Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Third Series (Days 46 to 53) Read online

  After scribbling a few items in my notebook, I take one more look out the window and stare at the scrubland on the other side of the hatch. When I came down into this bunker, I wasn't entirely sure what would happen, but I was worried that I'd end up being besieged by those creatures. I imagined them banging on the glass, desperately trying to get inside. I knew they'd never be able to get to me, but still, it would have been unsettling. I had nightmares about the whole thing; some nights I'd wake up, covered in sweat and convinced that somehow they'd be able to prize the seal open.

  As usual, my fears were completely unfounded. I'd done too good a job, and prepared too well.

  In the end, a few of them showed up, but basically they died off pretty quickly. I watched as a handful of my children made the pilgrimage here to find me, and then I watched their impotent anger, and then I watched them die. Some of them tried to talk to me, begging me to let them in and calling me a god, but I just stood and watched as they fell apart. It was a beautiful thing to experience.

  Well, beautiful and sad. Two sides of the same coin.

  Sometimes I wonder if I should open the hatch and step outside, but I know I need to be patient. The server is up and running and I'm convinced that sooner or later, someone is going to get the goddamn message and find me. I mean, is it really too much to hope that there are still people out there who can rise to the challenge? The creatures might be gone, and they might have been something of a mistake, but the world should still have a few stragglers left behind. Besides, I know for a fact that someone has been pinging my server, which means that I've been noticed.

  All I ever wanted, really, was to be noticed.

  I just hope they get here soon. I only have enough food, water and air for another 351 days, and I've got a feeling my sanity might get down to the bone a lot sooner.

  Thomas

  "Don't you remember what I told you?" Quinn asks, stepping behind Kaylee. "Didn't you listen to a word I said yesterday?"

  A small crowd has gathered in front of the platform. Dead-eyed and weak, the survivors seem to be almost hypnotized by the sight of the girl being judged. I've got to admit, Quinn has a sense for the theatrical, and she seems to know how to keep people interested. As she walks all the way around Kaylee and finally stops in front of her, she has a curious look in her eyes, as if she's already decided what to do.

  "I told you not to steal again," Quinn says eventually. "I told you to become a better person. And how did you respond? You tried to become a better thief instead. You were more sneaky, more cunning. You'd have succeeded, too, if it wasn't for the fact that I made sure someone was watching you the whole time. Unfortunately, Kaylee, I already suspected that you might disappoint me."

  Kaylee doesn't respond. She just stares straight ahead, with a look of fear in her eyes. It's almost as if she knows what's coming next, and she's ready for her fate.

  Quinn pauses, before turning to me.

  "See?" she says after a moment. "This is a perfect example of what I was talking about before. This girl had a chance to better herself, but instead she just ran off and stole from the communal food supply. She put her own needs above the needs of everyone else here, and she thought she was smarter than all of us when, in fact, she's just another fool." She turns to Kaylee. "Isn't that right?"

  Again, the girl doesn't reply. There are tears in her eyes, but she seems to be forcing herself to remain stony-faced.

  "And now she arrogantly remains silent," Quinn adds. "What do you think, Thomas? Should I teach her a lesson? How should I punish this young lady, since my efforts yesterday seem to have failed so spectacularly? I mean, I've tried reason and logic, I've tried kindness, and she just knocks it back in my face. It's tempting to believe that some people are utterly beyond salvation, which leads me to..." She pauses again. "What would you do, Thomas? If you had the power, how would you punish her?"

  "I don't know," I say, worried that I'm being tested. "I just..."

  "Should I just let her go?"

  I shake my head.

  "Of course not. She's a thief, and she's been caught twice now. Something has to be done to ensure that she doesn't do this again. She needs to be removed from the rest of the community, not only to protect the dwindling food stocks but also so that she can have another chance to learn her lesson." She pauses, before reaching under her shirt and pulling out a hunting knife with a large, serrated blade. "Or I could kill her."

  "No!" I shout, stepping forward.

  "Why not? She's worthless."

  "But you can't -" Turning to look at the crowd, I realize that they're all staring at the platform with varying degrees of disinterest. It's as if they don't care that a girl might be murdered right in front of them, and I can't help feeling that whatever Quinn decides to do, her actions will be met by more or less the same blank reaction.

  "I can't what?" Quinn asks with a frown. "Kill her? Of course I can. I can do anything I want. Who else is going to administer justice around here? These sheep would probably just let the little bitch carry on stealing from them, which..." She pauses. "Which," she continues after a moment, "might actually be something that sets Kaylee apart from the others." Still holding the knife, she seems lost in thought. "Maybe a thief is someone who refuses to sink into the crowd. Maybe this young lady has a little more sense than I'd anticipated."

  "Kill me," Kaylee says suddenly.

  "Did you hear that?" Quinn asks, turning to me with a broad smile.

  "Please," Kaylee continues, with tears streaming down her face. "I don't want to live like this. I'm hungry all the time..."

  "Then why haven't you ended your own life?" Quinn asks.

  Kaylee's lips move, but no words come out. A moment later, she buries her head in her hands and starts to sob.

  "Are you too scared?" Quinn continues. "Do you worry about how much it's going to hurt? That's a very human way of looking at things." After a moment, she takes Kaylee's right hand and gently forces her to hold the knife. "Here. I'm sure you can be inventive. If you truly want to die, then end your life right here. Don't be shy. Everyone dies eventually, and I'm sure some of these people might even envy you. After all, who hasn't craved death since the world ended? Go on. If you can't be good, be brave."

  Kaylee stares at the knife, her hand trembling as if she's genuinely considering her options. I watch with horror as she slowly moves the blade toward her chest, and although I want to shout out and tell her not to do it, I feel as if I'm frozen in place.

  "Go on," Quinn says softly. "After all the cowardly things you've done, be brave right at the very end of your life. It's more than most people manage. I mean, how many truly brave people have you ever met in your life? Two? One? None?" She leans closer to Kaylee's face. "Do it!"

  I wait.

  The crowd waits.

  Silence.

  Suddenly Kaylee jerks the knife toward her chest, only for Quinn to reach out and grab it at the last minute, pulling it away again. Twisting the girl's wrist until she lets out a cry of pain, Quinn forces her to drop the knife before shoving her roughly down to the ground. When Kaylee reaches out to grab the knife again, Quinn kicks the weapon away before crunching her heel down hard against her hand.

  No-one in the crowd really reacts. A few coughs and grunts here and there, but nothing more.

  "You surprise me," Quinn says, finally freeing Kaylee's hand before stepping across the platform and picking the knife up. "It's so very rare for someone to truly surprise me, but you've managed it. I don't mind admitting that I really didn't think you had it in you. I thought you were a coward who'd always choose life. It's a good job I learned the truth, though. This way, you're going to be extremely useful to me. That's all that really matters anymore... Whether or not people are useful in the grand scheme of things."

  "Please," Kaylee sobs, "I don't want to -"

  "Get up," Quinn says firmly.

  "But -"

  "Get up!"

  Slowly, and with obvious pain, Kaylee
gets to her feet and starts wiping her eyes.

  "Please," she whimpers, "let me die. I just want to be allowed to die. There's nothing wrong with -"

  "Shut up!" Quinn shouts.

  Kaylee takes a step back, clearly shocked by the outburst.

  "You're going to come with us," Quinn tells her, "and you're going to listen to what I have to say. You've managed to redeem yourself, and I think you'll be very surprised when I tell you what's going to happen next. The world is moving at a faster pace, and there are jobs to be done." She turns to me. "Don't you think so, Thomas? We could have managed the journey alone, just the two of us, but a girl with Kaylee's strength of character might be a real asset. I'm sure we'll make a wonderful little team as we set out to find the source of that signal."

  Although I'm being dragged way too fast into this situation, I feel as if I'm in no position to argue. Quinn is a force of nature, and as she turns and heads back toward her building, Kaylee follows almost without question. Glancing at the small crowd, I realize that everyone here just seems to accept whatever Quinn says and does, and I don't know whether to be horrified or impressed. Finally, feeling that I don't belong up here on this platform, I turn and head into the building. For now, at least, I figure my best bet is to see what Quinn has to offer. If she's right about this signal, it means there are other people out there in the world. I have no idea if there's a real chance for the human race to recover, but I have to at least find out.

  For the first time in weeks, I feel as if there might actually be a future.

  The Bunker

  "Bang," I mutter as I hold the rifle up, admiring its long, smooth barrel for a moment. I never used to be the kind of guy who liked guns. Hell, I was in favor of strict gun control. Now, however, with my life riding on my ability to protect myself, I find myself appreciating these fine weapons so much more.

  Aiming at the hatch, I close one eye and peer down the scope with the other. For a moment, I try to imagine what it would be like to have some poor bastard right in the crosshairs. With a faint smile, I pull the trigger, although the gun only makes a satisfying clicking sound.

  "Boom," I say calmly as I lower the rifle. "One more goddamn asshole out of my way."

  Before I came down to the bunker, I stocked up with plenty of rifles, handguns and grenades. I've got enough weapons here to hold back a full army, and even though I doubt I'll have to face off against anyone with too much firepower, it feels good to be prepared. Placing the rifle on a table, next to the rest of my weapons, I take a moment to admire them all. Damn it, I feel like a kid in a candy store, and there's a part of me that actually wants some bastard to come and cause me trouble, so I can take a pop at him.

  Once I'm certain that all my weapons are in good working order, I head over to the desk and pick up my copy of Ulysses. Just because I've become a man who likes firepower doesn't mean I'm not cultured. I've already read this particular book twice over the past month and a half, and now I intend to start again from page one. Joyce was always such a master of prose, and when I read his greatest achievement, I find myself idly wondering if perhaps I could write something just as powerful. The problem is, since there's no-one around to read anything I come up with, I find it hard to get motivated. I'll just have to be happy with the knowledge that in another life, I was almost certainly a literary genius.

  Opening a bottle of whiskey - one of several that I saved for my long sojourn down here in the bunker - I pour myself a glass and then settle in a chair. After glancing at the laptop and checking that everything is more or less under control, I raise my glass in a mock toast to whichever poor souls eventually come and find me here.

  "Cheers," I say with a grin. "Same procedure as every year!"

  After taking a sip, I open the book and stare at the inscription on the first page. It's been so long since I received this beautiful gift, and it's hard to believe that the hand that wrote this inscription is now cold and dead. Still, love outlasts the soul, and I know that she'd be proud of me. In fact, these words of hers feel to me like the real start of the book, and I read them several times over:

  To Jacob,

  with all my love,

  Annalise

  If only she could see me now. Glancing at the hatch, I remind myself that someone out there is probably headed this way. When they finally arrive, I can put phase two of my plan into action. Until then, however, I've got nothing to do apart from eat, drink and read.

  Sometimes, life is good.

  Thomas

  "Are you really going to come with us?" I ask, keeping my voice low as I sit with Kaylee.

  She turns to me, but she seems a little dazed, as if she's not sure what to say. When she glances over at Quinn, who's still working frantically on the laptop at the other end of the room, I realize that Kaylee's problem is that she's not certain she's allowed to talk to me. I don't know exactly what's happened to her, but something's definitely wrong.

  "She thinks she's found a signal," I explain, hoping to at least get some dialogue started. "She's trying to triangulate the source and then I guess we're gonna go and check it out. I guess I understand it, at least a bit. I think she knows what she's doing, but..."

  My voice trails off as I realize I'm not getting anywhere.

  After staring at me for a moment, Kaylee finally allows herself the faintest of smiles, although she still seems scared and uncertain.

  "I've got a truck," I continue. "We're gonna use it, so we won't be too tired. There's enough gas to keep us going for about a week, and I figure that should be enough time." I pause as I realize that I'm not sure how I got dragged so deep into this situation. There's a part of me that thinks I should have stuck with George; no matter how stubborn or deluded he might have been, at least he wasn't crazy.

  "I don't mind," she says suddenly.

  "You don't mind what?"

  "Whatever." She pauses. "Living or dying. There's no point to either."

  "We might as well at least check it out," I reply. "If there's something out there... What if the world's not ending? What if someone's got a plan?"

  "Maybe," she mutters, although she really doesn't seem to care either way. It's almost as if she's high on some kind of drug, although I think the more likely cause is some kind of post-traumatic stress problem. "It kinda... hurts to think about it," she adds. "I'm sure it's all gonna be okay."

  "I can hear you two chatting away," Quinn says after a moment, not looking up from the laptop. "I don't mind you talking, but just be aware that I can hear every word." Finally turning to us, she stares for a moment, as if she finds something amusing. "I wasn't going to reveal this yet," she says, getting to her feet and heading over to a cupboard at the far end of the room. Opening the door, she rifles through a box before pulling out a sheet of paper and looking at it for a few seconds. "I don't want to freak either of you out," she continues, "but sometimes I have these very powerful dreams, and I like to keep a record of them."

  As she comes over to join us, I can't help feeling that Quinn's madness is becoming more and more evident.

  "Do you believe that dreams can tell us things about the future?" she asks. "I know this probably sounds a little cuckoo, but just hear me out. Do you believe that dreams are the mechanism by which our subconscious mind picks up on echoes from the future?"

  I look over at Kaylee, but it's clear she's not going to answer. In fact, as she frowns, I realize she probably doesn't even understand what Quinn's talking about. She seems somehow disconnected from the world.

  "Thomas," Quinn continues. "Did you hear the question?"

  "Dreams are dreams," I reply, turning to her. "I mean, they're just stuff that comes up from deep in our heads. It goes in when we're awake, and then it comes out when we're asleep. All, like, jumbled."

  "How quaint," she says, before turning the piece of paper around so we can see a crude sketch of three figures. "But if that's true, how do you explain this?"

  As soon as I see them, I realize that the fig
ures are Quinn, Kaylee and me. The likenesses aren't great, but there are enough similarities and, besides, the clothes are a perfect match. She's even written T, Q and K under each of us, as if she had some idea of our names. I'm not sure whether to be amused by the fact that Quinn drew this, or genuinely freaked out. Still, there has to be some kind of logical explanation. I'm sure as hell not about to believe that this crazy woman had an accurate dream about the future.

  "This was from a dream I had on the very first night," she continues. "It was so powerful and vivid, I had to get an image down immediately. In the dream, I was setting out on a journey, and I had two people with me. When I woke up the following morning, most of the dream had already faded from my memory, but I had a strong image of the three of us. It's like it was some kind of vision, and even though I don't usually believe in such things, I kept the drawing in case..." She pauses, as if she's stunned by this development. "It must mean something," she adds eventually. "After everything that's happened, with all this chaos surrounding us, somehow a message has been sent to me."

  I glance at Kaylee, but she's just staring absently at the piece of paper.

  "Thomas," Quinn continues. "You can see that this is the three of us, can't you? There's no doubt about it."

  I want to disagree with her, but I can't. Unless she whipped the picture up some time in the past few hours, it's undeniable that something seems to have caused her to draw us, and if the dream came so long ago... I've never been the kind of person who believes in this kind of thing, but I have no doubt that Quinn is telling the truth. It's either the biggest coincidence I've ever encountered, or it's a sign that something strange is happening here.

  "It's our destiny," she adds with a smile. "It might even be the destiny of the whole human race. Maybe this all happened for a reason, and some kind of force is pushing us to the heart of that reason, and now we're on the cusp of uncovering something huge. What if it's -"