Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  The first thing I do when we arrive is make a beeline for Penny. “So? Anything?”

  She rests her hands on the stomach I mistakenly thought couldn’t get any rounder. “Oh my God, would you stop asking me that twelve times a day? You know Glory said most first babies are late. Start asking in mid-December, when I’m actually due. Unless you’re trying to torture me?”

  “Fine, fine. I won’t ask again until the kid is hanging out of you.”

  “Nice outfit,” Nelly says from his easy chair. “What’d you bring to eat?”

  “I have no idea,” I say. “Peter made it. But it smells good.”

  “You’re lucky. Adam and I go to the brewery. Hey, Adam, why don’t you cook for me?”

  Adam turns from stacking plates. “Because you wouldn’t appreciate it. You’d shovel it down and forget it took hours to cook on the woodstove.”

  It does take hours to cook. Sometimes Peter starts it on a kitchen shift and brings it home. I do the same when he’s on guard, or I just grab whatever’s on offer. I’d rather paint than cook. Once I finished Holly’s portrait, I was deluged with requests from others. They hand me their creased, worn photos and I do my best to recreate them. I wasn’t a portrait painter before, but I like being the conduit between the old life and the new. I won’t take anything for the paintings unless someone has more art supplies, which I always accept.

  Nelly tells us that the wildlife is making its way back to the area. They’ve bagged moose, and between that and Terry flying a hunting crew to the caribou herds, we have a lot of meat hanging frozen in the storage area. That salmon will not have to pass my lips is the best news I’ve heard since the zombies froze.

  Liz perches on the arm of Zeke’s chair with a hand on his shoulder. She looks softer, more feminine somehow, until she pinches his ear at a comment I assume was teasing.

  “What’s with that?” I whisper to Penny.

  “I have no idea. They look happy, though.”

  I wink at Liz, who blushes—there’s a first time for everything—and get up to help Peter set out plates and utensils.

  “Check those two out,” I murmur.

  “I saw that coming a mile away,” he says. I put my hands on my hips and frown. “If I’d told you, you would’ve done something stupid like lock them in a closet.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have!” I push him. He twirls me so my back is to his chest and Jamie and Kyle are in my line of sight.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” he says into my ear. “But I will say that they’ve gotten close. I don’t think they’re always together because of Jasmine and Nicki.”

  “Ooh, really?”

  He nudges me forward. “Go do your thing.”

  It doesn’t surprise me that our people are pairing up, even with all the new faces in the mix. Our voyage here may have been on land, but it brought about a sea change, strengthening our bonds. I think for a minute and saunter over to Jamie. “I thought we could have Jasmine and Nicki one of these nights for a sleepover. We’ll make popcorn and play games. You can get them in the morning.”

  “That sounds like fun, but they don’t have to sleep there. It might be kind of cramped.”

  “We have a floor. You could have an uninterrupted night of sleep. A big bed all by your lonesome.” I spread my arms and let out a big sigh. Peter shakes his head like I’m overdoing it. I shrug. “Well, you guys let me know. Bits and Hank would love it.”

  I’m four feet away when Kyle says, “How about Saturday?” He glances at Jamie, who nods and concentrates on smoothing down her unwrinkled shirt.

  “Perfect.”

  Peter returns my surreptitious thumbs up. He’s getting into the spirit of things. I fill my plate next to Zeke and try not to smile. “So…what’s new, Zekey?”

  “Just say it, sugar.”

  “You and Liz are getting it on.”

  His entire body shakes. “Cut right to the chase, don’t be shy. She’s a great lady.”

  “I know. I’m happy for you. And very jealous. I thought we’d be together one day.”

  “You’ll always be my one and only Sugar.”

  I pretend to sniff. “You can call her Sugar, too. Although she might punch you if you do.”

  “You got that right.”

  “You look happy, Zekey. You deserve it. Maybe you’ll take that trip one day after all.”

  “You never know,” he says, eyes twinkling. “She can ride, that’s for sure. You deserve to be happy, too.”

  “I am.”

  I kiss his cheek before I make way for the mob of hungry people. That feeling of joy hasn’t left me yet. The people, the mountains, and the town’s quirky little houses have become home more quickly than I thought possible. Even Patricia has warmed up, or at least she doesn’t scowl when I call her Patty, which I do at every opportunity. I may complain that the weather is my worst nightmare come true, but I don’t even mind that so much.

  61

  Barnaby and Peter don’t stir when I get out of bed in the middle of the night. The Leonid meteor shower should be starting around now. I want to make sure it’s in full swing before I drag the kids out of bed, and I want one night to myself before that. After the kettle is on the stove, I walk into the dark. I don’t need to go far; the porch steps are swept of the last snowfall and there’s plenty of sky that can be viewed from the clearing in the center of the cabins.

  I sit on the bottom step and lean back on the porch. We watch the stars as much as possible, although the weather makes it less enjoyable. The only drawback of Alaska is that the summer nights are light. I might not see all the summer stars again if I live here the rest of my life.

  The first meteor shoots across one of Andromeda’s chained arms. I imagine it cutting her loose, the cord snapping the way my bootlace did. Maybe I never would have fought back if it hadn’t been for her story—for Dan—and I hope he knows how thankful I am that he was in my life.

  A few more meteors zing past. I wished for so much on the way here, but now I can’t think of a single wish except that I want things to stay the same. Maybe that’s as good a wish as any.

  The door opens, lantern light spilling onto the porch. “Everything okay?” Peter asks.

  “Fine. It’s the Leonid meteor shower, I think.”

  “Oh, okay. Don’t freeze to death.”

  “Want to watch with me?”

  “Sure. Let me get dressed.” He comes out a few minutes later bearing mugs of tea. “I thought you could use it. I didn’t think you’d be out here.”

  “Dan and I had a date to watch the Leonids. I wanted to keep it.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  He starts to rise, but I tug him down beside me. “No, stay. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I don’t. I wanted to give him this night because I’m probably the only person left who thinks of him. There are so many people…he gets lost in the shuffle.” I scoop snow off the ground and toss it into the dark. There are so many people who have no one to remember them. I don’t want one of them to be Dan.

  “I think of him. He didn’t have to stay to help us, but he did. You and Hank might not be here if he hadn’t. I think he really did love you.”

  I shrug. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because there’s nothing to do about it now. “You know what he once said? That maybe the world ended this way so that the people who belonged together would find each other.”

  “Was he talking about the two of you?”

  “We were talking about Caleb and Liz at the time.”

  “That match was not made in Heaven,” Peter says.

  “It was most definitely not written in the stars,” I say with a laugh. Zeke is much more Liz’s speed than overeager, nineteen year-old Caleb. “I don’t know that there is such a thing, but I’m still sitting here just in case Dan can see. I think we go on in one form or another. I hope so.”

  I know that if Adrian is watching, he’d understand why I want to remember Dan. Adrian wanted me to live, and Da
n is one of the reasons I’m still alive.

  “Reincarnation, maybe,” Peter says, and sips his tea.

  I groan. “Don’t say that. I am not coming back to this wasteland.”

  “I would.”

  “Well, you’re crazy,” I say. “Why would you do this again?”

  “I want more time. I’m not ready to give this up.”

  “I want more time with you guys. But when I’m done, I’m done. Imagine being born into this world? Imagine having a baby? Starting a family?”

  Peter’s quiet before he says, “It’s a leap of faith.”

  “It’s a trans-Atlantic flight of faith,” I say, to which he laughs. We watch the stars in silence. “Want to know what you’re looking at?”

  I lay my head beside his and move my finger as I tell him the stories. He’s gotten quite a few down by now. “You really do know them all,” he says when we’re finished.

  “Not all, but I will one day.”

  Peter points to just above the trees. “Is that what I think it is?”

  A faint green line has rippled into the dark. It’s followed by a shimmering yellow cloud and then another. A reddish cast slowly appears and unfurls like a ribbon. They pulse and shift and light up the sky. I could almost believe they’re made of fairy dust.

  “We should wake the kids,” I say.

  “I’ll get them.”

  Peter brings them out a few minutes later, and they watch the Northern Lights in awe before Bits whispers, “I’m going to make my wish. Are you?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “It has to be good. You only ever get one.”

  “I’ll think about it.” The red turns to fuchsia as I try to think of a big wish, but it’s the same as earlier. I make it anyway—it’s the only thing I want. I pull Hank close to me on the steps and ask, “Did you make your wish?”

  “Yes. I wished for X-Men comics.”

  “Hank!” Bits gasps. “That was such a waste!”

  “It doesn’t work, anyway. But I really do want them.”

  Bits sighs. “Did you make yours, Cassie?”

  “I did. And Hank can wish for whatever he wants. It’s his wish.” And now I have to find X-Men comics if it kills me.

  “I wished for Superman comics,” Peter says.

  Bits laughs at his joke. “That’s the best you could think of, Hank? How about graphic novels, at least?”

  That whole portion of sky is alight. I want to wake up everyone so they can see, but I don’t want the noise and commotion. There’ll be other nights. Right now I’m happy to sit here with these three, even though two of them argue cheerfully about the best graphic novel choice for a wish this grand.

  “Sorry we’ve crashed your party,” Peter murmurs.

  “This is much better,” I say. “It’s exactly what I would want to see if I were looking down from…wherever. You know we have to find him X-Men comics now, right?”

  “Maybe in Anchorage.”

  They’re making a trip south on snowmobiles, which means we can’t bring much back, but the plan is to kill whatever’s frozen in the infested places and then return with trucks in the spring. As First Guard, both Peter and I are invited.

  “We’re bound to find something good down there,” I say.

  “You’re really coming? You know it’s going to be cold, right?”

  “How cold could it be? It’s already like hell froze over.”

  62

  The answer to “How cold could it be?” is “Extremely fucking cold.” I had a vision, admittedly a ridiculous vision, of reaching somewhere warm upon arrival at our destination. But it’s dark stores and snow and frozen zombies all around when we reach the first shopping center. My first order of business is to make a trashcan fire and stand shivering over the flames until my hands work again.

  It’s peaceful, though, and the mountains outside of Anchorage are stunningly white. The only difference in temperature between indoors and out is the lack of snow, but I kind of enjoy walking around the empty stores. Every kid has dreamt of having an unbridled shopping spree, and each of us gets to fill our backpack with whatever we’d like as long as we can wear it back.

  But first, we have to kill all the Lexers so we’re not unpleasantly surprised come spring. Fred Meyer is empty of food but full of things that might come in handy, such as tools and garden supplies. We start at one end and sweep the store with our spikes until someone calls the all-clear, then it’s on to the next store once we’ve locked up.

  Peter and I head to a bookstore for comic books, where he laughs when I scare the crap out of myself twenty times. I know the Lexers are frozen, but that doesn’t stop my natural instinct to jump when I see one unexpectedly. We stuff X-Men comics and graphic novels in our bags. Now, besides baby stuff, I only need an espresso maker for Peter.

  We clear an outdoor store and a supermarket that has enough food to make killing a whole lot of zombies worth our time, but I’m no closer to finding what I need. I’m so cold that I’ve decided to give up and think of something else when I see a gourmet cooking store tucked into a high-end strip mall down the way. It’s my last hope, and I make an excuse to plod through the snow with Nelly.

  “What do you need over here, anyway?” he grumbles.

  “It’s for Peter. For Christmas.”

  “What about me?”

  “Pepsi, remember?”

  We break the glass door and peruse the rows of wire racks filled with fancy kitchen equipment. I wander around all the shiny steel and enameled pots until I find a small Italian stovetop espresso maker in the back. I shove it in my bag and pick up a Dutch oven that weighs a ton and cost over $300 once upon a time. It won’t fit in my bag, but Nelly has room.

  I put it in his arms and say, “Please?”

  “No way. You know I have to wear this thing all the way back.”

  “Pretty please?” I clasp my hands together. “It’s not for me. Peter used to have one the same color.”

  “Another thing for Peter? And all I get is Pepsi?”

  “A lot of Pepsi, which is the best present ever and you know it. This is from the kids. Can you just do it already? He did save your life, you know.”

  Nelly drops his head back the way he does when he’s going to give in. “Fine.”

  By the time we’ve gotten back, I’m frozen to the core. It was slower going with the full trailers, and my special fur boots and mittens and face mask did the job of keeping frostbite away, but that’s about it. I stand in the cabin, too cold to undress or take off my backpack or do anything except want to die.

  “What’d you get?” Bits asks.

  “It’s a secret,” Peter says.

  “What’s wrong with Cassie?” Hank asks.

  Peter knocks on my head. “She’s frozen solid.”

  He helps to remove my backpack and coat, and then seats me by the fire while he wrestles with my boots. It takes him, along with Bits and Hank, a good five minutes to figure out my double knots. My mouth has lost the range of movement needed to form speech, and I watch them and quake until I’ve regained feeling in my face and limbs.

  “I am never doing that again. Ever,” I finally say. “Thank you. I would’ve stood there all night.”

  “For a minute there I thought you’d have to wear those boots all night,” Peter says, and shakes out his fingers. “All right, time for bed, guys.”

  The kids go without a fuss because they know there’s Christmas stuff in the bags. I head for bed and huddle under the down comforter, but the cubes of ice at the end of my legs, formerly known as feet, won’t warm up. Peter brings in the lantern and gets on his side. I hear several pages of his book turn before he says, “What are you doing? Dancing?”

  “I’m putting my feet on my calves to warm them, but I have to keep switching.”

  “Put them on me.”

  I was going to ask, but I didn’t want it to be weird. Nelly has made me very conscious of what’s over the line and what isn’t. I’m not even su
re what’s over the line anymore. “Are you sure? They’re really, really cold.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know they’re cold. I’ve felt them before.”

  “It’s your funeral,” I say, and press them to his side.

  He jumps. “Holy shit!”

  “I told you. It’s a whole new level of cold.” He clamps his elbow over them while I bury my head in my pillow to wait out the pins and needles. When feeling has returned, I pull them back. “Thanks. Where’s Barnaby when you need him? It’s a one dog night.”

  “He’s still by the fire.”

  “So you filled the role of dog,” I say, and reach to ruffle his hair. “Good boy.”

  He catches my wrist and holds it in the air, wearing his usual teasing half-smile with a slightly-cocked eyebrow, but my reaction is anything but usual. I notice the shape of his lips and the way his t-shirt is just fitted enough to hint at what I know is a lean and sculpted chest. I imagine him pinning my hand above my head, those lips and that body on mine, and remember the taste of his mouth with sudden clarity. A flush rises from my abdomen to my cheeks when I allow myself to wonder what being with this version of Peter would be like. There are so many reasons it would be a bad idea—Ana, our friendship, Bits. Once it was done we couldn’t ever go back.

  I realize I’m staring when he lowers my hand to the bed with a friendly pat, but not before I see something flicker in his eyes—surprise, uneasiness or maybe even the same desire. The air is charged like that day we first saw the Rockies. And it strikes me, like one of those bolts of lightning that flashed overhead, that Peter already has my heart, and I want to seal the deal with my body.

  “Should I get the light?” he asks. The set of his features hasn’t changed and whatever I thought I saw is gone. But when he averts his eyes and waits patiently in the few extra seconds it takes me to find my voice, I know I saw something.

  “Sure,” I whisper.

  I lie in the dark, wondering if he felt what I did. I’m afraid he didn’t and afraid he did at the same time. I’ve been convinced that I love Peter in a way that isn’t romantic but not exactly the way I love Nelly. We have a connection that I attribute to Bits, but maybe it’s been there since the night we met, when he gave me a glimpse of who he really was—who he is now. He would draw me in, but he also pushed me away so consistently that I’d finally decided he wasn’t worth my time, energy and love. I was wrong.