Which was a terrible problem because she had never been more afraid to die.
The world couldn’t be a film. Or a dream. It didn’t seem possible that Blaise’s death had been artificial. It had to be real. Which meant she was going to die. Death was the only true reality.
“Is it done?” said Floyd.
“It’s done,” answered Seth.
“Good. I’ll send men over to get the body.”
Skylar heard crunching grass and then Seth was standing over her.
“I told you to follow the others,” he said coldly. “I’m not sure why you wanted to see something like this.”
A little while later, after harsh, whispering negotiation between Natalie and Seth, the seven of them and Floyd climbed into the bed of the pickup. The other men rode up front with Blaise, whose body had been cruelly folded into the passenger seat. A shirt had been wrapped around his head and was dark with blood.
“We ain’t bad men,” said Floyd, casting an eye at the twins. “It’s not like we go after innocent people. But if someone is going to check out anyway, I don’t see the harm.”
“You’re right,” said Seth. He sounded to Skylar like he was reciting someone else’s dialogue. “If they’re checked out already, what’s the harm?”
Skylar stared at the smoky sunset and swallowed her nausea. To distract herself from reality she conjured the echoing choir of Fordlandia,another Jóhannsson orchestral masterpiece, meant to evoke Henry Ford’s failed experiment to create a modern, capitalistic Utopia in the Amazonian jungle of Brazil. Jóhannsson’s intent (she’d read on his Web site) had been to juxtapose the human hunger for technological progress with the magnificence of nature reclaiming itself. It seemed to Skylar that the rise and fall of Fordlândia was analogous to what was happening now, as modern society was quietly but violently shut down by the pulse. She wondered why humans continued to believe they could bend the world to their will when the opposite had always proven true. She wondered how she could have ever deluded herself into believing life was a film.
Floyd went on to explain, in coded language, how he and his men had acquired their other victims. He tried to elaborate about the cooking and cleaning process, but his limited vocabulary fell short of the poetry required to conceal the truth from two young boys. Eventually Floyd gave up and allowed them to suffer the remainder of the ride in peace.
When they reached Milrany, Floyd asked Seth where to turn next.
“We’ll just get out here,” Seth said. “I need to figure out how to explain this to Blaise’s mom.”
“Sure,” said Floyd. “But can I ask you one question?”
“Of course.”
“Where you going with all them guns? Because I know you wasn’t bringing them to anyone’s mom.”
Skylar watched as Seth invented an answer. He smiled like a man who’d forgotten he was human.
“We’re going to start our own republic.”
“In that case,” Floyd said. “Maybe we’ll come by later and see how it’s going. ‘Cause maybe we want to start our own as well.”
They climbed out of the pickup truck. Seth, Thomas, and Larry shouldered bags, and the group began walking northward. Fifteen minutes later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they knocked on the door to Tim’s house. Larry recited the words Blaise had given them, and the door opened.
The scene ended.
Just in time for the flame of Skylar’s faith to wink out completely.
THIRTY-SIX
My Diary: Natalie Black
May 20, 202-
Something is wrong with me.
For a while, I thought this ringing sound was my imagination. Then I decided it was a temporary thing induced by stress. Don’t people get that? Tinitus? Is that how you even spell it?
But once we started walking, the ringing got a lot worse. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s exhaustion. All I know is I can’t ignore it any longer. I have to face the reality that I could be sick. And in this new world, there are no hospitals, no doctors to call, no searching for your symptoms on Google. All you can do is wait and hope for the best.
Seth will have to take care of the boys if something happens to me, but what exactly will he do in a world where men like that awful Floyd are willing to eat humans? It hasn’t even been a full week since the pulse. It shouldn’t be like this yet, but it is because there are so many people who have nothing. So many people forced out of their homes by fire or hunger or pure desperation. I realize now Thomas could never have protected his supplies, not indefinitely. There are just too many people. Too many people.
I was afraid Tim wouldn’t let us in, but Blaise’s trick worked after all. Tim is a small man with silvery hair and a spooky smile. He showed us to his living room, where we all collapsed to the floor. He brought us peanuts and beef jerky and water. Normally I would never eat beef jerky, but a girl can’t help it when she’s as hungry as I was.
While we were eating, Seth explained what happened to Blaise, but it turned out Tim already knew about the cancer. It’s part of the reason they wanted to recruit help, in case Blaise couldn’t make it all the way. You can tell Tim is impressed by the way Seth took charge, and especially how he was man enough to give Blaise relief at the end. So far, no one has said anything about Floyd and his cannibal friends. What’s the point?
I’m proud of Seth for rising to the occasion again, like on the day of the pulse, when he took us to buy groceries. But I’m afraid it won’t last. I’ve come to understand there’s something inside that won’t let him stay the course. In times of stress he is as good as they come, but Seth doesn’t know what to do when everything is quiet. He’s partial to noise.
Like this noise in my ears. Sometimes it hurts and sometimes it makes me feel alive. Focused. Like I could run a four-minute mile or solve a complex algebra problem or see the look on someone’s face from ten miles away. I know that sounds crazy, but I don’t know how else to describe it. Or maybe I feel this way because, for the first time in my life, I know who I am.
After we ate, I asked Tim if I could put the boys down somewhere. He showed me to a room with a double bed, and when I checked on them a few minutes later, they were both out cold. Poor things.
Afterward, Tim explained how his group had visited the warehouse three times to scout its defense. Most of the guards, they believe, are out front where the crowd of hungry people is gathered. The back side of the property is surrounded by trees, and yesterday, during a shift change, they realized a sniper was posted on the warehouse roof. I can hardly believe that. It’s like we’re at war over a Walmart. And Tim says our best chance to get into the warehouse is from the back. Which is where the sniper is. Which scares me to death.
It was several hours past dark when someone knocked hard on the door. I had fallen asleep on the couch and nearly jumped out of my skin. It turned out these were Tim’s friends, Billy and Miguel, who had been scouting the warehouse again. They were so nervous and excited they could barely talk. Apparently, while prowling behind the building, they heard someone talking and then a gunshot. A little while later they found bodies, three that had been dead for a while and one guy who had just been shot. They don’t know if it was a fight between the guards or if someone else is also scouting the warehouse.
I’ll tell you what I know. I’m terrified. People are dying. My husband put a man down like a dog, a man Floyd and his friends are probably eating right now. Just awful.