Mass Extinction Event (Book 2): Days 9-16 (17 page)

Elizabeth

Pennsylvania

"What the hell was that racket?" Eriksen asks as he stumbles into the kitchen. "Was someone firing a fucking gun or something?"

"There was a creature," I reply, cutting a slice from the loaf that Bridger made last night. "We had to deal with it."

"What kind of creature?" he asks.

Sighing, I realize that the guy is completely clueless.

"Oh, right," he mutters. "Fuck, why do I always miss the fun stuff?"

"It wasn't exactly fun," I reply. "Patricia found it and killed it."

"My fucking head is ringing," he mutters, grabbing the rest of the loaf and taking a big bite. "Isn't there any fucking jam?" he asks as he chews, dropping chunks of bread onto the floor.

"Careful!" I say, taking the loaf away from him. "You're wasting half of it!"

"Who made you mother?" he asks with a smile, before smiling. "Fuck it, look at us, arguing over jam. It's pathetic, isn't it?"

Ignoring him, I put the loaf back on the counter. It's crazy, but two weeks ago I was exactly like him: I just assumed that all the food and water was gonna keep on coming, and I never worried about wasting stuff. Now, I'm the complete opposite, and I've come to realize that if we don't keep an eye on our supplies, we could end up starving to death.

"Sure," he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Gotta preserve food and all that." He wanders over to the pitcher of water and takes a swig, although I can't help but notice that crumbs of bread from his mouth end up floating in the water. Eriksen clearly isn't very good at sharing. "I need a favor," he says after a moment. "I drank a little too much of Toad's home-brew last night, so if anyone asks, can you say you had some too? Just so I don't look like a fucking alcoholic."

"You're getting bread in the water," I say, watching as he takes another swig.

"Huh?" He looks into the pitcher for a moment. "Shit. Sorry. Don't tell anyone."

"How's Shauna?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure he's too drunk to give a damn about his heavily pregnant girlfriend.

"She's cool," he replies. "Probably. I mean, all she has to do is stay in bed and wait. It's not like she's got the hardest fucking job in the world. A little waiting, a little pushing, and then pop! Out comes a whole new generation of the Eriksen family." He laughs. "Nah, I'm sure there's a bit more to it. But still, she's cool."

I take a bite of the thin slice of bread I cut off a moment ago. I feel as if, while everyone else is being careful with food and water, Eriksen takes what he wants and expects the rest of us to work around him. I hate feeling like some kind of sanctimonious know-it-all, but Eriksen's really starting to bug me. He's usually too drunk to help out around the place, and he doesn't seem to respect anyone. If I was Shauna, I'm not sure I'd want such a complete asshole to be the father of my child.

"So you're good on the whole beer thing, right?" he continues. "I don't want to get a bad reputation, and Toad can be a little highly-strung from time to time."

"I don't want to get a bad reputation either," I tell him. "Anyway, I think you might have missed that boat."

"But we've gotta work together," he adds. "I mean, these people, they're pretty tight. You came with us, so you're not really one of them, are you? We've gotta think as a team. You, me and Shauna. I told you we weren't gonna stay here forever, and I meant it. Onwards and upwards, so to speak."

I smile politely, even though I'm starting to reconsider my decision to leave with them.

"So we're thinking of moving out tomorrow," he says after a moment. "Me and Shauna, anyway. Or the day after. Not sure, really, but soon. Gotta keep thinking and moving, yeah? Ducking and diving and all that jazz. Like a shark. If a shark stops swimming, it dies. It's the same with us. I mean, this place is cool, but it's just fucking stasis, isn't it? Toad did a good job, but as preppers go, I don't think he's quite up there with the best."

"Where are you going to go?" I ask cautiously.

"West," he continues with a sniff. "Just west. Gotta be something out there, right? Sure beats sitting around here, waiting for a bunch of fucking zombies to come and pick us off." He pauses. "It's an American tradition, isn't it? When the shit hits the fan, you head west and keep going until you find a patch of dirt you can call your own. I've always fancied the cowboy lifestyle. Just a man out there in the wilderness with his wife and kids, living off the land. I think I'd be good at that kinda thing. I could even put up a little fence to keep the land neat."

"Sounds like a fantasy," I reply, convinced that this Eriksen guy wouldn't last five minutes in the wild. Seriously, the guy might fancy himself as a cowboy, but there's no way he'd make it. He'd probably end up starving to death, his bones picked clean by vultures and left to get bleached by the sun.

"The thing is..." He pauses, and it's clear that he's eying me up with suspicion. "The thing is," he continues after a moment, "I've gotta wonder how much I can trust you, and how much you wanna come with us. 'Cause we're not into dead weight, if you know what I mean. If you wanna come in our van, you need to be able to offer something. Like, everyone's got a unique selling point about themselves, right? One person's good at gathering food, another person's good at building, someone else is good at popping out babies." He pauses, and it's clear that he's got something in mind. "What about you, Miss Elizabeth? You must have a unique selling point. Something you're really,
really
good at."

"Like what?" I ask, starting to worry about his intentions.

"Maybe you should try to think of something," he continues. "You know, Shauna's due soon. She'll be popping that kid in a month or so, but until then, she's not much good for anything. It might be that you could take her place, in a way, and do the things she did before she got too fat. In fact..." He pauses again. "The van can take three people. It really can. Two would be ideal, though. Well, two and a baby. Gotta have a baby. That's the future, isn't it?" He grins nervously. "What I'm saying is that, when I drive outta this place in a few days' time, the person sitting next to me in the van... It doesn't
have
to be Shauna."

I stare at him for a moment, barely able to believe what he's saying. "She's carrying your child," I point out.

"You think that child's got much of a chance?"

"You have to try."

"And put it through misery before it inevitably dies? What kind of life could a kid have, anyway? Maybe it'd be fairer, and kinder, to not drag a new person into the world. I mean, what am I gonna say to the damn kid, even if it gets older? I can't tell it that the world's a decent place. It's just gonna be zombie-fodder. That's no life. I mean, it's just torture."

"Things are going to get better," I tell him. "By the time your child grows up -"

"What?" he asks, interrupting me. "You think the old world is gonna rise again, like some kind of phoenix? You think someone's gonna fix it? There's no-one who can fix this mess. It's gone way beyond fixing." He pauses. "We've gotta make do. All of us. We've gotta accept the situation and focus on ourselves. It's every man for himself right now. Things have fallen apart, and the best thing to do is to just grab a scrap and hope it's enough. The most any of us can hope for, and I really mean the absolute
most
, is that we can fucking struggle through until we reach the natural end of our lifespan. That's it. There's nothing better on the horizon. The future's just been taken away from us."

"One day, things will start going back to normal," I reply, even though I'm not sure I believe the words as they leave my mouth. "Everything has to get better eventually."

"No," he says calmly, "it doesn't. It really doesn't. What are you, a fucking Christian?"

"You can't give up hope," I reply, "and you can't abandon your child. You have to keep going and you have to assume that some day, something's going to start putting things right."

"Were you always so moral?" he asks. "Or did you become so fucking upright and responsible in the past few days? What were you like before disaster hit, huh? Just another fucking stupid New York brat?"

"I guess things have changed," I reply, not wanting to admit that he's right. It's hard to believe how much I've changed in just a few days. I barely even recognize myself.

"You seem like you're better cut out for that kind of life," he continues. "Shauna, she's not really very adaptable. I think she'd be miserable out there. Of course, the poor bitch loves me. I mean, she really loves me, and I love her too, but sometimes when you love someone, you have to set them free. So I was thinking of maybe making the decision for her and leaving her here. She'd have a better life anyway, and you and I could head out west and find somewhere to start afresh." He steps closer, and it's clear that he thinks he's offering a pretty good deal. "What do you say, Miss Elizabeth?" he continues, lowering his voice. "You look like you've got good hips for birthing, after all."

"You want to abandon your girlfriend and child?" I ask. "Seriously?"

"I don't
want
to," he says quietly. "I just think it'd be better for them, that's all. It makes sense. Something that was convenient and right in the old world suddenly doesn't make much sense anymore, does it?"

I open my mouth to reply to him, but the truth is, I'm disgusted.

"We have to adapt to the ever-changing world around us," he continues. "We have to recognize that all the stuff we used to do in the old days isn't necessarily relevant anymore."

"It's not like that," I say, even though I know that he might be right.

"Come on," he says, putting his hands on my waist.

"Get the fuck off me," I reply, pushing him away. Damn it, first Thor, now Eriksen. Are the men in this place completely sex-obsessed?

"Think about it," he continues with a leery grin. "Just take some time and think about it. Don't take too long, though. We haven't exactly got the luxury of time, not with a load of fucking zombies heading this way."

"I don't need to think about it," I say, trying to stay calm. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Forget it. Go fuck yourself. Even better, why don't you go and see if Shauna needs you?"

"Is that any way to talk to a guy who saved your life?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"When the hell did you save my life?" I ask.

"Back on the road," he continues. "When you were wandering along with that brain-dead little bitch." He pauses. "What, do you think you'd have managed to walk to wherever you were going? If we hadn't picked you up, you'd be dead by now. Look at you. You ain't got the means to take care of yourself. Let me tell you what would've happened. After a few days, you'd have run out of food and water, and your shoes'd be wearing thin. Pretty soon, you'd have been walking on bloody stumps, and you'd be wasting away. Right now, without me, you'd be rotting on some highway." He steps closer. "That's a fact, Miss Elizabeth, and I think you should consider the debt you owe to me. You'd be being picked apart by rats right now if we hadn't given you a ride."

Staring back at him, I realize that he might be right about one thing: I probably would be dead if he and Shauna hadn't picked me up. I was hopelessly naive when I set out from New York. It's crazy to think that in just a few days, I've learned so much about the world. I honestly don't think that I'm the same person. The old Elizabeth Marter, the girl who spent her days hanging out with friends and chatting to people online, is dead and buried. Just like Henry.

"So what do you say?" Eriksen continues. "Do you wanna ditch this place and head out west with me? We could be good for each other. Shauna's not the right person for me. I need someone to whip me into shape. I can be a real man, just like you want me to be, if you know how to handle me right. We can even have some fun along the way. After all, you're still an innocent little city girl. I can teach you a hell of a lot."

"You've already taught me one very important thing," I reply.

"What's that?"

"You've taught me to stay away from people like you."

"Fine," he says with a smile, "I guess I'll pick up girls here and there when I find 'em. I'm sure there'll be plenty who recognize the value of a decent man. You're nothing special. I doubt you'd be much good on the new frontier anyway. But when you're rotting in this place, or when one of those creatures is tearing your face off, I hope you remember that I gave you a chance. Sure, I might not be perfect, but we're not living in that kind of world anymore. The only thing that matters is survival, and that's what I was gonna give you." He turns and heads to the door, before glancing back at me. "You're gonna regret your decision," he adds. "You're gonna regret it real fucking bad."

Once he's gone, I take a deep breath. There's something about that guy that really creeps me out, and there's no way I could ever go with him. I guess that means I'll be sticking around the farm for a while. But for how long? Suddenly, I'm struck by the thought that even though Eriksen's a despicable asshole, he might be right when he says that there's no future for us at the farm. Am I just delaying the inevitable? Are we all, sooner or later, going to die?

Elizabeth

Pennsylvania

"It ended up in a trap?" Toad asks with a frown. "Are you sure?"

I've been sitting next to his bed for the past half hour, filling him in on the details of this morning's excitement. He heard us shouting, and he heard the gunshot, but he's still recovering from his injuries and he wasn't able to come out and help us. To be honest, I was a little shocked when I came to see him today; he seems weaker than before, and I'm worried that he's developing a fever.

"Patricia said she -"

"Patricia said?" he continues, interrupting me. "Did you see it for yourself?"

"No," I reply. "I mean, Bridger saw it, from a distance, and then Patricia went out to look, and she shot it and dumped it in one of the traps. Now she and Bridger think that we should build more traps. I think they want to surround the whole farm with a kind of defensive perimeter, because they think that sooner or later, there are just going to be more and more of the creatures coming to attack us."

"Make sense," he replies. "It's something I was already planning to do. I've got some ideas already."

"I think they want to get started this afternoon," I tell him.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's my farm and I'm the one who decides what gets done and where. I don't want other people running around fixing stuff."

"But until you're up and about -"

"Tell them it's none of their goddamn business," he continues. "Tell them that, Elizabeth! Tell them I'll be back on my feet tomorrow and
I'll
be the one who fixes the new traps. I'm not having random people digging holes on my property." He pauses for a moment. "I need to know where the traps are, because otherwise I might walk straight into one."

"They'll mark it on a map."

"I don't trust them," he replies. "I don't trust anyone. I'm sorry, but the only person I trust is myself. Tell those assholes that if they dig traps while I'm up here, they'll end up down there on the spikes themselves. Tell them I'll kick them out. They can go and fend for themselves if they don't like the way I run my farm."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" He fixes me with a determined stare, and it's clear that he's getting pretty angry right now. "I should've kicked Eriksen out by now," he mutters. "I should've reminded everyone of my authority. I just didn't want to put Shauna in a bad situation. She'd just end up being dragged along with him. The guy's an asshole. They're all assholes. Don't tell me Patricia doesn't want to take over. She's got her eye on the whole place."

"You're sounding kind of paranoid," I reply.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not paranoid. I'm alert. People said I was paranoid when I moved out here and starting prepping for disaster. They laughed at me. Hell, they probably thought I was losing my mind. Look at me now, though. I'm the one who's sitting pretty with a well-stocked farm. Everyone here, everyone else, owes their life to me. I saved their asses."

Sighing, I realize that he seems absolutely determined to put his foot down. "Fine," I say after a moment. "I'll tell them to stop, but I don't know if they'll listen to me. They're scared." I pause. "To be honest, I'm scared too. This sentry system you're using doesn't seem like it works too well, and sooner or later there are gonna be too many of those things to handle. You remember what the creature said the other day, don't you?"

"I'll handle it," he says firmly. "It's my farm, and my responsibility."

Realizing that he's clearly not going to budge, I decide to stop pushing. "Patricia did a good job," I say, figuring I should try to change the subject. "She's the one who found the creature today."

"I agree," he replies, "but I still don't quite understand what happened this morning. It sounds too easy."

"Patricia said she got lucky."

"I don't believe in luck," he replies. "I believe in careful planning." He pauses, and it's clear that he's not convinced. Something seems to be bugging him today. I guess he's not very good at being a patient. He seems like the kind of guy who wants to be up and about, taking charge of everything, and all this bed-rest seems to be driving him to distraction. I can't help wondering if, deep down, he knows that he's starting to develop a fever, and maybe he's trying to prove that he's fit.

"What about the supplies?" he asks. "There should be enough for a few more weeks -"

"Bridger and Thor say it's under control," I reply. "You're not the only person who can go out and find food, you know." Immediately realizing that I might have said the wrong thing, I try to backtrack. "I mean, we can take care of ourselves while you're getting better. You just have to focus on getting some rest. Are you sure you're not running a fever?"

He shakes his head.

"Let me check," I say, reaching across to him.

"No!" he says firmly, pushing my hand away. "You're not a doctor, Elizabeth. For God's sake, stop fussing over me."

Smiling politely, I realize I should probably leave him alone for a while, but something's making me stay. I guess I'm worried about him, and I want to make sure he's okay.

"I hate this," he says after a moment, trying to sit up in bed. "I've never been sick for a day in my life, and now look at me. I'm a goddamn cripple."

"You'll be back on your feet soon," I tell him, slipping another pillow behind his back. "You got shot, and you almost died. Patricia says you just need to rest for a few more days and then you'll be fine."

"Patricia says a lot of things, doesn't she?" he replies.

I stare at him for a moment. "She's not trying to take over," I say eventually, starting to realize that he's pissed off about the possibility of anyone else managing to keep this place ticking over while he's in bed. He doesn't want to hear about the others managing to get things done; he wants to believe that they can't manage without him. "She's just... Someone has to make decisions, and the others are getting edgy. You don't have to worry about her, though. She wants what's best for the whole farm. It's better like this. At least someone's taking charge while you're up here, and Patricia's better suited than any of the others."

"Sure," he mutters.

"And when you're back on your feet," I continue, "believe me, everyone's gonna be glad to have you back in charge."

"They'd better be," he replies. "It's my farm. If anyone doesn't like the way I run things, they're free to leave. They can take what they brought with them, but nothing more. This isn't a charity."

"No-one wants to leave," I say, hoping to reassure him. "They trust you."

"And what about you?" he asks. "Have you thought about my offer?"

"I want to stay," I tell him, immediately feeling better now that my decision is out in the open. "I talked to Eriksen this morning, and there's no way I can go with him. The guy's a complete asshole. The sooner he leaves, the better. He's..." I pause as I try to decide how much to tell him. "I've seen a new side to him," I continue eventually. "The guy clearly only cares about himself. I don't think he even gives a damn about his child."

"Shauna's no angel," he replies, "but Eriksen's bad news."

"Tell me about it," I mutter, thinking to the asshole's clumsy attempt to pick me up in the kitchen earlier.

"I've known him for a long time," Toad continues. "He always had a bit of an edge, but these past few days I've seen something new in him. I guess recent events have changed us all to some extent, but Eriksen..." He pauses. "Don't trust him, Elizabeth. Don't turn your back on him, not even for a second. He only cares about himself and I think he could turn violent in the right circumstances."

"I've already worked that out," I reply. "Don't worry. He says he's leaving in a day or two."

"He told you that?"

I nod.

"Let's hope he sticks to that plan," he mutters. "If he doesn't, I'm gonna have to ask him to leave. He takes too much food and he doesn't contribute a damn thing. The guy's wasted half the time and sleeping it off the rest. It might sound harsh, but we can't afford to have people around who don't contribute to the group."

"He was talking about going out west," I reply. "He wants me to go with him."

"What about Shauna?" he asks.

"I think he's considering leaving her here."

He sighs. "That's about typical for Carl Eriksen."

"He seemed nervous," I continue. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but something didn't seem quite right."

"Then
definitely
don't trust him. He's undoubtedly been going through the last of my beer, and I wouldn't put it past him to load up his van with as much of our food as he can take." He pauses for a moment, before shifting around and trying to get out of bed. "I have to make sure everything's secure," he says with a gasp. "I can't stay up here like this. The whole goddamn place is gonna fall apart."

"You're not well," I say, trying to push him back down onto the bed.

"I'll manage," he replies, getting to his feet and stumbling a couple of paces toward the door before, finally, he drops down to his knees.

"You can't go downstairs," I tell him, hoping against hope that he'll listen to reason.

"Help me," he says after a moment. "I need someone to support me."

"I'm not helping you leave this room," I reply.

"Help me downstairs," he says firmly. "That's an order!"

"An order?" I pause. "Where do you think this is, boot camp?"

He turns to me, and I can see that there's real anger in his eyes. "This is my farm," he says after a moment, "and while you're my guest, you'll obey my instructions. Now help me up or..." He pauses, and for a moment his eyes seem to lose focus, as if he's finding it harder and harder to remain conscious. He's struggling to stay awake, but his body seems to be dragging him down.

"Toad?" I say after a moment. "Are you okay?"

"I..." His voice trails off, and he seems a little confused.

"You have to listen to me," I say, kneeling next to him and placing a hand on his forehead. "You've got a fever. I'm going to ask Patricia if she's got something I can give you, because right now, you're burning up. Your wound must be infected."

"I'm fine," he whispers, but he seems to be losing consciousness. "I have to get back down there. I have to make sure they're not taking everything. Those fucking thieves are gonna clean the place out..."

"No-one's taking things from you," I reply firmly. "They're just working on the same stuff as always. They're getting ready for lunch and drawing up plans for the new traps."

"They'll leave me with nothing," he says, before his voice trails off. He seems to be becoming increasingly delusional and paranoid, and the sweat is starting to drip from his forehead as he leans forward and tries to crawl toward the door.

"You have to rest," I say, hurrying after him. "Toad, please, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"I can't..." he starts to say, before stopping as if suddenly his whole body has seized up. "I can't move," he whispers, his voice sounding strained and tired. "I need... Elizabeth, I need... You have to help me. You have to... make them... stop."

Moving around behind him, I reach under his arms and start dragging him back toward the bed. It's not easy, and I almost drop him a couple of times, but I finally manage to get him back up onto the mattress. As I do so, however, his bandage falls away and I'm shocked to see a layer of pus oozing from the wound on his shoulder. It's clear that he's got a serious infection, and whatever Patricia's been doing to help him, it's not working. I pull the stained bandage away and toss it on the floor before rearranging Toad on the bed. I have no idea what I should do next, but that wound looks much worse than the other day.

"Can you hear me?" I ask. "Toad?"

His lips move slightly, but his eyes are closed and he barely seems to be aware that I'm here.

"I'm going to get Patricia," I continue, trying not to panic. "She'll know what to do. I'll get her to come and take a look. You've got an infection, but you're going to be okay."