Savage: The End

by Snow, Jenika

  “I can’t.” Sasha stuttered out the words. “I don’t know how to get there without you.” She was hysterically crying now, the very thought of leaving her family, that they wanted her gone because they knew they were going to die, had devastation filling her.

  “You can. You will, honey. Your mother and I are sick. We aren’t getting better. Having you and Lucy here isn’t safe, not just because of how we are, of the risk of infecting you if we haven’t already, but because in situations like these people will become savage. They’ll take, and take, and take until there’s nothing left.” His voice grew harder and she felt his strength, his resolve. “Promise your mother and me that’ll you’ll take your sister and leave.”

  She was shaking her head, the tears and wracking sobs so consuming she couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.

  “Promise us, honey,” her mother said in a weak voice.

  Sasha pulled herself together and wiped the tears away. She held onto the edge of the door like her life depended on it. “I promise,” she whispered.

  God, could she actually keep it though?

  Chapter Two

  Darkness, my old friend

  “Tell me how you fucked up.” Malachi brought a cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. He held the smoke in his lungs for a second.

  He hated fucking smoking, loathed the taste of it, the stench that clung to him. But it was that damn fix he needed, that rush that the nicotine gave him. He exhaled, smoke billowing out in front of them as he stared at Phillip. “Go on, tell me why you’re on your knees in front of me in a grimy fucking alleyway right now.” Malachi had four guys with him, two on each side of him, all of them packing heat. Hell, Malachi had two guns on him at this very moment.

  He took a few steps toward Phillip and then crouched on his haunches, taking another drag off the cigarette, staring the asshole in the eyes. He blew out the smoke, the gray cloud covering Phillip’s face. The bastard had a busted lip, dried blood on his chin, a bloody nose, and a split eyebrow. His guys had roughed him up good, but then again Phillip had wronged him, stolen from him.

  “I-I—” he stuttered and licked his lips, looking down at the asphalt before bringing his gaze back up back up to Malachi’s. “I stole from you,” he finally admitted, his voice no more than a mere whisper now.

  “You stole from me, Phillip.” He flicked his cigarette aside and stood, feeling the blood rush through his veins, adrenaline consuming him. “You took my product. You know what happens to people who take from me.”

  Malachi’s fingers itched to deliver violence, his adrenaline a force of nature within him. He wasn’t a good man, never had been, and never would be. His childhood had been fucked up, with an absentee mother and an abusive, drunken father. But there had been a ray of light in all that fucking darkness.

  His sister Adelina.

  Just thinking about her caused his cold, dead heart to ache something fucking fierce.

  But just like everything else in his godforsaken life, in this unforgiving, bastardly world, she’d been taken from him.

  Dead at the tender age of eighteen.

  Killed by a boyfriend who’d used her as a punching bag, killed by the man who should have protected her, loved her.

  I should have protected her.

  But he’d been too fucking focused on himself to save his baby sister. He’d run with the wrong crowd, gotten into fights, pushed drugs to make money. He did all of that to survive, to not have to go back to his broken home and get beat up by his old man.

  That gritty life had shaped him, made him the person he was today… a drug lord, an underground king.

  He was a bastard, a killer. He had no remorse, no empathy. When shit needed to go down, he made sure that happened. And when people stole from him they met the barrel of his gun.

  “It was just an ounce, Malachi. Just an ounce.” The fear came off of Phillip in waves, but Malachi was used to that. He was used to taking that into himself, absorbing it to become stronger.

  Although he was a bastard, his emotions shut off, that didn’t mean he didn’t know all the acts he did were depraved.

  He reached behind himself, pulled out the gun that was tucked in the waistband at the small of his back, and cocked it. He stared into Phillip’s eyes, hearing him pleading, begging for his life. “Never trust a junkie,” he said, letting his body go rigid, his heart go cold. “And you’re one of the biggest junkies I know, Phillip. It’s what helped keep me in business, your need for my product. But then you fucked me over by stealing. I have to make an example of you, have to show everyone else what will happen if they go up against me.” Phillip begged more, and the sight of him pissing his pants didn’t even faze Malachi. He’d heard and seen this far too many times. “You knew that and still took the risk. I have to give you credit. That takes some balls.”

  “Chi. Please. With everything going on in the world surely you can overlook this just once? Let me have a chance to survive the shitstorm going on.” Blood ran out of Phillip’s nose, a slow drip that landed on his once white shirt. Malachi didn’t know if that was from the right hook Xavier had given him, or the coke Phillip had snorted when they found him in that piece of shit trailer outside of town.

  It didn’t matter either way. This had to be done.

  “This world has always been a shitstorm, Phillip. It’s just finally caught up with everyone else.”

  The virus, a nasty motherfucker that was sweeping through the country, hell, the world, was taking everyone under. People were dropping like flies, but that didn’t make any difference to Malachi. He had a business to run, product to push. If he wanted to stay above, rule his underground world, virus or no virus, he still had to do his shit.

  He lifted his hand and pointed the gun at Phillip, pressed the barrel right between the junkie’s eyes, stared at him, and saw the fear coming off of him.

  Then he pulled the trigger, watched as Phillip’s body bowed before falling backward, blood pooling beneath his skull from the hole in the middle of his forehead. Malachi stared at his lifeless body for a suspended second, and then motioned for his men to clean up the mess.

  Made no difference that the world was going to hell. In fact, Malachi welcomed it.

  He’d be right at home.

  Chapter Three

  It’s never easy to say goodbye

  Two days later

  Sasha tossed all the supplies and bags in the back of the car, slammed the trunk shut, and walked over to the driver’s side. She could see Lucy sitting in the passenger seat, her head down, her long blond hair shielding her face. She knew her sister was scared, maybe even broken over all of this. Hell, Sasha was as well, but she had to be strong, had to show her sister that she could carry both of them.

  She opened the door and held on to the edge, staring at the house she’d grown up in, the place she’d called home. Her parents were in there, their lifeless bodies locked away in their bedroom, their crypt. She’d covered them with the blankets her mother had knitted, the ones that were faded and tattered, but meant so much to all of them.

  God, she wouldn’t cry, not when she had to be so strong right now.

  She wouldn’t forget, and she wouldn’t disappoint her father or mother. She’d survive, she’d make sure Lucy did as well. Screams and shouts were in the distance, a car alarm, the sound of a gun going off. It was dangerous out here and would only get worse.

  She turned around to look at the neighborhood she’d once ridden her bike through. This place had so many memories but now it was just a desolate, empty wasteland. Front doors were open, trash littered around the street and yards. She didn’t know who’d stayed or who had fled. She couldn’t stick around and find out, either. Sasha had to get Lucy and herself out of here, away from people in general.

  Now more than ever, that’s what was the most dangerous.

  If they didn’t get sick there were other things that could kill them. People would be savage, taking just like her father had warned her abo
ut. Her uncle’s cabin was hours away, nestled on several acres of wooded land. Unless someone knew where it was it was hidden, off the grid, it wouldn’t be found. Maybe some of her family had made it there? Maybe her aunt and uncle were waiting to see if they’d come?

  There was no electricity or running water. She used to hate visiting the cabin for that reason alone. Swimming in the lake had been the only entertainment in an otherwise Wi-Fi and electricity barren vacation. None of that mattered now. In fact, being off the grid during all of this was exactly what they needed, exactly how they’d stay alive.

  “Goodbye,” she said softly as she faced her house again, talking to her parents, who would no longer hear her.

  She climbed into the driver’s side seat and shut the door, put the key in the ignition, and cranked the engine. She could do this. Glancing over at Lucy, Sasha reached across and took her sister’s hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze until Lucy looked up at her, the curtain of her hair parting and showing her bright blue eyes.

  “Everything will be okay,” she said, those words having been spoken more than once since this all started.

  Sasha meant them. She’d make sure everything was okay. She would not lose Lucy.

  She would make them survive.

  * * *

  Driving through the city was pure anarchy. Cars lined up at gas stations, traffic bumper-to-bumper, people yelling, horns honking … it was stressful and crazy and she was scared as hell.

  Something was on fire in the distance, the scent of smoke strong in her nose, the sight of black clouds clear over the horizon. Sasha rolled up the windows and locked the doors. Things were too hectic and crazy. Everyone was panicking, survival mode kicking in. The thought of somebody trying to take what was theirs, their supplies, the clothes off their back, was too much of a fear.

  It seemed like everybody was headed out of the city, a smart move, but it meant that everything was at a standstill. Sasha looked over at Lucy, watching as her sister worried at her bottom lip, her white teeth biting at the soft flash as she stared out the passenger side window.

  Sasha grabbed her phone and went to her music, finding Lucy’s favorite song and hooking it up to the Bluetooth stereo. Soon the lyrics filled the interior of the car, an upbeat song that didn’t match what was going on in their lives. But still her sister looked out the window with detachment.

  Sasha faced forward, her hands wrapped around the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white. She started singing the song softly but with each passing second, she raised her voice, got into the music. She needed to get Lucy out of her shell, at least for this one moment. She needed to remind her that there was still life outside of the devastation.

  For a full minute, she sat there and sang, bobbing her head, shimmying and dancing on the seat. She kept glancing at Lucy, hoping to get a small smile at least. She nudged her in the shoulder, singing as high and loud as she could, her voice cracking, the fact she was butchering the song not lost on her.

  Lucy finally glanced over at her and lifted an eyebrow, then finally that smile cracked, her lips curving up and showing Sasha that her sister was still there, still had hope.

  Bent, not broken. That’s what they were. They’d heal. Sasha would make sure of it.

  Chapter Four

  The beginning or the end?

  It had taken her four hours to finally make it to the cabin. The traffic had been horrible, but at least the GPS still worked. She didn’t know how long that would be, didn’t know when or off the phones would end up going down, if things would eventually get fixed.

  Sasha pulled to a stop in front of her uncle’s cabin. There were no other cars around, which told her they were alone, to her disappointment. She’d hoped someone from her family would have made it up here already.

  They still might.

  Lucy had fallen asleep halfway into the trip and was still asleep now. Sasha didn’t want to wake her just yet so she gingerly left the car and walked up the porch steps to the front door. Rising on her toes, she lifted her arm and felt around the door jamb. Her fingertips brushed against the spare key and she grabbed it before righting herself.

  It had been years since they’d come up here as a family. There was a lake not far from the cabin, one they used to spend hours on every day either boating, jet skiing, or just sunbathing. That had been the only plus to these trips, but it looked like the one place she’d loathed coming to was now home.

  She looked at the car and saw Lucy still asleep. Facing the front door again, she unlocked it and pushed it open. A stale, musky odor slammed into her. It was clear the cabin hadn’t been aired out in quite some time.

  Sunlight filtered in through the faded flower printed curtains her aunt had put up years ago. Two couches, a coffee table, and a well-used fireplace sat to her right. A kitchen with a wooden island, one her uncle had built out of an old redwood tree, was in the center of the room. The dining room table sat to her left. Down the hall were a few bedrooms and a bathroom.

  She made her way down the hallway and checked the bedrooms. Everything was clean but the air inside the cabin was thick and old. She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Although they didn’t have electricity or running water, her uncle had rigged the sink so it worked from the cistern. The toilet, on the other hand, was a little more rustic. With a basin as the pot that needed to be emptied out after each use, the bathroom gave you the feeling of home comfort, but reminded you this was outdoor living at its finest.

  She looked at the bathtub, one of those old clawfoot ones her aunt had gotten at an auction. She remembered her mother and father filling up the tub with water they’d heated over a roaring fire outside. The baths, though, were few and far between. They mainly used a portable shower that had been set up outside the cabin by her father, one that used either rain water or lake water. It did the job, although Sasha had hated every minute of it.

  Sasha stared at herself in the mirror with its smears along the glass, its age evident. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and ran the back of her palm over the mirror, cleaning it off so she could see her face better. Her dark hair was piled high in a messy bun, loose strands hanging around her face from when she’d rolled the window down. Dark circles lined her big brown eyes … the same shade as her mother’s.

  Tears threatened to come, but she pushed them down. Not now.

  Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept a full night. Well before the sickness had hit. Resting her hands on the vanity and hanging her head, she closed her eyes and exhaled roughly.

  The plague. Even thinking that sounded absurd, like an end of the world movie or a line in a book. But it wasn’t fiction. This was her reality and she knew it was only going to get worse. There was no silver lining, no happy ending. She couldn’t see things getting better, but she hoped they did. She prayed they did.

  She walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. Sheets were covering the couches, dust accumulated on the once white fabric. She went over to the pantry and opened the door, seeing a few rows of canned goods, some freeze-dried fruits, and ready-made boxed meals sitting on the shelves. Who knew how old they were, but anything was helpful at this point.

  Rising on her toes, she grabbed a lantern from the top shelf, a stack of candles, and a box of matches. There were a few cases of batteries, but again, she didn’t know how old they were or how long they would last. As far as she knew it had been quite some time since anybody had been up here.

  Setting everything on the island, she went around the cabin and opened up the curtains to let some light in. The sound of footsteps on the porch told her that Lucy was awake and making her way in. Her sister stepped over the threshold a few moments later, a bag in each hand and a forlorn look on her face. They didn’t say anything as they headed back out to the car and made a few more trips, grabbing the boxes of food, the supplies, jugs of water, and the few gas cans her father had already kept in the back of the Jeep w
hen this all had started.

  The vehicle had been packed full of the supplies once it had all been said and done, her father and mother getting everything prepared for the worst-case scenario, before they’d gotten sick, before shit had hit the fan.

  Now they were living in their own personal hell.

  * * *

  Sasha sat across from Lucy at the table, the can of chili that they’d opened for dinner sitting uneaten in front of them. She picked up her spoon and pushed around the beans and meat, the most unappetizing food she’d ever seen. But that wasn’t why she wasn’t eating it. Since they’d gotten settled in a few hours ago all she’d been able to think about was their parents back at the house.

  She’d never see them again, never hear her mother singing in the kitchen as she made them dinner. They’d never see Lucy grow up. She forced herself not to cry, made sure she didn’t show that kind of weakness in front of Lucy. She was fragile right now, maybe forever. Sasha had to be strong for both of them. She had to make her see that she had things under control.

  The fire crackled in the hearth and she looked over at the flames. There was a small woodshed beside the cabin and she’d gathered as many logs as she could and brought them inside before it had gotten dark. She didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire, but thanks to some old newspaper and the little bit of lighter fluid that had been sitting next to the hearth, they had something to heat up this godawful dinner and keep them warm tonight.

  Sasha needed to figure out how to make this work out for them. Wood needed to be chopped, especially when the winner came. The food would only last so long, so she had to figure out how to provide for them. There was always fishing, which wouldn’t be so hard to manage during the summer months. She could dry the fish, maybe smoke it. She remembered watching her father and uncle as they’d smoked salmon one summer.