Paul Jones - Exodus

He leaned forward in his chair and looked her straight in the eyes. “I was beginning to think we were the only ones left. Again, I’m sorry for the reception I gave you. It was just such a shock to see the dog…then you.”

“How about Ben and Rhiannon? How did they take it?”

“I’ve done my best to keep the truth from my kids,” Simon said. “Ben is too young to really notice, but Rhiannon, she’s old enough to know that something very serious has happened. But I’ve managed to keep them both distracted.” He took another sip from his whiskey, and Emily realized that he was steeling himself for the answer to the question he was about to ask. “So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on out there?”

Emily recounted her story: how the rain had come from nowhere; the dead birds falling from the sky; the mass panic; and, finally, how everyone in New York, and probably around the world, had died.

Simon sat in shocked silence for a while. Then: “Everyone? They’re all dead?”

“As far as I know, yes. But there’s a group of survivors, scientists, in the Stockton Islands in Alaska. That’s where I’m heading. They think the cold has some kind of effect on the rain, which is why they survived.” Emily went on to explain how she had been contacted by Jacob and why she was traveling north.

It was only when she began to explain how she had witnessed the dead transformed into the spider-aliens and how they had in turn created the strange forests of alien trees that she felt Simon pull back. He was still nodding attentively, but his energy had turned from sympathetic to politely cautious.

“Look,” she said. “I know it sounds insane, and I know that you probably think that I am crazy, but I’m not. You must have noticed the way the weather is changing? I mean, it’s almost permanently red out there now. I think the dust I saw being released from the trees is spreading and changing everything that it touches. You didn’t see the rainstorm yesterday, but if you had, you would have seen how red it was. That’s how it’s spreading. And it’s not just humans that it’s changing—there are new animals out there, too…look.”

She stood and unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse. Simon’s eyes went wide, and he glanced away.

“You can look now,” she said as she slipped the blouse off her shoulder and turned to show Simon the still-healing wounds on her back.

“Jesus! How did that happen?”

She explained how she had been attacked by the creatures in the forest, how she had nearly died and would have if it had not been for Thor showing up and saving her butt. “I know it’s hard to comprehend,” she said as she buttoned her blouse back up, “that this is some kind of alien attack, but I’ve seen them and they’re real. And it’s spreading…fast.”

“But I thought…I thought it was a terrorist attack. You’re telling me there’s nobody left out there?”

She shook her head. “Apart from the group in the Stocktons, no, none that have made contact with us. But look at it this way—they survived, I survived, and you and your children survived. The probability is that there are others out there, too.”

Simon slumped back in the chair and gave her a long appraising stare, then he finished what was left of his whiskey in one swig, refilled his glass, and downed that in one go, too.

“Are you insane?” he whispered eventually. It was a question asked by a man who Emily thought was doing his best to understand what was surely the most ridiculously crazy story he had ever heard. She stood up and walked to where he was standing, staring blankly into the kitchen.

“No,” she said. “I’m not crazy.”

“You have to understand,” he said in the same soft whisper. “It’s all a little too much to take in…in one go. But what am I going to do about the kids?”

Later, after Simon had settled the children into their beds for the night, he joined Emily in the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself,” she said, raising a quarter-full glass of brandy. Simon nodded, picked up a glass, and poured himself a double before sitting down in the chair across from Emily.

“So,” he said after taking a sip, “what do you think our options are?”

Emily considered the question, sipping from her brandy. “I don’t think we have any options other than to get out as fast as we possibly can.”

Simon seemed unconvinced. “You have to see this from my perspective, Emily. My kids and I are safe here. We have enough provisions to last us for a couple of months. That should be more than enough time for any federal rescue to reach us and”—he paused choosing his next words carefully—“I don’t know you. Until today, I’d never even met you. You show up out of nowhere with some crazy story about people turning into alien monsters and constructing giant trees that are churning out this red dust.” He paused as he let the words sink in, more for himself than her benefit, Emily thought. “And now you’re asking me to leave the one place that has kept us safe and follow you to Alaska. I mean, come on, if you were in my position, taking care of two kids, I’m sure you’d be just a little skeptical. Right?”

Emily could, of course, empathize with his position. In just the few short hours she had known this family she had become fond of the kids. They were just adorable, even Rhiannon with her blasé response to almost every situation and her almost continual state of ennui.

“I’m not asking you to follow me,” she said eventually. “I’m asking you to protect yourself and your kids. Of course I understand how crazy it all sounds. I’d be less than convinced if I were in your position, but look at it like this. If you’re right and everything I’ve told you is nothing more than some elaborate, crazy joke, then you have nothing to lose by coming with me.” She let the words sink in for a few seconds. “You have to take the risk, Simon. Please.”

She saw a flicker of anger, possibly fear, cross Simon’s face. “I really don’t appreciate you using my kids as bargaining chips.”

Emily placed her drink down on the table, reached out, and took both of Simon’s hands in her own. “I’m not trying to bargain with you, Simon. Whatever you decide, I’m still leaving tomorrow and heading north again. If I’m right and you stay here…you, Rhiannon, and Ben are all going to die. And you better hope to God that you die first because I would not want you to witness the agony your kids will go through in their final minutes.”

Simon met her gaze, pulled free of her hands, and swallowed the remaining brandy in a single gulp. He walked back to the wet bar and poured himself another double. When he turned to look at her, Emily could see that the dilemma was tearing at him: Did he stay where he thought he could keep his kids safe? Or did he listen to this stranger who had suddenly materialized in his life and head north into the unknown?

“Can you guarantee that if we leave here, the instant we set foot outside of the valley we won’t die? Will you look me in the eyes and guarantee the safety of my kids?” His words were delivered without emotion or anger, but as a simple question that he already knew the answer to.

“I can’t guarantee anything other than everyone else is dead. There will never be a rescue party. But whatever is happening out there”—her hand fluttered toward the darkened window—“will reach in here at some point and snatch away the lives of you and your kids. Just like it did to everyone else on this planet.”

Simon placed the glass onto the wet bar, its contents untouched, and looked into the darkness beyond the window. “If Elise was here, she would know what to do. It would be simple for her. She would have liked you.”