The End of the World Running Club

by Adrian J. Walker

  Rupert leaned forward and poured the rest of the bottle into our glasses.

  “You didn’t,” said Harvey. “They didn’t make you clean up your own mum’s ashes in front of them, did they?”

  Rupert stood up and opened the stove. A wave of fierce heat blew into the room as he threw the rest of the wood on the fire.

  “I turned on my heels and left the drawing room. They all burst out laughing. I could hear them still hooting and caterwauling as I walked down the corridor, past the main hall, past the paintings of my mother and father hanging by the dining room, even as I crossed the kitchen and got out back. First day they arrived a few of them had found the hunting room, taken all the guns and shells for themselves. Expect they thought they’d need them for wherever they decided to go next. Thing is, they didn’t know about Daddy’s gun. That’s the one I use.”

  “The one you shot at us with,” said Bryce.

  “Yes. Yes, sorry about that,” said Rupert. Bryce waved away the apology.

  “Anyway,” Rupert went on. “I’d left Daddy’s gun down by the river in the boathouse, last time I’d been out shooting. Those buggers never went down there, just stayed inside all the bloody time. So down I went to get it, picked up a couple of shells and pumped them in on the way back. They were still laughing when I got back to the drawing room. Stopped dead when they saw me though. Silence. Nothing. Not a peep. I raised the gun and pointed it straight at the brute who’s still standing in my mother. He looked back at me, not so happy any more. Think he went to say something but I couldn’t hear what it was. Pulled the trigger. Boom. Just like that.”

  “Christ almighty!” said Harvey, eyes wide. “Did you kill him?”

  “Not much hope with a shotgun at that range I’m afraid. Flew back against the wall and dropped like a stone. Sprayed a bit of lead into a few of the scoundrels behind him as well.”

  “What did they do?” said Richard.

  “Panicked. Absolute pandemonium. They all start rushing around. One of the women runs over to the body and starts shouting at me saying, you killed him you old bastard and I say I’ll kill you too if you don’t clear out now, the lot of you, get out! Course I was worried they might fight back, get their own guns and shoot me. Not much I could have done in that situation with only one shell left, but they didn’t. Suppose they were too shocked. Besides, they’d probably never fired a gun before in their lives.”

  “Did they leave?” said Grimes.

  “Damn bloody right they left,” said Rupert. “Cleared off sharpish. Watched them running up the drive, most of them still crying or screaming or pulling on their clothes. Never saw them again. After that I was a bit more careful, kept a closer eye on things. But I’ve not left and nobody’s been back.” He looked up at us. “Not till you chaps, of course.”

  “How did you know?” said Bryce. “How did you know that we weren’t dangerous too?”

  Rupert fixed him with his one bright eye. “Gave me your word, didn’t you?” he said.

  “Aye, but…”

  “Moment you can’t take somebody on their word, might as well give up. Not worth it any more. Civilisation’s dead.” He banged a fist on the table and grunted to himself in satisfaction. “Besides, I know trouble when I see it. And you’re not trouble.”

  He turned to Grimes.

  “I know what happened, my dear. I may be an old man but I’m not senile.” He looked around at us. “We live on a rock. A rock that’s flying through a place filled with other rocks. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? We spent all those years worrying about what we were doing to it, scrubbing our tin cans for recycling and installing things to catch rainwater…” He turned to the window again. The blocks of grey light were fading to darkness, but the rain still pounded the glass. “Seems to me we should have been spending less time worrying about the garden. More time trying to find the gate.”

  “Amen to that,” said Bryce, raising his glass.

  The old man took a long, wavering breath through his nose and smiled at us.

  “So,” he said, frowning. “Cornwall, then, is it? Long way from here. How are you planning on getting there?”

  “We’re running,” said Richard. Rupert gave a slight splutter.

  “Come again?” he said.

  “We’re running,” repeated Richard.

  “Pah!” said Rupert, his face beaming. “I like that! Running indeed!” He threw back his head and laughed a long, wheezy laugh. There was no trace of mockery in it. It just tickled him. When he had finished, he looked around at us nodding.

  “So the world ends, and you lot start a running club. I’ll drink to that.”

  Bryce raised his glass and we followed. “To the end of the world,” he said.

  “To the end of the world running club,” said Lord Bartonmouth.

  Rupert ran us two baths in separate bathrooms, one at each end of the corridor at the back of the house. One was for Grimes, the other for the men. There wasn’t enough hot water to replenish after each turn, so we drew straws on order and I came last. Bryce had winked at me as we crossed paths at the doorway. I now lay in the long ivory tub of rain, grateful for the fact that only a single candle dappled the water with light in an otherwise dark room.

  The rest of the room was bare and grand. The bath stood next to a pair of long, blue curtains hanging open on the far wall. The window shook and rattled in the wind still circling the house and the rain made tortured patterns on the black glass, twisting rivulets endlessly seeking each other out, joining, breaking, shifting and shattering in some frantic, hopeless romance. There was nothing behind them - no lights, no shapes to make out in the darkness. I felt a timid sense of being under protection, but by something that might buckle and break at any moment. What was outside - the cold storm, the distance, the remains of a country that was no longer held together, perhaps whatever was making the animal howl I still heard every morning - was too large and too strong to be kept at bay. The water was hot and deep and I felt it go to work on my muscles. It would be good to take shelter in this old house, drinking an old Lord’s whisky and warming ourselves on his burning furniture, but I knew we would have to leave in the morning.

  I closed my eyes and let my thoughts run off, making shapes of Beth.

  I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly found myself looking up through the water. I sat up, spluttering and grasping for the sides of the bath. The water was now cool and the candle had spread into a buttery cloud of melted wax by the taps. I wiped my face and pushed myself up and onto my feet, steadying myself when I felt the weakness in my thighs and calves, then very slowly got out of the bath and stood dripping on the cold tiles.

  Rupert had found us some clothes to wear while ours dried by his stove. He had given us a small candlelit tour of the house as he searched for them (avoiding one closed door without comment which I assumed led into the drawing room where he had shot his unwanted guest). I have no idea how many lives had passed through this house over the centuries, but many of them seemed to have been remembered by their wardrobes, most of which were still filled with ancient dresses, suits, robes, uniforms and shoes. In one small cupboard was a line of green school uniforms, identical apart from their size, which grew from left to right along the rail.

  My outfit was found in a small bedroom at the end of the upstairs corridor littered with books and papers. He’d selected a pair of thick woollen trousers, a matching jacket and an off-white shirt with cuffs that were still crumpled from having been rolled up to the elbows. He had also very carefully chosen a pair of brown Y-fronts and long tennis socks from a drawer next to the cupboard, and a pair of brown brogues from the beneath the bed.

  I got dressed in the near dark. The difference between my age and that of the clothes could have been described in wars and funerals, not just decades, but the fabric felt strong and somehow luxurious, despite its fraying edges and fusty smell. When I had finished lacing the shoes, I took the remains of the candle and found my way out alo
ng the corridor, navigating towards the sound of low voices coming from a large room near the kitchen.

  The room was filled with heat. Broken strips of delicately carved wood crackled and spat in a gigantic hearth - more of Rupert’s furniture being burned. Candles surrounded the fire and lined the mantelpiece above it. Harvey and Richard were sitting next to it on a long sofa. They each held a glass of wine. Richard lay stretched out with his legs crossed and one long arm along the back cushion. Rupert had found him some hunting tweeds, which he was now wearing as comfortably as if they had been from his own wardrobe. Harvey was in a thick sailing jumper and red corduroys, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees and cradling his glass between them as he stared into the flames.

  Bryce was sitting with one leg crossed beneath the other in an armchair opposite. His hair hung down in wet, black ringlets and his beard glistened in the orange light. His size had made Rupert’s selection of clothing for him difficult. After some thought, he had decided that there was only one wardrobe which might contain something large enough to fit him. This had belonged to his wife’s sister, a very large woman who had lived with them in her dying years. Bryce was, therefore, now wearing a voluminous, pink night robe decorated with black Chinese lettering and pictures of swallows. Beneath, he appeared to be wearing two pairs of long walking socks that disappeared up over his knees. What lay beyond that was anybody’s guess. The three raised their glasses when they saw me.

  “Very smart,” said Harvey. He patted the seat next to him. “Come and sit down son.”

  I took a seat and Richard poured me a glass from a bottle that had been warming by the fire.

  “Took your time,” said Bryce. He wobbled his eyebrows at me, grinning. “Not easy is it, in another man’s bath. Can take a while for things to, you know, happen.”

  Richard leaned across and handed me my glass. “Bryce…” he warned.

  “You get there in the end though, eh?” He winked at me, nodding. “Know I did.”

  Harvey frowned and swiped the air at him. “Cut it out, Bryce!” he said.

  “God’s sake, Bryce, you didn’t, did you?” said Richard.

  “Ahm only jokin’ y’eejits,” said Bryce. “Think I’d take a wank in another man’s bath water? After youse pair had been in it before me? Christ’s sake, all them old pubes floating around and everything.”

  He sat back in his chair. “No way I’d be able to get a stiffy.” He gave me another wink and gulped his wine.

  “Where’s Grimes?” I said, trying to hurry the thoughts from my head.

  “No sign yet,” said Richard.

  “His lordship’s getting some food ready,” said Harvey.

  “Aye, no too soon either,” said Bryce. “I’m starving.”

  I suddenly realised how hungry I was too. We hadn’t eaten all day; the rain had made it impossible. At that moment I heard a clattering sound as Rupert walked in. He was carrying another tray, this one much larger, which I helped him lie carefully down on the table in front of the fire.

  “Dinner is served, gentlemen, dinner is served,” he said, straightening up. The tray was full of china bowls filled with a steaming brown stew. I looked more closely and saw cubes of grey meat encased in transparent jelly. The air was filled with a strong, gamey smell that made me recoil.

  “Is that…” said Harvey.

  “‘Fraid I wasn’t left with much after my guests left,” said Rupert. “All the fresh stuff gone, tins as well.” He motioned towards the bottle of wine. “Made quite a dent in the old Claret too. Only stuff they wouldn’t touch was, er, for the hounds. Used to buy all their grub in bulk, so, loads of it left. Mostly what I tend to eat these days. Tastes better heated up.”

  He looked around at us nervously.

  “Hope that’s alright,” he said. Then he wiped his shaking palm upon his shirt, reached for his collar with his finger, faltered and let the hand fall. The gesture gave me a sudden strange pang of loss and helplessness and I felt tears spring to the corners of my eyes. I wanted to pull the bowl towards me and eat it and tell him it was alright to be serving us dog food, that he was a good man for letting us stay, that he didn’t deserve to be living alone in an ancient, crumbling mansion without his wife. I caught myself, surprised at this sudden well of emotion, and wiped my hand across my eyes.

  We think that language binds us, keeps us close, but sometimes I wonder how far apart we really are. We can make a million assumptions from the movement of an old man’s hand, most of them probably incorrect. All we have to go on is our own skewed window on the world. We’re like hermits living in the attics of big houses on lonely hills, watching each other with broken telescopes.

  “All good with me,” said Bryce. He leaned forward and grabbed the bowl, shovelling a fork-load into his mouth. Suddenly he stopped, mid-chew, one cheek bulging with meat, and stared up at the door. Grimes had walked in. She was wearing a deep red velvet dress that ran to the floor. The tight line of the fabric ran from her upper thigh, over her hips and across the tight swell of her abdomen. Her hair was unclipped and fell in curls around her pale shoulders, light ringlets venturing further down towards the small, faint line of her cleavage.

  “Well I…” said Rupert. “I do say. You look beautiful. Remarkable.”

  She cast a shy gaze around the room. I noticed it landed for too long on Richard. This is when it finally clicked for me and I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. Ever since the barracks she had behaved differently around him than around the other men. Maybe I had assumed that this was down to his natural military authority, or that sense of easy entitlement he had, but it was clear to me now; she had feelings for him. As this all began to dawn on me, my eyes drifted over to Bryce, still mid-mouthful in his pink robe. He hadn’t moved a muscle. I heard him gulp his mouthful of dog food and rest the bowl back on the table. As he did so, he caught my eye and I saw him flinch from my gaze.

  “Feels a bit tight,” said Grimes, wriggling a little. “Your wife must have had quite a figure.”

  “She did,” said Rupert. “In her day, yes, she did. Thank you so much my dear, I did so want to see it worn again.”

  “That’s OK,” said Grimes. “It’s nice to be in something other than uniform for a change.”

  She smiled and looked down at the tray of steaming bowls.

  “Great,” she said. “What’s for dinner?”

  We ate the dog food quickly and in silence. It was better than the rat we had eaten by the stationery lorry and my own ravenous hunger overpowered the feelings of nausea that washed up and down my throat as I swallowed. When I had finished, I emptied the wine into my mouth and rinsed it around to rid it of the taste, but I had a feeling it would be with me for a few days.

  Rupert took the plates back to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding Alice’s stringyphone in his hands. I instinctively stood, stopping myself making a grab for it.

  “I found, er, this,” said Rupert. “You left it in the bathroom. Is it, er, important in some way?”

  I felt the others’ eyes on me. They had seen Alice and I talking on the stringyphone in the barracks, but I hadn’t told them I’d taken it with me when we left.

  “It’s my daughter’s,” I said. “She left it behind. I sort of…talk to her on it.”

  Rupert raised his eyebrows. “Talk to her?” he said, looking down at the cans and fraying string, turning them in his hands. Finally he nodded, as if he understood. “Used to play with these as a child. Me and my elder brother Godfrey. Made huge ones that stretched across the lawn. Wonderful fun. Wonderful.” He nodded, then passed the cans back to me.

  “You’ve been carrying them all this time?” said Richard.

  “Around my neck,” I said. “It helps. I can feel them, it reminds me.”

  “That’s nice, mate, really nice,” said Harvey, putting a hand on my shoulder. He looked around the room. “Hey, we should sign them, put our initials on them or something, what do you think?”

  Grimes an
d Richard nodded.

  “Would you mind, Ed?” said Richard. I shrugged and shook my head.

  “Just a mo,” said Rupert. He left through the door and returned a minute later with a short kitchen blade. “Bit blunt but should do the trick,” he said, passing it to me. I looked at the others.

  “You first,” said Grimes. I held the point of the blade between my thumb and forefinger and carefully scratched my initials at the bottom of one can. Richard went next. Bryce, who had said nothing, just looked at me, both hands on the arms of his chair, until the cans and knife arrived in his lap. He took his turn, then leaned across and offered the cans to me. As I took them, he held onto them a little and put his face close to mine.

  “I knew I liked you,” he said quietly, and let go.

  Then we got very drunk. Rupert brought in bottle after bottle of wine from his cellar, then port, then more of the ancient whisky, then more wine. He told us all about the house in its heyday, about his childhood, the grand parties and famous guests that had stayed. Whenever the conversation began to veer towards asteroids, we each somehow managed to steer it back onto something else. It was as if the subject itself was a friend who had already had too much to drink and couldn’t be trusted to talk in case he said something nobody wanted to hear.

  At one point Rupert mentioned the boats and things faltered.

  “Where do you think they’re headed?” said Harvey.

  “Who cares where they’re headed?” I blurted. “I’m not getting on them.”

  The room stared at me.

  “What do you mean, you’re not getting on them?” said Richard.

  “I’m just not,” I said. “Why would I? I’m finding my family and getting them out of there.”

  Richard put down his glass.

  “What?” he spat. “Where the hell do you think you’ll go?”

  “We were fine in the barracks,” I said. “Life was simple, we had everything we needed. Safety, shelter, food, water. All we have to do is hold out until things start to get back to normal. We’ve already started to see the sun coming through the clouds, which means that soon things will start growing again. We could grow vegetables, build greenhouses…”