After The End

by Jamie Campbell

  Spiders have been having a field day and spun webs everywhere they can. I don’t want to think about all the bugs that have made a home here. As long as they don’t crawl over me, I can pretend they don’t exist.

  I stand in front of an exhibit and wipe the dust from the plaque. It explains about the history of the earth and how long ago dinosaurs lived. The world ended then too and it bounced back into something different. That’s almost like what happened with the meteorite. We’re still too early in the recovery phase to know if we’ll make it or not.

  It must have been really nice to learn about all these kinds of things. My parents insisted on giving me educational sessions every day but they couldn’t cover everything. Their specialty was science so they taught me a lot about that. I guess history wasn’t really big on the need-to-know list when life is all about survival.

  I can imagine school groups coming through these massive halls and absorbing everything they saw. History is important. We don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Next time there is a meteorite about to strike the earth, we really should build some ships and fly into space.

  The others lose interest in the exhibits and their wanderings become supply-seeking missions. I’m content to take it all in. I want to know everything there is about dinosaurs and the Middle Ages, and kings and queens, and everything in between. The world seemed like a magical place in the past.

  The curators of this museum would probably cry if they saw the condition it is currently in. The number of cobwebs is frightening. Even if there was only one spider to each web, we would be outnumbered thousands to one.

  I’m going to try to not think about the spiders.

  The next exhibit has collapsed. A massive pile of bones lie on a podium with rotting rope around it. The plaque said it was a woolly mammoth. I can only imagine what it once looked like. It was probably really cool.

  I lose track of the others as they go ahead. I’ve got the place to myself and I actually really enjoy it. If we had more time, I would love to spend a few days here. I miss all the books I left behind in the bunker and being here is like the books are alive.

  The voices of Garlind, Rhys, and Sarah occasionally float to my ears but they don’t sound panicked. If there is no trouble afoot, there is no reason why I should hurry to catch up with them.

  I go from room to room and read every plaque I find. My hands soon grow completely dirty but it’s worth it. My parents would have loved this place. Maybe they even came here once? Anything is possible.

  My wanderings do eventually lead me to catch up with the group. They have found a small room on the second level. There are no exhibits in here.

  “Hey, you made it,” Garlind teases with a smile. I’m so glad we’re back to being normal again. I couldn’t go another day without speaking with him.

  “This place is amazing,” I reply. I want to show him about a hundred different things I discovered here.

  “It is. We found some guns.” He holds up a small black pistol as proof. This can’t be part of the display. “We think this is the security guard station. These were hidden in a safe.”

  “And the safe was just hanging open?”

  “No, locked tight. Luckily, we’ve got an ace safe-cracker here.”

  My gaze goes to Rhys and Sarah as I try to work out which one of them could possibly know how to open a locked safe. The door seems to be intact so it couldn’t have been opened with brute force. That only leaves some serious skills.

  “Sarah?” I venture. The little girl grins at me but shakes her head, no. “Rhys?”

  The boy crosses his arms over his chest, very satisfied with himself. “That’s right, just call me the Master Cracker. Turns out I’m not useless after all.”

  “We never thought you were, Rhys,” I say. I wish he wouldn’t make comments like that. It’s not his fault he was shot. It could have been any of us.

  Garlind places the gun he was holding on the table. “There are six in total and they look to be in good condition. I think the safe helped to preserve them. There’s ammunition too. We can see if they work when we get outside.”

  “They’ll work,” Sarah declares boldly. If the eight-year-old gun expert says they’ll work, they’ll work. I’m certain she’ll be able to shoot us all under the table.

  “Did you find anything else in this place?” I ask. I can tell them exactly where to find the medieval swords but they probably won’t be as effective as the guns.

  Garlind holds up a finger and indicates for me to wait. He crosses the room to a small cupboard and opens it up. He hands me a heavy black vest. “Kevlar vests. They can stop bullets.”

  “Our own armor,” I say, immediately thinking of the aliens’ protection. Our bodies might be vulnerable but we can wear protective vests.

  “They’re a bit heavy but I think they’ll come in handy. There’s enough for each of us. Sarah’s will be too big, obviously.”

  “I’m tough, I can wear it,” she pipes up. She takes the vest from me and slips it over her head to prove it. She looks like a child dressing up in her parents’ clothes. I wish that was all it was. “But it is heavy, I’ll admit it.”

  “We can carry it for you,” I offer, trying not to laugh. “You can slip it on if there is a threat nearby.”

  She lifts it over her head with scrawny arms. “That’s a good idea. I’m not leaving it behind.” Her gaze goes to Rhys, reminding us all how dangerous bullets can be.

  “Does everyone know how to shoot?” Rhys asks.

  Garlind and I both answer in the negative while Sarah proudly states that she’s “the best shooter around.”

  “We can teach you how it’s done,” Rhys offers.

  We eagerly accept. While I don’t relish firing a gun, especially with the intent of killing something, I’ve seen way too much now to be shy about it. Sometimes we need to protect ourselves and each other. If this small black metal thing can help me do that, then I will use it.

  I think.

  Nobody else is interested in exploring any more of the museum and we don’t find any food in the cafeteria so we leave the place behind. Out the back is a large garden that is now completely overgrown. What were once probably manicured lawns and neatly trimmed flower bushes is a mass of overgrown grass and weeds.

  There is plenty of room out here for our shooting lesson so we get straight to work. Sarah scampers around and sets some bottles on a ledge across the field of weeds while Rhys checks the guns.

  “Remember, safety first. Don’t ever point these things at one another. Not even as a joke,” he says seriously. “Only point them in the direction of someone you want dead. That’s all.”

  “Got it,” Garlind and I reply at the same time.

  Rhys hands us all a gun and then explains how it works. There is a chamber and a barrel and a safety switch. He shows us how to load it with ammunition and how to hold it so we have the best chance of actually hitting our targets.

  I’m itching to try it and dreading it too. I don’t like holding something in my hand that has the power of taking someone’s life from them. I’ve seen what a single bullet did to Rhys and how damaging it can be not only for those shot but for those that care about them.

  I don’t like any part of this but I know it’s necessary. If we encounter an enemy, they won’t hesitate in using their weapons against me.

  What has our world come to?

  Rhys gets us to take all the bullets out of our guns and then we go through the process of pretending to shoot the bottles. They are all broken already which makes it harder to focus on them, but it can’t be helped. Glass is one of the first things to go when the world ends.

  It seems easy enough. If I close one eye and squint, it helps the bottle come into focus a little more. Then all I have to do is take the safety latch off and pull the trigger. I hold the gun in one hand and use the other hand to steady it. It’s all fine and easy when I can concentrate. Having to line up a moving target in a real situation will be ver
y, very different.

  Sarah throws hints and tips our way until I’m overloaded with information. She assures us these guns are easy so we should be able to do it.

  Rhys eventually declares us ready enough to try shooting with bullets. My hands shake as I load a couple into the barrel. The whole gun feels so different when it is loaded. It’s not just a toy now, it’s a lethal weapon.

  “Garlind, you go first,” he instructs. “Line up the target, and shoot on the exhale.”

  I stand back as Garlind takes his time. When he fires, the noise is so loud I almost drop to the ground in fright. I expected some noise, but nothing as loud as that.

  He misses the bottle.

  “Good job. Your posture was good. You just need some more practice. You’re up, Maisy. Show us how it’s done.”

  I want to laugh because if Garlind missed, there is no way I’m going to make it. My arms suddenly feel like lead as I point the gun in the direction of the bottle. It looks really tiny from back here.

  All the things Rhys and Sarah told me run through my head. I focus on my stance first so I have a steady base to hold the thing still. My hands are shaking which I can see in the movement of the gun.

  My palms sweat. I want to wipe them on my pants but am afraid of having to start all over again with lining up my target. I close my eyes and take a few breaths as I try to calm my body and mind.

  When I open them again, I focus on the bottle and fire. The recoil on the gun makes my shoulder jerk back. It’s far harder than I expected it would be. That one shot makes my collarbone hurt.

  I hit the brick wall just below the bottle. A chink of the red brick flies off in a dust storm and plonks to the ground. Not bad for my first attempt. I got closer than Garlind did.

  “Well done,” Rhys says.

  Our afternoon is spent with the guns. We don’t have an unlimited supply of ammunition so we spend a lot of time pointing and clicking with an empty barrel. I prefer it that way. Bullets scare me, especially when I watched what Rhys went through to recover from his wound.

  A few precious bullets are saved for the end of our lesson. We once again line up the bottle and shoot. Garlind hits his target but mine just taps the side on the way past.

  “If you get the wrong spot on a person,” Rhys warns, “it can be the difference between you living or dying. You need to keep practicing so you’ll get the fatal shot every time. Otherwise, you might not get a second chance.”

  I hate that this is what we’ve become.

  Kill or be killed.

  Any further ominous warnings are cut short as a bear bursts through the hedge fence to our left. He rears up with his claws leading the way.

  We don’t have any bullets in our guns.

  Chapter 11

  “Leave him to me,” Sarah yells.

  I grab her at the last minute so she can’t propel herself toward the massive beast. All she has is a small knife and an empty gun. The chances of her winning against those sharp talons are not great. In fact, I would say they are so low as to be non-existent.

  Garlind picks her up as we run toward the museum door. I remember a lesson he taught me that said not to run from any wild animal. That they’ll see it as a challenge and fight even harder to catch us. This time, however, we might just be able to make it inside before it has a chance to gain enough ground.

  The bear grunts and growls as it chases after us. My sole focus is on that door and how many seconds it will take us to reach it. The metal doorway seems impossibly far.

  I sneak a look backward to see the giant brown bear down on all fours as it gallops toward us. His teeth are bared as his concentration aims to capture us. He’s probably already tasting our flesh and salivating over the hearty meal.

  We’re not going to make it. I’m the last of us, the slowest after the two boys—even with Garlind carrying Sarah. She’s finally realized she can’t fight the wild animal and is no longer struggling against her restraints.

  My feet keep tripping over each other as I curse my clumsiness. Now is not the time to fall to the ground. I have to keep going. One wrong move and I will be dinner for the animal. I didn’t get a really good look at him but I’m pretty sure he’s not a mutant creature. He’s a true bear, just like the pictures in the books I read.

  The smell hits my nose and almost trips me up. He reeks of rot or filth—I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I want to gag and have to clench my teeth together so that I don’t vomit while I’m running.

  Rhys makes it to the building first and pulls open the heavy door. He holds it out for us as we stream inside. My heart is hammering so fast I can barely breathe.

  Even after Rhys slips inside and bangs the door shut, I can still smell the bear. He reaches the door and claws at it. The whine of his talons as he scraps against the metal sets my teeth on edge. It’s a horrible grind that has to be hurting him.

  The shadow of the huge animal flickers underneath the door. He’s pacing, examining every piece of the door to make certain he can’t get in any way. I’m praying he can’t find a way. The door certainly looks solid but not everything is as it appears to be.

  “We should get away from here,” I puff out between breaths. Standing around doesn’t feel very safe. Only distance between us and the monster can ensure that we’ll live to see another day.

  The faces of my friends are all the same—white as ghosts with wide, scared eyes. We hadn’t expected to be taken by surprise by the bear. We should have known better but we were too engrossed in our gun lesson to take the necessary precautions.

  We won’t make that mistake again.

  “Everyone split up and check all the outside doors are secure,” Garlind instructs. He’s already walking away by the time he finishes the sentence.

  We scatter in different directions. I hurry to the front of the museum and check the main doors. They are made of glass and might not hold the bear back if he’s truly determined to get to us. I check they are all closed and locked anyway before moving on to the next wing.

  I remember seeing a lot of fire escape doors when I wandered around the museum earlier. I can’t recall any of them being open but I doublecheck anyway. The bear might lose interest in us but we can’t be certain.

  The others are waiting for me in the main corridor. We each report the areas we’ve covered before deciding that we checked everywhere on the ground level. The bear can’t fly so the upper floors don’t matter.

  “Maybe we should stay here for the night,” Rhys suggests.

  “I think that’s the safest thing,” I reply quickly. I have no desire to step foot outside the museum until I’m certain the animal has moved on.

  We all look to Garlind for confirmation. He finally nods. “Okay. We’ll head off at first light.”

  Just to be absolutely certain, we make our camp on the top floor of the museum. We choose the small theatre instead of one of the large, cavernous rooms. There could be more than just wild animals around and humans know how to open doors. The theatre allows us to easily monitor all the doors so we can look out for intruders of the two-legged variety.

  It’s warmer in this room. The air is slightly musty but not enough to drive us out. Cobwebs hang against the walls and in some of the chairs. The big screen at the front has fallen down so it sits crumpled on the floor. I wonder what they used to watch in here? Something educational, no doubt.

  We sleep in a row in the gap between the first row of seats and the collapsed screen. Garlind only just fits with his long legs. Some crackers are handed around before we settle into sleep.

  Garlind curls around me as his arm drapes over my waist. I snuggle into his chest and feel the warmth of his embrace. I’m comfortable enough to easily sleep.

  There are no dreams that I can remember when I wake up. I still feel tired so I probably had some bad ones but forget about them. I’m glad. There is little worse than the memory of a nightmare to plague the daylight hours.

  After packing up our gear, we ch
eck out the windows all around the museum for signs of the bear. He doesn’t seem to be stalking around the front of the building, the back, or either side. Hopefully that means he gave up and went back to the wild beyond outside the city.

  We leave by the front doors and hurry away from the museum—just in case. My gaze constantly scans our surroundings, searching for any sign of movement. There is no trace of the bear in the air but that could mean he’s just downwind.

  Raleigh would have been a beautiful city back in the day. I can see pieces of historical buildings everywhere. It’s difficult to imagine it without all the vines and plants everywhere.

  The streets are wide in places and have multiple lanes. They aren’t nearly as big as they were in Chicago but large enough to know we’re in a city and not a country town. We follow the bigger roads that will hopefully lead us out of the city and that much closer to Washington DC.

  It’s all quiet everywhere. No rustle of leaves by animals and no ships flying overhead. I should have realized that was a bad sign. Nothing is ever this still without trouble brewing.

  When I see the wall of people suddenly surrounding us, I know we’ve made a big mistake.

  We stop dead in the center of the street. My instincts say to run. When I look for a direction to escape, I see more people behind us. They are in all directions, completely blocking any attempt to escape.

  I take a step to the side so I’m closer to Sarah. I’ll protect her at all costs. Garlind stands tall at the front of our little group, not letting any fear show on his face.

  “We are on our way out of town,” he says loudly, so all of them can clearly hear him. “If you let us through, we will be out of your hair in no time.”

  A man steps forward from their group. He’s an adult, probably in his twenties. Not very old, but maybe just old enough to remember some of the world before. His skin is tanned and freckled, like he spends a lot of time outside in the sun. “This is our territory.”

  “Our apologies for intruding. As I said, we’re just on our way through. You don’t need to worry about us.”