Extinction of Us (Book 2): As Civilization Dies

by North, Geoff

  Where’s Michael? Where’s my brother?

  The rest of the burning ceiling tile fell in front of her. It exploded outwards, igniting her pants in a half a dozen places. She smacked at her legs, extinguishing most of the flame. More smoke rose up between her fingers. Too much smoke. It worked its way between her clenched teeth and wriggled up into her nostrils. Amanda clamped her eyes against the stinging agony, but there was no fighting it. The smoke was alive and it had gotten inside of her.

  Amanda! Where are you? They have me, Amanda. They’re hurting me.

  Her brother.

  She dropped to the floor on her stomach and gasped for the last layer of clean air sandwiched between the smoke and carpet. She slithered forward in complete darkness, trying to distinguish between the sounds of raging fire, babies crying, and Michael’s voice.

  Something heavy stepped on the back of her hand. A dim orange light began to flicker before her eyes and she could see a big black boot pressing down into her knuckles. Her fingers began to swell and blacken, the pain was excruciating. She turned her head up to scream again and saw a monster looking back down at her. It was dressed in white and covered with ash. Its head was all black with ridges and tubes sticking out. The eyes were flat pools of glass with nothing behind them.

  Amanda! Don’t let them get you!

  The monster was holding something massive and metallic in its arms, a terrible six-foot long weapon. More tubes led away from its thick cylindrical middle and disappeared into a tank clinging to the thing’s back. Liquid flame began to drip out of the long barrel. Amanda watched the glowing blue drops fall. They hit the floor next to her head and made a soft plopping sound.

  The blue drops brightened, became orange.

  Don’t let them hurt you like they’re hurting me.

  “Michael.”

  The drops turned white, and Amanda opened her eyes.

  “Michael is fine,” an adult voice said. “Your brother is in good hands and so are you.”

  She wasn’t staring up at dripping balls of fire. Amanda was watching fluorescent lights set in a ceiling pass by. She was lying in some kind of moving bed. There was no monster holding her down. It was a man dressed in a white doctor’s coat wearing one of those surgical masks over the bottom half of his face, He spoke again. “All three of you are safe here. We have lots of food and plenty of fresh water. All the comforts of home, sweetie.”

  “Caitlan.” The name came up out of her throat in a croak between dry lips.

  The man wearing the surgical mask leaned down as the gurney rolled down the brightly lit hallway. “What did you say? I couldn’t make it out.”

  Amanda licked her lips with a tongue that felt like rubber and tasted even worse. “Caitan... Caitlan calls me sweetie.”

  The man’s eyebrows raised. “Is Caitlan a child?”

  “Grown-up... she helps Angela look out for us.”

  He patted her wrist. “I’ll be looking after you from now on, Amanda. We all will here. My name is Hubert. You can call me Bertie.”

  Amanda craned her aching head back and saw another masked figure pushing the bed along. A woman. She was taller than Hubert, much taller and wider at the shoulders, but as thin as a skeleton. She looked down at Amanda through a pair of black-rimmed glasses with cold, grey eyes.

  “Who... who is she?”

  “That’s Nurse Chauk. Sounds like the stuff you write on boards with, but spelled differently. Don’t let her frighten you. She doesn’t talk much, but I guarantee you she has an excellent manner with kids.” He glanced at the nurse as if to remind her of it. The woman pulled her mask down and smiled. Her teeth looked too big for her mouth.

  “Where’s Michael? Where’s Nicholas and all the others?”

  The gurney came to a stop and there was a loud buzzing noise. A door opened up in front of them and the gurney wheels started rolling again. “That’s enough talking for now,” Hubert said. “You need to rest some more while the sedatives wear off. Close your eyes.”

  Amanda closed them halfway and watched what little she could see. They passed by a dozen more florescent lights and buzzed their way through another door. Hubert and Chauk began mumbling back and forth softly. Amanda couldn’t hear much of what they were saying over the sound of wheels rattling on hard tile. She could only make out a few words Radiation. Procedure. Observation.

  They came to another door but it didn’t buzz back at them. It slid silently open and Nurse Chauk pushed Amanda into a tiny room. She saw Hubert press a button on the wall and felt her stomach lurch a second later. They were in an elevator, and they were dropping down.

  This wasn’t possible. All the elevators and big buildings had been destroyed a year ago. Amanda never dreamed she would see a place this clean with so many working lights ever again. There wasn’t enough power left in the whole world to make this place run. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe if she closed her eyes all the way and let the dream take her where it wanted, she would wake up for real again soon. Amanda did just that. She wasn’t trapped in a raging fire with a monster standing over her in this part of the dream. There were no babies crying off in the distance. Rolling beds and elevator rides were much easier to handle.

  She awoke in another bright room with stark white walls and humming fluorescents. The bed was no longer moving. There were more beds on either side of her. A little girl to her right was reading a battered Winnie the Pooh book. She smiled at Amanda and stuck her nose back into the pages without saying hello. A boy with curly red hair was snoring lightly to her left.

  There was a window set in the wall ahead of her, four feet high and almost twenty wide. The man from her dream, Hubert, was standing in front of the thick glass, observing something intently out of Amanda’s view. She cleared her throat and moved her tongue around. It still tasted awful, but felt normal again. “Where am I? What is this place?”

  He came to her and rubbed her arm affectionately. “Awake so soon? Good. You’re a strong one. Fit as a fiddle.”

  The mask was gone and he smiled. He had a kind face, wrinkled and all-knowing like Fred’s. “Are you a doctor?”

  “Yes, Amanda, I’m a doctor. I am Doctor Hubert Theeron, but I told you my friends call me Bertie.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Thought I was dreaming.” She sat up some more in the bed and looked around the room again. “Where’s that woman... where’s Nurse Chauk?”

  “Her shift ended an hour ago. Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink?” Amanda nodded and the doctor went to a small table set in one corner of the room. He returned with a plastic cup half-filled with water. He held it up to her lips and helped her drink some of it down. “I’ll have the nurse on duty get you a sandwich and some soup.”

  Amanda drank the rest of the water and handed him the empty cup. “My brother. You said he was here and that he was in good hands. I want to see him now.”

  The kind smile dropped slightly. “Soon, dear. Very Soon. First you have to build some of your strength back up. You’ve had a very traumatic go of things these last few months. We want to make sure you adjust well to your new surroundings.”

  “Can I see Nicholas too when I’m feeling stronger?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about Angela and Caitlan... where’s Hayden and Doc Fred?”

  “Are these the grown-ups you were talking about before?” Amanda nodded. “Well I’m afraid they’re not here, but don’t be upset. There all kinds of adults to look after you here. If all goes well, we may even be able to find new parents for you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “My parents are dead,” she said with a scowl. “My Dad was blown up and my Mom’s head was shot off.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Many loved ones were lost during the Restructuring.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Restructuring is a word a select group of people came up with to replace the Apocalypse. Do you know what that means?”

  “Sure I do. It’s when the world goes to
hell and all the zombies come out.”

  Doctor Theeron’s smile fell away completely. It was replaced with a sad look Amanda had seen on Doc Fred’s face many times. “I suppose it does,” he said quietly.

  The girl next to them placed her book down on her chest. “Can’t you two stop talking? I’m only six, and it’s hard learning how to read without all the noise.”

  “Of course, Megan.” Hubert took Amanda’s hand and helped her sit up on the edge of the bed. “Would you like to have a look around the place?” She tried to stand but the doctor shook his head. “Facility procedure states that all new patients must get about with assistance for at least the first forty-eight hours.” He produced a small handheld from an inner pocket of his white coat and spoke into it. Half a minute later an orderly walked in pushing an empty wheelchair before him.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’m ten, not ninety.”

  “Rules are rules, sweetie.”

  She almost smiled back at him. Doctor Theeron was nice. Maybe too nice. Amanda remembered something her father said about a man that once worked for him. He tries too hard. She nodded instead and sunk into the cold leather of the chair.

  “We can take it from here, George,” Hubert said to the orderly. He wheeled Amanda around and began pushing her towards the door.

  She pointed to the long window the doctor had been staring through minutes earlier. “Wait. What’s in there?”

  He hesitated for a moment. “More children, dear. They’re sleeping.”

  “I want to see them.”

  “Of course you do.” Hubert sounded mildly frustrated.

  He pushed her to the glass and placed the wheelchair beside it so she could see through. Amanda saw another dozen beds lined in two rows. All of them were filled with snoozing kids. The lights were set low. “Is it night time?”

  “No, it’s just past five in the afternoon,” he answered honestly enough. “The boys and girls inside there are like you... survivors of the Restructuring. Unfortunately they had a rougher time of it on the outside than you. Do you know what radiation sickness is, Amanda?”

  She pictured her brother retching into the snow behind the cabin at Odin Lake. “Kind of.”

  “These children are suffering from the cumulative effects. It’s best to keep them separated from the healthier ones.”

  “Are they going to die?”

  “Heavens, no. Radiation sickness is quite treatable these days. The kids here will be back on their feet before you know it.”

  Amanda leaned on the wheelchair arm for a better look. “Is Michael in there somewhere?”

  “Your brother was becoming quite ill, wasn’t he?”

  She didn’t like the way he said that. “Sometimes, but he’s strong. Please tell me where he is.”

  Hubert pulled her away from the window and started for the door again. “Michael is in another part of the facility, and yes, he will be fine.”

  “Then when can I see him? When can I see Nicholas?” They were headed down a long corridor lined with doors and windows. Amanda peeked in one and saw another nurse feeding a baby from a bottle.

  “You’ll have to give us a bit of time. There are many survivors here. Hundreds of poor, lost souls. It takes time to get everyone and everything... organized.”

  Amanda had a feeling he was going to say restructured.

  He rolled her out of the hallway and into another elevator. She felt her stomach drop and knew they were moving up. It was a short ride. The elevator dinged and the doors opened up into a large room filled with tables and chairs. Adults dressed in sky-blue pajamas were sitting at most of them, drinking from Styrofoam cups and eating out of little plastic bowls. She could smell food cooking somewhere. It made her mouth water.

  Hubert left her at one of the empty tables and went to a counter where more food was being brought out from the back. A younger man and woman stared at her from the table next to her. They didn’t say a word. They didn’t smile. Hubert returned with one of the bowls, a spoon, and a tiny packet of crackers sealed in plastic. “There you go, dear. Now go slow, your tummy hasn’t had solid food in days. I wouldn’t want to see you get sick.”

  Amanda didn’t take his advice. She ignored the spoon and lifted the bowl to her lips. It wasn’t all that hot, but it was good. Chicken noodle with little chunks that may or may not have been meat mixed with peas and carrots. Amanda gulped it all down and tore into the crackers. The people seated all around them continued to stare. One woman began to weep.

  “I don’t like this place,” Amanda finally said, stifling a small burp back down. “Can we go somewhere else?”

  “Of course. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to bed. I can show you more tomorrow.” They returned to the elevator. Hubert pressed a button on the panel next to the door and they began to move. It lurched to a stop seconds later. “Not again.” He pressed the button a second time but nothing happened. He hit more buttons. The elevator remained where it was. “It’s a new facility,” he explained. “There are still bugs that need to be worked out.” Hubert called someone on his handheld and explained their situation.

  They stood and sat in silence for the next four minutes. Amanda could see sweat building on the doctor’s forehead and cheekbones. He didn’t like small spaces, and he disliked being trapped in them even less.

  Another minute passed and the doors dinged. One of them slid open, revealing layers of concrete and steel, but the elevator remained where it was, stuck between levels. There was less than an eighteen inch gap near the bottom revealing another open floor.

  “You going to call someone again?” Amanda asked.

  Hubert’s fingers were shaking. He dropped the handheld and it bounced through the opening with a clatter. “Shit!” He tried to compose himself. “Sorry for the language, dear. Can you crawl down onto the next floor and get it?”

  Amanda looked at the opening and tried her best not to imagine the elevator moving again with her hanging halfway out. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Please, you’ll be okay, I promise.”

  It looked as though he were fighting not to curse again. Amanda didn’t want to hear him start screaming. She climbed out of the wheelchair and crawled backwards over the floor edge. The tops of her knees had just cleared the sharp metal edge of the floor plate when the unthinkable started to happen. The elevator began to move up.

  Amanda could only see Dr. Theeron’s shoes. She’s expected him to move forward and try to help. He backed away instead. She pushed away along the floor until the rest of her body dropped clear. The elevator whisked off somewhere above, barely avoiding taking her head with it. The doors closed quietly, leaving Amanda all alone in a dimly lit corridor.

  The doctor would expect to her to wait where she was. He would come for her in a few minutes, or send someone to fetch her back. Perhaps Nurse Chauk and her big horse teeth would come looking for her. Amanda backed away from the elevator doors. Why should she wait? Dr. Theeron, as nice as he seemed, hadn’t told her where her brother was, or what had become of all the others. She would have to find them on her own.

  Amanda set off down the corridor. She looked into darkened rooms, calling her brother’s name. No one answered. Whatever floor this was that she’d dropped onto appeared shut down for the day. The rooms were all alike—neat, tidy, and filled with equipment that wouldn’t look out of place in a hospital. Or a laboratory.

  There was a sign on the door at the very end of the corridor that read Antenatal Research. Amanda had no idea what that meant, and didn’t care. She needed answers to questions Dr. Theeron was unwilling to give her. She went inside. It wasn’t as dark as the other empty rooms. Cool blue light buzzed through plastic grates set in the ceiling, revealing a space filled with rows of metal tables and frightening looking machines.

  Amanda ran her fingers along the smooth surface of one of the tables, realizing she wouldn’t find what she wanted here, but too scared to turn back. There was something not right a
bout this floor—this room especially. Antenatal. She sounded the word in her brain. It were as if Amanda should’ve had an idea what it meant, but couldn’t remember. Or perhaps it reminded her of a similar sounding word. That seemed more likely. Antenatal.

  She came to the table’s end and saw another open door leading into a second blue-lit room to her left.

  Don’t go in there.

  The voice in her head was her own, but sounded like Michael. She went through anyway and saw an entire wall before her stacked with glass canisters. They were all filled with milky liquid to the top. Amanda could see objects floating in each of them. There were dozens of them, hundreds. The things suspended inside varied in size. Some were no larger than a pea, others bigger than her fist.

  Leave. Get out.

  Amanda stepped closer, her eyes drawn to one particular container. The liquid inside was dark, almost black. She reached out and tapped a finger against the cold glass. The canister rocked slightly beneath her touch. Something white floated out through the murk and thumped lightly against the container’s interior.

  It was round, egg-shaped. It shifted in the liquid a little more, and Amanda saw two little black spots in the center. Inches below that, four tiny fingers appeared. They rubbed lifelessly along the glass.

  Amanda stepped back, taking in the sight of a hundred dead, unborn babies. She had walked willingly into her worst nightmare.

  A hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.

  Other Books by Geoff North:

  How the World Ends (Extinction of Us Book 1)

  Live Again (Out of Time Book 1)

  Last Contact (Out of Time Book 2)

  Lost Playground (Out of Time Book 3)

  All Inclusive (Out of Time Book 4)

  Ambition (The Long Haul Book 1)

  Retribution (The Long Haul Book 2)