Until the End of the World (Book 1)

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  CHAPTER 32

  The tables from our two sites have been moved together. I guess this means we’re a group, and I like it. Penny and James help unload. Ana and Peter don’t.

  “Wow,” Penny says. “Nice haul.”

  “How’d it go?” James asks.

  “Well, Cassie was asked for her hand in marriage and we got lots of food,” Nelly says. “So, all in all, it was pretty good.”

  Penny and James look at me, but I just shrug and unload while I listen to Nelly tell them the story. He’s playing it up, too. Pretty soon he’ll have Greg down on one knee. It’s afternoon, and camp is quiet after dividing our stuff. I look through my pack, tired of listening to the radio, and pull out my book.

  “Of course you brought a book,” Nelly says.

  I hold up my old copy of A Walk in the Woods. “Actually, I brought two. This seemed like it might be fitting. And I could use a laugh.”

  I throw Nelly the other book and he reads the title aloud. “Tom Brown’s Field Guide to Wilderness Survival.”

  “Seemed fitting as well,” I say.

  Henry and the kids are getting firewood for the fire we’re having tonight. So far there’s no one at the campground, and the Washingtons have marshmallows. The kids crash through the woods and drop their loads at the fire pit. Henry follows and smiles at Dottie.

  “What a racket, children of mine,” she says. “We need to get in the habit of moving quietly.” Her voice is serious, but she softens it with a smile. They nod.

  Corrine plugs her iPod into her ears and then groans. “It’s dead! Dad said I couldn’t use the car to charge it. Now what am I going to do?”

  “Read a book?” offers Hank. Corrine looks at him like he’s told her to eat a bug. “Oh, that’s right,” he smirks, “you’re too stupid to read a book.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re the dumb one, Hank. You think dead people are walking around.”

  “They are! I was right. Dad told me. They don’t want you to know because you act like a baby and will be all like, ‘Oh my God, I’m so scared, wah wah wah.’ ” He grins as she whips her head around to her father in fright.

  Henry gives Hank a look that could kill and kneels at her feet. “Corrie, baby, we think it may be true. We don’t understand why. It’s a virus, like a parasite.” Her eyes well up with tears, and she shakes her head.

  Henry’s voice is steady as he holds her arms and looks into her eyes. “It’s no different than it was before. I know it seems scarier, but it’s still the same situation. And we’ll be okay. I’m going to make sure of it.”

  She grabs her dad in a hug and sobs. Then she realizes that she’s not acting like the teenager she wants to be and lets go. She tries to look calm, but her hands are shaking.

  “I think we can spare a little battery time for charging up your iPod,” Dottie says. She leads Corrine to the car with an arm around her shoulders and a gentle murmur.

  CHAPTER 33

  Penny cuts open one of the brown MRE pouches and dumps an assortment of smaller pouches and cardboard containers onto the table.

  She lifts them up one by one and reads aloud. “Sloppy joe, wheat snack bread.” She turns the little square plastic pouch over. “How do they get bread in here? Fudge brownie. Oh, look!”

  She opens a little bag that contains utensils, a napkin, matches and gum, and pulls out a tiny bottle of Tabasco. “How cute is this?” It’s a dollhouse-sized bottle and we all admire it. It really is cute.

  “Ooh, can I eat one of those, Mom?” Corrine asks.

  Dot shakes her head. “We have to eat the stuff that will spoil first. I’m sure you’ll be sick of those in no time.”

  Corrine pouts, but Penny hands her the Tabasco with a wink. Corrine thanks her and sits smiling at its tininess in her palm.

  “They’re not very good. I had a couple a long time ago,” I say to Corrine. My dad had gotten some once and finally let me and Eric try them after we bothered him about it for days. “Promise.”

  My cheese tortellini tastes like Chef Boyardee, but it smells better than the meat. That reminds me of dog food, although James says it doesn’t taste like it. I don’t want to know how he knows that for sure. But it’s nice to have food that doesn’t waste stove fuel. You just add water and drop the bag into a pouch, and the chemical reaction heats it up.

  “This is disgusting.” Ana makes a noise and pushes hers away. “I’m not eating it.”

  “Some of the stuff in there isn’t bad,” Penny says. She roots around Ana’s MRE pouch and pulls out a chocolate energy bar and applesauce.

  Ana hits them out of her hand and they thud on the table. “I said I’m not eating it!”

  She stalks off to the vault toilets with Penny muttering at her back. We all watch her go, except Peter, who eats a few more bites and then pushes his away, too. “Can’t say I blame her,” he says. Then he rises and leaves his food sitting there so that someone else has to clean it up.

  ***

  I’ve taken the kids to find perfect marshmallow roasting sticks in the woods bordering our sites.

  “It’s got to be green, so it doesn’t burn. And thin. I’ll make a point on it with my knife when we get back,” I say, as we scour the ground and trees.

  They seem to have made up. I remember how brutal Eric and I could be to each other, and then a half an hour later we’d be playing together like nothing happened. Thinking of Eric makes me quiet.

  “Are you okay, Cassie?” asks Corrine.

  “I’m fine.” Those pretty eyes of hers are as observant as her brother’s. “I was thinking of my little brother. I hope he’s okay. He’s going to meet me where we’re going.”

  She points into the distance. “Is he out there?”

  “Yeah.” She looks worried. “I’m sure he’s fine. Eric’s pretty amazing at everything. He’ll find me.”

  She nods like she’s not concerned, but as we’re walking back to camp she takes Hank’s hand for a minute, and he lets her. The fire burns merrily as I whittle their sticks, and they impale their marshmallows to get the perfect toast. We enjoy the warmth while the sun sets, licking sticky marshmallow off our fingers. I wish we could keep the fire going all night.

  Nelly and I take first watch. “Maybe they should share a tent,” I say, about Peter and Ana. “Peter’s got to start acting human. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Seriously,” Nelly says. “I’m about to take him aside for a little man-to-man talk.”

  “You mean a man-to-brat talk.”

  My sympathy for Peter is receding at an alarming rate. I know I could have found a better way of ending things, but I’m trying. Every smile I give him gets a cold stare, every word I say he either ignores or rolls his eyes. I’m getting angry now. He’s thirty years old, not three.

  “That I do,” Nelly agrees. “If for no other reason than the safety of his own hide, he should be pulling his weight.”

  I feel a little better by the time we wake James and Penny and crawl into our sleeping bag. We got an extra one today, but I left it outside for whoever’s on watch. I kind of like sleeping with Nelly, anyway. I don’t want to be cold and alone in my own sleeping bag. I have a sneaking suspicion that Nelly feels the same, not that he’d ever admit it.

  CHAPTER 34

  “What’s so funny?” Nelly asks.

  “Hm?” I say, warm and cozy in our bag. The tent walls glow blue from the morning light. I finally feel rested, despite the rock that’s been jabbing me in the ribs all night. I’d been having that same dream about Adrian.

  “You were laughing in your sleep.”

  I smile, still half asleep. “A dream about Adrian. The same one I had last week. We were at the house.”

  Something pokes me in my ribs, and I move away from the rock. “I miss him. If I just knew he was okay, I’d—ow!”

  This time Nelly pinches me out of my stupor in time to hear Peter unzip the tent door and storm out.

  “Crap,” I say. “Crap. Crap. Crap.”
I burrow into Nelly’s armpit in the sleeping bag. “Did he hear me?” I know he must have, but I’m hoping that by some miracle he didn’t.

  “Every word.”

  Leave it to Nelly to give you the unadulterated truth. Sometimes I wish he would just lie. I burrow deeper, but the smell drives me back out.

  “Nelly, your armpit stinks.”

  “You don’t exactly smell like a rose yourself.”

  I take a sniff and grunt. It’s true. I prop my head on my hand and sigh. He shakes his head, like I’ve done it again.

  “What should I do? Should I say something?” I ask. Nelly’s good at this stuff.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know, Cass. This is one of those times where it may be better to say nothing. What are you going to say? Sorry for having a dream about my ex-fiancé? It might just make it worse.”

  “You are no help, Nels.”

  I stick my head back into the bag, smell or no smell. The ball of tension in my stomach gets heavier. I wish I had kept my mouth shut. I know it would have hurt my feelings if I were Peter. And on top of it all, I feel stupid that Peter heard me. All the feelings I’ve kept to myself for two years were just handed to him on a platter. I cringe at the thought. I’d like to hide in here all day, but I really have to pee, so I may as well bite the bullet.

  Nelly gives me a sympathetic grimace as I leave the tent. When I get back I join Peter, who’s brushing his teeth at the water containers. I bring my toothbrush over and rack my brain for something to say. Finally, I decide to keep it simple but heartfelt.

  “I’m really sorry, Peter,” I say. “I…”

  I know he hears because he looks right at me. He spits out his toothpaste venomously and wipes his mouth before he stalks away. I feel like all I’ve done is say sorry to him. I feel like shit. And I wonder if I’m a horrible person, since I always, always seem to fuck things up.

  CHAPTER 35

  “You are not a horrible person and you don’t always fuck things up,” Penny says, as we fill the water containers at the stream.

  “You have to say that, by law, as my friend.”

  “Not true.” She makes gentle splashes in the water with her bare feet. “As your friend I’m duty-bound to tell you when you’re being a jerk, and you’re not. You can’t help how you feel. I mean, yeah, he didn’t really need to hear your dream. He was acting like an ass before that, though. You were going to break up with him anyway. You can’t be expected to stay with him when you don’t want to because of all of this.”

  I peel off my socks and stick my feet in the water. After getting a good whiff of myself, I feel extra grubby. “I guess. I just hate tension, especially when I’ve caused it. I wish I could make things better. Or not care. God, this water is freezing! I brought soap to wash up, but I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Maybe you just have to let him work it out, Cass. Just be extra nice for a while. I mean, it is possible that Peter can turn normal suddenly, right?”

  “Ha, unlikely. But I will be nice.” I fold my hands in prayer. “I’ll be like Mother Teresa.”

  Penny laughs and grabs the soap. “I’m doing it. I’m going to wash this stinky body. Come with me. I need moral support.”

  She’s lost her mind. The air is fairly warm, but the water is snowmelt, and I’m a huge baby about cold water.

  “You can have the towel first. It’ll be all nice and warm. Please?” she wheedles. “I’ll be your best friend. Until the end of the world.”

  She makes sure the coast is clear and peels off her shirt.

  “You have someone to smell good for. That’s why you don’t care that it’s twelve degrees!”

  “Duh.” She shrugs and grins. “Please?”

  She can usually get me to do things by begging, and she knows it. I give in because it’s only cold water and I’m thankful she’s made me feel better.

  “Fine, I’ll do it. But only because I love you.”

  I take off my clothes. My legs go numb as I step gingerly over the rocks in the little pool.

  Penny plunges under and comes up howling. “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

  I shake my head. “I don’t love you that much.”

  I splash with tiny amounts of water to rinse the soap and race to the towel. It might be warm, but since I can no longer feel my skin I can’t really tell. I dry off haphazardly. Penny soaps herself up and even washes her hair. She must be in love. I lay the towel on a sunny rock and wrestle my damp skin back into my dirty clothes.

  Penny comes up behind me wrapped in the towel and breathing hard. “Whew! That felt good.”

  “You’re insane.”

  But I have to admit, now that I’m warming up it feels good to be sort of clean. I load up the water while Penny gets dressed and hums to herself. God, I love her. She’s like the antithesis of Ana, the anti-Ana.

  CHAPTER 36

  I change my shirt and stick my clean armpit in Nelly’s face. He responds with some sort of comment about how mature I am, but since I’m rubber and he’s glue it doesn’t stick. I offer Peter a tentative smile, which he ignores. That’s okay. I’m going to smile at him until my cheeks crack.

  “…nothing now,” mutters Henry.

  “What’s that?” asks James, who’s propped up against a tree with the iPad, his head wreathed in cigarette smoke. We charged it up in the car while heading to Sam’s Surplus, but of course there’s no service here, or possibly anywhere, at this point. Penny sits at the table next to Ana and brushes her wet hair.

  Henry holds the little radio up and repeats himself as we watch him spin the dial. “There are no news broadcasts today. Just those recordings, only now they’re listing something called Safe Zones instead of treatment areas.”

  “Hey, Sergeant Grafton in Jersey said something about it being changed from a treatment area into a Safe Zone,” I say.

  James lifts his eyebrows. “Yeah, that worked out well.”

  “There’s nothing on AM or FM,” Henry says. “Maybe I could find something if we had a shortwave radio, but I’ve had it on since early this morning and I haven’t heard a single update.”

  Henry hands over the radio and watches as James spins the dial and shakes his head. They try the police radio in the truck, but it’s dead silent.

  “Maybe the power’s off. You can’t broadcast without power,” Penny says.

  Henry rubs his chin. “If there’s no power at all, then things are worse than I thought.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be that surprised,” Penny says. “Either everyone is panicking and leaving or panicking and staying home. How many people do you think are going to go to work?”

  “I once read that the average power station would only supply energy for twelve to twenty-four hours, unmanned. After that it would begin to shut down on its own,” James says, ever the font of information.

  “No power means no water and food going bad,” Henry says. “Which means hungry people. How long until the stores are cleared out? Man, people will do anything when they’re hungry. They’ll kill for food in a second, they’ll take—”

  “Little pitchers have big ears,” Dottie says, cutting Henry off.

  We turn to where the kids sit on the ground. They had been looking through my wilderness survival book, but now they’re watching us, the book forgotten in Hank’s lap. Corrine fights back tears.

  “Daddy?” she says, like a little girl. “I like it here. Can’t we stay here where it’s safe?”

  Hank sits down on the bench and beckons them over. The lines on his face look deeper; he no doubt wishes he could take his last words back. Corinne and Hank could be toddlers by the expressions on their faces, complete with tear tracks through the dust on Corinne’s cheeks.

  “I feel safe here too, baby. But we have to leave soon. I think more people will come, looking for somewhere safe. And sometimes people will want what we have.”

  “But we met Penny and Cassie and everyone. They’re all nice,” Corrine says.

  Henry smil
es. “Weren’t we lucky? And I’ll bet lots of other people are nice, too. But we can’t take chances. Not when I have to protect you and your mother and Hank. We have to make it somewhere safer than this.”

  “I’m scared, Daddy.”

  Henry hugs her to him with one arm and closes his eyes. “We all are, baby. Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It just means you do what you have to do.”

  Hank leans into his father and nods. “I’m scared too, Corr. But I can teach you all about zombies and how to fight them. You’ve got to get the head, because the brain—”

  I don’t think a detailed description of the undead is going to help, so I jump in. “Hey, guys, I saw you looking at my book. Did you see the section on walking quietly in the woods and tracking animals?” They nod. “Why don’t you practice that? That’s a good skill to have. And I just remembered something I have in my pack that I want to show you. A real survival tool.”

  At Henry’s nod they retrieve the book and read it to each other as they move carefully in the brush, rolling their feet with each step. When I come out of the tent, Henry stands there.

  “Thanks,” he says. “I didn’t want to yell at Hank, since he’s trying to help. But the last thing Corrie needs is a blow-by-blow account of how to kill them. We do need to talk about leaving, though. Maybe after you’re done with the kids?” He gestures at the long pouch I’m holding. “What is that, anyway?”

  “Come see. It’s pretty cool.”

  I had forgotten I threw this in the bottom of my bag. I knew it was silly to do it, as it was taking up precious space, but I couldn’t leave it behind. I kneel down at the edge of the campsite and clear a patch of dirt with my hand. Then I take a pointy-edged dowel, a square piece of wood, a rock and what looks like a tiny bow out of the pouch. Corrine and Hank kneel across from me.

  “It looks like a little bow,” she says. “What do you do with it?”

  “You’re right, it is a little bow. It’s called a bow drill. You use it to start fires when you don’t have matches. Only really, really hardcore survivalists can start fires without lighters,” I inform them, and do my best to look very serious.