Mass Extinction Event (Book 2): Days 9-16 Read online

  Hearing a noise outside, I duck down for a moment. I wait, but the whole place is silent again. Still, I know I heard something, like a brief shuffling, scratching sound. I take a deep breath and tell myself that there's no option other than to go and take a look. I doubt the occupants of the house have come back, and hopefully none of those creatures have got this far, so I guess the most likely thing is that there's just some animal out there.

  I walk over to the window and take a look outside. There's no sign of anything, so I quickly climb out and then, keeping the gun pointing straight ahead, I hurry over to the truck.

  "Fuck!" Joe says, reaching up and trying to grab something from the other side of the flat-bed shelf.

  "Hey!" I call out, as I realize that Joe must have been the cause of the noise I heard. "Are you awake?"

  "Give me that!" he mutters, trying to get hold of a small wood ax that's resting in the back of the truck. "Are you fucking deaf? Give it to me!"

  Climbing onto the back of the truck, I reach out to grab the ax, before turning to Joe. "What do you want it for?" I ask.

  "What do you think?" he replies breathlessly.

  "I don't know," I say.

  "Just fucking give it to me," he splutters, "and then drag me out a bit into the woods."

  "Why?" I ask.

  "Do I have to fucking spell it out to you?" he shouts, before coughing up a small amount of blood. "Look at me," he continues. "I'm dying. There's no fucking point trying to pretend I'm not."

  "You're not gonna kill yourself," I tell him, feeling a cold chill pass through my body.

  "Fuck you," he says, trying but failing to grab the ax from my hand.

  "No way," I say, moving away from him. "You're gonna get better."

  "It hurts!" he shouts, his bloodshot eyes filled with anger and fear. Reaching his shoulder, he pulls away the sheets that have been covering him, revealing the full extent of his injuries. One entire side of his upper chest has been badly crushed, with fresh blood seeping from wounds that have started to turn a kind of yellowy-black color. "Look at it!" he continues. "This is so fucking far beyond anything, Thomas! It's infected and shit!"

  "I'm gonna get you to a hospital," I tell him.

  "There's no fucking hospital," he continues. "There's no fucking anything." He tries to get up, but the pain is clearly too much and he lets out an agonized scream as he falls back to the floor.

  "You can't give up," I say, terrified of the thought that I might lose him.

  "Please," he whispers, with tears in his eyes. "Do you have any fucking idea how much it hurts to die like this?"

  I shake my head.

  "You know it's gonna happen," he continues. "You're not a fucking doctor, you fucking dip-shit. Even if you try to keep me alive, it's just gonna be one, two days max of fucking agony. Fuck, I'm sweating already. And what if..." He pauses. "What if I've got whatever turned those other people into..." His voice trails off for a moment. "You need to save yourself," he adds eventually. "I've never given a damn about anyone else, but right now, I want you to save yourself. You're the only one of us left, so just leave me here and get going. If you haven't got the guts to kill me, just leave me behind with an ax and drive off, and I'll sort myself out. But I don't want you dying just 'cause you think you can save me. You can't."

  "I'm not leaving you," I tell him.

  "Are you really that fucking stupid?" he asks.

  "I'm not leaving you," I say again, tossing some food at him before I grab one of our last bottles of water and roll it toward him; he pushes it all back to me.

  "Don't waste that shit on me," he says firmly. "Come on, Thomas. You're not this dumb. I know it."

  I stare at him for a moment, trying to decide what to do, and then finally I make a decision. Shuffling off the back of the truck, I start walking toward the house.

  "Thomas!" Joe calls after me. "Get back here! Thomas!"

  Elizabeth

  New York

  "Okay," I say, stopping and leaning against the barrier that runs along the side of the road, "I need to take a break." Having been walking more or less non-stop since the middle of the night, I'm starting to realize that maybe I'm not in very good shape, and it's not as if I'm exactly well-nourished right now. It's been a couple of days since I ate anything that would really count as a full meal, and I'm starting to feel weak. For the first time, I'm actually starting to wonder whether I can manage this four hundred mile walk.

  Looking back the way we came, I see that Dawn has stopped nearby. I swear, she just seems to copy me all the time, almost as if she can't make any decisions of her own. I can't help thinking that she seems to be having a hard time dealing with everything that's happened. After all, so far I've seen several people die, I've witnessed some kind of creature trapped in a car, I've killed a man in self-defense and I've buried my younger brother. I guess Dawn has probably gone through some pretty crazy stuff herself. It's weird to think of myself as a strong person, because I've always felt like I'm fairly sensitive and emotional, but right now it seems that I'm dealing with things fairly well. I just wish that Dawn would talk a little, to keep me company.

  "So what happened to you?" I ask eventually, hoping to engage her in conversation. "After all this stuff started, I mean. Were you in the city?"

  She doesn't reply. She just stands there, staring at me.

  "What about your family?" I continue, as I take an energy bar from my bag. I don't really have the resources to start sharing stuff, but I figure I can't exactly let her starve. Opening the packet, I break off half the bar and hold it out to her. "You need to eat," I say, but she doesn't respond. "It's food," I tell her. "Yeah, it's not a steak, but it's still food. Maybe some time, we can catch a cow and..." I pause. "I don't quite know what we'd do next. Milk it, I guess, and then try to cut some meat off its body."

  No reply.

  "Let me know if you change your mind," I mutter, before I start to eat the bar. Once I'm done, I put the empty wrapper back in my bag, just in case it turns out to be useful some time. "I was with my brother," I say. "We were alone in our apartment building, but then this guy kind of took control. His name was Bob. He was a total asshole, and eventually..." I pause as I realize that I don't really want to put this into words, not yet. "Bob's gone," I say eventually, "and so's my brother. Things didn't work out too well."

  Silence.

  "You know," I continue, "if you just -"

  Before I can finish, I hear a distant noise, and I turn to see a camper van driving along one of the other roads nearby. I stare for a moment, unable to really comprehend what I'm seeing, and although my first thought is that maybe it's time to hide, I quickly realize that there's no way one of those creatures could be driving a vehicle. This must be people. Actual, live people, and they have a vehicle.

  "Hey!" I shout, waving my arms as I run along the road. "Over here!"

  The van keeps driving.

  "Hey!" I scream, desperately hoping that they might see us. "Stop!"

  After a moment, the van seems to slow down, and finally it comes to a halt. There's a pause, before the door opens and a figure steps out. The vehicle's too far away for me to make out any details about the person apart from the fact that it appears to be a man, and he's definitely noticed us. I'm not sure what to do at first, but finally I figure this is an opportunity I can't pass up. I'd assumed I wouldn't meet anyone during the journey, but now there's a real life person with an actual vehicle. This could be the difference between life and death.

  "Come on!" I shout to Dawn, before I start running along the road. I quickly clamber over one of the barriers and rush through the grass, before climbing up onto another road. The camper van has stopped on a section of road that passes over a bridge, but sheer adrenalin pushes me to keep running until finally I get close to the van and see that the person standing next to the driver's door is a youngish guy with a big curly mop of black hair, a leather jacket, and a cigarette. He seems relaxed enough, and he has the casual
demeanor of someone who can probably look after himself just fine.

  "Hey," I say breathlessly as I finally get close enough. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Dawn is following, although instead of running she seems to be simply walking after me. I turn back to look at the guy next to the van, and finally I notice that there's a woman sitting in the passenger seat.

  "Hey," the guy says, before taking a drag on his cigarette. "You lost out here?"

  "I don't know," I say. "I mean, we're just walking."

  He pauses. "Where to?" he asks eventually.

  "Lake Ontario."

  He raises an eyebrow. "Why are you going to Lake fucking Ontario?"

  "I know some people," I explain, still a little short of breath. "They went there a few days ago, so I figure I'm going to try to catch up. They've got a plan."

  "Huh," he replies, seemingly a little unimpressed. "Lake Ontario. Never thought about that."

  "I think they want to be next to the water," I say.

  He sniffs, before looking down at my shoes. "You gonna walk five hundred odd miles in those?"

  "Why?" I ask.

  "You've got some spares, haven't you?"

  Sighing, I realize what he means. In my rush to get going, it never occurred to me that this single pair of sneakers might not be up to the job. If they wear out, I'll have to walk in my socks, and after that I'll be barefoot all the day. I thought I'd got everything covered, but I guess I missed a few things.

  "You got sun cream?" he asks.

  "No," I reply bitterly.

  We stand in silence for a moment.

  "I suppose you want a ride," the guy says eventually. "I mean, seeing as you're not remotely equipped for a long journey."

  "I..." Pausing, I see that the woman in the passenger seat doesn't look too friendly. She's staring at me as if she's annoyed, which I guess means that she didn't want to stop. "Which way are you going?" I ask.

  "West," the guy replies. "That's kind of all we've got right now. We've got some friends who own a farm about a hundred miles from here, so I was thinking we could head there for a bit, check up on them. At the very least, there might be some food. Other than that, we could kind of use a destination." He pauses. "Erikson," he says eventually. "That's my name. Carl Erikson, but everyone just calls me Erikson. Or they did, before..." His voice trails off.

  "Elizabeth," I tell him. "Elizabeth Mercer. I'm from New York."

  "Hello Elizabeth Mercer from New York," he replies, before looking over at Dawn, who's still quite a way behind. "Who's your friend?"

  "Her name's Dawn," I reply. "She's not really my friend. I just kind of found her, and she's following me."

  He takes another drag on his cigarette. "She looks weird. What's wrong with her?"

  "Nothing," I say. "I think she's just in shock."

  "No," he replies, squinting as he watches her getting closer and closer. "Something's wrong with her. The way she's walking, the look on her face. Something's not right."

  "No, really," I continue, "she's just kind of spaced out. She doesn't really talk much, but she's okay. She keeps herself to herself most of the time. I don't know what happened to her, but I'm pretty sure she's traumatized. I'm just waiting for her to snap out of it."

  "Huh." After a moment, he stubs out the cigarette before carefully placing the butt in his jacket pocket and then leaning back into the camper van. "Come on," he says to the woman, "we could use some extra people. If we keep going by ourselves, we're gonna go crazy."

  "They got any food?" the woman asks.

  "You got any food?" Erikson calls out to me.

  I nod.

  "She's got guns, too," he says to the woman. "They're just kids. I think we can trust them, and if we can't, we'll just ditch them somewhere." He turns to me. "No offense. You're safe with us, unless you try to pull any shit. You do that, we won't be friends anymore. Got it?"

  I nod.

  "I'm serious," he continues. "You need to pull your weight, too. We're not a charity."

  I stare at the woman, and it's clear that she's not keen on the idea. She looks to be kind of young, maybe in her early twenties, with raven black hair and eyes that seem to be staring straight into my soul. Since I've barely had a chance to speak, I can only assume that it's the idea of me that she doesn't like, rather than anything personal.

  "Fine," she says eventually. "They can come."

  "This is my girlfriend," Erikson says as he pushes the driver's side door shut and turns to me. "Her name's Shauna. There's not enough room in the front for you two, so you'll have to ride in the back." He walks around to the side of the van and slides the door open. "It's not exactly tidy, but I figure it'll do. Beggars can't be choosers, right? We were out camping when all the shit came down."

  I walk over and take a look inside. The place is kind of dark and cramped, but there are seats and a table, and piles of old newspapers on the floor, along with various bags that seem to be stuffed with food. The air smells a little stale, but it's a lot better than continuing on foot.

  "We robbed a convenience store or two," Erikson says. "I'm not proud of it, but we figured no-one else was gonna take the stuff. We never, ever would have done anything like that before all this shit came down. You two are the first people we've seen since we set out a couple of days ago. The way things are, I reckon it's finders keepers from now on. Law of the jungle, you know? Survival of the fucking fittest."

  "You have to eat your own damn food!" Shauna shouts from the passenger seat. "You're not allowed any of ours! Tell them they can't have our food!"

  "You heard the lady," Erikson says with a faint smile.

  I nod.

  "Can you drive?" he asks.

  "No," I reply.

  "Well," he continues, "I guess I'll teach you some time. Don't go thinking you've found a couple of chauffeurs, okay? Just..." He leans closer. "Don't mind Shauna," he whispers. "She's always been kind of the jealous, crazy type, but just cut her some slack and you'll get on just fine. Okay?"

  "Okay," I reply.

  "What are you whispering about?" Shauna shouts.

  "Nothing!" Erikson tells her, as Dawn finally reaches us.

  "This is Carl Erikson," I say, turning to her, "and his girlfriend Shauna. They've offered to let us go with them. They're heading west, and I figure we might as well all go together. Do you want to come, Dawn?"

  She stares at me.

  "You don't say much, do you?" Erikson says with a smile.

  Dawn turns and stares at him.

  "Don't mind Dawn," I continue, climbing into the back of the van and taking a moment to carefully stow my bag and the guns. "She won't be any trouble. I promise." Sure enough, just as I'd expected, Dawn climbs into the van and sits over on the chair by the other side of the table. I honestly don't know whether I should be glad that she's so little trouble, or annoyed that she just seems to think she can wander along and expect me to fix everything. I joked to myself earlier that she's like a dog, but actually she seems to have less intelligence than any dog I've ever met. She just seems to be totally placid and calm.

  "You alright, then?" Erikson asks, staring at Dawn.

  Slowly, she turns to stare at him.

  "Well," he says with a cautious smile, "I guess we're all gonna get to know each other a little better once we're underway, but for now I'll just say that I hope you ladies enjoy your time with us. We're not so bad, once you get to know us. Even Shauna."

  "Fuck you," Shauna mutters.

  "She's a peach," he continues. "We're gonna keep driving until sundown, and then we'll probably pull over and have some food and settle for the night. I don't quite know how things are gonna work out, but I guess we'll deal with any issues as we come across them." He pauses. "You seem like nice girls, but I want to make one thing clear. This is my van. Well, mine and Shauna's. We decide where we go. If you don't like it, just let us know and we'll drop you off by the side of the road, but there's not gonna be any debate. This is not a democracy. It's a cam
per van." With that, he slides the door shut.

  "Nice to meet you," I say, turning to Shauna. "I'm Elizabeth."

  "I heard," she replies, before shifting in her seat so that she's looking out the side window. It's pretty clear that not only does she not like me, but she wants to make sure that I know she doesn't like me. I guess I can understand her point of view in a way. After all, it's hard to know who to trust, and as Erikson climbs into the driver's seat, I realize that I have no idea whether these two people are telling the truth about their identities or their intentions. Glancing back over at the two rifles I brought from Manhattan, I figure that at least I have a way to defend us if we get into trouble. As the van starts up and we start moving along the road, I turn and look out the window. After a few minutes, Manhattan is barely visible in the distance and finally the city disappears completely beyond the horizon. I don't know when I'll be coming back, but I will be back one day. When all of this is sorted out, I'm going to come and put some flowers on Henry's grave.

  Thomas

  Missouri

  He keeps shouting for a few hours, calling me all the names under the sun and cursing me out, but I'm not budging. Sitting at the table in the little kitchen, I stare straight ahead and try to work out what I should do next. The truth is, deep down, I know that what Joe said makes sense: I should leave him behind, and if he was anyone else, I would dump him off the back of the truck and leave him here. But he's my brother, and he's probably the only family I've got left, so I figure I need to come up with another idea.

  The problem is, I'm not smart enough. I've never been very intelligent, although often I've been smarter than the rest of my family. Still, I'm not the kind of person who's always coming up with good ideas or working out ways to get out of bad situations. I'm no good at trying to survive, and on top of that, I'm pretty weak. My father always had a way of knowing what to do, and doing it even if he didn't like the idea; my mother, also, was able to just force herself to get on with stuff. As for me, I guess I'm more like Joe than I want to admit. I've always avoided making tough decisions, and this is no exception. I have no idea what's right, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do.