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

  Day Eleven

  Prologue

  He's dying now, and he knows it.

  The television is still on full volume, its picture lighting up the room with patterns and shadows that change every few seconds. Joseph would like to turn the damn thing off, but he lacks the energy. All he can do is remain on the sofa and wait for the end. He finds it somewhat ironic that his final moments should be plagued by the sound of a bunch of news reporters, whose asinine gabble continues to flood the room with comment on matters that - as far as Joseph is concerned - don't matter at all. For Joseph, the television is one final representative of a world that is about to be snuffed out forever. The news anchors talk incessantly about things that don't matter, but when the real nightmare arrives, they'll be among the first to die.

  He reaches out to take the glass of water from his nightstand. His tired, aching hand fumbles for a moment, and the glass is knocked off the edge. As he hears the smashing sound, Joseph realizes that he doesn't have the strength to go and fetch more water. His lips are dry and parched, but now he'll just have to die without enjoying even one last sip. Opening his mouth, he tries to wet his lips with his tongue, but this too is dry and withered. His eyelids feel tight, and when he opens his eyes, he can feel the skin pressing hard against his eyeballs. His body has surrendered, and the end is coming. As he lets out an involuntary gasp, he realizes that in these final moments he has lost control of his body.

  And that's when he starts to cough.

  Violently, painfully, his body convulses in a series of desperate attempts to bring up phlegm. The agony is indescribable, but he can no longer scream. As the coughing fit subsides, he waits for the pain to stop pulsing through his body. He never expected that his death would be like this. He thought he would die quickly, that he would pass easily and without pain into the next phase of the plan. Unfortunately, this is the one part of the plan that he got wrong. He knows now that he has to die in the same tortured way as the others; in fact, he believes that the others might even die more quickly, whereas he - as the originator, the one who reorganized the world, the one who is closest to assuming his position as the world's new god - has to suffer in this way.

  Slowly, he starts to smile, cracking the dry skin at either side of his lips; as soon as the smile is complete, the last breath leaves his body, and finally the voices from the television are the only living things in the room.

  Elizabeth

  Pennsylvania

  Waking from a restless dream, I open my eyes and see that the first rays of morning sun are staring to show through the window. I blink a couple of times, watching as dust drifts through the air, and for a fraction of a second the world seems to be at peace. It's as if everything is calm and quiet, and there's no reason to worry. I turn and look around the room, half-expecting to see my brother somewhere, but there's no sign of him and at first I can't work out where he could have gone.

  And then I remember.

  Sitting bolt upright, I look around the bare, makeshift room and realize that I was supposed to meet that Toad guy at sunrise. I get out of bed and quickly get dressed, still feeling a little groggy as I stumble to the door and step out into the corridor. The floorboards creak beneath my feet, and the whole house seems to be totally quiet as I hurry to the top of the stairs and then down to the ground floor. I check the dining room, and then the front room, and finally I burst into the kitchen, where I find Thor, the Swedish guy, rolling some dough. Glancing over at me, he smiles, but he quickly returns to work.

  "Where is he?" I ask, standing in the doorway.

  "Who?"

  "Toad. I'm supposed to meet him."

  He stares at me. "Why would you be meeting Toad?"

  "He said I could go into the forest with him today," I reply, starting to panic as I realize that I might be too late. "He told me to meet him at sunrise."

  "Sunrise was twenty minutes ago," Thor replies, continuing to knead the dough. "I noticed him hanging around for a few minutes longer than normal. He's normally gone by the time first light shows, but this morning he was taking his time. I thought it was pretty strange, to be honest. Not his usual kind of behavior. I guess he gave you time to show up, but Toad's not the kind of guy who gives second chances." He pauses. "Then again, he's not the kind of guy who invites people to go with him. What gives? Did you promise to give him a little something in return?"

  "Which way did he go?" I ask, hurrying to the window. Damn it, I was determine to wake up on time, but it's difficult when you haven't got an alarm clock. I was hoping that the sunlight itself would get me up, but I guess I was more tired than I realized.

  "No way of telling," Thor says. "I think he's got a set routine, but I've never paid much attention. Toad's the kind of guy who just gets on with things and doesn't make too much of a fuss. It's not as if he leaves an itinerary pinned to the wall. In fact, I don't think he's ever allowed anyone to go with him out into the sticks, at least not as long as I've been here." He pauses. "Face it, you're too late. Seeing as you're up, though, you might as well give me a hand."

  "I'm going to catch up to him," I say, heading over to the door.

  "Not so fast," he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me close. "What did you offer old Toad, huh?" He presses himself against me, and there's a leery grin on his face. "Whatever it was, maybe you'd like to do the same for me?"

  "He invited me," I say, trying to get free from Thor's grip. "That's all."

  "Pretty young woman like you," he replies, putting a hand on my waist. "Are you seriously saying Thor invited you out there for your conversation skills, or your ability to survive in the wild? We both know what he wanted. Seeing as he ditched you, why not do to me whatever you were going to do to him? It wouldn't hurt, would it? Just a little friendly interaction, if you know what I mean. Everyone else is asleep, so we could slip into the pantry for a few minutes."

  "Get off me!" I say, trying harder and harder to get away from him.

  "Or what?" he asks. "You gonna scream?"

  "If you touch me," I reply, trying to sound as if I'm not scared, "I'll hurt you. I'll scream, but also I'll hurt you, and I'll make sure that everyone knows what you're like."

  "Come on," he says, pressing himself more firmly against me, "what's the harm? It's not like I'm asking you to marry me. We're in a bad place. You never know when we might die, so why not be nice to each other? Why not share the fun? Or do you wanna be Toad's girl? Do you think you can get better favors from him? I'm the cook around here, remember. Toad catches things, but I make them edible. If you're gonna cozy up to anyone, it should be me."

  "Leave her alone," says a voice nearby.

  Turning, I see that Patricia Connors is watching from the doorway.

  "We were just messing around," Thor says, letting go and taking a step back. "It's good to keep the spirits up with a little banter, you know? I thought she looked sad, so I wanted to think of some way to put a smile back on her face."

  "I thought you were going with Toad today," Patricia says, turning to me. She clearly doesn't believe a word that Thor just said.

  "I was a few minutes late."

  "Toad won't like that," she replies with a smile. "Still, he can't have got too far. Go catch up."

  I look over at Thor.

  "Leave him to me," Patricia adds. "Thor and I need to have a little word. Elizabeth, you need to go and find Toad. Show him he can rely on you. If he decides you're not pulling your weight, he might decide there's no point letting you stay."

  Without replying, I run out of the room, and finally I get out into the yard at the front of the farmhouse. I glance over my shoulder, making sure that Thor hasn't tried to follow me, and then I turn and stare out at the horizon. With the sun so low in the sky, it's hard to make too much out; there are trees in the distance, running to the crest of a hill that borders one side of the dirt road, but there's no way of telling if Toad went that way. Running around the house, my heart racing, I look toward the wide open fields that stretch
as far as the horizon. There's still no sign of him, though, and it's starting to look as if I've messed up. All I had to do was get up in time, and instead I slept too long, wrapped up in a dream about my brother.

  "Damn it," I mutter, turning and glancing toward the trees again. At the last moment, just as I'm about to give up, I spot movement a few hundred meters away. Sure enough, there's a figure walking into the forest, heading away from the farm. Without hesitating, I start to hurry after him. I don't really know the way, and I'm aware that there's a danger of other creatures turning up in the forest, but right now I'm only focused on the need to catch up and fulfill my promise to help out. After all, I want to be useful, and since this whole farm belongs to Toad, I figure he's the one I need to impress. I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck in this place, but I don't want to be seen as someone who doesn't work hard.

  After a few minutes, I realize that although I'm slowly getting closer, he's moving pretty fast. Out of shape and out of breath, I pause for a moment, trying to work up the strength to keep going. Living in Manhattan all my life, I never really had to run anywhere. I mean, it's not that I'm hopelessly unfit, but being out here in the wilderness is a totally different lifestyle. I'm used to flat, firm sidewalks, but even the ground here is uneven and a little soft. It takes me a couple of minutes, but finally I get my breath back and I start running again, determined to catch up to Toad. Finally, when he's no more than a hundred meters away, I stop and decide to call after him, hoping that he'll wait once he realizes I'm here.

  "Hey!" I shout, waving my arms in the air. "Wait!"

  Up ahead, he stops and turns to look back at me. After a moment, however, he turns and keeps walking.

  "Hey!" I shout, starting to run after him again. I'm starting to realize that I'm totally under-prepared for this trip. For one thing, I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and I'm already feeling cold; for another, these shoes are meant for walking around the streets of Manhattan, not running across boggy fields, and my feet are already wet. If Toad thought that I'd be unsuited to this trip, I'm about to prove him right, but there's no way I'm going to surrender just yet.

  "Wait for me!" I yell, as I finally reach Toad. The ground is soft and uneven, and I almost fall over several times, but finally I catch up and come to a halt next to him. He doesn't look particularly pleased to see me; in fact, there's a look of mild displeasure on his face, as if he'd been hoping that I wouldn't show up. Suddenly I feel like some kind of child, and although I'd hoped to get to know this guy, it looks as if things have started pretty badly.

  "You were supposed to meet me at dawn," he says cautiously. "You were late."

  "I'm sorry," I reply, still a little out of breath. "I didn't wake up in time, but I'm here now."

  He stares at me. It's hard to believe that someone nicknamed Toad could be so handsome, but he has the kind of rugged good looks that seem to belong out here in the wilderness.

  "I won't wait for you again," he says. "If you can't keep up, you might as well just go back to the farm."

  "I can keep up," I say firmly.

  "We'll see," he replies, and it's clear that he doesn't think too much of me.

  I open my mouth to reply, but he quickly turns and carries on walking. For a moment, I consider heading back to the farm. After all, the last thing I want is to spend the day with someone who clearly doesn't have a very high opinion of me. Then again, I guess I could still try to prove myself to him. Taking a deep breath, I start walking after him. He doesn't look back, but I'm pretty sure he knows that I'm here. He seems like he's pretty arrogant so far, but there's no way I'm going to give up and let him think that he's right. Even if he doesn't say another word to me all day, I'm going to stick it out, and if he thinks I'm some kind of city girl who can't handle the real world, I'll prove him wrong.

  Thomas

  Missouri

  "Hey!" I shout, banging on the door. "Let me out!"

  Silence.

  "I'm hungry!" I shout, hoping that he might finally have pity. "I need the toilet! What am I supposed to do? Go down here?"

  I wait.

  No reply.

  "What the fuck's wrong with you?" I shout, taking a step back before slamming my shoulder into the door as hard as possible, which isn't easy since my ankles are chained together. "What am I supposed to do down here?"

  Reaching down, I try yet again to pull the ankle chains loose, but there's no hope. I've been trying to get loose all night, and all I've managed to do is wear away my skin.

  "Please!" I shout, close to tears. There's no way the old man can't hear me. This isn't a big house, so he can't be far away.

  Realizing that there's no way he's ever going to reply, I look up at the low basement ceiling and wait for a sound. Is the old bastard even up there? It's been hours since I heard even the faintest of noises coming from anywhere in the house. The last time I heard the old man's voice, he told me to take some stale bread and get some sleep, and that I'd be working again in the morning. I guess he'll come and get me once the sun has come up. For now, though, this whole place is as quiet as a cemetery. I've been trying to get his attention all night, but it's not working. He's ignoring me, and I'm powerless to change anything. I guess he's ignoring me for a reason, maybe so that he can prove to me that he's in control.

  "Get me out of here," I whisper, staring into the darkness. "Please God, get me out of here. I don't know why you've put me here, but let me go. I'll do anything, but let me go."

  Silence.

  I can't help thinking about my brother. It's only been a few days since he was injured, and I keep reliving the moment when I killed him. There's a part of me that wonders whether I should have tried to keep him alive, even though he was in pain. The truth, though, is that there was nothing I could have done. I'm not a doctor, and his injuries were too bad. He was probably praying that I'd finish him off. That's the kind of guy Joe was, really; he'd have hated being weak. At least he's in a better place now, and no-one else can hurt him. He used to drive me crazy sometimes, but it felt good to have him around, and I'm not sure how I'm going to manage now that he's gone.

  Exhausted, I stagger back from the door and wait for a moment. It's as if the entire house has fallen quiet, and I can't help wondering whether the old man has abandoned me. What if he's wandered off and left the house, or what if he's died in the night? Either way, I'm trapped down here in this basement. The place is almost completely bare, and there's nothing that I can use. It's almost as if the old man has completely stripped the basement of anything that could possibly be useful, and I can't shake the feeling that in some strange way he was actually prepared for my arrival. Either that, or he just happened to have a high-security basement beneath his house, in case anyone dropped by to visit. Has this mad old man been out here all along, grabbing anyone who comes too close?

  Despite the fact that the house looks like it's on the verge of falling down, there are definitely signs that someone took extra care to secure this particular space. The door is made of metal, and it definitely seems to be stronger and more secure than your average basement door. In fact, it's kind of suspicious to note how secure the basement appears to be, compared to the rest of this rundown house. The whole place seems to have been left totally untended, but the basement door is more like something you'd find at a bank. I have no idea what that mad old man could possibly want, and I feel as if I've wandered into the middle of someone else's private insanity.

  Hurrying over to the small window at the far end, I climb up on a chair and stare out at the forest. Slowly, the first light of dawn is starting to spread the faintest light across the scene, and I can make out the truck parked nearby. The damn thing's only about ten meters away, and if I could get through this glass, I'd be able to drive off before the mad old man could catch me. Unfortunately, the glass is reinforced, and although I've tried during the night to smash my way out, I've had no luck. Again, it's clear that no expense has been spared in order to ensure that this basemen
t is completely sealed.

  Sighing, I take a step back and look across the dark basement. There's not much light, but my eyes have adjusted to the gloom and I can just about make out the shape of the room. This whole house is like something that has been left abandoned, and it's hard to believe that someone could actually live here. I have no idea who the old man is - I don't even know his name - but he seems to live completely cut off from the rest of the world. Climbing down from the chair, I wander through the darkness, trying to understand how anyone could exist in such a rundown kind of way. Back at home, our house was always kept neat and tidy, and even though I didn't appreciate my mother's efforts at the time, I'm starting to realize that she was fighting a never-ending battle against decay. As soon as life stops battling, things start to die and fall apart.

  Finally, as I'm about to give up and try to get some sleep, I spot a pile of rags in the corner of the room. Wandering over, I see that there's a bunch of what appears to be old cloth sacks. Seeing as there's no bed down here, I figure I might as well use these to get some sleep. I reach down and pull them up, in order to make sure that they're fairly clean, but after a moment I realize that there's something beneath all the rags. There's still not much light coming through the window, so I crouch down and take a closer look, and that's when I realize what I've found. Under all the old sacks, there's the dry, almost mummified body of a dead girl.