The End of Everything Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3]

by Artinian, Christopher

  “Oh my god, that’s Jessica’s mum,” Robyn said as the woman convulsed on the ground.

  “And that’s Jessica,” Wren said, as one of the beasts pulled its mouth back from its victim. A chunk of bloody, spongy flesh dripped over its pallid chin as it ate in the bright afternoon sunshine. The two of them moved back from the window in fear of being seen. Both had the same look of horror on their faces. “I don’t want to end up like that.”

  Robyn turned Wren around to face her. “Neither of us will.”

  “I think we should stay here the night, get everything prepared, and head out at first light tomorrow.”

  Robyn looked out of the window. “There’s still plenty of daylight left.”

  “I know, but if we run into any problems and get stuck, we could still be in the city limits by nightfall, and that’s something I don’t want to risk.”

  “Good point,” Robyn nodded.

  “Have you thought about weapons?”

  “Wren, how long have we been sisters? I haven’t even thought about how I’m going to manage without Spotify. What kind of weapons were you thinking of?”

  “Well, we need something practical. Dad’s got loads of tools, and there’s some stuff in the shed, but we shouldn’t try to take anything that’s too heavy. He’s got a decent crowbar in the car…but something longer would be better. I don’t really want to have to get too close to one of those things,” Wren said.

  “You’ve thought all this out, haven’t you,” Robyn said, flopping down on the bed. A sad look had come over her face, and the previous good humour was gone.

  Wren sat down, placing her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “I’ve always been this way. Coach told me that...I forget the exact quote, but it’s something like ‘every battle’s won before it’s fought.’”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “It’s not really, Bobbi. Not when you think about it.”

  “It is. How does that make sense? I always thought that coach of yours was an arse.”

  “He wasn’t. He was a good coach. A bit of a perv, but a good coach,” Wren smiled.

  “A perv? Did he try anything?” Robyn asked, turning towards Wren and becoming the older sister once more.

  Wren laughed. “Erm, no, don’t be daft.”

  “Hey, I’ve told you before. You’re good looking. All my male friends think so. You shouldn’t be hard on yourself.”

  “No, I don’t mean because of that.” Wren placed her hands over her breasts. “He might have been interested…if I didn’t have these, and I had something else down there rather than what I’ve got. You understand now?” Wren asked, smiling.

  Robyn laughed, “Yeah, now I get it.”

  “How the hell did we get onto Coach Chaplin’s perving, anyway?”

  “Something about fought battles.”

  “Yeah. What it means is, planning is everything. We try and anticipate what we’ll need to do, what we’ll need to fight. That’ll give us our best chance for surviving.”

  “I think he said it came from that book, The Art of War. Y’know, the Sun Tzu one?”

  “Y’see, little sister. This is why you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Robyn said, smiling.

  “Better than being the school bike,” Wren said, breaking into a wide grin.

  “You cheeky little bitch,” Robyn growled, pretending to strangle her. They both laughed for longer than the joke deserved.

  “Are you okay?” Wren asked.

  “It doesn’t feel right to laugh.”

  “I was thinking the same, but I read somewhere it’s actually very common after a trauma. Humour is an excellent coping mechanism.”

  “You are such a nerdtard.”

  “Hey, so I read. Sue me. I’m proud that I can sit down with a book that doesn’t involve joining dots or finding Waldo.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Cow.”

  “Nerd.”

  “Slapper.” They started to giggle again. “Come on, we’d better get packed.”

  Within half an hour, Wren’s rucksack was ready to burst, packed with everything she could think of taking for any eventuality. “Bloody hell. What have you got in there?” Robyn asked, trying to lift the backpack off the bed, but struggling.

  “I got the little camp stove that we used to use when we went to the shore. Food from downstairs, a couple of bottles of water, too. I left another two bottles down there for you to carry. I’ve got some batteries, a small torch, Swiss Army Knife—”

  “Okay, okay! I was just saying it's flipping heavy. I didn’t actually want a frikkin’ list. God, what is it with you?”

  “Are you packed?”

  “Yep, all ready for tomorrow,” Robyn said, throwing her rucksack down on the bed next to Wren’s.

  Wren looked at it for a moment. “Erm, what exactly have you got in there?”

  “Everything I’ll need.”

  “It looks a bit light…” Wren opened it up. “You’ve got socks, knickers, t-shirts, tampons, a spare pair of jeans...you are kidding me, Bobbi. We’re not off on holiday! What is wrong with you? A frikkin’ Rebecca Minkoff shoulder bag. How the hell is that going to help you?”

  “I saved forever to get that. I used birthday and Christmas money. It’s my single most prized possession. You took your envelope; I don’t have anything that small.”

  Wren shook her head. “You said it yourself—prized possession. I didn’t pack that letter because of what it was, I packed it because of what it meant. It is a reminder and a memento of all the hard work I put in. All the things I hoped for in my life. This…” Wren said, holding up the smooth, beige leather bag, “is just a thing. It has no practical purpose for what we’re about to do.”

  “You’re wrong. That bag was something I worked hard for; it was something I really wanted. I went without lots of things to get that bag. I saved and saved and saved. I’ve never done that before. I always spent money on clothes and make-up as soon as I got it, but not with that bag. I’m not saying it’s as important as your accomplishments, Wren, I’m not an idiot. But I proved something to myself with that bag. I proved that I could be self-disciplined...you wouldn’t understand, it all comes so easily to you,” Robyn said sadly.

  “Nothing came easily. I had to work for everything. I was out training in all weather while you were still in bed. I would go to school, train all afternoon, then do my homework. I had zero social life; books ended up being my only friends because I knew what I wanted to do. I focussed on my goal, and look what I missed out on. The world’s gone and I never got to experience most of it. So, don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand about sacrifice,” Wren said, throwing the bag down onto the bed.

  “I didn’t mean it like that…. Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right, I suppose,” Robyn said, letting out a long sigh. “I did really love that bag.”

  Wren looked at her sister, then looked back down at the bag. “No, I get it. I’m sorry…. How about this…?” Wren picked up the bag and unhooked the four colour shoulder strap. “Pink, red, white and blue? bleugh!!!” She smiled and carefully hooked and wrapped the designer strap around one of the shoulder harnesses on the rucksack. She held it up to show Robyn. “See, we’ve both got reminders now.”

  Robyn smiled. “Thank you,” she said, more than a little embarrassed.

  “Come on, let’s get this rucksack packed properly.”

  chapter 3

  The next morning, Wren was awake at first light. She had set the alarm on her watch to take care of the final preparations before heading out. She had not slept much, as the sounds of the dying city around her kept bleeding into her dreams, but she had survived on less. She headed down the hallway to the bathroom, filled the sink and threw plenty of cold water over her face before washing with soap. She knew it would not be long before the water stopped running too, and she wondered if this would be the last ever time she enjoyed the luxury.

  Wren headed back down the hallway and into her sister’s room. “Bobbi.
..Bobbi,” she said, gently shaking her sister’s shoulder in an effort to rouse her.

  Robyn let out a small whine and turned over. “Five more minutes,” she said, her face pressing into the pillow.”

  “No...now,” Wren replied, whipping the warm quilt off her in one movement.

  “What the fuck???” Robyn shouted, jumping out of bed and facing up to Wren. “Don’t you dare do that to me!”

  Wren stepped back a little. “Hey. We need to go. This is an important day. I told you we needed an early start. I’m going to go make us breakfast, then we’re getting our stuff together and we’re out of here. Get over yourself, princess.”

  Robyn’s lip curled into something approaching a snarl. “Get out of my room now!”

  Wren turned and left. As she walked back along the landing, a self-satisfied smile swept across her face. She went down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, and suddenly, the smile disappeared.

  The light from the windows vanished. There stood her mum, crying. It was the night of the Prime Minister’s address. The one that changed everything. The one that had told them practically every country, all over the world, had fallen victim to this reanimating virus. People died and then they got up again, but not like they were before. They turned into these killing machines that were only interested in eating the flesh of the living and spreading the virus.

  Internet and mobile coverage had been really bad for months before. Cyber-attacks had crippled the world’s communications, and just when they thought it was sorted, another would hit, then another. It had not just been limited to communications. The power grid had been affected; in fact, most things had been affected. Some thought it was the Russians. Some thought it was the Chinese. Some thought it was the North Koreans. Some thought it was Islamic fundamentalists. Nobody really knew, and it was difficult to find blame. These attacks were on a global scale. The world had been struggling long before the Prime Minister’s speech, but the day before, during one of the spells of broken internet coverage, Wren remembered seeing some footage on YouTube of someone being pounced on by one of the reanimated corpses. It was horrific and bloody as the creature had sunk its teeth into the neck of its victim. The bitten woman had fallen, clutching her wound, before her arm fell limply to her side and she lay still. Within a few seconds, the woman was back on her feet, but not like before. Now there was a cheetah-like spring in her step. Now she was something else.

  When Wren had seen the clip, she thought it was part of an elaborate hoax, as did everybody else. More of them appeared online, but still, it seemed like the latest internet prank, a fake news Ice Bucket Challenge, or The Ten Year Challenge. This was the Zombie Challenge—create the scariest, most lifelike zombie attack video you can and pass it on. The internet was patchy again for the rest of the day, but most of the kids were talking about it in school. The following day, the internet was haywire again, but when the Prime Minister’s broadcast came on in the evening, Wren knew all the videos had been real. The world had in fact gone to hell.

  Wren had hugged and held her mum, but she was inconsolable. She had said, “All any parent wants is for their children to grow up in a better world than they did. Now there might not be a world at all.”

  A thud from upstairs dragged Wren back from her reminiscing. Most memories in this house were happy ones; she would be sorry to leave them behind, but there were some, like this one, she would be grateful never to be reminded of again. She made peanut butter sandwiches for their breakfast, and, looking at the remaining half loaf, decided to make peanut butter sandwiches with the rest of it, too. That would be their lunch when they stopped.

  Wren had packed some dried packets of couscous and some noodles. They were lighter than cans. She had also put a small saucepan in her rucksack; she knew Robyn would not even have thought of anything like that.

  Eventually, her sister joined her. “I need a coffee,” she said grumpily as she walked into the kitchen.

  “I can make you an iced coffee, minus the ice.”

  Robyn put her middle finger up and slumped onto the stool at the breakfast bar, crossing her arms on the marble effect surface and placing her forehead down on them. “It’s so early. The last time I got up at this time was when we went on holiday to Spain, three years ago.”

  “Stop moaning and eat your breakfast,” replied Wren, sliding the plate and a glass of water over to her. “I forgot how much fun you were in the morning.”

  Robyn brought her head up from the counter and extended her middle finger again. The two of them ate and drank in silence for a while. “Have you looked outside?”

  “Yeah. It looks like it’s going to be a nice day. At least we’re not going to get rained on,” Wren replied.

  “I didn’t mean that. I mean…it looks like any other day out there. There’s no sign of anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Other than a pool of blood in the centre of the road and a van on its side in one of our neighbour’s living rooms.”

  “Well, yeah, smart arse, but you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. I expected to see the street swimming with those things.”

  “Maybe it’s not as bad as we think. Maybe it’s being brought under control. I heard a lot of gunshots earlier on last night, did you?”

  “Yeah. You’d hope they’d bring the army in to help save the Scottish capital, wouldn’t you?” Wren said.

  “Problem is, the gunfire didn’t last for long, did it?”

  “I know.” The two of them went back to eating in silence for a while. “I want to go to the school.”

  “What? Why would you want to go back there? If there is something good to come about from this whole end of the world thing, it’s that we never have to go back to that dump.”

  “I’ve been thinking about weapons,” Wren replied. “I’ve packed us a crowbar, a couple of knives, a couple of long screwdrivers, but I was thinking about some of the stuff there. I think getting us a couple of javelins would be a really good idea.” She finished off her sandwich and put the plate in the bowl.

  “You are mental if you think I’m going back to that place just to break into the sports equipment shed.”

  “Think about it, Robyn. They’re over two metres long. If we come into contact with any of those things out there, do you want them to be close enough to bite you while you stick a knife in their face? Or do you want a two-metre gap while you spear them with a big metal spear?”

  Robyn took the final bite from her sandwich and pushed the plate over the countertop towards Wren. “Two metres back, I suppose, but if I have to face any of those things, I don’t rate my chances. I’m not the sporty type like you. I don’t have a lot of strength in my arms.”

  “Muscle can be built, technique can be learned. You’ve just got to have the right attitude,” Wren said, taking her sister’s plate and placing it in the washing up bowl on top of her own. “Get your stuff together. We’ll head out in five.”

  “Yes Commandant,” Robyn replied, rolling her eyes.

  Wren took one final look around the house while Robyn was getting ready. Was there anything else there that was portable and could help them? No. She had got everything the pair of them could physically carry that would be of any use. She heard feet coming down the stairs and went out into the hallway to meet her sister.

  “Ready?” Robyn asked.

  “You are not seriously heading out in that?”

  “What? What’s wrong with it?”

  “For a start, your jacket’s not waterproof, your jeans have got tears in them and you won’t get a mile in those boots without complaining your feet hurt. You should be wearing this kind of stuff,” said Wren gesturing to her own outfit.

  “Erm, what? The smelly hiker outfit? It’s going to be a sunny day. You said yourself. I don’t want to be wearing heavy stuff; I’ll sweat.”

  “At least find yourself a waterproof jacket, and change those boots to something more practical. We’re going to be covering over a hundre
d and fifty miles, a lot of it will be cross country.”

  “Oh I tell you what, why don’t you just come upstairs and pick my outfit for me?”

  “Why do you have to be like this? I’m trying to help.”

  “No, you’re trying to boss me around. You’re my younger sister. I don’t take orders from you.” Something approaching rage bled onto Robyn’s face, and Wren let out a long sigh.

  “Fine. Do what you want, but when you can’t walk in those boots anymore, I’m leaving you behind. You can make your own way to Grandad’s place.”

  Robyn thought about saying something back for a moment, but just puffed and flared her nostrils before stomping back up the stairs. Wren waited, adjusting the strap on her rucksack, and practising some movements just to gauge how much physical freedom she had carrying something so heavy. It was a few minutes before Robyn came back down the stairs.

  “There,” she said, gesturing towards her leather jacket, leather trousers and trainers. “Happy now, dork?”

  Wren shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. All that matters now is practicality.”

  “Whatever,” replied Robyn, picking up her rucksack. “What the f—” she said, as the strain of the weight took her off guard. “What have you put in my rucksack? I’m not carrying that weight. Give me yours, I’ll carry that,” she said, gesturing for Wren to hand the other rucksack over to her. Wren smiled and did as she was asked. Robyn stumbled forward and the rucksack fell to the floor. “What have you got in these? Jesus!”

  “I’ve got the things we’re going to need, Robyn. We don’t know what’s going to happen; we need to make sure we’re prepared. They’ll get lighter as time goes on. There’s food in them. Over time, I’ll figure out about catching our own food and stuff, but right now, what we’ve got in our rucksacks could be the difference between living and dying.”