Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  Will watches the plume of snow the wind carries from the top of Mount Washington, the highest peak in the Northeast. He wears the look people get when they’re thinking of the ones they’ve lost: the thousand-yard stare. “Wish I had better news about your family, A.”

  Adrian claps his back in turn. “I know.”

  “We’ve got a good thing going,” Will says. He turns to John. “John, I wanted to show you something the guys have been working on. We’ll see you all at lunch.”

  A flat carpet of snow covers the tall grass that was tilled last fall to prepare for this summer’s crops. Whitefield will produce enough food to feed themselves this year. And it was all under Adrian’s tutelage. The farmers in the area had turned or left by the time the 157th arrived.

  “You’re amazing,” I say to Adrian. He brushes off my praise with a wave of his hand. “And I should learn how to take compliments? You heard what Will said—they wouldn’t have made it without you. You deserve anything in the whole wide world. That’s how amazing you are.”

  “Anything?” he asks.

  I spread my arms expansively. “Anything!”

  “Well, how about a girlfriend who picks her underwear up off the floor?”

  Nelly snorts. He’s lived in a room with me and knows the score. I get him with a swift kick to the ankle.

  “They’re clean,” I say, because there’s no way I can promise something so unlikely. I only make promises I can keep. “And they’re usually on a chair.” Adrian lets out a humph. “How about the purple ones?”

  He gooses me. “The purple ones can stay out unless Bits is there.”

  “All right,” Nelly says, “that’s my cue to leave. This is not something I need to hear.”

  “Have fun with Adam. Oh, I mean the cows,” I yell after him. He flips me the bird without looking back. I grin at Adrian and pull my coat tighter. The sun may be out, but the breeze is cool. I tilt my head toward the mess hall. “So, lunch?”

  I take a couple of steps without waiting for an answer, but Adrian lays a hand on my arm and spins me around. He’s so still and serious that I feel a pang of worry. He rubs a hand on the leg of his jeans and clears his throat. “How about a fiancé who picks her underwear up off the floor?”

  I stare, unsure if I heard correctly. He fumbles to get his hand into his jeans pocket and watches me closely. His eyes are gray-green today, but they’re as warm as ever.

  “What?” I try to say more, but nothing comes out. It may be silly to feel nervous after all these years, but my smile trembles and I can barely hear over the wind rushing in my ears.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the engagement ring I returned three years ago. I’ve never asked what he did with it. It didn’t matter; I’ve only ever wanted him.

  “Will you marry me?” It comes out in one breath. He’s as nervous as I am. My mouth opens, but he holds up a finger. “If I promise I’ll never ask you to pick your underwear up off the floor or any other completely inappropriate surface.”

  I laugh so loud it echoes off the buildings and all my nervousness dissipates. Adrian rubs the dark stubble on his jaw and rocks on his feet. He’s waiting for an answer, but I can’t imagine he doesn’t already know what it is.

  “Yes,” I say. “Of course.” I laugh again, this time from the light feeling that’s flooded my chest and the relieved look on his face.

  “Good.” He closes the space between us. “I love you until the end of the world.”

  “And after,” I say.

  He takes my left hand and twists off the ring I wear—the silver band with a tiny star that he gave me in college. It’s one of the only things I have left from my old life, besides people. He moves it to my right hand and slides the little antique diamond on my bare finger. It still fits, just like us. When he’s done, we stand inches apart, smiling like self-conscious teenagers. This may be the second time we’ve done this engagement thing, but we’re not much more sophisticated at it this go-round.

  “You sure?” he asks, still holding my left hand.

  “Yes! What’d you think?”

  He shrugs, his smile embarrassed and sweet, like a little boy. I pull him in for the kind of kiss I don’t usually dole out in public. It’s just getting good when three passing soldiers catcall, and we break apart.

  I lean my head against his chest and sigh. “You know, this whole communal living thing can really cramp one’s style.”

  “Yes, yes it can,” Adrian says. He tickles the small of my back with the hand that managed to creep under my coat. “Later?”

  “Maybe,” I tease, and pull back to look at him. “Why were you walking around with a ring?”

  “I’ve had it for a week. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

  I try not to show my amusement that the right moment was in the middle of the tarmac at Whitefield while talking about underwear, but it’s impossible.

  “I know,” he says. “Underwear. Can I pick a moment or what?”

  “It was perfect.”

  “Bits wouldn’t have been able to hold it in much longer, anyway. I cleared it with her first.”

  Adrian would think of asking Bits, who’s probably planned the wedding down to the hideous white dress by now. That he would do such a thing makes me love him more than ever.

  “I can’t believe she kept it,” I say. “Bits is horrible with secrets.”

  Adrian mumbles something at the ground. I could swear it has the word kitten in it. I pull his arm. “What? Did you just say something about a kitten?”

  Bits is desperate for a kitten. She plays with the cats in the barn all the time, but figuring out what to use for kitty litter—or, even worse, how to housebreak a cat—is not at the top of my to-do list.

  “I promised her one.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me sheepishly. “I said it could live in the house with us.”

  “No, you didn’t! You’re such a sucker!” I crack up. I knew one of us would break if she asked long enough. I’m just glad it wasn’t me.

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “Nope, that’s why I love you. You’re my sucker, lollipop.” I plant another kiss on his lips and then wag my finger. “But you are totally in charge of potty training and litter recon.”

  Adrian pulls my arm through his. “I know, I know. Now, can I offer my fiancé some lunch?”

  “Only if you don’t call me your fiancé. It sounds so pretentious. How about my intended?”

  “Right,” he says, “because that’s not pretentious at all.”

  9

  Lunch isn’t fancy, but the bread is warm and the soup is hot. Adam sits across from me, thin, boyish face aglow. He’s on the shy side, but he manages to hold his own with Nelly. “So when do you think you’ll get married?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Whenever we don’t have to eat soup for the thousandth time?” I look to Adrian, who slurps up the last of his soup and gives an agreeable shrug.

  “Your excitement is contagious,” Nelly says. “Does one of you need a Green Card or something? Why bother?”

  Adrian and I laugh. Years ago, we’d planned on a simple service at my parents’ cabin. We’d already pledged ourselves to each other, but we wanted to do it before the people we loved. It would almost seem pointless—since so many of those people are gone, since we’re already married in every way that counts and since the end of the world doesn’t exactly lend itself to wedding ceremonies—but it doesn’t feel pointless.

  “Maybe it’s important to keep doing the things that used to be important,” Adrian says quietly. He’s put into words what I couldn’t, and I lean my head on his shoulder. Then he holds his thumb and index fingers a centimeter apart and shrugs. “Plus, I’m almost positive I love her.”

  “No one else would take her,” Nelly says. “So there’s that, too.”

  “Exactly. I didn’t want her to feel bad.”

  I roll my eyes and turn to Adam. “Are you sure you want to become a part
of this dynamic? You’ll never be safe.”

  “Well,” Adam says, and tugs on the front of his short, brown hair, “I asked around, and no one else will date Nel. I thought I was doing him a favor.”

  I lean across the table for Adam’s hand. “I’m positive I love you. Let’s you and I get married and leave these two to their own devices.”

  “I do,” Adam says with a grin.

  “Sorry, sweets, I’m already taken,” I say to Adrian. I turn to John, whose blue eyes have been twinkling ever since he received our news. “John, will you perform the ceremony? It would mean a lot to us.”

  John lumbers up from his chair, and his bear hug feels the same as the ones my dad used to give. John’s been like a dad to me ever since my parents died. Even more so, now that he’s lost contact with his own kids.

  “It would be an honor,” John says. “Your mom and dad would be so happy for you. Both of you.”

  “Let’s do it in July,” Adrian says. “There’s no soup in July.”

  “Okay. But, why?”

  “He wants to snap you up before you get away,” John says.

  “Well, I should marry you while I’m still twenty-nine,” I say. “I’ve got to snag you while I’m young and fresh.”

  My birthday is in August, but I’m not dreading thirty. I want to make it to eighty, at least, and the chances of that have gotten a lot slimmer in the past year. I’m just hoping it’s an improvement on last year’s birthday, which ended with us surrounded by a pod of Lexers and my parents’ cabin burning down.

  “Fine, but once I see a wrinkle, you’re out,” Adrian says. He runs a finger along his throat in warning.

  I punch him and say, “Thank you, John.”

  John’s not the most demonstrative person, but he sniffs and the skin around his eyes has gone pink. “Like I said, it’s my pleasure.”

  I spot Zeke on the other side of the room and excuse myself to ask him a question. Zeke’s beefy frame sits in front of a huge bowl of soup and half a loaf of bread. His gray-streaked hair is in a ponytail, but when he leans close to the bowl his beard comes away dripping.

  I rest my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Zeke.”

  “Cassie!” he says, and gives me a blindingly white grin. He may look like an outlaw with his long hair and tattoos, but we learned he’s a dentist when we met him last summer on his way from Kentucky to Whitefield. He earned the name Z.K. on that trip, for Zombie Killer, and now everyone calls him Zeke instead of his given name, Martin. “What brings you to our fine establishment?”

  “I missed your handsome face.”

  He leans back in his chair with a bellow. Nothing about his slightly squashed features is remarkable, but the kindheartedness that shines through makes him attractive. I’d love to find him a nice biker lady. “If only that were true. How’s Bits?”

  “She’s great. I wanted to ask when you were coming over to Kingdom Come. She’s due for a cleaning—” I lose my train of thought when I spot a familiar figure filling his bowl at the soup pot. He turns and sets his bowl down at an empty table, and I let out a gasp. I leave Zeke staring and run through the tables. “Hank?”

  Hank’s eyes are still huge behind his glasses, and he’s as skinny as ever, but he’s sprouted tiny dreadlocks and a couple of inches in the past year. He blinks like I might disappear. “Cassie!”

  I know ten year-old boys don’t like hugs, but I wrap my arms around him anyway. “How long have you been here? Where’s—”

  “Cassie?” Henry’s voice comes from behind.

  Henry always had the slightly weary look of a man used to hard work, but the past year has aged him even more. The lines around his eyes have deepened and the look in his eyes is more sad than tired. But his face is bright when I pull Hank his way for a group hug.

  “When did you get here?” I ask. “I’m at Kingdom Come, but we were here three weeks ago.”

  “We snowshoed in a few days ago. Decided to do it before traveling would be riskier.” Henry shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I thought about you guys all the time. Are Corrie and Dottie—” I stop at Henry and Hank’s identical expressions of grief. “No. No, I’m so sorry.”

  “Come sit,” Henry says.

  I wipe my face with a cloth napkin as the tears roll. He leads me to the chair next to his soup bowl. I’m crying for Corrie and Dottie, for Eric, for Maria, for Adrian’s mom and sister. Once you let the tears out, they have a way of taking over.

  “It was late last summer,” Henry says. “We got to the camp and found some other people there. Since we were waiting on family, we decided to stay. They were a nice group, but there wasn’t enough food. By the time we decided to make our way to you, the pods were everywhere and there was no more gas. We started out on foot—we thought we’d walk until we found a car, but we ran into a group of them. Corrine and Dottie...”

  Dottie was quiet and strong, and Corrine so sensitive in spite of all her tween bluster. Corrine had looked just like her mother, petite with dark skin and striking light eyes, and the vision of what they must look like now rises in my mind. I shove it back down and hope that Henry and Hank don’t have that firsthand knowledge.

  I can tell he doesn’t want to continue, so I fill the empty space. “We had to leave the house in August. A pod came there, too.”

  Henry nods. “Hank and I found an old hunting cabin and enough food in the houses close by. Then, when it got cold enough to freeze them, we’d snowshoe until we found a new place to stay. We’d use up all the food and move on again. We thought Whitefield would be easier to get to, since we could follow the highway most of the way.”

  Henry smiles at Hank. I don’t know where my brother is, but the rest of my family—my adopted family—has made it through unscathed. I know how lucky we are. I can’t imagine losing Bits the way Henry lost Corrine. The thought is so bleak I can’t dwell on it for more than a moment or I’ll start to cry again.

  “I’m so sorry. And I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you. Especially you, Hank. I’ve got a little girl now. Her name’s Beth, but we call her Bits. She’s eight, but she’s crazy smart and loves to read, just like you. I bet you guys would get along great.”

  “Does she like graphic novels or comics?” Hank asks. His eyes light up at my nod. “I’ve got some really cool ones. There’s one with this guy, well, he’s not really a guy, he’s like a...”

  He goes on and on, but Henry and I only half listen. Henry rests his work-roughened hand on mine. I squeeze it, overcome by a rush of happiness. We may have only spent a few days together last spring, but I feel like I’ve reclaimed another piece of my family.

  10

  I tried to convince Henry and Hank to move to Kingdom Come, but Henry is an electrician, something that’s sorely needed in Whitefield. Whenever they have a problem they call Adrian or James to talk them through. Henry doesn’t want to leave them in the lurch, but I made him promise to consider the idea. Adrian was disappointed too, because once they started talking about electricity and solar power you’d have thought they’d known each other forever.

  That was a week ago. And yesterday Mother Nature decided to dump two feet of snow on us in April. I’m in no hurry to start the summer, so I don’t mind. Summer might mean fresh food and warmth, but it also means zombies.

  Ana looks up when I stamp my feet off in the greenhouse at the north end of the farm. “Cass, you have to see my tomato sprouts. They’re super cute!”

  “Ana, you are an enigma wrapped in a mystery. How can someone who has no mouth filter and kills with more glee than I thought humanly possible also coo over seedlings?”

  “Because they’re my babies. And mamas love their babies.” She wrinkles her nose. “What do you mean I have no mouth filter?”

  “You say whatever comes into your head,” I say, and admire her seedlings. They’re impressive; even plants do her bidding.

  She shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

  “
Normal people don’t do that. Their brain relays the message to another part of their brain, which then decides if it’s something that should be said out loud. Your brain opens the gate and lets the horses run.”

  Ana tucks her hair behind her ear and laughs. “Are you saying I’m a bitch, Cass?”

  “You’re a bitch with a heart of gold, Ana. I love you, horses and all. And, by the way, those seedlings are super cute.” She’s not really a bitch. Just blunt. Like a two by four.

  “I love that!” she says. “Bitch with a heart of gold. It could be my slogan.”

  “We’ll get some business cards printed up.”

  I water the hundreds of seedlings and check the fire in the stove. This is my favorite place to work. It’s quiet and warm and smells like moist earth and tomato leaves. The peas are growing like crazy. They need to get out there soon.

  “Why aren’t you complaining about the snow?” Ana asks.

  “Because it keeps things frozen. Things I’d rather not have thaw out.”

  “True. But I wouldn’t mind a little patrolling.”

  I point a stake at her. “I am under orders to keep you reined in this summer. You are not allowed to do anything stupid.”

  “Peter.” Ana sighs. “He wants me in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.”

  “Ana, no one, anywhere on Earth, wants you in a kitchen. He just wants you alive. Remember your quarry idea?”

  The old quarry sits a half mile south of us, tucked in among the farmland that’s quickly becoming forest. You can see it from the top of the mountain we use to watch for pods of Lexers moving north. The quarry’s been dormant for decades, and the three immense holes have filled with water. It would be a great place to swim, if it didn’t have Lexer corpses floating in it.