Mass Extinction Event (Book 2): Days 9-16 (16 page)

Epilogue

"Maybe," says Miles, the I.T. guy, as he stares at the blue screen.

"I need better than that," replies Dr. McNulty. "I need guaranteed access to every file on Joseph's computer, and I need it fast."

"Maybe," Miles says again, plugging a U.S.B. drive into the computer. "Problem is, he knew what he was doing. When you delete data from the drive, the data doesn't actually go anywhere. The computer just marks it as available space. What this guy did, though, is he very carefully saved new data over that space several times. It's like covering your tracks by adding lots of extra tracks."

"But you can get the original data, can't you?"

"Maybe."

Sighing, McNulty steps back and watches as Miles boots a series of programs from the U.S.B. drive. For several minutes, Miles types furiously, switching between various windows as he attempts to peel back the layers of extra data that have been used to clutter the drive.

"Anything?" McNulty asks eventually, keen to get some answers as soon as possible.

"Maybe."

"So you can do it?"

"Maybe."

"What have you found so far?"

Miles pauses. "I've found the basic architecture of the system he was using," he says after a moment. "He had a partition, like a secret section of the drive, and..." He pauses again. "Good news and bad news," he announces eventually, hitting a couple more buttons. "The main part of the drive is no good. There's too much corruption. However, this guy wasn't quite as smart as he thought he was. He partitioned a side of the drive and hid it pretty well, but not well enough. The best part of this is that the partitioned section wasn't over-written. I guess he just forgot to take that into account."

McNulty stares at him. "Which means what?"

"Which means that he basically went to great lengths to delete all the boring data," Miles continues with a grin, "but he left the important data almost untouched. Classic rookie mistake. You see, if he'd come to me, I'd have been able to help him get the job done properly, but obviously he decided he could do it all himself, which turned out to be bullshit. It's pretty typical, really. Most people just assume that this kind of thing is easy, when in fact it's highly complex."

"Let me see," McNulty says, watching as a series of files are opened on the screen.

"What was this guy working on, anyway?" asks Miles.

Ignoring him, McNulty continues to stare at the screen. For a moment, he's not sure what he's seeing, but finally he started to understand. All the color drains from his face as he realizes that Joseph's plans have far, far exceeded his worst fears.

Day Thirteen

Prologue

Six months ago

"Can you listen to me?" Shauna asks, hurrying through the house as she tries to cut Eriksen off at the door. "Carl, this is fucking important!"

"So's my job," he mutters, grabbing his leather jacket and pulling the door open. "Don't worry. I'll be back by nine and we can fool around."

"It's not that," she says, grabbing his arm and trying to force him to stay. "I need to tell you something."

"You hot for the cock?" he asks with a grin.

"I'm pregnant," she shouts, pushing the door shut.

He stares at her, his face suddenly losing all its color as his eyes search her expression for even the slightest hint that this might all be a really,
really
bad joke.

"I'm pregnant," she says again, searching his face for some sign of a response. "Are you listening to me? I'm having a baby. I'm already a month gone. I saw a doctor this morning and had it confirmed. In about eight months' time, I'm gonna give birth." She pauses, giving him a chance to say something. "Did you hear me?" she continues after a moment. "Carl, I'm fucking pregnant."

Eriksen stares at her, his mouth hanging open.

"Say something," she continues, forcing a faint, hesitant smile. "Carl, what are you thinking?"

"Is it mine?" he asks after a moment.

Before she can stop herself, she slaps him on the side of the face.

"Of course it's yours, you fucking asshole!" she shouts, barely able to contain her anger. "Who else's do you think it'd be? Some random guy down at the bar? A customer from the mall? Some passing guy in the street just slipped one in me?"

"Fine," he mutters. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, before checking his watch and then walking across the hallway to sit on the stairs. "I used protection," he says after a moment. "Every fucking time, I used a condom. I mean, those things are supposed to be one hundred per cent reliable, aren't they? That's what it said on the machine at the bar. Kind of, anyway. Ninety-nine per cent or something, but that's basically a hundred. What the hell happened? Did you tear them on purpose?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

He pauses.

"I'm having it," she says firmly. "I don't give a damn what you think, but I'm having this baby. There's no fucking way I'm letting you talk me into getting another abortion. I can't go through that again."

"But if -"

"No!" she says, raising her voice. "Just... no! Seriously, Carl. You weren't there, okay, so you don't know what it was like."

They stand in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Sure," he says eventually.

"Sure?"

He nods.

"And you're gonna need a better job," she continues. "There's no way you can support me and a baby on whatever your uncle gives you at that garage. You need a proper job, Carl. One with proper regular hours and a regular pay-check and all that crap. Something with a contract, and health benefits, and stable hours and holiday time and all that stuff that other people,
normal
people, have. Something decent and fucking solid."

"You know any jobs like that?" he replies with a fatalistic sigh.

"This baby's gonna need shit," she says, walking over to him. "Clothes. Medicine. I don't know what else, but babies are expensive. I'm gonna need help too. You think I can carry on working at the mall when I'm as big as a beach-ball?" She smiles, hoping that he might do the same, but she can see the worry in his eyes. "You'll be a good father, Carol," she continues after a moment. "I know you probably don't think you will, but I
know
you've got it in you. I know you're worried you'll just be like your father, but -"

"I'm not worried about that," he mutters. "Seriously, Shauna, don't tell me what I'm worried about. It's money, okay? It's always fucking money." He sighs. "Just when I thought I'd got everything sorted out, this comes along. I mean, seriously, this is the worst possible moment in my entire life for you to get pregnant."

"No-one forced you to screw me," she replies, "and no-one forced you to buy cheap condoms."

"They were
not
cheap!" he says firmly. "It's obvious, isn't it? My swimmers are clearly too strong for any rubber to handle."

"This isn't a joke," she replies, trying to stay calm.

"No, but come on..." He pauses. "In a weird way, it's kind of impressive, isn't it? I beat medical science."

"If that's really how you want to look at it," she continues, with a faint look of disgust on her face. "Jesus, I was hoping for a mature reaction, not a bunch of lame jokes."

Getting to his feet, he sighs. "I've got to go to work," he says, heading to the door. "We'll talk about this later. We
should
talk about it, but not now. You wanna meet me down the road around five, and we can get a beer?"

"I'm not drinking," she replies, placing a hand on her belly. "Are you kidding, Carl? I can't drink alcohol while I'm pregnant, and you need to cut down too! Things have got to change around here. We need to find a place of our own, and we need to start thinking about baby clothes and names and all that stuff. I've already been online and started reading about stuff. I'm gonna buy some books -"

"Jesus," he mutters, interrupting her, "did you win the lottery or something?"

"This stuff is important!" she reminds him, trying not to raise her voice. She hates the way she always ends up sounding like her mother when she talks to him, but she always has to lecture him about taking things more seriously. "I'm not gonna be one of those bad mothers you see down the mall," she continues. "I'm not gonna be bad for this kid, and neither are you. We're gonna read the books and we're gonna be good at this stuff."

"Sounds like it's gonna be a lot of fun," he mutters.

"Is that your only response?" she asks. "You find out you're going to be a father, and all you care about is the fact that you won't be able to go out all the time and get fucking wasted?" She waits for a reply, but finally she realizes that he has nothing left to say. "I guess it was dumb of me to think that you'd be a man about it, huh?" With that, she pushes past him and heads upstairs.

"Wait!" he calls after her. "Shauna!"

"Be a man!" she shouts back at him.

"Shauna!"

By the time she gets to her bedroom, tears are streaming down her face. She sits on the end of the bed, expecting him to come up and tell her that everything's going to be okay, but a moment later she hears the front door being slammed shut; thirty seconds after that, she hears his van pulling away, and she realizes that he's left for work. All she wanted was for him to follow her upstairs and tell her that it'd all be okay, that he'd accept his responsibilities and do the right thing.

Instead, he left. He went off to work, leaving her alone to deal with it all.

"Fucking asshole," she whispers through the tears, before leaning back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Fucking stinking asshole!"

Today

Elizabeth

Pennsylvania

"Do you know how to use this thing?" Bridger shouts, holding a rifle out toward me.

I nod.

"Then take it," he spits, thrusting it into my hands. "And for God's sake, don't blow any of our heads off."

All around me, people are running and shouting. A couple of minutes ago, just after sunrise, Bridger raised the alarm. He'd been on sentry duty all night and he swears that as the sun came up, he spotted a distinctive, lurching figure on the horizon, stumbling toward us. In other words: one of the creatures.

"Are they smart enough to go around and try to come in through the back?" Thor asks.

"It's possible," Patricia replies, loading two cartridges into her shotgun. "We need to form a defensive perimeter. I'll take the north, Bridger takes the south, you take the east and..." She pauses, before glancing over to me. "You take the west, Elizabeth."

"Where are the others?" Bridger asks.

"Toad's too badly hurt to get up," she continues, "and Shauna's a liability in her current state."

"Eriksen was wasted last night," Thor points out. "The guy's probably still sleeping it off. There's no way in hell I'm giving that dick a rifle."

"We don't have time to stand around talking," Patricia says, heading out the door. "Everyone get ready."

We all follow, making our way onto the wooden porch that runs along one edge of the farmhouse. The whole world seems to be bathed in a warm orange glow, but there are plenty of shadows in which a creature could be lurking. As the four of us fan out and take our positions on different sides of the building, I can't help wondering whether I was right to say that I know how to use the rifle. I mean, I've used one before, but I'm no expert. I have no idea, for example, whether there's any kind of safety catch on the damn thing, although I can't find one. Taking up my position on the west side of the farmhouse, I stare at the nearby trees and look for any sign of movement.

"Anyone see anything?" Bridger shouts.

"Shoot on sight," Patricia replies. "Don't let the damn thing get close to you. As soon as you see it, blow its fucking brains out. Aim for the head or the chest. Remember, we don't have a whole lot of spare ammunition, and it's totally possible to finish one of these bastards with a single bullet. Aim for precision and efficiency."

My heart racing, I keep my eyes glued on the trees. I keep expecting one of those creatures to come stumbling toward me at any moment. Since I doubt I'm a very good shot, I figure my best option would be to let it get a little closer before firing straight at its face, although I'm worried that maybe the creature might be able to move faster than I'm anticipating. Every time I even look at a gun, I still think about Henry, but at least I'm no longer scared of the damn things. The rifle feels heavy and substantial in my hands; I respect and I know it's powerful, but I'm not terrified. It wasn't a gun that killed Henry. Not really. It was Bob.

"They can't run, can they?" I shout.

"What do you mean?" Patricia calls back to me.

"They're slow-moving," I continue. "Aren't they?"

"We don't know enough about them to be sure," she replies after a moment. "Don't make any assumptions."

"Are you sure you saw something?" Thor calls out.

"I'm not an idiot!" Bridger replies. "I looked toward the northern perimeter and I saw the damn thing lumbering along, headed this way. It was just like the other times we've seen them. It's definitely out here somewhere."

"Calm down!" Patricia continues. "Everyone just keep your head straight, okay? If Bridger says he saw something, that's good enough for me!"

"It should be here by now," Thor replies. "They just come straight for us. Why wouldn't it be here yet?"

"Maybe it's watching us," Bridger suggests. "Maybe it's planning something."

"Simmer down!" Patricia says. "Just stay calm, cut the chat, and focus on the task at hand! We'll have time to talk about the possibilities later."

Taking a deep breath, I adjust my grip on the gun. So far, I haven't seen a damn thing to suggest that one of the creatures is anywhere nearby, although I don't doubt Bridger for a second. He seems like a very down-to-earth, very sober kind of guy, and I'm sure that when he says he saw one of the creatures in the distance, he's telling the truth. The problem is, based on my limited encounters with the damn things, I'm convinced that they're pretty smart. The others seem to be expecting it to come lumbering mindlessly toward the farmhouse like some kind of zombie, but I'm worried that it might be out there, planning something.

Several minutes pass, and there's still no sign of the intruder. I want to believe that the panic is over, that maybe it just kept on going and didn't bother to come toward us, but deep down I know that's unlikely. Still, how long are we going to stand like this, waiting for it to make an appearance? If we keep this up for much longer, I swear to God, my heart's going to leap out of my chest. Besides, I can't shake the fear that there might be more and more of these things on their way.

"We should check the traps," Bridger calls out eventually.

"You think that's what happened to it?" Thor asks.

"Not yet," Patricia says firmly. "It might still be coming."

"It'd be here by now," Thor replies.

"Just wait a little longer!" Patricia insists. "We can't risk that thing coming up from behind and surprising us."

For a few more minutes, we maintain our positions. I've got my rifle aimed at the trees, with my finger on the trigger in case I spot anything. By this point, my mind is starting to play tricks on me and I keep thinking the shadows are twitching; telling myself to stay calm and not act like a panicky little idiot, I move my finger away from the trigger. The others seem so calm and controlled, and I know I haven't won their respect yet.

"Elizabeth!" Patricia calls out. "Anything?"

"Nothing on this side," I reply.

"Fuck," she mutters. "Where the hell is it?"

"It's out there somewhere," Bridger says firmly. "I know what I saw. It was as clear as hell. You know the way they walk, like they've got a slight limp? I saw the damn thing. I should've just gone after it myself instead of coming to get the rest of you. I should've maintained a visual fucking lock on it."

"You did the right thing," Patricia tells him.

"You think? Now we don't know where the damn thing is, but do you really think it just glanced in this direction, saw us, and decided not to pop in and say hi?" He pauses. "It's watching us. It must be planning something. Jesus Christ, maybe these things are smarter than we realized."

"I'm going to check the traps," Patricia calls out. "Everyone stay in position. I'll see if it maybe stumbled into one of the pits that Toad dug."

For the next few minutes, we remain in position while Patricia goes into the forest, looking for any sign that the creature might have been disabled. Every second seems to last for an eternity while we wait for her to come back, and I'm convinced that at any moment we might hear a gunshot or, worse, a scream. I want to call out to her, to ask if she's found anything yet, but again, I don't want to seem like the scared, naive member of the group. Forcing myself to stay calm, I keep my eyes focused on the forest. I've met these creatures before, and I know they're smart. If this thing hasn't shown itself yet, it's because it knows there's no point getting itself blown to pieces. I think Bridger's right: I think it's smart enough to be planning something, and it -

Suddenly there's a gunshot in the distance, ringing out through the forest.

"What the hell happened?" Bridger calls out.

"Patricia?" Thor shouts.

Silence.

"Stay where you are!" Bridger shouts. "Nobody move! We have to -"

"Stand down!" Patricia calls out suddenly. "It's over!"

"What do you mean?" Bridger asks as we all make our way around to the front of the farmhouse, just in time to see her walking out of the forest with her rifle slung over her shoulder.

"I found it," she says as she reaches us. "It was hiding behind a tree, watching me. When I saw it, it turned to run and I blew its goddamn head off. I tossed the corpse into one of the traps and left it to rot."

"Jesus," Bridger says, turning to Thor. "I told you."

"Are we sure there was only one?" Thor replies.

"Only one that I saw," Bridger continues, "but I've got a couple of hours left on duty. The rest of you can get back to sleep. I want to have a planning meeting later. Toad's defenses are good, but I'm not sure they're still adequate."

"I agree," Patricia says. "The sentry system's too unreliable. No-one can be expected to keep a proper eye on the whole place. We need something better."

"You think His Lordship's gonna listen to reason?" Thor asks. "Toad's not exactly the cooperative type. It's
his
farm, remember."

"He'll listen to reason," Patricia says.

"It's not like he can stop us," Bridger adds. "The guy can't even get out of bed right now. We're effectively a man down."

"I think I'll stay up with you," Patricia replies. "Just in case. We might need to start doubling up on the sentry duty from now on. There's no reason to assume that they can't show up in pairs, or from different directions. We need to assume that they're smart. They're definitely not dumb animals blundering toward us. They're capable of planning, and they can be stealthy. It's more than possible that one of them could come up with a plan and try to sneak through the door. I'd rather be over-prepared than get caught out."

Turning and heading to the house, Thor mutters something that the rest of us don't hear. Bridger walks back up onto the porch and rests his rifle against the wall, while Patricia stays next to me, clearly on the alert.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Of course," she replies, a little defensively. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"That was quick out there," I continue, starting to wonder if she's being entirely honest. "You were only gone a couple of minutes, but you managed to find the creature, kill it and get rid of its body."

"I was lucky," she replies. "Even in this crapped-up world, we get a little luck now and again."

I smile politely, even though I'm not entirely sure that I can believe her.

"Get some rest," she continues. "You're on sentry duty later. Believe me, most of the time it's dull, soul-sapping work."

"I'm hungry," I reply. "You want me to make something for you while I'm getting breakfast?"

"I'll eat later," she says. "Right now, I think I might go and double-check that all the traps are still in place. We're going to need to set some more soon. We need a whole perimeter warning system in place." With that, she turns and wanders around to the other side of the house.

Although there's a part of me that wants to go with her, I figure I need to forget about my suspicions and focus on getting something to eat. The important thing is that the creature didn't get to the house, and although Patricia's encounter seems to have been conveniently clinical and neat, I guess I just have to accept that she was lucky. After all, she's got no reason to lie.