End of Days (13 page)

“Your next question?” Fitchett asked.

“Are you the government?”

He burst into laughter. “Governments scarcely exist anymore, with the possible exception of the International Aerospace Research Institute—and as I have made clear, I am
certainly
not them. I don’t think my aims could be any further away from theirs,” he said. “They actually believe they can stop the asteroid.”

“And you don’t?”

“Would I be doing all of this if I felt they could?” Fitchett asked. “We are operating here on the assumption that they will fail, and that the only hope for mankind’s salvation is to prepare for that eventuality.” He paused. “You still have your biggest question to ask. You want to know why you are here … correct?”

Billy nodded his head ever so slightly.

“You have been
chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” Billy asked.

“Chosen to
live
. For you, there is not just a
before
 … there will be an
after.”

Billy got to his feet. The bed was soft and he was tired, and he knew that if he lay down any longer he’d fall asleep. That was the last thing he wanted to do. The only thing keeping him awake were all the thoughts spinning around his head. Then again, maybe he
was
asleep and dreaming, because none of this could be real.

Slowly he walked around the room. The walls were shiny, curved, and metallic—they pinged when he tapped them with his knuckles. The light, as in the corridors, was bright, and although he knew it had to be artificial it seemed like natural daylight. The room itself was furnished with a desk, chair, dresser, and that very comfortable bed. Other than that there were no decorations, no pictures, nothing to mark it as belonging to anybody or any place in particular.

He had been given a card—his identification—and was told he should carry it at all times. In an act of defiance
and mistrust, he’d taken it out of his pocket the instant he’d entered the room and placed it on the dresser. This was, they said, his “room,” but he knew it was more like a jail cell. He looked over at the door—was it locked?

He went to check, but just before he got there it opened, sliding to one side. He was so startled that he stepped back, and the door slid shut again. He regained his composure and moved toward the door, and again it opened. Noted—automatic door. No question, he was free to leave the room, for now.

Billy stood in the open doorway and peered around the corner, first in one direction and then the other. The corridor was empty. There were no guards. If it
was
a cell and he
was
a prisoner, they weren’t doing a great job of guarding him.

Carefully, slowly, silently he walked down the corridor, trying to keep as close to the right-hand side as possible. He had no real idea where he was within the building, which worried him. He’d had no chance to orient himself to the layout, and he was tired, possibly suffering the lingering effects of the drug they’d given him. Besides, the whole place looked the same.

He came to a junction. One way might lead to the outside. The other way might mean running smack dab into some of those guards.

“Hello.”

Billy spun around, arms up, ready to fight, and … it was a girl, maybe a little younger, definitely a lot smaller than him.

“Are you planning to hit me?” the girl asked.

“No, of course not … sorry, you just surprised me.” He lowered his hands.

“Do you normally react so violently when people surprise you?”

“I don’t normally get surprised,” he said. “But when I am surprised … yeah, that would be my reaction. Wouldn’t it be yours?”

“No,” she said casually. “I imagine I’d just introduce myself. I’m Christina,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook hands, but he didn’t let his guard down.

“And you’re William Phillips,” she said.

“Yeah, I am … but how do you know that?”

“I was sent here to be your guide, to show you around and answer all your questions.”

Billy felt unnerved and uncomfortable. So this wasn’t a random meeting; he was her assignment. Was she just another kind of guard?

“Not that I know everything,” she said. “I was only brought to the complex three weeks ago myself. My area of specialization is languages.”

“What does that mean, your area of specialization?” he asked.

“The areas in which I have received my training. I am highly proficient in Arabic, English, French, Spanish, and Italian,” she answered, “and passable in German and Latvian.”

“Latvian?”

“Yes, Latvian. It is spoken in Latvia, a small country on the Baltic Sea. What languages do you speak?”

“I’m hoping to learn English one day.”

“English? But you’re speaking English right … oh, that was a joke,” she said.

“Apparently not a good one,” he replied.

This was definitely one strange girl. She was close to his age, neat, clean clothes, no makeup on her freshly scrubbed face. She was pretty, with blonde hair in a short cut and blue eyes. She was slim but not skinny. But there was something strange about those eyes. It wasn’t the colour. It was what was
behind
them … or really, what
wasn’t
. There was no fear. Instead he saw calmness, peace. Ironically, that almost made him more nervous. Why wasn’t she worried? Why wasn’t she scared? Anybody who wasn’t scared or worried was dead, or soon to be dead.

“So if it isn’t languages, what is your area of specialization?” she asked.

“Umm … what sorts of special skills are we talking about?” Billy asked.

“Well, besides linguistics, there is computer science, agriculture, music, electronics, literature, medicine, aerospace, government, transportation, psychology, law, philo—”

“Sounds like a lot of things,” he said, cutting her off.

“And of course, most of us have a secondary specialization. Mine is music. I can play the piano, organ, harpsichord, and synthesizer. Do you play any—?”

“None,” Billy said, “unless you consider humming to be musical.”

“Oh,” she responded, “that’s another joke, right?” She gave him a slight, confused smile.

“That was a joke. I’m glad that my new friend thinks I have a sense of humour,” he said.

“Am I your friend?” She sounded both surprised and pleased.

“Around here, you’re my
closest
friend. Matter of fact, you’re my
only
friend,” Billy answered.

The reality of what he had just said sank in, and he felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. He was no longer surrounded by the kids who had become his family. They were thousands of kilometres away, without him and his leadership and protection. And he was here, without them, and alone. He
did
need a friend. But more than that, he needed somebody to explain things to him, provide him with information … and maybe a way out, an escape.

“Since you were sent to be my guide, can you show me around?” Billy said. “And, you know, answer all my questions?”

“I’ll respond to all questions for which I have answers. I can also find additional sources of information or the appropriate experts to answer questions that are beyond my specialty.”

“And you’ll take me wherever I want to go, too?”

“Of course.”

“So … I want to go outside,” he said

“Certainly, come this way.”

She turned and started walking. He stood there, hesitating for a few seconds, surprised. He’d expected her to say no.

He hurried after her, walking in stride beside her as she
led him through the empty corridor until they came to a large metal doorway blocking their route. This was the end of the line.

“Do you have your identification card?” she asked.

“Not on me,” he said, truthfully. “I must have left it in my room by accident,” he added, the last part a lie. “Why don’t we use yours?”

“Certainly.”

She took a small plastic card from her pocket and inserted it in a slot beside the door. Suddenly and silently the door slid open to reveal bright light—sunlight. Once Billy’s eyes had adjusted he could see grass and trees.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

She had stepped out. Billy hurried after her, afraid that the door might close before he could. Anxiously he looked over his shoulder, waiting for somebody to stop them or come running after him, but there was nobody. The door slid shut behind them.

Billy walked across the rocks and open ground toward the low fence that surrounded the complex. He knew it was electrified, but he was still confident he could clear it with a jump.

“It is a beautiful day,” Christina said, “although I’ve heard that it gets very cold here in the winter. Not like where I’m from.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“I was raised in Morocco.”

“That’s where your parents are?”

“I don’t have parents,” she replied.

He suddenly felt very awkward. “Sorry, me neither. Mine were killed.”

“How old were you?” she asked.

“Ten.”

“That’s so sad, but at least you have memories of them, I suppose.”

“Yeah, some. Don’t you remember
your
parents?” Billy asked.

“I have no memories of them. I never had contact with my parents. I was raised in the collective from the time I was a baby.”

“The collective?”

“You don’t know about the collectives?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”

“I was part of a colony of young people who lived and were educated and trained in the same facility,” she said.

“You mean like an orphanage?”

“We were all without parents, but it was hardly an orphanage. It was a facility designed to train us in our areas of specialization.”

“And how many of you were there … 
are
there?”

“There were twenty-five in my collective. I imagine that number stays fairly constant.”

“And are there’s more than one of these collective things?”

“The are others in different places around the world. There are already people here from collectives in France, Kenya, China, Australia, Canada, Japan, and India.”

“So there are lots of kids like you?” Billy questioned.

“Not the same as me. We range in age from ten to sixteen, and as I said, each has his or her own area of specialization. We represent a diverse cross-section of—”

“I mean there are hundreds of kids raised the same way, right?” Billy said.

“Yes. And soon they will all be here,” she said.

“Why here?”

“We are all being gathered as the time nears.” She paused. “I was wondering, if you don’t mind my asking, if you weren’t raised in the collective, where were you raised?”

“In New York. I was on my own before they kidnapped me and brought me here.”

“Kidnapped? What do you mean? Oh, that’s another of your jokes … right?”

“No, I was put in handcuffs and brought here, and I don’t know why. If they already have hundreds of kids like you, why do they need one kid like me?”

His question was sincere and heartfelt. Why was he here?

“They must have a good reason. They always have a good reason for everything. Have you asked?”

“I was told I was chosen,” he admitted. What he didn’t want to admit was that he was afraid to ask what he’d been chosen for.

“If you were chosen, then obviously you must possess some very important skills or abilities or knowledge,” she said.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait for them to tell me what they are.”

They stopped at the fence.

“Do you know what’s out there?” he asked.

“I’ve been told mainly coniferous trees, assorted flora and fauna associated with a temperate climatic zone.”

She continued to offer technical information. Billy was both confused and fascinated—this was just one more strange part of an already very strange situation. It was like a bizarre dream. In a few short hours he’d been taken at gunpoint, then driven and flown, threatened and handcuffed and drugged, and now here he was listening to this girl explain trees to him.

“Yeah, thanks, that’s all really interesting,” he said, “but I wanted to know stuff more like is there a road close by?”

She shook her head. “This location was selected because of its distance from both population centres and transportation corridors.”

“What?”

“It’s far away from people and hard to get to,” she explained.

“Oh, okay.”

He wondered if she was telling the truth, or if she’d been sent to him and allowed to bring him outside just to reinforce the idea that he couldn’t escape. She didn’t strike him as the kind of person who
could
trick him, but maybe that just made her the best possible candidate for the job.

Billy looked over his shoulder. Nobody was visible. Nobody was coming for them. This was the best chance he’d had, maybe the best chance he was going to have.

“What if I want to go out there?” he said, pointing into the trees.

“Then you could go. I could bring you.”

“But what about the fence, isn’t it electric?” he asked.

“It is, but I could turn it off. You could too if you had your identity card. We can go, but I don’t think it would be too wise to go too far.”

“Why not?” Was it because if they went too far he’d see there was a road?

“We might get lost … or we could get found.”

“What does that mean,
get found?”

“As I mentioned, there is fauna typical of this region.”

“You keep losing me with your words. You have to speak English,” he said.

“I was speaking English, although technically the word “fauna” is Latin and means animals. There are animals in the forest.”

“Like bunnies and deer?”

“And cougars and black bears and grizzly bears. I think it would be wise if we took along an escort or a guide if we plan to travel much beyond the fence.”

Billy didn’t want a guide—a
guard
—but he didn’t want to meet a bear, either … if there really were bears. Was this just another strategy to keep him inside the fence?

“I’ll try to arrange for an escort tomorrow, but right now we should probably go to the main hall. It’s almost time for dinner and I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”