Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  “I’m coming,” Nat announced and walked out of hiding. She’d changed into a bathing suit with a sundress over top. “I want to go for a swim with a bar of soap.”

  “All right,” Chuck said. “I have some supplies for the trucks, so I’ll take the rowboat. Pete, you want to go in the canoe with Natalie, so she doesn’t paddle in circles?”

  Natalie stuck out her tongue at her dad and giggled. Now that she was there, she seemed relaxed; they all did. He could hear Rich out in the yard, humming under his breath and talking to a dog Peter had glimpsed when they’d approached the cabin.

  The trees lessened the heat; maybe the water did too. What was a beastly hot day in Bennington was warm and breezy on the island. Peter shoved his button-down in his bag as they left for the boats. He’d wear his jacket on the road, for protection, but there was no reason to get all sweaty in the boat.

  Rich rounded the corner of the house. “You leaving?”

  “Yeah,” Peter said, and held out his hand. “Thanks for all your help. You don’t know how grateful I am.”

  Rich shook his hand with a nod and disappeared to the back.

  “Uncle Rich is a man of few words,” Natalie said. She picked her way down the trail in her flip-flops. “Can you not see why I’m starting to go crazy? Can’t you stay for a few days?”

  “Peter wants to get to his little girl,” Chuck said. He pulled a life vest off a tree branch by the boats and held it out to Nat. “Put this on.”

  “I didn’t wear one on the way out, Dad. I’ve been able to swim since I was, like, five.”

  “That’s because it was out here. If it’d been on shore, you would’ve worn it. What’s the first rule?”

  Nat didn’t answer, so Peter did. “Safety. It’s a good one.”

  “Traitor!” Natalie said, but she laughed and clicked the vest on.

  The trucks were a bit farther away than where they’d arrived. Peter dug his paddle into the water as they got close. Nat was paddling, but he hardly needed her. He’d be behind the wheel of a truck in less than fifteen minutes and would drive all night until he reached Kingdom Come.

  Natalie hopped out of the canoe before they reached the shore and then splashed in knee-deep water. This was another grassy clearing, with a similar dilapidated road that led into the woods. Parked on the grass were a pickup and a Mercedes G-Class.

  “Nice truck,” Peter said to Chuck, who’d pulled alongside him in the rowboat. “That yours from before?”

  Chuck laughed. “Oh, sure, a hundred grand was a drop in the bucket. Parked it next to my Rolls. You know cars?”

  “Not much. But I had an S600.”

  “Nice,” Chuck said with a low whistle. “You must’ve been doing okay.”

  “I guess,” Peter said. Except he hadn’t been. He didn’t like this new world, but he was possibly the only person who felt that they were better off than before.

  “It was at a big house outside Manchester. Only way I’d ever own a—”

  A shrill scream echoed. Nat had slipped out of the water and behind the trucks, where her father had warned her not to go without his ‘all clear.’ Her palms hit the truck’s hood, and Peter caught a glimpse of her terrified face before she slid off. Chuck was quick, but Peter was quicker. He leapt across the grass, machete drawn.

  The Lexer had Nat by her vest. It pulled her steadily backward despite her bare feet that scrabbled on the ground. Peter knew he had one chance to get the Lexer off; its teeth were perilously close to her neck, and there was more movement in the woods.

  “Get down! Duck!” he ordered Nat, who reacted immediately.

  He swung the machete into its mouth, bisecting the head, the top of which flew into the trees. The next few headed for where Natalie lay under the corpse of the first Lexer, its hands still tangled in her straps. He drove the machete into an eye, flipped the blade to his left hand and spun to shoot the two behind him at point blank range. It was better to avoid using a gun and calling everything within a few miles your way, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Thank God for Ana and her insanity. All that practice was paying off.

  Chuck had taken out the last two with his pistol, and now he was bent over Nat, disentangling her from beneath the Lexer. He didn’t see the one who came out from behind the other truck. Peter fired a perfect kill shot, but the bullet didn’t stop the Lexer’s forward momentum enough to keep it from knocking Chuck off balance and into Peter’s ankle.

  Searing pain shot up his leg when Chuck’s bulk hit, even with his boot for support. Peter put an arm on the truck and waited for the initial pain to pass while Chuck lifted Nat to her feet. The back of her head was wet with brains, and her pixie face was bright pink from the struggle to catch her breath. Chuck undid the life vest and inspected every inch of her, then raised disbelieving eyes to where Peter stood.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. His face was almost as flushed as Nat’s. “They had her. Jesus.”

  Chuck opened the truck door and threw Natalie in. He slammed it and turned to face the woods, then fell against the truck. “I wouldn’t have made it in time.”

  “You would’ve,” Peter said.

  Whether or not that was true, Peter wasn’t sure, but Chuck needed to believe it. Chuck stared straight ahead. He wasn’t shaking, but he looked like a man reliving a nightmare. Peter knew; he’d been there.

  “I don’t know,” Chuck said. He looked Peter in the eye, not ashamed of the tears that filled his. “Thank you for saving my baby. You want that G-Class, it’s all yours.”

  Peter gave a small laugh but winced when he put weight on his foot. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the initial pain was getting a whole lot worse. His boot felt much too tight.

  “I nailed you in that ankle, didn’t I?” Chuck asked. “Let’s take a look.”

  Peter sat on a rock to unlace his boot and remove his sock. His ankle was already swollen and an angry pink.

  “God, I’m sorry,” Chuck said.

  Peter shook his head. It was his right foot, too. He’d drive with his left if he had to. “It’s all right. It’ll go down soon.”

  Chuck rubbed his beard and grimaced. “I don’t know. That looks bad. Did you feel or hear a crack?”

  “No, it just bent the wrong way.”

  “I guess that’s good. Rich could tell us more—he’s a nurse.”

  So, non-speaking, classical music-playing, flannel shirt-wearing Rich was a nurse. Peter smiled despite the pain and the sinking feeling that his ankle was about to throw an extra-large wrench into his plans. “Must have a hell of a bedside manner. Strong but silent?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Chuck guffawed and turned a fatherly look on him. “I think you should come back, at least for the night. It’d be better to leave in the morning anyway.”

  Peter’s chest tightened. He should have been saying goodbye and heading down the road right now. But, he reminded himself, he should have been dead on a dumpster right now, so another night was a lot better than what could have been. He pushed himself off the rock and gingerly placed the toes of his right foot on the ground. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  3

  Peter lay with his foot propped on the arm of the couch while Rich looked it over. Although his hands were gentle, it was enough to make Peter grit his teeth. It hurt almost as much as breaking his arm when he was nine.

  “No crunching feeling when I move it?” Rich asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s a fairly bad sprain. You should stay off it for a week, then minimal movement for another week or more, depending. I’ll get some cold water from the lake for you to soak in and then we’ll wrap it up.”

  “I wanted to leave in the morning.”

  Rich had been businesslike during his examination, but now he squatted near Peter’s propped-up head with a sigh and a gentle voice. “I know you do. But you won’t be doing yourself any favors. What if you have to get out of the truck? The roads north aren’t
all clear, even the small ones. I know, I’ve tried them. You can’t run with that ankle.”

  Peter watched the treetops through the window and bit his cheek hard. It was a good defensive maneuver for when you didn’t want to cry. And the first and last time he’d cried in years had been on the front porch of Cassie’s cabin.

  “If you do too much too soon on that ankle it could worsen and never heal right,” Rich continued. He gestured out the window. “This is not a situation where a man wants a permanently weak ankle or a limp, you know?”

  “Okay,” Peter said. He knew Rich was right. “I’m sorry I’m stuck here. I know you don’t have supplies to spare.”

  “We can always get more,” Rich said. He blinked a few times. “What we can’t get is another Natalie. I’ll go for that water.”

  He clapped Peter’s shoulder and went humming out the door. It sounded like Beethoven’s 7th.

  The next day was hot, which only intensified the heat in his ankle. Natalie walked out of her room and perched on the end of the couch. Her eyes were puffy, and she looked exhausted despite having slept through from yesterday evening.

  “I know I said thank you,” she said. “But thank you again, for saving me…” She looked down at her lap. “Sorry I screwed up your plans to leave. My dad would ground me, except I’m already stuck here.”

  She gave him a sheepish look from under her hair, and Peter laughed. “I’m glad I was there. That’s how fast it happens. That’s why your dad has that first rule, you know.”

  Nat sighed. “I know.”

  “Anyway, we’re even. You saved me and I saved you back. All right?”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Nat said with a grin. “But, I’m still your servant until you leave. Dad’s orders. Can I get you anything?”

  Peter didn’t want to make a sixteen year-old girl help him to the bathroom. It would be embarrassing for both of them. “I just need to do morning stuff, you know. Brush my teeth…”

  She moved to one of the side tables and came back with a stick that spread into a V at the top. “Cane for you. Dad said he was making one.”

  “Thanks.”

  Peter hobbled to the toilet. It stood alone in a tiny room the size of a closet. It didn’t smell; supposedly everything went into a tank outside somewhere and became compost. They’d had a flush toilet at Cassie’s, but he’d bet flush toilets were going to be a distant memory soon.

  He dug around in his daypack. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic bag at the bottom. He was pretty sure Cassie was responsible for that, considering that there was floss, too. Their daypacks held essential items, in case you had to leave your big pack behind. He had a couple of MREs, a flashlight, an emergency blanket and poncho, water, ammo, an extra knife and shirt, and some medical supplies. Only Cassie would think a toothbrush met the same qualifications as those things. He loaded up the toothbrush. By the time he spit and rinsed he felt cleaner all over. It was an illusion, of course, but maybe she was onto something.

  His ankle was on fire, so he made his way to the couch and sat with his foot outstretched on the coffee table. He wasn’t used to sitting, especially now. There was always something to do.

  Chuck came in with a plate and steaming mug. “Coffee and peanut butter crackers. Odd mix, I know, but we use things as they expire.”

  “Thanks.” He sipped the coffee. It was black, which was fine, and the crackers were pretty good.

  Chuck sat on the couch. “Did you see Natalie?”

  “Yeah. Was she under orders to apologize? If so, she did.” Peter finished chewing and swallowed the crackers with a swig of coffee. “Don’t go too hard on her.”

  “She didn’t listen,” Chuck said, his face hard. “I almost lost her.”

  “I think she learned her lesson. Has she ever had close contact with Lexers?”

  “That’s a funny name for them. Lexers?”

  “That’s what the Army was calling them. For the LX in Bornavirus LX.”

  “I guess we just call them zombies,” Chuck said. “That’s what they are. I don’t see the sense in another name.”

  “Maybe it’s kind of like calling lollipops something different, like suckers.”

  “Change it up a little?” Chuck asked with a smile. “So you don’t get bored?”

  Peter laughed. “Exactly.”

  “No, she never did. She’s shot at them from a distance, when all this started, but not since then. Maybe she should have, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk. She knows how to use a gun, has since she was little. I’ll make sure she has one at all times from here on out.”

  Peter finished the crackers and coffee. That was breakfast, and once Chuck left to do his work, Peter was going to be bored. “Is there anything you need done that I can do from here?”

  Chuck thought a moment and said he’d be back. Rich came in with the dog, who looked a bit like John’s dog, Laddie. Suddenly, those crackers weren’t sitting so well. It was Peter’s fault Laddie had been killed; he still felt horrible about that. No one held it against him anymore, but he’d never totally forgive himself.

  The dog rushed over, tail wagging like crazy. The second Peter made eye contact, it jumped on the couch and set its head in his lap. “Go ‘head and make yourself comfortable, Jack,” Rich said to the dog. “You want me to get him off?”

  Peter gave Jack a good scratch behind the ear. He’d never had a dog, but he’d always wanted one. “That’s okay, I like him.”

  “All right. I want to take a look at your ankle.”

  Rich took Peter’s foot in his lap and unwrapped the bandage while Nat hovered over him. When the bandage was off, she scrunched up her nose. “It looks like a zombie foot!”

  It did. It was swollen and purple-gray, just like a Lexer. “Looking better than it did, in terms of swelling,” Rich said. “That’s good. Keep it up. Nat will get you anything you need.”

  “I already told him I’m his indentured servant,” she said, and turned to Peter. “How about a board game?”

  “I think your dad’s getting me something to work on.”

  Natalie bowed. “Yes, master.”

  Rich looked up from his bandaging. “I can’t believe your daddy never spanked you. Maybe I should.” He swatted a hand and she ran away laughing. It looked like it was an old joke from the way they both smiled.

  “All right,” Rich said. “I’ll be outside. Make sure to take some more ibuprofen.”

  After two more days, Peter was sure he’d sharpened every knife within a fifteen-mile radius. His ankle was a little better, in that he could stand for longer periods of time, but he still couldn’t walk at anything resembling a normal pace. Rich told him to be patient, but it was impossible. Everyone was waiting for him at Kingdom Come, except they didn’t know they were waiting; they were likely mourning.

  Chuck had given him some other odd jobs, but there was only so much he could do from the couch—the same one he’d had Natalie help move under the windows. They’d moved the chairs too, so at night everyone could sit and talk or play a game.

  Natalie had just won Monopoly for the third night in a row when Chuck said, “Rich and I are thinking of going out tomorrow. We’d be gone for a night. Going for food. And I’m going to check on those potatoes, like you said, Peter.”

  “Will you get paint, Daddy?” Nat asked. “I’ll start on painting. And get some fabric for curtains and furniture paint, too. Like white or something. Oh, and a sewing machine.”

  She gave Peter a thumbs up; the last two days had been full of decorating discussions. She might have been his servant, but he was her captive audience, and he had a feeling she was quite happy with the arrangement.

  “I’ll see what we can do. You sure you’re okay here, Nat?”

  “Of course. Peter’ll keep me company.”

  Chuck shot Peter an amused look that might have been tinged with sympathy. “All right. Let’s get to bed, it’s late.”

  Peter brushed his teeth and lay o
n the couch wearing a pair of Chuck’s pajama pants. When Natalie’s door closed, Chuck sat on the edge of the coffee table with his hands clasped. “Listen, Pete, I have a favor to ask.” He waited for Peter’s nod and continued. “If we don’t come back, would you take Nat with you when you leave?”

  “You’ll come back, Chuck.”

  “You never know. Just in case. I want to know she’ll have someone looking out for her. I trust you would.”

  “Of course I would,” Peter said. He felt a rush of warmth that this man trusted him with his daughter. No one had ever even asked him to housesit. Of course, his wealthy friends would never have needed him to, but still. “You have my word.”

  Chuck nodded once. “All right, then. Thank you.” He walked into the bedroom he shared with Rich and closed the door softly.

  The next day it was just Nat, Peter and Jack. By noon they’d already gone swimming with a bar of soap, as Nat called it. The cold water felt great on his ankle, and the soap was great everywhere else. Natalie wrapped his foot up the way Rich had taught her, and they sat in the living room reading. Nat had a million books in her room, but Peter was reading one of the guys’ mysteries.

  Natalie held a dog-eared copy of Twilight and read it as if it were the first time, although she’d told him she almost knew them by heart.

  “So, what’s the big deal with those Twilight books?”

  Natalie lowered it and sighed. “It’s all just so romantic. And who wouldn’t want to live forever and be as super strong as a vampire?”

  “Well, it’d be better than being a zombie.”

  “It’s the closest I’m getting to romance anyway,” Nat said. She flopped back in her chair. “I’d even take a normal guy at this point.”

  “Wow, a normal guy? That’s really desperate.”

  “Shut up!” Nat giggled. Then she leaned forward. “So, you were with some girls when I saw you. That one, the one next to you who held your hand, is that your girlfriend?”

  “That’s my ex-girlfriend, Cassie,” Peter said.