Intended Extinction (14 page)

But we weren’t so lucky with the other one.

A barrage of bullets pelted our car. I gulped in some air before starting the car again. It sputtered for a few seconds, but then came to a steady hum.

“Keep your heads down!” I yelled. I flung the shifter into reverse and dropped my foot onto the gas pedal.

We squealed through the gap again, pushing the totaled motorcycled. It scraped and eventually slid off to the side. I couldn’t see anything behind us, making sure to keep my head down as more bullets tried to penetrate our bodies.

I yanked the wheel and we spun a whole 180 degrees, knocking his bike over. The hailfire stopped as he jumped out of the way, and we took off, leaving him in a trail of gravelly dust.

My white knuckles gripped the steering wheel. I looked at Tara, seeing her shaking body, pressed into the seat as if she were molding to the leather. My eyes darted to the rear view mirror, seeing Justin looking out the window.

“Is he coming?” Tara stuttered.

Justin answered, “Nope! That sucka’s gone!”

I downshifted as we made the turn back onto Whitehall, this time bound for Ellis Island.

Battery Park had drastically changed since Edge. When the idea of Sterile Communities started to become a reality, Ellis Island was named a viable option. Battery Park was reconfigured for the new bridge that would link Ellis Island to Manhattan. The Ellis Bridge.

The Ellis Bridge was a “temporary” causeway that tried to help as many people get to safety before the virus infected the whole city. It wasn’t fancy or fun to look at, but simply a fast way to corral as many people as possible. GenoTec developed the whole project, from the bridge, to the skyscrapers and underground bunkers on the Island itself. The housing units eventually became the homes of nearly 15,000 people.

We made a sharp turn onto a secondary park road, clear of people. GenoTec’s massive podium and Vax event minutia were still visible only a few yards to our right. We came to the traffic circle near the harbor and cut through the opposite direction. I slowed down and stopped at the entrance to the old bridge.

As the engine idled, we gazed out into the Hudson River, out to the Island. Everything seemed to be drenched in a bluish haze, overshadowed by thick, puffy gray clouds. Our windows were shattered, letting us hear the crisp breeze flowing through the park behind us.

“How are we going to do this?” asked Tara, slowly recuperating.

“Do what?” I answered, not really paying attention, lost in some sort of daydream.

“The Sterile Community,” she began, leaning her head into view. “Mark, hello?” She positioned herself so that her whole body was facing me.

“Sorry!” I quickly sprang back into action. “I’m sorry.”

“What does this person want us to do? We can’t exactly waltz inside.”

A whizzing noise flew by my nose and Tara yelped in agony.

Crimson sprayed the passenger door as Tara clutched the right side of her abdomen. She screamed in torture, electrocuting every muscle in my body. The dark blood seeped from behind her fingers, and she writhed against her seat.

“
Tara!
”

Another bullet pierced the dashboard and the adrenaline kicked in. I rammed the gearshift back to first and floored it. We tore across the final part of the harbor and cleared the bridge’s entrance, bouncing like a buoy.

A few more erratic shots pelted the car, but we were already a quarter of the way across the bridge. I glanced at Tara almost every second, cursing madly in my mind.

The bridge wobbled a little, causing me to constantly correct our course. I tried to figure out how we were going to get inside, or do whatever this mystery person asked of us. He
had
to have stuff to help Tara. If that meant breaking inside of the Community, so be it.

Justin had unlatched himself from the backseat, trying to comfort Tara, which was extremely weird, coming from him. He had one hand wrapped around her upper arm, and the other holding fast to her headrest.

The Island was approaching rapidly, but I started to notice that something was off.

The Fabric Shield. Where was the freaking fabric shield?

Each Sterile Community was equipped with an egg shaped rotunda, crafted out of a dense, lead based material. They called it the Fabric Shield. It was flexible, supported from the inside by a skeleton of impervious columns. It was what separated us from the Sterile’s.

Usually, you couldn’t see the Fabric Shield from the harbor. The Shield’s exterior was made of reflective panels, creating the illusion of invisibility. Up close, it could be distinguished by a pinkish hue—at least from what I had seen on the Fuse; if any of the infected came within ten feet, we’d probably have been shot.

But as we approached, there was nothing but humongous, castle-like walls surrounding the Island.

“Where’s the damn Shield?” I said.

Tara gasped and clenched her jaw in pain. As time passed, her convulsions became less frequent and her breathing slowed. Her consciousness was slipping.

“What?” asked Justin.

“Look at the walls!” I said, a frantic horror slowly entangling me.

Draped across parts of the retaining wall were flaps of pinkish material. Like pieces of cloth they hung at all lengths, some dropping below the water’s edge. It was indeed the Fabric Shield, rent and flaccid.

When we flew across the remaining length of the bridge, an enormous, arched opening welcomed us. It started wide, but as we approached the gate, it angled inward like a funnel.

The fifty-foot barriers brought more than just shade to the bottleneck.

“This place got
messed up!
” shouted Justin.

My astonishment made me stop the car altogether. Before us, the impenetrable gate had been blown away, leaving only bits of shrapnel everywhere. The threshold was lined with smashed piles of concrete. The Community inside looked charred and obliterated.

It was open. The damn Sterile Community was open. No longer was Edge kept at bay.

We gawked at the entrance, silent except for the occasional whimper from Tara. I didn’t know what to do next. How could I let this happen? Tara was going to
die
because of me! I started to enter the dark reaches of my mind, falling into despair. At every turn, there was something new. I couldn’t do this any longer.

“Uh oh! Homeboy’s back!” shouted Justin, peering out of the rear window.

I shot my eyes up to the mirror and saw the black motorcycle approaching fast. The metal-head’s visor glinted in the sun as he cleared the threshold.

“M-Mark?” croaked Tara. “Don’t give up. Don’t . . . “

She winced and stifled a cry of agony.

Justin’s shouts were deafened by my clouded, rage-filled mind. I pressed my forehead against my clenched fists, propped upon the steering wheel. Bullets clobbered the car. The heat of my anger escaped through my fingertips.

I looked up, trying to figure a way around the piles of rubble. In between a giant mound and the wall of the gate, there was a small opening. That had to be it.

“
Okay!
” I yelled, with the intensity of an atom bomb. I punched the gearshift into place, drove the clutch to the floor, and engaged the vehicle once more.

The sedan peeled out and tore across the final stretch of pavement before smashing through a portion of debris. Pieces of concrete and rebar smashed the windshield and flew in every direction. In the chaos, dust blinding me, and I lost control of the wheel. I felt the car jerk to the right and the last thing I saw was a blurry pile of gray and black.

My leg
twitched. A shell of warmth encased my whole body. Thick blankets weighed me down. I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet. I wanted to try and figure out what had happened. The last thing I remembered was feeling the force of a sledgehammer strike my chest.

The car! Tara!
Everything zipped back into place. Was I dead? After everything that had happened, was this the conclusion? I decided to see for myself and unfastened my eyes.

I was in a small, bland room. Two nightstands were placed on either side of me as I lay nestled in a plush, queen sized bed. The end tables supported identical, vintage lamps with shades that drowned the entire room in a dim, orange haze. The only other thing in the room was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, storing only a few strays. In the left corner was a single door, tarnished in the same fashion as the room’s dilapidated interior.

I laid still in the comfort of the mysterious bed, pondering where I could be. There were no sounds, no movement. I began to wonder if this is what Heaven was like. No, it had to be Hell.

If we died in that crash, maybe I could find Tara, or Justin. But they wouldn’t have come to Hell, would they? Justin, probably. I felt so normal, though. Could we really have survived?

I slid my legs out of the covers and positioned myself on the edge of the cream colored spread. The lavish linen between my fingers brought me back to pre-Edge days. I twisted the fibers, trying to convince myself that this was real.

I still had my jeans on—thankfully—and my shirt and jacket were folded neatly at the end of the bed. My sneakers had been removed and placed on the odd parquet floor. Blood began to flow into my body again, pouring through the veins in my legs.

I started coughing. I seized for at least ten seconds, trying to catch my breath. When the coughs finally ceased, I touched my chapped lips and lifted a bloodied finger.

Yep. This was real.

I clamped my eyes shut, suddenly being overcome with an inside-out feeling. My bones echoed, my muscles stung. A sharp chill vibrated throughout my skeleton, making me shiver and crave the warmth of the blankets.

I waited for a moment, letting the sickening feeling run its course.

After dressing, I sat at the edge of the bed, lacing my shoes. As I finished the second sneaker, the door to my left squeaked open, making me jump and nearly fall off the bed. I stood stiff as a board, readying myself for an attack, when a man emerged from the outside.

The floor creaked beneath his feet. He wore some kind of stealth suit. It looked like spandex, conforming to every curve and muscle in his body, yet carried a certain weight. The outfit was as dark as a blackberry, with crimson accents, symmetrically placed on his chest, arms, and legs. His boots were sock-like, and his gloves were open-fingered. My first thought pinned him as metal-head, but he wasn’t wearing a helmet.

A chin cut out of stone, and short, sweat-lined brown hair rimmed his head. He had five o’ clock shadow and charming hazel eyes. He was box-headed and worn, looking at least ten or fifteen years older than me. Regardless of his age, he was extremely built.

“I see you’re up,” he said in a gruff, low voice. He approached me a little bit, but I backed up, priming myself. Maybe this really
was
Hell. That, or I was just delusional.

He held a reassuring hand out and said, “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything, just calm down. How’re you feeling?”

I stared at the strange man for a moment, trying to piece together some sort of coherent phrase.

“Where am I?” I managed to say.

“You’re alive, if that helps.”

I narrowed my eyes. Well, I guess that ruled out Hell.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “My name is Bollis. I’m a friend.”

I think I was losing my mind. Bollis? What kind of name was that?

“Listen,” he began, “we don’t exactly have all the time in the world to play the trust game. I can explain everything, but right now I need your help with Tara.”

A whoosh of emotions coursed through my system.

“Tara?” I asked, “Where is she? Is she all right?”

“If you help me, she’ll live. But I need you
now
.”

The VisoNote. The man standing in front of me
had
to be the one who saved our lives. He hadn’t killed me, he wasn’t wearing the same get-up as the metal-heads, and he was showing his face.

“You’re him,” I said faintly.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“You’re the one who left the Note. You saved us.”

Bollis remained silent. His countenance was statue-like. The trusting aura surrounding him began to attract me into a whirlpool.

“Like I said,” he reiterated, “I can tell you everything, but right now, you need to come with me.”

I hesitated, but only for a slight moment. As soon as I nodded my head, Bollis led me out of the room and into a long, dimly lit corridor. Little pouches attached to him clapped against his odd suit. There were many spaced throughout his lower back, upper thighs, and below his ribs.

I had to refrain from asking questions as they were practically jumping from me. Where the hell were we? What had happened after the crash? Most of all, why was all of this happening to us?

I followed Bollis as he pushed open the next door, bringing us to a much larger commons area. It was at least twenty yards in length and width, with a multi-leveled ceiling. The wooden floors sported cracks and divots, and the walls were old and peeling. At the end of the room, three-fourths above the wall, a giant window cast an eerie, stencil of moonlight across the floor. Below the window, a garage door padlocked in two places, spanned the entire back wall.

As we moved left, toward the front of the room, I was introduced to a massive fireplace, crackling away and shedding its warm glow. Facing the brick hearth were two dusty couches, placed to absorb as much heat as possible. Nestled on each couch were the only two people I cared about, Justin and Tara. Well, I cared that Justin was alive, I guess.

I rushed around Tara’s couch and knelt beside her sleeping body. Her face looked angelic, lit from the golden licks of the fire. Her shirt was rolled up, revealing her stomach and a bandaged wound, stained with dark blood. Despite her condition, she looked peaceful. Justin was sprawled out on the other sofa, openmouthed, with a trail of drool seeping into the worn fabric.

Bollis stood in between the two couches and observed me impatiently.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, standing to his level.

“I’ve slowed it down, but I can’t stop the bleeding. I’m no doctor, but the bullet must have hit something important. At least it went completely through.”

“What are we supposed to do?!”

“I just need you to stay with her. If she wakes up . . . well, just hope she doesn’t wake up.”

He shouldered a small bag, getting ready to leave.

“Wait!” I said. “Where are you going?”

“To get something that can fix this. I won’t be gone long.” He moved away from the couches and approached a door to the left of the fireplace. Before he exited, he said, “Stay with her, Mark.”

I watched in horror as Bollis left. Just as soon as he had come into my life, he was gone. I looked back to Tara, feeling the fear inside of me deepen. I moved quietly over to her delicate body and knelt again, careful to not wake her.

I closed my eyes, feeling grief overwhelm me. Tears were starting to form—a rare event. How could I have let this happen? How could I let Tara suffer like this? I shouldn’t have stopped the car before the bridge. How could I have been so stupid?

For the next hour I mentally writhed in contemplation, constantly observing Tara. When I wasn’t sitting against the edge of her sofa, I was pacing the room. My mind wore me down, like a blender starting to overheat.

I watched Justin move multiple times, quietly fearing his response to all of this. In some ways, I was hoping that no one would wake up, allowing me time to make sure everything was okay. I wanted to fix this. I
had
to fix this.

To try and cool off, I wandered around the giant room. I crept toward the massive window and retractable door. Dust filled every crevice. Floorboards were warped and broken. Except for the couches, there really wasn’t anything else occupying the barren hall.

I approached the metal, corrugated door and crouched to handle the one of the padlocks. Was this some kind of storage warehouse? Why the couches and fireplace? I sat on my haunches for a second, thinking. I turned my head to the left and noticed another door next to a darkened hallway, splitting the length of the wall.

I strode over to the door and gently turned to handle, paying attention to every sound. Inside, the invading light revealed a small kitchen and dining area, covering in more dust and cobwebs. Confused, I turned my attention to the hallway to my right.

It was like looking into a never-ending hole. The darkness made me weary, and the thought of leaving Tara, even for a moment, kept me from discovering more. I turned and walked back to the couches with more questions.

Just as I planted my butt onto the fireplace’s edge, Tara stirred. I jumped up and nervously approached her. I was helpless to keep her asleep.

She started groaning. After a minute of stressed breathing and jerking, her eyes shot open and she clutched her wound, letting a raspy whimper escape her dry mouth. She attempted to sit up, not necessarily knowing what she was doing, and fell back onto the couch, moaning.

“Tara!” I whispered. “Hey, I’m here. It’s me, Mark.” I grasped her hand and tried to comfort her.

Her head slowly turned to mine and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“M-Mark . . .”

“Don’t worry,” I assured, “Bollis is going to fix this, he’s gonna be here soon.”

“Bollis?”

“Don’t think, just rest. Everything’s going to be all right. We’re safe now.”

She winced, lifting her head in a spasm of pain.

I couldn’t take it. I was nearing the brink of an emotional explosion. I did that to her. That wound was my fault.

The door behind us swung open and Bollis strode over, toting his black bag. He was sweating, and his breath was short.

“Give me some room,” he commanded.

I stood as Bollis set his pack down and began to work on Tara’s wound.

“Where were you? And what did you get?”

“Please,” he said, annoyed, “just let me do this.”

I watched as he impaled her leg with a sedative, and she slowly drifted back to sleep. He peeled off her abdomen bandage, revealing a hole the size of a nickel. Blood immediately started to seep out of the opening. In a swift motion, he grabbed five white bandages, a little smaller than strips of bacon. He began to stuff one of the bandages into the wound. I stood in disgust as he pushed two more into Tara’s stomach.

Despite my reticence, the bleeding completely stopped. As the strips absorbed the blood, it bonded with the tissues and started to form a crusty film over the wound.

“What
are
those?” I asked.

“They’re called Mend Lashes,” said Bollis, turning Tara on her side and doing the same work to her exit wound. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

“All right,” I said, kneeling next to him. “I’ve waited long enough. What the hell is going on?”

He finished bandaging her up and sighed. The flickering light of the fire was amplified in his eyes, making my skin turn to bark.

“Okay,” he said. “Let me finish and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

A few minutes passed as he gathered his things, rolled Tara’s shirt over her new bandages and stashed his bag behind one of the couches. He finally looked up at me, folding his arms.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, Mark.”

“I think I’m getting used to that.”

His face didn’t change, staring at me with thoughtful eyes. After a few seconds, he strode over to the fireplace and sat on the bench-like outcrop. I stood still, waiting with a magma filled core. The fire continued to crackle and Bollis exhaled once again.

“Before I can tell you anything, you have to understand something.”

I furrowed my brow.

He scoffed. “Mark, you know as well as I do who’s responsible for this.”

“What?” I said. His comment caught me off guard. It pierced my heart with a poisonous arrow. The toxin started to flow throughout my body.

“You’ve probably known for a while now. But you’re too scared to accept it. You’re afraid to accept the truth.”

“And how would you know anything about me?” I retaliated. Regardless of my show, I knew exactly what he was talking about. The Collectors had made sure of that.

“You can try to escape it one way or another, but it doesn’t stop the truth from being the truth. Before we can continue our little chat,
you
have to be the one who finds the answer.”

I remained in a wash of silence. The gears inside my skull began to turn once again, and I found myself staring at one of the deepest holes imaginable. The abyss loomed before me like open jaws, ready to devour. The double-bolted door in my mind burst open. My suspicions were being realized. And I was drowning within them.