Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  He’s surrounded by Lexers, and he’s telling me to relax. Nelly opens the rear doors and climbs in with Jamie, Shawn, Dan, Caleb and Marcus. Ana thrusts the key into the ignition and revs the motor. She’d barely driven before Bornavirus, and now she drives like she does everything else—maniacally. There are thumps and curses from the back when she does a donut and races down the driveway. She slams on the brakes beside Peter at the first gate, which results in several more thuds from the back.

  “What’s the plan?” he asks.

  Killing them through the fence is easy, but taking on fifty in a clearing is a good way to get killed. I speak into the radio. “Adrian? What do you want us to do? Should we come down and lead them away?”

  “They’ll just come back. We’re going to spike them and then shoot the ones we can’t reach. We’ve got plenty of ammo. Might draw some others, so we don’t want you guys out here. We’re fine.”

  It’s killing me how calm he is. Doesn’t he know this is when a person is allowed to freak the fuck out? I stare at the radio and grit my teeth.

  Nelly kneels in the opening that connects the back to the cab and rests a hand on my leg. “He’s fine, darlin’.”

  I take a breath and speak into the radio. “Okay. We’re up at the gate. Tell us when it’s safe.”

  “We will.”

  We sit in silence. The entrance that allows vehicle access to the farm is corrugated metal, with a viewing platform on either side. I climb one and stand in the early morning light, wishing I could see what’s happening a quarter of a mile down the road. But I can only stare at the trees while I imagine them dropping the long spikes into the top of the Lexers’ skulls from the cabin’s walkway. I jump at the first gunshot; now they must be going after the ones they can’t reach.

  Movies make you believe that head shots are easy. Point, pull the trigger and you’re good. Center mass is easy, but it’s a lot harder to get a head shot in a moving person than they would have you believe. Head shots can be tricky on paper targets, but add in the movement, fear and lack of time to properly sight, and they become extremely difficult. Adrian’s good at this, though, and he has time on his side. I know he’s safe, but it’s out of my control, and I hate that feeling.

  Nelly climbs up next to me. His hair is crazy and his clothes are askew, but his eyes are sharp.

  “Who’s with him?” I ask “I can’t remember.”

  “John,” Nelly says.

  It doesn’t make me any happier that two of my most favorite people in the world are down there, but my heart slows; John’s the best marksman I’ve ever seen. Now that I know it’s him, I can tell by the reports that carry our way. Slow and steady. Boom. Boom. Boom. Nelly puts his arm around my shoulder when I shiver.

  “They’re fine,” he says. “Don’t worry. Talk to me about something.”

  “Okay. How’s Adam?”

  He shakes his head and snorts.

  “It was your idea, Nelly!” I say. “The least you can do is talk to me about it.”

  “Okay. He’s fine. I like him.”

  I keep my eyes on the road. “Like like?”

  There’s no response. We have to be close to twenty shots now, but those head shots are hard. “Nelly!”

  “Yes, Cass. Like like.”

  “So, what base—”

  “Cass?” Adrian’s voice comes through the radio.

  “I’m here.”

  “They’re all down. You guys can come help with clean up. But be careful, there might be others in the woods.”

  I close my eyes. “Okay, we’ll be there in a minute.”

  Bodies cover the grass around the lookout. Adrian and John lean on the walkway railing, looking very pleased with themselves. I climb the ladder they lower, and when I get to the top Adrian pulls me to him. I grip the back of his coat and exhale.

  “I was fine, sweetie,” he says.

  “I was still scared. What if it’d been me here?”

  “I would’ve been terrified.”

  I let go of Adrian and hug John. “Good job, you guys.”

  “It was fun,” John says, smiling under his beard. “I’ve missed the range.”

  “Awesome. Well, let’s not make a habit of it.” I look around the clearing. The others have begun to drag the bodies into a pile, and the trailer’s on its way down to move the bodies to the field we use for that purpose. “I don’t think we should have anyone down here anymore. It’s not worth it. Any people who show up can come to the first gate.”

  “I think you’re right,” John says, and starts down the ladder. “I’ll help with disposal.”

  “We should go clean up, too,” I say to Adrian.

  “Okay,” he says. He pecks my lips, and a familiar smell carries over the aroma of rotten brain cavities that permeates the air.

  I open my mouth in shock and put out my hand, palm up. “Give me one.”

  He puts on a puzzled expression. “Give you one of what?”

  “I know you have Twizzlers! I can smell them.” We have a bit of a candy habit, and there’s not much of it left around here.

  “I found them in the bottom of the food locker,” he whispers. “Don’t worry, I saved you one.”

  “One? One lousy Twizzler? That’s worse than none! And after I raced down here to save your life.”

  Adrian winks. “So little faith in me. I saved most of them for you and Bits. I’ll give them to you later.”

  The guys toss the bodies into the trailer while Ana, Jamie and I watch the woods. This is one time when I take full advantage of being female—if I don’t have to lift a heavy, stinking body, I’m not going to complain. A branch snaps, and I spot movement in the trees. Ana’s head whips my way when I make the short whistle we use to call each other. There’s another flash of something pale, coming closer now that they’ve locked on us. There are five of them, so I hold up five fingers right before they step into the clearing. Some Lexers seem to move at the same speed as last summer, while others seem to be dragging their feet even more than they did. Thankfully, this group is the latter.

  My stomach churns with the usual mixture of fear and disgust. I’m not like Ana—I always want to run away, but I’ve trained myself to stand and wait when it makes sense to do so. Still, it’s difficult to fight against your body’s survival instincts. I tell myself that there will be five fewer Lexers in a minute. That every one counts. The Lexer I kill might have been the one who would’ve bitten Bits, or Adrian, or anyone else on the farm. We’re fairly safe there, but we have to leave—to get wood, to farm, to find supplies—and five fewer might be the difference between making it home or coming to the fence as one of them.

  Ana and I situate ourselves next to each other, cleavers in hand, so they’ll come at us together. We won’t use guns unless it’s unavoidable. More noise makes more Lexers, and it can become a never-ending cycle. When they’re close enough, we split apart and move around to either side. It takes the Lexers a moment to work out what’s happened, and by then we’ve finished off one each. Cleaver in, cleaver out.

  Two move toward me, one to Ana. I put the cleaver edge under the next one’s chin and shove. What would have taken all my strength last year is like a gentle push in comparison, due to all the practice I’ve had. It kills her and pushes her backward into her one remaining friend, who’s knocked to the ground. I move forward, but Adrian rams his machete through its head before I get there. He leaves it there, hilt up, and raises a hand in the air.

  “You couldn’t have moved back and let us all take them?” he asks through a clenched jaw.

  “We were here.” I knew we had them, no matter how shaky my hands were. “They were extra slow, did you notice?”

  “No, I didn’t notice, because I was watching you do something completely idiotic.”

  He stares past me into the trees, eyes flinty. I glance around to gauge everyone’s reaction, but no one else looks particularly upset. They do look interested, though.

  “Can we talk about thi
s later?” I ask in a low voice.

  “Fine,” he says, but he still won’t look at me.

  Ana gives me a sympathetic look when Adrian stalks off. She gets this all the time, and not only from Peter, but I never do. I stare down at the bodies in confusion, and then I get angry.

  15

  After we’ve taken care of the Lexers and cleaned up, Adrian and I head to our room to change. He hasn’t said a word to me since the clearing. I stop in the bathroom first, and by the time I’ve made it to our room I’m ready for a fight. I walk in and hang my jacket on a hook.

  “Wow, you’re actually hanging up your coat?” he asks from where he sits on the bed.

  I spin around, fists clenched. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem is that you’re so worried about everyone’s safety, but when you have seven other people to help, you decide to take on Lexers by yourself.”

  “I wasn’t by myself! Ana was there, and—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know all about you and Ana, the two-girl zombie team.”

  I take a breath at his comment, which is completely unfair. He knows how I feel about all of this, how I’m nothing like Ana. “That is not what I was going to say. I was going to say that Ana was there, and I knew you all had our backs. All I had to do was move back, run, anything like that. They were slow.”

  He glares at me from the edge of the bed. He’s not giving an inch. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s not like I haven’t done this before, and with his blessing, not that I need it. I want to scream, but I decide to go with common sense.

  “Do I ever do anything dumb, really put myself in danger?” I ask. “Even when Ana does?”

  He shakes his head grudgingly, but he still doesn’t say anything.

  “I have a freaking caution sign on my forehead!” I yell. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Because I fucking love you!” he yells back. “You’re not the only person who worries, you know!”

  His eyes redden before he looks at his feet. I think of his mom and sister. He insists he’s fine whenever I’ve tried to bring them up, but there’s no way that’s true. All the fight leaves me. I sit beside him, lace my fingers through his and squeeze two times.

  He squeezes back and rests his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I knew I was safe up there, but you weren’t safe. You didn’t seem to care that they were coming right at you.”

  “You know I cared that zombies were coming to eat me. I would’ve run if I’d thought we couldn’t kill them. I would’ve left Ana in the dust.” He sniffs at my joke. “You were the same way on the radio. I wanted to kick you because it seemed like you weren’t taking it seriously.”

  “I was, I swear,” he says. “I just wasn’t freaking out.”

  “Exactly. I don’t do anything stupid because I always want to come back to you and Bits. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

  “I know.”

  “Plus, you don’t need to worry, not with my expertise in karate.” I shoot out my hand in a faux karate chop, which accidentally knocks half of my stack of books on the nightstand to the floor.

  “That’s not helping your case,” he says with a reluctant smile, and his shoulders come down a notch. “I really am sorry, sweetie. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I just love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” I push him with my shoulder. “Even though you’re a jerk.”

  He pulls a little paper bag out of his coat pocket and waves it in the air. “Would a jerk have saved you the last Twizzlers in the world?”

  16

  “Trouble in Paradise?” Nelly asks, when I sit at the lunch table.

  “Oh, shut up,” I say. “He got worried and didn’t handle it very well. So you can feed that to the rumor mill before it has us breaking up and moving to opposite sides of the farm.”

  Dan and Liz, another of our patrollers, laugh.

  “I didn’t think you guys ever fought,” Dan says.

  “Of course we do,” I say. “How can you live with another human being and not get annoyed at them at least some of the time?”

  Dan points a finger at me. “That’s why I don’t settle down. I always end up annoyed out of my mind.”

  “Want to hear my theory?” I ask.

  Nelly groans. “Here we go—Cassie’s Theory of Relationships.”

  “It’s true!” I turn to Dan and Liz. “Everyone is going to annoy you somewhat. The trick is to find the person who only annoys you a little, and where what you love about them outweighs what you don’t love. They’ll never be perfect, but they’ll be perfect for you. The problem is that people think it has to be perfect all the time, and that’s not possible.”

  “That’s actually a good theory,” Liz says to Nelly, who shrugs.

  “So, anyway, Nels,” I say. “We never got to finish our conversation about Adam. I mean, you admitted you like like him, but you never told me—”

  “Right now what I don’t love about you is outweighing what I do love about you,” Nelly says.

  “You love me so much that the good could never be outweighed by the bad. You can tell me later. In private,” I whisper loudly, from behind my cupped hand.

  “I hate you,” Nelly says. I blow him a kiss.

  “So, are we really closing the cabin?” Liz asks.

  “It doesn’t make sense to have anyone down there if they’re going to have to be rescued,” Dan says. “Or waste ammo. It’s better to wait for the Lexers to come to the fence.”

  Liz nods. She’s in her early thirties, thin and tall, with short dark hair and muscled arms. I was a little afraid of her at first, but she laughs easily and is nice once you get past her tough demeanor.

  Caleb and Marcus pull out chairs. They’re brothers, but they could be twins with their platinum ponytails, snub noses and matching mannerisms. Caleb is nineteen and Marcus is twenty-two. They made it here last summer, after traveling home from college to find their parents dead. Well, they weren’t actually dead. They had to finish them off.

  “You can’t see shit from the cabin, anyway,” Marcus says. “Hey, we need to go on patrol soon. We’re running out of stuff.”

  Patrol is when we leave the farm for supplies. It takes a lot of gas to run what little machinery we use, and all the little things—like toothbrushes, medicine and random equipment—are out there.

  “We need feminine hygiene products,” Liz says. “I don’t know about you, Cassie, but this menstrual cup thing sucks.”

  “I don’t mind it,” I say. “My mom used one. It’s better than the cloth pads.”

  Liz frowns at the mutters of the men. “What? It’s perfectly natural. The female body is a beautiful thing.” Caleb looks at her almost non-existent chest with a snort. “Yes, Caleb, I am a woman.” She grabs his head in the crook of her arm. Caleb writhes and twists but can’t escape.

  “A woman who can kick your ass, Cabe!” Marcus calls.

  “I’ve got to go. Art class.” I look at Nelly. “So, we’ll discuss later?”

  “Nope,” he says.

  17

  The cabin that was pressed into service as the school isn’t cordoned off into rooms the way the others are. It’s a modern pioneer schoolhouse, with desks, a wall painted chalkboard-black and projects hanging everywhere. Once winter set in, Penny insisted we start a school for the kids, and the weapons that once lived in here were moved to the solar barn.

  “That’s great, Jasmine,” Penny says to a little girl with a long brown braid who holds out a piece of paper.

  Jasmine is Bits’s best friend. She towers over Bits, but she’s shy and reserved where Bits is spunky. Her eyes light up at Penny’s compliment. “Thank you, Miss Diaz.”

  “You really don’t have to call me that, Jasmine.”

  “My mom says I should, at school.”

  Jasmine’s mom, Josephine, is very strict. I don’t blame her. She had three kids and a husband, and Jasmine’s all that’s left. She still jumps at t
he smallest noise and spends more time worrying than I do. Sometimes I catch her peering through the school windows until she catches sight of Jasmine and relaxes enough to head back to her shift.

  “Hello, Miss Diaz,” I say.

  Penny waves half-heartedly. She still feels sick, but we’ve been filling in on her other shifts, so she’s been getting more rest. I’ve upped my art classes from two to four days a week. I make them extra long and force her to lie down in the corner.

  The fifteen kids, who range in age from five to sixteen, sit at tables working on projects or read in the pillow-strewn library area. I catch Bits’s eye and wink. She returns it but stays put. Penny may be sweet, but she doesn’t let them take advantage. She has the teacher stare down pat.

  “Cassie’s here!” Jacob, a ten year-old, says.

  The kids mark their pages in books, return projects to their cubbies and come back to the tables with soft murmurs.

  “They’re like robots,” I say to Penny. “How do you do that?”

  “They listen to you, too.”

  “That’s only because I do fun stuff. If I taught math they’d be throwing spitballs at me. Now go lie down.”

  Penny flops on the pillows in the library. I think she’s asleep before she gets there.

  “We’re going to start working on self-portraits this week,” I say. “Who knows what a portrait is?”

  Ashley, who’s sixteen and arrived here last summer with her surrogate mom Nancy, says, “A picture of a person. And a self-portrait is a picture of yourself.”

  “Right.”

  “Cassie painted me a portrait,” Bits tells them. She pulls the locket out of her pocket. “It’s of my mom.”

  I pull out the art supplies while they pass it around. Some of the kids look at it longingly, and I’m sure they wish they had something similar. Chris, Doc’s twelve year-old son, had been on their annual father-son fishing trip to Vermont, and they never made it home to Mom. Even though Ashley has Nancy, she lost her parents. And the list goes on. I’d paint one for each of them, if only I knew their parents’ faces. Maybe if I teach them well enough they’ll be able to make their own before they really do forget.