by Cross, Amy
“Bill Patterson took control once Boston had been attacked,” Bloom explains. “Most of the invading army moved on to take other cities, but Patterson stayed behind. He's a sick man, and his illness has twisted his mind. I don't know exactly what he's up to, but I can't stand by and let him destroy Boston. I hoped to stop him by getting close to him, and I almost managed that. He's paranoid, and I can't quite get close enough, so I reached out to the people living here in the ruined part of the city. I was very fortunate that I managed to find Natalie, and that she's ready and willing to lead the charge.”
I open my mouth to ask if he's serious, but for a moment I can only stare at him. Charles Bloom is such a changeling, and right now he seems to be playing all sides at once. I want to believe that he's telling me the truth right now, but I can't shake the feeling that it's all just another lie.
“You're suspicious,” he says after a few seconds. “I understand that.”
“I don't get why you're doing this,” I say cautiously. “Patterson's insane now, I can tell that. He's trying to get to this Project Atherius place, but -”
“You know about Project Atherius?” Bloom asks.
“I know that people suddenly seem to be going crazy about it,” I tell him. “I don't really know what it is.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then his smile returns.
“Neither do I,” he adds finally, with a shrug that seems just a little theatrical. “Like you, I've merely heard it mentioned a few times. It certainly seems to have attracted Patterson's attention, however. In fact, I'm starting to think that it might be the reason that he's losing his mind.”
“And you really don't know what it is?” I ask. “Or where it is?”
“I can't say that I've given the matter a great deal of thought,” he replies. “I'm focused on the people of Boston, and on the need to bring everyone together so that we can create our own future.”
“Patterson has control of a zombie swarm,” Natalie explains. “We don't know the details, but when he brings it to the city, nobody will survive. By then he'll be gone, of course. Apparently he's planning to leave within a day or two, and he's going to destroy the city on his way out.”
“No, he's not,” Bloom adds, “because we're going to stop him.” He turns to Natalie. “The final preparations have been completed. You know what to do. Just don't be late. And now I have to go back and make sure that everything is in place. Don't let me down, Natalie. This might be our last chance to save our glorious city.”
He turns and nods at me, and then he walks away. Two soldiers are with him, and then flank him as he hurries along the street.
“Huh,” Natalie says after a moment. “I never noticed the cape before. That's a little ostentatious, don't you think?”
“You can't trust that man,” I reply, turning to her.
“Because of the cape?”
“Because of who he is!” I say firmly. “He claims to be on everyone's side, but I'm pretty sure he only cares about himself. And I don't believe for one moment that he doesn't know about Project Atherius. He's lying again.”
“You're wrong,” she replies, “and do you know how I know that?”
She pauses, before leaning closer and whispering into my ear.
“I've started to hear voices, Lizzie,” she explains. “They're telling me that this is the right thing to do. I don't know who or what they are, but they've told me I can trust Charles Bloom. I'm like Joan of friggin' Arc out here, and I'm not going to back down.”
“But -”
“You'll see soon enough,” she adds. “We're making our move real soon, Lizzie. We're going to take this city back. The voices have told me.”
She's insane.
Thomas
Opening my un-swollen eye, I see a soldier peering at me.
“You're awake,” he says. “Good. Now we can get on with this.”
Startled, I look around and find that I've been tied to a post in a large, open square somewhere in the city. There are a few hundred people standing nearby, watching, and then I turn to see several soldiers standing a short distance away. Then, hearing a faint sobbing sound, I turn the other way and see that Caitlin is tied to another post, and I watch for a moment as she struggles to get free.
“I don't like disloyalty,” Patterson says, and I turn to see that he's next to the line of soldiers. He's wearing some kind of makeshift balaclava that mostly covers his rotten features. I guess he doesn't want people to see that he's sick. “Caitlin Foster, you were disloyal to your city when you agreed to hide the vials. And then you were disloyal to Mr. Edgewater when you decided to turn them over to me. That's two strikes against you, and I'm afraid I don't give third chances. All that's left is for your sorry story to serve as a warning to the gathered crowd and -”
“No!” she screams. “I'll do anything, just let me go!”
“I'm sure everyone can see that this sorry spectacle is a disgrace,” Patterson continues, with a trace of sadness in his voice. “Let this be a lesson.”
“No!” she shouts again, still struggling wildly. “I'll do anything!”
“Get it over with,” Patterson adds.
The soldiers raise their guns.
“Please!” Caitlin screams. “Don't -”
Before she can finish, several shots ring out and I watch in horror as her body shudders violently. One shot hits the wall behind her, but the rest strike her in the chest. She slumps forward, still held up by the ropes, and now her dead eyes are wide open and patches of blood begin to spread across the fabric of her dress. The square is silent now, and finally I think – though I'm not certain – that I hear one final, faint gasp coming from Caitlin's death mouth.
“That's what happens to people who have no loyalty,” Patterson continues, before turning to me. At the same time, the soldiers aim their guns in my direction. “The world would be a sorry place if nobody stood by their word, Mr. Edgewater. Don't you agree?”
“Go to Hell!” I snap.
“I'm going to give you a chance, Thomas,” Patterson continues, as the crowd watches on. “I'm impressed by you. If you're willing to renounce your association with Doctor Carter and pledge yourself to working with me, I'll have you untied and you can walk away a free man. How does that sound?”
I stare at him for a moment, filled with anger.
“Go,” I say finally, “to Hell.”
“Are you sure you don't want to think about it for a few seconds?” Patterson asks. “It's a good deal. All you have to do is swear your allegiance to me. It's just words, Thomas. Are you really willing to die out of sheer stubbornness? Don't let your life end this way. You've survived for so long, and you really have a great deal of potential. Think of your family. They're all gone, aren't they? Would they want you to survive?” He pauses. “Say it,” he adds finally. “Say you'll be loyal from now on, and you don't have to die.”
He waits.
For a moment, I consider taking his offer. After all, I could find a chance to escape later. Quickly, however, I realize that I could never live with myself.
I'd rather die doing the right thing, than bend over and say anything to survive.
“Go to Hell,” I say for the third time. “Maybe I'll even see you there.”
Patterson stares at me for a few seconds, before turning to the soldiers.
“Okay,” he mutters with a tired, perhaps slightly disappointed sigh. “You know what to do.”
The soldiers adjust their aims. For a moment, time seems to stand still and it's as if my whole life is compressed into this instant. I think of my parents, and of Joe and Martha, and of Melissa and Katie and George and Quinn and Annie Devereaux from school and then my parents again, and I remember what it was like to be on the farm in the summer, and I swear I can smell the fields again. It all seems so real, as if I'm actually going back there, and suddenly I realize that maybe this is what happens next. Maybe when I die, I'm just going to bounce back from the end of my life and go back through i
t all. Maybe that's what's waiting for all of us. We stop using time to track our lives, and we just bounce endlessly through all the moments. Maybe I'm going to see everyone again.
And then the soldiers pull their triggers.
I don't even flinch.
I wait, but the guns merely clicked. Where are the bullets? I want them. I'm ready for this. And after a moment I start to feel angry as I realize that there's no way several guns could all mis-fire at the same time. I got lucky a few days ago, when Robert Clayborne tried to kill me, but that can't be what's happening here. Finally, hearing footsteps nearby, I turn to see that General Patterson is coming closer.
He stops and stares for a moment, and then he smiles.
“If you'd accepted my offer,” he says finally, “you'd be dead by now. I value loyalty above all else, and as far as I can tell you've never betrayed anyone. That's good, Thomas. That's something I need in a man. All I need to do now is to make you understand that you need to be on my side. Then I'll know I can trust you implicitly.”
“Go to Hell,” I reply.
“You'll come around,” he chuckles. “You're too smart not to.”
“Go to Hell!” I shout, struggling against the ropes. “Get it over with! I'll never do anything for you, so you might as well kill me now!”
“I'm going to give you some time to think about that,” he replies, turning and walking away as the soldiers come to get me. “Think hard, Thomas, and think fast. We're working to a timetable here.”
“Get back here!” I shout, as the soldiers start untying Caitlin's dead body. “Finish what you started! I'll never work for you! I'll kill you, Patterson! Do you hear me? When I get out of these ropes I'm going to kill you!”
Elizabeth
“Hey, are you cold? Do you need this?”
Startled by the sound of a voice in the darkness, I turn to see that a woman has come over to me and is holding out a blanket. I'm a little way from the fire that the others have been using for warmth and, to be honest, I have started to shiver slightly.
“It's okay,” she continues, with a kind, friendly smile. “It's clean. I washed it. You don't have to worry about disease.”
“Thanks,” I reply, “but I'm fine.”
“It's freezing.”
“Honestly, I'm fine.”
She pauses, before setting the blanket down.
“I'll just leave it here,” she says, “in case you change your mind. And if you want to come and join the rest of us, you're more than welcome. Aren't you hungry?”
“No,” I lie.
“Or thirsty?”
I shake my head.
“Well, like I said...” She pauses, and then she turns to go. “If you change your mind.”
“Are you really going to follow her back into the main part of the city?” I ask suddenly. “Do you really think you've got enough people here to form an army?”
“Natalie's going to lead us,” the woman replies, turning back to me.
“Sure, but into what? Defeat? Death?”
“If we don't have hope, we don't have anything,” she explains. “What else are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait to die? At least if we fight, we might be able to gain a future. And if we fail, then... Well, then we'll fail doing the right thing.”
“But Natalie's not...” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I don't think she's well.”
The woman stares at me for a few seconds, before turning and pointing at a nearby street.
“I shouldn't tell you this,” she says, “but go along there, for about five minutes. When you reach the ruins of an old bookstore, go inside very carefully and very quietly.”
“Why?”
“You'll see.”
“But why?”
“I can't tell you. You have to experience it for yourself. But hurry, because she might not be there for much longer. I stumbled upon her one night, I haven't told anyone else, but I think it might be good for you to listen. Go.”
“Can't you just tell me what's in there?” I ask.
She takes a step back and smiles, and then she puts a finger to her lips before turning and hurrying back toward the figure.
“Can't you at least give me a clue?” I call after her. “Do you have to be so mysterious about everything?”
***
As soon as I reach the old bookstore, I realize I can see a faint, flickering glow of candlelight coming from inside. I stop at the smashed window, with the blanket around my shoulders, and for a moment I can't help worrying that this journey might be dangerous.
I look both ways along the street, but all I see is darkness.
And then, as I turn back to look into the store, I realize I can hear a familiar voice speaking softly somewhere near the light.
As I'd kind of guessed already, Natalie's here.
I step very carefully through the broken window, making sure not to make a noise. I can't shake the feeling that somehow I'm intruding, but the woman was so insistent and she seemed to really think that I'll find something useful here. I haven't seen Natalie for a few hours, and I'd assumed she was off carrying out more crazy preparations with her so-called army, but now it seems that she's been here. All alone. In a ruined bookstore. Just talking to herself.
I step toward the end of an aisle, and when I look along I see that Natalie is on her knees at the far end. She has her back to me, and she seems to be praying before a solitary candle. She's talking, showing no sign that she knows I'm here, but I can't quite make out any of what she's saying.
Stepping back a little, I start making my way along the adjacent aisle. When I'm almost at the far end, I crouch down, and sure enough I find that there's a slight gap between the books. I can just about see the side of Natalie's head, and now I realize that she has her eyes closed as she continues to talk.
“I know,” she says out loud, “but I worry that everything Elizabeth said was true. There are so few of us, and so many of them. We're hopelessly outnumbered.”
She pauses.
I wait.
“It's hard, though,” she continues. “I look at them and I don't see an army. I see people with nothing left to lose, and you keeping saying that -”
She stops suddenly, and I realize that she thinks she can hear voices talking to her. She really is out of her mind. For a moment, I start worrying that she might be sick, that maybe she's hearing that Joseph guy who seemed to be able to move through the thoughts of zombies, but there's really nothing to suggest that Natalie's ill at all. At least, not in that way. It's more that she seems to genuinely believe everything she's been saying about surviving. She's somehow talked herself into believing that she's destined to do something great.
“I know it's their choice,” she says suddenly. “I haven't forced them to join me. But I worry I'm giving them false hope. I can't protect them, not if things get bad. And I'm still not certain about Charles Bloom, he seems almost too good to be true.”
She falls silent again. She's listening, no doubt, to more of the voices. Part of me wants to interrupt her, to tell her that this is all crazy, but at the same time I don't want to upset her.
“Can you give me that?” she asks, and slowly she raises her left hand. “Can you? Please give it to me. I can't get it any other way. I need it if I'm going to lead them, I can't do it any other way. I need you to give it to me. For them.”
I don't know what she's talking about, but she seems absolutely convinced that she's hearing replies to her questions. And then, suddenly, she starts to turn this way.
I pull out of sight just in time, although I hold my breath and I'm worried she might know that I'm here.
I wait in silence.
“I think it's going to be tomorrow,” she says finally, and I lean down and see that she's praying again. “You need to hurry. If you're going to give it to me, give it to me tonight. I'll need it when I talk to them. You know I can't do it otherwise.” She pauses. “I need it by the time the fire comes. I need it to get through the fir
e. If I don't have it, the fire will consume us all.”
Day 113
Thomas
“Will you please just stop talking?” I snap finally, after trying for so long to hold myself back. “I don't want to hear it! It doesn't help us get out of here!”
“Well,” Doctor Carter said from the next cell along, in the darkness of the room, “someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”
“I didn't get out of a bed at all,” I reply, as I continue to fiddle with the lock on my door. “I'm not going to sit around here, waiting until Patterson decides to come and gloat at me again. I'm getting out of here.”
“The locks are old but sturdy,” she says. “I've had a few days' head-start on you, Thomas. If we're getting out of here, it won't be by breaking those things. We'll have to be more -”
“Can you just be quiet?” I ask.
“I'm merely trying to help.”
“I can't think if you're talking all the time!”
“And since when was thinking your strong point?”
“Where I grew up,” I reply, “we had to figure things out for ourselves. We didn't have fancy facilities, and we didn't have loads of money to throw at things. So when we had a problem, we figured out how to fix it, and then we got the job done.”
“Really?” she says. “You think that kind of can-do attitude is going to help us now? Alright, MacGyver, do your best, but if you want my advice then maybe you should focus on -”
“Just stop talking!” I say firmly.
“But -”
“Stop!”
I wait, staring into the darkness, unable to see her.
Sighing, I turn back to the lock and start working once more. Carter was right, this thing is big and old-fashioned, and it seems to be resisting all my efforts so far. I'm sure Carter has some fancy idea about how to break this thing open, and in the back of my mind I can already hear her voice mocking me and going on about some ridiculous theory. In fact, the more I try to work out how the lock can be opened, the more I feel certain that Carter's watching me with a smile. She's so full of herself, she probably thinks I'm just some little idiot who can't operate anything. She probably thinks I'm some dirt-born idiot who finds the world too complicated. She probably thinks -
