Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Third Series (Days 46 to 53) (11 page)

"I'm not going to leave you anywhere," he replies, but I can tell he's not sure whether he really means it. He's clearly weighing up the options and trying to decide if he can do something so horrific.

"I don't blame you," I continue. "This is all my fault anyway. If you want to go -"

"I'm not going to leave you!"

"You should!"

He shakes his head.

"But if you -"

Before I can finish, he suddenly leans forward and hugs me. It's a shocking moment, unlike anything I've experienced with him since the days immediately after his injury last month. I have no idea how to respond, so I just wait as he holds me tight, and that's when I realize that this is the first proper human contact I've had since Henry died. All I can do is close my eyes and hope that this moment lasts forever, because I'm terrified that this is his way of saying goodbye.

Thomas

People.

Actual people.

As we reach a small area of parkland, flanked on all four sides by large buildings, I'm shocked by the sight of forty or fifty people standing around, as if they're waiting for us. They all look disheveled and gaunt, which I guess is only to be expected after spending more than a month living here in the ruins of what used to be Chicago, but as they turn to look at us, I can't help feeling as if I'm very exposed. If I was going to make a run for it, that chance has definitely passed.

"Don't let them see that you're scared," George hisses. "That's what they want. People like this, they feed off the suffering of others."

"What does it matter?" I whisper. "If they're going to kill us anyway -"

"Shut up," the guard mutters, poking me in the back with the butt of his weapon. "Just keep moving. You'll have a chance to speak soon enough."

As the crowd parts, a small platform is revealed up ahead. It's not much more than some old wooden crates arranged in a pile, with a section of flat-board over the top, but as the guard leads George and me up onto the raised section, I suddenly feel as if we've been brought here to be displayed to the gathered survivors. Turning, I realize that they're all staring at us, and it's hard not to wonder what they're waiting for. At least there's no noose, but I'm sure they could think of plenty of other ways to finish us off.

I should be screaming with fear, but I'm too numb to do anything other than stare back at them.

"Sheep," George mutters.

"They think I'm a murderer," I say out loud, even though the words aren't really directed at anyone. "They think I murdered one of them."

"They've been told to think that," George replies. "This isn't justice. It's politics, and theater. Whoever's in charge here, they must be thanking God for delivering such a great opportunity right into their hands. Putting us up here and pretending to dispense justice is going to provide excellent cover for whatever cowardice and evil lurks at the heart of this bullshit. All the best tyrants are able to dress themselves up as warriors of virtue."

Before I can reply, I spot movement to one side, and I watch as another guard brings a girl up onto the platform. She looks to be about my age, maybe a little older, and she has bright blonde hair that has begun to betray dark roots. With a weathered, teary look in her eyes, she barely even glances at me before taking her place next to George. It's as if she's accepted her fate, whatever that might be, and can't even muster the energy to struggle. After a moment, however, I realize that she's shivering slightly.

"At least we're not the only ones," George whispers. "Oh God, did I really say that? What's wrong with me?"

"Ask her what she did," I reply.

"What's the point?" he sighs. "They'll let her off, I guarantee it. She's one of their own, so they'll show leniency, just so they can claim to be fair and just. It's a typical tactic to make sure that they don't develop a reputation for being barbaric. Then, when they -"

"Silence!" the guard shouts, shoving George so hard in the back that he takes a step forward before recovering his composure.

Taking a deep breath, I stare out at the crowd and watch as the dead-eyed survivors stare straight back at me. They're waiting for something, but I have no idea what; it's as if they've simply been told to come here and observe whatever fate is handed out to us, and I can't help wondering if they're even capable of independent thought. They're not talking or showing any sign of interest in proceedings. They're just standing and waiting, almost like zombies. I guess this is a kind of entertainment for them.

"So these are the prisoners," says a female voice suddenly, from behind.

Turning, I see a woman approaching the back of the platform. Unlike everyone else around here, she seems a lot more alert, and she smiles as she steps up to join us. I want to ask her who the hell she is, but I get the feeling that I'd only end up with the butt of a rifle in the back of the head. Besides, it's not as if there's much I can do to get out of this mess. George is undoubtedly right; this is less about justice and more about bolstering support for whoever happens to be in power around here. As she makes her way around to the front of the platform and stops in front of the blonde-haired girl, the woman pauses for a moment, and finally a smile crosses her lips.

"You stole food," she says eventually, staring at the girl. "Look at me."

The girl continues to stare straight ahead.

"Look at me, darling," the woman continues, putting a hand under the girl's chin and tilting her head up until they make eye contact. "That's better. You stole food, didn't you? You're a thief."

The girl doesn't respond.

"You considered your own hunger to be more important than the health of one of your fellow survivors," the woman adds. "You're young, though, so there's still time to change you, to make you see the world more clearly. For that reason, I'm going to allow you to stay with us. After all, it would be unnecessarily cruel to throw away such a young life."

Silence.

"Don't you have anything to say?" the woman continues.

The girl opens her mouth, but no words come out.

"What's that?" the woman asks. "I didn't quite hear..."

"Thank you," the girl replies, her voice sounding bare and devoid of almost all emotion. "If you -"

"I considered banishing you," the woman continues, interrupting her. "I could have ordered that you were sent away from this place, to roam the rat-infested streets or to strike out on your own beyond the city. In fact, before I saw your face, I was seriously considering such an option. Would you have liked that?"

"No," the girl says, finally sounding scared.

"You'd have died," the woman replies, clearly taking great pleasure in this demonstration of her power. "It wouldn't have been pleasant, either. You'd have starved, and most likely rats would have started chewing on your body before you were quite dead. I saw that happen to a man a few weeks ago. My God, you should have heard his screams as the rats' teeth scraped against his bones. I should have finished him off, but I needed to expose myself to that kind of suffering. Instead of helping him, or running, I stepped closer and forced myself to watch. He was twitching for hours, even as the rats chewed to the bone. Once you've witnessed something like that, it no longer holds quite so much power over you." She pauses. "If you steal again, I will have no hesitation. You'll be sent out to meet that exact same fate. Do you understand?"

"Of course, but -"

"Use this opportunity. Learn from it. Become a better person and try to teach others how to live decently. There'll be no stain on your character, and no-one will hold this incident over your head, so long as you repent and reform. You're free to go. For now."

"Thank you," the girl mutters, before hurrying down from the platform and joining the crowd. She quickly takes a position near the front, and it's shocking to realize how quickly she's gone from being part of the show to being part of the audience. I guess she's just grateful to have been released, but it's as if all the people here are in awe this ceremony. I still don't quite understand what the hell's happening or how this woman ended up in charge, but there's something very creepy about the way she seems to be in charge.

As the woman wanders along the platform and stops in front of George and me, I can't help but look down at my feet. There's something about this woman's strong gaze that makes me feel uncomfortable, as if she can see directly into my soul. I wait for her to say something, but so far she seems content to just get a closer look at us, and her eyes - so brown, they almost seem to be dark red - have been fixed on me with unblinking precision for what feels like an eternity. After a few minutes, I start to wonder if she's waiting for one of us to say something, but I don't dare break the silence. Finally, however, I force myself to look at her, and I find that she's staring straight at me. An older woman, in her forties at least, she has shoulder-length black hair, and she seems to find me amusing.

"Murderers," she says eventually.

I stare at her.

"Murderers," she says again. "No-one likes a murderer, do they? Well, no-one's
supposed
to like a murderer, but then sometimes social conventions are supposed to be broken. You kill one man, it's murder. You kill another, it's a strike for freedom. Everything's subjective, don't you think?" She leans closer. "I murdered a pigeon the other day and ate it for dinner."

Unable to answer, I wait for her to get to the point. If she's going to have us killed, I wish she'd just get on with it.

"It was a good meal," she adds. "Plump and juicy, although I suppose that was largely due to the way I cooked it. Still, I'm sure all the other pigeons would call me a murderer. The question is, do I care? And the answer would have to be no, because they're just pigeons. But we... We're human beings, just like you. That makes things different, doesn't it?"

Standing next to me, George lets out a snort of derision.

"You find something funny?" the woman asks.

"Oh, I'm sorry," George replies. "Is this
not
supposed to be a stand-up comedy act?"

"The world's ending," the woman continues. "The pack has been shuffled, so to speak." She turns to me. "You were the one driving, weren't you?"

I stare at her, but it's clear she won't believe me. She's probably already made her mind up.

"I can only assume that it was an accident," she continues. "No-one would come to us and immediately kill an innocent young woman. Such a move would be insane. Unless you're monsters, which I don't think is the case. There was some concern that you might be creatures, infected by whatever caused this disaster in the first place, but I can see now that you're no such thing. You're scared, frightened men who came crashing into our little world without a plan. It's so inept and foolish, it must have been the result of blind panic. Am I correct?"

"The boy thought she was infected," George replies. "He was trying to get us out of here. I was with him, I can vouch for his actions."

"Infected?" She pauses. "There's been no infection for weeks. The creatures are gone, and they won't be coming back."

"You can't be sure of that," George tells her.

"Have you seen one recently?"

"I didn't say I disagree with you," he continues. "I just said that you can't be sure."

"I watched them rot. I was the first to come out of hiding on these streets, and I walked among the monsters as they fell apart. It was a foolish thing to do, perhaps, but it inspired others and it made them look at me as if I'm brave and wise. Obviously that's a little off-target, but I can only accept their praise. The creatures were dying, and I knew it, and by that stage I was willing to take the risk. They were still talking, some of them, and goading me. Gradually, as other people saw that I was safe, they too came out to witness the final moments of those...
things
. Eventually, there was only one left, and I stood before him as his body fell apart. Do you want to know what his last words were?"

"Not particularly," George mutters.

"Do
you
?" she asks, keeping her gaze fixed on me. "Come on, you must at least be curious. This is important stuff here, and I can see from your expression that you're not a dumb kid. You've made it this far, so you must have your wits about you."

I stare at her, trying to work out what kind of game she's playing.

"He said he'd be back," she continues. "He said he'd mis-calculated, but that his virus would mutate and evolve, and that eventually he'd see us again. And in return, I told him that whoever and whatever he really was, he suffered from delusions. I told him that there was no way back for him, no possibility of survival. And then I watched as he tried to speak, and then I laughed as his body gave way completely, and I kicked his bones once he was gone." She pauses, as if she's trying to gauge my reaction. "I imagine the same scene was playing out all over the world," she adds after a moment. "The creatures weren't viable, but they
did
perform a useful service. They wiped away billions of worthless people who were only taking up space and consuming resources."

"My family died," I tell her, trying to hide my anger.

"Everyone's family died," she replies. "Don't see this as a disaster. See it as an opportunity. Humanity was struggling under the weight of its own success, there were too many of us. What we needed was this mass extinction event, to bring us to our knees. Now, those of us who are left can rebuild the species without having to worry about over-population. All it took was one virus."

"See?" George mutters. "I told you the person in charge would turn out to be insane. Only a very special type of lunatic is drawn to take control like this and start spouting so much bullshit."

"My name is Amanda Quinn," the woman replies, turning to him, "and I have something very important to show the pair of you. Something that I've been keeping to myself. Most of the people here aren't ready to see it, they're too dazed or too stupid, but I think I should give you a nice reward. After all, you murdered a girl who was only draining our resources. That makes you very..." She pauses, as if she's trying to find the right word. "Interesting. This tribunal isn't here to punish you for what you did. Oh no, it's here to reward you. Now, it's a great responsibility, but I would very much like an outsider's perspective, so I absolutely insist that you back to my home so I can show you what I've found. It's very important and very rare, and I think it could change everything. Are you ready to see it?"