The End of Everything | Book 8 | The End of Everything

by Artinian, Christopher

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  Rod sat down cross-legged beside Mila. “Well, have you had your epiphany yet?”

  “Yes. I should have stayed in my little cottage back in East Crovie.”

  “That’s a beautiful part of the world.”

  “It was once. There were lots of beautiful parts of the world, but one by one they got made ugly, if not by man then by the infected.”

  “True enough. So other than that, have you come to any other conclusions?”

  “Yes. We are stuck inside the cargo compartment of an overturned lorry in the middle of a city that has a population of around forty thousand people, most of who are now, I’m guessing … dead … or deadish.”

  “Okay.”

  “And what’s the plan?”

  Mila looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Plan? Let me repeat, we are stuck inside the cargo comp—”

  “Okay, y’know, even if you hadn’t spent the last few minutes alone with your thoughts, I would pretty much have been able to figure that out all by myself.”

  “Well, good for you.”

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  “I think this might be a language thing. I obviously am not using the right words. We are stuck inside—”

  “Okay, okay, okay!” Rod replied angrily.

  Mila let out a long breath. “I am sorry. The only thing I can think of is waiting.”

  “Waiting for what? A rescue?”

  Mila let out a small laugh and Rod cracked a smile too. “No. Like I said earlier, if we stay quiet and something else grabs their attention, we may be able to make an escape.”

  “An escape? In the middle of a city?”

  “I thought I’d try some of that optimism you’re so crazy about. What do you know? It works. I feel much better now.”

  “Smart arse.”

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  “No offence, girls, but I don’t know how much use you two will be if we end up in a firefight,” Marcus said with a smirk.

  “Come on, there’s got to be something they can help with,” Izzy replied as Wren and Robyn looked towards each other.

  “Look, we’ve all been together for a few days now. We’ve got a plan in place. Everyone who’s got a weapon knows how to use one, and we don’t want a couple of Lara Croft wannabes getting in the way.” He turned to look at the two girls. “No offence.”

  “None taken,” Wren said bitterly as Robyn marched back out of the house.

  “Your sister’s a little touchy, isn’t she?” Marcus said with a condescending smile. His words lingered in the air for a moment before the sound of splitting wood made him spin around in a panic. An arrow had landed in the door of the rickety looking pine kitchen cabinet to his left, followed by a second then a third.

  Shouts of, “Put it down,” and, “Drop your weapon,” echoed in the yard outside as Marcus, Izzy and Wren all rushed through the half-open entrance.

  Robyn put her bow on the ground and stood, lacing her fingers behind her head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marcus demanded.

  “You speak down to me and my sister again and we’re going to have a proper falling out. I was just proving to you that we’re not wannabe anythings. We’ve seen more crap and fought more battles than you could possibly imagine, you jumped-up little Dad’s Army knob.”

  Izzy and Wren both stifled the urge to laugh, and Marcus looked back into the kitchen. Robyn was standing about twenty metres back and the arrows had landed in a perfect line down the door. As he continued to look, the door fell off, clattering onto the kitchen surface before landing heavily on the floor. “Err … well … yes, seems I might owe you a bit of an apology. Looks are sometimes a little deceptive. Lower your weapons,” he said, signalling to the others.

  Robyn bent down and picked hers up.

  “My sister has a penchant for drama,” Wren said, “but she’s right, we’ve fought hard to still be standing here today. If you think the road from Edinburgh is a smooth ride, think again.”

  “You came up from Edinburgh?” Izzy asked, shocked.

  “Via a few detours.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, so the whole book by its cover thing,” Robyn said, looking towards Marcus, “you might want to rethink that.”

  “Duly noted,” Marcus replied, a little embarrassed.

  “So, where were we? Oh yeah, what’s the frikkin’ plan?”

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  The crunch from the lorry’s cab as the windscreen collapsed inwards, followed by a wailing howl that sounded like it had come from the hound of the Baskervilles rather than a man, made everyone in the cargo compartment gasp. Even Mila and Rod looked at each other with concern. The rear doors were still holding, but it sounded like a thousand panel beaters were working in unison, drumming every visible inch of the vehicle.

  “Do you think the doors will hold?” Mila asked, just loud enough to be heard by Rod.

  “I think the doors will.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t know about the rest of the vehicle.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.”

  “Ignore me,” he said, trying to put on a smile. “I know bugger all about cars and stuff.”

  “Oh yes, saying that will work. Tell me what you are thinking.”

  “These lorries … they’re not exactly new. They belonged to a shellfish company not too far down the coast from Andrew’s Bay.”

  “What is your point?”

  “Have you ever seen what the salty, damp sea air does to the undercarriage of a vehicle? It makes it rust like buggery. I never checked underneath this thing to see if it was galvanised or not, but I’m guessing it isn’t. And, I mean, look at the roof panels, look at all of it, there’s rust everywhere.”

  Mila’s face turned a shade paler. “I think I feel sick,” she said, looking towards the floor of the vehicle, which was now to her right. Images of a zombie film she had seen as a youngster where hundreds of grabbing arms emerged from a wall in a nightmare sequence flooded her brain. The pounding remained constant, but in her head it was amplified a hundred times over. She climbed to her feet and looked towards the fencing. “Is there any way we can adapt it to make weapons?”

  “With what?” He stood up too.

  “The individual rails of the fence would make excellent spears.”

  At the top of each rail there was a sharp head in the middle and two smaller points at an angle on each side, so if someone tried to get over, they would impale themselves not once but three times. “If we had the disc cutter they’d have used to take down the fencing in the first place then it would be doable, but unless you’ve got some superpowers you’ve not told me about yet, there’s no way we’re going to be able to do anything with it.”

  Suddenly there was another sound that sucked the air from the cargo compartment. Everyone looked toward what had once been the floor as a creaking groan followed by a metal-on-metal crash rang like a giant rusty church bell making everything tremble around them. “What was that?” cried one woman.

  “They’re getting in. They’re getting in!” shouted another voice.

  “No, they’re not,” snapped Rod. “It’s the exhaust. The exhaust’s come off that’s all.”

  A few more seconds passed by, and there were no more creaks or crunches adding to the constant battering, and everybody gradually calmed down. Rod and Mila looked at each other. “I think just hoping these things will go away may be asking a little too much,” Mila said distantly. “If we are going to get out of this alive, you and I need to come up with a plan.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to come across like a dick, but to use your own words, we’re stuck inside the cargo compartment of an upturned lorry in the middle of a city that has a population of around forty thousand people.”

  “Dick!”

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  It had been decided that the van was the perfect vehicle to use for the roadblock. Everyone had their b
rief, now it was just a case of waiting. There were two lookouts positioned five miles up the road, just within the boundaries for a radio signal using the cheap walkie-talkies the resistance group had scavenged. Their orders were simple; as soon as they saw the escort bikes, they would place a call.

  Then it was up to Robyn to park the van across the road at a diagonal, open the doors to make it look as though it was abandoned and then the ambush was set. If they did it too soon, there was always a risk that another vehicle may head out of Andrew’s Bay, happen across the roadblock and call it in. It was a risk, but given the choice between ambushing a convoy consisting of twelve men and women or putting up a fight with four hundred, it was a no-brainer.

  “Are you okay with this?” Robyn asked, looking across at her sister in the passenger seat.

  They had pulled into a small car park near the start of a National Trust footpath. These were scattered all over the place as this stretch of coastline housed no end of scenic beauty. Wolf was fast asleep in the back of the van as the two sisters looked towards Izzy and Marcus who were standing at the entrance deep in conversation.

  “What do you mean?” Wren asked.

  “Well, you didn’t exactly sign up for this, did you? The agreement was that—”

  “The agreement was if it looked doable then we’d get Mila out. You and me heading into a place run by a huge armed gang isn’t doable. You and me taking out a handful of paramilitaries with fourteen other armed men and women is. This is the right play. But if it goes wrong, we get out, fast. We don’t stop until we reach Safe Haven, and we come back with our own army.”

  “Totally. I meant what I said; I’m not going to risk losing you again.”

  They both continued to look in the direction of Marcus and Izzy. Finally, Wren let out a small laugh. “You should have seen the look on his face.”

  “On whose face?”

  “Marcus’s … when you fired those arrows. I thought he was going to poop his pants.”

  Robyn giggled too. “He deserved it. If they had any idea what we’ve been through out there…”

  “I can’t believe how forceful you’ve become. You really remind me of Mum.”

  “What? Get lost.”

  “No, I mean it. Remember what she was like whenever anyone crossed a member of the family?”

  “Do I? I’m sure she had Mafia links.”

  “Yeah, I mean Dad was a strong man, people didn’t mess with him, but if she was in one of her moods, God! He used to run for cover faster than us. If he hadn’t had that shed, I’m sure he wouldn’t have made it as long as he did.”

  Robyn giggled. “Yeah. I still really miss them. It doesn’t go away, does it?”

  “I don’t think it’s meant to go away, Bobbi. I think that’s a good thing. They always stay with us; they always stay inside us, and I guess we always hold ourselves up to them. That’s what I mean about you. You’ve become this amazing strong woman like Mum. You’ve become like this because she was such a great mum and because she played such a big part in our lives.”

  Robyn smiled. “Thanks, Sis. That means a lot.”

  “Of course, if you do ever find someone to settle down with, he’ll have my deepest sympathy. Dad was a saint. Finding someone else like him would be like a one-in-a-billion chance and I really doubt there are that many people left on the planet.”

  “Settle down? Me? How long have you known me, Wren?”

  “Fair point. Plus there’s the Grandad obstacle, I suppose.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Grandad thinks you're his little Bobbi still. He doesn’t have a clue what you’re really like.”

  “Oh God! I didn’t even think of that.”

  “Yep, you’re going to have a long, boring, chaste life ahead of you.”

  “Maybe you and me could get a place … together.”

  “What? Leave Grandad?”

  “We wouldn’t be leaving him. Maybe we could find somewhere in Safe Haven or maybe get a caravan or—”

  “Calm down. I was joking. Grandad’s changed in a lot of ways, Bobbi; he’ll be fine with whatever you do.”

  “Okay, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe not straight away, but eventually, y’know, you, me and, if you like her, Mila.”

  “And Wolf?”

  “Of course Wolf,” Robyn said, turning in her seat to look at the sleeping German Shepherd. “We could have like a chick pad.”

  “A chick pad?”

  “Yeah. You’ve heard of bachelor pads? Well, we’d have a chick pad.”

  “Err … I might have given you the wrong impression about Safe Haven. What do you think actually goes on there? It’s not like a Club Eighteen to Thirty.”

  “Duh! Really? But it’s somewhere we could make a home, isn’t it?”

  “When we claim it back, it will be.”

  “Yeah, well, I think it would be nice if you and me and Mila and Wolf had a place together.”

  “They do have big mobile homes at the campsite, and I’m pretty certain I could swing one for us.”

  “Campsite?” Robyn replied with a disapproving look.

  “Yeah, it's just at the back of the pub.”

  “Actually, the campsite sounds perfect.”

  “Yeah, well, first things first.”

  “Marcus, Izzy and the rest of them seemed pretty keen on coming back with us.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you be? They are literally homeless. Everything they’ve been planning since that army took their loved ones has been leading up to what happens when those trucks come back down this road. Don’t you think the prospect of being able to set up a new home on the other side of the country would be attractive?”

  “So, in the last few hours, you’ve invited Ruby, Tommy, Izzy, Marcus, the rest of the ragtag army and presumably everyone we rescue too. Are you sure your people aren’t going to be pissed?”

  “You keep asking me this. I told you, as long as everyone pulls their weight, they’re welcome. Plus, three lorries full of supplies won’t exactly be frowned upon either,” Wren said with a smile.

  “That’s true.”

  The sudden crackle of a radio made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. They could not hear the full conversation through the small gap in the window, but they could see Marcus talking into the handset and nervous looks appearing on the faces of those standing around him.

  The conversation ended, and a short debate ensued. “What do you think’s going on?” Wren asked.

  “I dunno,” Robyn replied, “but nobody looks like they’re going to break the champagne open any time soon.”

  Izzy looked towards Marcus, took one final glance at the radio, and then jogged across to the van. Robyn turned the key in the ignition to roll down the window a little further. “Okay. They’re on their way,” Izzy said, “but there’s a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” Robyn asked.

  “There are only two bikes and two lorries. The lookouts have said the bikes are way ahead—”

  “And three of each definitely went out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s happened to the third?”

  “I don’t know, Robyn.”

  “But—”

  “Look, let’s just hope our people are on board one of them. Everybody’s in place, now do you know what you’re doing?”

  Robyn and Wren looked at each other and both let out deflated sighs. “Yes.”

  “Then get to it. We won’t have long.”

  She turned and headed back to Marcus, leaving the two sisters alone.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Bobbi.”

  “Me too, Sis. Me too.”

  chapter 12

  The hammering against the lorry continued. Occasionally there would be another sound—a piece of falling metal or a thud that seemed louder than all the others, making everyone look around in panic. The integrity of the cargo compartment was still holding, though, and when they did not see ha
nds breaking through and reaching out towards them, they relaxed a little … as much as one could relax in such a dire situation.

  “I’ve done it!” a woman cried, trying to make herself heard over the noise of the creatures. “I’ve done it,” she said again.

  “Done what?” Rod asked, looking across to her. If his memory served, the woman’s name was Donna. She seemed to have a little more about her than most of the others, but that was hardly a ringing endorsement.

  With a wide grin on her face, she lifted her leg up and unfastened the manacle around her ankle, causing it to jingle loudly as it fell. “When the fencing broke through the straps, it stretched one of the metal clasps. I was able to use it to pick the lock.”

  Freedom from the manacles was of limited use while they were all trapped inside the lorry with no immediate possibility of escape, but there was a sudden levity in the atmosphere that wasn't present a few seconds earlier. “That’s great. Do you think you could do the rest of us?” he asked.

  “Err … sure. I think so.”

  She got to work immediately and all eyes watched her, suddenly more interested in the possibility of being unshackled than that of the infected breaking into the lorry.

  Mila remained seated. Her chin was resting on her knees as she hugged them to her body. Rod sat down beside her. “At least that’s something,” he shouted.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve gone very quiet.”

  “I don’t know how anybody can tell with all this noise.”

  “Well, quieter than you were anyway. Still trying to figure out a way to use the fencing as a weapon?” he asked with half a smile.

  “No.”

  “Figuring out a way to escape?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “Just thinking about choices.”

  “I don’t get you.”