Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Fourth Series (Days 54 to 61) (18 page)

Elizabeth

“I'm fine,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady as I speak to him through the closed door. “Tell my father I just... Tell him I had a bad night, so I want to sleep a little longer.”

“He's not going to like that,” Charles replies. “He thinks everyone should be up with the sun. Are you sure you don't want to -”

“I'll be up in a few hours,” I continue, trying desperately to get him to leave as I feel the rifle poking into the back of my neck. “I swear. Just give me a few hours, that's all.” I wait, hoping against hope that he won't try to come into my room again. “It's girl trouble,” I add finally. “You know, time of the month...”

“Oh.” There's a faint shuffling sound from the other side of the door. “Well, okay, sure. I'll tell him.”

Holding my breath, I listen to the sound of footsteps heading away from the door, and finally I hear him entering the stairwell.

He's gone.

Turning, I find myself staring straight into the rifle.

“I did it,” I stammer, trying not to sound like I'm panicking. “See? He left.”

The man keeps the gun aimed squarely at my face. It's been several hours since he burst into my room, and he's barely said a thing since other than to tell Natalie and me to stay quiet and sit on the bed. We haven't even dared talk to each other; instead we've just been waiting, and I don't know about Natalie but I've been watching for some hint of a weakness. So far, however, the guy seems totally in control, and as he paces over to the door and back again, I feel as if he's just waiting for any excuse to execute us both.

“Shit,” he mutters finally as he stops at the window, looking out for a moment.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Did I tell you to talk?”

“No, but it's been hours and...” I glance at Natalie and see the fear in her eyes. Turning back to the guy, I can tell that he's scared too, albeit in a very different way. “Other people are going to come to the door,” I continue finally, figuring that keeping quiet isn't going to work in the long-term. “That's just a fact. I'm telling you now, in an hour or two there'll be another knock.”

“You can tell them to go away again.”

“And then they'll come back later,” I point out. “Eventually someone's going to realize there's a problem.”

I wait, but he seems to be watching something out the window.

“You're one of the ones who broke in, aren't you?” I continue.

He turns to me.

“The other day... They said six people broke through the barrier, and they weren't sure whether the last one had -”

“Shut up!” Natalie hisses.

“What?” I reply, turning to her. “It's true!”

“They killed them,” the guy says suddenly. “They shot the others in cold blood. I saw it happen. It was like an execution.”

“I'm sorry,” I tell him.

“Are you?” He stares at me for a moment. “Well that makes it all feel better.”

“If you -”

“One of them was my brother,” he continues, stepping over to me and aiming the gun at my face again. “He was only nine fucking years old and they made him kneel with the others and then they shot them all in the back of the fucking head!”

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. In my mind's eye, I see five figures being executed out there in one of the abandoned streets, and I can only imagine the horror of that moment.

“What's your name?” I ask eventually.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Natalie hisses.

“I just want to -”

“Shut up, both of you,” the guy says, turning the gun toward Natalie for a moment. “I swear to God, if you two start arguing...”

We fall silent, although I can see from the look in Natalie's eyes that she's angry at me.

“This fucking place,” the guy says, looking back out the window for a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” He pauses, as if he's still watching something that's happening outside, before turning to me. “Do you
really
want to know my name?” he asks finally.

“I...” Pausing, I realize that the question seems loaded, as if it's a challenge.

“Think carefully before you answer,” he continues. “Right now, you don't know my name and I don't know yours. If we start telling each other our names, everything changes. I mean, when you know what someone's called, that makes things different.”

“I don't want to know your name,” Natalie stammers. “Why don't you just take whatever it is that you want and then leave?”

“Take what I want?” he asks, with a faint smile. He takes a few paces toward her. “What do you
think
I want?”

“I have no idea,” she replies.

“Think hard.”

“I don't know.” Shaking her head, she seems absolutely terrified.

“I want my life back,” he continues, stepping closer to her. “Do you know what I used to be, before all of this happened?”

“What were you?” I ask.

“Take a good look at me,” he replies. “Go on, guess.”

“You were a... cop?”

He smiles.

“You're, what, thirty, thirty-five?” I ask.

“Good guess.”

“You look like you work out.”

“Go on.”

“Those clothes...” I pause for a moment, taking a look at the tattered and dirty shirt that looks like it was expensive once. “Those are good clothes,” I continue. “You went to work in an office.”

He stares at me. “You're good,” he says finally. “What kind of office?”

“Your office,” I reply. “You had your own office. You were a...” I pause again, trying to come up with a good guess. After all, I figure if I make a connection with him, I might be able to get him to let us go. “You were an investor? Something to do with stocks and shares?”

“I was a fucking...” He pauses, as if he's not sure whether to tell us. “Lawyer, actually. I was an entertainment lawyer.”

“Seriously?” Natalie replies.

“I was rich, I was successful, and life was pretty damn good.” He pauses again. “I liked my life a lot, and now look at me. I've spent the past two weeks scrambling around in the dirt out there, outside those fences you put up, digging for food in the dirt. I begged to be let inside, I told your people that I can be useful, but no... You won't even throw scraps out for the rest of us. You've cordoned off this city, taken it like it's your own private property, and the rest of us are just supposed to starve out there.”

“You could go somewhere else,” Natalie suggests.

“Fuck you,” he sneers.

“But you could,” she continues. “You could go and start your own city somewhere else.”

“Start my own city?” He stares at her for a moment, as if he can barely believe what he's hearing. “
This
is my city,” he adds finally. “I've lived in Boston my whole life, and suddenly there's a fence keeping me out!”

“Everything changed,” Natalie replies. “There's a-”

Before she can finish, he slams the handle of the gun into the side of her face, knocking her down onto the bed, before turning to me. As Natalie sobs, the guy seems poised to strike me, but I somehow find the strength to keep looking at him instead of trying to hide.

“You people are disgusting,” he continues finally, turning and heading to the window. “Really fucking disgusting.”

Leaning over toward Natalie, I see that she has her hands over her face, and blood is tricking onto her wrists.

“Let me see,” I tell her, trying to pull her hands away. “Natalie, just let me take a look.”

She slowly moves her hands away, to reveal a thick cut just above her right eyebrow.

“That looks deep,” I whisper. “Come on, sit up.”

With tears running down her face, she cautiously sits up, but she seems to be in shock. Taking a pillow from the top of the bed, I remove the case and use it to wipe some of the blood away, but the cut seems very deep and I'm starting to worry that she might be seriously hurt.

“Painful?” I ask.

“Not really,” she replies quietly.

“Don't whisper,” the guy snaps from the window. “I want to hear everything you say.”

“We should get something on this,” I tell Natalie, while making sure to speak loud enough for the guy to hear.

“I just want to get out of here,” she replies, her voice trembling as more tears run down her face.

“Me too.”

I continue to dab at her cut, which is bleeding more heavily now.

“Edward,” the guy says suddenly.

I turn to him.

“Edward,” he says again. “You wanted to know my name.” Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a small rectangular piece of card and tosses it onto the bed. “There. Have my fucking business card.”

Reaching out, I take the card and see his full name: Edward R. Pitt. For a moment, I feel as if the old, normal world is colliding with the madness all around us.

“I got two thousand of those things printed up,” he explains. “I borrowed money from my brother and ordered them online, and they arrived on the first day when all this stuff happened. I was still taking them out of the box when the lights went out, and my first thought was that I was pissed off because I wouldn't be able to tweet about them. Seriously,
that
was the kind of thing I worried about back then. Funny, huh? At the time, I thought they'd help me get new clients. Now they literally aren't worth anything. They don't even burn very well.”

“Let me see,” Natalie says, snatching the card from my hand. “It's -”

“Hey!” he shouts, rushing over and grabbing the card before pushing her back down onto the bed. “This is the last one I've got left!” He tries to rub her bloodied fingerprint off the card. “You've ruined it!”

“Sorry,” she stammers, with fresh blood running from the wound on her forehead.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters, stuffing the card back into his pocket. “What's wrong? Have you got no fucking respect for other people's property?”

“My name's Elizabeth,” I tell him, hoping to distract him from hurting her again. “Elizabeth Marter.”

“So?” He turns to me. “Why would I give a fuck about your name?”

“I just... You told us yours, so it just seemed fair. I'm Elizabeth, and this is Natalie.”

He stares at me for a moment.

“So what do you want?” I continue, figuring that I need to keep him talking. “Everyone wants something, don't they? Maybe we can help you.”

“Why would you help me?”

“So you'll let us go. That's how it works.”

He smiles. “Why the fuck would I let you go?”

“You can't stay here,” I tell him. “Charles'll come back, and he's not going to let me just sit around in my room forever. People are going to notice that Natalie's missing, too. The longer we sit here, the bigger the risk that everything tumbles out of control. Maybe if we talk to someone, they'll understand that it'd be better if you're allowed to stay in the city. I mean, it seems like you're fit and healthy, and smart, so you can contribute. They're just worried about people who won't pull their weight, that's all!”

He shakes his head.

“My father's one of the people in charge,” I continue. “Natalie's is too, we can -”

“Don't tell him that!” Natalie blurts out, grabbing my arm.

Edward stares at us for a moment, and then finally a faint smile starts to spread across his face.

“She was lying,” Natalie continues. “She just wanted to trick you.”

“Bullshit,” he replies. “You two really have important parents, huh?” Pausing for a few seconds, he seems lost in thought, as if he's coming up with a plan. “That makes things much more interesting.”

“We can help you,” I point out, even though I'm starting to realize that Natalie was right: I should never have let this guy realize that we can be useful to him. Still, I've made the mistake now, so I have to live with it and find another approach. “My father listens to me,” I continue. “He really does, and he's not some kind of monster, he's a reasonable man. He has the power to make decisions and if I explain everything to him properly, he'll understand.”

“Like hell he will,” Natalie mutters.

I cast a scowl at her.

“I don't need your charity,” Edward says firmly, “and I sure as hell don't want to get done on my knees and beg some asshole to let me stay in my own goddamn city. He should be the one begging me.” He pauses for a moment, still looking out the window. “I want everyone to come in,” he adds after a moment. “There are hundreds of people out there, on the other side of that wall, and they're starving. Women, children, men... Every single one of them deserves to be brought into the city.”

“He won't agree to that,” I reply.

“He doesn't have to. It's happening anyway.”

Looking over at Natalie, I can see the concern in her eyes.

“They don't know I'm here yet,” Edward continues. “They think I ran when they killed the others. I can use that. I can hit them from the inside.” He turns to me. “How many people are there?”