The Life Beyond (15 page)

Chapter 14

Bobby hadn’t yet turned into a Weeper, but was caught somewhere in between. His fingernails were black and sharp, his skin covered with wiry fur but beneath it, I could see the usual softness of his face.

“Sherry?”

I tried to breathe but my lungs constricted.

“Sherry, what’s the matter?” I felt Joshua at my shoulder.

“It’s Bobby,” I whispered. “He’s alive.”

I reached for the lock but Joshua grabbed my hand. “No! We don’t know how far gone he is. We should give him the cure first and wait to see if it helps.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have time. It could take hours before the cure takes effect. The scientists could come back and find us.”

Bobby was staring at the ground, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

“He’s sedated. What could he possibly do? Please, Joshua. I can’t leave him here,” I begged.

Joshua bent over the lock. “We need something to break it open.” He looked over his shoulder at Quentin who stood a few feet behind us. “Give me the clippers.”

But Quentin shook his head. “They won’t do any good. It’s electronic. Maybe I can open it.” He perched in front of the lone computer at the end of the room and began typing.

I turned back to my brother. “Bobby?”

No reaction.

“We’ll get you out.”

His arms and shoulders were bandaged – probably where bullets had hit him. But still, no matter how distressing it was to see him like this, it was still Bobby. My little brother.

I heard the lock click open, and Quentin let out a relieved sigh. Without hesitation, I gripped the bars and pulled. Joshua didn’t try to stop me, but I could sense his body tense as if preparing for a fight.

“Bobby?” I whispered.

He didn’t react. His eyes were half-closed and smeared with the pus-like secretion. I seized his wrist and couldn’t help but shudder at the feel of his bristle-like fur. Quickly, I grabbed the vial and syringe from the backpack. Filling the syringe with one hand, I rested the other against Bobby’s cheek to calm him before injecting him. He twitched but didn’t react otherwise. I kept my palm on his face. He felt so hot and sweaty. I only hoped this would save him.

Joshua helped me drag Bobby out of the cage and toward the door. I looked over to the Weepers in the cages and the men on the tables. A feeling of complete hopelessness swept over me at the realization that we would be unable to save them. I didn’t want to leave them.

“Sherry,” Joshua warned.

With a last look at the creatures in the cages, I left.

Joshua and Quentin dragged Bobby up the stairs and I followed. Bobby hung in their grip like a sack of flour. It took forever to get him to the next level. Steps sounded behind the door on floor ‘2’. We pressed against the wall, holding our breaths. People were running through the corridor; only a few inches of concrete between them and us. I could hear agitated voices but not what they were saying. If they found us, it would be the end.

After a few minutes the noise settled down and we dared to move on. It was silent on the upper floors.

Back in the room where we’d arrived, I was drenched in sweat and my back hurt. How were we supposed to get Bobby up into the airshaft? He hung in our grip, the breath rattling out of his body. I felt no relief or happiness now. Bobby was alive, it was true, but I wasn’t sure how much longer we had. If the cure didn’t work on him, he’d soon be taken from me again.

“One of us has to get in there first to pull your brother up,” Joshua said. We pushed a desk under the shaft opening. Bobby lay motionless on the floor, his eyes half closed. If his chest hadn’t risen and fallen, I’d have thought he was dead.

Quentin jumped on the desk and heaved himself into the airshaft while Joshua and I wrenched Bobby up. Quentin extended his arms and the upper half of his body dangled out of the opening in the ceiling. With some pushing and cursing we managed to raise Bobby high enough so Quentin could grip his arms. He started pulling while Joshua and I pushed. Eventually Bobby disappeared into the airshaft.

Quentin’s head poked out a moment later. “Come on. Hurry.” I handed him the backpack with the cameras before Joshua and I climbed into the airshaft.

We crawled through the long duct, half dragging and half pushing Bobby forward. He was unresisting but heavy.

Quentin froze at the end of the airshaft. He pressed his finger against his lips, his eyes alert. I listened to the sounds of shouted orders as soldiers walked past our hiding place. Bobby squirmed against me and let out a quiet whine. “Shhh.” I stroked his hair but it didn’t calm him. If they heard him, we’d be done.

I closed my eyes as I leaned against the cold metal of the airduct. Bobby stopped moving but I could feel his pulse pounding under my fingertips.

“They’re looking for us,” Quentin said quietly.

37 minutes since we found Bobby. 29 minutes in the airshaft. How much longer till we’d be found?

“Sherry, draw your gun,” Joshua whispered. I did as he asked. There was a pause as we listened to the sounds outside.

44 minutes in the airshaft. 2640 long seconds.

Quentin hissed. “Now!” He disappeared from my view. Joshua pushed Bobby out and then he, too, jumped out. I crawled to the edge of the duct and got out feet-first. The new day was already dawning.

“Hurry!” Quentin tugged at my arm. He and Joshua carried Bobby between them as we ran toward the spot in the fence we’d used earlier.

“Sherry, on your left!” Joshua hissed. I turned and saw two guards coming our way. They hadn’t spotted us yet but it wouldn’t be long. I raised the tranquilizer gun and shot two times. I heard a pop, and seconds later both guards fell to the ground, knocked out before they could make a sound. I was glad that we’d managed to keep one of the tranquilizer guns that Joshua’s dad had given us, stashed safely away with the cure. If they’d been washed away like our other stuff, we’d have had to use something much worse.

We knelt in front of the opening in the fence and crawled through. “Good job,” Joshua whispered as we hurried away, dragging Bobby with us.

I searched Bobby’s face for a change but nothing had happened. Secretion kept dripping from his eyes.

I wasn’t sure how long it took us to return to the car, but carrying Bobby half the way and dragging him the rest slowed us down. Ignoring Joshua’s protests, I got into the backseat with Bobby while he sat shotgun. I wanted to stay with my brother.

We drove without light to stay undetected. Bobby only stirred once before closing his eyes – which was better than seeing the milky blue. But there were no signs of progress.

It took us a couple of hours to reach the fence. The entire time I searched the sky for helicopters. We parked closer to it than was probably safe but we weren’t in any condition to walk a long distance. Our feet dragged as we trudged toward the tunnel opening. Exhausted we sank to the ground. Bushes hid us from curious eyes, though nobody was around. We’d hear if a helicopter was approaching.

For a moment all we did was sit and breathe and rest. I felt like I could sleep for weeks.

I stared into the endless darkness of the tunnel. An earthy, musty smell came from it. There was no sign of Tyler or the others anywhere. I hoped they’d made it through.

“That’s the way to the other side?” Quentin asked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Quentin looked doubtful.

It seemed like forever since we’d crawled through the tunnel. How long would it take to get to the other side with Bobby? We would have to drag him the entire way. But we had no choice. It was the only way to the other side – back to the Void.

Bobby let out a moan. I bent over him and touched his cheeks. The feel of the rough patches of fur and damp secretion almost made me want to pull back but I somehow couldn’t do it. He was still my brother.

“Bobby?”

Nothing.

“Bobby, wake up.”

“Maybe it’s better if he stays unconscious,” Quentin said. The implications of his words send a shudder down my spine.

Joshua squeezed my arm as if he could read my thoughts. “Let’s get through the tunnel. The sooner we get away the better.”

1 hour and 55 minutes. That’s how long it took. But it felt like forever. Quentin had to move backwards to pull Bobby along and Joshua pushed from behind. Although in a way, I was glad that we could only move slowly. I don’t think my body could have handled more.

We sprawled out the other side, drinking in the fresh air. It was dangerous to stay but I doubted I could walk or crawl much further. I tried to fight the tiredness weighing down every inch of my body. “We have to get away,” I said finally.

I stumbled to my feet, and Joshua and Quentin hauled Bobby up. I looked around. There was a cluster of bushes a good distance ahead of us. The trunk of a car peeked out behind it.

“The others got through,” I said. “Tyler left the car where we agreed.” Relief loosened the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Joshua and Quentin followed my gaze, and I could see them relax, too.

“Let’s hurry,” Quentin said.

“Wait!” Joshua said. “We have to film the fence!”

With a nod of understanding, I headed toward the bushes, Quentin and Joshua behind me, dragging Bobby. Once we were by the car, Joshua took a few minutes’ footage of the fence using the zoom on the lens while Quentin helped me hoist Bobby into the backseat. When Joshua had finished, he sat in the front while Quentin slipped into the driver’s seat. The key stuck in the ignition, and when he turned it, the car purred.

I sat beside Bobby in the back. He was slumped forward and I put his head in my lap.

“Do you think they’ve made it back yet?” I asked.

Quentin shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

The twigs scratched over the windshield as Quentin pulled the car backwards. The heat soon dragged me into a slumber.

Chapter 15

Nobody had expected us to return to Santa Barbara alive. At once we were surrounded by questions, hugs and words of welcome. But seeing Mom’s face when she saw Bobby and me was all that really mattered. I’d thought she’d be angry with me for leaving for the fence but she just clutched my hand and told me how glad she was that we’d returned.

Joshua and Karen carried Bobby into a room on the first floor of the mission where the new infirmary was situated, and Mom and I followed. He already looked much better. His eyes had stopped oozing secretion and some of the fur had fallen out. But he hadn’t woken up yet. The tests they’d done to him in the lab had weakened his body. He moaned and his eyes fluttered.

“What happened to him?” Karen asked as they lowered him onto a bed.

“They infected him with the rabies in a lab beyond the fence,” I explained. Shock followed by terror flashed across her face. “But we gave him the cure,” I added quickly. “We know it works. I’m feeling absolutely fine since I took it. He should be fine too. Right?”

“I don’t know. His temperature is okay and his heartbeat and pulse are almost normal,” she said uncertainly.

Tyler entered the room. I’d seen him only briefly outside when we’d arrived.

“Where are the vials with the cure?” I asked him now.

Karen attached a drip to Bobby’s arm, before looking up at me, her lips tightened.

“We stored most of it in the fridge. Geoffrey said it’s safer to keep it cooled,” Tyler said. “He wants to try to reproduce it.”

“What about my Dad?”

Tyler shook his head. “We only got back about six hours ago. Karen said we should rest before setting off.”

Panic flooded me. It had been seven days since Dad showed the first symptoms. “Then we need to look for my dad right now.”

Karen let go of Bobby’s drip. “I know you’re going to do what you want anyway. But please listen to me.” She walked up to me and Joshua. “You are both exhausted. It’s a miracle that you’re alive. You both need rest. You won’t help anyone in your current state. Wait until tomorrow.” She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, either.

But Dad was at our home in LA waiting. And we had the cure. We couldn’t stay. Every hour counted.

Joshua’s brows dipped. “Maybe she’s right, Sherry. We’ve come this far. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Mom gripped my hand, her expression pleading. “Sherry, you risked your life twice. Pleae don’t leave again. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Her hand felt cold and small. “What about Dad? We can save him. I know we can.” I wasn’t sure how I managed to sound so sure when inside doubts were eating away at me. I didn’t know if I could save Dad but I’d try. I owed it to him.

“I want your father back more than anything! But I almost lost two of my children. I can’t face the prospect of losing you again,” Mom said weakly, squeezing my hand. She looked at Joshua expectantly. “Can’t someone else go?”

I shook my head. “I
want
to go, Mom. I can’t just sit here while I know Dad’s still out there.” I softened my voice. “After I’ve eaten, I’ll set out to look for him. Joshua will come with me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Joshua said. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“I’m starving. I’ll come with you,” said Karen. “Bobby needs some rest. There’s nothing I can do for him at the moment.”

Mom took Bobby’s hand. “I’ll stay in case he wakes. Mia will be so happy to see you. I’m sure Marie will have woken her from her nap by now.”

I followed Joshua, Karen and Tyler into the kitchen. The room was crowded with people. I spotted Alexis, Quentin, Marty, Larry, Marie, Emma and – Mia. With a squeal she threw herself into my arms. I patted her wild hair and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

The scent of basil and tomatoes lay in the air and steam rose from a big pot on the old stove.

“Good to see you,” Alexis said. We settled around the long wooden table, chairs scraping over the rough floor. Marie set the pot down in front of us. My stomach grumbled. It had been too long since we’d eaten. Quentin and Joshua eyed the food like hungry wolves.

“I talked to Geoffrey,” Karen explained as she dished up the tomato-soup. “He said the cure will last for maybe ten people if we administer it sparsely. But he’s hopeful that he’ll manage to produce more of it. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Something on Karen’s face changed and her tone softened. “Tyler told me about your dad.”

Joshua’s face hardened as he took one of the still warm loaves from the basket on the table, tore it apart and started munching on it. Why did Karen have to bring it up in front of so many people? Now everyone was watching Joshua curiously.

“If you want to talk about it —”.

“I’m fine.” Joshua glared at his bowl.

Larry straightened his glasses. “So he’s a scientist for the government?”

I glanced at Joshua. He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on his food.

“He’s responsible for the virus and creating a Weeper army,” I explained.

“An army?” Karen asked.

“Yes,” I said. “The military breeds Weepers —”

“Breeds?” Larry’s eyebrows shot up. I knew it sounded ridiculous. If I hadn’t seen it with my eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it either.

“Yes, the military has found a way to control them. Remember the Weepers with collars that attacked the other Safe-haven?” I asked. “They can give them orders through the collars around their necks. It’s sick.”

“That’s horrible,” Larry said. “Are they using them in wars?” By now everybody knew about the conflicts going on in the world beyond the fence.

Quentin cut in. “I don’t think so. They’re still in the testing phase but I’m sure they won’t wait much longer.”

“There has to be a way to stop them,” Larry said.

“We have an idea. We’ve filmed inside the lab where we found Bobby and have a little bit of footage of the fence. We’re thinking we could try and broadcast it to people beyond the fence – show them what’s really going on,” I said.

Quentin nodded. “I’ll cut the film and put my commenting in the background in the next few days. And I think every survivor should record a message to the other side. People won’t dismiss our suffering that easily if they see our faces and hear our stories.”

“That’s a great idea. Will you wait until we’re back?” Joshua and I couldn’t stay to record a message today. We needed to set out soon.

“Sure. You and Joshua are an important part of this. You need to be on the tape.”

Mia leaned her head against my shoulder, her small hand in mine.

“You’ll stay, right? You won’t leave again?” she whispered.

I stroked her hair, guilt burning my insides. “Eat your soup. It’ll get cold,” I said, ignoring her question.

She picked up her spoon and didn’t press the matter.

Joshua gave me a sad smile. As soon as Mia went back upstairs to play, we’d leave.

Mom stood on the steps of the mission, her arms wrapped around herself, watching our car disappear. The wind tousled her long hair and made her dress billow like a flag. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

Larry had picked up a new car while we were beyond the fence. The seats were more comfortable than the Lincoln’s and it didn’t smell as stuffy but I could tell Joshua missed his old ride. Alexis and Tyler had offered to join us but I was worried about the state we’d find my dad in and wanted to handle things alone. More people would only increase the risk of someone getting hurt. And I doubted either of them would hesitate to kill my dad to protect themselves. Besides, I didn’t think it was fair on Tyler. I knew that deep down he must still be haunted by Rachel’s death. He deserved some time and space to grieve properly.

It felt weird to be heading back to L.A., to my old home, and as we pulled into the street I’d lived on the majority of my life, my chest tightened. Memories resurfaced at the sight of the Smiths’s house. My best friend Izzie had been my neighbour since we were toddlers and I hadn’t seen her since we’d sought refuge in our family’s bunkers. 1164 days since we’d said our last good bye. Happy times from my other life seemed so far away now.

Joshua stopped the car in the middle of the road in front of our home. Soot covered the windows and cladding but the front door was ajar. We got out of the car, guns drawn. We crept closer. It was silent. In the distance, the bombed silhouette of L.A. rose into the sky. I pushed past Joshua, not able to bear it any longer, and opened the door. Dust danced before my eyes and the air was stuffy. Slowly I walked into the entrance hall with our family photos still hanging on the wall. I peeked into the living room. Muffin, our cat’s scratching post waited in the living room for his return. But there was no sign of Dad.

“He must’ve been here,” Josha called. “There are empty cans in the kitchen.” I hurried toward him. Cans of baked beans and meatball sauce sat on the table in the middle of the room, a dirty spoon beside them. Dad must have been out to search for food – there hadn’t been any in the house when we’d left weeks ago.

“Maybe he’s still close by,” I said, moving to the back of the house where the entrance to the bunker was. I hesitated at the top of the stairs leading down. I’d spent 1141 days within these walls and they’d felt like a prison. In the last few days before Dad and I’d left to search for food, I’d thought they’d be our grave. I crept down the steps, Joshua behind me.

Everything was the way I remembered it. Our beds pushed against the walls, the freezer where we’d kept Grandpa after he’d died, our improvised kitchen. My eyes lingered on the curtains guarding the pantry from view. Raspy breathing sounded behind them.

I took a step closer. “Sherry?” Joshua hissed.

I held up my hand to shut him up. Hesitantly, I inched toward the pantry. “Dad?”

No answer. I pulled out my gun and reached for the curtain.

Dad cowered against the shelf at the back of the small room. His arms were wrapped around his legs and his hands … were no longer hands. They were claws.

“Sherry, step back. Now.” Joshua gripped my arm and tried to pull me away but I couldn’t move.

“Dad? It’s me, Sherry.”

Slowly he lifted his head and I had to stop myself from gasping. His eyes were milky and the skin over his cheeks was shedding, strips of it clinging to the fur that had started sprouting from his neck and chin.

His gaze went through me. He shook himself and briefly his face showed recognition. “Sher —” The rest of my name was swallowed by a groan. He darted forward with a snarl and barrelled toward Joshua and me. I landed heavily on my back as Joshua fell, smacking his head on the edge of the table. He groaned, but didn’t get back up.

Panic pounding through my veins, I sat up. “Dad, it’s me. Please listen to me. We can help you.”

But Dad wasn’t there – only the Weeper. It threw itself at me. My face smashed against the filthy carpet. Claws dug into my shoulders, hot pain searing through my body. I bucked my hips and lashed out with my arms but the creature pressed me to the ground. Claws pressed into my back like razors, burying into my skin. I cried out in pain.

Warm liquid hit my neck. A gooey droplet trailed over the curve of my neck and into the hollow of my throat. Dad —
it
was drooling on me. Salivating.

I screamed. I tried to push myself up but the weight of him pressed me down. He sunk his claws deeper into my back. His breath felt hot against my neck. He would rip my throat out. I knocked the gun against his chin and something cracked. With a yowl he released me. I rolled on my back and sat up but before I had the chance to stand, it attacked again. The back of my head hit the ground. “Dad, please!” I cried.

I used one arm to keep its face from my throat but it was too strong. I tried to free my other arm but it was wedged between my back and the floor, still clutching the gun. I brought my knee up, claws ripping at me as we tumbled. My arms started burning and warm liquid soaked my shirt. I managed to free my arm holding the gun, but I could barely feel it, save for the tingling of pins and needles. The creature snarled and tightened its hold. Our bodies smashed against each other. Suddenly a shot sounded. The claws released me and with a shudder the creature fell off my body.

I stumbled to my feet, feeling blood run down my back. The creature lay in front of me. I staggered back, my stomach churning, my hand clamped over my mouth to stop the choked sobs from bursting out.

I’d killed my own father.

Slowly, Joshua was getting to his feet. “Sherry? Oh my god, what happened? You’re bleeding.”

“I killed him,” I whispered.

He pushed past me and turned my dad over, so he was lying on his back. Blood matted the fur around his stomach.

Joshua pressed a hand against Dad’s throat and turned to me, his eyes wide. “He’s alive.”

I staggered toward them and fell to my knees. I felt for the pulse until a soft thud-thud knocked against my fingers.

“We have to get him back to Safe-haven as fast as possible. Karen will be able to help him,” Joshua said, injecting Dad with the cure.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Quickly, Joshua gripped Dad under the armpits while I took his legs. He was heavy, his backside dragging over the ground as we carried him up the stairs. More blood oozed from his stomach wound, coating him and spilling to the ground. A trail of blood marked our path to the car. We heaved him onto the backseat. He didn’t even stir as Joshua started the engine.

I perched beside him and tried to still the bleeding. My hands shook as I pressed them against the stomach wound. Blood trickled over my fingers.

It was my fault. I had shot him. So close up the Weeper’s face looked like Dad. The same strong jaw and high forehead. The blood flow from his wound slowed.

“You can’t sit with him. If he wakes, he might attack,” Joshua warned from the front seat.

“But —”

“You can’t help him.”

I slipped into the passenger seat, reaching out with one hand behind me, trying not to flinch at the feel of the shedding skin on his arm. Dad – the Weeper – didn’t stir.

I sagged against my seat. As fast as we were driving we’d be in Santa Barbara in an hour. But would that be fast enough?