This is the End 3: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (8 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  He held a pump-action shotgun down by his waist, pointing it in our direction.

  I’d never been so glad to see him.

  “What do you think you’re gonna do with that?” Robinson asked.

  “I told you they are dangerous.”

  They, the three men, stood tall and strong, unwavering, hands still down at their sides.

  “They haven’t done anything,” Robinson replied. “So lower the damn gun. Now.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aamod kept a safe distance, kept the shotgun pointed at the silent road warriors, as he slowly circled away from Robinson. “I know. I’ve seen that look before.”

  “What look?”

  “That look. Right there. On their damn faces.”

  I knew the look Aamod was talking about. Knew it well. My grandma wore it ever since she woke up from the coma. The look of someone who sees everything, but acknowledges nothing.

  “Come on,” I said, tugging on my grandma’s sweater. “We’re going home.”

  And that was when the man in the middle, the one with the scraggily beard, made a sharp move forward. I took my hands off my grandma and stepped out in front, fearing the man would try to harm her. Turns out he only wanted a part of me, and that’s what he got.

  I hit him in the face with all I had, and he didn’t even flinch. My hand sure fucking hurt though. Then he hit me back, right on the side of the head, and I went down like a porn star with two kids and a mortgage.

  I rolled on the pavement, realigning my senses. I looked up and saw the other two men go for Robinson and Aamod, just as the bearded slayer came down on my throat with two hands.

  He took my breath away, and not in a good way.

  But it was the loud blast of the shotgun that saved me.

  The bearded slayer, distracted by the sound, took his hands off me and leapt back to his feet. Next thing I knew he had a hole in his chest the size of a softball. A second later he collapsed, but not before his blood, guts, and maybe even his last meal, rained down on me.

  I slipped as I tried to stand up, and then succeeded the second time.

  The man who had stupidly attacked Aamod lay face first on the ground, his hat a few feet behind him, not far from the bearded slayer. The third man who had attacked Robinson must have been the smartest. He immediately ran off after seeing what happened to his buddies. Aamod wanted to shoot him in the back as he went, but Robinson talked him out of it. As for my grandma, the diversion gave her the opportunity to continue her trek west down the street. She was about thirty yards away, walking as though she had not a care or concern in the world—like she hadn’t just been a witness to two men taking a load of buckshot in the chest.

  “What in the fuck was that about?” Robinson asked, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

  “I told you,” Aamod said. Then he racked the pump on the shotgun, spitting out an empty shell and chambering a new one.

  Robinson dusted some rocks and dirt off my shoulder. “Jimmy, you okay?”

  Okay?

  Not really.

  I was trembling. My head hurt. My heart felt like it was playing the kick drum to a Metallica song. And worse than anything, some dude spilled his guts to me—literally. But, wait, no, I take that back. The worst thing was I still had to try and get my grandma back from whatever wonderland she had wandered into, even though I knew it was probably impossible.

  “Better hurry and get her,” Robinson said. He looked over at Aamod. “You cover us.”

  Aamod nodded. You could tell he almost wanted to ice more of those goons, and he’d get his chance.

  We didn’t get two steps closer to my grandma before Robinson stopped and said, “Um … guys.”

  Half a dozen people emerged from both sides of the road, around my grandma, and began heading fast our way. In no time, six more joined them.

  “No, no,” I said.

  “How many more shots you go in that thing?” Robinson asked.

  Aamod looked down at the shotgun in his hands. “Four.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I began to slowly back up. “No, no, no. What are we gonna do now?”

  “Sorry, Jimmy,” Robinson said. “We got to go. We got to leave her.”

  “But…” I began.

  But nothing.

  He was right. The herd of twelve was coming in quick, now at a full run.

  I took a deep breath and whispered, “Goodbye.”

  Then the three of us took off back toward Robinson’s house.

  Chapter 31

  Run.

  Run.

  Run.

  It’s amazing how fast you can run when people are chasing you, and not in a friendly game of tag—people who want to hurt you, kill you, rip you to shreds. If nothing else, I was faster than Robinson and Aamod, so I wouldn’t be the first to die.

  Halfway back to the house we met up with Bowser. He had heard the gunshots.

  “What happened?” he asked, breaking into stride beside me. “Who are those people?”

  “Tell you later,” I said, huffing and puffing. My shins started to burn. “Just keep running.”

  Peaches was still outside when we reached the front of the house, bottle-feeding Olivia. Naima stood beside her, enjoying the sunrise.

  “Everybody inside!” Robinson yelled. “Now!”

  The house was no longer filled with smoke, only the smell lingered on. I ran to the guest room and pulled Sally, and the extra magazine I had for her, out of one of my suitcases. Robinson brought out two nine-millimeter handguns from a locked safe in his bedroom. He gave one to Bowser.

  “I’m sure you know how to use it,” he said.

  Bowser played dumb. “Just point and pull the trigger, right?”

  Since they had no protection, all four girls, including Olivia, hunkered down in the corner of the dining room. It was the only room that didn’t have any windows. Diego, who was also unarmed, would keep an eye on them, even though that really meant hugging on Luna. He had a badly bruised leg and could still barely walk by himself. Jax was lying beside him, trying to boost his spirits. The rest of us took up positions around the living room. Robinson and Aamod on the front end, Bowser and I guarding the rear. We hid behind furniture, guns ready to fire, and waited.

  Waited, holding our breath, sweating from the run, adrenaline giving us phony courage.

  The house was quieter than a church service filled with white people.

  But that would change.

  At any moment, the crowd of silent warriors would come through the front door, the back door, the windows.

  And so we waited.

  My hands were slick. I readjusted my grip on Sally, told myself I’d shoot any bastard that got near me or my new friends. No more shooting people in the legs. Shit just got real.

  Real fucking bad.

  And nasty.

  I rubbed my head with my free hand. It still hurt after the punch I’d taken. The bearded slayer sure had a solid overhand right. He wasn’t much for dodging buckshot, though—his flesh and blood covered my shirt and pants. I looked like a little kid after their first time eating lasagna, and not the vegetarian kind.

  “See anything?” Robinson said.

  Bowser moved closer to the sliding glass door, peaked outside.

  I checked my watch. Almost seven. The sun was still making its slow climb over the trees.

  Bowser looked back at Robinson and Aamod on opposite sides of the front door and shook his head.

  Olivia started crying. Peaches began rocking her to get her to quiet down, with only moderate success. She had Olivia’s baby bag slung around her shoulder in case we had to leave in a hurry.

  We waited and waited.

  Any minute.

  Finally, Bowser said, “I don’t think they’re coming. They probably just ran off.”

  Robinson moved toward the window next to the front door and slowly peeled open a corner of the curtain with the barrel of his ni
ne.

  “What do you see?” Aamod asked, kneeling down in front of the door with the shotgun grasped tightly in his hands. When Robinson didn’t respond, he stood up and looked out the peephole. “I think I see one.”

  Robinson moved away from the window and got back into position, back against the wall next to the door. “Get your ass down,” he said to Aamod.

  Aamod kneeled back down. “I thought I saw one. Maybe two.”

  Robinson shook his head. “Nope. There’s more than that.”

  “How many?” Bowser asked.

  “Five or six.”

  I set Sally down for a second so I could wipe the sweat out of my eyes. The house felt like the inside of an oven. “What happened to the rest of them?”

  Bowser again crawled next to the sliding glass door and peered out on the back deck. “Shit. Found ‘em.”

  “What?”

  “The rest of them,” Bowser said.

  “How many?”

  “Another five or six at least.”

  “They have the house surrounded,” Aamod said. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “What are they doing … waiting us out?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Robinson replied.

  “What then?”

  “They’re getting into position. They’re gonna come at us from all sides.”

  Well, that made me feel good. Yeah, I was feeling much better now.

  I glanced into the dining room. Peaches had managed to get Olivia to settle down by sticking a pacifier in her mouth. Beside her, Naima was fidgeting with her hands, which must have been sweaty because she kept wiping them on her pants. Next to her was Luna and her big, strong, slightly disabled protector, Diego. Luna looked more shaken up than Naima. Diego was whispering something in her ear, something that didn’t appear to be helping ease her anxiety.

  I turned back to look at Bowser, and about had a heart attack.

  Someone was standing on the other side of the sliding glass door looking in—a young woman, mid-twenties, with long, dark tangled hair, and sickly pale skin.

  I pointed. “There’s … there’s…”

  Jesus, get it out, Jimmy. Sentences, if possible.

  Bowser turned to look where I was pointing, and then jumped back in surprise. “What the…” He hurried to his feet and pointed his gun at the young woman. “What does this bitch think she’s doing?”

  Staring him down. That’s what she was doing.

  And we were staring her down, including Jax, who began barking.

  “What do you want me to do?” Bowser said, voice shaky. “Robbie…?”

  Robinson slowly got up and walked across the living room. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  Good answer. The same one I had.

  “I don’t see them anymore,” Bowser said.

  “See what?” I asked.

  “Them. They’re not in the backyard. They’re gone now. It’s just her.”

  A theory came to me then, a theory that almost instantly proved to be true.

  This woman was the sacrificial lamb, or better, the shiny object used to distract us.

  And it worked to perfection.

  Suddenly, the window next to the front door shattered. One by one, people began pouring inside, unfazed by the sharp shards of glass slicing open their arms and legs.

  I froze. I’m not proud of it, but I did.

  Robinson, being the consummate professional of the group, spun around and immediately began firing at the home invaders. I remember hearing somewhere (which means probably on the internet) that even trained police officers miss their targets eighty percent of the time. Nerves. They always gotta fuck things up.

  I don’t know if Robinson missed that often; it didn’t much matter. Aamod, being the all-too-eager type, or perhaps just super edgy, emptied all four remaining shotgun shells into the first guy that crawled through the window, rearranging his face and upper body. Shotguns were nasty at close range. They also couldn’t hold as many rounds. Once Aamod heard the click of an empty chamber, he high-tailed it away from the front of the house in a hurry.

  Bowser refused to take his eyes off the dark-haired woman on the back deck.

  “Jimmy, what are you doing?” Robinson yelled over the sound of his pistol. “Wake up!”

  I was awake. I sure wasn’t asleep. But I knew what he meant.

  Using the couch for cover, like Marcus Fenix from Gears of War, I began shooting at the window and the ever-escalating number of people attempting to pile through it. We were doing okay at keeping them back until a man sneaked out from the hallway and lunged for Robinson. I turned and took two shots at him but only managed to destroy a picture frame hanging on the wall. The sneaky man grabbed a hold of Robinson and tried to wrestle away the gun.

  Again I froze.

  What to do? What to do?

  The struggle for the gun quickly went to the ground.

  I couldn’t take a shot. If I did, there was a good chance I’d hit Robinson. I’d never forgive myself.

  So I stood up from behind the couch and put my sights back on the front window. In my moment of doubt, two people, a man and a woman, had crawled through the broken window—all bloodied up from the glass—and headed my way. I’d have enough time to change the magazine before they reached me. Luckily, Aamod leapt out from around the corner and cracked the man in the back of the head with the butt of his shotgun.

  I backed up, fumbled loading the new magazine. “Bowser.”

  Without hesitation, Bowser turned and fired three shots into the chest of the woman coming for me.

  She fell to the ground in a heap.

  These people might act a lot like zombies, I thought, as I got Sally up and running again, but at least you don’t have to shoot them in the head.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Aamod?

  I turned around. Nope. The young, dark-haired woman outside was banging her hands on the sliding glass door, screaming at the top of her lungs, exorcizing the demon.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  I liked them better when they kept their mouths shut.

  Through the chaos, I heard Olivia crying again.

  Robinson suddenly sprang to his feet. The sneaky man who had attacked him came up as well, holding Robinson’s nine-millimeter in his hands. He looked down at it like it was something from another planet. His moment of indecision proved to be his undoing, as it gave me the opportunity to take him out, saving Robinson.

  But another guy was coming through the window, and yet another from the hallway.

  All the while the mad screaming continued.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  “We have to get out of here,” I said.

  Robinson joined us at the back of the house. Since his gun was buried under a dead guy, I handed him mine, and he began shooting the latest intruders.

  “Everyone … out the back,” he yelled, blasting away. I was jealous of the way he was playing with Sally. “Bowser, clear the way.”

  Bowser began firing through the sliding glass door, shot after shot opening ugly red holes in the chest of the screamer. As each bullet hit her, she stumbled farther backward, until finally she fell off the back deck. Then Bowser and Aamod began clearing out some of the remaining glass with the butt of their guns. Once it was safe to go through, Bowser slipped out and made sure there weren’t any surprises waiting.

  “Come on. It’s clear.”

  The ladies went next, followed by Diego and me. Robinson was the last to leave, making sure Jax was behind him.

  We hurried down the steps on the side of the deck and around the side of the house. In the wooded area fifty yards away, more people were coming. We all saw them, and we all ignored them. They weren’t an immediate threat. As we reached the front lawn, more began to converge upon us from up and down the street.

  “What are we doing?” Bowser turned and yelled. He was still in the lead, looking for direction.

  “Get to the cars as fast as you can,” Robinson
said.

  “Where are we gonna go?” I asked.

  “Somewhere safe,” Robinson said. “Just follow me.”

  We separated out clean and nice. Bowser and Jax got into the police car with Robinson. Peaches and Olivia got in the front seat of grandma’s Buick with me. Naima got into the Toyota with her father. Luna and Diego, however, had fallen behind, likely because of Diego’s poor leg.

  Aamod and Robinson were already backing out of the driveway.

  “Hold on,” I said to Peaches, and then got back out of the car.

  Two homicidal maniacs were nearby, looking at Luna and Diego as easy prey.

  I whistled to draw their attention. “Hey. Over here.”

  Then when they turned on me, I filled their asses full of lead.

  I should point out killing people didn’t fill me with the slightest bit of joy, even killing psychos that wanted to kill me. It wasn’t something I stopped to think about. There was no time to evaluate my emotions. I had no feelings. Not compassion. Not anger. I was acting on pure instinct. I wanted to survive. That’s it. That’s all. And left with no other choice, I’d do anything to survive.

  I helped Luna carry Diego to the car. After they were in the backseat, doors shut, I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway Duke’s of Hazard style. Robinson and Aamod were already a little ways down the street, so I had to slam the gas to catch up. People crowded around the car, pounding their fists against the windows, trying to get at the five of us inside. I felt like a celebrity.

  I hit as many as I had to in order to get away.

  So much for keeping the car scratch-free.

  Thankfully, I didn’t see my grandma in the mob. I knew I’d probably seen her for the last time.

  When I had said goodbye in the road, I’d meant it. And I’d hoped somehow, through whatever uncanny energy that passed between us, she’d received the message.

  Chapter 32

  “Am I gonna get stuck out here?”

  “Nah, you’ll be fine,” Peaches said. “I’ve been out here a ton of times.”

  “In an old lady car?”

  “Well, no, usually in a truck. People come out here to party … or they used to.”

  Robinson led us down a dirt road that ran along the side of I-95. The road eventually curved around and came to a dead end at a small body of water connected to Lake Poinsett. There were tire tracks going every which way.