Days 5 to 8 (Mass Extinction Event Book 2) Page 15

  "I came back because of you," I continue. "I came back because you're my brother, and because I know you're not gonna let Bob do this. You heard him. He wants to sleep with me and get me pregnant so we can start a new generation. The guy's crazy, Henry. There are rats all over the place. There's gonna be disease everywhere soon, and the city's gonna become like a cesspit. If we stay here, we'll die a slow, horrible death. Bob's crazy. He thinks he's the king of this castle, but he's got nothing. What's he gonna do when he finishes eating those bodies? Where's he gonna get his next meat from? Rats?"

  "Bob's got everything under control," Henry says, sounding a little defensive. It's as if I've finally started to get through to him.

  "Bob's an ass," I say. "He doesn't understand. He thinks he's got the world sorted out, but he's just living on this island that's getting smaller and smaller. He thinks he's justified in hurting people and killing people and eating people, but it's all in his head. If we get out of here, we can go follow the others, Mallory and the others, and we can maybe find somewhere we can really start over. Mom and Dad aren't coming back -"

  "They might," he snaps back at me.

  "No," I say. "Really not. You're just saying that because it's an excuse to sit here and hope for a miracle. They're gone, Henry, and we have to do what's right for us. We have to get the hell out of this place".

  "Bob said you'd say that," he replies. There's definitely a new sense of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he's starting to doubt the things he's saying.

  "You know what Bob's gonna do to me?" I ask, deciding it's time to really ram things home. "He's gonna torture me a little, just to soften me up, and then he's gonna have sex with me so he can -"

  Henry shakes his head.

  "So he can get me pregnant with his little Bob spawn, and he thinks we're gonna build this new civilization, and all the while we're gonna be eating those dead bodies behind me -"

  "No," Henry says, his voice faltering. "That's not what's gonna happen".

  "It's exactly what he said he's gonna do!" I reply, raising my voice a little. "You heard him! Word for word, that's what he's gonna do! Think about it, Henry. He's gonna get on top of me and have sex with me on the pretext of somehow saving civilization, and we're gonna stay in this building while a rising tide of filth and disease surrounds us, and eventually we'll be stuck here like we're on an island, except the filth and the rats are gonna start coming higher and higher up the building until we'll be up on the roof with nowhere to go!"

  "No," Henry says again.

  "Yes!"

  "Why?" Henry replies. "Why would Bob do that? Why would Bob do something that's gonna end up like that? He wouldn't. He's got a plan -"

  "Because he's unhinged," I say. "Because he thinks he's the leader of some new, brave world that's gonna rise from the ashes of what we used to have. It's not gonna work, Henry. Look at this place. It's been one week since everything started. The people I met, Mallory and the others, are setting off to start a new life outside the city. Bob, meanwhile, has already got you eating human meat, with a gun in your hand, while he plans to hurt your own sister". I pause for a moment, hoping my words might sink in. "Bob's right when he says things have to change," I continue eventually, "but his version of that change is totally, completely wrong".

  Henry stares at me, as if he's finally starting to really think about what I'm saying. I hate seeing him like this, lost and confused, but it's the only way I'm ever going to get him away from Bob.

  "Untie me," I say firmly, "and we'll get out of here. We won't hurt Bob. We won't even take any of his food or his other supplies. We'll just leave, and we'll go catch up to the others. There's still time, Henry. You're not locked into this".

  "I can't leave Bob alone," he says. "I can let you go, but I have to stay".

  I shake my head.

  "Why not?" he asks.

  "Because you're my brother," I tell him.

  He sighs.

  "I'm sticking with you," I say. "I'm not leaving you with this madman. If I have to, I'll..." I pause, as I realize that I might be forced to take drastic action if I'm gonna get Henry away from Bob. After all, if Bob died, there'd be nothing to keep Henry here. I hate the idea of killing someone, but if that's the price I have to pay in order to get Henry out of here, then I guess it's something I'll have to do. "Untie me," I say. "We'll stay, at least for a couple of days".

  He stares at me.

  "Henry, we -"

  "I'll let you go," he says, suddenly, hurrying behind me and starting to loosen the ropes.

  "What about you?" I ask, pulling my hands free as Henry starts working on the ropes around my legs.

  "I'm gonna persuade Bob to come with us," he says.

  "Henry -"

  "He'll come around," he continues. "He'll see that we have to leave the city. He's not an idiot. I'll explain it to him. He'll get it, he has to".

  "And if he doesn't?" I ask, standing up.

  "He will".

  Hurrying over to the bench, I reach out to grab the gun before pausing for a moment. There's something about guns that I really, really hate. I grab a knife instead, figuring that at least a knife has uses other than just to kill.

  "This way," Henry says, grabbing my hand and dragging me across the room.

  "Where are we going?" I ask.

  "You're gonna get out of here and wait for us," he says. "I'm gonna find Bob and make him understand what we have to do".

  We head through to the yard, and then into the back of the restaurant. Hurrying across the empty kitchen, we eventually reach a small side door that should lead into the main dining area and then, eventually, to the street.

  "Can you wait here?" Henry asks. "I won't need long".

  "You can't trust Bob," I say.

  "I can".

  "You can't. If you try to reason with him -"

  "Trust me!" he shouts. "Trust me that I can make him see sense. Bob's not my boss. I wasn't working with him 'cause he brainwashed me, I was working with him because I agreed with him. We're equals. I can make him see sense. We'll leave all of this behind, but we're taking Bob with us".

  "Is that right?" calls out a voice from nearby.

  Turning, I see that Bob is standing a few meters away, a grin on his face and his rifle pointed straight at us.

  "I was just coming to find you," Henry stutters, with panic in his eyes.

  "So I heard," Bob replies. "I heard the whole damn caboodle. I've gotta say, Henry, I'm a little disappointed in the way your sister here was able to turn you so easily. I thought you'd put up more of a fight, but I figured I'd better test you first. That's why I left you alone with her. I'm sorry to say, you failed that test miserably".

  "It's not like that," Henry says, stepping toward him. "I just listened to what she said, and maybe she's right".

  "You're allowing old world feelings to cloud your judgment," Bob says. "You're not seeing the world as it truly is, Henry. Just because she's your sister, doesn't mean you have to swallow her bullshit. Do you really think the best option is just to go running out of the city and into the wilderness like fucking apes? Abandon everything we've got here? All that stuff about disease, that's not gonna happen. It could, but it won't. You know why it won't? 'Cause I've got a fucking plan. I'm gonna deal with it. I'm gonna stop it. I'm gonna make sure we're all safe. I just need some people with me who actually believe in what I'm doing, rather than having their head turned by their sister."

  "But if we leave -" Henry starts to say.

  "You know what?" Bob replies, interrupting him. "This whole family thing is overblown anyway. Brother, sister, all that shit. It's a relic of an old world. Who gives a shit whether you came out of the same birth canal? You're individuals. You're not joined at the hip. Elizabeth shouldn't mean any more or any less to you than me, or than Mallory, or than anyone. No-one bound to make dumb-ass decisions just 'cause they've got these stupid family ties".

  "Henry," I say, "let's just go. If Bob wants to sit around here and ro
t, let him. But we need to -"

  "Shoot her," Bob says suddenly.

  Henry turns to him.

  "What?" I say, my heart turning to ice.

  "You hear me, boy," Bob continues, staring at Henry. "You've got a weapon. You know how to use it. I'm giving you a direct order. Elizabeth is a threat to our survival. She's shown time and again that she's not a team player. She hid the existence of that little library up in Harrison Blake's room and, more seriously, she went directly against my orders and freed that Mallory girl. Now she's trying to foment revolution. It's time to get rid of her, and throwing her out the door clearly ain't gonna work. So I'm telling you. Shoot her".

  Henry turns to look at me, and I can see that he's torn.

  "You can't seriously be considering doing this," I say, starting to back away.

  Slowly, Henry aims the rifle at me.

  "Henry -"

  "Every second you wait," Bob says, interrupting, "is another question about your loyalty".

  "Henry," I shout, "don't listen to him!"

  "Family don't mean a thing," Bob continues. "If she wasn't your sister, you'd have no hesitation in gunning her down, so put all that familial bullshit to one side. In the world today, your family are the people who stand beside you, not the people who happen to have been born to the same bloodline". He pauses, waiting for Henry to pull the trigger. "If family's so fucking important," Bob says after a moment, "then how come it's basically a fucking accident of fate, huh? Why the hell are you supposed to be loyal and devoted to someone based on a fucking fluke?"

  Henry stares at me, with the rifle pointed straight at my head.

  "Henry -" I say.

  "I'm sorry," he whispers, before turning, aiming the rifle straight at Bob, and pulling the trigger.

  Nothing.

  Just a clicking sound.

  Bob stares at Henry for a moment, and finally a smile starts to spread on his face. "Just as I thought," he says eventually. "No fucking loyalty. You can't imagine how bad I felt, boy, when I emptied your gun this morning. But now I see I was right to do it".

  "Henry, let's go," I say, reaching out and grabbing my brother's arm.

  "Fuck you," Bob says, pulling a handgun from his pocket, aiming it at us and firing.

  "Get out of the way!" I shout, pulling Henry away, but I'm not quick enough. The bullet hits him square in the chest and he jolts backward, landing with a heavy thud against the concrete floor.

  THOMAS

  Oklahoma

  "That old thing?" Clyde smiles, but it's an awkward smile, as if he's been caught out. "Yeah, that doesn't work. It's had problems for years".

  "But it might work," I say, eying him suspiciously. "I mean, it's worth a shot. What's wrong with it?"

  "It won't start".

  "So there's a problem with the ignition?"

  "Maybe".

  "Or the motor?"

  He shrugs.

  "And you never got it checked out?"

  "Not really," he says. "I guess I always thought I had a little time to do it, but then things kind of snowballed". He pauses for a moment. "So, anyway, I found a bunch of towels. You're gonna need them if your brother starts bleeding. Not that they'll do much good, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, blood's better in than out".

  Heading over to the little key-hanger by the door, I quickly find what appears to be a key to Clyde's truck. Removing it from the hanger, I hold it up for him to see. "This the right one?"

  He nods, but he doesn't seem sure.

  "You mind if I go and give it a try?"

  "It doesn't work," he says.

  "What doesn't?" I ask, feeling that he's being deliberately vague. "The truck or the key?"

  "The truck. The truck doesn't work".

  "Huh". I put the key in my pocket. "So are you going now?"

  "Me?"

  "You said you were gonna get towels, and then you were gonna get out of here".

  He sighs. "I guess that was bravado. I mean, how the hell am I gonna get past those things out there?"

  "They're just standing around," I point out.

  "And you think they'll keep just standing around if one of us goes out there?"

  "Then you can out-run them," I say. "You managed it before".

  "Yeah, but they're... There's so many of them, Thomas. There must be forty, fifty of the damn things. I'm not exactly in the prime of life. I can run down the street, but if they keep up, I'm gonna be screwed".

  "Then what's your plan?" I ask. Something's definitely, definitely not right here. Clyde's inconsistent. He says one thing, then he says another. He says he wants to get out of here, but then he comes up with reasons why he has to stay. I know it's dangerous to assume that everyone's gonna be logical all the time, but I still feel as if there are hidden undercurrents with Clyde, as if there's some unspoken problem that's affecting his decisions. I don't trust the guy at all, and I'm pretty sure he's hiding something.

  "I don't really have a plan," he says eventually. "My plan was for our brother to fix the truck, and then we'd get out of here".

  "Which truck?" I ask. "Our truck, or your truck?"

  "I don't have a truck," he says, seeming a little annoyed. "That's why I tried to take your truck the other day".

  "But you do have a truck".

  "It doesn't work!" He pauses. "Okay, I should have maybe asked your brother to take a look at mine, but I figured he was gonna get yours working eventually, and I didn't know those things were gonna turn up outside". He looks down at Joe. "I don't know if this is the right time to say this," he adds, "but your brother's getting sick. Real sick. Sicker than ever. I think we need to start preparing for the worst".

  "He's not gonna die," I say, momentarily angry before I realize that Clyde seems to be trying to distract me. My questions have definitely rattled him, and I'm starting to see that I need to come up with a plan. "Do you have any spare bed-sheets?" I ask after a moment.

  "Bed-sheets?"

  I nod, reaching into my pocket and feeling the key to Clyde's truck. I need to hope and pray that this is the right key, and that the truck works properly. Right now, that thing is our only ticket out of Scottsville, and I don't have time to come up with a back-up plan.

  "What do you want bed-sheets for?"

  "I want to make Joe more comfortable. I was thinking of moving the table into your front-room, if that's okay? It's kinda cold through here".

  "You think?"

  I nod.

  Clyde stares at me for a moment. "I guess," he says cautiously. "I can go look for bed-sheets. They're probably upstairs, I'll..." He pauses again, as if he's trying to work out what I'm planning. "I'll go get them".

  "I'm gonna move the table," I say.

  "You want help?"

  "No," I say quickly. "I can do it".

  "I'll just be a couple of minutes," he says, before heading over to the foot of the stairs. He glances back at me, as if he's started to realize that I'm up to something. For a moment, I think he might be about to confront me, but finally he smiles awkwardly, before going up to look for the bed-sheets. I'm guessing it'll take him a minute or two, because for some reason, I'm increasingly certain that this was never Clyde's house to begin with. I don't think he even knew that there was a truck in the garage, and I don't think he just happened to get caught by us the other day. For some reason, he seems to have wanted to get into this situation. I guess it's possible that I've become crazy and paranoid, but I can't shake the feeling that he's plotting something. He's definitely not what he seems, and I need to get away from him as fast as possible.

  "Okay, Joe," I say, making sure to speak clearly so that Clyde will be able to hear me from upstairs. "I'm just gonna move you out of this draft". Grabbing the side of the table, I start dragging it across the kitchen, with Joe still on top. I'm careful not to nudge the sides, since I feel as if even the slightest bump could cause Joe's wound to re-open, but I have to get him through to the next room. What I need most of all is to get him th
e hell away from this place.

  "Is that better?" I say, once I've got Joe through to the front-room. I hurry over to the door that leads to the garage, and then I go through and open the back of the truck. So far, everything's going according to plan. I quickly make a bed of towels, and then I head back to Joe. This is gonna be the difficult part. Carrying Joe to the truck would be difficult at the best of times, since I'm not exactly the strongest guy around; there's also the matter of the wound on his side, which looks as if it could start bleeding again at any moment. Finally, telling myself that I can't delay another second, I put my arms under Joe and pick him up. He's heavier than I expected, but I have no choice.

  "Sorry," I whisper, as I struggle to carry him through the door and into the garage. To my relief, however, I'm able to quickly get him onto the back of the truck, and his wound seems to remain stable. The dried blood remains in place, and nothing else seems to be oozing out. Not yet, anyway. "We're out of here," I whisper, even though I'm not sure whether he can hear me. "I'm just gonna grab a couple of bottles of water from the kitchen". Hurrying to the front of the truck, I grab the key from my pocket and unlock the driver's side door. A sense of relief floods over me as I realize that I've got the right keys. I glance at the ignition; I know Clyde said that the truck doesn't work, but I don't believe him. I think the truck was news to him, and I need to get a move on before he comes back downstairs. He already seems a little suspicious of me, and I can't keep coming up with excuses to get him out of the way.

  Hurrying back to the kitchen, I grab a couple of bottles of water. It's crazy to think that I'm going to just abandon all the supplies on the truck, but I can't risk going out the front door. These two bottles are going to have to be enough, at least until we can find somewhere to re-stock. Suddenly it strikes me that even if Clyde's truck is working, I have no idea whether there's any gas in the tank; I guess I just have to hope for the best. I can't have everything planned out in advance. Just as I'm about to head back to the garage, I hear Clyde coming downstairs. I have time to pull the door to the front-room shut, before Clyde reappears carrying a pile of bed-sheets.