The End of Everything Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3]

by Artinian, Christopher

  The table stayed in position, but both sisters stepped back as now the table’s integrity had been damaged. Robyn retreated a few more paces so she could manoeuvre and load the bow. Sensing what her sister was doing, Wren went down on one knee and continued to drive the javelin at anything that appeared in the gap.

  Robyn fired and another creature went down, but in that couple of seconds, she saw even more beasts had gained access to the kitchen and others were making their way in. Two more monstrous faces appeared in the gap, one of them taller than the rest as it used a fallen body as a step up. The pine table let out another loud pop, and this time, its position shifted.

  “Wren, get back!” shouted Robyn.

  Wren ignored her and continued to drive the javelin into the attackers. Robyn kept firing. Another creature went down, and although she could no longer see the window nearest to the door, she looked towards the others and saw daylight once again.

  Four more beasts suddenly hurled their bodies towards the barricade, joining the two still left standing. There was another deafening crack, and the table snapped in two. The barricade was gone.

  chapter 11

  Wren and Robyn screamed simultaneously as they watched the disaster unfold. Wren threw herself backwards, and with the javelin still in one hand, she speed shuffled a few feet down the hall, as the momentum of the storming horde became the creatures’ momentary downfall as all the beasts stumbled forward without time to halt, collapsing into a writhing pile. Still more from the kitchen were delayed attempting to scramble over them.

  Robyn loaded an arrow and fired quickly, dropping one beast like a lead weight onto the struggling mound of arms and bodies. Wren ran forwards while Robyn loaded her weapon again. She thrust the javelin hard into the heads of two more creatures at the top of the squirming pile, making it even harder for the struggling monsters beneath to crawl free. She retreated with equal speed and ducked down to give her sister a clear line of sight. Despite there being fewer attackers, the noise seemed to amplify in the narrow confines of the hallway.

  Another beast lunged over the small mountain. Robyn fired and missed, but Wren rushed forward once again and jammed the end of the javelin through the monster’s eye socket, pushing it hard to make it fall backwards on the ever growing hill of bodies. Another creature began to struggle over the increasingly uneven surface; Robyn brought this one down with a well-aimed shot before firing a second, third, and fourth shot, all while Wren kept low, jabbing and retreating, extinguishing the last ripples of movement from the flailing pile.

  Robyn loaded another arrow and waited, and waited, and waited; but nothing else appeared in the doorway. Her sister remained down on one knee with the javelin still clenched tightly in her hands. She looked back towards Robyn. Their chests were heaving, sweat was running down their foreheads and their backs, and the only sound in the hallway now was that of their own laboured breaths.

  “I daren’t look out there,” Wren said.

  “Just give it a minute. There might be a couple of stragglers.” The two sisters remained still; two minutes ran into three, and three into four before Robyn finally brought her loaded bow down.

  Wren stood up, looked out towards the kitchen, then back to her sister. “If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, we’d be dead now.”

  “It was both of us, Wren.”

  “No. The table. The table was the thing that saved us. I’d have shut the door and run into one of the bedrooms, but they’d have broken through in a heartbeat and we’d be dead. You gave us the time we needed. You were amazing.”

  “We were both amazing. We covered each other,” she said finally allowing herself a small smile. “My heart’s still racing.”

  “Mine too. There are still more of them at the gate.”

  “Just give me a minute. My legs are jelly.”

  Wren laughed. “Yeah, our heads have finally caught up to our bodies.”

  “I really don’t fancy cleaning this up,” Robyn said.

  “Yeah, I think it’s about time we moved. The neighbourhood’s really turned to shit.”

  Robyn and Wren walked down the hall to the back door and stood at the lace curtained window looking out towards the lane. The horde had diminished. There was the odd, slow-moving creature passing by, impeded by the damaged physical state of the body it had in life. At their gate there were just eight beasts still standing there, not sure why; not sure what the others like them had seen to compel them to surround the house; not sure where those others had gone. Nonetheless, they were there.

  “Shall we go and clear them?” Robyn asked.

  “We’ll leave it a few minutes. They can’t get over the gate. I need a drink; my throat’s raw.”

  “Yeah, I might join you.”

  They walked back down the hall and carefully climbed over the mound of bodies that was stacked in the entrance. When Wren was across, she stopped and reached back to offer her sister a hand to help her as she balanced her way across the uneven pile of decaying flesh and bone. They looked around the kitchen; a number of creatures were strewn across the floor. Wren walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water for herself and another for her sister. They unscrewed the caps and gulped thirstily.

  “I don’t think I want to come back here after today,” Wren said.

  “No, me neither.”

  “We’ll finish our drinks, get our stuff together, and—damn.”

  “What is it?” Robyn asked.

  “The wheelbarrow. We’ve left the wheelbarrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter; we can get it in the morning.”

  “But there’s stuff we need to take to the farmhouse. It won’t all fit in our rucksacks. We’ve got food and supplies here. There are blankets and towels…there’s all sorts.”

  “Okay, okay, it’s not a big deal. So we will come back after today, but we take as much as we can in our rucksacks now. We’ll come back tomorrow with empty rucksacks and the wheelbarrow and take the rest of it. Then, as far as I’m concerned, this place doesn’t exist.”

  “Fair enough,” Wren replied.

  “Right, let’s clear the rest of those things from the gate.” Wren picked up her javelin. “You should use your crossbow. It will be good target practice.”

  “Good idea.” Wren looked thoughtful for a moment. “When we come back tomorrow, we need to bring gloves with us.”

  “What for?”

  “We’ll need to collect all the arrows and the bolts.”

  “Eugh! No thanks.”

  “Bobbi, we have to.”

  “We’ve got loads. Why would we need to?”

  “Because they’re not going to be making any more of these, and I don’t know any fletchers, do you?”

  Robyn looked around at all the creatures she had killed. “Gross.”

  “Arrows can be used a few times, just like the bolts. We’d be stupid to waste them; we have no idea what we’ll need in the future.”

  Robyn let out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right, but talk about...puke worthy.”

  “Trust me, you’ll be grateful we did.”

  “Uh-huh, I’ll hold you to that.”

  The pair of them finished their drinks and placed the bottles back in the fridge. “Funny what habits die hard isn’t it?” Wren said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s not as if the power’s ever going to go back on, yet we still put water in the fridge. We may as well keep it in the cupboard with the plates, or in the electric oven, for that matter. The temperature’s going to be the same wherever.”

  “I’d not really thought about it. When the kitchen smells like a sewer and the floor is littered with the carcasses of a load of dead zombies. My head tends to think about other things, y’know, like, how the hell are we still alive? But then again, I’ve always been weird like that.”

  “Smart arse.” Wren looked around the at the devastation and it finally began to sink in what they had just done, what they had just
been through. “Love you, Bobbi.”

  “Love you too.”

  The two girls climbed back over the bodies in the entrance to the hall to grab their respective bows when suddenly, a three-fingered hand closed around Robyn’s ankle and she let out a terrified scream.

  Wren turned, following her sister’s eyeline down to the floor. One of the beasts they thought they had finished off was using Robyn as an anchor to pull itself free from the pile of undead carcasses.

  Wren flipped her javelin like it was a baton and sank it into the head of the creature; immediately, Robyn yanked her foot free, and both sisters let out a relieved breath before heading to the back door.

  The familiar growls greeted them as they emerged from the house, but with much less volume than their ears had endured during the hallway siege. The creatures instantly became more agitated at the sight of the two girls, and their volume increased, but after what Robyn and Wren had just been through, it did not evoke the same level of fear as it might have done before.

  Wren pulled the cocking lever on the pistol crossbow and placed in the bolt. She steadied her aim by bringing up her left hand too, and carefully lined up the sight. She squeezed the trigger and the bolt flew through the open mouth of one of the creatures and straight through the back of its head. Somehow, the beast remained standing and Wren looked towards Robyn with a confused expression on her face. “How is that even possible?” she asked.

  “Beats me,” Robyn said, plucking an arrow from her quiver and carefully taking aim. She released the string and the arrow gracefully flew through the air, then not so gracefully penetrated the forehead of one of the beasts at the gate. It collapsed instantly, and she drew another arrow.

  “It’s weird how little these things bleed, it’s like the clots just blob out,” Wren said.

  “It’s like their blood’s already congealed. It’s creepy,” Robyn said, making another headshot.

  Wren lined up her sight and squeezed the trigger again. This time the bolt shot straight through the forehead of her target. It stood there for a moment, its body frozen against the metal gate, its arms still outstretched, then it just flopped like a glove puppet whose controlling hand had vanished in a puff of air.

  The two sisters finished off the remainder of the creatures before they went back into the house. They packed their rucksacks and within ten minutes they were back at the gate, casting a final glance at the cottage.

  “Just one more time. We only have to come back one more time, and then we never have to come back again,” Wren said.

  “C’mon, let’s get home.”

  There was no way they could move as fast as they’d like with the rucksacks on their backs, a holdall being carried between them, and a weapon each in their outer hand. Their senses were on high alert as they walked along the lane. Every sound was a threat, every shimmer was something sinister. As they approached each bend, Wren felt her hand tighten around the javelin.

  “This will be another in a long line of days that I look forward to putting behind me,” Wren said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  They rounded the final turn and there was another creature—hopefully the last they would see on this day. One of its legs looked like it had been mangled in an accident and although by some miracle, it remained upright, and in forward motion, it did not present the same sort of threat that the other beasts had. The two sisters stopped and Wren lowered the handle of her holdall. “I’ll deal with this one,” she said, shuffling the rucksack from her back.

  She slowly walked towards the limping beast and remembered her thoughts from a few days earlier, about that movie, The Night of the Living Dead. She had remembered how the zombies in that film had all been slow moving. She had remembered wishing that was all the world was facing now, rather than the relentless killing machines these monsters were.

  This monstrosity; this damaged, slow and broken thing that hobbled towards her with almost pleading hands was still nothing like the zombies in that film. There had been a pathos to them; a sad inevitability that they would roam through the rest of eternity as soulless ghouls, having no purpose but to exist at the cost of others. Wren could feel no pity or sadness for this thing in front of her, though. Even with its broken body, it oozed malevolence. Its eyes waged war, its teeth flashed, and it was only then that Wren noticed the dried blood around its mouth. This demonic creation was no different to any of the monsters she had seen before. It was no different to the beasts she had killed in that kitchen; it was no different to the one she had faced in the woods when she and her sister were trying to escape Edinburgh. It was no different to the beast that had attacked her father and left her an orphan. She hated it. She hated what it stood for. She hated everything about it.

  “Don’t let it get too close, Wren. That’s the whole point of the javelin, remember? Long reach.”

  Without her realising it, tears were streaming down Wren’s face as she stood there. She had never cried tears of hatred before, but that’s what these were. She let the beast get nearer, tantalising it by making no move, allowing it to believe it could catch her, that it could feed on her, that it could turn her.

  “Wren! What are you doing!?” demanded Robyn, flicking the rucksack from her back and grabbing an arrow.

  The creature’s fingers were millimetres away from the fabric of Wren’s t-shirt when she made her move. She swiped the javelin round hard and low, knocking its feet from beneath it. The beast landed hard on the tarmac, smashing its head. Its growls continued and it began to struggle to its feet. Wren stabbed the javelin hard through the knee on its one good leg, causing the creature to collapse to the floor once again. It stretched out its right arm towards her, and she brought the javelin down again and again on its shoulder until all hand movement stopped. It tried to roll back onto its knees, but Wren plunged the javelin into the middle of its back, once, twice, three times, four times. Then lower, at the base of the spine, again and again, until the beast could no longer move its legs.

  “Come on then,” she said with tears still streaming from her eyes. “Come on! Bite me. Turn me. Eat me. Come on!” she said, as the creature feebly angled its head towards her. Its mouth still moved up and down; its eyes still saw everything, but most of its body had been rendered useless. She stabbed its upper back and neck, again and again, and now, the beast could move its eyes and nothing else.

  “Wren! Please! Stop!” Robyn pleaded. “I’m begging you, please, that’s enough!”

  “It will never be enough,” Wren said, driving the javelin through the creature’s temple and finally laying it to rest. She turned to look at her sister. “It will never be enough.”

  chapter 12

  Robyn walked up behind Wren and took the javelin from her. She eased her left hand into Wren’s right, and squeezed it. “Are you okay, sis?” she asked in little more than a whisper.

  Wren turned around to look at her. Tears streaked her face and her chest was heaving up and down as she tried desperately to fend off another bout of crying. She opened her mouth to say something, but a hollow rasp was all she could manage.

  “Come on,” Robyn said. “Let’s get home.” The two girls put the rucksacks on their backs, and picked up one handle of the holdall each. They did not talk until they reached the farm.

  “Oh god!” Wren said. They gaped at the white stone chips in the farmyard. It looked like they had been churned by a thousand feet. “Why would they come in here?”

  “I dunno.” She looked towards the chimney. “Maybe there was smoke still coming out when they were going past. Maybe some of them took a detour. I hope there aren’t any still kicking around here.”

  “No. I think we’re okay,” Wren said. “Look, they don’t stray beyond the house. They’re not messed up over there. It’s almost like they were walking in circles.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’ve had my fill for today.”

  “Me too.”

  They walked into the kitchen, dropped the holdall and c
ould immediately feel the comforting heat from the range. “Home sweet home,” Robyn said as she closed the door behind them.

  “Yeah, once we’ve swept it…then we can relax,” Wren replied. Robyn’s shoulders sagged, but she knew her sister was right. They shouted and banged on the walls, going cautiously room to room like they were in some American cop show. Thankfully, the place was empty and they felt secure.

  They put down their weapons and wriggled out of their rucksacks. Wren looked towards her sister, and almost as if they’d read the other’s mind, they started closing every pair of curtains, every set of blinds in the house. When they were done, they met back in the kitchen.

  “I need a drink,” Robyn said, beginning to search the cupboards.

  “Glasses are in the top cupboard,” Wren said.

  “I know where the glasses are. I’m looking for a bottle of something. I need a real drink.”

  “I need a bath,” Wren said.

  “A bath sounds good. A bath and a drink.”

  “I get the first bath. I said it first.”

  “There’ll probably only be enough hot water for one. We’ll share it like we did when we were kids.”

  Wren thought about it for a moment. “Okay, but if I see bubbles, when there aren’t meant to be any, you’re getting out.”

  Robyn laughed. “Fair enough.”

  Wren headed into the large bathroom. There was a shower cubicle at one end and a deep bath with a centre tap. She turned it on and poured in some foam bath, leaving the water to run a few seconds before placing her hand in and dragging it back and forth several time to create a small island of bubbles. “Ow,” she said as the water quickly became scalding.

  She arrived back in the kitchen to find Robyn opening a bottle of white wine and pouring it into two glasses. “We never got to drink our vodka from back at the surgery did we? I think we could both do with a drink after today.”