Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  Nelly kneels and gives him an informal two-minute introduction to handguns. Once Peter can sight and hold the gun properly, the lesson is over. The only other thing that would help would be target practice, and we hope for none of that.

  Grafton pokes his head in the door. “Ready?” he asks the soldiers. “We have word they’re about a half klick away, headed this way, most likely. Lights are going off, just in case that draws them.”

  “Ready, Sarge,” replies a young Latino soldier. The others nod.

  “Remember, head shots,” Grafton says.

  The soldier who spoke looks at his compatriots. “If I get bitten, man, take me out. No waiting, even if I’m still alive.”

  A dark-skinned soldier gives him a playful palm to the back of the head. “Rodriguez, I’ve been waiting for the chance to shoot you. I volunteer.”

  All the guys laugh, and Rodriguez cuffs his buddy with a smile. “I’ll be sure to get you too, Park.”

  They all grin. It’s the last thing I see before the lights outside shut off and plunge the room into darkness. A small light comes on by the window. Grafton’s features are dark as he nears us. His jaw is tight, but he smiles and glances into the shadows, where we’ve lowered our guns. Nelly’s shotgun is parked under the chair behind him.

  “You have weapons?” he asks. Nelly nods reluctantly. “Well, we’re supposed to confiscate them, but I’m not doing that.”

  I relax. I have my doubts we’re getting the van back, but this gun isn’t going anywhere.

  “You might need them. We’ve seen the footage, and Lexers aren’t easily fought. They just don’t stop,” he says with something like wonder then looks out the window.

  “There’s a good chance we can hold them off. If it looks like we can’t beat them the best thing to do is run, if you can find a clear exit. Or head upstairs to the men on the roof. I’ve been told they’re able to crawl up staircases eventually, but they can’t open doors unless they can break them down. The door frames here are metal. It would take a lot to get through them. That one group in Chicago held them off for a week. We could do that, no problem.”

  His voice is a mumble; I think he might be talking to himself now.

  “Maybe the Middle East would’ve been better. At least that enemy is human.”

  And I guess he knows the truth about the infection, or has figured it out.

  “Okay, I’ve got to get back out with my men.” He nods once before leaving.

  23

  My mouth is stuck closed, and the water I sip does nothing. I strain my eyes and imagine things moving in the dark: a mass of infected like the ones who attacked the looters. Except I’m not safe on my roof right now, with months of food to eat and access to stored water below me. All we’ve got is what’s on our backs. We have two places to go: the Palisades and the upper floor of this building. The Lexers may not be able to make it up, but if there’s no water, all those people will be dead in a week, if not days, trapped up there.

  After what seems like forever, one of the radios carries a warning. “We have approximately one hundred Lexers heading our way. ETA of two minutes. Be ready, boys.”

  The soldiers stand at attention. A figure advances out of the gloom and nears the fence. It’s followed by another and another. The outside lights blaze to life, and I gasp at the sight.

  The main road is full of infected, of Lexers. They stumble their way over the grass and into the lot. The guns and soldiers make no impression on them, except to draw them closer.

  Shots ring out. A man with no lower jaw falls after the top of his head is blown off. A woman wearing a bright purple wrap dress drops to the ground with a well-placed shot. A little boy, who can’t be more than nine, limps to the fence. His mouth hangs open and his baseball cap has slid down over one eye, giving him a rakish look. His parents must be so worried about him. His parents might have been the ones who did this to him, I realize, and my mouth goes even drier.

  My legs grow weak. These people are dead. They’re dead, and they’re not. If I think about it too much I might go crazy, so I push the thought to the back of my mind. I watch the little boy stagger from a head shot, and it’s only when he drops to the ground, face-first, that I see his shirt wasn’t always brown. Before all the blood, it had been white.

  There’s an older woman who looks like an office worker, a doctor still wearing his white coat, a couple of men wearing orange road worker vests. They all fall, but the tide continues as they veer off the road.

  There are so many of them. They make it to the fence, where they push and pull and yank. I can hear them through the window, even over the gunshots. It’s a cacophony of low, rasping cries and drawn-out moans. It sounds like hunger, and we’re the food. I fight the urge to cover my ears with my hands and use them to clench my pistol. The gate swings alarmingly, but it holds.

  A flash of light out by the main road illuminates the room. The explosion makes us jump. For a few minutes they’re killed as fast as they come. But then Rodriguez points out the window and shouts. I visibly follow his finger, and the sight forces the air out of my lungs. I tighten my sweaty hold on my gun.

  A gigantic throng of infected follows the first. They trip and swarm over the road barricades they’ve knocked to the ground. All the noise must have attracted them. Rodriguez, Park and the others have a loud conversation over the gunfire.

  Rodriguez turns to us as they run out. “We’ve got to get out there,” he yells. “We’re gonna kill those motherLexers!”

  The Lexers at the fence push. Their fingers stretch through the wire, beckoning us. The fence buckles at the joints where the panels meet; the sheer force of hundreds of bodies is not something it’s made to withstand. I back up, right into a wide-eyed Penny.

  It sounds like the finale at the Fourth of July fireworks. My heart booms and my stomach pounds like a bass drum. Please, please, I chant along with it. Please. But, when the second group meets the first at the fence, it bends from the top and the bottom scrapes along the pavement. The seam between two panels of fence cracks. A Lexer on the ground slithers through. He’s missing an arm, and his shirt hangs open to reveal shredded skin and coagulated blood.

  “No!” Penny whispers.

  When she grabs my arm it stops my trembling. I can’t freak out now. She isn’t armed. And if the Army can’t protect us then we’re going to have to protect ourselves.

  The Lexer under the fence grasps a soldier’s foot and drags himself toward his ankle with his one good arm. His teeth sink into boot. The soldier cracks his head with the butt of his rifle and fires on the infected who follow.

  The bright lights turn their skin a garish white, which contrasts with the dark blood most wear. Some look like they’re hissing, but it isn’t with any real venom. It’s instinct alone. Their eyes are blank, soulless.

  The soldiers retreat into the building. Boots clatter and bang as some head to the roof and the shots resume in earnest. The gate bends lower and gives way with the sound of shearing metal. The Lexers pour through and squeeze between the vehicles. Now that the worst has happened, I’m calmer than I thought I could be. There’s only one thing to do.

  “We have to go,” Nelly says. “Grab your bags.”

  I throw my straps over my shoulders. The others hurl their heavy packs on and look to Nelly.

  “Out the back, to the Palisades?” he asks James and me. We nod.

  The soldiers in the lobby pile desks and chairs in front of the glass, while others herd the civilians up the stairs. The mother has the boy in her arms, and a soldier carries the screaming little girl.

  Grafton intercepts us. “Where are you going?” he yells.

  “The Palisades,” James answers.

  Grafton nods. “I can’t say when we’re going to get any backup, but I can’t leave them.”

  He gestures at the shell-shocked people. The glass of the front door shatters. A pale arm covered in dark brown hair pushes through the furniture. The jagged edges slice the skin, but i
t doesn’t stop.

  “Go now!” Grafton shouts. “We’ll keep them back as long as we can. Take the exit doors at the end of the hall. It’s clear behind us.”

  My pack’s waist strap is unbuckled, and it slams into me and throws me forward with every step. A piercing siren wails as the door flies open. Everyone is through except Peter. He hesitates.

  “Peter, come on!” I yell.

  His eyes are huge and he jumps at a crash from inside. “I said I’d—”

  I can’t believe he’s considering staying. We have to go now; there’s no time to argue.

  Ana leans in and pulls his sleeve. “Peter!”

  His pack throws him off balance, but he rights himself and staggers through the door. I push it closed before following them onto the grass.

  James raises his gun and shouts over the alarm. “Over there!”

  Three infected have rounded the corner of the building. Nelly and I aim, but before we can fire they land in three thumps on the ground. I look up in confusion.

  “We got you covered to the trees. Go!” shouts a dark form on the roof. I can’t be sure, but it sounds like Rodriguez. I’m glad he’s still alive.

  24

  We stumble over tree roots in the dark until we hit the chain-link fence. Penny’s hastily-produced flashlight throws a beam on the southbound lanes of the Palisades. No cars. No infected, either.

  Nelly locks his hands together to give me a boost. I straddle the fence and hit the other side with a thud. Penny and Ana drop down. Dead grass crunches under our feet as we move back so the guys can follow. James hushes us, but there are no sounds of pursuit. I think we would hear them; Lexers don’t have the sense to be stealthy.

  We race across the grassy median to where the northbound lanes glow in the moonlight. Shots continue to ring out, but they’re slowing. I don’t know whether that’s good or bad. The only other sounds are our breathing and footfalls. My breath is short and my muscles are tight, but I think I could keep walking along this asphalt road and never, ever stop. I’m not sure how long we walk before we see flashing lights ahead.

  James reads the map by a light Penny shelters in her cupped hands. “Looks like an entrance ramp. We can make it down to the Hudson Drive here. What do you guys think?”

  “Maybe we should,” I say. “The farther away we are, the better.”

  We walk single file in the shadows of the trees. There’s nobody in or around the police cars. Maybe they were called away. Maybe they’re dead. Or maybe they’re dead but alive, which still seems impossible. Penny spots a path in the woods, and we follow it until we hit a board with a map a few yards in.

  We’re on a trail called The Long Path. It runs along the top of the Palisades all the way to Rockland County. No one says anything. Every decision we make seems monumental, and I don’t want to be the one to steer us wrong. At the thought of the distance ahead of us, of all the things that could go wrong, the energy drains out of me, like my feet have two rubber stoppers that have been left open. The lights flash through the trees. They turn everyone’s faces red, blue, white, red, blue, white. It makes me dizzy.

  “We have to get away from the entrance. Why don’t we stay on the trail?” James suggests. He points to the map. “Here, here and here are trails that head down to the river. Let’s just walk.”

  It’s hard to believe we’re surrounded by city as we trudge through the woods. Another mile and I want nothing more than to curl up and sleep. Ana stumbles every third step, and the only thing that keeps her upright is Peter holding her elbow.

  The path opens up to an overlook with a view of the George Washington Bridge and Manhattan. It’s darker than usual. I can make out the spire shapes of the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings, but the buildings themselves are dark.

  “Looks like brownouts, maybe,” Nelly says.

  “Or power plants shutting down,” adds James.

  Penny shudders. “I’m so glad we’re not there.” Then she shudders again. Maybe she’s thinking of Maria, or maybe it’s because the breeze off the river is cold, especially now that the adrenaline is long gone.

  “Let’s stop here,” Ana pleads. Her hair’s come out of its ponytail and sticks to her face.

  I drop my pack to the ground and rub the knots in my shoulder. This tiny park’s not a bad place to stop. The lampposts will allow us to see if anything’s coming, and we can stay out of sight, if we sleep just inside the trees. Everyone sets down their packs in exhaustion and agreement. There are only four sleeping bags; Peter and I were supposed to share one. Before things can get awkward, I unfasten mine and roll it to Peter.

  “Here, I’ll share with Nelly.”

  Peter thanks me, but lurking beneath his voice is an emotion that’s definitely not pleasure.

  Nelly points a finger at me. “No wiggling, woman. And no funny business.”

  The world could be ending, the world may be doing just that, and Nelly wouldn’t be able to pass up the opportunity to make a joke. It may be the number one reason I love him.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself,” I say, thankful he’s saved the moment. “But I’ll have to try, seeing as how we have first watch.” He groans and yawns. “Only forty-five minutes. We all need some sleep.”

  Penny and James agree to share next watch. Nelly and I lean against a tree with an emergency blanket under us and the sleeping bag unzipped over top. I snuggle against him. Nelly always smells like the outdoors, like clothes that have dried in the sunshine. Maybe it soaked into him when he was a kid. We stare into the dark long enough for my heart to resume its regular rate.

  “You know how we talked about what we would do if the world ended?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  It’s fun to discuss over a beer in a warm bar, to imagine that it would be an adventure. And now here we are. I’m exhausted. I’m scared out of my mind. I already feel filthy and despairing.

  “I’m glad we were all together. I knew working with you would pay off one day, even if you never let me get anything done.” He pinches me, and I can make out his smile in the pre-dawn light before his face turns grim. “I feel like we’ve been thrust into a horror movie midway, you know? But we didn’t do so badly.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not as much fun as it’s cracked up to be. But at least we’re out of there.”

  I watch Manhattan’s dark skyline and think about all of those people waiting for help. People who don’t deserve what they’re going to get. People, like Maria, who we love.

  The time goes fast. James and Penny practically leap out of their sleeping bag with fright when I touch them. We zip ourselves into their warm nest, and I fall asleep wrapped in Nelly’s arms.

  25

  I awaken to the sound of thunder in the distance, but my face is warm with sunshine. I crack an eye. It’s tired and grainy and begs me to let it rest, but I force it open and see blue sky overhead. I sit up quickly, having forgotten that I’m in a sleeping bag with another human being, and get thrown back down. Nelly grunts but doesn’t wake as I ease myself out. Ana and Peter are fast asleep against the tree. Not that I can really blame them, it’s been a rough night.

  Plumes of smoke rise into the air over Manhattan. I move to the edge of the lookout in awe. It looks like a war zone. A louder roll of what I now know isn’t thunder booms. Another plume joins the others to linger like smog over the city. There are exclamations as everyone wakes and joins me. Ana and Peter share a guilty look that they’ve literally fallen asleep on the job.

  James leans on the rock wall that lines the cliff and peers into the distance. “The bridges. They’re really doing it, aren’t they?”

  As if in answer to his question, a helicopter zooms from the New Jersey side to the middle of the George Washington Bridge, then swoops away and hovers at a distance. The middle of the bridge becomes a blur from the explosion. It thuds in my chest and up through my feet.

  We all cry out. Nine million people are about to find out
they’ve been left to the wolves. Terror seizes my insides, along with a breathless relief. We’re safe. Safer than them, at least. The suspension cables of the bridge are still there when the smoke clears. They’ve only blown up the roadway. The helicopter retreats back into Jersey.

  “Maybe they’re thinking they might need to fix the bridge at some point,” Nelly says icily. “Maybe some poor bastards will be able to walk across what’s left.”

  I know what he’s feeling. That could be us in there. That is us in there, people just like us. Peter’s mouth hangs open. He doesn’t think things like this can happen. I touch his hand. I’m so used to touching him that it doesn’t feel strange until he moves his hand away. I want to say it’ll be okay, but I don’t think it will be. I think that’s what’s shocking him most of all.

  James roots around in his pack for his iPad. He hasn’t been able to get onto his internet all night, and our phones are useless. I try to send Eric a psychic message. We’re okay. I’m heading to the house. He must be going crazy.

  “Got it!” James yells. He sits on one of the benches as we huddle around him. On a news site the headline reads:

  Major U.S. Cities Being Abandoned

  President, from Undisclosed Location, Calls for Residents to Prepare for Long Siege

  Medical Experts Report Infected May Already Be Dead

  James reads aloud, “The president announced today that most major cities in the United States were ‘unable to be cleared of infection.’ Every major city in the country reports numbers of sick that are overwhelming and untreatable. Hospitals stand empty. The sick now wander the streets spreading Bornavirus LX.

  “The virus, spread through bodily fluids, has torn through the world. All contact with China and much of Europe was lost yesterday. Both were hit with Bornavirus LX only days before the United States.

  “Police departments and National Guard units are stretched thin. Many have abandoned their posts to care for their own families, leaving no one to answer calls for help.