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

by Artinian, Christopher

  “Gross. Catching our own food. You think you’re that guy Tom Hanks played? Who was it? Robinson Crusoe. You think you’re him? We’re not on a desert island y’know.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin with putting right what you just said,” Wren said, picking her rucksack back up and placing it over her shoulders. She walked straight past Robyn and unlocked the back door. “Are you ready?”

  “Why are we going out the back way?”

  “Because we’re heading to the school, and the fastest way is over the back fence, across McIntyre’s field and through the park,” replied Wren. “Unless you’d like to head out of the front door and walk through a big housing estate. I tell you what. You do that, and I’ll meet you there in say,” Wren looked at her watch, “Never.”

  “Fuuuccckkk yooouuu!!!”

  Wren put her middle finger up before stepping out into the cool morning air.

  Robyn stayed in the hall for a moment. This journey was going to be a nightmare. Butterflies were already flapping around in her stomach like they were caught in a twister, and she was taking orders from her nerdy little sister. She let out a long breath and began to follow her. “Wait for me,” she said as she got outside and pulled the door to.

  Wren whipped around angrily, “Shhh!” she said, gesturing for her to keep her voice low.

  And so it begins, Robyn thought, as she followed Wren up the back garden path. The garden was enclosed with six-foot-high panel fencing, but the section to the right had sustained damage in the last heavy winds and several of the slats had blown off or shifted position, meaning they could see their neighbour’s garden and vice versa. Thankfully, at five twenty-five a.m., there was not much to see. They got to the end of the path and Wren took off her rucksack. It took a couple of goes, but she eventually summoned the strength to push it up, then over the fence. It thudded as it hit the long grass on the other side. She gestured for Robyn to hand her the other rucksack and managed to get that one over with greater ease.

  “You go first.”

  “Okay,” Wren replied, grabbing hold of the top of the tall fencing and pulling herself up deftly before placing one hiking boot on top and jumping down the other side.

  The main reason Robyn had wanted her sister to go first was to see how she did it. Having watched her, she was less confident than ever. She grabbed the top of the fence and jumped up; her feet immediately swung inwards, smashing through one of the panels and getting stuck. She lost her grip on the top of the fence and, like a huge pendulum, fell back. She landed with a thump on her dad’s vegetable patch. Robyn looked towards her feet as they dangled through the broken panel of the fence. She almost screamed when Wren’s face came into view. It was contorted with fits of laughter.

  “Don’t laugh! Help me!” demanded Robyn, as loudly as she dared. She tried to wiggle her feet loose, but the panel was sharp and she did not want to risk cutting herself. “Help me,” she said again.

  When Wren finally brought her laughter under control, she knelt down. Now the structure of the fence was weakened, she removed five horizontal panels, not just freeing Robyn’s feet, but making a gap big enough for her to crawl through. “Come on,” she said, gesturing for her sister to climb through.

  Robyn refused to speak for some time after that. They crossed the field and got through the park with no effort at all. They did not see a single person or creature, other than birds and squirrels. For the rest of nature, life was going on as normal. There was a new apex predator, but nothing that would bother them; in fact, it would probably help them. Wren remembered watching a documentary about what would happen to cities if humans died out. Nobody ever thought it could possibly happen, but now it looked like it was a fairly safe bet. In the programme, the cities gradually gave way to nature once more. Creeping vines grew around buildings, weeds cracked through roads and pavements and over years and decades, nature reclaimed huge swathes of industrialised land. So, now, as she looked at the squirrels and the birds whose habitat had become steadily smaller and more toxic by the year, she wondered if in fact there were some winners in this thing.

  “Okay, stop,” Wren said crouching down and signalling for Robyn to do the same. They were behind a thick growth of shrubbery near the main entrance to the park. Across the road was a huge recreation ground known as the Rec, with a football pitch, a rugby pitch, an all-weather pitch and a makeshift athletics track that Wren had trained on many times. To the right and left of the huge sports field were houses, and at the far end were changing and equipment rooms. Beyond those was the beginning of the school complex.

  “So, we just hop over the road then cross that massive open expanse that’s right in the middle of two big housing estates. Great idea...not!”

  “It’s not ideal, but see how you feel when we come face to face with one of those things and all you’ve got is a screwdriver and a knife...y’know what, in fact, screw it. I’m already sick to death of you. You stay here,” Wren said, slipping off her rucksack and peeling off her jacket, revealing a black vest. She pulled out the crowbar from the side of her pack and opened up a small pouch, taking out a Swiss army knife, which she placed in her pocket.

  “What? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Robyn demanded.

  “I’m not putting up with your Prima Donna shit anymore. You want to come up with the ideas, come up with the ideas, but this is the best plan we’ve got. Stay here with the rucksacks. If you see anything, run...or climb a tree, I don’t care. I’m going to get what we came here for.”

  “Hey!” Robyn said, beginning to stand, but it was already too late.

  Wren began to sprint towards the park entrance. She was across the road and moving down the centre of the Rec before Robyn had managed to shuffle out of the straps of her rucksack. For a split second, she forgot why they were there and was about to shout after her younger sister. But then she caught herself and ducked down again. “I’m going to murder the little bitch,” she muttered to herself. Robyn looked around the park; it was only small compared to some the city had, but it was too big to be exposed like she was. She shoved both rucksacks under the shrubbery and kept down, only occasionally pricking her head up to do a quick scan of the area. “Damn you, Wren.”

  Wren could not keep sprinting speed up for long; she just wanted to make sure there was no way her sister had a hope of running after her. She continued at a steadier pace down the centre of the track, looking from side to side at the surrounding houses. How many times had footballs or rugby balls ended up in these back gardens? As exposed as it was, and it was exposed, she was not overly concerned about being seen. It was before six a.m. and it would be the streets and front gardens that were the danger zone. Whatever else the zombies were, they did not strike her as big horticulturists.

  Wren slowed down as she approached the changing room and equipment shed. The wooden door to the boys changing room had been smashed in. She came to a stop and turned three hundred and sixty degrees, making sure there was no movement, making sure she had not caught the attention of one of those beasts. It was all clear, and the sun continued to rise, making the dew glisten magically. She turned her attention back to the changing room and took a deep breath before taking the crowbar in her right hand. She swung it around a little, getting a feel for the weight of it before stepping into the dim interior.

  She had been in the girl’s changing room a thousand times, maybe even more, but had never ventured onto this side of the building. The layout was exactly the same. A large Perspex skylight allowed the early morning sun to wander in. Without even realising, she had been holding her breath walking through the door, but now, as no zombies came hurtling towards her, she let out a long breath. She nearly gagged as she breathed in again as the smell of urine overcame her. “Eugh! Gross!” she said, as she walked around the corner to the shower area. The smell became even stronger as the open shower had obviously been used as a toilet by vandals. Spray paint decorated the walls with the names of teachers and pupils.
Who was fit, who wanted to do what to who, who needed a good this, who needed a good that. “Simpletons,” she spat, before heading back out and taking a deep breath of fresh morning air.

  Wren walked around the back of the building to the girls’ changing room. The door was intact, but she felt no urge to go in. She remembered the stale, mildewy smell without stepping foot any closer. The equipment shed was a brick annexe next to the entrance to the girls’ changing room. Wren paused for a moment and looked left, beyond the edge of the Rec, and down the slope to the school grounds. She’d never been a fan of the school. She did not like the building, nor did she care for the teachers particularly. She hardly had any friends because of her rigorous training schedule, but in fairness, even if she hadn’t been so involved in training, it was unlikely she would have had many. She was not a sociable type; she was not a team player. She had always been a loner. That’s why she ran track instead of joining a team sport. But the one thing that she knew she would miss about the place was learning.

  Despite her lonely state, school brought her happiness because she could fill her head with knowledge. She would miss that; she would miss...she would miss Mairi Baker, the head librarian. The school building was attached to the local public library and to most, Miss Baker was a crotchety old spinster who disliked people, disliked children even more—but loved books. For some reason, she’d taken a real shine to Wren; she saw a kindred spirit in her. One of Wren’s proudest moments was when Miss Baker, who never got involved in any school or community activities, actually travelled to see Wren in an athletics competition. Yes, she would miss Mairi Baker. She hoped she was safe, and if she was not, she hoped that she did not suffer.

  Wren jerked out of her daydream and turned back towards the red-painted wooden door. None of the equipment within was modern; all the expensive items were kept down at the gymnasium, so a lock and a padlock were sufficient deterrents. Wren fed the crowbar through the hasp of the padlock and began to pull hard. The wood underneath chipped and then there was the sound of splitting wood as the screw plate snapped, falling to the cement steps along with the padlock. Wren carefully placed the straight edge of the crowbar in the small gap between the door and the door frame, just above the lock. She levered it from side to side, breaking wood on both the door and the frame, allowing her to get the bar in even deeper. She continued until she felt the lock itself begin to give. She dug the crowbar in deeper still, then pulled with all her strength. There was an ear-splitting crack, and the door flew open, revealing a bounty of footballs, hockey sticks, rounders bats, shots, discuses and there, right at the back, javelins. Wren climbed over the other equipment and grabbed two of the newest looking ones. She stumbled back out of the equipment shed and leant them against a wall before she reached back inside for one of the hockey sticks.

  Wren stepped off the paving slabs surrounding the brick building, and onto the grass. She had played hockey a couple of times, but it was not for her. She liked the game, but the whole team thing…being told what to do had never suited her that much. She regarded the hockey stick as she held it up in her hands. She gauged the weight like she had done with the crowbar earlier. It felt good. It felt like it would also make a decent weapon if she was in a tight spot. Maybe she would take this for herself and the javelin for Robyn. She continued to swing, left and right, and a smile crept onto her face as confidence grew with this newfound weapon. She loved the whooshing sound it made as it swept through the cool morning air. It gave her a real feeling of power. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Then suddenly, she heard something else...a growling sound. She stumbled back onto the paving slabs and her back hit the brick wall of the building as she tried to zero in on the source of the sound. The growl got louder and her head whisked from side to side; she could feel her body tense and she looked down at her knuckles as they turned white around the hockey stick handle. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and let out a breath of relief as she saw a dog’s tail, then its hindquarters, then the dog’s head.

  “Hello there, boy,” she said, crouching down, but the dog ignored her. He continued to growl. She moved towards him; he cast a quick glance in her direction then turned around and began to run full speed down the hill towards the school. Wren edged towards the corner of the building and remained there for a few seconds before casting a glance around the side. One of the reanimated creatures was about thirty metres back. For the time being it was not looking in her direction, but there was no way she could get back to the park without passing it.

  She brought her head back around quickly and rested it against the cold brick. Wren looked towards the broken door. Had the noise attracted it? She looked at the hockey stick again, then back down at the javelins. They had a much longer reach, and now she was so close to one of those things again, the bravado had left her. The longer reach the better, she thought. She placed the stick down and reached for the two javelins. Weight was not an issue; at just eight hundred grams each, it was not an exertion for Wren to carry two of them, but they were cumbersome. No, it would be stupid to try and outrun the creature while carrying two javelins, which left just one option. She could feel the adrenaline begin to surge through her system. She put one of the javelins against the wall and walked with the other to the edge of the changing room building once again. She put her head around the corner, but now there was no sign of the creature she had seen. She edged out a little farther, but still, there was nothing. Slowly she walked along the side of the building, holding the javelin out in front of her like a mediaeval pike-man. She reached the front and drew the javelin back in as she peeked her head around the corner. Nothing. Maybe he’s gone into the open changing room. Maybe she could make a run for it without the creature being any the wiser.

  Wren quickly headed back round to grab the other javelin. She was almost running by the time she reached the corner, and that’s when she came face to face with it. Although she had witnessed her dad turn and her mum get bitten, she had never seen one of these creatures head-on. Her mouth dropped open and she forgot how to breathe in that instant. Terror gripped her in its icy tendrils; she could feel her heart expand and contract, expand and contract, as suddenly her body needed more oxygen than ever. Eventually, she inhaled a quaking gasp of air, and her own sound jolted her out of the split-second freeze-frame. The creature let out a fearsome growl as it jerked forward to run the few feet between itself and Wren. In life it had been a shop assistant; it still wore the uniform, albeit tattered and bloody. The pallid complexion was a shade lighter than the filmy grey eyes, but it was the jet pupils that entranced Wren as the creature beat a path towards her. Like a drop of black paint on white—a shattered ink drop on glistening snow, they flared, sending shivers through every fibre of her body.

  By accident more than deliberate action, the javelin speared the beast in the stomach, somehow finding the spine. Wren felt something crack, and the beast collapsed to the ground, coming to rest on its side. Still it tried to drag itself towards its new-found prey. Wren backed away and the creature continued to claw and slither across the pavement and grass towards her dragging the javelin along, growling and gurgling as it moved.

  Wren walked backwards, watching it every step of the way. It continued to follow her. She guessed its spinal column had been severed, as the beast’s legs now seemed completely immobile, but that did nothing to halt its resolve. She headed around the side of the building and continued to reverse slowly. Fear still possessed her, and as she saw the grey fingers of the creature emerge from around the corner, another in a long line of shivers ran down her spine. The beast looked almost comical as it tried to move with the long skewer protruding from its stomach, but the comedy was lost on Wren for the time being as she watched the beast bare its teeth and thick globules of saliva dribble from its mouth.

  When she had led it two metres down the side of the building, she turned and ran, blocking out the gurgling growls and the scraping sound of the javelin against the paving slabs as best she could.
She turned the corner, ran, turned again, ran and turned again. She was back at the equipment shed. Wren climbed back in and grabbed another javelin before reaching for the one she had leant against the wall. She had no desire to see that creature one last time. It was useless now; it would live out the rest of its days a crawling, struggling monstrosity, but it could not harm her anymore.

  She did not look back to the changing rooms for old time’s sake as she ran across the field towards the park. She sang a little song in her head until she was far enough away not to hear the growls and the scraping. A tear ran down her face. Over one hundred and fifty miles to travel; she had barely got out of her front yard and she had almost died. Sadness overcame her, and the first tear was joined by another, then another. This really was the end of everything.

  chapter 4

  Wren slowed down as she reached the end of the Rec. She did not want her sister to see that she had been crying. As much as Robyn angered and irritated her, she did not want to share her fear. She did not have Wren’s resolve, and to fuel her negativity at the beginning of such a long trek would be counter-productive. They had to make this journey, no matter what, so why make it harder on herself?

  Wren looked at her watch; it was just past six o’clock. Normally at this time, some people would be making their trip to work. The newsagents would be opening. Taxis and buses would be breaking the early morning quiet, pumping the first of their blue/grey exhaust fumes into the cool air. Wren knew this because she often saw the city waking up. She had usually been training for an hour or thereabouts when the suburbs began to ripple with life.

  She wiped the last of her tears away, took a deep breath and ran across the road, careful not to let either of the javelins drag on the ground and make noise. Her heart began to race again when she looked towards the spot she had left Robyn and could see no sign of her, but as she got closer, she saw a figure crouched down by the thick growth of shrubs.