Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  “Doesn’t it scare you?” I need to know if I’m the only one. “That we won’t be able to protect her?”

  He nods, his face fierce. “I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep her safe. I love her so much. I didn’t know it was possible—” He breaks off and looks away, blinking fast.

  I rest my paint-covered hand on his shoulder. “I know. She knows it, too. Maybe that’s why she’s so happy, because we all love her.”

  Peter puts his hand over mine and smiles. He looks happy, at least as much as is possible while thinking of things like this.

  “We’ll do the best we can,” I say, no longer feeling so alone in my fear. I yank on his hand and stand up. “Now, how about a game of chicken? I know Nelly and Ana are in.”

  His teeth flash. “C’mon, we’ll whoop their asses.”

  102

  I’ve slept late, for once. Nelly must have snuck out as a little birthday present. I’ve always liked having a birthday in August because it meant I could spend it here.

  Bits stands at the end of the hall and slips away when she sees me, cackling madly. She’s been acting suspicious and innocent for days, in the way only little kids can. There are pancakes on the table, and the shutters lean against the wall at the far end of the living room, taken down for the day.

  Penny’s in the kitchen cleaning up. “Happy birthday!” she says with a hug. “How does it feel to be old?”

  “You’ll find out in four months. Until then you’re too young to understand.”

  “Happy birthday! When I’m as old as you I’m going to wear makeup!” Bits yells, apropos of nothing. You’d think it was her birthday, the way she’s dancing around. “Twenty-nine, that’s old!”

  I stoop and pretend to walk with a cane to the table. Bits sets something on my head. I reach up and feel soft fabric.

  “It’s your birthday crown,” Bits says. “I always get a birthday crown.”

  I take off the purple felt crown with a star sewn on the front.

  “It’s absolutely beautiful,” I say. “Did you make it?” Her smile is wide. She nods and I squeeze her tight. “Thank you so much. I’ll wear it all day.”

  I load up my plate and get more birthday wishes from the others. Nelly comes in with a pail of milk, and I thank him for letting me sleep.

  “Thank you for letting me sleep, birthday girl,” he says, as he rubs my shoulders. It’s been weeks with no nightmares.

  I find Ana in the garden. I know she’ll know what’s ripening, since she’s always in here.

  “There’s so much,” she says. “We have to get canning again tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do some tomatoes today,” I say.

  “Let’s just say the stove will be in use today and you will be out of the kitchen. If I say any more Bits will kill me.”

  I laugh. “Got it.” I smell the tomatoes we’re picking and sigh.

  “I know,” Ana agrees. “And they actually taste like they smell.”

  I compare the Ana of four months ago, flipping her hair and scowling, to the one that stands here. She must know what I’m thinking because she shakes her head.

  “I know. Gardening. Who would’ve thought?”

  “I could’ve sworn I saw you talking to the seedlings.”

  “I totally did, when no one was looking. I wanted to sing to them with you and Penny, but I just couldn’t. Like if I did I would be admitting to all of this. I didn’t want it all to change.” She raises her shoulders and places tomatoes in the crate by her feet. “I still don’t.”

  “Me, neither.” I think of the years I wasted after my parents died. “I’d like to go back to the way things were but do a few things differently.”

  “Me too. But Mama always says dwelling on the past gets us nowhere, so for once I’m going to listen to her.”

  “She’s right.” I have recent experience with that. “And speaking of the future, what’s with you and Peter? And I’m totally prying, so tell me.”

  She holds her hands out and a crease appears between her eyebrows. “Nothing. Sometimes I think he wants to kiss me and then, nothing. I have no idea. It’s driving me crazy. I like him so much, Cass.” Her voice has softened. “He’s the first guy I’ve ever liked that I actually like, you know?”

  I know all about that. “I’m on it.”

  Nelly and I run the generator in the afternoon after Bits orders me out the door until dinner. John’s house is quiet and cool. We lounge around in his living room while the freezers run.

  “So, I have something for you,” Nelly says from the couch.

  “A present?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He looks uncertain. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

  “How could I not like anything you gave me? Hand it over!”

  He pulls a little jewelry box out of his pocket. Inside is a silver chain of tiny, hand-twisted links. It’s old-fashioned looking and I love it instantly.

  I kneel and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s so pretty. Thank you.”

  “I know you don’t wear much jewelry, but it’s for the ring. Maybe you don’t want to wear it on your finger, but it might get lost in your pocket.”

  I stare at him for a few seconds, wondering how he knew.

  He raises an eyebrow. “We live in the same room. Plus, I know you, darlin’. But you don’t have to use it for that if you don’t want to.”

  “I do.” I thread the ring on the chain and hug him after he clasps it. “How do you always know what I need?”

  “I just think to myself: If I were a klutzy, flaky, artist-type, what would I want?”

  “Very funny.” I touch his knee. “No, really. Thank you, Nels, for always being there for me.”

  “You’re there for me, too.” He shrugs, embarrassed by the sentiment, and reverts back to his normal self. “Just so you know, I’m expecting a kick-ass birthday present now.”

  I wink. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  103

  Bits insists I be blindfolded and pulls it off while everyone yells, “Surprise!” There’s a beautiful, lopsided and heavily-iced cake, obviously her work, surrounded by homemade pizza and beer. But the best part is my dad’s wind-up record player. When I open my eyes, James drops the needle and “Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen” blares out of the speaker. He’s fixed it to work with 45s.

  “It’s a dance party!” Bits says. “Penny said you wanted one.”

  My eyes prickle as Penny smiles at me. I’m so lucky to have friends who know what you want and try their best to get it for you. I hug them, one by one.

  “Don’t worry,” James says in answer to my unasked question. “John checked the volume. You can’t hear it down the driveway.”

  I relax. I grew up on this music, because my parents did, and hearing it makes me feel like I’ve really come home. We teach Bits the twist, the swim and the mashed potato. Even John dances, because the mood is contagious, although he swore he wouldn’t. There’s a lull while Bits looks through records and we eat.

  “How about this one?” she asks. “ ‘This Magic Moment?’ ”

  Penny gently takes it from Bits and glances my way to see if I’ve noticed.

  There’s a twinge in my heart, but I nod. “That’s one of the best songs in the world. It was my parents’ song. You should play it.”

  The opening chords begin, and my chest constricts more. This song is my mom and dad; it’s Adrian. But then Nelly comes with his hand out, and I rise to my feet. It hurts, but suddenly I understand that it’s better to feel something than nothing at all. And I find that once I give into it, it lessens, and all that’s left is love.

  Peter’s in the kitchen cutting carrots and cucumbers into sticks. I jump up on the counter and swing my feet.

  He flicks my crown and smiles. “Hey there, birthday princess.”

  “Hey,” I say. “So, are you ever going to kiss that poor girl?”

  His hands go still. “Cassie, I have a lot of money. A lot. It can all be yours.”

&n
bsp; I wave a hand. “I don’t care about your money.”

  “Yes, I know.” His eyes glint. “I always thought it was refreshing, but right now it’s just bothersome.”

  I scream with laughter. He starts to chop again, but I touch his arm. “No, really, what are you waiting for?”

  He looks out the window into the night, then turns to me, his eyes anxious. “I don’t want to ruin things.”

  I remember being told the same thing. If he feels that way about her then it’s only a matter of time.

  “But you guys are perfect for each other,” I argue. “You won’t mess anything up. Are you worried about the kissing? You have nothing to worry about, Pete. I know from experience.”

  He blushes to the roots of his hair. I hear what I’m saying and think I should have skipped that last beer, but I don’t feel drunk. I feel good and silly.

  “Just think, you guys could open the world’s first post-apocalyptic boutique together.”

  I put my hands in a frame like I can see it.

  He laughs despite himself. “Cass, what has gotten into you tonight?”

  “I’m just happy.”

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face, and he grins at me. Peter always seems to be holding back a little, like he’s afraid to laugh too hard, but this smile is genuine.

  “I’m really glad to hear that. Even if it does result in your being even weirder than normal.”

  I’m not dropping this. “You won’t mess it up.”

  “We’re such good friends. What if we’re here for ten years? I had to be sure it’s the kind of thing that could last for ten years.”

  He’s talking in the past tense, though, so he must already have decided.

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. You should be friends, or it’ll never work. So, is Ana a ten-year kind of girl?”

  “Yes.” He actually looks shy, and my smile widens. “Yeah, I think she is.”

  “Then stop waiting. We may not have much time, so don’t waste it. It’ll be my birthday present!” I clap at my idea.

  “You want your ex-boyfriend to hook up with another girl as your birthday present.” Peter shakes his head in wonder as he picks up the plate and turns to leave.

  “I just want you guys to be happy.” My voice is wistful and he turns back with questioning eyes. “Haven’t the two of us wasted enough years of our lives being unhappy?”

  His smile is sad. “You’re right, we have.”

  “But not anymore.”

  “No, not anymore.”

  A current of that new happiness passes between us. We grin at each other, and I realize that Peter’s become one of my very best friends. I’m so glad he’s here. He nods and turns again.

  I jump off the counter and smack him on the behind. “Go get ‘er, tiger!”

  He leaps a foot into the air. “You know, maybe I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he says with a smile.

  A few more dances and I sit the next one out. Bits decides on “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.”

  Peter pulls a record from the pile. “After that’s a slow one,” he says to Ana, who’s eating a hummus-covered carrot. “Save it for me?”

  She stops chewing and smiles, her face shining. Then she swallows hard and gulps some water.

  I wink at her. “Peter knows how to waltz and fox trot and everything. He had to learn it for the cotillion.”

  He rolls his eyes. “There was not a cotillion, Cassandra.”

  I knew that, I just like to bother him about being rich.

  Ana laughs and bites her lip. “I won’t be able to keep up.”

  Peter smiles. “I barely remember the steps, anyway. You’ll do just fine.”

  I turn away to hide my huge grin. It’s finally going to happen between them, and I didn’t even have to use my gun. I was starting to consider it as an option. Nelly spins a giggling Bits as her song begins. I eat my cake and decide that, in a strange way, this might be the best birthday ever. There’s so much to celebrate, even if there’s so much to mourn.

  “Nelly!” Bits screams.

  The fear in her voice makes me drop my fork and spin around. Nelly holds her in his arms. She points to the windows, her mouth open in a silent scream. It looks exactly how I’d thought it would, all these years of avoiding windows at night, afraid I’d see a ghostly face looking in. The screen of the window above the couch bulges in from the pressure of the infected. They press their mouths against it, snarling and moaning.

  “Jesus Christ!” John yells. He never swears, and I’m not sure if it’s an oath or a plea for help. “Get the shutters!”

  We spring into action. The wood usually seems so heavy, but I lift it like it’s nothing. James races to help and tightens the screws. Peter and Ana get the other porch window and hold it there, their muscles straining as they force it back against the onslaught. The screen must have ripped through.

  Nelly has set Bits down, and he hauls the sliding door shutters across the room. She stands on the rug, pale and whimpering. I run to Nelly, and we get the boards there right as the glass breaks. They must be everywhere. A pod.

  Neil Sedaka finishes singing about being true, and in the silence I hear Flora and Bert and the chickens screaming and clucking. And, of course, those horrible, ghastly moans.

  The shutters buck under us. I turn my back to my board and push against it, but my feet slip millimeter by millimeter along the floor. Just when I think I can’t hold it any longer, Ana’s next to me, and we connect with the frame. John’s steady hands fasten the bolts.

  Hands at the other higher windows leave slimy tracks in their wake. Faces appear and bite at the glass before they fall back; maybe they’re standing on other infected. Penny’s lugged the shutters to their respective windows, and we attach them. It makes me feel a little better that we can no longer see them and they can’t see us. My mouth is dry, and the sweat that runs down my back turns to ice when I realize we’re completely surrounded. We’re trapped.

  “Fuck,” Nelly says. “We’re fucked.”

  “We don’t know how many are out there,” John says. “I’m going to the loft to check it out. Shoes and armor on, everyone.”

  We do as he says. The house echoes with the banging. A window breaks in one of bedrooms, but they can’t climb up, and Penny has closed the doors. I shrug on my holster and tend to Bits, who stands like she’s in a trance. I put on her shoes and zip up her jacket.

  I hug her stiff body. “It’ll be okay.”

  John leans down from the loft. “There are too many of them, with more coming out of the woods. We can’t make it to the van.”

  I climb the ladder. They’re everywhere. They crawl up each other onto the porch and pace in the driveway. They surround the van at the corner of the house.

  “If we can get them over here somehow, I can go out the hall window for the van,” John says.

  “We can break the loft window and climb out, shoot our guns, maybe throw a lamp,” I say. “Fire might attract them.”

  John nods in the dim light. We head back down, and John explains the plan.

  “I’ll stay up in the loft,” I say. “As soon as I hear the van, I’ll throw the lamp and come running.”

  “We’ll come running,” Nelly says. “I’m coming with you.”

  Penny clutches Bits on her hip and nods with wide eyes. I hold the oil lamp I plan on using. It casts a flickering glow on our faces, like we’re telling spooky stories at summer camp. There’s no time to say anything else; the pounding has gotten louder and the shutters are holding, but they shift with each thump. They’ve bought us time, but maybe not that much, not with the number of infected out there.

  Nelly and I climb to the loft. I use my cleaver to crack the windows, and Nelly pushes out the glass with a chair. We step out onto the porch roof.

  “Up here!” I yell.

  We kneel at the edge of the roof and aim for thei
r heads, even though we’re only trying to get their attention. There’s no way to kill them all, but there’s no sense in wasting bullets. Their hands reach up and wave like they’re at a rock concert. The air is foul, filled with the stench of death. They’re trampling my mother’s flowers, which should be the least of my worries, but I hate them even more because of it. Nelly strips the armor off his arm, and I see the glint of metal in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He draws the knife across his forearm and blood wells up. “Giving the people what they want.”

  He holds his arm out. The blood runs down and drips onto the infected. The instant it hits, they go insane. The moaning and hissing is so loud it attracts the stragglers to the front, and when they smell the blood they join the crush.

  The motor of the van revs to life, and he gives his arm one last shake. I pick up the lamp and aim for an empty spot. I think again of that year of softball. It certainly would have served me well to practice more. I never would’ve guessed those skills might save my life; I’d always thought playing softball might be the thing that killed me.

  I heave the lamp and it shatters and the oil ignites next to one of the infected. We slide down the ladder and run for the hallway.

  The van is backed up to the window. Peter and Ana stand on either side to shoot at anything that gets too close. More Lexers move our way, the distraction short-lived. James helps Penny and Bits into the van. There’s a crash of wood followed by the terrorized squeals of Bert and the goats. Bits covers her ears and stares at me with wide eyes as the rest of us make it in.

  The van rocks as bodies slam against it like caged animals. John guns the engine. I hold onto my seat as we bump over the grass and plow down anything in our way. I wonder if I’ll ever see my beloved house again, and I turn to take one last look. And as the lamp oil ignites the tattered clothes of the infected and the flames race up their backs onto the porch, I wonder if there will even be anything left here to see.

  104