Extinct (46 page)

“Yes, it stands to reason,” Robby said. “They were stuffed—just skin and fur—and now they’re breathing, bleeding animals.”

Pete and Lisa lifted Sheila, who moaned through her gurgling breath. When Pete hugged her close to clamp down on her wound she exhaled a strained sigh. Lisa supported Sheila’s other armpit, but Pete took most of the weight because he was taller.

“What’s ‘respawn’ mean?” Lisa asked again.

“It’s like in a video game, where the monsters come back to life every so often,” Brad said. As he spoke he turned his light back to the darkness, looking for more glowing green eyes.
 

“Faster,” Nate said. “I don’t want to find out what happens next around here.”

Nate whipped back around when they heard a clattering sound behind them. He turned just in time to see the deer, hooves slipping and leaving bloody footprints, emerge from the hall to the bathroom. It paused for a second, eyes locked with Nate’s headlamp, before it turned and trotted off, deeper into the store.
 

“Deer respawn,” Nate said. “Move faster.”

Brad and Robby led the group in a fast shuffle. Pete and Lisa tried to move as gently as they could, but Sheila began to convulse and deep red blood spilled from her lips. She couldn’t inhale. Pete compressed her chest with another hug and tried to seal the hole with his finger before air could leak back in around her lungs. Sheila managed one more labored breath before her body shook and her head slumped to her chest. Lisa and Pete exchanged a look over Sheila’s slumped head, and kept carrying her dead weight.

They passed down a long hallway. A pair of moose lay in giant pools of blood, leaning against the windows which stretched from floor to ceiling. The windows revealed nothing but packed snow. Robby walked closest to the moose, leaning in to get a good look at them as they moved by. Brad kept his attention forward, reacting to every glint and reflection coming from the display cases up ahead. In the hunting department, Brad moved quickly down the wide wooden staircase, sweeping his shotgun in wide arcs to inspect every corner as he descended. He waved to the rest and they hurried down the steps. Pete and Lisa fell behind, struggling to wrestle Sheila down the stairs. They reassembled at the bottom and moved as a group to the utility stairs which led to the upstairs offices. Nate closed the twisted door behind them and caught up with the group at the foot of the stairs.
 

“We’re going to need a hand if we’re taking Sheila out of here,” he said.

“Is she?” Brad asked.

“Yes,” Pete said. “She died back around the moose.”

“Leave her?” Brad asked.

“How can we leave her?” asked Lisa. “One of those things will eat her.” Lisa shifted Sheila’s weight on her shoulder and winced with the effort. She didn’t look like she could carry Sheila another three feet, let alone up three flights of stairs.

“Trade with me," Romie said. She held out the crossbow.

Lisa took it, but said, “I’m a lousy shot.”

“I’ll take it," Christine said. “I’m a great shot. Here, you take these.”

Christine gave the bag of shotgun shells to Lisa and took the crossbow.

“Okay?” asked Nate. “All settled? Can we get moving now?”

“Come on," Romie said. She pulled aggressively towards the stairs. Pete struggled to keep up. When they reached the top floor, Pete was panting, but Romie was still strong.
 

“Put her down for a second," Romie said.

Pete rolled his shoulders back and twisted his neck to find relief for his stiff muscles.

The group moved away from the stairs and gravitated to the broken window where they’d entered. Only a faint glow from the cloudy evening came in through the window, but it was still more attractive than the absolute darkness of the snowbound lower floors. Nate closed the door to the stairs and then got Brynn to help pull a desk in front of it.
 

“What now?” asked Lisa.

“I say we fire those tractors back up and head north right away. We can sleep when we’re dead,” Pete said. He blushed and realized his poor choice of words when he glanced down at Sheila’s lifeless form on the floor.

“Pete’s right,” Nate said. “Let’s put some distance between us and this place. We’re short a couple of drivers, but I can set up Brynn to drive one.”

“We’re not short,” Pete said. “We’ve got Brad now.”

“That’s right," Lisa said.

“I can drive,” Christine said.

“Perfect,” Nate said. “Brynn, you’re off the hook.”

“Can we find our way in the dark?” asked Lisa.

“Those tractors are rigged with twenty amps of lights per circuit. You could cook a hotdog with those lights,” Pete said.

While the others talked, Robby knelt down and pulled Sheila’s jacket off so he could drape it over her face. When he stood back up, all eyes turned to him.

“What do you think, Robby?” Pete asked.

“North,” Robby said.

Chapter 16: North

P
ETE
WAS
RIGHT
ABOUT
the lights on the tractor—they were almost too bright. As Robby watched the back of the big sled in front of him, the glare reflected off the snowmobile strapped there and the metal frame felt like it would burn his eyes. But every time he blinked he saw Ted’s slack face pressed against the bathroom floor, or Sheila’s tortured mouth as she tried to pull air into lungs which wouldn’t fill. Robby had seen plenty of dead bodies in the past five months, more than most people would see in ten lifetimes, but he’d only seen a couple die directly from his decisions.

The Bombardier tractor was easier to drive than a car. It used a joystick for speed and steering, and Pete was able to coach Christine in its operation over the radios. Robby turned down the volume on his handset as the rest of the group chattered back and forth. He figured they needed to talk to stay awake, but Robby had a co-pilot. He and Brynn took turns steering and napping; neither needed companionship to stay focused.

The miles ticked by slowly according to the odometer on the panel. The tractors pulled the heavy sleds steadily, but not rapidly. Robby held his radio in his left hand and steered with his right. After midnight, the chatter on the radio faded. The group checked in every five minutes. Starting from the front of the convoy, they announced their names in order to make sure everyone was still alert.
 

“Pete here.”

“Christine.”

“This is Lisa.” Robby thought she sounded the most tired. She slurred through her name.

“Romie here.”

“Nate.”

“Robby and Brynn,” Robby said. He kept his voice low to not wake Brynn.

“Brad in back.”

Early on, they talked about taking turns with who would lead the line of tractors, but Pete stayed up front. Robby thought it must be lonely, looking out at unbroken, endless snow and blazing the path north. Robby’s GPS worked most of the time. Sometimes the display would simply flash a satellite symbol, as if its view of the sky was blocked. Robby wondered how Pete stayed on course during those outages.

Pete led the line of tractors over a narrow bridge. Robby focused on the sled in front of him. On either side, the snow fell away fast and he saw only darkness. Robby jumped when Brad’s voice came on the radio.

“This is where I nearly went over the side. If anyone sees anything weird, jump on the radio,” Brad said. The group remained quiet.

Just north of a bridge, Pete’s voice came over the radio. “Should we veer off the highway and follow Brad’s tracks?”

“Nope,” Brad said. “I wandered for miles. The highway gets even closer to my house. Keep following your GPS, if you can.”

As they continued, Robby saw Brad’s snowmobile tracks veer off to the right. He wondered why the months hadn’t erased them. Flurries started about then, and Pete reassured the group that their tractors could operate in a blizzard if required. Fortunately, the snow stopped and they didn’t have to test Pete’s assertion.

“Everyone look good on fuel, oil pressure, and engine temp?” Pete asked on the radio.

“This is Christine—looks good here.”

“Lisa. All good.”

“Romie here. Looking fine.”

“Nate—good.”

“Everything’s fine,” Robby said. “Sorry. Everything’s fine with Robby and Brynn.”

“Brad. Looks fine.”

Robby looked up at Nate’s sled in front of him. Beyond the snowmobile, the bodies were lashed to the sled in a high stack. They were laid with their feet towards the front, and heads near the back. Before applying the straps over the whole pile, Pete and Nate had laid down green tarps. The tarps made it easier for the straps to slide over the pile without binding while they tightened. Robby saw the heads of the corpses, lined up like multicolored matchsticks. Near the top, something flopped with the jostling of the sled. It was the arm of one of the bodies.

They’d lined up all the corpses with their arms at their sides, but this one flopped out and now it bounced up and down with the motion of the sled. The straps were tight, but not tight enough to hold all the arms in place, apparently. Robby tried to imagine how the slight sway of the sled on the churned snow could make this arm flop out. He turned and looked back at the sled full of corpses his tractor pulled. He saw an orderly stack of shoes and bare feet. Nothing seemed unusual.
 

Robby jumped when Brynn spoke.

“Do you want me to drive now?” Brynn asked, suddenly awake.

“No, I’m okay,” Robby said. “You haven’t been asleep long. You can sleep longer if you want.”

“That’s okay," Brynn said. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere near Kingston,” Robby said.

“Are we close to where we’re going?”

“Maybe.”

Robby casually glanced up at the floppy corpse arm in the sled ahead of them. It still bounced.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” Robby asked. On his last break, Robby stood on to the wide running board of the tractor and peed onto the rolling tracks. Brynn hadn’t gone since they’d started moving again.

“Can I tell you something?” Brynn asked.

“Sure,” Robby said.

“I’m not related to Nate," Brynn said.

“I know,” Robby said.

Brynn looked at him and then back forward.

“You did not," Brynn said.

“Not for sure,” Robby said, “but I figured.”

“Why do you always have to try to figure everything out? You’re not always so smart. I saw you crying in the bathroom.”

Robby nodded and lowered his head.
 

“Yeah,” Robby said.

“So why do you do it? Why don’t you just let things be?” asked Brynn.

“Is your name really Brynn?” Robby asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is anyone from your family still alive?” Robby asked.

“Yes. My granddaddy.”

“Why didn’t you stay with him?”

“You wouldn’t understand," Brynn said. He looked down at his hands and rubbed them together in his lap.

Robby snuck another look at the flopping arm. Now it swung from side to side.

The radio crackled to life.

“This is Pete. How’s everyone doing?”

“Christine here. My hand is hurting a lot. I looked through this bag—are there any painkillers in here?”

“Christine, this is Romie. Look in the compartment on the passenger’s side.”

“Thanks," Christine said.

“This is Lisa. Take the one with caffeine. The other one will make you sleepy.”

“Nate here.”

“Robby and Brynn.”

“Brad in back.”

On the panel in front of Robby, the satellite icon on the GPS began to flash. For the moment, the blue arrow hovered over the highway, but soon it would blink out and be replaced with an orange question mark. A few minutes after that, Robby knew the entire map would be replaced with the flashing satellite symbol. He wondered how long GPS would remain accurate. The satellites might remain in orbit, but he was pretty sure they relied on updates from ground stations to keep them useful.

The farther north they traveled, the less important it seemed that they stick to the highway. Robby suspected that somewhere beneath the snow, the landscape was being transformed to facilitate the growth of the new organism now inhabiting Earth. But the snow was deeper. Robby compared the elevation reported by the GPS to the paper map on his lap and the difference was at one-hundred feet and growing. The contours of the landscape—frozen rivers and bridges, houses and trees—everything was buried so far beneath the snow that it didn’t affect their tractors and sleds. Soon they might be able to ignore the GPS completely and use their compass heading alone.
 

The satellite icon jumped back to the corner of the display and the blue arrow appeared again. GPS lock returned. Robby reached behind the seat and pulled out another warm, sugar-filled soda. He knew the effect wouldn’t last forever. When they were younger, he and Jim used to drink a lot of sodas on Saturday nights. They tried for weeks to stay up all night, but they never made it past four in the morning. Eventually no matter how much sugar and caffeine they drank, sleep would overtake them and they’d pass out in front of the television. At some point during the night it always felt like the soda was doing more harm than good. Each sip would wake him up a tiny bit but then hasten the inevitable crash. Robby hoped the little catnaps he’d stolen while Brynn drove were enough to stave off sleep during this trip.