The House at the End of the World

by Madeleine Marsh

  Matt rubs his thumb over the small bones in Luke's hand. ‘If I’m right, if this isn't Heaven, where do you think it is?’

  ‘Purgatory? Limbo? Nevada?’

  Matt huffs in amusement. ‘You really think we're dead?’

  ‘We're definitely not in California anymore.’

  ‘I thought the end would be louder.’ That makes Luke laugh. Matt looks up at him and murmurs, ‘Love you,’ and Luke repeats it back to him. No big deal, they’ve said it before, a few times over the last fifteen years, when they've pulled things back from the hairy edge. They know it, it doesn’t have to be said but now and again it’s good to hear. They live for one another, they would die for one another. They've come close on a couple of occasions. Sometimes Matt needs to say it and Luke needs to hear it because the only thing they have in the whole world is each other.

  One particular night, after a humiliating and almost fatal fight with an acheri in the body of a little girl left them broken, bloodied and bruised, they curled up together on one bed in a cheap motel and spent the night clinging to each other, unsure whether or not they could go on. Alone, Luke might have put a gun in his mouth but leaving Matt was unthinkable. When they go, they'll go together.

  This though, Matt's fingers stroking his hand, this is different. This isn’t comfort and they both know it. This is something that runs much, much deeper. This is them, finally, as open to one another as they’re ever going to be.

  Matt stands up, keeping hold of Luke's hand as he steps around him, pulling him away from the window, his other hand settling at his waist. They're close and they've been this close a thousand times before but it feels like all the arguments against have turned to dust, all the rationale is suddenly, irrevocably pointless. There's strength and heat in Matt's fingers, determination in his eyes. They're both strong willed but Matt's tired of dancing around this thing and Luke doesn't have the will to fight it any longer either. Their love is unconditional, the only boundary set by a moral code that doesn’t belong to them.

  The way Matt’s looking at him.... There’s always been love and affection in his eyes, but now there’s something else, something he’s seen hints of before but never this bright, like it’s burning up from inside his soul. Lust: pure, simple and breathtakingly beautiful.

  ‘You gotta be sure. We both know there’s no going back from this.’

  Matt doesn’t answer, he’s always been brave. He just smiles and nods. Then he pulls on Luke's hand.

  Not about to play the chick in this, Luke pushes Matt backwards towards the bed, stumbling as he trips over one of his brother’s oversized feet. The backs of Matt’s knees connect with the mattress and he falls on to his back, pulling Luke down with him.

  Luke turns the dial and waits for the water to come through before stepping into the shower. He's used to waiting until the water's hot, but it's instantly there. He's sticky in places he hasn't been sticky in for a long time and he can't decide if it’s gross or not, because he's been covered in many more disgusting bodily fluids in the past, of all colours, consistencies and origins. He decides it's not so bad, could definitely be worse.

  ‘You use up all the hot water, I’m gonna shoot you,’ Matt calls from the bedroom.

  Luke grins. Finally kicking the elephant out of the room isn't going to change the habits of a lifetime. He turns the flow to full and washes every inch of himself twice in the slightly too floral soap that he finds in the dish next to a bottle of apple shampoo. This is the best place they've woken up in by far. It's in their nature to be suspicious but it feels safe to both of them even if it's nothing but a time out, a break in hostilities. Since picking a side, and yeah, only monsters side with monsters, it's been one hunt, one fight after another; everything from Shelob-sized arachnids to flesh eating zombies, bakus to vampires, crocottas to wraiths.

  It’s a slight concern that he hasn’t seen a gun since he woke; they don’t appear to have any weapons at all. But then there hasn’t been an obvious menace in however long they’ve been sleeping because they would have known about it. They haven’t stayed alive this long without being able to sense danger in their sleep. And at least Matt can't carry out his threat, although it's starting to seem like using up all the hot water will be more of a challenge than usual.

  He can still feel layers of dirt being washed from his skin. This is the first proper, honest-to-God shower he’s had in a decade. It's like standing under a waterfall in comparison to most motel showers which feel like having a dehydrated man pissing over him. Whatever this place is, it's the kind they've only dreamt about, the sort of comfort they never even bothered to fantasise over because they've never had the means to afford it. No one in their right mind would turn it down but it hasn’t exactly come free. The price they've paid over the years is incalculable.

  ‘Hey!’ He looks up moments before a stark naked Matt is wrestling him out from under the water. ‘My turn!’

  Luke laughs, gives up the shower before one of them ends up cracking their skull on the tiles, and towels himself off. ‘I think we'll be the equivalent of human prunes before we run out of hot water. Something's definitely not right about this place. I mean, how many motels have we ever stayed in with heated towel rails?’

  Matt stares out at him from under the flow. ‘One thing I am sure of is that we're not in a motel. And it's not just the towel rail. What about the second toilet just to wash your ass?’

  Dropping his towel on the tiled floor, Luke turns on the hot water over the sink just in case, but it makes no difference so he shuts it off again and strolls naked into the bedroom. He starts opening drawers until he finds clean clothes. It’s lucky, because their clothes are trashed. No way is he putting on his old blood-stained jeans after he’s managed to get this clean, and exploring in the nude is something he’s reluctant to do even at the best of times.

  In the free-standing set of drawers there’s underwear and socks, jeans in both their sizes, T-shirts in black and white, and the narrow wardrobe contains button-down shirts of varying colours hanging next to a couple of hoodies and dark jumpers. He pulls on a black T, jeans and a black top. Matt’s still in the bathroom but the shower's stopped running, so Luke bounces on to the bed and teases him mercilessly about plucking his eyebrows and blow-drying his hair until a wet towel hits him in the face and Matt comes out.

  ‘What are the odds?’ he speculates out loud as he pulls on a pair of light blue jeans and Luke notes the lack of underwear. It’s not a case of odds and they both know it. He suspects they didn’t just arrive here by accident, something brought them. It’s time they left the bedroom and went investigating, however much they might want to curl back up together under the sheets. Matt pulls on a fresh white T-shirt and a dark red button-down.

  ‘You think everyone made it?’ Luke asks him, wanting to know if Matt maybe saw the same thing he did. Or rather, didn’t.

  ‘I think so. I think they were all alive at the end of it.’ Something in Luke’s face gives him away. ‘You don't?’

  ‘It's just... at the end, I remembering looking up, seeing Rick, and I thought....’ But he doesn’t finish, instead he shrugs. ‘I could have imagined it. By then I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.’

  ‘We’ll find out,’ Matt promises. ‘And if he didn’t make it, we’ll have a drink for him and raise a toast to his memory.’

  ‘And if we didn't make it?’

  ‘Not a bad way to spend eternity.’ He hesitates. ‘You know if we both weren't....’

  Luke stands close, rests his forehead against Matt’s and closes his eyes. ‘I know. Me too.’ He just lets himself feel the relief for a few long seconds before stepping back. ‘Come on.’

  Luke spots Emilie at the same time as Emilie sees him. A moment later she's up the stairs, meeting him halfway, flinging her arms around his neck. He huffs in surprise and briefly falls back against Matt, steadying himself. He hugs her back for a second or two before disentangling himself. Her shout brings someone
up from a battered leather couch and to his relief he sees Rick getting to his feet with a smile on his face. At the base of the stairs he shakes Rick’s hand firmly as Emilie gives Matt a slightly less enthusiastic, but nevertheless just as heartfelt, hug.

  ‘Good to see you,’ Rick tells him, and Luke nods.

  ‘You too.’

  As much of a relief as it is to see them there’s a pang of regret not quite overshadowed by the tinge of guilt that immediately follows it. Picking up strays wasn’t their best decision ever, the last thing he wants is to be burdened with them if the fight is over, no matter which side won. Letting Joe tag along was his decision, something Matt hasn’t let him forget even though they’ve never had reason to be sorry he made it. But there have been times in the last couple of months when they’ve wished they were alone the way they’re used to being. The two of them against the world is something that’s ingrained in them now. They’re grateful for the assistance but if they’re at the end of the battle or the end of the world, they both want to go back to the way things were, even if it’s just for the chance to explore the new way things are.

  ‘I thought you two were up there,’ Rick tells them, and it seems he’s been more convinced about their survival than they’ve been about his. ‘We didn’t think we should disturb you, thought you should be able to get some rest finally.’

  Luke glances back at Matt and smiles. ‘Yeah, thanks. We got some sleep. Are Joe and Gabe here?’

  ‘They went for a walk,’ Emilie explains, leading them into the kitchen.

  ‘Do you know where we are?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No idea.’

  Luke is about to ask her if there’s really any place to walk to given that he didn't see anywhere from the window upstairs when his attention's arrested by the lingering aroma of bacon and eggs.

  ‘Oh my God... you've had a fry up, seriously? There's food in this place?’

  ‘There's apparently anything you want,’ Rick clarifies and Luke doubts it’s true but he's willing to put it to the test.

  Emilie pipes up that she’ll cook but Matt’s already way ahead of her. He’s found the frying pan and he’s got his head stuck inside the fridge. ‘Sausage and eggs?’ he calls back, and Luke thinks he's going to start salivating.

  ‘Yes. God, yes.’ He hears his own tone and grins.

  Matt glances up at him, over his shoulder. ‘I was actually offering food, bro.’

  ‘Laugh riot.’ But embarrassingly he might be blushing. ‘Anything I can eat would be great. And I am talking about food.’

  There’s no way Rick and Emilie aren’t going to pick up on the change in the banter between them. Before today they've stayed well away from that untapped potential in their relationship. Not anymore.

  ‘I want coffee,’ Matt announces predictably as he pulls the sausages, eggs and milk out of the fridge and dumps them on the counter, heading for a door Luke’s hoping is a pantry and doesn't contain anything that isn't food.

  ‘I’m shocked,’ he grouches in response. Luke's had fifteen years of faking loyalty cards from Starbucks, Caribou and Tim Horton’s. They learnt of Gabe's addiction only hours after picking him up, when he practically begged them to stop at a Starbucks just a hundred miles from the carnage they'd left in Boulder City. Matt actually paid for the coffee for once. Gabe loves his lattes and frappes, for Matt it’s just the caffeine, no frothy milk watering it down or some too-sweet flavoured syrup making it taste like something it isn't. Straight up, the stronger the better.

  ‘There’s only instant,’ Rick apologies, and Luke’s about to say something sympathetic when Matt points to the far corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Except for that.’ They all look, and what do you know? There's a De’Longhi Espresso machine sitting resplendent on the work surface under two wall-mounted cupboards, all plumbed in, green light indicating its readiness for use. ‘Just need the beans and a grinder.’

  ‘That wasn’t there before,’ Rick states with conviction but Matt isn’t listening. He’s too busy digging a bag of roasted coffee beans out from one of the cupboards on the wall and fetching what Luke knows, from years of lectures he's only half-listened to in the front of the Mustang, is a burr grinder from behind the door by his knees. Going by the looks on Rick and Emilie’s faces these are all things they didn't know were there, and that's a surprise with Gabe in the house. He, like Matt, can smell coffee a mile away. Luke pulls a stool out from under the table and the other two also take up residence there while Matt grinds beans and cooks breakfast.

  He’s not bad in a kitchen. He picks things up quickly, did so even when he was a little kid. He was at home in the diner, but then he worked a temporary job in a burger van for five weeks one winter when he was sixteen and they needed the cash. He knows his way around an industrial griddle. He looks happy in this kitchen, especially once he has a strong black Americano in his hands. He puts one in Luke's hands too, and smiles happily. Luke wants to tell him he loves him but instead he just lifts the mug to his lips and savours the taste. It’s strong enough to make his throat burn.

  ‘Jeez, bro!’ He gets a slap on the shoulder and Matt goes back to his frying pan. ‘So what have we missed?’

  Before anyone can fill them in, they hear the front door opening and the unmistakable sounds of Gabe and Joe returning from their exploratory walk. They see Matt first through the kitchen door and Joe's over in a couple of strides to hug him tight. He lets him for a second or two before pulling back. Luke's next, a little awkwardly because he doesn't get up, and happily Gabe just settles for handshakes.

  ‘Damn good to see you boys,’ Joe tells them as Gabe pulls a couple more stools out from under the table. It amuses Luke the way he calls them boys, mostly because Matt hates it. Neither of them have been 'boys' for a long, long time but Luke can see the funny side whereas Matt doesn't exactly have a sense of humour about this stuff.

  ‘Good to see you too,’ Luke tells them and means it on the surface. Glad you're alive, glad you made it. When are you leaving?

  Predictably for a man who can find a Starbucks without a map, Gabe’s smelling the air and his eyes come to rest on Luke’s mug.

  ‘Is that real coffee?’

  ‘Yes. And it's mine.’

  ‘But there’s only inst—’ He catches sight of the espresso machine before Luke has to point it out. ‘Where did that come from?’

  Luke grins. ‘Don’t blame us if you’re all blind.’

  ‘I’m not blind. I need some of that. Right now. More than I need air.’ Gabe's never been one to worry about where his caffeine comes from as long as nothing gross is floating in it, but Joe looks dumbfounded.

  ‘I swear that wasn’t there before we left.’

  ‘Well, it's clearly there now.’ Matt's already making him a latte between buttering bread and making sure the sausages don't burn. He would make someone a great husband, even a great dad, if Luke could ever conceive of letting someone else have him. If Matt could ever consider being with someone else.

  Luke wraps his hands possessively around his mug just in case Gabe gets any bright ideas. It's taking Matt way too long to make Gabe a mug of his own and by 'too long' he means anything over a minute, two tops.

  ‘Any idea as to where we are or how we got here?’

  ‘No.’ Joe shakes his head. ‘One minute we were in that park. There was a blinding light, like an explosion, from the top of the hill you two went up and the next thing we know we’re standing in the yard out there. That was last night. There was a storm and this place and nothing much else.’

  ‘Just the four of you?’

  ‘Yeah. We had no idea if you two made it, although Rick was sure you were up in the turret room, he thought he could hear Matt snoring.’ Matt gives Rick a stony look which he pointedly ignores. ‘We did get an interesting visitor this morning.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘This... guy, I suppose, turned up out of nowhere. I say ‘guy’.... About seven foot tall with mad eyes and a c
oat the same height as he was, more or less. Said he’s the landlord, that he’s responsible for the house. We asked him where here is, but he didn't tell us, just said we were here for a rest. In Haiku.’

  ‘Haiku? The little Japanese poems?’

  Rick looks up. ‘Is that what that was?’

  Joe ignores him. ‘He did say we saved the world.’

  Luke shares a smile with Matt as he stands up. ‘Guess we did win.’ Reaching for him, he pulls his brother into a hug. This is what they’ve been fighting for all their lives. Matt squeezes him tight. ‘We did good,’ Luke murmurs in his little brother’s ear before releasing him.

  ‘Yeah, we did.’

  They don’t say anything else, there doesn’t seem to be anything more to say, and Matt goes back to making breakfast as if nothing’s changed. Maybe it hasn’t, not really.

  He hands Gabe a mug and there's a moment when Luke's sure Gabe’s going to plant a sloppy wet kiss on Matt's cheek. They haven't had real coffee since they left so-called civilisation to hole up in the diner for a week, reduced to Mountain Blend granules and long-life milk.

  Gabe settles for, ‘You're an angel,’ and Matt laughs.

  ‘I promise you, I'm not.’

  ‘So the landlord?’ Luke addresses Joe. ‘Not entirely human?’

  ‘Definitely not. More like a... a robot. A badly designed one.’

  He isn’t sure what he can say to that. Without actually meeting him, it’s tough to know what to make of what Joe’s telling him. ‘Emilie said you've been exploring. Find anything?’

  Joe spreads his hands and glances at Gabe. ‘Nothing.’ Gabe confirms it.