Future Lost

12

I move to the middle of the silent street, then whirl around to take it all in. Other shops and restaurants have collapsed roofs and broken windows, some with scraggly trees growing out of them. A chain link fence is covered in ripped and faded posters, but I can’t make out the writing on them. One wall of an office building is decorated with graffiti that says The end is nigh.

This future is nothing like the others I’ve been to. Something must have gone horribly wrong in the last thirty years. I need to find Adam fast and get us the hell out of here.

But I haven’t seen any hint that Adam was here. Did Dr. Walters send me to the wrong time? Did I go much further into the future? If Adam did come here, where would he go?

A dirty orange flyer slides toward my feet, and I stop it with my boot. Across the top of it is a biohazard symbol. Below it, evacuation orders to the Palmdale quarantine zone.

What. The. Hell.

Palmdale is over an hour outside Los Angeles, out in the desert with a military base and not much else. I lived in a group home there for a year, and it wasn’t pretty. Why would there be a quarantine zone there?

Why would they need one?

I’m starting to get an idea of what happened to the world, but the more I see, the less I want to know—and the more desperate I am to find Adam.

There’s nothing for me to do but walk. I head west, toward the scorching sun’s descent, because I assume Adam would go that way too. Our apartment and his lab are in that direction, as is our future house, the one we’re supposed to live in one day with our daughter.

The desolation continues on every block. The sun beats down on me; the air is dusty and dry, the ground cracked and hard. There’s no life, except for the weeds that have grown up between the sidewalk cracks. Trees that were once planted along the side of the road are all dead now, their brittle branches twisting up like skeletal fingers. I spot the familiar arches of a McDonald’s, but the golden plastic has fallen off, leaving behind a rusted metal frame. I pass another lone car covered in rust, with broken windows and flat tires. Where the hell is everyone? Are they all…dead?

Something moves near my feet, and I jump back with a shriek. It’s just a small lizard, the kind you see out in the desert, but it nearly gave me a heart attack. It’s strange to see it here too. The only animals I’ve ever seen downtown are stray cats and dogs on leashes. The lizard darts under a boarded-up door and vanishes.

I take a moment to gain control of my breathing, then continue down the road more cautiously, taking care not to disturb anything or make a sound. There’s something about the empty streets that makes me want to keep quiet. Probably just paranoia, but it’s kept me alive so far, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts.

There’s a sound behind me. The brushing of fabric. A quiet step. A quick breath.

I’m not alone.

00:54

The hair stands up on my arms, and I get the feeling I’m being watched. A sharp glance around the area tells me nothing. If someone is there, they’re hiding. Waiting.

I duck behind an abandoned city bus on the side of the road, then reach inside my backpack. My hand grasps the cool, hard metal of the gun inside, but I keep it held low as I survey the street. Might be nothing. Could be someone walking by who can tell me what the hell is going on with this future. Best possible scenario: they know where Adam is. Worst: I have to use my gun.

Movement bursts from the shadows. Multiple figures, running toward me, and they don’t look friendly. I have only an instant to react, and I swing my gun toward one, but I’m tackled by another. The gun goes flying down the street, just as my body hits the cement.

Dirty hands grab at me. Tangled hair hovers over my face. Teeth snap near my ear. My training kicks in, and I shove the person off me, hard. She stumbles back, but another one reaches for me. With a burst of adrenaline, I jump to my feet and narrowly spin out of the way. As he passes by where I was, I slam his head into the side of the bus. He drops to the ground, but there are two more, still coming at me like rabid animals.

I grab the gun off the ground and aim it at them. “Stop!” I yell. “I’ll shoot!”

They don’t even slow down. If anything, they get faster at the sound of my voice. Their movements are rigid and jerky, and one of them has a slight limp. They’re wearing ripped clothes resembling rags, and underneath them, they’re so thin their ribs stand out. Their hair is long and matted, their teeth are yellow, and their nails are caked with dirt.

But the worst part is that their faces look…melted. Their skin sags and droops like a Saint Bernard, giving them big, hollow eyes and hanging jowls.

I hesitate too long. I should shoot them, but it’s harder to kill a human being than you might think, even if they look like something out of a horror movie. I keep expecting them to see the gun and stop, but they don’t. My hand shakes as they get closer and closer.

The nearest one lunges, and I whip the gun against his face. The woman reaches for me and I duck, then knock her back with a hard kick. But no matter how much I fight back, they keep coming for me. And behind them, two more emerge from a dark building, drawn to us by the sound of the fight.

I spin around and try to run, but one of them grabs my backpack, yanking me back. The others close in. I’m surrounded.