Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Third Series (Days 46 to 53) (6 page)

Elizabeth

"It's going to be okay," I tell Rachel as I finish wrapping the blanket around her little body. "Everything's going to be fine and we're going to -"

Suddenly I freeze as I realize that she's staring up at me with the most intense gaze I've ever seen from another human being. It's as if she's looking deep into my soul, and maybe even understanding what she finds. All I can do is meet her stare for a moment, as if she's holding me in place. I swear to God, it's almost as if I'm waiting for her to say something.

"Stop that," I say eventually.

She doesn't even flinch. She just continues to stare.

"Are all babies like this?" I ask, looking away for a moment. With fumbling hands, I pretend to be busy with something on the nearby dresser. My hope is that by causing a small distraction, I'll break Rachel's concentration and she'll return to being a perfectly normal baby. I mean, this whole thing is probably just a figment of my imagination. It's insane to think that Rachel, of all people, would have become infected, especially when she's so young. After pointlessly fiddling with some old pots, however, I glance back and see that she's still staring at me.

"What?" I ask. "What do you want?"

She doesn't respond at all. She just keeps staring.

"I've never really been around a baby before," I tell her, trying not to let my fear show, "so I only know about them from movies, and maybe that's why I'm making a lot of mistakes. But there's something about you, I swear to God, that just seems..." My voice trails off as I stare at her. Deep down, I have this dark, bubbling fear, but I don't want to give it a voice, not yet.

Then again, what if I'm right?

But I'm not.

I can't be.

But what if I am?

After looking over at the door to make sure that there's no sign of Toad, I walk toward Rachel and stare down at her once again. I can't even handle the idea that she might be infected, but at the same time, she sure as hell isn't behaving like a normal baby. She's less than a month old, so I figure she should be crying and gurgling and laughing, all the stuff babies do in movies. Sure, she's had a rough upbringing so far, and I know I've made a few mistakes, but it's still hard to believe that I could have caused so much damage in such a short period of time. This weirdness seems to be coming from somewhere inside her, and that's why I'm worried that she might have somehow been struck down by the infection that has already killed so many people.

"Is it you?" I ask eventually, keeping my voice low so that there's no chance of Toad overhearing.

She stares back at me.

"Is it? Are you in there somewhere? Are you so sick and disgusting that you'd take over a child like this? Is that the kind of world we're living in now?"

She blinks a couple of times, and I can't help wondering who is really watching me through those eyes. Is it just the mind of a child, trying to make sense of the world around her? Or is it the mind of that
thing
, of that creature that seems to be able to look through the eyes of every body it infects? It's hard to believe that such a young child could have been affected, but then again, I guess it's perfectly possible. I just really,
really
don't want to believe that it's true.

"So we're going to walk," I tell her, trying to find some semblance of normality in the situation. "It won't be easy, but it's the only option. We have to get the hell - I mean, we have to get out of here." I pause, realizing that I need to watch my language around children. "I don't even know where we're going," I add, "but Toad knows the land, which means we should be okay. I know it's kinda weird to put our lives in some other guy's hands, but he's pretty trustworthy. I've started to get to know him lately, or at least as much as anyone can get to know someone who's so closed off, and I'm comfortable with this decision. I just..."

I wait, desperately hoping that she'll stop staring at me.

"Don't stare at Toad," I tell her. "He's harsher than me. If he thinks something's wrong with you, he won't hesitate to..."

My voice trails off as I try not to imagine precisely what Toad would do to Rachel if he genuinely thought she was infected. I have no doubt that he'd decide it was too great a risk to bring her with us. I can't let that happen, though. As long as there's at least
some
hope, I want to keep this beautiful little girl with us, and to make sure she survives. After everything that has happened over the past month and a half, I need to believe that a new life can grow. It's probably foolish, but I see Rachel as a symbol of the future. If I can keep her alive, and keep her healthy, and if she can actually grow up and become a proper person... If all of that can happen, then maybe there's some hope for the world after all.

And if she dies...

"So just stop being weird," I say, forcing a smile as I gather Rachel up into my arms and carry her to the door. I know she's still staring at me, but I figure that's just something babies do. Anyway, if she was really infected, surely the creature would try to pretend to be a normal baby? Why would it make its presence so obvious? There are plenty of reasons why I'm probably just worrying over nothing.

I can hear Toad downstairs, getting ready for the journey. My right foot is hurting a little from where I cut it on the barbed wire yesterday, but it's just a scratch. I'll fix it later.

"It's going to be okay," I tell Rachel. "Everything's going to be fine."

Taking a deep breath, I start to carry her down to the kitchen. Every step feels heavy, as if I know that it's a risk to let Toad see Rachel right now. At the same time, I know I need to be brave. Toad wouldn't
actually
do anything to Rachel, even if he suspected she'd become infected. I mean, sure, he's harsh, but he's not a monster. There's no way he'd murder a month-old child just because she's acting a little strange.

It's going to be okay, I keep telling myself. Everything's going to be fine.

Thomas

"I don't think there's anyone here," I say as we walk toward the house. "I don't think there's anyone much anywhere these days."

It's been a couple of minutes since we pulled the truck up by the side of the road, and now we're making our way to the house that used to be occupied by George's daughter. All around us, there's nothing but abandoned buildings and abandoned cars, and the only hint of life comes from flies that are buzzing around an open dumpster. I was expecting there to be some sign of looting, maybe some damage, but it's almost as if everyone just vanished.

George has been very quiet since we arrived. I think he knows, deep down, that we're not going to find his family here, but I understand that he has to be certain.

"Do you think many people got out?" I ask.

"And where would they go?" he replies as we cross the lawn and reach the porch of a little white house that looks identical to all the other little while houses on this block. "If the shit goes down, where would they go other than the safety of their own home?"

"Maybe their home wasn't safe?"

"Melissa's a resourceful girl. She'd do anything to keep Katie safe, even..." He pauses. "She'd do anything, that's all I'm saying. She's a good mother."

"So maybe someone organized something," I point out. "Maybe the government took charge."

"I don't think anyone had time to organize anything," he says as he tries the front door, only to find that it's locked. Pausing for a moment, he knocks gently. "Melissa!" he shouts. "It's me! Are you in there?"

"There's -" I start to say.

He turns to me.

"Nothing," I add.

"Melissa!" he shouts again, banging more loudly on the door. "Katie! Are you in there?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at the empty street. I know we haven't see any signs of life since we hit the city, but I'm still worried about attracting attention. It's hard to believe that there isn't someone, or something, close enough to hear us.

"I'm gonna try round the back," George mutters, hurrying down off the porch and making his way around the side of the house.

Figuring that I don't want to be left alone out here, I follow, although I can't help glancing at the windows of the house next door, just in case anything might be watching us. It's been a long time since I saw one of the creatures, and I'm tempted to think that maybe they've all just died off, but there's no way I want to take a risk.

"Jesus!" George says, stopping suddenly.

It takes me a moment to realize what he's seen; there's a dead body in the yard next door, with most of the meat having been eaten away to reveal bone. Flies are buzzing around the carcass, and there's a hint of movement under what's left of the flesh, which I guess means that maggots are at work. I'm no expert, but it's pretty clear that this guy has been dead for quite some time, probably a few weeks.

"Wally Baxendale," George says after a moment. "I recognize the shirt. The most boring man who ever walked the planet, and..." He pauses, staring at the dead body for a moment. "It's a goddamn miracle, isn't it? One man's death has given life to all those flies and bugs. Nothing ain't ever really wasted, is it? I mean, sure, to old Wally, this has been a total disaster, but to the critters that are feeding off him, it's a miracle. When Wally died, he probably thought God had forsaken him. And now those bugs are probably chewing on what's left of him, and thinking how great it is that God gave them such a bountiful harvest."

I force myself to keep looking at the body. Even though it's about twenty yards away, it's still disgusting, and I can't help wondering if that's what's going to happen to all of us eventually; we'll just be left to rot somewhere. Then again, that'd be better than being infected.

"I guess old Wally isn't boring now," George adds, turning to me. "Maybe some other species is gonna benefit from all this shit." Glancing at the house, he seems much more nervous before, which I guess is understandable; until this moment, he's been able to hold out hope that his daughter and grand-daughter might be alive and well, but now there's a chance that we're going to find their bodies.

"I can go look if you want," I say after a moment.

"Huh?" He turns to me, having clearly been lost in thought.

"If you don't wanna look in the house, in case they're..." I pause, my throat suddenly feeling dry. "I just mean, I can look for you, and tell you if I find anything."

"No," he says with a sigh, turning and making his way toward the back door. "I should do this."

"There aren't
that
many bodies," I point out as I follow him. "If everyone had just died, there'd be loads more, wouldn't there? It's like, they all kinda went somewhere else."

"Or they're all in their houses," he replies, trying the back door but finding that it's locked. Without giving me any warning, he takes off one of his shoes and slams the heel against the glass, shattering a small pane. Reaching through, he manages to turn the key from the inside, and finally he pushes the door open. After putting his shoe back on, he steps into the gloomy house.

"Doesn't smell bad," I point out, although I immediately realize that maybe I'm not being very tactful.

"That's a good point," he replies, stopping in the middle of the kitchen. "There's no power, so no air-conditioning. If anything'd been rotting in here for the past month, we'd sure as hell know about it by now."

"That's something, right?" I continue.

"It's something. Doesn't mean they're okay, though."

I watch as he walks over to the kitchen table. He seems to be searching for something, anything that might give him a clue about his family's fate. I guess that if I was in their position, I'd have left some kind of a note, just in case someone happened to come along later; the lack of a note makes it pretty clear that George's daughter didn't have time to plan her departure properly, which in turn makes me think that something pretty awful must have happened to them. Still, I don't want to voice those fears yet.

"Her phone's here," George says suddenly, picking up a cellphone from the counter.

"There's no signal anymore," I point out. "Why would she take it?"

"In case the signal comes back?" He turns to me. "I've still got mine rattling about in my pocket. You never know if the damn things might be useful again. It's instinctive."

"Maybe she didn't want to carry the extra weight?"

"She took this thing everywhere," he continues, turning the phone over in his hands. "She must have been home when everything went to shit. If she'd been out, she'd have had the phone with her."

"That's a good sign, isn't it?" I ask.

He shrugs, and it's clear that he's trying to weigh up the possibilities.

"Isn't there somewhere else she might have gone?" I continue. "It's like... Me and my family, we were out at the farm, so we didn't know what was going on. But someone living in a big city, they'd be able to get information. Someone would've come and told them what to do, or people would've come up with a plan together, or -"

"Or she and Katie walked out the door," he says, interrupting me, "like goddamn zombies."

I want to argue with him, but I can't deny that it's a possibility.

"Then again," he adds, "the doors were locked. Why would they have bothered doing that if they were all zombified, huh? A zombie wouldn't stop to lock the goddamn doors, would it?"

"You shouldn't give up."

"What about you? Where'd you say your family's gone, again?"

"Dead," I reply, feeling my chest tighten a little. "Maybe my sister's alive, but she was out in California. There's no way -"

"So why aren't you headed that way?"

"How the hell would I find her?"

"The same way I'm gonna find Melissa and little Katie," he replies. "By getting on with it, and by hoping that God will have a little mercy."

"I don't believe in God," I tell him. "Not anymore. Not after this."

"I'll believe in anyone and anything if it means I get my family back," he replies, slipping his daughter's phone into his pocket. "They're out there somewhere. I don't know which way they went, but..." He pauses. "I'm an old man. I've got two choices. Either I sit down and wait to die, or I go looking for 'em. I guess the latter would be the best choice, huh? At least that way, there's a chance I might find 'em. I mean, Jesus, I can't give up, can I?" He turns to me. "I don't suppose you wanna either come with me or sell me that truck of yours, do you?"

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm not really sure what to say.

"Where exactly are you going, anyway?"

"I'm just looking for people," I tell him.

"Me too. Specific people, but I figure they'll be going wherever there's others. There has to be some place that everyone's headed, right? Even if only a few stragglers survived, they've obviously set off somewhere. There might well be a whole train of people walking to... Where would you go, if you didn't know what to do?"

I shrug.

"I'd get out of the city," he continues. "That's what I'd do first of all. And then... I guess people go in herds, don't they? Like, they get together and come up with a plan, and then they all go off in one direction. Maybe north, to the lakes, or east to the shore."

"They'd need food," I point out.

"More than they could carry, too," he replies. "So they'd wanna be able to pick up supplies along the way. And they'd need water. These are important considerations, and a mistake could be fatal. You wouldn't want to risk it, would you? You'd pick the direction that was damn near certain to help you stay alive. Melissa was a smart girl, and..."

I wait for him to finish.

"North," he says finally.

"Why?"

"You've got the lakes, and you've got Canada. It's not much, but it's hope, isn't it? I mean, maybe it's bullshit hope, but it's definitely hope, and if that's all you've got, you take it."

"How would people even know which way
is
north?" I ask.

"Well, that's where the old-fashioned methods come into it. Things that kids these days don't remember, like how to work out where you are based on the stars."

"Do you know how to do that?"

"Hell, no. I know how to read a map, though." He turns and heads through to the next room, and when I go through to join him, I find that he's going through the bookshelf.

"Do you really think there's a chance?" I ask after a moment.

Pulling a small book out from one of the shelves, he flicks through the pages until, finally, he finds whatever he's looking for. He holds the page up for me to see what appears to be a map of a city.

"Chicago," he says with a smile. "This is some old book of maps that probably no-one looked at in ten years or more. I'm pretty sure I gave it to her. It's a miracle she didn't throw it out, but here it is, and it's gonna help us find our way north. There's also road signs we can use. It's not much of a chance, but it's better than nothing. How much gas did you say you've got for the truck again?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

"It'll be enough," he replies, looking through the book. "We'll head off there today. If that's okay by you, anyway."

"Sure," I reply. "I mean..." Pausing for a moment, I realize that I've got no better ideas. I think that in some quiet way, I'd already accepted I was going to die. Now, suddenly, there's the faintest possibility that there might be other survivors out there. After all, George and I can't be the only ones.

"There's no point waiting any longer," he says, heading toward the door. "We can take it in turns to drive, so we won't have to have any downtime, and if we keep the pace up, we'll hopefully find people in a day or two, and then we'll -" As he reaches the front door and steps out onto the porch, he suddenly stops speaking, as if he's spotted something.

"What's wrong?" I ask, hurrying after him. As soon as I get outside, however, I realize what's caught his eye.

"People," he says, staring at the thin plume of dark smoke that has suddenly begun to rise up from a part of the city just a few miles away.

"Or just a random fire," I reply.

He shakes his head.

"There are people here," he continues, "and they're alive." He stares at the smoke for a moment, before turning to me. "We have to go find them."