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

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

“West,” John corrects.

  “We told Oliver to tell you east! They’re going to reach the road in the west!” My voice is a screech. We could turn east and radio the others, but there’s one person I’ll never leave behind, and she’s on that bus.

  “He didn’t tell us,” John says. He speaks into the radio. “Everyone, turn around. We’re going east. I repeat, turn east. Lexers will block the west road.”

  Something unintelligible crackles out of the radio in response. The small school bus and a pickup speed toward us over the rise a half mile down. We meet them halfway, and Shawn stops the pickup alongside while the small school bus speeds east. I keep my eyes on the road, willing the big yellow bus to crest the hill, but it doesn’t.

  Shawn rolls down the window, face drained of color. “Everyone ahead is surrounded. They swarmed onto the road right before you called. The big bus went into a tree. I think the radiator’s busted. There’s no way to reach them without going into it.”

  The last words are barely out of his mouth before Peter slams on the gas pedal. Once over the rise, we see the school bus sitting angled off the side of the road, engine smoking and motor revving. It’s surrounded by Lexers thirty feet deep in the rear and as far south into the forest as I can see. A couple of vehicles ahead of the bus are drowning in a sea of Lexers. A van’s back doors are open; whoever was in there must have tried to run. Screams echo out of the bus’s open windows, and I might be imagining it, but I’m almost certain I hear Bits among them. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the answering scream that rises in my chest.

  I sink my fingers into Peter’s shoulder. I don’t have to tell him I won’t leave without Bits: he would never consider it either. He leans out the window. “You have room in the truck? We’ll meet you in Quebec.”

  “There’s room in the bed,” Shawn says.

  Mike and Rohan leave the ambulance and crouch on the cargo in the pickup. Mark Golden steps out of the backseat and motions for Penny to get in the cab, but she shakes her head. “No, I’m not leaving.”

  James opens the VW’s door, the planes of his normally placid face sharp. “Yeah, you are.”

  “Get in the truck,” Ana says to her sister. “Now.”

  “Go with Penny,” John says to Maureen. “We’ll meet you there. James, you’re with them.”

  James starts to argue, but John cuts him off. “Go.”

  The look on John’s face silences the both of them. James helps Penny and Maureen into the truck and jumps in the bed.

  “You want me and Jamie?” Shawn asks. “Someone else can drive.”

  John shakes his head and waves them on. Penny presses her face against the window and looks at me and Ana helplessly, and then she’s gone. We turn to where the bus rocks from the hundreds of hands. Shrieks filter through the air. Peter rolls forward until he’s as close as he dares, about half a block’s distance away. So far, with all the noise coming from the bus, we hold no interest for the Lexers.

  The ambulance pulls up alongside. Dan runs to John’s window. “What’s the plan?”

  “You don’t have to—” I begin.

  Dan’s jaw is set. “I’m staying.”

  I’m so grateful that I don’t argue, even though Bits is Peter’s and my responsibility, and I know it’s probably a lost cause. I don’t care—some things are worth dying for. Adrian thought I was. And while I might not agree, I understand the feeling.

  “We’ll make as many trips as we can,” John says, “then go back to the farm for the other trucks.”

  A few Lexers draw near the VW. One makes a beeline for Dan, who drops him with a machete to the jaw. The noises intensify to screams of terror and muffled gunshots. The bus’s front door hangs to the side, and the Lexers crawl up each other. They’re inside. I thought we had at least a few minutes. And that they couldn’t get past the doors and up the stairs—up to Bits. Black spots threaten to take over my vision, and I grab the seat to stay upright.

  I’ve always known that watching Bits die would be unbearable, but I’d hoped that I’d be there, able to give her comfort, if I couldn’t save her. And I can’t even do that; she’s going to die alone. I can only sit here and watch, and this choking helplessness is worse than anything I’ve ever encountered.

  The rear hatch on the bus’s roof swings up. Hank’s head pokes out, and he pulls himself onto the roof. He turns quickly and lies on his stomach, arms dangling back into the hole. I don’t dare breathe as Bits’s brown hair emerges.

  “Please,” I whisper. My feet press to the floor as if I can give her a boost. “Please.”

  Hank drags her alongside him, and then turns back to the hatch. Henry gets his torso through and braces his hands on the roof. He sinks a few inches and struggles to straighten his arms. Bits and Hank grasp his jacket, bent backward with the effort of pulling against whatever’s down there. Henry’s mouth opens and he shakes his head. Bits releases her grip, but Hank holds on a moment longer before he lets his father drop, and then he flops to his belly and hangs into the hatch. I don’t want him to see, and I exhale when Bits pulls him to his feet. She knows what it does to you.

  Ana’s fingers tighten around my arm. “We’ll get her.”

  Ana is more like Bits’s favorite aunt than a mother, but she adores Bits as much as we do. She won’t leave until every hope of saving Bits is gone. And this is our one chance, slim though it may be. We have to get them out before the road to the east is blocked, too.

  Dan leans out of the ambulance window. “Get on the roof. I’ll drive you in. John, stay here in case we need you.”

  Ana, Peter and I scramble up the hood and lie on the roof. We hold tight while Dan drives into the mob, nudging Lexers aside. They move at first, but then they go wild. The ambulance is buffeted as we inch forward. Dan angles to pull alongside the bus. Bits and Hank look so small on the roof, arms dangling by their sides.

  “Stay there!” I yell. “We’re coming!”

  But I don’t know how we’re going to get there, not with the seven solid feet of Lexers wedged between our vehicles. Bits nods, mouth open in an O. She looks as though she might faint.

  “Closer!” Ana screams.

  Dan backs up again. Peter lies on the roof of the cab and flings Lexers out of our path. He picks them up by their hair or tattered clothes and tosses them to the side until Dan’s managed to close the gap to three feet. The driver’s side window shatters, and Dan fires at the ones wedged between the two vehicles. Ana and I stab at their heads until they’re upright and motionless, forming a barrier to keep the others away.

  I look up at the roof. Hank’s glasses reflect the trees and sky, but I can see the desperation in Bits’s eyes. “Cassie!” she screams. “Peter!”

  Hank takes Bits’s hand in his and moves to the edge of the roof. “Not together!” Peter yells. “I’ll bring you over.”

  It takes him one stride to get across, where he catches Bits by the waist. She wraps her legs around him and shuts her eyes while he leaps back. And then she’s in my arms. I thought it impossible, but she’s in my arms. Peter and Hank land on the van with two thumps. Dan backs up slowly and then turns for the east. He gets another few feet, bumping over bodies on the ground. The front of the ambulance rises and doesn’t come back down. The tires squeal, but we don’t move.

  Ana peers over the side and curses. I move Bits off my lap and crawl to the edge. The front of the chassis is caught on a hump of bodies, tires spinning two inches above the road.

  “We’re stuck!” Ana yells over the roof’s edge.

  A moment later, Dan climbs out of the window and onto the roof. The number of Lexers we’ll have to fight our way through is many more than that day in the woods, or the one in the field. There are so few openings in the first ten feet that we’ll have to push our way through.

  “I’ll carry Bits,” Peter yells over the din.

  I don’t want to let her go, but I could never carry her weight and run the way he could. Peter lifts Bits to his hip and
covers her with the flap of his jacket. He grips his machete in his other hand and meets my eyes with a nod. If there’s anyone I trust with Bits, it’s Peter; he’ll die before he fails.

  Hank has a thick jacket, but nothing to protect his ink-stained hands. I strip off my gloves and point to the VW. “Put these on. We’re going to run to John as fast as we can. Can you do that?”

  Hank’s eyes are white all around, and his head shakes in what might be a nod or what might be fear. I take him by the shoulders. “Don’t let go. Unless I go down. Then you run. Don’t stop for anything.”

  Hank slips into the leather. I take Adrian’s knife off my belt and put it in his hand. “Use this if you have to,” I order, and this time his nod is firm, just like his dad’s.

  Ana holds her cleaver in one hand and a small machete from the VW in the other. “I’m with Peter. Dan, you’re with Cass.”

  Dan puts a hand on my arm. His eyes are fierce, just like that morning in Stowe. They say there’s no alternative, we will get out of this. Ana raises the hood of the sweatshirt underneath her coat. She flashes Peter a smile I’ve seen before—the one that means she’ll do anything, no matter how risky.

  “Careful,” I call to her.

  “Stay close,” Peter orders Ana. “Don’t do anything—”

  “Promise.” She pulls her hood’s drawstring tight. Ana and Peter slip down the hood and into the fray. She slices with her blades, shoving and kicking the mass of bodies. Peter shoulders his way through the crowd, knife out, stopping to use it on one who spins Ana to the side.

  Dan and I hit the dirt. I have to drag Hank at first, but within steps he’s matching my pace. Hands rip at my coat as I move through the space Dan leaves behind him, careful to keep Hank just ahead of me. I stab at a head that’s too close. Dan fires at one who dives at his side and hangs there, arms around his waist.

  We’ve almost caught up to Peter and Ana when a surge from behind knocks me and Hank to our knees. His hand slips from mine. I make myself as small as possible while they trip over me and land on the road. I struggle out from under the weight of bodies and shake off the one who’s latched on to the arm of my jacket with its teeth. The surge has pushed this patch of Lexers to the ground, but I can’t find Hank among them.

  “Hank!” I scream.

  Dan shoves a Lexer aside and pulls Hank to his feet. A hand grabs my thigh and another grips my ankle. I kick them off with a grunt and run across the Lexers attempting to rise to their feet, smashing spines with my boots. There’s no time to ask if Hank’s bitten. And anyway, I wouldn’t leave him if he was. There are now two people I’ll never leave behind—Henry would’ve made it out of the bus had he not kept his word to protect Bits, and I’ll be damned if I renege on my part of the bargain. I grab Hank’s hand and spin straight into a skeletal face. The skin is dry and sunken, its teeth immense. They snap, half an inch from my nose, before it crumples to the ground.

  Dan stands behind it, and he throws three more to the ground. “Go!” he yells.

  The Lexers aren’t as thick here, but that’s changing quickly. We have less than ten feet before we’re out. Another few feet and my cleaver is batted out of my hand by a Lexer who lunges to lock Hank in an embrace. I press my palm to its forehead a second before his mouth connects with Hank’s face, but I can’t push it off. I jam two fingers into its eye socket. It’s cold and wet and viscous, and at another time would be too disgusting to contemplate, but I don’t care. They’re not going to get Hank. They’re not going to win, even if I have to punch my bare hand into the brain of every single one of them. I dig my thumb through the rotten cheek for leverage and ram my fingers in until it drops to the dirt.

  Dan grunts behind me; he’s kept the others away to give me time. A high-pitched curse comes from Ana, ahead to my left, and she spins to slam her cleaver into the one who’s grabbed her hood, but she misses. She fumbles with her coat zipper and kicks another away. We make it past as she slips out of her sweatshirt and jacket.

  Hank and I break through the crowd and run the final feet to where John has pulled the VW. John slides the door open, pistol in hand, and throws Hank inside. He reaches for me, but I shake my head and turn. I think I see Dan heading in Ana’s direction, which is where I’m going now that Hank is safe. “Ana’s back there!”

  “You stay,” John yells and hits the dirt. “Get inside!”

  I slam the door and watch John’s red jacket disappear into the crowd. I don’t see Dan or Ana or Peter. I can hear gunshots, although I can’t pinpoint their location. I need to find Peter and Bits.

  I crouch in front of Hank. We’re both panting, and I know my eyes must be as huge as his. “Are you okay? Did any bite you?” His lips move in a silent No, and I nod in relief. I look out every window again. Trees and Lexers are all I can see.

  “Stay here, okay?” I grip his knee when his lower lip trembles. “I’m only going on the roof. I won’t leave you.”

  Hank nods slowly and raises his knife at the lone Lexer who shows interest in the VW before continuing on to the school bus. Somehow Hank’s managed to hold on to both his glasses and the knife.

  Peter calls my name when I step out the door. He’s coming out of the empty woods from the east, Bits still around his waist. How he managed to get so far away is a mystery, but my legs almost buckle before I scramble for the steering wheel and reverse the hundred feet. Peter shoves Bits into the VW. She’s disheveled and terrified, but the sight of her is so very beautiful.

  “I got pushed into the woods,” Peter yells. “Where are they? Where’s John?”

  “He went for Ana,” I say. “She was okay when I last saw.”

  I climb to the roof and catch a flash of red. John is in the midst of them, fighting his way back alone. He hacks with his knife, but the crowd has become a solid mass.

  “John’s coming!” I scream to Peter. “Move us closer!”

  But before Peter reaches the door, hands wrap around John’s face, and he’s pulled to the ground. A muffled gunshot echoes under the bodies that have followed him down. I wait, and when he doesn’t rise, hear myself shriek with the breath I’ve been holding. I’m not sure what I’ve said, but Peter drops his hand from the door handle and stares at me in shock.

  “Ana?” he yells.

  I shake my head numbly and search the crowd for Ana and Dan. There’s a chance they’re still okay. Not like John. Peter puts a boot in the window frame and hops to the roof. Something fast pushes through the back of the mob, and Dan runs up the hood of the ambulance to the roof. His jacket is unzipped, and the bottom of his gray shirt is a dark stain. I tell myself he can’t have been bitten, but the way he stands with his head lowered and chest heaving tells me otherwise. He raises his eyes to mine.

  “No,” I say, and then say it again, although I know it’s true. He’s alone up there, just like he’d feared. I ache to do something, anything, to make this easier for him. I wish he’d come this way; he shouldn’t have to do this alone. He shouldn’t have to do it at all.

  It only takes a few seconds for the thoughts to flit through my mind, a few seconds in which Dan nods and his mouth moves in words I can’t discern. He points a finger my way before raising it to the sky. I don’t know exactly what he means, but I nod anyway. Those are our stars up there.

  “Ana!” Peter’s voice is so frantic that I tear my eyes away from Dan.

  He jumps off the roof and races toward the Lexers who’ve spotted us and are coming our way. I slide down after him and fire at one who breaks from the pack, then another. Peter doesn’t seem to notice until one gets close and he flings it out of the way.

  I scream his name, but he doesn’t answer. We’ve got two minutes before we’re swallowed by the crowd. We have Bits and Hank, and we have to get out of here. If Ana were okay she’d be here by now, I know she would.

  And then I spot her, moving more swiftly than the other figures, but nowhere near as fast as she was. Her neck is shredded and shirt soaked with blood. She makes it
to the forefront of the crowd, unsteady on her booted feet, and Peter stumbles back like he’s been shoved.

  She’s fifteen feet away. The lips that were so expressive—pursed or grinning or saying something completely inappropriate—hang slack. I remember the promise I made on a sunny day, the one I never thought I’d have to keep. My hands shake when I aim my pistol between her dull eyes. I know I have her, though. Head shots might be hard, but I’m good at them. And while she’s close enough that I barely have to try, it’s the hardest shot I’ve ever taken. She hits the ground, and my shaking becomes a full-body shudder. If there were time to run to her, I would, but the rest of the pack is twenty feet away. I shout to knock Peter out of his stupor and drag him by his coat. I can’t do this alone. He walks the first few paces backward, in a trance, and then runs for the driver’s side.

  Peter reverses in a wide arc and pulls east. I scramble to the rear window and look to the ambulance. Dan sits on the roof, watching us go; his flask flashes silver in his hand as he raises it to his mouth. I fall to the side when Peter swerves around a few Lexers who have reached the eastern road. By the time I’m up, we’re over the rise and Dan is out of sight.

  CHAPTER 77

  My hands are filthy. They’re black and brown and rust colored. The brain of the Lexer I killed coats my fingers with slime. I stumble to the sink and lather the soap until my hands are raw. I try not to think about the virus seeping into the cut on my finger. It’s five days old and scabbed up, so I should be safe. I hope.

  I try not to think of Ana and John and Dan and Henry, all those people in the bus, whether Whitefield got the call. How to tell Penny that I killed her sister. What to say to Peter, who stares at the road with a look of utter desolation on his face. What to say to Hank. You’d think I would know.

  We’ve hit the empty road that will take us north. I dry my hands and turn to where the kids sit on the bench seat. Bits is okay, stunned but not in shock. Hank mashes his lips together and raises his bloodshot eyes to mine. He slides into my lap when I kneel before him and buries his face in my chest. His sobs are so forceful they must hurt, but this isn’t something you hold in; it’ll eat you alive if you do.