Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  He was going to kill me, and I can see by their sympathetic expressions they’re going to capitulate to his plea. What will stop him from killing me once he’s free? Footsteps sound. Nelly, Jamie and Peter halt at the end of the closest aisle and raise their guns before moving closer. My muscles weaken in relief, but I don’t let go of Frank.

  “What’s going on?” Peter asks. He circles around until he’s beside me, keeping his pistol on Terry.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” Terry says.

  “Frank said…none of us were going back,” I say. Now that they’re here, I can give in to the cough that’s been trying to work itself out. My chest hurts more than I thought possible.

  “I swear that’s not happening,” Terry says. “Frank’s infected. He’s not thinking straight.” He points to the body. “That’s his son over there.”

  “Rich?” Peter asks.

  “No, Pete,” Rich says. “We all go back together.”

  “I don’t know what Frank’s talking about,” Tara says. “I want you to come back.”

  She looks honest enough, but so do most people who lie. “They’re not Canadian,” I mumble. “They said that so we’d trust them.”

  Tara and Philip glance at each other in bewilderment. Peter’s mouth works in a way that makes it clear he thinks I’ve gone round the bend. The moment I try to explain, I realize how insane it is to think that they would masquerade as Canadians so they could kill us. I shake my head to clear the half-formed and befuddled thoughts swimming around.

  “It’s all right.” Peter lowers his gun and puts his hand over mine. “We’re all right.”

  I’m sinking fast. I’m going to have to believe him—it hasn’t failed me so far. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  I don’t want to kill anyone else. Anything else. I just want to ensure the safety of the people I love. I want to give them what they need as well as all the little things they want. And this place is full of the little things they want.

  “We get the candy,” I gasp out. “And espresso beans. Tea. Pepsi.” Nelly chokes on a laugh from behind me.

  “It’s yours,” Terry says with a nod.

  I holster my gun. My chest groans with every inhalation and the edges of my vision grow dark. I manage to hold it together until my knees buckle in the parking lot. Peter and Rich carry me the rest of the way to the VW, where I willingly surrender to the blackness.

  CHAPTER 56

  I have fuzzy memories of the last few days: an all-encompassing heat, coughing until I puke, a hand on my hair and voices—Nelly, Rich and Jamie—but Peter’s voice was ever-present, so I’m not surprised to come to and find him on the other side of the king bed in our cabin. Even in sleep, he looks exhausted.

  He sits up when I do, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say, and try not to choke to death on the first word I’ve spoken in days. I lean back. I think someone’s stolen one of my lungs. “No, maybe I’m dying.”

  “Glad to have you back,” Peter says. He pushes my hair off my temple and says something more, but I close my eyes.

  I wake again what could be an hour or a day later. Peter’s still there, but now he’s engrossed in a book and shoveling something into his mouth. He hands me a glass of water and rests the back of his hand on my cheek. “Drink. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’m breathing underwater.”

  “You have pneumonia. Your lung collapsed.”

  “Seriously?”

  Peter shuts his book and points it at me. “I told you to stay here.”

  “You know what I like about you, Petey? You never say I told you so.”

  He gives me a half smile and frowns when I shiver. “There’s a fire in the living room. Are you hungry? You need to eat.”

  “What are you eating over there?” He holds up a package of Oreos. “You’re eating Oreos? Do you know what’s in them? High fructose corn syrup, for a start. They’ll kill you.”

  He closes his eyes while he chews. “Have another cigarette, why don’t you? I don’t care what’s in them. Oreos are delicious.”

  I laugh-cough. I like to see Peter scarf down Oreos with abandon, attempt giant drags of cigarettes even though he despises them and make snarky comments. Light floods in the two windows of the bedroom. Peter’s nightstand is cluttered with pill bottles, while mine holds Dan’s box and my repaired phone. I reach for it and scroll through the last of the pictures: The mountains. Miss Vera by the side of the road, beaten to shit. Peter driving, knuckles raw from punching Oliver. It seems like a year ago. I lay it back on the nightstand, not ready to relive all the losses that got us here.

  “Thanks for fixing it,” I say.

  “James did it. He found a few phones and brought them back. Bits and Hank won’t stop playing Angry Birds.”

  “Is she better?”

  Peter swallows the last of his cookie. “Bits is fine, besides wanting to see you. They’re at Nel and Adam’s cabin. We didn’t want them to get sick. Penny, either. Everyone’s fine.”

  We’re here. If I didn’t think I’d collapse, I’d jump for joy. Instead, I celebrate by easing my feet to the floor and admiring my new fuzzy pajama pants. “So, are you sharing those Oreos?”

  “I’ll share after you eat something real.”

  “And brush my teeth. And pee. It’s been—how long has it been?”

  “Three days.”

  “Have you slept in three days?”

  He rushes to take my arm when I stand and says, “Some.”

  “I like my pants. Thanks for taking care of me.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Rich took care of you.”

  I remember enough from the past few days to know that’s not true, but I don’t argue. He helps me with the first few wobbly steps until I stop at the bedroom door. “I think I’m okay to walk.”

  “Good, because you’re on your own when you pee.”

  I smile and follow him into the toasty living room. He tells me the toilet flushes, which I also remember, although I prefer not to recall whoever brought me to the bathroom. Thank God I didn’t have dysentery. I use the pitcher of water to brush my teeth and find that the toilet does indeed flush. A pail of water sits in the corner for filling the tank, but one try tells me I don’t have the strength to lift it.

  “Don’t lift that bucket!” Peter calls.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say.

  I cast a longing look at the dry shower and avoid the mirror. Some things are better left unseen, and the knotted greasy strands of hair that hang around my head are enough for me. I let Peter lead me to the couch; brushing my teeth has taken the wind out of my sails. He stirs a pot on the woodstove, looking clean and shiny with only the usual trace of stubble.

  “You shaved,” I say.

  “Well, someone did tell me my beard looked meh.” He ladles soup into a bowl and sets it in my lap, then sits in a chair across from me.

  “I don’t know, I kind of liked traveling around with a bunch of fledgling Amish.”

  Peter waves his hand for me to eat. I don’t feel hungry, but once I take a sip of soup I can’t stop. I want to hook up a soup I.V. and dump in a gallon, even if it is canned and probably expired. I slurp it down without a spoon, chewing like a cow, and hand him the bowl for more.

  I’m on my third bowl, which Peter has insisted be only broth, when Nelly walks through the front door. “There she is! How are you, Half-pint?” He kisses my cheek and perches on the coffee table bursting with disturbing good humor.

  “I’m okay,” I say cautiously. Now that my bowl’s empty, I finally take in the boxes that are stacked in the kitchenette and peek out from the loft. “What’s with all the boxes?”

  Peter coughs into his fist. Nelly leans forward and cracks his knuckles with glee. “It’s your share.”

  “My share of what?”

  “The candy, tea, coffee, and hmm, let’s see,” he rustles in the bag he’s set on the floor, pulls out a can
of soda and pops the top, “Pepsi.”

  Oh, no. I hadn’t forgotten—the memory is clear as day—but I hadn’t yet remembered demanding all of that. Frank and my gun and Tara and Philip. I cover my face and whisper through my hands, “I said they weren’t really Canadian.”

  They roar with laughter. Peter claps Nelly’s back when he chokes on his Pepsi, and I pull the blanket over my head. “I can’t ever leave this cabin. You guys will bring me stuff, right?”

  “You are in dire need of a bath.” Nelly yanks the blanket down, enjoying every second of my mortification. “And we all have to work. So, no.”

  Peter was right. I should’ve stayed here, if only so I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself. At the time it had seemed so logical. “I had one lung! And lots of medicine. I didn’t really want all this stuff, I was pissed off. Oh my God, everyone must hate me.”

  “Well, they might, but we all love you,” Nelly says. “Our cabins are all full of this crap. Glory and Bernie said it was the least they could do, since we didn’t have to come back at all after what happened.”

  I moan. Nelly pats my head. “There’s plenty of junk in circulation right now. We emptied out that place and there was even more than they thought. We’re set.”

  “We have to give most of it back.” I won’t give away the espresso for Peter or Christmas candy for the kids, but this is overkill.

  “Peter said you’d say that. I say we keep it. We didn’t take it all even though we could’ve.”

  “You can keep your Pepsi.”

  He finishes his drink and belches. “Don’t worry, I will. Two cans a week. I’m good for two years. Thanks for being crazy, by the way.”

  I smile despite myself. “Merry Christmas.”

  Now that the torture portion of the afternoon is over, Nelly sits on the couch and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “Penny will take you to the baths later. If you’re up for it.”

  “I am so up for it. Can I see Bits?” I want to hear Bits and Hank’s goofy arguments. I want to see the relief of their faces after weeks of strain and worry.

  “She’s in school,” Peter says. “But we’ll get her when you go to the baths.”

  “Geez, those two can talk,” Nelly says. “Adam and I have a cabin with a loft, and they spend all night yapping up there. They might not want to come back, as long as I come over here every day and get them candy.”

  It hurts to laugh, but I’m overjoyed to be sitting with two of my most favorite people in the world. I pray this was the last time we’ll have to run, but as long as I have them it’ll be all right wherever we end up. The happiness dampens when I remember Mikayla and Ben, and I say their names aloud.

  “We buried them,” Peter says. “There’s a graveyard outside of town. They buried Frank and his son there, too.”

  I blink, afraid of what crying will do to my breathing capacity.

  “Tara and Patricia told everyone what Frank did,” Nelly says. “No one hates you. They’re kind of scared of you, actually.”

  I make a face, glad to be thinking of something besides Mikayla. “Yeah, I’m real scary.”

  “You certainly look scary.” Nelly lumbers off the couch. “I’ll tell Penny you’ve joined the ranks of the living. And then I’ve got work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “James is running solar and hydroelectric power or some shit. I just do what he tells me.”

  “Have fun. Hate you.”

  He tickles under my chin. “Hate you, darlin’. I’m glad you’re better.”

  Cool air circulates when he closes the door behind him. I tuck my blanket around me. “It’s already freezing out there.”

  “It snowed the other day,” Peter says. “It didn’t stick, though.”

  “So I should be happy my lung collapsed and I didn’t have to go outside.”

  Peter doesn’t crack a smile at my joke. “You were really sick, much worse than Bits. They had to stick a needle in your chest to draw out the air.”

  “Aha! That would be why I feel like someone punctured my chest with a needle.” I run my fingers along a tender spot on the side of my ribs. I can feel my ribs. I need more soup.

  Peter chews his cheek. He does that when he’s upset, and obviously he’s too upset to enjoy my witty remarks. I pat the couch until he sits next to me. He closes his eyes and his chest hitches.

  “Hey, everything’s fine,” I say. “We’re all right.”

  He cries in the quiet way I’ve only seen a few times. He held it together the whole way here—after he’d lost Ana, while he sliced men’s throats, when he feared losing Bits and, I guess, me. He’s one of the most resilient people I’ve ever known, but this is a lot to come back from in a matter of weeks. Still, for all of that, it’s not much of a cry.

  He wipes his face and shrugs. “Sorry.”

  “If we have to start apologizing for crying I’m going to be writing apology notes for the rest of my life.”

  “True.”

  I jab him with a finger and rest my head on his chest. I’ve gotten used to being this close, to sleeping in the same bed as him. What would’ve been weird even a month ago feels normal and safe.

  “You suck at crying, anyway,” I say. “Five tears and you’re done? I could’ve stretched that out for twenty minutes, at least.”

  His chest jumps with his laugh. “I’ll try harder next time. You can have some more soup if you want.”

  I would like more, but I don’t want to move. “Not yet.”

  “Just tell me when and I’ll get it for you,” he mumbles. His breaths deepen, arms twitching in sleep. I rub his shoulder when he mumbles in a way that sounds distressed. I’ll watch over him for once. God knows he’s done it enough for me.

  CHAPTER 57

  I’m winded and freezing by the time we arrive at the bathhouse, even though I have on a parka that’s more suitable for arctic exploration than the high thirties. Penny hasn’t told me what to expect, only that it’s a surprise. On the way to the rectangular wooden building, she’d waved at a million people and several of them stopped to talk. There was Glory, who warned me to take it easy, an older hippie with dreadlocks who repeatedly said right on, a harried mother, two little children clinging to her sides, who asked Penny if she’d want in on the babysitting co-op when the time came, and a young guy asking for James’s whereabouts. It was a relief to find they didn’t seem to hate me and none of them were scared—exaggeration is Nelly’s favorite sport. I would breathe a little easier except for the fact that I can’t breathe all that well.

  Penny leads me into a small room with a sign-in desk. Apparently, I have a towel coin, once known as a silver half-dollar, which Penny hands to the lady at the desk along with hers in exchange for two towels. We undress in a changing room full of wooden cubbies and wisps of fog that drift past every so often. Bits races in, followed by Jamie, Margaret, Liz and Jasmine. I have to sit on a bench when we hug, but it’s the best hug I’ve had in a long while.

  “Hank wanted to come, but since he has to go to the boys’ side he had to stay at school,” Bits says. She looks down at the floor. “Sorry I got you sick.”

  I pinch her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s the germs’ fault.”

  “Stupid germs,” she says, to which I agree wholeheartedly.

  I hug the others, complimenting Margaret when I see her hair has lost its auburn ends to become a flattering shoulder-length brown. She shrugs but gives me an extra squeeze.

  The next room is warmer, with showerheads spaced between partitions and pump handles instead of faucet knobs. “This is like the YMCA,” I say. “Or summer camp. How is this a surprise?”

  “The water’s kind of on the cool side,” Penny says, ignoring me, “so be prepared.”

  I take my towel off the hook and wrap it around me. “Pneumonia, remember? No way.”

  “It’s worth it afterwards,” Jamie says. “Just do it fast.” She grabs shampoo and conditioner from a wooden rack and puts them on the ledg
e between two showerheads.

  I step next to her with a sigh, then crank the pump and wash myself as fast as possible in the lukewarm water that falls. I give a few cursory swipes with a razor, but I don’t have enough stamina to finish the job. When my hair is clean I wait, shivering in my towel.

  Jamie stands beside me. “Jaz, don’t forget the conditioner,” she says to Jasmine. She turns to me. “I swear her hair was matted this morning.”

  “Are you two sharing a room?”

  “Yeah. We’re in the big cabin with Kyle and Nicki, Margaret, Zeke and Liz. I kind of checked with everyone to see if anyone minded if I take care of her.” She gnaws on her lip. “Is that cool?”

  “She’s all yours. I have more than enough kids.”

  She pushes me with a laugh. “Thanks.”

  “Next stop,” Penny says cheerfully.

  I grumble while I follow her into a foggy room, suspecting she’s trying to finish me off until I see the two large, rectangular wooden tubs that sit against opposite walls, each with its own stovepipe that rises through the roof. I climb into the water and sink to a bench. My parents always wanted a wood-fired hot tub, and now I know it’s every bit as marvelous as they’d said.

  “So, now what do you think?” Penny asks. “You can take unlimited lukewarm showers, pretty much, but you can sign up for two baths a week. Or drop in and see if anything’s open.”

  “This is heaven.” The steam makes me cough, but it’s worth it. It’s even worth a cool shower. “What’s it like here?”

  Everyone seems at home after only a few days. Days I wish I hadn’t spent passed out because I feel as if I’m late to the party and might never fit in.

  “It’s so great.” Bits wiggles her toes above the water. “There are lots of kids. Jaz, Hank and I are making comics to sell. We’re going to trade them for stuff. And our teacher, Joe, is funny. Adam’s teaching the older kids math. Ash and Nat are in his class. There’s a girl named Peony. Isn’t that a funny name? But I like it. We’re putting on a play. It’s like The Wizard of Oz but different, and I’m helping with the set.”