The Grid Page 5

  “Fine,” he says, turning and pointing at a set of road signs ahead of us. “Morristown, 15 miles,” he reads. “Morristown's a town, not a city. We'll go there”.

  “What difference does that make?” I ask.

  “Loads,” Pierce says. “It's probably safer than New York, plus they have a great public library. If we can't use the internet, we'll just have to go and take a look at some books”.

  “I'm not risking my life just to go look at some books,” I say.

  “Think about it,” he says. “Maps, guidebooks, medical stuff, everything we might need to know. I went to Morristown loads as a kid, the public library is brilliant. Look at us, what we need is information”.

  I take a deep breath. I have to admit, he's kind of right. But still, the idea of going to a town seems risky, especially now that we've found this dead old man.

  “The first sign of trouble,” I say, “and we turn back”.

  Pierce nods.

  “If we find another dead old man,” I continue, “we turn back”.

  “Sure,” he says, even though he clearly doesn't really mean it. “And,” he says, smiling, “we can probably load up on stuff we need. Not just books, but guns and knives. Things we can defend ourselves with”.

  I shake my head. “No guns, please”.

  “Really?” he says. “The stuff you've seen in the past few days, and you're totally against the idea of us being able to defend ourselves?”

  I think about it for a moment. “Okay,” I say with a heavy heart. “We'll go to Morristown library. And maybe we'll grab some guns if we can”.

  Pierce looks out over the horizon. “It's worse than I thought,” he says. “Things are falling apart faster and harder than I anticipated”. He turns to me. “Electricity is like fire. It's how civilization stays together. And now look at us. Turning back into fucking apes”.

  Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff

  I'm dying tonight. I can feel it in my bones. It's a kind of tiredness that is very different to any I've felt before. So I know my time is come, and I have but a few hours to get everything in order. I have so much more to say: about the Great Disaster; about my family; about my 96 years on this Earth; about God and chaos; about Emma; about Pierce; about the anarchists. But I don't have time to get it all written down, not with these frail old hands. Sitting here in my dark room, with the sun almost down, I have very little light left, and I don't think I will survive until the sun comes up again. So I turn to the window and I say goodbye not only to the sun, but to light itself.

  Fortunately, there is a full moon tonight and a cloudless sky. Never before have I been so grateful for a last little vestige of light, silently coming through the window of my bedroom. There is enough – just enough – for me to be able to see. Sure, I'll probably be straining my eyes. But at my point in life, that's unimportant. The things in my head, though; the thoughts and memories I still have after so long; those are important. And tonight is my last chance – ever – to ensure that history does not forget my story.

  In brief: I was born in Morristown in the early 21st century, to Andrew and Stephanie Hoff. My brother Russell was a decade older than me, and I had a few other siblings about whom I care and remember little. As I have already stated, my brother Russell died after the Great Disaster hit when I was six years old, and his death left a great impression on me. I subsequently lived all my life in Morristown, partly because I felt I could not leave the place where my brother's ghost might still dwell, and partly because the idea of uprooting and moving seemed so momentous now that even a simple journey can take many days.

  When I was a child, I used to wonder what my last day on Earth would be like. I used to wonder if, given the chance, I would choose to be alone or with friends. Now I have my answer: I choose to be alone, but I also choose to leave this diary as an ever-lasting token of my existence. As a wise man once said (many times): so it goes.

  Chapter 7

  MORRISTOWN

  Unlike Pierce, I've never been to Morristown. I've heard of it, sure. But when my parents took me anywhere, it was usually out of state, to a Disney park or some kind of big event. I guess you could say I was spoiled, especially compared to someone like Pierce, but the truth is I didn't feel spoiled at the time. I thought that was just what families did. Talking to Pierce, though, it's clear that his family just left him in his room all the time. I don't know whether that means I was spoiled or he was ignored, but we're certainly from different backgrounds. And as we approach the edge of Morristown, it's clear that Pierce is getting excited by the prospect of finally returning to some form of civilization.

  “We used to drive in down this road,” he says, walking so fast that I struggle to keep up. “We used to go shopping in the mall in the centre of town, and then we'd go for ice cream. Every fucking Saturday, and I loved it. We only stopped going when my Dad left”.

  “Your parents split up?” I ask, realising how little I know about Pierce.

  “My Mom got fat,” he says. “Really fat. My Dad tried to act like he didn't care, but he did. Eventually he made up some bullshit excuse and ran off with his secretary. Only, funny thing is, she got fat too”. He stops as we get to an intersection, deserted roads leading away in four different directions. “I think my Dad makes women fat,” he says eventually. “I don't know how or why, but it can't be a coincidence”.

  “Everyone gets fat eventually,” I say.

  “Not any more,” Pierce says, turning to me. “Without power, it's gonna be real hard to get fat. And it's gonna be real interesting to see how this load of shit shakes out, the way it changes things”.

  I sigh. “Which way?” I ask. “Are we still headed to the library?”

  “Makes sense,” Pierce says. “After all, the internet's gone, so where else are we gonna find stuff out?” He smiles. “After all that's happened, we still end up running back to books. I fucking love books”.

  “Yeah,” I say absently, getting frustrated that we're not moving along. “Do you know the way?”

  “Sure,” he says. “Kind of. I just wanna breathe in the air. This place has special air. Can you smell it? There's something about Morristown. I love this place”.

  I nod uneasily. Great. I've been on the road with Pierce for a couple of days now, and it seems like he's cycling through a series of very different personalities. We started with cynical Pierce, then we moved on to over-confident Pierce, then we had broken Pierce who couldn't get over what happened to Holly, and now we've got nostalgic Pierce who wants to 'smell the air' and take in our surroundings properly. What's next? Can I rely on this guy at all?

  “Where is everyone?” I ask.

  Pierce shakes his head. “There should be eighteen thousand people living here,” he says. “And there... aren't”.

  “Maybe they left,” I say. “I mean, we hit the road, so maybe they did?”

  “Sure,” he replies, “maybe some of them. But this place is totally deserted. Shouldn't there be someone still around?”

  We stand there and listen. There are no sounds at all. The whole of Morristown is deathly, eerily quiet. “Hey,” he says, “there's someone in there”.

  He points at the window of a cafe. Inside, there's a man in a suit sitting at a table, and it looks like he's using a laptop and talking on a mobile phone. Pierce and I exchange an excited glance, then we rush over.

  “Hey,” says Pierce as we get inside the cafe, which is deserted apart from the three of us. “Hey, can we use your computer? Does it work?”

  “Hang on,” says the man, speaking into the phone. “Some kids have just come in”. He puts the phone down and smiles at us. “You two okay?”

  Pierce nervously eyes the man's laptop. “That thing work?” he asks.

  “Sure,” says the man. “Shouldn't it?”

  Pierce visibly relaxes, and I feel a hint of hope welling up inside my body.

  “Can we use it?” Pierce asks. “Just for a second?”

  The man shak
es his head. “I don't really have the time,” he says. “Sorry”.

  He picks up the phone again.

  “Wait,” says Pierce. “Come on, man. We need to find out what's happening”. He moves towards the laptop, but the man stands up and moves in his way.

  “Leave,” says the man. “Get out of here before I knock you through the window”.

  I step back. “Come on, Pierce”.

  “We need to use this guy's laptop,” Pierce says.

  I grab his arm. “If his laptop works, so will others. We'll find someone else”.

  Pierce stares at the man. “What are you, government ops? What's really going on here?”

  “Nothing's going on,” the man says. “Now please leave”.

  Pierce sighs, turns to leave, then turns back to the man and knees him right in the groin. The man gasps and falls to the floor, and Pierce runs around him and sits at the laptop. He hits a few buttons, but he looks confused.

  “The fuck,” Pierce says, picking up the phone and trying to get it to work. “None of this shit works. You're just fucking bullshitting us”.

  The man gets to his feet, visibly still in pain thanks to Pierce's knee. “Get the fuck away from me,” he gasps, grabbing the phone and holding it to his mouth. “This kid just attacked me,” he barks.

  Pierce grabs the phone back and presses a few buttons. “This doesn't work!” he shouts at the guy. “None of this works. You're fucking demented”.

  The man takes a swing at Pierce, but Pierce ducks and swings his elbow into the guy's face, knocking him back down onto the ground.

  “Let's go,” I say, edging towards the door.

  “This guy's a psycho,” Pierce says, looking down at the guy, who is still down on the floor. “He's hearing fucking voices. He's a schizo or something”.

  “Pierce -” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Pierce says, kicking the man straight in the face. There's a look of pure aggression on Pierce's face, almost like an animal. “What the fuck's wrong with you?” he screams, and he stamps down on the man's chest. I rush over and pull Pierce off, dragging him over to the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I shout at him.

  “That guy deserves to fucking die!” Pierce shouts back at me.

  “We have to get out of here,” I say.

  “Or what?” Pierce replies. “Or what, right? What, you think the cops are gonna come and stop me? You think they're gonna care if I beat this guy to death? There are no cops any more”. He takes a deep breath. “I can beat this guy all I want and no-one can stop me. Don't you get it? We all can”. He seems totally hyped up, totally wired. “Fuck it, Emma, do you realise?” He leans in close. “I could throw you onto the table, fuck you, then cut your throat and leave you dead, and no-one would know and no-one would do anything about it. Doesn't that scare you?”

  I back away from Pierce. “You scare me,” I say.

  He laughs. “I'm not gonna do it!” he says, trying to appear friendly. “I'm just trying to make you realise how things work now”. He looks over at the guy, who is getting up off the floor but is still clearly dazed. “I'm just saying, I could beat the shit out of that guy and there are no fucking consequences any more, that's all”.

  “There are always consequences,” I say.

  “Not from where I'm standing,” Pierce says. “Think about it. People used to be kept in check by fear. Now there's no fear to keep people in check, so the only thing that does it is basic human morality”. He smiles. He seems to be calming down now, although he's a little out of breath. “That actually sounds like an okay world to live in”.

  “We should go,” I say quietly, and I don't wait for an answer. I head out the door, and I hear Pierce following me.

  “What was up with that guy in there?” I ask, not sure what to do or say.

  “He's nuts,” Pierce says. “Thinks he hears voices from his phone, thinks he's online. He's not. He's a whack-job. Bet ya there's loads of them around these days”.

  I turn to Pierce. “I want to go and look for some stuff,” I say firmly. “Alone. Okay?”

  He stares at me. “You can't go off alone,” he says, dismayed. “Didn't you hear what I just said? It's totally not safe, anything could happen”.

  “I'll be okay,” I say, figuring I can't be any worse off that I'd be if I hung around with Pierce, who seems to be cracking up. Sure, I could stay and try to help him, but I don't know him very well so maybe this is just how he's always been? Maybe my parents were right when they said he was weird and I should keep away from him? “I'll meet you back here at six, okay?” I say.

  He shrugs. “How are you gonna tell the time?”

  I sigh. “Fine,” I say. “I'll meet you back here at sunset”.

  “Too dangerous,” he says, staring at me intently. “We need time to find somewhere to sleep tonight”. He looks around at the buildings nearby. “Fine,” he says eventually. “You go and do whatever you need to do, but be back here at sunset. By then I'll have found us somewhere to sleep”. He points at the door to a nearby building. “I'll try and get in there, okay?”

  I nod, though I'm not sure whether I really will come back to him. “Seeya in a bit,” I say, walking away.

  “Try to find some food!” he calls after me.

  I keep walking. I don't really know where I'm going, but I'm damn sure I'll be safer without Pierce. The way he beat that guy up was just insane, and he seems really unpredictable. As I turn a corner and head off down a new street, I've pretty much decided that I'm going to ditch Pierce, find somewhere to sleep for the night, and then head off by myself tomorrow morning. Though where I'll go is another question entirely.

  As I walk, I spot two women walking nearby, going the same way as me. When they see me, they stop and wave. Cautiously, I walk over to them.

  “Are you going to the meeting?” one of them asks. She's middle-aged with wavy black hair and a friendly smile. “We're heading there now”.

  “What meeting?” I ask as we walk along the street.

  “The meeting about the people from New York,” the woman says. “And how we're going to kill them”.

  Extract from the diary of Lydia Hoff

  Forgive me, my mind is going. I'm not sure I'm even making sense any more.

  The first time I met Emma was at a meeting in the centre of Morristown, where we had all gathered a short time after the Great Disaster struck. We were eager to hear what the local official would say. Surely, we assumed, they had somehow been in contact with the government, and they would have instructions for us. Like dumb sheep, we all stood there and wait to be told how to save ourselves.

  Well... We're still waiting!

  That day, the local sheriff told us all to stay calm and that help would be along soon. He was, of course, bullshitting us completely. Looking back, I wonder if he knew we were never going to be saved, or if he was genuinely convinced that the government would somehow find a way to fix things. Either way, I never saw him again. I don't know what happened to him, but we didn't have a sheriff after that. People kept to themselves more, and most of them left when they head that the anarchists were coming.

  Still, those of us who stayed that day were sure that the anarchists weren't real, that our town wasn't about to be overrun by killers.

  We were wrong, and soon blood flowed through the streets of Morristown.

  Chapter 8

  THE CROWD

  By the time we get to the steps of the library, where a small crowd has gathered for the meeting, I've become pretty chatty with the two women. The older one – the middle-aged one with black hair – is named Else, and the other one – who doesn't talk much – is named Sharon. They seem friendly enough, though I don't really learn much from talking to them. But it's clear when we reach the meeting that the mood is serious. I glance around, half expecting to find Pierce nearby, but to my relief there's no sign of him.

  “Okay,” says a man's voice from the front of the crowd. “Settle down”. Clim
bing up onto the steps, he turns out to be a fairly short, balding man with grey hair and a grey jacket. He looks like a businessman, though he's a little less neat than you might usually expect. “I'm going to start,” he says, “but if anyone wants to kick in, that's fine by me”. He takes a deep breath. “You know why we're here, and I think most of you know me. My name is Charles and I think it's very important that we decide what we're going to do about the people from New York.”.

  “Kill 'em,” says a voice from the other side of the crowd. I look over, trying to see who said that.

  “It's not as simple as that,” says the man. “We can't just go about killing people”.

  “Fucking can,” says the same voice. “Ain't nothing stopping us now. These folks threaten us, I say we teach 'em to die”.

  There's a murmur of agreement throughout the crowd.

  “Pathetic,” Else whispers into my ear.

  “What's it all about?” I whisper back.

  “You haven't heard?” she asks, seeming shocked. “Apparently there are people from New York. Sick people. And there's a danger that they might come here. There are already reports of people being seen massing on the horizon to the south, like they're planning to invade”.

  “Do you know what happened to make things like this?” I ask. “I heard it was a solar flare, but -”

  “It was,” Else says. “That's what I've heard, anyway”.

  “Mummy, can we go home?” asks a voice. I look down and see a young girl has come over and is tugging on Else's arm.

  “Not now, honey,” says Else. “Where's your dad ?”

  “Over there,” the little girl says, pointing vaguely into the crowd.

  Else looks over, trying to spot her husband. She notices that I'm watching her. “This is my daughter,” she says, presenting the girl to me. “Lydia, this is Emma. Emma, Lydia”.

  “Hi Lydia,” I say, reaching out and shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you”.

  Lydia frowns at me, then goes around behind her mother. After a moment, she peers back around at me, and immediately retracts as soon as she realises that I'm still watching her.