This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)
Page 101
***
Major let Samuel take the bunk as he slept on the floor. He thought Samuel’s body needed time to adjust but he had spent enough time in the reversion to know sleep was never like it was before.
They awoke feeling no more refreshed than the night before. Samuel opened his eyes and watched Major remove two cylindrical objects from his bag and place them on the floor. The designs on the labels had long since faded. Major used a tool from his belt and pried the lid off the can. A faint and barely recognizable scent rose from the floor.
“Sauerkraut?” Major asked. He handed a can to Samuel while using two fingers to dig into his own.
“Cabbage of some sort, right?”
Major nodded while shoving more of the wet, cold breakfast into his mouth. Samuel scooped up a handful and felt the consistency of the substance, detecting a hint of salt, but the sensation dissipated until he was left eating a tasteless, odorless meal.
“I thought I remembered sauerkraut being really strong.”
“You’ll get those feelings or intuitions the longer you’re here. It’s like your mind slowly unrolls them for you so your psyche isn’t run over by the flood of data.”
Samuel let the comment roll around toward the back of his head. “Why isn’t this cabbage strong? Why can’t I smell it or taste it?”
Samuel stopped and cocked his head sideways.
“I don’t know,” Major said. “I mean, I can feel it. I know you have, too. Things here feel like they’re not quite a hundred percent. You know what I mean? Just look at the tint of any flame you light here. It’s always off, some shade of yellow or green. The sun, the odors, my taste buds. None of them operate at full speed. This place feels like it’s at sixty percent.”
Major smiled while Samuel stared at the floor.
“Each place seems to have constants but with slight variations. They all keep a thread that unifies them. Like our blind men chasing the lion, they’ll never grab a beak or a fin. They could grab a stub of an amputated tail or half of an ear that was bitten off in a fight, but it will always be lion-like. Never not lion-like.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“Neither do I, but you get used to it with each passing cycle. Eat your sauerkraut. We need to get out of this cabin before Wolfman Jack and his crew come back to finish you off.”
They finished their meal and sat on the edge of the bunk while their stomachs rumbled in protest. Samuel glanced at the framed photograph leaning against the wall. Major nodded toward the nail.
“Can’t hurt to put it back,” Major said.
Samuel stood and replaced the photograph on the wall. He stepped back and looked again, nudging the corner up until the frame hung straight.
“That shit pops up everywhere.”
“What does?”
“Reflections. These little reminders of other places. They don’t ever seem to be as vibrant as the originals. That’s why I call them reflections.”
Samuel nodded.
“And there’s no point in trying to take the reflections with you. Your attention will be somewhere else, and when you look back, the reflection will be gone. I know you considered rolling that photo up and tucking it in your waistband, but you’d end up with nothing but a blank piece of photo paper sooner than you realize. Best to leave it here and not torture yourself with it.”
“Where to?” Samuel asked. He dusted his pants off and faced away from the photograph.
“I’ve got a feeling someone who can help us has popped out. He’s at least a two-day hike from here, and through some pretty tough shit. Gonna make the fight with those wolves seem like walking your dog in the park. Plus, I’ve got two other friends I’d like you to meet.”
Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Or I could sit in this cabin, staring at the reflection on the wall while waiting for death.”
“Something like that,” Major said.
Chapter 6
Both men slept the entire day and through the next night. The reversion distorted time in a way that left them groggy and slow despite the hours spent asleep. Samuel opened his eyes and saw Major sitting on the same chair, rubbing a sharpening stone over multiple blades. The rhythmic scraping annoyed him. The meager light penetrating the slate skies had returned, signaling a faint resemblance to the mornings of Samuel’s old life. He reached up to his neck and let his fingers trace the interlocking spirals of the medallion hanging from the leather string.
“What’s that?” Major asked, his eyes making contact with Samuel’s while the sharpening stone continued working on the blade of a curved knife.
“A triskelion. Some call it a triskele.”
Samuel hesitated, surprised the information was so readily available to his brain. Major saw the look on his face.
“That reflection on the wall is starting to jar things loose. Go ahead. I’m sure you can recall what it is and why you’re wearing it. I’d like to hear about that.”
Samuel paused and closed his eyes. He could feel the triskelion on his neck and felt the knowledge seeping back into his head.
“They’re not sure where it came from, but most archaeologists date it to the European Iron Age, Celtic in origin.”
“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about,” Major said as he smiled. “Go on.”
“They had some evidence the symbol was used for a very long time, as early as the Greek and Mycenaean civilizations centuries earlier, but the Europeans assimilated it. Wales, Brittany, they all used a variation of the form.”
Major waited as the blade slid back and forth across the stone.
“QUOCUNQUE JECERIS STABIT. Wherever you throw it, it will stand.”
“Latin, right?” Major asked.
“Yes. It’s a motto on a coat of arms. Olaf the Black.”
Samuel stopped and rubbed his head. It felt as though a door opened, one he struggled to pry loose from the rusty hinges of his damaged mind.
“Historian? Archaeologist? Maybe you just read a lot,” Major said.
“Yeah, could be,” Samuel said. “The Nazis corrupted a version for the Third Reich. I think it represents timeless human symbolism, like the cross.”
Samuel stopped as he discovered the flow of information behind the door. There was nothing more to unearth, at least during this conversation.
“Nazis. I’ve seen reflections of them, too. Mostly the swastika on armbands or officer caps. Not much more.”
“Where did you see this stuff?” Samuel asked.
Major shook his head. “My blades are sharp. Got your stuff together?”
***
The two men stepped out of the cabin. Samuel drew a deep breath and noted he could no longer smell the pine needles underfoot. The forest felt as silent as a snowstorm blanketing the landscape. Even the air felt dead on his skin. He detected an absence of temperature, as if this place existed in a vacuum.
Major looked down into the valley and then back toward the summit, which stuck out over the chimney of the cabin. He secured his belt and sheath over his left hip, pulled the black headband down over his forehead and nodded at Samuel.
“Reversion.”
Samuel stared at Major and shrugged his shoulders.
“Is that why this place doesn’t have odors, sounds?”
“I think so. This place is in a reversion. Rewind. It’s ‘undoing’ itself. We’ll have a lot of time to talk during the hike. I’d rather set off now before the alpha male returns. Let’s go.”
Before Samuel could reply, a lone howl pierced the atmosphere and raised the hairs on his neck.
“Guess we won’t have to wait long, after all,” Major said. “Your biggest fan is back.”
***
The wolf glared at the hunters by his side.
They set forth.
The other hunters snapped and paced in circles.
Yes. Now there are two. The old man has returned seeking his escape. We are not to allow either, as He has spoken. Take the elder down first.
The pack wound through the trees until the forest thinned with the rising elevation. Their sinewy bodies moved through the underbrush in silence, the leaves no longer rustling in the stillness of the air. When the alpha male crested the last rise, he could see the tip of the chimney protruding from the top of the cabin.
They wait for us.
He broke into an even-paced run, with seven hunters in line behind him.
***
“They will always go for the throat,” Major said.
“Are they reflections?” Samuel asked.
“I’m not sure, and I don’t want to find out the hard way. They want you, not me, but they will attack anything that gets in their way. If they are sentient creatures, they no doubt feel the reversion like we do. They’re in self-preservation mode, and that means they will fight to the death.”
Samuel drew a deep breath and nodded. Major shoved his hand underneath his coat and removed another curved blade. He squeezed the blunt edge between his thumb and forefinger and spun the handle toward Samuel in one motion.
“Ever use one of these?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Samuel said. “I can’t quite remember.”
“The early Arabs called it a scimitar.”
“Sounds like you have some history in your background as well,” Samuel said.
Major ignored the comment and continued. “They’re designed to be light and used to slash in a diagonal direction, not a stabbing motion. If you strike across the muzzles of the wolves, you’ll make it impossible for them to clamp their jaws on your throat.”
That visual made Samuel shudder.
“And the blade is extremely sharp. Remember that on your follow through.”
Samuel nodded. “What happened to your shotgun?”
“This,” Major said, holding two empty shell cases in the palm of his hand. “No sporting goods stores around here.”
“What’s our strategy against the pack?” Samuel asked. “What’s the best way to take them out?”
“I have no idea,” Major said. “I’ve never fought a wolf before.”
Before Samuel could respond or find a way to deal with his fear, the alpha male appeared from the edge of the tree line. The creature strutted up the slope with several hunters following him. His feral, yellow eyes never left Samuel. They seemed to float through the thick blanket of perpetual dusk that draped this place.
***
The men stood shoulder to shoulder with their weapons drawn. A bead of sweat rolled down Samuel’s nose and dropped to his upper lip as they watched the wolves trot toward the cabin. The wolves knew their prey would not run or lock themselves in the structure this time.
The young one is mine.
The other hunters whined and gathered to the left of the alpha male. They spread out until they formed an arc that faced the old one, and the alpha male fanned out to the right until his trajectory aligned with the young one. They stopped twenty yards from the cabin. Several of the wolves snarled and began throwing their heads toward the sky. The alpha male felt the hypnotic pull of the moon. He searched the heavens for the celestial body, but could not locate it. Millions of years of evolution, interrupted by the reversion, left him feeling out of sync, distraught. He shook his head and picked up the pace toward his prey.
***
“I’m ready.”
“You’d better be,” Major said. “The alpha male wants you all for himself.”
Before Samuel could say another word, he saw the rest of the pack spring into a run toward Major. Through the corner of his eye, he saw a blaze of fur, teeth and those yellow eyes. Major bent his knees and raised his arms, ready to slash at the first beasts to reach him.
Samuel glanced back and noticed the alpha male closed the gap and was within an arm’s reach of him. He dropped to his knees and raised the scimitar as the alpha male lunged over his head. He felt the movement of air caused by the beast and rolled over. Samuel jumped and spun in the opposite direction as the wolf came back at him. The creature paused and bared its teeth, and Samuel felt a stabbing pain in the middle of his head. Pressing a palm to his forehead, he could feel someone or something else inside, like a cancerous intruder.
I must devour you. I must honor His command or I will die with this world.
Samuel felt the words enter his mind rather than his ears. He blinked and looked at the alpha male.
“Why?” he asked.
You are my reflection.
Samuel shook his head and raised the knife to a defensive position. The alpha male took three long strides forward and stopped. He bared his teeth at Samuel before darting off in the other direction, toward the rest of the pack surrounding Major.
The other hunters pushed Major back against the rear wall of the cabin. He stood with a knife in each hand and a wicked smile on his face. The wolves, ears up, pinned him there until the alpha male came up from behind.
“I’m waiting,” Major said to the wolves.
Take him.
The hunters lunged forward. One locked its jaw around Major’s ankle while another reeled back from the slash that opened its throat. The wolf died before it hit the ground. Another wolf bit into Major’s left arm while two more flanked the alpha male. Major brought the blade in his right hand across his body until it slashed the muzzle of the wolf on his arm. He heard a whine and felt the pressure release on his wrist, followed by the warming pain of torn flesh. He brought the heel of one boot down on the head of the wolf latching to his ankle. The animal let his leg loose and stumbled into the wall of the cabin.
The alpha male howled, and his two sentries ran at Major. One leapt at his throat while the other bit at the injured ankle. Major cried out as the wolf’s teeth snapped at his chin. He turned in toward the cabin wall in a desperate attempt to knock the animals loose. When Major dropped to his knees, the alpha male came forward. He opened his mouth, and his eyes flared yellow in the disappearing light. The wolf reared back on its hind legs, ready to lunge.
Samuel came around the corner as the alpha male leapt at Major. He felt his breath catch as he realized when the wolf finished with Major, he would be next. Major caught the wolf on his chest, the weight of the beast spinning him to one side and knocking him backward over a downed tree limb. The mixture of man and beast rolled to a stop. The alpha male sprang to his feet and, a second later, Samuel landed on him. He had his hands around the wolf’s neck, his fingers gripping fur while the alpha male snapped at his face. With his upper body pointing down the slope, Samuel brought both legs up and in front of the alpha male until the back of his calves rested on the wolf’s head. In one motion, he brought his legs back, heels first, driving the beast to the ground. Samuel heard the yelp and the cracking of bone on the hard earth, and he stood and kicked the alpha male in the ribs. He felt a surge of adrenaline at the beast’s cry and realized there was hope. The wolf jumped up and ran toward the tree line with one rear leg dangling in painful limbo.
As he watched the alpha male run, Samuel began to pursue the beast before he heard another scream from Major. He winced as the white underside of the alpha male’s tail disappeared beyond his sight.
We are not finished.
Samuel felt threatened by the thought, but he had to put it aside for now. He saw two more hunters approaching Major. A knife dropped during the fight rested near one of the steps, and Samuel lunged for it and spun with the sharp edge out, slicing an ear off one of the wolves. The animal cried out and scratched at the stump with one paw. Samuel knelt and sliced horizontally through the air, his blade cutting through the mangy fur and major arteries of the wolf’s neck. It flopped to the ground while blood poured from its wounds. By this time, Major maneuvered on top of the last remaining hunter and his knife was raised high, ready for the plunge.
Samuel took a step closer, staring at the carnage left by the batt
le with the pack. When he bent down to examine the tail of one wolf, another memory filled his head.
“He’s gone now, honey,” came the smooth, reassuring voice of his mother.
“Where?” asked Samuel, a boy of five.
“Up to heaven, with God.”
Samuel squeezed his wolfie doll tight. He inhaled the scent of stuffed animal and the smell of his sheets.
“Maybe Grandpa wants wolfie doll with him.”
Samuel’s mother smiled. She dabbed the corner of each eye with a balled tissue.
“He’d want you to keep wolfie, hon. Grandpa won’t need him in heaven. God will give him everything he needs.”
Samuel nodded. He looked down again at the corpse of his grandfather in the casket. The white satin lining made it appear as though the man was floating within a cloud. Samuel noticed the wedding ring and yellow, tobacco-stained fingertips of the man who had always given him spare nickels from his pockets. Samuel thought about the way the coins felt warm in his palm.
“Will he get his smokes in heaven?” Samuel asked.
“He will,” his mother said.
Several other goliaths towered over Samuel as they approached the casket to pay their final respects. Two men wore dark green uniforms slathered in medals of various sizes and shapes. They left the folded, triangular American flag next to the casket.
“Your gramps fought like hell for his country in World War Two,” one man said. The other simply stood with a face of stone.
Samuel’s mother patted her son on the head and bowed slightly to the uniformed man that spoke.
More adults came forward, each one speaking to Samuel’s mother with words meant for him.
That little boy closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Major sat on the ground, wrapping his wounds and staring at the tree line where the alpha male disappeared.
***
“Are you hurt?” Samuel asked.