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Updated Saturday 10 May, 2008 12:19 PM | Headlines | Discussion Forum | International Edition |
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Extinction Event By Doctor What
Chapter 18 “Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death.” - Earl Wilson ** Tuesday Aug 19, 2008 – Somewhere on Mont Royal Avenue West - Montreal, Canada Philippe and the rest ran through the streets, heading west towards the Mountain—which was still there. A voice in the back of Philippe’s head was yelling at him for running stupidly and blindly like they were doing through the empty street. Stop you idiot! Get your bearings! Find someplace safe to stop somewhere and think about what to do next! Stop running like a jackass! You’ll get yourself killed doing this! The wind shifted and the smell of rotting plants hit Philippe from the…forest?...that seemed to have replaced the entire right hand side of the street. He almost choked on the smell of…ammonia?...that seemed to literally pour out of it. To his left were familiar looking buildings and homes, empty and dark. Like tombstones thought Philippe. There was another loud roar from the forest, followed a few seconds later by a cacophony of grunts and yelps and chattering, as if a whole zooful of animals were responding. The seven continued to run. A moment later they got to St. Laurent Boulevard. Philippe—despite the fear and terror coursing through his body like adrenaline—actually came to a stop. St. Laurent Boulevard was affectionately known as the ‘zipper’ of Montreal. Not only was it the traditional dividing line between French and English Montreal but the entire street –stretching from the northern part of the Island to the port in the southern part—was as close to ‘party street’ as one could find. If it involved alcohol, food, music, dancing or nudity –or ideally, all five simultaneously—you could probably find it on the street somewhere sooner or later. Even at 2 AM on a Tuesday in the middle of February during a snowstorm, one could always find a few diehard party goers stumbling around. It was empty now. Completely devoid of life. As far south as he could see, the street was filled with dark buildings, crashed cars and wind-blown trash. “What the hell is happening here?!” shouted someone behind Philippe. “Who gives a shit! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” “Where the hell we go?! Half the city is gone!” “We go to the half that’s NOT gone, imbecile” Philippe was about the suggest that they try to see if any of the buildings were open when he spotted a shape come out of an alley half a block down the street. No….three shapes…. Philippe gasped. He was vaguely aware of gasps coming from people behind him, The…creatures….looked liked those damn raptors from Jurassic Park—big jaws, sharp teeth, wicked looking front talons—the whole works. The only thing that was different was that the three of them had absurd looking red coloured crests on the tops of their heads. The one in front—slightly larger than the other two and nearly as tall as Philippe-- walked slowly into the middle of the street, its two companions hanging back a bit, obviously deferring to it. But not deferring enough. The bigger one snapped at the other two, letting out a growl in the process. The two—now suitably admonished and cowed—took a few steps back. The front one turned and looked at the seven of them, a look of intense curiosity and confusion obvious on its reptilian face. It cocked its head to one side, still staring at the seven humans. None of the seven moved—shock and fear paralyzing them in place. Philippe stared at the dinosaur, his mind scrabbling to make sense of what he was seeing. The dinosaur leader suddenly let out a hiss, rearing its head back and snapping open its jaws, showing a mouthful of sharp, bloodstained teeth. With a muffled growl—it sprinted forward—followed a split second later by the other two. Straight towards the seven humans…. Philippe was aware of a hand grabbing his and yanking him to the side and pulling him forward. Ghislaine…. “MOVE!” she screamed, yanking him forward with all her strength. Philippe heard a woman shriek behind him—that was suddenly cut off by a loud roar. As he willed his stubborn legs forward, he heard more screams and roars behind. He and Ghislaine ran, the shrieks and roars and moaning sounds behind him dropping off into the distance. Blindly following Ghislaine, he turned north and ran—into the forest…. A green wall of vegetation—reeking of decay, freshly turned earth and the faint coppery smell of fresh blood—slammed into Philippe as he burst through.
He had no idea how much time they spent in there. One minute? Five? Ten? All he could remember was the smells assaulting his nose, the loud growls and roars that seemed to come from all around him, the branches of numerous trees and plants tearing at his body and clothes like disembodied arms, a darkness so intense that he couldn’t see more than three feet in front of him. The only thing that kept him grounded—that kept him focused on the here and now –that kept him…sane – was the fact that Ghislaine’s hand was hanging onto his. He clutched it like a drowning man hanging onto a lifeline—and tried not to think what would happen if the grip was let go… They ran, zigzagging, through the forest, running away from any particularly loud roars they heard and always running as fast as they can. It came as a shock to the both of them when they ran through another wall of vegetation and suddenly found themselves on a city street.
Ghislaine looked around in confusion, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Where the hell are we? I don’t recognize this area!” Philippe blinked and glanced around, desperate to see something—anything—that looked vaguely familiar rather than having to spend one more minute in the forest. He blinked when his eyes laid upon a restaurant sign that proudly announced the name of its establishment as ‘Pendeli’s Pizza’. “I know that place! We’re…we’re…just down the street from the Outremont Station!” “No fucking way am I going back into a subway station!” A loud roar –much louder than any heard before—suddenly shattered the night. A second roar—louder and closer than the first—was heard a few seconds later. One of the “crested Raptors” came out of the forest about a block or so to their left—and turned in their direction. And howled. “Run!”
It was only 200 meters to the station—a distance that any reasonably healthy person could easily cover in less than 30 seconds in a dead run. Being chased by a ravenous dinosaur gave them an extra bit of incentive and—despite the fact that both of them were exhausted from their earlier running-- it took the two of them only 20 seconds to cover the distance. But as far as Philippe was concerned—it felt like 20 minutes, as he was convinced that at any second the thing behind him would leap on him and tear him to shreds. Oh God…please don’t let it be locked thought Philippe. They reached the station with the dinosaur a mere dozen or so meters behind them, Ghislaine slightly ahead of Philippe. She pulled on the glass doors and rushed into the station. Philippe practically leaped through the open door and the two of them yanked on the door--- --and slammed it shut just as the raptor slammed into the glass paned door. The momentum of the crash simultaneously knocked both of them backwards, Ghislaine and Philippe crashing with a thud onto their backs onto the stone floor of the station and the dinosaur practically bouncing off the door and landing on its tail outside the station. The dinosaur shrieked again and instantly got up and launched itself at the two of them again, trying to get through the glass door. It didn’t succeed and bounced off the doors again. Shaking its head, it slowly got up again—and stared at its prey—maddenly just beyond its reach. Philippe groaned and opened his eyes—and found himself looking into Ghislaine’s face. He was lying face down on top of her. Philippe blushed and quickly got up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,…” he murmured. “Don’t be.” “Huh?” He was just about to ask her what she meant by this when the dinosaur launched himself at the glass door once more—and bounced off once again, this time leaving a smear of scarlet blood on the glass door. Except for a few small spiderweb-like cracks—the glass door was still intact. “C’mon!” shouted Ghislaine, grabbing Philippe by the hand again and running down the stairs of the station.
The scene that awaited them was like something out of a post- apocalyptic movie. An empty subway train—its doors wide open—was at the platform, shrouded in darkness. Scattered all around—on the platform, on the stairs, on the escalators, everywhere –were the scattered flotsam and jetsam that would be expected to be seen if several hundred people suddenly evacuated a train and either did not know or did not care if they left a few things behind. A jacket here, a purse there, a dropped iPod over there…there was enough stuff to keep a Lost and Found department busy for days. Philippe bent down and picked a Walkman lying on the ground and turned it on. “….next twelve hours. Message repeats. This is Sylvie Begin, formally the Deputy Premier and now the Acting Premier of Quebec. As you are now aware of, a catastrophic event has occurred in the Province of Quebec. Rest assured that all available police and military personnel are being called up in this emergency. Emergency crews are working to restore power as soon as possible. We are urging citizens to stay in their homes –“ “NOW she tells us!” said Ghislaine, rolling her eyes. “Shhhh!” said Philippe. “—off the roads to assist emergency personnel in their duties. To the citizens of the Island of Montreal—we repeat—stay in your homes and avoid leaving them if at all possible. If circumstances are such that you are unable to go home, we urge you to find shelter immediately. If you are unable to do so, emergency camps and shelters have been set up on the South Shore and in Laval. We repeat—emergency camps and shelters have been set up on the South Shore and in Laval. All camps have been set up within walking distance of all bridges and tunnels off the Island. This message will be broadcast on all emergency frequencies in both official languages for the next twelve hours. Message repeats. This is Sylvie Begin, formally the Deputy Premier—“ Philippe shut the radio off with a click. “Just great! We’re right smack in the middle of the Island, trapped inside a subway station and no food and water while the whole city is falling apart! What the hell are we going to do now?” There was no answer from Philippe. “Philippe?” Ghislaine looked at Philippe—who was shifting his gaze between the radio and the subway train over and over again. He glanced to his right—down towards the tunnel—and smiled. He turned towards Ghislaine. “I have an idea.” “What? To get us out of here?” How?” “We use the subway tunnels. Walk all the way to the Cote-Vertu station and then take the bridge there.” Ghislaine stared at Philippe in shock, her jaw practically reaching the ground. “Are you insane?! That’s the craziest and most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard!” “It’s not crazy! Look! Its four stations due west towards Snowdon station. Then it’s another six due north towards Cote-Vertu. From there, it’s only 3 kilometers or so towards the Laval bridge! We can do this!” “But what about the dinosaurs! They could be waiting for us in the tunnels!” Philippe shook his head. “No way! The whole subway is totally underground, remember! At no point does the subway train go above ground. Unless some idiot left a door open or something, none of them will get in!” Ghislaine shook her head. “You have any idea how long a walk that is?!” “About eight or ten kilometres in total, I think.” “And nearly all of it underground! What if we find another blocked tunnel!” “It’s a chance we’ll have to take. Besides—at least this way we can avoid being on the streets for as long as possible.” “And what are we going to do once we get to Cote-Vertu? It’s still 3 kilometers to Laval.” Philippe shrugged his shoulders. “At least we’ll be only 3 kilometers away rather than smack in the middle of the island with no food or water and no chance of rescue.” Ghislaine stared at Philippe for a very long moment—and finally nodded. “Still say this is an idiotic idea—but it’s the only idea we have at the moment that can help us. Let’s go.”
A few moments later they stood at the entrance of the subway tunnel, holding hands. Philippe pulled out his lighter and turned towards Ghislaine. “Aren’t we supposed to say something profound here before we go?” Ghislaine pondered this for a full minute before nodding her head and replying. “Please God—don’t let us fuck this up.” “Amen.” Philippe lit the lighter and the two stepped into darkness…
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