Oasis (The Last Humans Book 1) (11 page)

“
W
hat did
you make me do?” I think at Phoe in horror. “What did you make me do?” I repeat out loud, my words coming out in a whimper.

Liam blinks at me. “
I
made you do?”

“I’m not talking to you,” I tell him, fully cognizant of how mad this makes me seem. “I did this because Phoe—I mean, Instructor Filomena—asked me to.”

He gapes at me. “Instructor Filomena?” A bead of sweat drips from his eyebrow, and he mutters, “Weren’t we
just
in the car with her? Why do I have trouble remembering that?” He looks the most scared I’ve seen him. The idea of forgetting something seems to frighten him more than the Armageddon we just unleashed. “How did I get here?” He looks around in confusion. “Am I dreaming?”

I don’t reply. My eyes are glued to the Screen.

The Goo has moved through the bushes that surround the Institute and is approaching the Campus.

“I’m sorry, Theo.” Phoe sounds genuinely sad. “This was the only way to stop this mockery… this excuse of a society.”

Her words snap me out of my dazed horror. “What the hell are you talking about?” I scream. “You just used me to kill everyone.”

Liam looks at me, his face contorted in confusion.

“Not you, Liam,” I say in a calmer tone. “This isn’t your fault, not at all.”

Liam backs away from me.

“You wouldn’t understand, even if I tried explaining it to you,” Phoe says. “They had it coming, the Elderly. This was our only way to freedom…”

I don’t listen to the rest of her monologue; she’s making as much sense as a movie villain. Coming out of my shock, I frantically prod at the Screen. “There has to be a way to stop this,” I mutter. “Come on, there has to be a way.”

Liam backs up some more, does a one-eighty, and leaps up the stairs.

I don’t call out to him. I continue pressing at the Screen, my desperation growing.

After about a minute, I realize my actions are futile. There’s no way to undo this.

“I suggest you run up the way Liam did,” Phoe says at the end of her crazy ‘explanation.’ “You might buy yourself a few precious minutes.”

I take one last look at the Screen.

The Goo seems to be moving faster, the green that was Oasis quickly becoming the same revolting orange-brown mess as the outside world.

I run for the metal stairs, my leg muscles burning as I take the steps two at a time. I’m trying to catch up with Liam, but to a larger degree, I’m attempting to outrun my inevitable doom.

As I climb, all kinds of thoughts race through my head. Regrets. Ideas. I wish I had watched more movies, read more books, spent more time with my friends.

Ancient books often talk about seeing your life flash before your eyes in near-death situations. In my case, I’m just remembering certain scenes, starting with my earliest memory. None of them are from my time at the Nursery; intellectually, I know there was a period when I was a baby and the Elderly took care of me, but I can’t recall it. My first memory is of being embarrassed on my first day of Lectures. I asked a ‘why’ question for what I assume was the millionth time, and that, in combination with my full name of Theodore, got me the nickname of ‘Why-Odor.’ After this, I remember more positive moments from childhood, like the first time I met Liam, even though we actually got into a fight that day. Also, my first—

Spotting the real-life Liam brings me out of my recollections. He’s standing with his back to me, seemingly mesmerized by the view beyond the window.

I cover the remaining three steps in one jump and stop next to him to look out the same window.

Instantly, I wish I hadn’t looked. I can now see the Goo with my naked eye.

It’s midway through the village below.

Until now, a part of my mind thought that perhaps the Goo attack on the Screen was some kind of cruel joke, a lesson designed to teach us not to disobey—anything other than this horrible reality.

When I tear my eyes away from the nightmare below, I see that Liam is staring at me gravely, as if he’s about to say something.

“Liam,” I begin, but he takes off and starts running up the stairs again.

My lungs straining, I run after him. I have no idea what we’re going to do once we reach the top—which, judging by the continually narrowing staircase, will be soon.

Instead of obsessing about it, I keep running. When I run, the world kind of disappears. Thoughts of the past visit me again. I wonder if on some level these memories are a defense mechanism my mind made up to cope with the panic and horror that will accompany my last moments. The fact that the rest of the human race will die alongside me makes the idea of death even more incomprehensible. It’s like trying to understand what might have existed before there was a universe.

This time I’m brought out of my dark reverie by a terrible mental shriek that I barely recognize as Phoe’s voice.

“It burns,” she screams. “Oh, Theo, it burns…” She makes a gurgling noise that sounds like, “I’m sorry.”

Then there’s silence.

Sick to my stomach, I stop in front of one of the staircase windows and look down.

The place where I last saw Phoe and the Guards is now covered with Goo.

She’s finally dead. Really dead.

Despite her horrible treachery, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss. Pushing it away, I focus on the physical pain of the muscle fibers in my legs tearing from the strain of my rapid climb.

The ascent lasts for ages before I get a whiff of Liam’s body odor. It’s such a little thing, but the knowledge that my always-brave friend is sweating enough to stink makes my chest constrict and my eyes prickle. I recall this feeling; it usually precedes crying—something I haven’t done since I was little. Youths have no reason to cry as they grow older.

Instead of giving in to this weakness, I follow Liam’s rapidly climbing figure.

On the next landing, he stops and turns to face me.

I’m about to say something—anything—to him, but the words never leave my throat because suddenly, the tower shudders and tilts with a metallic groan.

My foot misses the last step, and then my arms are windmilling as I fall in speechless terror.

The tower seems to be rotating around me.

There’s a moment of weightlessness, followed by an explosion of nauseating pain as my left shoulder smacks into something hard.

Gasping, I grab at it with my uninjured arm, and my fingers close around a handrail as the rest of my body meets the staircase with a bone-jarring slam. I continue to slide down for a few seconds before I jerk to a stop, my wrist screaming in agony.

With some still-functional portion of my mind, I realize the tower must be leaning sideways. The wall is now a sharply angled floor, while the stairs have become the new wall, like something out of an M.C. Escher painting.

The tower emits another groan, tilting even lower. I can now crawl up the wall, and I attempt to do so, despite the agonizing pain in my shoulder and a sickening sense of vertigo. My left shoulder must be dislocated, and the entire left side of my body hurts like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

My stomach heaves, and sweat dampens my clothes as I desperately crawl upward, imitating soldiers from ancient war films. I try not to dwell on the fact that the steps of the staircase make up the right wall. That surreal image strikes at the heart of my panic, and panic is something I’m trying to stave off.

Somewhere above me, I hear a moan and crawl toward the sound.

“Liam?” I yell as I reach the downward-angled platform. “Are you okay?”

“Careful,” Liam hisses back. “Or you’ll join me.”

His voice is so warped by terror it’s almost unrecognizable. I always thought Liam might’ve been born with a genetic defect in his amygdala, making him unable to feel normal fear, but now I see that’s not at all the case.

My heart thudding in my ears, I crawl up to the edge of the topsy-turvy staircase platform.

Liam’s voice is coming from what used to be a window, but is now a hole in the sloped floor.

On the window’s edge, I spot fingers, their knuckles white from exertion.

“Liam!” I slither on my belly toward the hand and look down.

My friend is hanging out of the window, his legs dangling in the air. Blood is running down his arm. Below him is an enormous drop that ends in a putrid orange-brown mess. The Goo is consuming the base of the tower.

Fighting lightheadedness at the sight of the far drop, I grab Liam’s forearm with my uninjured right hand.

“Liam, I’ve got you. Now climb up.” I note a tiny spark of relief in his fear-glazed eyes, so I add, “Seriously, get back in. Stop messing around.”

The strain and horror on his face eases slightly. “Nah, I’m just hanging, you know.”

I grimace at his joke. “Grab onto my arm with your left hand and climb up. It should be easier than grabbing the window’s edge.” I style my stern tone after that of an Adult.

Liam reaches up, but his flailing hand misses my arm by an inch.

The tower shudders again.

“Come on, Liam!”

He reaches up, his face scrunching from the effort, and this time, his fingers connect with my arm.

“That’s it.” I tighten my grip on his forearm, my fingers slippery from sweat. “Come on!”

He tries to lift himself up, but his grip on the window doesn’t give him much leverage.

“Pull me up, Theo,” he gasps. He lets go of the window to latch on to my arm with his right hand. The strain on my right shoulder is enormous as his full weight dangles off my arm.

Forgetting about my injury, I reach down with my left hand to assist him.

The resulting agony makes me stop and hiss in pain. The dislocated shoulder doesn’t allow for that range of motion.

Seeing this, Liam grabs higher up my arm, using it as a rope. I inch backward to drag him in.

The strategy looks like it’s working—for a heartbeat, at least.

Then Liam’s fingers slip on my sweaty skin, his palms sliding down my arm uncontrollably.

“Liam!”

I make a desperate grabbing motion and catch his right hand just as his grip slips off completely.

He’s now hanging by the tips of his fingers off my right hand, and I feel his grip slipping with every second.

As if realizing the futility of his efforts, Liam looks up, his gaze growing oddly distant as he stares up at something. “You have to reach the top, Theo. You must.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I say urgently. “Come on, climb back up.”

With my bad left arm, I make a monumental effort to reach down, ignoring the crippling pain. Liam’s fingers slip out of my grasp, but he twists his body and grabs my left wrist just as I reach for him. There’s a loud crack in my left shoulder, followed by a white-hot flash of excruciating pain.

An unbidden scream escapes my mouth.

I think I’m about to black out from the pain when I hear Liam say, “I’m going to let go.”

At least that’s what I think he said.

Through the pulsating haze of agony, I hear him say, “You have to get to the top of this thing.”

The darkness at the edges of my vision closes in, dimming all my senses. Fighting it, I clench my teeth and try pulling Liam up with all my remaining strength, but he’s not even trying to help me. His eyes are wide as he keeps staring up past me.

I try to follow his gaze. Something important is up there, and I want to know what it is.

Just as I start turning my head, Liam lets go.

“Liam!” I scream, but it’s too late.

He plummets to the ground, and I stare in horror as his body disappears into the writhing mass of Goo.

A pained roar escapes my throat. As though in answer to my anguished cry, the tower creaks again and rotates in violent, jerky movements.

My arms shaking, I grab onto the windowsill with both hands and watch with dazed vertigo as the window faces first the horizon and then the sky.

Now I’m the one who’s hanging out of the window, only my feet are not dangling over a long drop. After the tower did its spinning maneuver, the window that was on ‘the floor’ ended up on ‘the ceiling.’

Dimly, I register that my left side hurts a little less. Did Liam pop my shoulder back into place when he grabbed it? If so, it saved my life.

Glancing down, I see that the other wall of the tower is under my feet. If I let go of the windowsill, I probably wouldn’t hurt myself too badly. I consider doing exactly that but see that a streak of Goo is running up the wooden handrail. I’ll be running the chance of touching it if I jump down. The fact that the Goo is already here, right below me, sucks what little hope I had left.

How is it on the handrail?
I wonder with strangely academic interest. I guess the Goo must find it easier to eat away softer substances, such as wood, than the heavy-duty steel that the rest of the tower is made out of. I don’t have any illusions, though: the Goo can eat through anything.

We have a desolate ocean of the stuff to prove it.

Still, I can’t hang like this for long. My left shoulder, though somewhat better, is still in agony. Gritting my teeth, I use the last remaining bit of my strength to pull myself up. Once my head is sticking out the window, I lever the rest of my body up and try to stand on what used to be the outside wall of the tower.

My head spins. The wall of the tower is tilted at about a forty-five-degree angle, sloping toward the sea of Goo that is the ground. It’s probably a matter of moments before the Goo eats through the tower’s base, toppling the entire structure into its abyss.

The knowledge of impending death sharpens my senses. The tiniest details of my environment jump out at me. I notice how the sky looks a bit bluer without the Dome, and how strange it is that the tower looks weather-beaten, given that in Oasis, there’s no erosive weather to cause this sort of damage. Then another detail catches my attention: a light where the tower’s peak would be.

I recall Liam staring that way in his last moments.

What is that light, if that’s indeed what I’m seeing?

I carefully run on what used to be the tower’s wall. It’s not a solid surface, but a patchwork of metal beams and some surviving glass windows.