Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  “You okay?” Peter asks.

  “Yeah. I just hate leaving.”

  “I know.”

  Bits spits out her toothpaste and wipes her mouth on Penny’s proffered towel. That won’t have been the last time I’ll ever hug Bits, I tell myself, and walk away. Sometimes it takes a huge effort of will to drive through those gates, and I know if I go back in, I’ll never leave.

  CHAPTER 23

  Whitefield is a wreck. Bodies are strewn everywhere, smoke rises from the charred heaps of buildings and the air smells of burning flesh and raw meat. They’re too shell-shocked to have gotten a plan in place. A few people load bodies into the beds of pickups, but the rest stand and watch them in tight groups.

  “Holy shit,” Adrian says, after we get out of the van. “I didn’t think it was this bad.”

  “Me neither,” Peter agrees.

  I hear a piercing wail and look for its source. It’s Christine, whose husband, Brett, was in the 157th. I assume he’s one of the bodies. The blond hair that she pulls into a silky ponytail sticks out like straw, and her plain but pleasant farm-girl face is screwed up in agony.

  “Go,” I say to Nelly, who scans the crowd, and point to where Adam loads bodies.

  Nelly nods and strides off in his direction. I hear him shout over the roar of a generator, and Adam moves toward him eagerly. Nelly knew he was okay because John asked via radio.

  Ana’s eyes flicker from the bullet holes in the main hangar’s window to the blackened remains of the barn, then to the blood that runs along the concrete. Her lips tighten and her neck moves when she swallows. Ana hardly ever cries; she gets pissed and flies off the handle instead. Zeke and Kyle step through the door of the main hangar.

  “Thanks for coming, y’all,” Zeke says. “Jesus Christ, can you believe this?” He surveys the airport and twists his beard.

  “What the hell happened, Zeke?” Adrian asks.

  “The fences are solid, man,” Zeke drawls, his Southern accent deepening. “Only thing I can think is we had four new people come in yesterday evening. They seemed well enough, but we didn’t check them—I asked one of the guards who was on and he said they didn’t. Maybe one of the arrivals was too scared to admit he’d gotten the virus.”

  I don’t know how you could do that, knowing you’d kill other people. I’d blow my head off before I’d let that happen.

  “Best I can tell is it started in the men’s barrack while we were sleeping. Someone must’ve opened the door, and then they got out. No alarms, nothing. I was in my office last night and didn’t hear a goddamned thing. Not until it was—” He sweeps a hand in the air at the devastation. “We got it under control pretty quickly, once we figured out what was happening, but they’d gotten into the main hangar and the soldiers’ barrack. I think people opened doors to see what was going on. None of us thought of Lexers.”

  “You know I sleep in the family barrack,” Kyle says. He has a four year-old daughter, Nicole. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  Kyle, who shaves his head bald, rubs his hand along the gleaming brown skin as if for luck. He was from a different unit of the National Guard, although he came to Whitefield with the 157th.

  “Almost everyone in the men’s barrack was infected,” Zeke says. “The families are okay. A lamp must have burst in the soldiers’ barrack during the fighting. They became fucking human torches. The chicken coop and barn burned. Half the food was in the soldiers’ barrack and over another quarter in the barn. It’s all gone. We won’t make it on what we have until the summer crops.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Adrian says. “We’ll bring you everything we can spare. There’s always North Conway. Will was talking about making a trip there.”

  “Almost all the patrollers are gone,” Zeke says. “We’ve got me and Kyle. We’re all that’s left.”

  “We’ll come,” Ana says.

  Kyle crosses his arms and assesses the survivors. “We’ll need you. We’ve got to train some people—if we can find them.”

  We have the same problem at Kingdom Come. People don’t want to risk their lives. They’re scared, and rightfully so. Last fall, a patrol went out and never returned. Thirty people left for Moose River, Maine, after that, along with the people at the farms we’d helped to fortify. They thought it’d be safer, since it’s the largest and most remote Safe Zone in the northeast. It made the winter easier in terms of food and fuel, but there’s strength in numbers, and ours have dwindled.

  We don’t have enough ammo to teach people how to use guns, although a blade of some type is sufficient. But a blade requires the nerve to jam it into a head, and I’ve been surprised to find that not everyone will do that unless they absolutely have to. Even on someone who’s already dead. They had to do it on the way to the farm, maybe, but now they avoid it, even through the fence. There are just over a dozen of us who will go on patrol. The other adults will guard, but they won’t step beyond the gates except to help with body disposal.

  Zeke nods his thanks. “What we could use is some help with the bodies. Burying one or two on this side of the gate would be fine, but I don’t like the idea of all that infection in here. I’m meeting some resistance on that. I don’t blame them, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Nothing to do,” Kyle says. He turns to us with sympathy in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a line. “It’s the families. They want somewhere to visit inside the gates.”

  I’ve never been fond of graves. My parents were cremated, and I liked knowing they were scattered on their land, free to be anywhere. But I could see where having one would be comforting, especially these days. It’s important to know for certain where someone is.

  “We’ve got two spaces where the ground could take them. One’s by the water,” Zeke says, talking about the irrigation pond that they use for crops, “the other’s by the big field. I don’t feel good about burying seventy infected people in the ground next to something we put in our mouths.”

  “They’ll come around,” Adrian assures him.

  “I hope so. I never wanted to be head of this place, but Will asked if I would step up if he, Ian and a few others were gone. I agreed, but that’s ‘cause I never thought it would happen. Never in a million years.”

  I could imagine almost everyone in the world dying, but not Will. He seemed indestructible. Zeke shakes his head repeatedly and watches the ground. When he turns to us, however, his jaw is set. There’s a reason he made it all the way from Kentucky to Whitefield, rescuing people along the way. That’s why Will insisted he be in charge.

  “He knew you’d do a good job,” I say. “And you are. You’re thinking of everything.”

  “I sure hope that’s true, sugar,” Zeke says. He lets go of a sigh and raises his bushy brows. “Adrian, you’re gonna have to show me the ropes.”

  ***

  It takes three people to move Will’s body. His skin is ashen and he has blood around his mouth and between his teeth. There’s no way he would have let himself turn, so he must have died and turned quickly. I say a silent goodbye when the truck holding his body pulls away and the weight in my stomach worsens. This could have been us.

  Whitefield has lost every soldier but Kyle and over thirty other residents. Henry, Hank and all the other kids are okay. That leaves eighty people; eighty people who can follow orders but don’t know how to run this place day to day.

  I stand next to Henry and Hank, who I’ve found outside the main hangar at an electrical box, surrounded by tools, circuit boards and wires. Henry looks as surprised as everyone else, but his hands are steady as he fixes the ruin caused by a rogue bullet.

  “I can’t believe this,” I say. “Thank God someone locked the family barrack.”

  “It was my dad,” Hank says proudly.

  Henry grimaces and throws his screwdriver into his tool bag. “I knew something was wrong. I should’ve gone outside to help.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” I say. “Someone needed to p
rotect the kids.”

  Henry isn’t convinced, though, and he stares at the wet spots from the water they used to put out the fire and wash away the blood. The patches of dirt that are stained dark with blood won’t be gone until the next soaking rain.

  “You did the right thing, Henry,” I say, and touch his shoulder. “Can you imagine if someone had opened the door to see what was going on?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Henry catches Hank’s nod. “Hank’s been telling me that all morning.”

  “Dad, I’m always right,” Hank says. “You should know that by now.”

  Henry clamps his lips together, since Hank is completely serious and his adult expression is incongruous with his big glasses and skinny arms. “Guess I should, huh?”

  “You should always listen to Hank. I know I do,” I say with a wink. “I said I’d help in the men’s barrack. But I’ll see you guys later.”

  I catch Adrian just before he heads into the barrack, and it’s hard not to feel better when I see the soft smile that’s reserved for me.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he says.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  He hands me a pair of yellow rubber gloves like the ones he wears. My engagement ring catches, so I pull it off and hold it out. I wore black leggings with no pockets because I didn’t want any of my three pairs of jeans bloody.

  “Hold this for me?” I ask, but snatch it away before he can reach. “I want it back, though. No changing your mind or anything.”

  “We’ll see.” Adrian plucks it from my fingers and puts it deep into his jeans’ watch pocket. “I might need some convincing later. You can show me just how badly you want it.”

  “Oh, I want it pretty badly.”

  “Maybe you can wear that holster later, too.”

  I found a thigh holster with its own elastic belt in the weapons room. Usually, I wear a shoulder holster and my knife on my waist, but this holds my knife without needing a belt. I have to admit, I felt a little like a badass when I put it on. It’s probably how Ana feels twenty-four hours a day.

  I let out an exaggerated sigh even as warmth floods my abdomen. “Is there anything you don’t find sexy?”

  “Not on you.” He shakes his head like it’s a lost cause.

  “Seriously, y’all,” Nelly says from behind me. “You are so annoying.”

  He and Adam stand hand in hand. Nelly makes a sound of disgust, but Adam cocks his head. “I think it’s nice.”

  “Hang out with them long enough,” Nelly says, “and you’ll be singing a different tune.”

  But I see the way his thumb strokes Adam’s. I bite my tongue and pull on my gloves. I may like to tease Nelly, but I don’t want to scare him away from acting like a human with real emotions.

  My first thought when we enter the men’s barrack is that it might have been better if it’d burned, too. Even with the open windows, the smell of blood hangs in the air and many of the mattresses are stained beyond redemption. They’re all garbage now, since it might be infected blood.

  The body of someone I don’t know, maybe the one who started all this, is just inside the door. I reach down for an ankle while Adrian grabs the other. We pull him outside and hoist him into the pickup’s bed. The sun is warming up the day nicely, and the newly tilled fields are a rich brown. A perfect spring day, ruined by Lexers.

  We grow quieter and quieter as we move the bodies. We know all these faces: they’re people we’ve spoken to, laughed with. There’s something deep between survivors, even if we don’t know each other well. It must be similar to when veterans meet up—they may have had different units, different battles, but the war was the same.

  We leave the blood and bedding for the cleanup crews. Most people are willing to do that, and I can’t blame them for not wanting to touch their family members and friends. That’s why we’re here. Thankfully, although the ground is muddy, it’s thawed enough to dig a hole in a nearby field. Digging separate graves would be too dangerous and time-consuming out in the open. The bodies are gently lowered into the ground while John says a few words.

  I’m given the task of watching the surrounding fields while much of Whitefield stands over the mound of dirt. I don’t want to see it anyway; listening to John’s soft, deep voice and the sobbing is bad enough. Christine stands next to me. I wonder why she’s not with the others, since Brett’s in the ground, too.

  “I killed him,” she says suddenly.

  I turn, startled, but her face is blank like she hasn’t said anything. Just when I think I’ve imagined it, she speaks again. “He bit me through the blanket. Woke me up. At first I thought he was playing. Then I heard the screams. I ran for his knife.”

  She’s reciting the chain of events like a grocery list. I need milk, flour, sugar, and butter. Her lack of emotion is more alarming than a complete breakdown because I know it’s buried in there.

  “His blood got everywhere. Then I hid under the bed. The only one I ever killed, you know. I made it all the way here with the 157th and never had to kill a single one.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really sorry. Can I do anything for—”

  She steps back, the blank look replaced by tears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  I raise my hand to touch her or offer her a hug, but she runs to catch a truck that’s heading back. I hope she has someone to talk to. Or, at the very least, something to live for.

  ***

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Nelly asks.

  “They need you here,” Adrian says. “We’ll start on organizing supplies to bring back. Marcus doesn’t want to miss Caleb’s birthday.”

  Nelly, John, Liz, Peter and Ana are staying to help with cleanup. The bodies are buried, but things need to be rebuilt and disinfected. Food needs to be catalogued, along with ammo.

  “But we’re gonna hold off on the party until you guys are home,” Marcus says. “I wouldn’t deprive you of the bonfire and alcohol.”

  “You’re a good man,” Liz replies. “Tell your snot-nosed brother we say happy birthday.”

  “I will. He’ll be happy to know you’re thinking of him.” Liz snorts in a most unladylike fashion.

  “See you in a few days,” I say to Nelly. “Adam, maybe you could come back for a visit.”

  “I don’t want to leave the kids, especially now,” Adam says. “But I will soon. Maybe during summer break.”

  “Do kids get summer break in the apocalypse?”

  “It’s like the old days,” Adam says. “They get to break their backs doing farm work.”

  I laugh because it’s true. Poor kids.

  “So long, lollipops,” I say to Peter and Ana. It’s what we say with Bits, instead of So long, suckers.

  Peter smiles, but it’s a tired one. “Safe home.”

  Ana makes a murmur of agreement; even she looks worn out. This day has worked itself under everyone’s skin.

  I nod before I get in the van. “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 24

  We’ve seen Lexers on the side of the road and a crowd in the biggest town we passed through, but otherwise the ride to Kingdom Come has been peaceful. Marcus is behind the wheel, singing under his breath, while Adrian and I sit in the seats behind him and figure out what we can spare for Whitefield. I know the kitchen pretty well, since I do inventory with Mikayla. And I know that even with all those people gone, they’re going to be short on food. And now we are, too. I have a feeling many patrols are in our future, and I don’t like the idea at all.

  Adrian looks up from the list he scribbles in a notebook. “We’ll search everyone who comes from now on. Maybe even quarantine them for twenty-four hours.”

  We haven’t had any new people so far this spring, but I remember when we showed up at the farm last year. They’d asked about Nelly’s wound, but they’d believed us when we told them what it was.

  “People might not like that,” Marcus says.

  “Well, then they can leave,” Adrian says. “Ask
me if I give a shit.”

  Marcus howls. Adrian can give the mistaken impression of being docile. He might sing ridiculous songs to kittens and let mangy dogs in our bed, but he never shrinks from a fight.

  Adrian holds up a finger. “One. That’s all it took to do that to Whitefield. One fucking Lexer. We’re not taking any chances.”

  “I’m in charge of the strip searches,” Marcus calls out.

  He turns onto a road that will bring us north and drop us on the main road to the farm. Another three miles and we’ll be home in time for dinner. I’m wondering what’s on the menu when Marcus shouts. Dozens of Lexers are gathered on the right side of the road ahead. There’s room to pass, and when we do I see that they’re bent over a meal. Bloody hands reach into a body cavity I can barely see and come away dripping. My fear fights with the revulsion in my stomach at their blank stares and mindless eating.

  Marcus cranes his neck to look behind us. “Could you tell what that was? A deer? I hope it wasn’t someone trying to get—”

  Adrian and I call out when the van veers to the right. We hit the shoulder, and the passenger’s side bumps down into the steep ditch. Marcus guns the engine in reverse, but the tires spin and the motor revs, to no avail.

  “Stop, stop, you’re digging us in,” Adrian says. He climbs over and rolls down the passenger’s side window. “Maybe we can push it out.”

  I spin around, hands clammy, but the road behind us is still empty. The Lexers are just around a bend. They may be busy enough not to have heard the noise of the engine over the sounds of their eating.

  Marcus sucks in his cheeks. “Shit. Fuck! I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s try the farm.” Adrian calls on the handheld radio, which is all we have in this van, but it’s dead air. “We’re too far, with the trees in the way.”