by Cross, Amy
“Okay.”
“But you can try again later, albeit only in two-minute bursts. Got it?”
“Got it:”
“I don't even know why I'm doing this,” she continues, entering her user-name and password.
“Because deep down you're a nice person?”
“Don't say things like that, it makes my skin crawl.” She brings up a program and moves the cursor onto a green panel. “Once I hit this, you have two minutes to find the contact details for whoever you want to speak to at Mitchfield, and then you can try to speak to him. I mean, the odds of him answering are pretty low, but that's not my problem, you can just leave a text message and later you can check to see if he's responded. After two minutes, I will pull the plug, so whatever you wanna know, find it out fast, and for God's sake don't let on that you're making an unauthorized broadcast. I don't want someone reporting us for this.”
“I promise,” I reply. “Don't worry, General Patterson seemed like an okay kind of guy.”
“You ready?”
I nod.
She hits a button on the mouse. “Two minutes. Go.”
“How do I do this?”
Sighing, she grabs the mouse and opens several folders, finally finding one titled Mitchfield and opening it to reveal a list of names.
“These are all the personnel at Mitchfield,” she explains, speaking much faster than usual. “Double-click on one and the system will attempt to connect you.”
Scrolling through the names, I finally find General Patterson and double-click, only to be shown an error message.
“Huh,” Natalie mutters, grabbing the mouse and trying again, only to get the same message.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
“I'm not sure.” She tries a couple of other names, but the same thing happens, and then she changes to a different folder and tries another list. Still having no luck, she tries yet another folder. “I'm gonna run a trace,” she explains, “and see whether I can find another way to locate their main server. So far, it's not looking like it's online, but there's always a back-up somewhere, I just have to work out where in the -”
Before she can finish, a message flashes up, saying something about a ping not being received.
“What the hell?” she whispers, pausing for a moment. She hits a few more buttons, but it's clear that she's not getting the response she expected from the system.
“What's wrong?” I ask. “Natalie? Can we talk to someone at Mitchfield or not?”
“We can't,” she replies, clearly shocked by something. “Mitchfield's gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it's not there anymore.” She pauses again, before shutting the computer down.
“You said they might not answer,” I reply. “Can't we try again later? Eventually someone has to reply.”
“That's not the problem,” she continues, staring at the computer for a moment before turning to me. “The whole base at Mitchfield has been completely removed from the grid. It's almost like it doesn't exist anymore. If it was just a power-cut, the error message would be different. The whole place is gone.”
As those words leave her lips, we both look over at the window, just in time to spot three helicopters coming in low and heading over to land on one of the other buildings.
Thomas
“No!” I shout, banging my fist against the dashboard. “What the hell's wrong with you?”
The truck splutters as it continues to coast along the bumpy road, until finally it comes to a halt. Checking the fuel gauge, I see that it's reading as empty, but that's impossible since I filled it up just twelve hours ago. Opening the door, I climb out and walk around the vehicle until I reach the rear, at which point I realize that there's a trail of gasoline running back along the road.
The tank must have sprung a leak.
Climbing onto the back of the truck, I start sorting through what's left of my supplies, but finally I realize that I'm completely out. For a moment, I can't quite accept the truth, but finally I realize that I'm stranded. The truck can't move another inch right now, and I have no idea where I can find another gas station.
Making my way back down onto the tarmac, I take a moment to look around. I'm on the outskirts of a small town, but the place looks to be completely deserted. Figuring that there must be a gas station somewhere, I grab an empty canister and head off to take a look, walking past a faded, rusty old sign:
Welcome to Carmichael!
Elizabeth
“She was a good person,” Charles says, with tears in his eyes as we stand next to the grave. “She never hurt anyone, you know? She only wanted to help.”
“If it's any consolation,” I reply, “everything happened very fast. I really don't think she had a chance to realize what was going on.”
“Yeah she did,” he says, sniffing back more tears. “People always say that sort of thing, but I don't buy it. When someone dies, they know, even if it's only for a millionth of a second. That's enough for them to understand what's happening to them. She must have seen the bullet as it...” He pauses, before lowering his head, as if he can't bring himself to continue.
Hearing footsteps nearby, I turn and see that my father is approaching, along with Diane Clark from the council and a few other people, who are hanging back a little.
“This is a sad day,” Diane says as they reach us. “We've all known people who died, but for it to happen in such an unnecessary manner...”
“We're arranging for a headstone,” my father adds. “It's not an easy job, but we've found someone who should be able to come up with something appropriate. I know this probably isn't much consolation, but at least she'll be remembered. We've been thinking for a while that this would make a good spot for a cemetery, when one is finally needed. We'll think about marking the land off and making it official.”
“But you won't bury him here, will you?” Charles asks, with a hint of anger in his voice. “The man who killed her...”
“Of course not,” Diane replies. “His body has been disposed of.”
“How?” I ask.
She pauses, as if she wasn't expecting the question. “Does it really matter?”
“Kind of.”
“In an appropriate manner,” my father says. “Respectful, but... We can't exactly bury him in the city's main plot, can we?”
“Why not?” I ask. “Everyone deserves a grave.”
“His body has been removed,” Diane explains, “and from a sanitation and hygiene point of view, that's the most important thing. We decided that since he came from outside the city -”
“He didn't come from outside the city,” I reply, interrupting her. “He came from the city, which is more than most of us can say. He should be buried here.”
“Why do you care so much?” Charles asks.
“I just think -”
“The decision has been made,” my father says firmly. “The body has already been taken out of the city, so there's really no point discussing it any further.”
“But -”
“Elizabeth, please,” he hisses. “This isn't the time! People are grieving!”
“You should have kept him alive,” Charles continues. “He should have been made to pay for what he did.”
“He paid,” my father points out.
“It shouldn't have been so quick and easy, though.”
“What matters is that the threat was nullified,” my father continues, making his way over to Charles and putting a hand on his shoulder. “We also have to take our anger and turn it into something useful. We're currently talking about -”
“Kill them all,” Charles replies.
“We're going to have a vote -”
“Use the helicopters,” Charles continues, his anger clearly growing. “Hell, give me a gun and I'll go out there and do it myself! For as long as those people are trying to get into the city, we'll never be safe. You have to send soldiers out there to get rid of them, and I want to sign up!
I want to be the first one to open fire on those bastards!”
“That's very admirable,” Diane tells him, “but no decision has been made yet.”
“Typical politicians,” Charles replies. “You're just going to sit around and talk while people die!”
“Actually,” my father replies, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small metal badge, “that's not true at all. We've decided, Charles, that given your unique understanding of the impact of the current situation, it would be a good idea to invite you to join the council. Under the rules we established several weeks ago, only seven people can be members of the council at any one time, so I've decided to step aside and let you take my place.” He hands the badge to Charles. “It's time for you to make your voice heard.”
“They won't listen to me,” he replies, turning the badge over in his trembling hands.
“Yes,” Diane says, interrupting, “they will. Some on the council see the need for a new approach, but some need a little nudge in the right direction. We believe that by having you on-board, a more persuasive case can be made. In fact, we're going to have an emergency session right now, so you should come with me so I can start to fill you in on a few of the details.”
“Do you really think I can make a difference?” he asks.
“When we talk,” Diane continues, “we use logic and reason. It can be a little dry. You, on the other hand, have real emotion on your side. Emotion always wins out, and that's why John Marter and I want you to come and help persuade the others.”
“I'm going to make them see the truth,” he replies, wiping tears from his eyes as he starts to follow Diane to one of the other buildings. “I won't stop until they've listened to me!”
As they walk away, I can't help but feel that I just witnessed some expert manipulation. Turning to my father, I realize that he seems proud of himself. He and Diane have found a way to use Alison's death so they can promote their own agenda.
“Happy?” he asks finally.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I reply.
“I could tell that you didn't like me being in a position of power,” he continues, “and making those decisions, so I decided to step aside. I'm sure I can contribute to the city in some other way.”
“And you gave your place to an emotional, angry man who'll demand more violence,” I point out.
“You said it yourself the other day, we need different voices, different opinions. There was a danger that the council would become too soft, too comfortable. The events of the past few days clearly show that our approach was starting to fall out of step with the realities of the situation. I think that problem has been addressed now, don't you?” He pauses. “Besides, people won't stop listening to me just because I'm no longer a member of the council. I'll still have a voice, and now Charles Bloom will have a voice too. Everyone wins.”
“Everyone except the people outside the city.”
“They're not our priority.”
“It was all true, wasn't it?” I continue. “Natalie told me about the helicopters and what they really did out at Lake Erie, and she wasn't lying. You used them to kill other people, people who could threaten this city.”
“The council makes decisions -”
“And you're part of that council!”
“Not anymore,” he replies. “I quit, remember? You just saw me give my badge over to that fine young man. Does that seem like the decision of someone who's drunk on power and glory? And now -”
He reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder, but I pull back, not wanting him to touch me.
“Lizzie,” he continues, “let's just spend some time together. So much has happened, and I know we maybe weren't as close as we could have been, but we only have each other now. Your mother and your brother are gone, we can't afford to lose each other as well.”
“What happened to Mitchfield?” I ask.
He pauses, and I can tell that I've brought up something he'd rather not discuss.
“It's gone,” I continue. “Don't even bother lying to me, because I know. And don't ask how I know, because I won't tell you. You're just going to have to accept that you can't control everything.” I pause, almost enjoying the hint of discomfort in his eyes. “So did you send your helicopters there, as well? Was Mitchfield no longer any use to you, so you had it erased from the map?”
“You have no idea what you're talking about,” he replies stiffly.
“And all the people there?” I take a deep breath, trying not to think about Rachel. “Please tell me they left and that they're coming here.” I wait for him to answer, but after a moment I realize that he clearly doesn't want to admit the truth. “Rachel got out of there, right?” I continue, with tears in my eyes. “Dad, please -”
“Who's Rachel?” he asks.
“You... The baby, Dad. Rachel's the baby.”
“Oh. Of course, I'd...” He pauses again, clearly a little shocked.
“Where is she?” I ask, struggling to control my anger.
“What the hell kind of monster do you think I am?” he asks, his voice trembling with emotion. “Do you really think I'd let an innocent child be murdered like that? Of course the people at the base were evacuated before it was shut down. Every single one of them, including that little girl.”
“And Toad?” I ask, trying to stay calm. “Were you telling me the truth when you told me he was dead?”
“Lizzie -”
“Is he dead?” I shout, with tears running down my cheeks.
He stares at me for a moment.
“Tell me,” I whimper, finally unable to keep my emotions under control. “Please, just tell me the truth...”
“Yes,” he says finally. “I know I've made some terrible decisions, and I know you probably don't agree with any of them, but I would never lie to you directly.” He pauses again, before stepping toward me and putting his hands on the sides of my arms, the way he used to when I was a kid. “I'm so, so sorry, but your friend really did die out there. Believe me, if I could have brought him back to you... I want to see you happy, Lizzie.” He puts his arms around me and hugs me tight. “The people from Mitchfield were properly evacuated,” he continues, “and they're already on their way to a secondary facility in Philadelphia, and of course they have Rachel with them. We abandoned Mitchfield because it served no further purpose, but Philly is going to become our second city. We're growing, honey. The human race is getting back onto its feet.”
I want to argue with him, to push him away, but all I can think about is Toad. Ever since we left Mitchfield, I've had a faint hope in the back of my mind that he's alive, but I guess that would have been too much of a miracle.
With tears streaming down my face, I let my father hug me.
Thomas
“Damn it,” I mutter as I try the last of the pumps and find that, like the rest, it's dry. “Please God, can't you just give me one more break?”
Taking a step back, I look across the dusty street and see nothing but broken windows. Without gas for the truck, I'm stuck in this backwards little town, and I doubt very much that there'll be another gas station until at least the next town along, wherever that might be. Then again...
Spotting a car parked nearby, I hurry over and try the door. It's locked, of course, and even if it was open I still wouldn't be able to start the engine.
Glancing back at the gas station, I realize that all I need is a hose and I can transfer gas out of all the cars I find. It'll take a while, but at least I'll be able to get moving again.
Elizabeth
Hearing footsteps racing along the street, I turn to see several people hurrying this way with guns slung over their shoulders. I step back, shocked, only to realize that one of them is Natalie.
“Hey!” I call out to her. “What's happening?”
“Didn't you hear?” she asks, stopping for a moment. “We got the word!”
“What word? Are there more intruders?”
“Hell no,” she replies, “
and there won't be ever again, either. Today's the day, Lizzie. The council voted and now the helicopters are going to clear the area around the barrier. Everyone with rifle training has to go and man the gates, just in case any desperate people try to break through.”
“And you're joining them? After everything that's happened?”
“I got to thinking about it,” she continues, “and I talked to my father, and he helped me to see the truth. It's us against them, Lizzie. They're gonna come swarming in if we don't get rid of them. That Eddie guy was just the first.”
“But the helicopter attack,” I reply, still shocked by this sudden difference in her approach. “You said you never wanted to -”
“People change,” she says firmly. “People and times and sometimes even the whole fucking world. Sometimes you just have to stop thinking -”
“No!”
“Yes!” she says with a grin. “You have to push all those thoughts out of your head and just do whatever's required! Take a gun! Fly a helicopter! Stop having that endless debate going on in your head! I've seen you, Lizzie. Even when we were being held hostage by that guy, you were thinking all the time, trying to work stuff out. You even started to feel sorry for him in the end, despite the fact that he was totally willing to kill us just to make some kind of point!” She pauses again. “Sometimes you just have to pick up a gun and accept that it's time to go kill your enemies. And that's what those people out there are, it really is. They're our enemies. When you strip away all the crap, that's what life's all about. They want to take our food, so we have to stop them.”
I shake my head.
“You'll see,” she adds. “Listen, I have to get going, I don't want to get left behind. Maybe you should just stick your fingers in your ears and pretend this next part isn't happening. I can tell you're not quite at that point where you can deal with it yet.”
