front sled where the other two moving vans were also parked. Sheila and Ted were pulling bodies off the back of the van and carrying them over to the sled. As soon as he got Brad to the right spot, Pete jumped up on the sled to help Robby stack the corpses.

  They were working on the second row of bodies. They’d already secured the first row with thick yellow straps.

  Brad jumped down from the driver’s seat and walked over to where Ted and Sheila were lifting the body of a fat man in a bathrobe. They’d stomped down a path through the snow between the van and the sled, but Brad was cutting a new path through the powder as he approached.

  “Can I take over for one of you guys?” Brad asked.

  Sheila answered, “We’re fine, but you might want to help Lisa.” Sheila pointed her chin at the back of the van. In the gloomy interior, Brad saw Lisa dragging another body to the back edge of the moving van. Brad used the handle mounted on the side of the van and hoisted himself up onto the deck. He blinked at the darkness—eyes still squinting from looking across the snow—and helped Lisa slide another heavy man by his bathrobe.

  “Who’s that?" Lisa asked.

  “Who?” Brad asked. He looked up to see her pointing south, down the highway.

  A dark figure stood in the snow about a hundred yards from their position.

  “Nate,” Brad said, under his breath.

  “Who?" Lisa asked, but Brad was already jumping down from the back of the moving van. Brad caught up with Ted and Sheila as they tossed their corpse up to Pete and Robby.

  “Hey, guys,” Brad said. When he had their attention, he continued. “I think this guy might be trouble.” He didn’t point, but motioned with his eyes in the direction of the dark figure standing in the snow.

  Pete dropped to one knee on the deck of the sled, bringing his head level with Ted’s.

  “Who is it?" Ted asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Brad said, “but it might be the guy Romie and I just met over at the Chinese restaurant.”

  “So you talked to him?" Ted asked.

  “If it’s the same guy, yes,” Brad said.

  Robby climbed down from the sled and tromped off, cutting a new line through the snow. “I’m going to go meet him,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “I’m right behind you,” Brad said.

  As Brad walked away, he heard Sheila and Ted arrive at the conclusion that a two-person greeting party was probably enough. Brad glanced around for Romie—he hadn’t seen her since they pulled up to the convoy—but she wasn’t with the group.

  Brad caught up to Robby as the boy slogged through the snow.

  “Did you see where Romie went?” Brad asked Robby.

  “She’s still in the truck you guys pulled up in,” Robby said.

  Brad confirmed as they walked by the other moving van. Romie was still sitting there in the cab. She slid over to the driver’s side and she looked focused on the side-view mirror. She nodded to Brad and Robby as they walked past.

  “She’s watching that guy,” Robby said softly.

  “Yup,” Brad said.

  “What did he say to you before?” Robby asked.

  “Not much. He wanted to know where we were taking the corpses. I don’t know how he followed us. We went south and then looped back around before coming back here and we didn’t see him the whole time. When we left him, he was on foot in a parking lot. There was a cannibalized body in that restaurant. He might be responsible.”

  Robby didn’t comment. They’d crossed about halfway to the man. The dark figure, who Brad still assumed was Nate, didn’t move. He stood between the tire tracks left by the moving vans. He flicked his long hair out of his face with a toss of his head. Robby and Brad stopped about ten feet away from him. It was Nate.

  “Respectful,” Nate said.

  “Hi, I’m Robby.”

  “Nate,” the dirty man said. A breeze brought his odor to Brad. Nate smelled a bit like the nursing home corpses. It was a smell Brad had begun to associate with cold neglect. Brad traced Nate’s footprints through the snow. He hadn’t arrived on the highway; he came from the west.

  “Hello again,” Brad said.

  “Patch of woods?" Nate asked, gesturing to the sleds off in the distance behind Robby and Brad.

  “It’s a long story,” Brad said, “and, frankly, we didn’t think you needed to know.”

  “You could have said that,” Nate said. He tilted his head down towards the snow and then started violently shaking it, as he’d done outside the Chinese restaurant. Again, he kept going until they could hear Nate’s cheeks slapping against his teeth.

  “Are you okay?” Robby asked.

  Nate stopped instantly and looked up at the young man.

  “Are you? Should any of us be, after all this?”

  “We have to load these deceased onto these flatbed sleds there,” Robby said. “You’re welcome to help or we can talk with you while we work.” Robby gestured back to the group who stopped working to watch the convers
ation.

  “I’d like to know what the hell you’re doing first,” Nate said.

  “We’re taking all these people up north,” Brad said.

  “Why?" Nate asked.

  Brad looked to Robby.

  “We think we can get rid of the thing growing up there,” Robby said. “If we trigger an immune response, we think we can get it to go away.”

  “That’s a hell of an odd thing to say,” Nate said.

  Robby shrugged.

  Brad wanted to argue in Robby’s defense. He wanted to put the young man’s theory in context to convince Nate why he should take it seriously. But the silence seemed to belong to Robby and Nate alone; it wasn’t Brad’s to break.

  A light breeze kicked up swirls of snowflakes, taking the hard edge off of the fresh footprints. Since Brad arrived in Portland, he hadn’t felt much wind. In fact, he wondered if he’d felt any wind at all. In Portland, everything was still. None of the snow drifted or melted under the perpetually gray skies. Could this breeze be the first breath of air he’d felt in a month?

  Nate broke the silence—“Seems like grave robbery to me.”

  “They weren’t buried,” Robby said. “And we’re going to inter them up north.”

  “In a patch of woods, right?” Nate asked.

  “Like he said, you didn’t need to know so they made the choice to tell you a lie. We’re not making any apologies for what we’re doing here. It’s the right thing to do,” Robby said.

  “And if I help you move some of those dead, will you explain further what you intend to do with them?" Nate asked.

  “Certainly,” Robby said. He turned and swept his arm towards the sled. “After you.”

  Nate nodded and shuffled between Robby and Brad. As short-and-stocky Nate passed by, Brad caught a bigger noseful of the man. He smelled like he looked—greasy and sour. Robby and Brad followed him back towards the sled. As they passed Brad’s moving van, Brad looked up to see if Romie was still in the cab. He didn’t see her.

  When they’d approached to a few dozen paces from the sled, everyone stopped working and grouped together to greet the new arrival.

  “This is Nate,” Robby said.

  “Hi,” Nate said, waving.