the end of everything box set
Books 1-3
Christopher Artinian
The End of Everything Box Set Copyright © 2020 by Christopher Artinian. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Christian Bentulan
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Christopher Artinian
Visit my website at www.christopherartinian.com
The End of Everything
Book 1
Christopher Artinian
Dedication
To the family we have, and the family we have lost.
To receive my book, Before and Beyond Safe Haven, absolutely free (for a limited time only) click here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/1v9xdaxx77
Chapter 1
The banging against the thick pine door had stopped over thirty minutes ago, but Wren was still sat in one corner of the room with her knees tucked up to her chest, gently rocking back and forth. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the entrance, which she had wedged shut by turning her bed on its side and squeezing it into place, scuffing the skirting board and tearing big swathes of wallpaper. Her tears were nothing more than salty trails on both cheeks now, but it would not take much for the torrents to start again. The newly double-glazed windows could only block out so much of the terror from outside, as screams echoed around the usually quiet suburb.
Less than an hour before, she had been downstairs with her family, preparing for their journey north, and now...now this. Wren climbed to her feet but kept her back to the wall. The wall gave her comfort. With the wall behind her, she did not need eyes in the back of her head.
“Brian! Please, no!” came the petrified scream from outside.
Brian was Wren’s neighbour, next door but one. The voice that had shouted, quivery, broken, but most of all terrified, and it sounded like Brian’s partner, Catriona. Wren edged to the window and peered out through the slit in the blinds. She could see Catriona, backing down the street, looking towards the door to her house. Because of the angle, Wren could not see what Catriona was looking at. Suddenly, the terrified woman turned and began to run, letting out another chilling scream.
Brian, or what used to be Brian, ran from the house and down their garden path, hurtling towards Catriona. With each stride he gained on her, and as he leapt through the air and his hands grabbed Catriona’s shoulders, Wren pulled back from the window. A blood-curdling scream ricocheted up and down the street. Wren let out a whimper and slid back down to the floor, folding her arms tightly around herself, and began to rock back and forth once again.
In the distance, the sound of gunfire rang out. Sustained volleys continued for some time before diminishing and then going silent. Wren remained on the floor, hoping that she was going to wake up soon and it was all just a horrible nightmare.
She did not know how long she had been sat shaking before she realised she needed to pee. The bathroom was at the end of the landing, a mere few feet away from her bedroom door, but…but she didn’t know if her family was still in the house. Her family had undergone the metamorphosis that millions, if not billions, of others had. They were not her family anymore. Now they were something else. It started with a bite and in no time at all…. Her eyes filled with tears again.
She knew she would have to face these creatures at some point, but it was too soon. It was too soon to open that door. Wren grabbed the small plastic bin that sat underneath her desk, she took out the torn up envelopes and the empty biro, and placed the bin back down on the carpet. She carefully unbuttoned her jeans and crouched over the receptacle. She let out a long sigh and squatted there for several seconds before the sound of water spraying against plastic began.
When she had finished, she buttoned her jeans and carried the bucket across to the window. She looked up and down the street but saw no one. As quietly as she could, she levered the blinds to one side, pulled up the handle on the UPVC window and opened it. The faintest squeak sounded and she paused, fearful that something outside her door had heard her and a barrage of bangs and thuds would begin once again. When nothing happened, she pushed the window open a little further and tipped out the contents of the bucket. Her nose creased a little as the yellow liquid flowed out of the opaque plastic bin and splashed onto the paving slabs below. When the final drops had drained, she pulled the window shut and placed the bin back underneath her desk.
There was still a slight smell of urine in the room, but she would rather endure that than face whatever fate awaited her out on the landing. Wren heard the screech of tyres and rushed back to the window. A van sped down the street, smashing the wing mirror of a parked car as it went. Reflective glass flew into the air almost in slow motion. As it smashed into smaller pieces on the ground, the van’s tyres screeched again, taking a bend way too fast, hitting the kerb and cartwheeling over a garden fence before destroying the front of a house in an explosion of glass and masonry.
Wren let out a frightened gasp to see such horror. What had caused the occupant of the van to drive so recklessly? Then she saw them. More than a dozen of the creatures sprinted down the street in the direction of the crashed vehicle. Like ants crawling greedily over a piece of discarded food, they stumbled around and over the van to get to any living prey. Despite the thick glass, Wren heard the bone-chilling scream of a woman, presumably being attacked by one of those things. Wren stepped back from the window. She had no idea what to do, or where to go.
She turned around and looked at her trophy shelves. All that work, and now it was for nothing. She was going to be in the squad for the next Commonwealth Games, but now…all that training…all those early mornings and late nights...she had missed out on parties and fun and boys…all for the chance to compete. Had it all been for nothing?
Wren paced up and down her room, trying to tread lightly and remembering to avoid the creaky floorboards. She could not stay in there forever; she would have to make a break for it sooner or later. Her mother and father had decided that the family were going to travel north, to Inverness. Wren’s grandad lived up there. The theory was that the fewer people there were, the safer it would be, and Inverness had about a tenth the population of Edinburgh. It seemed like sound logic.
Wren paused in front of her shelf. She looked at the trophies and medals one last time, then turned to look at her bedroom door. “Screw this,” she said, marching across the floor, creaky floorboards and all. She stood by the upturned bed for a few seconds before banging hard on the door, one, two, three times. Then she waited…and waited. There were no charging feet, no volley of battering fists and hands, there was nothing.
Wren stood there a full minute just listening, but did not hear anything that suggested there was someone in the house other than herself. She struck the door with her palm three more times and waited another minute. She was greeted only by silence.
She let out a deep sigh before beginning to drag the bed away from the door. It was wedged hard, and in the end, she had to leapfrog over and put her back against it to push it out of the way. She moved it back close to its usual position and went to stand back at the door. She took a tight hold of the handle, closed her eyes, and whispered a small prayer. As
she opened them again, she levered the handle down and pulled the door inwards. The landing was clear. She stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
Now, out of the confines and safety of her bedroom, she was not so brave. She tiptoed across the landing, peeking through each open door as she went. Upstairs was most definitely devoid of anyone but her. She walked into the bathroom and cupped her hand underneath the cold water tap, taking a couple of good drinks before heading back along the landing and to the staircase.
She looked down the thirteen carpeted stairs, and a torrent of memories came flooding back to her. This was the house she had grown up in, and now, she would always remember it as the house her family had died in. She began to move, taking a firm hold of the bannister as she went. One foot after another, she descended the stairs, then she came to a sudden stop as the seventh step let out a creak that sliced through the silence like a scythe. Wren stayed there frozen as the seconds dragged into a minute, but nothing came out of the shadows to meet her. She continued her journey down until she hit the solid surface of the hall floor. Wren looked right, to the small entrance hall and back door, then turned left. She popped her head around the corner of the small toilet; it was empty. She stepped into the large kitchen diner. The front door was still wide open. The family had been loading the car when it happened, when their world had come to a sudden end. She hoped they were all gone now. What she would not give to see them again, but as their old selves, not the new form they had taken. As Wren approached the door, she tiptoed to look over the breakfast bar; there was definitely nobody left behind.
She closed the front door and turned the key in the lock, placing her back firmly against it and letting out a sigh of relief. A scream pierced the distant air and Wren didn’t feel quite so relieved any more. She headed back out of the kitchen and down the long hallway to the living room. She was about to open the door when a hollow thud from inside turned her blood to ice.
She ran back into the kitchen and opened a drawer, pulling out a long carving knife. There was nobody left to protect her. She had seen what had happened to her mother and father; she would never forget those images, ever. Now, whatever was waiting for her in the living room was something she would have to face by herself. More than face, though, she would have to deal with it. If it was one of those creatures, if it was a reanimated corpse, no matter whose face it wore, it was no longer human. She would have to learn that, otherwise risk turning into one herself.
She stepped back out into the hallway as something clattered on the floor in the living room. Wren held the handle of the knife in both hands, pointing it towards the door, as if trying to ward off whatever evil lay behind it. Another thud came from inside, and she could feel her heart beating faster and her legs begin to quake with fear as she placed her fingers on the door handle. She would have to act fast—she had seen how quickly those things moved. A memory flashed across her vision; she and her sister, Robyn, sneaking downstairs when she was just eleven to watch a late-night horror movie. It was a black and white zombie film from the sixties, and it was scary as hell. What Wren wouldn’t give to face those clumsy, slow-moving, living dead things now, rather than these...monsters.
She held her breath. One...two...three, before bursting through the door. The afternoon sun almost blinded her as she stormed into the living room from the dark hallway. A figure stood in the bay window, silhouetted against the backdrop of the white lace curtains. No time to think—charge. Wren ran towards it, letting out a banshee-like howl, but the figure remained still until it put its hands up in front of itself defensively.
“Wren!” it shouted, dropping a large wrought iron candlestick holder on the floor.
Wren stopped in her tracks, letting her eyes focus. The adrenalin was still pumping and her heart was pounding, but she managed to reel in her primal instincts. “Robyn?” Wren looked at the knife in her hand before dropping it on the floor with a look of pure horror on her face. She had nearly killed her sister. “Oh, Robyn,” she said, throwing her arms around her sibling and squeezing her tight. The pair of them began to sob. They had both seen what had happened to their mother and father, they had both fled, each assuming the other had fallen victim to the virus. Now, suddenly, they were able to savour the happiness of finding one another alive. They stayed like that for over a minute and when they pulled back, their eyes were red their faces streaked with salty tears.
“I heard noise in here; I thought it was one of those things,” Wren said, finally finding her voice.
“I was looking for a weapon; the candlestick holder was all I could find. It has a spike on the end,” her sister replied.
“Didn’t you hear me earlier?”
“I thought you were one of them! I’ve been in this room ever since this morning.”
“Did you see the van?”
“I heard it. Then I saw those things. Most of the time, I’ve been hiding behind the sofa. They were banging on your door forever…then it all stopped. That’s when I thought they’d got you too.”
“I wedged my bed against the entrance. They couldn’t get in.”
“I wedged the sofa against this one. I pulled it away about an hour ago and I’ve been trying to build up the courage to head out ever since. I was hungry, but I heard noise in the kitchen. I tried to stay as quiet as I could, hoping whatever it was would head out again. If I’d have tried to push the sofa back, I’d have been heard for sure.”
“I locked the front door. We’re safe for the time being.”
Wren was fifteen, Robyn was seventeen; they looked very similar but for the fact Wren still had her natural blonde hair which she tied back in a ponytail, while Robyn had cropped hers a bit shorter and dyed it black. “You want a sandwich?” asked Wren as she headed into the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
There was no electricity, but the water was still running for the time being. She made two potted meat sandwiches and put them on the kitchen table. She poured two glasses of juice and handed one to Robyn as she came in.
The two of them sat down and began to stuff the food into their mouths; they were starving. They finished the sandwiches in no time, then went to make two more. When they were finally finished eating and drinking, they headed upstairs to Robyn’s room, where she got changed into fresh clothes. “We need to decide what we’re going to do,” Robyn said, as Wren sat on the bed.
“I think we should stick with the original plan. I think we should head to Grandad’s. It makes sense—less people, less danger.”
“And how do you propose we do that? Neither of us can drive and Inverness is over a hundred and fifty miles away.”
“We can’t stay here,” Wren shrugged.
“I don’t disagree. But Inverness?”
“Where then?”
Robyn went quiet. “I don’t know.”
“Look. It’s not as mad as it sounds,” Wren said. “We do it in stages. There are, like, over four hundred thousand people in Edinburgh. Inverness? Maybe forty? Fifty thousand? That alone makes it a lot safer.”
“Oh yeah, you’re absolutely right. Instead of fighting four hundred thousand zombies, we’d only have to fight forty thousand. It’s a real no brainer,” Robyn said, pulling on a fresh t-shirt.
“Well, you come up with an idea then. But think about it; Grandad can do anything. He can build anything. If anyone could get through this thing, it’s him.”
“Once again, I agree with you, but, and this is an important but, IT’S ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES AWAY!!!”
“Look, sis. You and me are very different, I get that. But I also know we can do this,” Wren said, standing up and heading to the door. “I’m going to get my rucksack and start packing.”
“I’ve not said I’m going.”
“Look. There are some things we can agree on. Mum and Dad aren’t coming back. You and I are still alive, but we won’t be for long if we stay here. We need to get out of the city. Yes or no? Do you agree with all those points?” Wren asked.
Robyn sat down on the bed and thought for a moment as she put on a fresh pair of socks. “I suppose so. Yes.”
“Right then. We’re agreed we’re leaving. I’m going to pack my rucksack. You should pack one too. Wherever we’re going, whatever we’re doing, we will never be coming back here.”
chapter 2
Wren placed her empty rucksack on the bed. This was going to be tough. She stood in front of her trophy shelves. All the medals, all the prizes. As much as she would like to take them all with her, she could not. They were not practical. The rucksack would have to be filled with the essentials. “Maybe just one thing.” She smiled and reached for an envelope on the back shelf. It was the letter saying she had been chosen to be a part of the team at the next Commonwealth games. She might not be able to fit in any of the Heptathlon trophies, but fitting in a letter was no big deal. She put it in a small plastic bag to make sure, even if it got wet, it would be safe, then she put it in the bottom of her rucksack.
“It’s just a piece of paper y’know?” Robyn said as she watched from the doorway.
Wren flushed red. “I know,” she mumbled.
“I’m only joking,” replied Robyn, walking into the bedroom. “Mum and Dad were so proud the day that letter arrived.”
“Thanks Robyn, that’s really nice of you to say. Did you want something?”
“Naa, I’d just come to see what you were packing. I mean, it’s a tough one isn’t it? I want to take some photos, too. Of Mum...and Dad...and all of us.” Wren started to cry again and Robyn hugged her. Tears began to roll down her cheeks too. All this had just happened; they were both still in shock, but they were forced to think about their own survival as well.
They stayed that way for a few moments before a scream from outside sent chills through them. They went to the window, staying to the side, making sure they could not be seen from the street. A woman was lying in the middle of the road; her arms flailed weakly as two creatures bit chunks out of her thighs and torso.
The End of Everything Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3] Page 1
