The Enoch Pill

by Matthew William

  “Let’s see how these monsters like this,” she said. “Open the door and make sure you stay behind it. The pulse could kill you.”

  Laura smiled and got to her feet. She staggered to the door, grabbed the handle and nodded. Kizzy armed the canon and positioned herself behind the plastic shield. Her sweaty hand gripped the trigger. The crows were beginning to peck holes through the brittle wooden door. Kizzy nodded back to Laura who in one smooth motion pulled the door open and hid behind it.

  Kizzy pulled the trigger and shot a blue wave of energy through the doorway. The ten crows just outside fell dead to the ground. Kizzy pushed the EMP towards the door, eager to take the carnage to the rest of the flock. But the EMP began to gasp and shake and the engine ground to a halt. A stream of twenty more crows crashed in through the opened door. Their wings kicked up dust from the barn floor.

  “Laura close the door!” Kizzy yelled.

  “What?”

  “Close the damn door!”

  Kizzy ran to the wall of tools and grabbed the scythe. Three of the crows came at her with sharp talons. Kizzy swung the scythe, missing two but slicing the third through the wing. It fell awkwardly to the floor. The bird pounced at her, blood spurting from it’s severed flesh. Kizzy slashed again, taking off its head.

  Laura finally closed the door, but it didn’t matter much. The barn had reached full capacity. And by closing the door she lost her hiding spot. About a dozen of the birds flew towards her. She screamed and ran to the corner, rolling up in a ball on the floor, and putting her arms over her head.

  “What’s wrong with the EMP?” she cried out.

  “It’s out of gas,” Kizzy yelled. She swung the scythe back and forth, keeping the crows at bay. She looked at Laura who was screaming and surrounded.

  Another three crows came at Kizzy from the side. They grabbed at the scythe with their talons and tried to pull it away. Kizzy held on tight, her feet sliding across the dirt floor. Eventually her fingers lost grip and the crows pulled her weapon away. The sharp blade swung past her face, barely missing it.

  She needed to get the EMP working again.

  She grabbed a rake from the wall and swung recklessly at any crows blocking her path, moving across barn to the three ethanol cans sitting on the shelf. Whenever she gained ground the crows attacked her from behind. Their claws scratched and their beaks felt like sharpened sticks stabbing at her flesh. Finally she reached the cans. She quickly picked up the first one and shook it. It was as light as air. Empty. She whipped it at the crows.

  Kizzy picked up the next can and the next. All three were empty. She had been careless and forgot to get the new cans from the house. And now she was going to die because of it. She looked to Laura who was still surrounded and Kizzy couldn’t tell if she was moving or not.

  The crows began to swarm around Kizzy, out of reach from the rake. Suddenly they all paused their movement. For half a second it was quiet. Then they all flew in at once. Kizzy fell to the ground. There were too many of them. On the floor next to her she noticed the blanket she had thrown away moments before. She scrambled to it and wrapped it around herself. The crows clawed and pecked at her legs and back and head, but the blanket padded the attacks. But the crows weren’t fooled and they began tearing at the fabric. Kizzy would only be protected for a few more moments. The only hope was the EMP, and she would have to move fast.

  Could she get some gas out of the lawn mower? She crawled on her hands and knees amidst the dust and feathers and twisted open the gas cap. That was empty too. It was her last hope. The pecking at the blanket grew more intense as they ripped out the stuffing. Kizzy would die right there in the barn. Forget fifty years, she only had fifty seconds. The barn and the dust and the feathers and the crows were the last things she’d ever see. Between the lawnmower and the EMP and the stupid old tractor.

  The tractor! There would still be gas in that. She pulled the knife from her boot and swung at the crows surrounding her. One came flapping at her face. Kizzy slashed with her knife right across its breast. It squawked and tumbled to the floor.

  Kizzy crawled over to the EMP, grabbed its handle and began pulling it towards the tractor. She opened the gas cap, as the crows pecked at her fingers. She found the black rubber gas line on the tractor. There would only be one chance to get this right. She sliced the gas line with the knife and the golden liquid gushed out all over the place. Kizzy took the hose and aimed the flowing gas into the tank of the EMP. She swung the knife with her free hand to keep the crows away.

  After a half second fill up, she pulled the cord on the EMP.

  It roared to life but shuddered from the low gas level. The ethanol flowing from the tractor’s gas line trickled to a stop. Kizzy punched the arming mechanism on the EMP and pulled the trigger. It shot a beautiful blue pulse through the crows. A path of them fell lifelessly to the ground. The pulse hit the far wall and bounced off at an angle, killing just as many crows as the initial shot.

  Kizzy was still surrounded and the barn was still nearly filled with the swarming black monsters. The EMP began to give its death rattle. There was only enough gas for one last shot. How could she kill all of them with only one blast? She looked and saw Laura on the floor. The crows were pecking at her still body. The pulse would kill her for sure. Kizzy had to protect her with the shield somehow.

  She crawled towards Laura, pulling the EMP behind her and holding tight to what remained of the blanket. The caws and shrieks of the crows grew louder. Kizzy began to feel lightheaded. She reached Laura who laid motionless. Her body was covered in blood, gray dust and black feathers. Kizzy swung at the crows that pecked at her and pulled Laura’s body close to her own. She pulled the EMP up onto it’s back wheels so that the shield was on top of them, covering both their bodies. The cannon pointed straight up at the ceiling. The engine was beginning to die out. The crows clawed and pecked at the plastic shield.

  Kizzy pulled the trigger. The blue pulse shot up to ceiling and ricocheted down into every corner of the barn. A hundred crows fell dead. A black blanket covered the floor.

  Kizzy nudged Laura, but she barely made a sound.

  “Please hold on,” whispered Kizzy. “Don’t leave me all alone.”

  The farm laid desolate as the last of the crows flew away. Where there used to be green plants, was now only bare black soil. All was still and quiet. The sun was shining but the day was dark.

  Kizzy pulled Laura towards the house across the lawn. Laura was heavier than she thought she’d be. The blood on Kizzy’s hands made Laura’s arms slippery. She pried open the kitchen door and pulled her inside. Her mother was looking out the kitchen window, armed with a broom. She gasped when she saw Laura and rushed over to them shaking her head. “I told you and I told her too.”

  “Do you even care that I’m alright?” Kizzy asked. She had all sorts of feelings surging through her. Fear, sadness, excitement, guilt, shame.

  Her mother reached down and patted Laura’s face. “Come on girl wake up.” But Laura wouldn’t wake up.

  Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. Then she looked up at Kizzy, her eyes were fearful. She slapped Laura’s face. She paused for a second and felt with two fingers on Laura’s neck. Her jaw dropped. She looked up at Kizzy, then down at Laura.

  She pulled Laura from Kizzy’s arms and laid her flat onto the floor. She put two hands onto Laura’s rib cage and began pushing down rhythmically. After seven pushes she brought her lips to Laura’s and breathed into her mouth.

  Kizzy found this strange. “What are you doing?”

  Laura’s chest raised as her lungs filled up with air. It dropped again. Kizzy’s mother continued the procedure again and again growing more and more distraught every time.

  After ten cycles she gave up. She fell backwards onto her bottom, panting. There was a look of complete terror on
her face. “What have you done Kizzy?” she asked between breaths.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “No,” said Kizzy, shaking her head. “She can’t be, she’s just unconscious. Shake her a little more.”

  “Her pulse has stopped,” her mother said. “She lost too much blood. There’s nothing else I can do. She’s dead.”

  The room shrank around Kizzy. She looked down at Laura who slept on the kitchen floor. A wave of guilt slammed into her like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her insides filled up with acid. Kizzy brushed the hair from Laura’s face.

  “Just wake her up,” she pleaded to her mother. “Just wake her up.”

  Her mother got to her feet and walked towards a desk in the corner of the kitchen.

  “Please wake her up,” Kizzy said. The tears began to fall down her cheeks. They burned through the dust and the blood. “She’s my only friend.”

  “Laura’s death is your fault,” her mother said. “There’s nothing that can be done about it now. And you know what you have to do.”

  Her mother opened a drawer from the desk and took out a small white paper box, about the size of a chipmunk. Kizzy knew exactly what that was. It was a box she was told never to play with. It contained one pill with a super concentrated version of the Enoch compound. You were to take it if you caused someone’s death.

  “Here,” her mother said, holding the box out.

  Kizzy shook her head.

  “You have to.”

  “I only have fifty years,” Kizzy said. “Can’t I just have them?”

  “If a life is lost, it has to be repaid,” her mother said. “And Laura had forever. You took that from her, you have to pay it back.”

  Fifty years evaporated before Kizzy’s eyes. She took the paper box. This wasn’t happening. Another tear came, but this one was made of self pity. She was a freak and now she’d die a freak. What were her options? If she refused to take the pill the constable would come and do the job instead.

  Kizzy thought back to the music in the barn. The poems, the words, the clues that suggested that just maybe Banshee knew the whereabouts of Dr. Enoch. The records, the drawings, the maps. Her options had been boiled down to one. Could the person who had conquered death bring Laura back to life? Could she even find a cure for herself? The hope of Enoch echoed through her soul.

  She dropped the box ran to her room. What do you take with you when you may never be coming back? She grabbed her jacket. It could be cold in the city at night. She darted through the kitchen towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked, trying to grab her. But she was too drunk and Kizzy was too fast. She slipped through her mother’s fingertips and out the door.

  Kizzy punished the ground with her footprints as she ran. She didn’t look back. She went down the path past Laura’s house. Laura’s mother was looking out the window, probably wondering where her daughter was, hoping she had been someplace safe during the crow storm.

  Kizzy reached the canal and saw all the crates floating towards the city. She had never followed them to their destination. Going that way was certain death. She paused. She was about to embark on new ground and things would never be the same again. She took a mental snapshot of the moment for future reference and began her journey towards the city.

  A short while later, from up on the top of a hill, she saw the city lights of Yanloo City shimmering off in the distance. They were bright and flickering like a beating heart. Kizzy’s heart began to beat along with them. The difference was, the beat that pounded in her chest was limited and only had a set number of beats remaining. And with each one that passed it was another step in the eventual march towards the last.

  Yanloo City stretched out in front of her. The factories chugged smoke and the skyscrapers pierced the clouds. They were all wrapped together by a tall metal wall. Mutant guards would be a stationed up there, for sure. To avoid capture she needed to plan her approach carefully.

  As she stood against a tree the image of Laura laying there lifeless flashed before her eyes. She was dead. Laura was dead. Kizzy kept repeating it to herself, but it never made any sense. She couldn’t believe it. She fell against the tree and just stared at the grass. She’d never see her friend again. She’d never have a friend again. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

  A familiar low rumbling came from behind her. She turned. The huge black swarm of crows was approaching. Kizzy gasped. Now that she knew what they were capable of, the sight of them filled her with dread. Her bones shivered. She looked back at the city. The only safety lay on the other side of that wall.

  6

  A train on elevated tracks sped through Yanloo City’s skyscrapers. It was headed for the canal yards, direct from the central station. A young man named Diego sat next to the window. He had dark hair and dark eyes and wore a brown leather jacket over a gray hooded sweatshirt. He was 18 years old and looked like he was 18 years old, which made him one of the few people in the world who actually looked his age. He wouldn’t for long though. When he was 90 he would still look like an 18 year-old kid.

  An old song from before the plague was playing on the radio. He smiled. Those songs never ceased to amaze him.

  A middle-aged man in a cheap suit entered from the other end of the carriage. He looked like he was 45, so that probably made him about 63.

  He signaled for Diego to come to him. Diego shook his head and waved the man over to him. The man rolled his eyes shuffled his way down the swaying aisle. Diego perched himself on the edge of his seat, like an animal about to pounce. He took a small black pill bottle out from his jacket. Mini-death pills.

  “Do you have the stuff?” the man whispered, putting out his hand.

  “Just a second cowboy,” Diego said. “I have to give you some guidelines first. If you die using these, I lose a customer.”

  The man groaned as he sat.

  “Ok so, you take just one of these and it won’t really do much,” Diego said. “You’ll feel sick, and you’ll pass out for a couple hours. You’ll probably wake up with a really shitty headache. All in all, a real waste of time. Now if you take two of them, it packs more of a punch. It’ll knock you out cold for ten hours. But it will only take you so deep. You’ll still remember all the things that were making you want to escape in the first place. Again, a waste of time.

  Now the beauty is in three of them – that’s the real sweet spot. It feels like your leaving everything behind forever. You don’t even dream. Twenty-four hours of pure bliss. That’s what you’re paying for.”

  Diego handed him the black bottle.

  “And if I take four?” the man asked. He shook the pill bottle up against his ear.

  “Don’t ever take four,” Diego said. “You go to sleep and you don’t wake up. And make sure you never go three days without an Enoch.”

  The man looked nervous. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Diego looked him in the eyes. “Trust me. You’ll be happy you did.”

  The man took an Enoch pill bottle from his pocket and handed it to Diego as payment. He slowly stood up and walked back down the aisle as the train pulled into a station.

  “Hey,” called Diego. “If anyone finds you with those pills, you never got them from me, ok? Give me your word on that.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die,” said the man with a smile and he hopped off.

  A younger guy entered the carriage. He was tall and lanky and wore round gold glasses. His name was Milo and he was one of Diego’s oldest friends. He was 21 but looked 18. That’s because he was 3 when the plague hit. If you were just a kid when it all went down, you would age to about 18 and stay there. If you were over 18 the pill locked you at whatever age you were then. Fair or not everyone was stuck with what they go
t. Almost everyone.

  Milo noticed the middle-aged man leaving the train and glanced over at Diego. He approached with a toothy grin.

  “Did that guy buy?” Milo asked.

  “They always do,” Diego said.

  “How much did you make?”

  Diego poured the contents of the orange Enoch Pill bottle out into his hand. “20 pills.”

  “And how much cash?” Milo asked.

  “Is that all you care about?”

  “It is when you owe two months rent.”

  “No cash, just the pills.”

  Milo groaned. “Why?”

  “Well maybe I don’t want to tell you,” Diego said, pouring the Enoch pills back into the orange bottle and sliding it into his jacket pocket. “Maybe it’s just too embarrassing.”

  “Does it have to do with wherever you disappear to for days on end?”

  “That’s possible.”

  “And where is that exactly?”

  “It’s a secret,” Diego said.

  “Well, you know you still have to pay the same rent. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone half the time. All you’re stuff is still there.”

  Diego winked then stared out the window. He couldn’t tell Milo his plan. He would probably consider it anti-social.

  “Speaking of which do you have my red hoodie?” Milo asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “The red one, with the yellow stripes on the arms.”

  “No I don’t have it.”

  “Are you sure? I remember specifically lending it to you a while back.”

  “I gave it back to you, I’m sure of it. Maybe you loaned it to Larry?”

  “No it was to you.”

  “Well, I can keep an eye out for it, if that’ll make you happy.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  The latest Banshee song, “Fly”, came on the radio. Diego moaned.