The House at the End of the World

by Madeleine Marsh

  Matt takes a deep breath. ‘How many of us here, in this room, are dead?’ There's a pause, then the glass shifts again. Joe keeps expecting the table to shake or the plates on the sideboard to suddenly fly off and smash on the floor. Nothing like that happens, just the smooth movement inside the loose circle of their fingers until the glass stops at 1.

  Matt opens his mouth to speak but Luke stops him with a glance before phrasing the next question very carefully.

  ‘Is it one of the two of us? Matt and I. Just yes or no.’

  The pause is longer this time, and Joe doesn't think they're going to get an answer. But slowly, slower than before, there's movement within their fingers as the glass shifts again to the far right hand side of the board. Y.

  ‘Which one?’ Emilie asks, but Luke snatches up the glass before it can move. There isn't a sudden gust of wind, a dramatic slamming of doors or a shrill scream, just more silence. They all look up at Luke except Matt who has his eyes closed.

  Emilie's staring at them, her eyes watery. ‘You don't want to know which one?’

  ‘No. It doesn't matter. If one of us is dead, we're both dead. That's why we're here, we won't let go.’ He turns at the same time Matt does, and they rest their foreheads together, hands coming up to grasp each other by the back of the neck.

  Joe needs to say something, to break the tension. But the thought of either of them... it's not possible. He saw them, at the end, still holding hands at the top of that hill.

  ‘Why are we all here?’ He won't be surprised if the brothers don't respond, as close as they are at that moment, but Luke's turns his head just a half inch, still touching Matt’s and Joe's stunned to see tears in his eyes. Not once in the last two months has he seen either of them cry, however much pain they’ve been in, however bad the injuries. Now though....

  ‘Possibly because you were with us at the end; the Scooby Gang.’ He manages a tight smile. ‘Or they might have thought we needed company.’

  That's laughable; Joe doubts they've ever needed any company other than each other.

  For a long time no one speaks. Matt and Luke seem to reach a wordless agreement, sitting up, Luke kissing Matt’s forehead in a way Joe finds oddly touching and not the least bit uncomfortable.

  ‘What happens to us if this all vanishes?’ Gabe murmurs.

  Matt replies, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve no idea.’

  Then Emilie asks, ‘What are you doing to do?’

  Neither answer verbally. But Luke drops his forehead to Matt's shoulder and groans softly.

  ‘They're going to end this,’ Joe murmurs, and he can only hope there is life after death.

  ~..~

  Rick stops at the base of the steps leading up to the house. The light's fading. The snow's melting. His gut twists as he climbs to push open the door. There's a sound, ominous and loud in the otherwise silent house. The landlord is still standing unmoving and unresponsive in the hall but the grandfather clock, the one that was stopped, is ticking; the second hand moving in smooth, circular steps, counter-clockwise, counting backwards.

  ‘Guys,’ he shouts, moving quickly towards the kitchen, the cushioning effect of the tequila all but gone. ‘What have you done?’

  ~..~

  Closing the door of their room, Luke leans back against it and watches his brother slump down on the bed. Neither speaks for a long time, neither knows what to say. Luke turns the lock and goes over to the bed, wrapping his arms around Matt as Matt’s come around him and they hold on tight.

  When he speaks, his voice is rough and choked with tears, ‘I don’t want to go on without you.’

  Luke shakes his head. ‘I’m not leaving you. How am I supposed to let go of you when you’ve been the only person in my life?’

  ‘I don’t want you to die.’

  ‘I might already be dead. We don’t know. We can’t know unless we let go and I have no idea how to do that.’

  ‘I don’t want you to let go.’

  The strength they take from one another is enough to ease the initial pain. Sucking in a deep breath, Luke lets his arms loosen but not fall. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you as well.’

  Luke lifts his head and they share another kiss just like the one outside only now he deepens it, turns it into more. Strange how this is the last line to be crossed.

  Matt’s the one to pull away, to wipe his nose on his sleeve. ‘I don’t understand. You were still standing there with me. We were injured but we were alive.’

  There’s a long silence. ‘We could stay here.’ But they both know how that would turn out. The idea of just giving up the kind of lives they’ve led to spend their days walking nowhere, drinking and playing pool at the fake roadhouse, is just slightly insane. ‘We could stop changing things, stop wishing for things.’

  ‘Then it would always stay the same, stagnate, nothing would ever change for any of us and eventually it would happen anyway because deep down it’s what we want.’

  ‘Eventually.’

  ‘We’d just be putting it off.’

  ‘Or it might just happen naturally. If there wasn’t the constant threat of mortal danger, we might drift apart, just slightly, just enough....’

  Matt smiles. ‘You think?’

  No, he doesn’t think. He can’t imagine ever loving his brother any less, ever not needing him or feeling the pull that he’s felt towards him for most of his life. His world has never not revolved around him.

  ‘So what do we do?’

  Matt looks at him, and it doesn’t take long for Luke to work out what he’s thinking. It’s the only way, and it’s been waiting for them ever since they got here. It should be terrifying but it isn’t. The only terrifying thing is the thought of living without each other, but that doesn’t have to happen and this is the only way it’s going to end.

  ‘The dream.’

  Matt’s fingers stroke his neck. ‘I think it was more than that. I think it was a suggestion, for when we're ready.’

  ‘I can't hurt you.’

  ‘You wouldn't be hurting me, you'd be saving me. Living without you – that would hurt.’ Luke takes a deep breath but he can't, won't, deny Matt anything and Matt knows it. ‘There’s time,’ he murmurs, and reaches for Luke again.

  They both get naked as quickly as they can, desperate to feel skin against skin. Luke begs Matt to kiss him and they lie together exploring what’s beyond that final line until Matt asks Luke to fuck him. There’s a brief argument that Matt wins, and it takes a couple of goes and some trial and error that has them alternatively laughing and wiping tears from their eyes, but eventually they work it out. Luke moves inside his brother gently, with reverence. More than can be said for Matt who takes his turn with a desperation driven by grief. They pour everything into it; years of love and fear for one another, of protection and possession, of patching each other up and stopping one another from falling apart.

  It has always been just the two of them and that’s the way it’s always going to be.

  ~..~

  Downstairs, Joe washes the dishes. He made pumpkin pie but he doesn't think they're going to be around long enough to eat it. It's a shame, because it's a good pie. He thinks he could have been happy here for a while, cooking and not continually looking over his shoulder. But it’s not his choice to make. He doesn’t think about what Matt and Luke are doing upstairs, because he knows now there are worse things than them having sex.

  Gabe is outside walking in the melting snow with a bottle of Merlot. Joe can see him out of the kitchen window, getting his shoes wet and smiling at the darkening sky.

  He can hear Emilie in the hall, stoking the fire in the grate. When he looks in on her, she’s going through the books on the shelves. As he watches, she slides one out and starts to cry. He can see the author’s name in large letters on the front – Tess Gerritsen.

  ~..~

  Rick pours a sherry for Nancy and one for himself and sits with her for a while. He asks her about Matt and Luke, abou
t what they were like as children. She tells him a few stories that they would probably shoot her for revealing. They were close even back then it turns out.

  ‘Their Mom could see it,’ Nancy says softly. ‘She told me one afternoon that they were too absorbed in one another and that it made her feel uneasy. I remember watching them play, out in the garden, one of those games only children know the rules for. I said, only good could come out of two brothers enjoying each others’ company. They would protect each other in the future, I told her, they’d look out for one another and how could that be a bad thing? Don’t get me wrong, they played rough, they didn’t hold back. But when one of them inevitably got hurt, the other would immediately stop and comfort him. It was odd, but it was odd in a good way.’

  Rick can see it in his mind’s eye; two children playing in the warm sunshine, Mom keeping watch out of the window. Kids doing what kids do best: shouting, wrestling, kicking and punching. Until Matt starts to bleed and the sight of his brother’s blood brings out a side of Luke that will have him risking his life and soul for his younger sibling one day, sooner rather than later.

  ‘Do you understand, dear?’ She turns to him and he feels like he’s been broken out of a spell. He’s back in the dimly lit lounge in a house somewhere between Heaven and Hell, talking to a woman who has been dead for twenty years. ‘I always knew something tragic would befall them. I could feel it. It was why God killed Luke’s parents and delivered him to Matt, why he made them so close. So they would be there for one another when the bad things happened.’

  Rick stares, wondering if she knows that for a fact. Wondering if she knows just how close they really are.

  ‘And they were. They survived; a thirteen year old and an eleven year old out in the world, just the two of them, and eventually they saved everyone.’ She casts off the toy she’s just finished, and drops it to the floor. Rick watches it but nothing happens, it just lies there. ‘Joe’s wrong about them. They had to love each other. It’s the only way the right side could win.’

  She stands up, leaning heavily on one arm of the rocking chair, pushing it downwards, shaky on her feet. Rick just watches her, trying to process what she said.

  ‘It’s been very lovely talking to you, dear.’ He stands too, offering her a hand which she waves away. ‘I’m fine. I believe I’m going now. You look after yourself. You’re a good man at heart; don’t let anyone tell you any different. Try not to hate the boys for what comes next.’

  ‘What does come next?’

  ‘Goodbye dear.’

  She’s gone.

  ‘Wait!’ But the only signs that she was ever here are the empty glass of sherry, the lifeless toy on the floor and the rocking chair still moving back and forth in front of the dying fire. He stares down at the toy before tentatively picking it up. It’s just wool with a felt face. It’s a child’s toy not a creature hungry for raw steak. Everything's changing. The inevitable is catching up with him and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

  He goes out into the hall where Emilie’s standing at the window clutching a book to her chest and watching the last of the snow melt away to leave wide brown patches of wet, decaying leaves. He looks into the kitchen and sees Joe hunting around in the pantry, hears him muttering something about the potatoes sprouting and the fruit turning bad. The house is shutting down. The illusion’s failing, the mask is slipping and there’s only one reason for it. With his heart hammering in his chest, he runs upstairs, up the spiral staircase and bangs on the door of the turret room.

  ~..~

  Matt and Luke hear Rick and tune him out. The twin knives were mounted on the wall across from the bed, whether they were there before neither can say but they were there when they reached for them.

  They're sitting cross-legged on the messy sheets, naked and facing one another. Just like in their dream, each brother has the sharp edge of a blade pressed to the neck of the other. One deep slash each will kill them both.

  Closing the gap between them, their mouths meet for a last, hungry kiss over the deadly steel. They’ve said all they need to, they know it all anyway. They’re tired too, not of fighting but of sharing themselves with other people. It’s time to leave.

  ‘Think Mom and Dad will be waiting for us?’ Luke grins and nods. ‘Think they’ll be mad?’

  ‘Definitely. Grounded for years with only each other for company.’

  ‘Sounds like Heaven.’

  ‘Ready, little brother?’

  ‘Ready.’

  It doesn’t hurt.

  ~..~

  The fire goes out. Emilie watches as the sky goes black. She calls the others in. Joe’s holding an empty, rusty baking tin in his hands and Gabe's hands are empty. There’s no snow now but everything’s still damp from it. The temperature’s dropping. Right in front of their eyes, the window cracks; a web spreading from the centre to the frame. They can hear it happening to all the other windows in the house, an eerie sound; slow and deliberate.

  ‘It's over,’ Joe whispers, and a tear breaks lose, escaping over his cheek.

  They go upstairs together, the three of them, and find Rick sitting at the top of the spiral stairs with his head in his heads. They step over him and Emilie turns the doorknob. The heavy door swings open. The room's empty. All that’s left are two curved blades lying one on top of the other on sheets stained red with blood. She starts to cry, and behind her Joe makes a choking sound in his throat and puts his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘They're together,’ he assures her, because she wouldn't ever want Luke to be unhappy. ‘Wherever they are.’

  ‘They have to go to Heaven,’ she murmurs, then tips her head back and shouts it to whoever’s listening. ‘They go to Heaven, you hear me? Or I swear I’ll hunt you down, wherever you are!’ There’s no answer. She doesn’t expect one, but she’s certain she’s been heard. She turns to Joe and sniffs. ‘How do we leave?’

  ‘I don't know. But I think we should get out while we still can.’

  ~..~

  Rick doesn't want to go but they drag him with them and the four of them stand in the yard with their backs to the house so they don't have to watch it disintegrate. It’s cold. Joe and Gabe are pulling on their coats, and Emilie is shivering. Only Rick doesn’t feel it. Rick’s getting hotter, as if there’s a fire burning at his back.

  It’s only a mild surprise when the clockwork landlord appears in front of them, working again.

  ‘If you are ready

  I will lead you back to where

  You were taken from.’

  Joe glances at each of them. ‘It’s been an honour. I’ll see you around.’

  Gabe and Emilie hug him but Rick doesn’t.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he says in a voice filled with regret. And the world ends.

  ~..~

  ~ Six Months Later ~

  Emilie’s working at a diner in Queens where it snows every year. When she first arrived she was stunned at the speed with which people had slipped back into the usual routine of life and with the way groups who fought together during the horror worked together just as well to clean up.

  It’s a part-time job and she enjoys it, which is surprising because she’s spent her whole life up until this point avoiding working as a waitress. Now she likes the constant flow of people, regulars and strangers, locals and tourists. She's good with people and the customers like her so her boss likes her too.

  During quiet times she sits at the bar and listens to the stories of those who sit with her. She listens to them and never tells her own. She likes Jake who works in the kitchen. He’s a couple of years older than her but she’s mature for her age and they get along. They’ve been on a couple of dates, nothing heavy, but sometimes they steal a kiss in the walk-in cold store and one day soon she’s going to take him back to her apartment and fuck his brains out.

  She still wants to see the world, but for now she’s happy just appreciating being alive. She’s surprised at how little she needs to do that.r />
  Gabe’s landed a little closer to home, in Nevada. The mere threat of the apocalypse isn’t enough to stop the roulette wheels spinning in Las Vegas. It took him a couple of days to cross the desert and by the time he stepped off the bus it was as if an army of cleaners had swept down the strip. No blood stains on the roads or the walls, smashed windows replaced, looted shops restocked, restaurants and bars back in business. Now that the crazy has passed everyone seems to have found faith in something. The casinos are running at full capacity and good staff are hard to find.

  He belongs here. It’s his kind of town. After five days spent learning how the politics of the casinos worked he walked into the Luxor in a bespoke Italian suit and landed a job as a croupier. Two days ago he was promoted to pit boss when the guy he was working for was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s still there, his hand. It’s a brutal town again now in a way it hasn’t been since the beginning. Some people have developed a new taste for that kind of thing. He’s okay. He keeps his head down, does what he’s told and no more. He dresses well and he’s good with the punters. He’s on first name terms with the casino manager and in a couple of years he aims to be running a casino of his own. But he’s not doing this just for himself, despite loving every second of it. He’s also doing it for Rick. Because he knows Rick didn’t make it.

  It took a couple of days after he got back to work out the meaning of those final words as they stood in the yard and said their goodbyes. He didn't believe it. He tried to find Rick, tried to contact him, using the Internet where no one can hide. But to no avail. He hopes he went to Heaven but in his heart he knows he went to Hell. He hopes it isn’t the terrible place he suspects it is.