World Without End Book Three: Chapter Twelve

by Rachel Anton

Some night, somewhere, in the truck:

I took you with me.  We were only supposed to take necessities- the contents of our survival packs- but everyone took something extra.  Dana took Eve's toys and Ret.  Mulder took some books and a few of those old music tapes he found.  I'm not sure where he's expecting to play those.  Alex took almost the entire contents of his office.  And I took you.

Mulder gave you to me so that I could record my history, and that history isn't over yet.  Not as long as I'm still breathing.

I don't know how long we've been driving.  It is dark outside, and Alex has been at the wheel since the sun came up this morning, but I've lost count of how many times we've seen the sun rise and set through the windows of this truck, this new mobile home of ours.

We've stopped several times- whenever we've seen an abandoned gas station or rest stop.  There is still fuel, and Mulder still has the access card Spender gave him all those years ago.

Spender is dead.  He was the only one of our small group who didn't make it out alive.  We saw him die, burn to a pile of smoldering ash.  He'd been so close to the truck, but not close enough.  His pack was already here, on the floor in the back seat, and it's still there now, between Mulder's legs.  None of us has opened it.

We almost didn't make it out.  Honestly, I don't know how we did.  It was a blur of terror and shock, watching our home burn to the ground and fleeing the remains.  All I know is that the rest of us made it to the truck in time, and Dana can drive faster than hate when she's running for her life.

According to the map we are very close to the British man's colony.  The others seem hopeful.  Everyone seems to have faith that our friends will be waiting there for us, and that once we are there a course of action will become clear.  I am not so hopeful.

For some reason, I fear what we will find at the other colony.  After witnessing the destruction of my home, I can't help but wonder if the others fared any better.

For now, though, I'm just grateful that all of us are together and alive.

Another day

We reached Smith's colony this morning, shortly after sunrise.  I am sad to say that my pessimism has been vindicated.  The buildings there have been burnt to the ground, and not a trace of life remains.

While walking through the ashes, we stumbled across several sets of badly charred bones.  Dana identified most of these as human, but some were alien.

It didn't make any sense.

"How could this have happened?"  Alex asked, holding a crumbling alien skull in his hand.  "How could they have died?"

No one had an answer.  We've always believed them to be unstoppable, indestructible.  Fire certainly isn't enough to kill them.

We left the colony several hours ago, and we've been driving south with no particular destination in mind.  A few miles back, we came across a structure in the road that looked to be some kind of check point.  We were nervous as we approached the booth, but when we reached it we saw something very strange.  Another alien corpse, this one fully intact, sitting in a plastic fold-out chair.

Dana wanted to examine it, but Alex advised against it.  We have no way of knowing what it was exposed to, what kind of dangers we might be exposing ourselves to by getting too close.

Relieved, but confused, we continue.

Another day

It has been many days since we found the British man's colony.  In that time we have seen many more alien corpses, scattered throughout the landscape.

Last night, weary of catching brief naps in a moving vehicle, we camped in the woods.  Our fear of being captured and killed has been lessening with every day and we felt relatively safe setting up camp out in the open.

From my sleeping bag, I saw lights falling from the sky.  At first I thought them to be shooting stars, but they were much too large and colorful.  I woke Mulder up and we watched them together.

"Do you think they're ships?"  I asked him.

"Maybe so.  It seems like all the ones down here are dying," he said.

I understand, perhaps better than any of the others, the deep and intricate symbiotic relationship between alien physiology and alien technology.  It stands to reason that if one were to fail, to die, the other would follow.  As alien life on Earth deteriorates, the machines that have been hovering above us for so long are malfunctioning.

The only question is- why?  Why are they dying?

Dana believes that in the midst of their destruction, the aliens managed to unleash the one thing that had the power to destroy them.  She believes that someone, somewhere perfected the bio weapon we'd all been working so hard to create.

Alex insists that the last hope for the bio weapon  was destroyed in the raid on the Rebel headquarters, that there must be some other explanation.  I think it bothers him that they seem to be gone and he wasn't the one to bring them down.

My only concern is that we're wrong about them all being dead.  It almost seems too good to be true.

And then there's the question of other humans.

The world feels very empty.  I don't know how many days we've been driving, but I know how far: nearly 2000 miles.  I've been watching them flip by on the dashboard.  In all those miles, we haven't seen another sign of life, alien or human.  Animals and empty buildings are all that's left.

We're continuing southward.  It's getting warmer.  Soon we will run out of road.  I don't know what we'll do then.  Two men, one woman, a clone, a child, and a dog.  Can this be all there is?

The thought seems to frighten everyone else.  Alex hasn't spoken in a very long time.  Dana has been holding Eve on her lap, cooing and comforting her, with a look of sheer terror in her eyes.  Mulder has been holding my hand.  His palm has been sweaty for days.

Everyday, I have been thankful for the fact that we are still alive, but now I'm starting to wonder if we're the only ones.

Another night

Mulder asked me today, as we ate canned corn in an empty parking lot, if I believed it.

"Could we really be alone, do you think?"  he asked.  "Are we the only people left on the planet?"  He looked like he was about to cry.

"Maybe," I said.  "I don't know.  Honestly, it doesn't matter to me all that much.  Everything I love is in that truck."

He kissed me, and I was happy, but he looked very sad.

The wheels roll on and the night grows long.  Everyone is asleep except for Alex and me.  As I scrawl this blindly in the dark, I wonder if it will be legible in the morning.  I wonder if, in ten or twenty or two years, anyone will be alive to read it.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I read a play about hell.  The people in the play didn't realize they were in hell.  There were three of them, stuck in a room, forced to make small talk with each other as they struggled to figure out how they'd gotten there and how they were going to get out.  Two women, one man.  One of the women was a lesbian.  The lesbian wanted the other woman who wanted the man who wanted the lesbian.

Hell, according to Jean Paul Sartre, is other people.

I haven't slept very much in the past few days, but when I have, my sleep has been dreamless.  This is one of many factors contributing to my belief that I'm not really here at all.  I'm pretty sure that I'm dead.

This could very well be hell, but at least there's four of us.

The sun is rising again, just as it has done every day of my life, but I'm willing to bet that there is a sun in hell.  Isn't it supposed to be hot?  It's getting hotter every day in this truck without air-conditioning.

Krycek pulls into a parking lot so that we can switch places.  It's my turn to drive.  I get out of the truck, stretch my limbs, and look around.

The lot is almost empty.  Almost.  There is one other vehicle, parked close to the burnt out shell of a building, and I walk to it with blind hope.  Foolish hope.  When I get close enough to see the cobwebs growing inside, wrapping around the skeletal remains in the driver's seat, I turn around and get back in the truck.

This used to be a McDonald's.  The building is almost gone, but the giant M still stands.  I wonder if there's any ingredients left inside.  I could really go for a Happy Meal right now.

"What was in the car, Mulder?"  Scully asks me from the passenger seat.  Eve is bouncing on her lap, smiling and reaching her hands in the air, trying to grab a hold of the rays of sunlight filtering in through the windshield.

"Nothing.  Just…nothing."

And then we're back on the road.  Me and Scully, in another car, on another highway.  Only this time, the pavement is crumbling under us and there is no case we're rushing to solve.  In fact, there's no rush at all.  Figures that the one time we're not in a hurry, there'd be absolutely no traffic.  Not another damn car on the road.

We drive past exit ramps purporting to lead to Holiday Inn, Pizza Hut, LongJohn Silver's, but the signs are dusty and broken and full of lies.  One of them claims that we're almost at Disney World.  There's a picture of that damn mouse on a billboard, and it's so damn funny to me- the things that have survived.

"Lookit!  Wassat?"  Eve asks, her voice excited and curious.  She points to the sign as we pass it, and wriggles around on Scully's legs.  I think it might have been fun to take my daughter to Disney World.  I wonder what's left of it.

"It's Mickey Mouse," Scully says.  "You like him?"

Eve is quiet for a long time, pondering the question.  Such a thoughtful child, so damn smart.  What kind of life have we condemned her to?

"Umm, noo," she finally decides.  "Mouse's scary."

From the backseat, there is laughter.  Krycek.

I suppose it is pretty damn funny.  Of all the scary shit, the fucking nightmarish horror show this kid has been exposed to, things she's sat through with a calm complacency that we've all envied, she's afraid of goddamn Mickey Mouse.

God, I love this child.  We can't be in hell.  Eve is here.

Maybe it's just purgatory.

Either way, my urge to go to Disney World has been quelled by Eve's distaste.  We pass the exit, and it's just another blue sign, another dot on the endless highway.

I glance in the rearview mirror and see Roseanne looking back at me, a smile on her face.  She's been almost as calm as Eve through this…this thing, this end of the world blowout blitz we've been driving through.  A long time ago she told me that she was scared of this, but now that it's here she's almost serene.

Sometimes I don't understand her at all.  The fact that I want to is something of a revelation.  For so long it's been Scully, only Scully in my thoughts and in my heart.  She's still there, of course, and I know that I'm in her heart as well, but any romantic notions I might have had about a one true love seem oddly out of place here.

I love Roseanne.  I don't know if it's a romantic love, but I'm not sure that it matters.  I would have a child with her, and right now that seems like a very important thing.  Repopulating the world with such a limited gene pool is a bit of a dreary prospect, but I suppose we've got to start somewhere.  It's the only hope we've got.

We drive on, and on, and on.  Me and my karass who, as it turns out, have been fated all along to be the last people on Earth.  When we reach a fork in the road I decide to head east.  The ocean seems to hold more promise than the gulf.

Maybe when we get to the end we can go swimming.  Hey, at least the beach won't be too crowded.

End Chapter Twelve
Continued in Chapter Thirteen

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