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

by Artinian, Christopher

  Wren picked up the glass and took a drink, immediately wincing. “It’s like vinegar.”

  Robyn took a drink too. “Yeah, it’s not the best wine I’ve tasted, and it could do with being a lot colder, but it’ll get the job done.”

  “Do you think we should? I mean, what if more of those things come?”

  “Look. We’ve closed all the curtains. We won’t put another log in the stove until it’s dark and we’re not going to get pished on one bottle of wine, but hopefully, it might just take the edge off.”

  Wren thought about the day, and she also thought about how ill she had felt after she’d drunk champagne that time. But this was more than her sister just offering her a drink. This was her sister offering to bond with her. She took another drink of the wine. “I don’t suppose we’re going to have that many opportunities. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

  Robyn smiled. “C’mon, let’s see if the water’s ready,” she said, picking up her glass, and the bottle, and taking them into the bathroom.

  Wren took another sip and followed her sister. Steam had already coated the mirrors and tiles. “Erm, I don’t think opening the window would be a good idea for the time being. We’ll just have to suffer the steam.”

  “Yeah, I think I can make that sacrifice,” Wren said, smiling.

  “Thomas and Isabel must have had some cash. This bathroom would have cost a small fortune,” Robyn said, taking off her top and unbuttoning her trousers.

  “They didn’t strike me as poor.” Wren put her glass down and began undressing too. The stomach wound she had suffered while scaling the fence in Edinburgh had just scarred over. She ran her fingertips over the rough skin.

  “Don’t worry, it will fade with time. A few months and you’ll barely see it.”

  “Don’t know why I’m bothered. It’s not like anybody’s ever going to see it but me. It’s not like I’m ever going to find a boyfriend, is it?” she said, reaching for her glass again and taking another drink.

  Robyn slipped off her pants and tested the water. “Ow! That’s like lava.” She turned it off and started running the cold tap. “Hey, you don’t know that. There are other survivors. I mean, Brendan was kinda cute in a country boy way, and then there’s those guys who came here the other day from...wherever it was…”

  “Loch Uig.”

  “Yeah, them. They said they’d got away unscathed. There might be loads of places like that. We’re staying here for now, while everything is so dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that things won’t get better. It doesn’t mean that we’re never going to meet anyone else.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She tested the water herself, and turned off the tap, before taking off her pants and climbing in.

  “Is it okay?”

  “It’s hot, but nice.”

  Robyn climbed in at the opposite end, and slid back against the ceramic, slowly edging down and letting the water and bubbles cover her. The sisters jostled their feet and legs to get comfy, then both sank down further, just leaving their noses and the top of their heads out of the water for the time being. Bubbles emerged from the middle of the bath and Wren started giggling.

  Robyn pulled her head up. “You dirty cow!” she said, laughing.

  “Sorry. Better out than in.”

  “No. Whoever first said that was A: Gross, and B: a pig.”

  “Whatever,” Wren said, reaching for her glass, and prompting Robyn to do the same.

  “Mum would go mental if she thought I was letting you drink.”

  Wren smiled. “I really miss them.”

  “I do too.”

  “It would have been Mum’s birthday tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  “She was a really great mum,” Wren said.

  “You’re not going to be one of those sad drunks are you? The whole point of us having a drink is to relax and forget about all the bad stuff for a little while.”

  “Yep. I’m sorry,”

  Robyn watched her for a moment. There was only two years’ difference between them, and Wren was grown up and very mature in so many ways, but when it came to feelings, she was still a child. “No. I’m sorry. She was a great mum. She was the best. And I promise you, when we get this place secure, we’re going to mourn them both properly.” She leaned forward in the bath with her glass. “To Mum and Dad,” she said.

  Wren leant forward too, and they clinked glasses. “To Mum and Dad.”

  They reclined once again and each took a sip of wine before twisting around and placing their glasses down on the ledge again.

  “It’s starting to get dark.”

  “Shame we didn’t bring a candle in.”

  “Erm, probably just as well. We don’t want anything to see us in here. I don’t have a problem fighting those things, but I’d prefer not to do it with my boobs bouncing about and my arse on display dripping in bubble bath…given a choice, that is.”

  Wren started giggling. “Yeah, I think that’s better for everybody concerned. It’s already dark in here without your arse blocking out any remaining sun.”

  “Cheeky cow,” Robyn said, lifting her foot out of the water and bringing it down again quickly, causing a burst of foam to splash into Wren’s face, and making them both giggle even more.

  “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve heard boys like big bums.”

  “My bum is not big, thank you very much.”

  “Depends what you compare it to, I suppose.”

  Robyn splashed her foot again causing water to go everywhere and making them both hysterical. “We can’t all be built like Olympic athletes.”

  They both took another drink from their glass. Robyn leaned forward with the bottle and refilled Wren’s, before doing the same with her own. “This is fun.”

  “Yeah. We’ll have to find a book about how to make wine,” Robyn said, laughing.

  “Erm...no we won’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That book I showed you...the self-sufficiency one.”

  “What about it?”

  “There’s a section in it on how to make wine...and cider...and beer.”

  A look of excitement swept across Robyn’s face as she took a drink from her glass. “I have told you you’re my favourite sister, haven’t I?”

  “It’s not that easy. There’s a lot of work involved.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a nerd and you can figure everything out. I’m thick, and I don’t mind doing the work, you just have to tell me what to do. I can see it now,” Robyn said, bringing her hand out of the water and motioning in an arc, “Robyn and Wren’s home brewed cider. I could make the labels.”

  “You’re not thick.”

  “Compared to you, I am.”

  “We just have different interests, that’s all.”

  Robyn laughed. “Yeah, like, I’m into boys and having a good time. Can I get a degree in that? If I can, then I take it back, I’m a frikkin’ genius.”

  “Don’t be daft.”

  “I just don’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’m not gifted like you, and making out I am won’t do me any good.”

  “That’s crap,” Wren said, taking a drink.

  “No, that’s the truth,” Robyn replied.

  “Look. You might not be an A student, but that’s because you’re not interested in that type of stuff. Look what happens when you take to something. I mean, look at you and the bow.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not something that makes me smart or anything, is it?”

  “What is smart? Smart isn’t about retention of information, Bobbi, it’s about applying what you know. You saved us today. If it wasn’t for you and that bow, we wouldn’t be here now. You picked it up just the other day and it’s like you were made for it. You understood it straight away. Like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like...Do you remember Aunt Sara’s Newfoundland?”

  “Bear?”

  “Yeah. Well, remember the first time we went
to the beach with him? And he just ran into the water and started swimming, like he’d done it a thousand times before. He was just a pup. He didn’t understand what he was doing. He didn’t look at his paws and say, they’re webbed, that must mean I’m a good swimmer. No, he ran into the water, because that was his instinct, it was what he was made for. It’s like you with the bow. You’re a natural.”

  They both took a drink. “I suppose.”

  “Suppose nothing,” Wren replied. “You call me a nerd. You call me gifted. I read how to aim and fire that thing, but for the life of me I couldn’t. Books will only get you so far, Bobbi. When you have a knack for something, when you enjoy something, it’s a whole different board game. So, you didn’t like maths, you didn’t like history, you didn’t like geography, so what? How useful are those subjects to us right now?”

  Robyn smiled. “I hope I’m good at making booze,” she said.

  Wren laughed. “Well, you’re great at drinking it. You seem to have a natural aptitude for that.”

  Robyn raised her glass. “Just taking my little sister’s advice. Trying to excel where I can.”

  Robyn refilled their glasses, draining the bottle. “That’s it?” Wren said, disappointed.

  “I think there are a couple more bottles downstairs, and we’ve still got that vodka, but we better save all that for another night. I’m sure you’ve got plenty planned for us tomorrow.”

  Wren took another sip from her glass. “First thing we need to do is get the wheelbarrow. Then we need to—”

  “Tomorrow, Wren, tomorrow. Let’s just not think about anything for a little while.”

  “Sorry,” Wren said, a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t apologise. That giant, controlling, organising brain of yours is what’s going to get us through all this. But just for the rest of tonight, I want us to be seventeen and fifteen. I want us to be two sisters having a laugh. I want the world outside the window not to exist. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The driver cut the engine and the lights just as the minibus entered the stone-chipped yard. He pulled on the handbrake and watched as the outline of four large lorries slowly came to a stop on the narrow, moonlit road outside.

  The back doors to the minibus opened and nine men wearing black, all carrying L85 rifles climbed out. The two front doors opened, the driver climbed out, but TJ remained in the passenger seat for a moment. He looked at the men who had lined up in formation. Fry had asked him to take a team of their best for this job. He wanted it to run like clockwork. If all went to plan these men would then be assigned their own squads. They would move fast, they would move hard, and Loch Uig would flourish. Nobody had ever put this much faith in TJ before, and he was not going to disappoint.

  He got out of the minibus and walked round to stand in front of the men. He spoke in little more than a whisper. “You’ve all been given your briefs. None of the women are harmed unless absolutely necessary. You see the hotel owner, you take him down on sight. He has access to firearms, and I am not going back to Fry and telling him we sustained casualties.” He turned to one of the men to his left. “Letts, get that door open.”

  Letts ran up to the large double doors of the forty-room hotel. He pulled a pouch out of his pocket and started picking the locks. Within a minute, the door was open and he stood back, waving the other men inside. They marched in, in single file, virtually silent. The hotel was on three floors, but Mckeith had gleaned that they all lived on the ground floor now there were never going to be any guests gracing the residence again. Inside it was virtually black. The moonlight was hidden behind thick curtains and all the men switched on their night vision goggles.

  When the government had brought in conscription, they thought it would be the answer to a lot of the country’s problems; in fact, it was the cause of many more. A black market in weapons and equipment had blossomed and those with money were able to buy the very best Her Majesty’s forces had to offer. Then when the order went out to fall back to the capital to put up a last stand against the raging hordes of the undead, barracks were left abandoned as men and women rushed back to their families, leaving surplus just ripe for the picking. Now, Fry and the Don had their own private, well-equipped army to do their bidding. The strong would thrive, the weak would fall; nothing had changed. In that respect, it was life as usual.

  It was deathly silent as they crept along the hallway. Mckeith had estimated there were twelve there in all. The man and wife who owned the place, the head chef, a male, and nine women who worked in the kitchen, the rooms, the garden and the rest of the place. Mckeith had told TJ of his suspicions that the owner had a fondness for having young women in his employ, and he would be unlikely to give it all up without a fight.

  The twelve men came to a stop outside the first six doors, two for each room. “Now!” TJ said, and the doors were immediately booted open, sending deafening echoes down the hall, now accompanied by frantic high-pitched screams as the room’s occupants were dragged from their dream state into an icy cold reality.

  TJ covered the doorway while Letts ran to the bed. The crying girl, her eyes wide open, could only make out silhouettes in the moonlight that bled through the lace curtains. She screamed continually in a foreign language.

  “Give me your hands! Give me your hands!” yelled Letts, as similar shouts resounded from the other rooms. “I said give me your hands, bitch,” this time, he unleashed a slap on the girl, who could have been little more than eighteen.

  “Jesus, Letts, can’t you see she doesn’t understand you?”

  Letts looked towards TJ, then back down at the young woman who was sat bolt upright in bed, shaking, screaming and crying all at the same time. He pulled cable ties out of his pocket attaching one, then a second around her wrists before dragging her off the bed. As he pushed her towards the door, a shot boomed and a woman’s scream, louder than any of the other’s, cut through the darkness.

  “Take care of her,” ordered TJ, as he barged through the doorway and down the hall in search of the screamer.

  “Nooo! Marcus…Marcus!” screamed the woman.

  TJ saw two of his men frozen in the entrance to one of the rooms. The smell of cordite got stronger as he approached. He finally joined them, and the three men watched as an overweight, middle-aged woman cradled the corpse of her husband.

  “I’ll get the ties on her,” one of the men said.

  TJ raised his rifle and shot the woman. Her screams stopped immediately as her body flopped down over that of her dead husband. “No need,” TJ said, heading back to join Letts.

  “I thought we were meant to take all the women back,” said one of the men.

  “You know what the women are used for. She didn’t look like she’d performed any manual labour in a long time, and do you honestly think we’d get thanked for taking her back for the Fun House?” TJ replied.

  The village hall in Loch Uig had been commandeered by the raiders. It went by a number of names, the “Fun House” being one of the nicer ones. Ultimately, it was a hellish place for the women who were imprisoned there, and the number of captives was growing all the time.

  “Please, no…I can cook!” shouted the spindly man in pyjamas as he was dragged out of his room. It was hard to judge in the green hue of the night vision goggles, but as he was thrown down in front of TJ, the figure with his hands clasped together, pleading, praying, looked Mediterranean.

  “Where are you from?” TJ demanded.

  “Milan. I am from Milan.”

  “You’re the chef, then?”

  “Sì. I am Umberto.”

  “Let me get this straight. We’ve just killed your boss and his wife, and you’re pleading with us for your life, offering to come and cook for us?” TJ laughed and the men around him laughed too, while terrified crying and screaming continued in the background.

  “I don’t want to die, signore.”

  TJ laughed again, “So Burt, you a good cook?”

/>   “It is Umberto, signore.”

  “It’s Burt if I say it’s Burt,” TJ said, taking the chef’s chin in a clamp like grip.

  “Sì, signore. I am a good chef, signore,” he said, looking in the vague direction of where he thought TJ’s eyes might be.

  “Well, I do love a good pizza. Tie his hands up, put him in the bus. He gives you any trouble, kill him.”

  The operation went exactly to plan. The group rounded up ten prisoners who would be assigned places when they got back to Loch Uig. Some would head straight to the Fun House, some would work in the hotel and perform whatever tasks they were required to do there. Umberto would be given a trial. A coward like that was unlikely to try anything as crass as poisoning the food, but a watchful eye would be kept on him until he had proved himself.

  TJ walked back out to the front of the hotel and pulled a torch out of his pocket. Dawn was not that far away, but for the time being, the torch signal was plain to see for all the drivers, as the lorries’ engines fired up. They pulled into the car park one by one, each turning round so the booty could be more easily loaded.

  A driver climbed out of the one of the trucks and jumped down. “What’s first, boss?” he asked as he walked up to TJ.

  TJ pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Food, booze, three generators. Fry wants the beds, the mattresses, cutlery…gut the place. Grab anything that isn’t nailed down.”

  “Okay boss,” the man said. He clapped his hands and opened the back of the lorry. A dozen men climbed out, each turned on a head torch and they got to work.

  Letts walked across to join TJ. “So we’re in the removals business now?” Letts said.

  TJ sniggered, “You could say that.”

  “Lot of work.”

  “This is just the start. Mckeith found all sorts of stuff. We’re going to be kept very busy for the foreseeable future anyway.”

  “What’s the big rush?”

  “It’s what Fry wants.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “I’ve worked with Fry long enough to know I should never ask questions. I just do what I’m told. C’mon, let’s get this shit loaded up and we can get back home.”