This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)

by Craig DiLouie

  Samuel nodded. The more Mara talked, the more he shifted in his seat. The delicate strumming of the bluesman started to erode his patience.

  “Tommy climbed into the backseat and started immediately yapping about practice. I turned the music down to let Tommy have his say. It’s not like Mom or Dad was going to ask him about practice when we got home.

  “I made a right out of the parking lot and eased on to Route 24. The four-lane cut right through our hometown. Strip malls and used-car lots straddled it with an occasional stoplight thrown in to allow greedy idiots out of the big-box stores with their plastic crap.”

  Samuel smiled. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and began shooting glances about the room. The patrons continued on their individual pursuits, and the notes coming from the guitar strings felt like death by a thousand cuts.

  “Like I said, it was December, dark and cold. With snow. But that wasn’t really a factor in it.”

  A wheeze escaped Samuel’s lips.

  “I passed through a busier section of 24, closer to the stretch with the car dealerships. They were all closed, but there was an Italian restaurant across the street from one that always served dinner late. We were driving at about forty-five, keeping the limit. We had some old-school Metallica jamming. Pretty sure it was Ride the Lightning, probably “Fade to Black.” Tommy and me, we loved that song. The dynamics are brutal.

  “There weren’t many cars on the road, but enough to keep the headlights dancing in the mirrors. Tommy shifted into the center area of the backseat, finding some way to do that while keeping the seatbelt fastened. He knew I’d friggin’ flip if he didn’t have it on.”

  Mara shifted in her seat and drew a breath. She had doled out as many of the inconsequential details as she could, and now it was time to tell Samuel what he wanted to know.

  “There was a car in front of me, maybe a hundred yards or so, and nobody behind. We were in the left lane with nothing but faded lines on asphalt to separate us from the traffic going the other way.”

  Mara could no longer look at Samuel. Her vision clouded from the tears oozing from the corner of her eyes.

  “So anyway, the car in front hits the brakes hard. I see the flash and think he probably wanted a lasagna and passed the parking lot going forty-five or fifty. But then I got that feeling in my gut, the kind that probably comes from evolutionary instinct, if you believe in that kind of thing.

  “The car fishtails, and by now I’ve closed the distance and I’ve taken my foot off the accelerator. Dad always got pissed when I used the brake to slow down on the highway. He said if you remove your foot from the gas, you’ll slow down and won’t scare the shit out of the people behind you.

  “By now the car is spinning on the slick roads and I see the side of some featureless sedan. And as soon as it crosses to the right into the slow lane, I saw the headlights from a car coming in the opposite direction and crossing the double yellow line.”

  The blues player stopped strumming. The barista stood with a dirty dish rag in one hand and an empty mug in another. Everyone inside the coffee shop stopped and stood like motionless creatures trapped in a dying world. Samuel’s eyes shifted from one to the next as their skin, hair and clothing morphed into a greyscale curtain of despair. He watched as teeth fell out and eyes turned to obsidian voids. The oppressive silence of the reversion swallowed the hustle of the coffee shop. The smell of incense and roasted coffee disappeared as well. Samuel watched the lights dim, and the walls dropped their adornments like a tattered robe, allowing the crooked and rotten planks to show through.

  “The headlights looked like eyes,” Mara said. “I know that’s a corny cliché, but it’s true. The car looked like an angry beast. I remember starting to swerve the wheel in the midst of Tommy yelling. Time sped up and then slowed. I watched as the filaments in the headlights exploded on impact. That was the last thing I could see. I remember thinking I wasn’t even going to see the face of the other driver. Was it a man? Woman? Were they drunk, lost, disoriented? Were they courting death, like me?

  “The hood shot upward into the shape of an inverted V on impact. I can’t really explain the sound. You would literally piss your pants if you heard it. I think I did. I felt it more than I heard it. It was like the oncoming beast was eating my car.”

  Mara paused. She put a napkin to each eye while Samuel stared at his folded hands. More and more of the creatures from the dying locality appeared in the coffee shop in complete silence. They stood next to the table and behind Mara. Samuel tried not to look into those lost faces.

  “I’m short. I was short,” Mara said, stumbling over her existence within an unknown world buried in the dream of another. “The seatbelt locked and I felt the burn on my neck.”

  Samuel lifted his head and saw Mara tugging at the collar of her shirt. She pulled it down far enough for him to see the bruise he noticed when he arrived at the Barren.

  “And then blackness. I don’t remember pain, not sure what happened to Tommy, what happened to anything.”

  The tears came freely, without Mara using words to plug the dike.

  “I can’t even remember how long there was blackness. When I opened my eyes again, I was here,” she said, using an arm to scan the room of the standing undead. “Well, not here, but here in this locality.”

  “Where?” Samuel asked, unable to speak more than a single syllable.

  “Wandering through that fucking forest. The one where nooses hang like leaves from the branches. The one you came from.”

  He paused and put a hand over his mouth. “Do you think you’re dead?” he asked.

  “Do you think I’m dead?” she said. “I guess I wasn’t sure up until now.”

  Samuel felt the room shudder. The forms in front of his face shimmered as if the entire room were submersed in water. He lifted his shoulders, sensing what was coming.

  “I’m waking up.”

  He reached across the table to grasp Mara’s hand. She extended hers and looked into his face through puffy, red eyes.

  Samuel blinked the sleep from his eyes, staring at the back of Kole’s head as he slept on the floor of the cabin. Major glanced down at Samuel and then returned his stare to the window and the undead sentinels on the other side.

  Chapter 11

  The four of them sat like prisoners within the walls of the one-room cell. Major shifted every so often, bending and craning his neck to acquire a better view of the army of undead soldiers surrounding the cabin. Their presence destroyed the Barren and any hope of exploring it further. Mara and Samuel sat on their respective chairs, across from each other at the table, while Kole remained slumped on the floor, running his finger through the dust. One lonely pot of gruel remained, which they hoped would last for as long as they needed it. Major saved three cloudy bottles of water, now positioned at his feet.

  The harbinger of the reversion, the looming cloud, blotted out the sky. It devoured the tops of the trees and crept ever eastward in the march toward the end. Swirls of grey and slate slurry moved through the silent, roiling mass. Any light Samuel could remember from his arrival in this place had become a distant memory. The standing human remains continued to sway back and forth, as if caught in a slight breeze.

  Mara held her chin low on her chest and fidgeted with her hands. Samuel saw her fingernails and winced. Ragged lines of red ran down her cuticles, raw from her own teeth and saliva. Her once-luxurious, black hair, which radiated the ambient light of the coffee shop, lay in greasy, clumped masses, flakes of dandruff speckled like maggots on rotting meat. Samuel could not see her eyes, and he thought it was probably better this way. He didn’t think he could handle the sorrow contained in them. Every so often, Mara would sigh and shake her head, never raising it.

  “We’re running out of time.” Major spoke, the most he had in days, if days could still be measured here.

  “They’ve got us pinned down. You saw what happened when Kole tried getting through.”

  Kole looke
d up at the mention of his name and shrugged his shoulders.

  “What’s the cloud do?” Mara asked, head tilted upward but face covered in stringy hair.

  “It’s an eater of worlds. It leaves nothing behind.”

  “Will the creatures kill us? Can they kill us?” Samuel asked.

  “Death by zombie, eh?” Major asked with a chuckle. “Like running out to a cop and waving a gun in his face. This is the land of suicide.”

  “What about the wolves?” Samuel asked.

  Major sat upright and raised his eyebrows. “What about them?”

  “Are they gone? Did the cloud get to them already?”

  Major shrugged.

  “If we could get them here, it might be enough to distract the creatures outside,” Samuel said.

  “For what?” Kole asked. “Distract them so we can go where? Do you see the fucking storm brewing out there? I might opt for having my brains eaten instead of what that evil cloud might bring.”

  Mara dug her forehead into the heel of her palms.

  “I’m not ready to lie down and die,” Samuel said.

  “Yeah, well maybe you should be,” Kole said.

  “Is there any rope in this cabin?” Samuel asked.

  Major held both palms out. “Haven’t you had enough of swinging from the noose?”

  “Listen,” Samuel said. “I’m climbing to the roof and then, with rope and the low-hanging branches, I’m getting out in front of the horde.”

  “They’re as far as the eye can see,” Kole said, referring to the undead swarming the land.

  “But they’re slow. If I can get out in front, there might be a chance.”

  “Better than sitting here,” Mara said.

  Major pushed a chair aside and opened a cabinet near the table, lifting out a bucket. Tied to the handle was a coiled rope.

  “The hemp looks rotted and shaky. But it’s all yours if you want it,” Major said.

  Samuel stood and grabbed it. He untied the knot from the handle and pulled a three-foot section taut. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Major. The old man smiled and looked at Kole. Kole shook his head and went back to circling his finger around a knot in the floorboard. Mara stood.

  “Looks like they’re a few yards away from the front door. If you get out there quickly, you might be able to shimmy up the corner post and hop onto the roof of the cabin before they close in.”

  “Any other suggestions?” Samuel asked, trying to keep the glimmer of hope from overtaking reality.

  “Yeah, send the bitch first,” Kole said.

  Samuel ignored him. He set the rope down on the floor and began to pull it through his hands, a foot or two at a time. He noticed several places where the fibers felt weak or had begun to unravel, but not enough for him to consider cutting it and using a shorter piece. Samuel guessed he had about twenty feet of rope he could depend on and another ten that could snap under pressure.

  “Please get us out of here,” Mara whispered.

  Samuel nodded.

  Mara rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on Samuel’s lips. He felt the push of her warm breath on his mouth and the excitement of having a woman so close. But when her lips contacted his, his mind reeled. Conflicting emotions and deep sorrow raced through his body.

  “Time is short,” Major said, breaking the spell. “Take this knife. It ain’t much, but…”

  Samuel looked at Mara and did not speak. She sat back down on the chair and crossed her legs. Major stepped between her and Samuel.

  “Consider going east. If you can get out in front of the horde, that’s great, but it’s the cloud you’re really racing.”

  Major shoved his hand out to Samuel, and the two men shook. Kole waved them off without moving from the floor.

  “Get high and do it fast. The longer you stay on the ground, the easier it will be for them to pin you down,” Major said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Samuel said, searching for a more convincing line and not finding it.

  Major walked toward the door, followed by Samuel. Mara remained, as did Kole, who didn’t bother looking up. The old man placed one hand on the knob and the other on the back of the door. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After springing them open, he turned to face Samuel.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Samuel nodded.

  Major turned the squeaky knob with one hand and yanked the plank door open. The front line of the horde turned their empty faces from the ground to the cabin. Mouths hung open in silent screams as the dirt shuffled beneath their feet. Samuel stood, fixed to the cabin floor as the creatures moved toward him. He froze, his mouth turning dry and his heart accelerating in his chest.

  “And out you go,” Kole said from behind him.

  Samuel felt two hands strike his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling to the ground in front of the cabin. He spun around in time to see Kole’s wicked grin disappearing behind the door.

  ***

  The first thing Samuel did was reach down to secure the knife on his hip. He lifted his head and saw feet moving toward him, sending up clouds of brown dust. Most of them were bare, and many had bones poking through thin skin.

  Samuel pushed off the ground and onto his backside. He watched dozens of the horde meander in his direction, arms at their sides and heads cocked in one direction. Their black orbs remained open with an empty stare, as if they felt his presence.

  Samuel glanced back at the window of the cabin to see shifting, pale faces behind the greasy film coating the panes. He looked to the right, where a support post held the roof. Samuel stood and gripped the top of the post with both hands. He used his upper body to pull himself toward the roof, his legs locked around the pole to prevent a slide back down. He heaved his body onto the mossy, wooden-shake roof and rolled onto his back before pulling his legs up, too. The formless, silent cloud tumbled in the space where the sky used to be. It looked down on Samuel, and he thought he detected motion from left to right, the cloud heading toward the east to conclude its consummation of this place. Swirls of deep grey extended out and contracted like oil in water. Before he could lose himself in the shapeless horror of it, he felt the cabin shudder.

  Samuel leaned over the edge and gazed out upon a sea of creatures shambling toward the cabin ten feet below. He watched countless heads with tufts of tangled hair pushing forward like a crowd at a rock concert. They nudged and leaned on each other but never stopped moving forward. He noticed they didn’t try to open the door or break the window. They had no concern for those inside, the ones the reversion would swallow whole. Instead, they gathered under the support pole, pursuing him, the one who left the sanctity of their final resting place, attempting to escape the inevitable.

  Samuel looked down and watched as hands reached into the air like the filaments of a jellyfish, slim, random movements in an ocean of certain decay. The horde either could not or did not want to climb. Samuel considered the roof his temporary haven and sat down to think. He unfurled the rope and took one end in his hands. He wrapped it around his waist and tied the best knot he could before standing and assessing the trees. A tall oak stood about twenty feet from the edge of the roof, far out of his reach. However, one of its major branches sagged low, angling five feet from the cabin. He spun in a circle to verify this was the only tree close enough to attempt what he knew had to be done.

  Samuel tied the loose end of the rope into a bulge of knots. If he could toss it over the branch and have it swing back like a pendulum, he might be able to grab it and pull himself on to the low-hanging branch like an adventure-seeker gripping a zip-line. He moved as close to the edge as possible, prompting the horde to flow to that side of the cabin. Most kept their heads down like obedient cattle, but several began raising their bony arms, reaching for him.

  He cocked his arm back and let the rope fly. It smacked off the bottom of the trunk, nowhere near the branch, and swung low over the heads of the creatures on the ground. They could not react fast enough to grab i
t, but their shuffling became more rapid, as though they sensed what he was trying to do. He reared back again. This time, the knotted end cleared the branch, but he missed it when it came swinging back underneath. Samuel yanked at the rope and pulled it back for a third try. Again, he lobbed the rope clear of the branch, and caught it. Samuel pulled the rope taut, tied both ends together, and leapt from the roof with both hands on the rope.

  At first, he swung back and forth, his feet kicking in air in a vain attempt to slow his momentum. He closed his eyes and imagined the old, frayed hemp snapping and dropping him ten feet to the ground amidst the undead. Samuel shook his head and cleared his vision. He waited as gravity slowed his swing until the rope rested perpendicular to the ground, suspending him above the horde.

  Gravity and physics, my safety net, he thought, thankful the reversion hadn’t violated universal laws.

  Samuel used his hands to pull himself up the rope five feet until he was within reach of the branch. It stuck out from the tree trunk like a bony, crooked finger and Samuel was not sure it would hold his weight. He felt the burn in his biceps and chest. Samuel never thought the pull-up bar in his basement was good for much more than a bump on the head when walking underneath it. Now he was thankful for those early morning workouts that concluded with fifty reps. He clawed the bark until he had enough room to swing his left leg over the branch. Within seconds, he straddled it, looking down at the horde.

  Like a logger, Samuel quickly removed the slack from the rope and shuffled forward fifteen feet until he reached the main trunk of the old tree. He pulled himself up and stood with his feet together, plenty of room to turn and push his back against the trunk. He took a deep breath and let a smile creep across his face. It wasn’t much, but he had made it out of the cabin to a place the horde couldn’t reach.