Days 1 to 4 (Mass Extinction Event 1)

by Amy Cross

  "I have a ham radio," says one of the other men, sitting over by the door. "I managed to run it from a reserve battery for a few minutes, but I didn't pick up any signals. I'm gonna try again this evening, if I can get a crank battery up and running. Maybe there's other people broadcasting out there".

  "Did you try the emergency frequencies?" Bob asks.

  The man nods. "Nothing's transmitting. The only thing I found was some of the old number stations. They're still going, but maybe there'll be something later".

  "Keep an eye on it, Albert," Bob says. "We need to know as much as possible. No detail is too small".

  "So no-one knows what's happened?" I continue, turning to look at the other man who's in the room. Wearing a scruffy business suit and with his feet up on a table, the man looks kind of bored by the whole thing.

  "No-one knows," Bob replies. "Whatever it is, though, it's serious. I don't think we can expect it to be fixed too soon. I'm not saying it's impossible, but we need to plan for the medium-term at the very least".

  "But there are systems in place," I say. "They have emergency measures for this type of thing". I wait for someone to back me up. "Right?" I say, turning to the others. "Things can't just stop!"

  "There are various counter-emergency programs in place," the radio guy says. "They're designed to swing into action as soon as something like this happens. The thing is, they haven't swung into action, which suggests they're not going to. Whatever's happened, it seems to have caught everyone by surprise".

  "Is it nuclear?" Henry asks. I can see the fear in his eyes, and I'm making sure to keep a close eye on him. He seems to be getting more and more fidgety.

  "If it was nuclear, we'd know already," the radio guy says. "Nuclear isn't discriminating. There'd be widespread radiation poisoning, and atmospheric disturbances, and we'd probably have felt the ground shake. Plus, you know, the whole mushroom thing. This incident, whatever it is, seems to have knocked out a hell of a lot of people, but it's left some of us standing. That's not nuclear. I'm thinking it might be more biological in nature".

  "Although," Bob says, interrupting, "I do want to raise a point about safety at the various reactors. I remember watching the news a while back, when that Japanese facility was damaged by the tsunami. Those places can last a few days without cooling, but after that, things can get dicey. If there's anything that concerns me in the medium-term, it's the possibility of something going wrong at one of our facilities and potentially causing a disaster. I think there's a real chance of the situation deteriorating rapidly over the next few days and, again, we need to be prepared".

  "There's something else we haven't discussed," the radio guy adds, "which is the lack of people on the streets. I walked to the end of the block this morning, just to take a look. I didn't meet anyone else. Obviously it's highly unlikely that we're the only ones who are alive, but I think it's reasonable to assume that the vast majority of people are staying inside. They're scared. There's also the possibility that at least some of those people are dead. Again, if this was some kind of biological event, it might have taken a while for symptoms to manifest, by which point a majority of the population would be infected. If the onset of those symptoms was then rapid, there might not have been any time for the warning to spread".

  "We saw a body," I say. "We were on the roof, and we saw a body in a window in one of the buildings opposite. I couldn't be sure, but he looked wrong, somehow".

  "There's a body in the lobby of the hotel nearby," the radio guy continues. "He didn't look good, either. Kind of the wrong color. His skin was yellowy-gray. Got me wondering whether we're dealing with some kind of outbreak. I think that's what we need to be assuming at this point in time".

  "It's possible," Bob replies, "but again, we have to wonder why we seem to have been spared. Perhaps it's just a coincidence, but judging from my observations of the landscape so far, it seems this building has enjoyed a substantially higher survival rate than many others. In fact, as far as I can tell, there are very few survivors in New York at this particular moment".

  "There's a lot of dead bodies in cars," says the radio guy. "A lot".

  "But not everyone's dead," Henry says, turning to me. "Some people have survived. We've survived, so other people have survived". There's a hint of desperation in his voice, and I understand why: he's worried about our parents, since they were most likely out at the airport or a little way along the freeway when this disaster struck. The weird thing is, they're probably only a few miles away, but suddenly 'a few miles' seems like a huge distance.

  "It can't just be us," I tell Henry. "There's no way we'd be the only ones who've survived. That just wouldn't make sense".

  Henry pauses for a moment, before turning back to look at Bob. "What about our food?" he asks, a clear hint of anger in his voice. "You came and took our food. Our food. Our parents bought that food, and they left it for us. And the water. We want it all back".

  "Calm down," I say, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

  "I'll calm down when they give our food back," he replies, pulling away. "We don't know how long this things gonna be happening, so we need our food".

  "And you can have it," Bob replies. "If that's what you want, feel free. As I said before, I'll even help you carry it back up to your apartment and stick it straight back where we found it. But hear me out first. When we came and took the food from your refrigerator, it was genuinely because we thought the pair of you had skipped out of here. That was a mistake. Now that we have the food in our central area, however, I'm proposing that we pool our resources. With all due respect to you and your sister, you're kids. You don't know how to ration yourselves and how to control yourselves, so maybe it'd be better all round if we work together. If you're willing to share some of your food, we can do other things for you".

  "There's nothing we want," Henry says, "except our food and water".

  "What about heat?" Bob pauses for a moment. "I can heat some water and fill bottles for you. Keep you warm at night. And water? I have several sanitation barrels that'll at least allow you to flush your toilet. Now, I have no motivation to share these things with you, if you don't share what you've got with me. That's why I'm proposing that we pool together and work as a team. There are six of us in this building, including Mrs DeWitt, and I think we can easily stretch things out to last a week or two. By then, with God's grace, some semblance of order will have been restored".

  "We don't want any of your shit," Henry replies. "Give us our food and water".

  "It's okay, son," Bob continues. "You're scared. I understand that -"

  "I'm not scared!" Henry shouts back at him, reaching into his pocket to grab the handle of his knife.

  "You're not?" Bob shrugs. "That's pretty unusual. I'm scared. I'm scared that the military won't come and restore order. I'm scared that it'll turn out that there's some kind of virus causing all these deaths. I'm scared that no matter what we do, we'll run out of everything and then we'll be stuck here. If you're not scared of these things, son, then I suppose the only reason must be that you know something the rest of us don't. So, please, enlighten us. Just what is it that prevents you from being scared right now?" He pauses. "Is it that knife in your pocket? Is that what it is?"

  Henry doesn't reply; he just stands there, looking as if he could be about to do something very stupid.

  "Aren't we over-reacting?" I say, trying to calm things down. "It's been a day. That's all. A day's not very long. That's just twenty-four hours. They might still come and help us, right?" I turn to the others. "Right?"

  "We can't assume that," Bob says. "Only a fool sits and waits for others to save his skin".

  "But they wouldn't just stop being there," I continue. "Maybe it's taking them a little longer than they thought to get ready, but they could still turn up at any moment".

  "And who are 'they', exactly?" Bob asks.

  "The government. The military". I stare at him. "We can't give up yet. We've got to stay optimistic". />
  "Tell that to your brother," Bob replies. "He's the one holding the knife. I'm just trying to create a safe environment for all of us, so we can get through this as best we can. We can give your food back. We don't need it, though it'd make things a hell of a lot easier. But we can get by without it, and you two can go merrily back up to your apartment. Or just one of you can go. You can split the food, and one of you can choose to stick with us, and the other can go off on his own. It's up to you. I'm not telling you what you should do; I'm just laying out another option for you".

  "We want out food," Henry says, carefully taking the knife out of his pocket. "We can handle everything else just fine".

  "Is that right?" Smiling, Bob opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a small handgun.

  "Let's go," I say, standing up and grabbing Henry's arm. "Let's go!" I say again, starting to get worried. I really don't like guns, and I have no idea whether we can trust this Bob guy. For all I know, he might decide to shoot us both, purely so he can keep his haul from our apartment.

  "Calm down," Bob says, placing the gun on the desk. "It's loaded, but I'm not gonna use it. I just wanted you to see that, in the grand scheme of things, a fucking carving knife isn't the be-all and end-all of the situation. It's fine. We'll bring your food back up, all of it. It's currently sitting in a refrigerator in the basement, hooked up to a generator, but we'll haul it all up to your place for you. You'll have it back within the hour".

  "And the water," Henry says.

  "And the water".

  "All of it!"

  "All of it".

  "Okay," Henry mutters, before turning and storming out of the room.

  "Your brother's pretty scared," Bob says, looking over at me.

  "Our parents are missing," I reply.

  "A lot of people are missing. I doubt there's anyone in this room who isn't worried about someone else. This is the kind of situation that tests a man and makes him show his true mettle, though. A real man stays calm and comes up with a plan, rather than panicking and waving knives around. I hope your brother can keep himself together. If he can't, I'm not going to stand for any Bad behavior".

  "He'll be fine," I say, realizing that Bob just issued a thinly-veiled threat.

  "I'm sure he will," Bob replies, placing the gun back in the drawer. "If you change your mind, though, you know where to find us. If there's a significant change in the situation, or if we learn anything else, then I can assure you that as a courtesy I'll be happy to let you know. Otherwise, any favors or resources you might want, you can negotiate with us on a day-by-day basis. I'm sure we'll be able to come to some kind of arrangement". He stares at me for a moment, and slowly a grin begins to spread across his lips. "I'm sure you've got some skills or abilities you could trade," he adds eventually.

  Over by the wall, the radio guy lets out a chuckle.

  "I'm fine with my brother, thanks," I say, shivering at the thought of how these sleazy assholes are looking at me. "We're just going to wait it out up there". Walking over to the door, I pause for a moment and look back at him. "How much longer do you think this is going to last?" I ask. "I mean, honestly, on a gut level, you must have some idea of how bad it's looking". I wait for him to answer. "A day? A week?"

  He sighs. "I think it's starting to look very bad indeed," he says eventually. "I hold out hope that thing are gonna get better at some point, but whatever's happened, it's far greater than anyone could have anticipated. I'd caution you to accept that we're currently living in an essentially lawless society. The ones who can enforce the rules are the ones who can make them. You need to find a way to simmer your brother down. You got that?"

  I nod, before making my way out of the room and back through to the stairwell. I can hear Henry several floors up, heading to our apartment. To be honest, I can't help feeling that we might be making a mistake by failing to work with the others. After all, they seem to know a lot more about the situation, and they seem to have things like generators and at least some kind of understanding of what's happening. I don't like the idea of Henry and me sitting up there in our apartment, shivering and trying to make do with the food that we've got, while the rest of the building gets on with some kind of group plan. Still, I can't leave Henry up there alone, so right now I have to stick with him. Most likely, everything'll be fixed within a day or two anyway; but if this thing drags on much longer, I'm going to have to find a way to persuade Henry to reconsider. I just hope things get back to normal before it's too late.

  Day Three

  THOMAS

  Oklahoma

  "Anything?"

  My mother looks up from the kitchen table, where she's writing something in her old notebook. "No," she says after a moment. "Not yet".

  Walking over to the sink, I turn the cold tap and wait to see if any water comes out. I know it's a forlorn hope, but I perform this ritual a couple of times each day. My reasoning is that at some point, things have to start getting back to normal. The water has to start running and the lights have to come back on, and then we can begin the recovery process. Just because there's nothing yet, it doesn't necessarily follow that we're screwed forever. They won't let us just die out here. They won't let everything fall apart like this. They're working on put things right. I know they are. Whoever 'they' are...

  "I had a sudden idea in the night," my mother says, still writing. "It occurred to me that maybe we should keep a diary of what happens, so we can refer back to it when this is all over". She adds a couple more lines to the book, before setting her pen aside and sitting back with a satisfied smile. "Do you remember when I used to write bedtime stories for you, and for Joseph? I don't know why I ever gave that up. This seems like the perfect time to freshen up some old habits".

  I watch as she adds some more lines to her notebook. There's something slightly pathetic about the sight of her reverting to an activity she abandoned more than a decade ago. It's almost as if her fear of the future is forcing her into the past.

  "What are you writing?" I ask eventually.

  "Just in idea I had when I was trying to get to sleep. I had to wait until morning, of course, so I could see to write. I could barely close my eyes, of course. I was too excited, and..." She pauses, and the smile fades from her lips. "Well, I'm not really sure why I bothered now. It seems silly. But you never know. It might be useful".

  "Sure," I say quietly. Even though I don't really understand her point, I figure I might as well let her get on with whatever makes her feel better. Walking over to the fridge, which is still a little cooler than the rest of the house, I open the door and grab a bottle of water. We were pretty well-stocked when this began, but we're starting to run low and I doubt we've got enough for much more than another day. Suddenly, even the smallest things are cause for concern.

  "Try not to drink too much," my mother says.

  "I'm going to put out some butts," I reply. "Dad's got some big barrels in the barn. I figured it might rain, so we could collect the water".

  "You're not allowed to collect rain-water," she says firmly.

  "What?"

  "It's against the law. You're not allowed to do it. You can get fined. It's part of the local land management rules".

  "Who's gonna stop us?" I ask.

  "Thomas, it's against the law!"

  I stare at her for a moment. "I think I'll do it anyway," I say eventually. "Just to be safe". Looking up at the ceiling, I listen out for any sign of Lydia coughing in the guest room. I could hear her for most of the night, but she stopped a couple of hours ago and now the silence, which was so welcome at first, seems ominous. It's hard to believe that she's suddenly recovered

  "I have no idea," my mother says suddenly.

  "About what?"

  "About her". She follows my gaze up to the ceiling. "I have no idea how she is. I don't think we should open the door, though. Whatever she's got, I don't want it infecting the rest of us, even if it's just a common cold. We've got enough to deal with, without having to get sick
at the same time".

  "We can't just leave her in there forever," I say. "What if she's dying?" I wait for her to respond, but she seems to be deliberately avoiding eye contact. "We can't just forget about her!" I say eventually.

  She looks down at her notebook, clearly unable to answer the question.

  "Do you think there's some kind of sickness?" I ask.

  "What do you mean?"

  I pause, reluctant to give voice to the ideas that have been going around and around in my head for the past twenty-four hours. "Do you think something's happened?" I say eventually. "Like, a virus or something. I mean, everything seems to have stopped, and then Lydia turns up with this illness, and it seems like it can't just be a coincidence. The fire's still burning from that plane that came down. Why wouldn't they come and see what's happened?"

  She shakes her head. "You're being melodramatic. You've seen too many disaster films".

  "So you think it's all just a coincidence?"

  "I think we'll have to wait and see," she replies firmly, clearly trying to convince herself that everything's going to be okay. "When the internet and the television are back up and running, we'll find out the truth. It's obviously something big, but I don't want us jumping to conclusions. There's probably a perfectly reasonable explanation -"

  "Like a virus," I say, interrupting her.

  "No!" she replies, sounding a little exasperated. "Why would there be a virus? Where would it come from?"

  "Asia. Some kind of flu, or maybe something that escaped from a lab somewhere, or an attack -"

  "What are you talking about, Thomas?" She stares at me as if I'm insane; as if I've wandered in and started suggesting the most insane ideas in the entire world. "This isn't a film," she continues. "This is real life, not some kind of paranoid fantasy world. Obviously something has happened that has caused a degree of disruption, but it's by no means the end of the world. We have enough to deal with, waiting for everything to get sorted out, without you coming through and spouting off with these absurd ideas. If you don't have anything constructive to say, please don't say anything at all. We need to just stay calm and get on with our daily lives as usual".