The Apocalypse Seven

by Gene Doucette

  “What is it you don’t understand?” she asked.

  He chose a pace that was just short of a jog.

  “The clock in my head shouldn’t have been this off,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been known to oversleep after drinking, but not past noon. I’ve never slept past noon, not once. I’m the guy who wakes up before the alarm during the week, and at the same time without the alarm on the weekend. My mental clock’s all messed up.”

  There was a new barrage of wolf howls coming from behind them. It sounded like a call-and-response, as if they were talking to one another. It remained quite distant, but spurred Robbie to up their pace nonetheless.

  “Is there a tiger to our right?” Carol asked. Whatever was purring a moment earlier had begun to walk alongside them.

  “No,” he said. “Mountain lion, maybe.”

  “There are no mountains here.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a cat, and it’s big. I don’t think it wants to be our friend.”

  “Perhaps you should find a place to hide me, and then run ahead,” she said. “To protect yourself. You can come back in the morning.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Just then, there was a new almost-wolf howl, only louder, and in front of them.

  “Crap,” Robbie said.

  “What is it?”

  “Um. Carol, I don’t know how to . . . Is it all right if I picked you up?”

  “Do you think you’re strong enough to carry me?”

  “Fireman’s carry. I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”

  “If you feel that’s necessary . . .”

  “I do.”

  “Then do it.”

  He grabbed her cane with one hand, then wrapped his arm around her waist and dug his shoulder into her stomach, tilted and lifted. It wasn’t at all comfortable for her, and probably was no more so for him, largely because he didn’t seem to have broad enough shoulders to accomplish this maneuver. However, once he started running it became clear that this would be a faster approach, provided his strength held out.

  They weren’t heading down the road, however. She was having a tremendously difficult time keeping track of where anything was, but it seemed like he’d changed course. This was confirmed a few seconds later when she heard a gate open and close. Then he was putting her down again. He pulled both of them into a crouch.

  “What—”

  “Shhh,” he said. “Something’s coming.”

  She reached out and touched the metal bars of the gate he’d taken them through. Wrought iron, flecked paint—​cold and sturdy. She felt her way along the bars until she reached the hinge, and then the brick on the other side. It was a walled-in courtyard.

  There was an eruption of activity near the river. She heard birds take flight, the cat’s purr turn into an enraged roar, and the scampering of hundreds of little feet. There was the clip-clop of hooves on the pavement, as at least one deer successfully fled. Another was not so lucky.

  The sound of the deer dying was terrible. It emitted a grunt that turned into a shriek while its legs and feet clapped out of rhythm on the tarmac, a frightened tap dancer stuck in a closet.

  What was killing it made hardly any noise at all, which was perhaps the most frightening element of the whole horrible scenario. She heard jaws close on flesh, heavy breathing, and bass-tone growls of at least two, maybe three animals.

  They hunt in packs, she thought, but kill in silence.

  She found Robbie’s hand, and squeezed it tightly.

  “How many?” she whispered.

  “Three,” he said. “I think. Two of them came out of nowhere.”

  “What are they?”

  “It’s hard to see them; the sun’s gone down. Wolves, or close enough. Big ones.”

  “All the people are gone and the streets are overrun by packs of wolf-monsters. Is that what we’re saying now?”

  “Shhh.”

  He squeezed her hand tight, and she heard him stop breathing—​voluntarily; he was holding it. There was a slight rustle of movement from Robbie, and then his hand was on her shoulder and he was gently pushing her backwards.

  Then she understood why.

  There was a noise Burton used to make when he sniffed an odor that displeased him in some way, a sharp exhale through his nose that sounded a little like humph.

  She heard that same sound, just as Robbie was making an effort to move her away from the fence. She felt the hot breath of the animal on her free hand.

  There was a wolf on the other side of the gate.

  She wrapped an arm around Robbie’s neck and put her lips up to his ear.

  “Can it jump over?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  The beast dug at the ground, sniffed the air some more, and paced along the fence.

  It felt large. Carol’s interaction with the world didn’t include sight, but her other senses were usually pretty good about assembling a loose approximation. Air displacement, perhaps, coupled with the smell of its breath and the sound of its heavy footfall, or the fur rubbing against the bars of the gate. The aggregation of what her other senses told her was that there was a massive hell-beast just a few feet away.

  The rational side of her brain—​which still had a voice, albeit a quiet one—​suggested perhaps her imagination was acting as an extra sense in this case.

  It’s just a large puppy, she thought. Think of it as just a large puppy.

  “Okay,” Robbie said, after they sat there, as still as possible, taking turns holding their breath, for about a hundred years. “I think it’s gone.”

  They were sitting on grass. The ground was cool and damp from a recent rain she couldn’t recall. Her pants might be muddy now, and she had no way to get to a change of clothing for possibly the remainder of her life. They were her good slacks, too. She couldn’t decide what was more frustrating: that she hadn’t chosen more sensible clothes for the end of the world, or that she cared.

  She heard Robbie get to his feet, so she held out her hand and let him pull her up as well. He handed back her cane.

  “Sorry about all that,” he said. “That was close.”

  “Don’t apologize. Thank you. Where are we?”

  “One of the Harvard buildings fronting the river. It has a walled-off yard. I went by this place during orientation, but the gate had an electronic lock. I took a chance that whatever killed the rest of the power around here also killed the lock. Good thing I was right, huh?”

  “Yes. I think we should stay here for the evening. Unless you think it’s safe to push forward.”

  “No, I can barely see my hand in front of my face right now, and those wolves are still out there,” he said. “There’s no moon tonight, and the stars aren’t doing much. Maybe you should be leading me.”

  There was more howling at the river, which could mean more wolf-monsters on their way, to share the kill. Carol wondered how long it would be before one of them tried to jump over the brick wall for fresh meat.

  Waiting for that to happen would be a horrible way to spend the night.

  “It’s a building courtyard,” she said. “Let’s see about getting into the building.”

  2

  The lock at the gate wasn’t the only thing to have been disabled by the power outage. All it took to get into the building was a twist of a knob.

  It was a musty place. That was Carol’s entire experience with it, initially.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Robbie said. “There’s no lighting in here. I can almost make out a table in the middle. I really can’t believe how dark it is without electricity. We’re going to have to find power or make a fire.”

  “I have a wall on my right,” she said. “Why don’t I make my way around in this direction and you go the other way, and we’ll work out together what kind of room this is?”

  “That hardly seems fair; I don’t have a cane.”

  She laughed.

  “You
’re right, that’s not fair at all.”

  She headed to the right, slowly, feeling her way around. The room sounded high-ceilinged, which automatically excluded a number of options: They weren’t in a classroom, or a dorm room, or a kitchen.

  The wood trim on the wall was finished, but covered in a thin layer of dust. She found a table against a wall, which was similarly covered in dust.

  There was a loud noise on the other side of the room that made her jump: a metallic clatter, and then a thud of someone falling over.

  “I’m okay,” Robbie said. “I tripped.”

  “What did you trip on?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see it, and I still don’t.”

  “Feel your way back to it—​that sounded interesting.”

  “Okay.”

  He shuffled around on the floor for a few seconds.

  “Nope, not interesting,” he said. “It’s a freestanding light. I’m surprised I didn’t knock it over. How are you doing over there?”

  “I’m wondering if this building was in use. There’s so much dust.”

  “That’s what I thought about the dorm,” he said. “Maybe Harvard’s just dusty. It’s old enough.”

  She came upon a glass display case. It was shaped like a dome, covering something she would have needed eyesight to discern.

  “I think we’re in a museum,” she said.

  “What do you have?”

  “A case. I think I’d have to break it to find what’s inside.”

  “Oh, I bet we’re in one of the common rooms. Whoops.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Yep, common room. I found a couch.”

  He coughed.

  “You’re right, there’s a lot of dust,” he said. “What are we looking for?”

  “I don’t actually know,” she said. “Something useful.”

  “Yes, but like what?”

  She sighed.

  “Robbie, we have such a long list of needs, almost anything would qualify. Food, water, shelter, communication with the outside world, a rational explanation for all of this . . .”

  “A toilet.”

  “Yes, a toilet, and a shower, and a change of clothes, and my dog.”

  “I can get you a wolf.”

  She didn’t answer that.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was insensitive; it’s been a really long day, and it feels like it’s only supposed to be half over.”

  “It’s okay. Yes, we slept in, didn’t we?” She felt along the edge of the glass for a latch or a hinge, but if there was one, she was checking the wrong place for it. “When I mentioned this case,” she said, “why did that make you think we were in a common room?”

  “On my tour, I saw a couple of the nicer dorms. They had stuff under glass in some of the common areas. I think they were just showing off. I figured they took it all back to the museum, or wherever they came from, during the year, but maybe not. I bet there’s a pool table around here somewhere.”

  “Do you think this dorm has a cafeteria?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. You want to stumble around in the dark where there are knives? Maybe we should wait until morning.”

  “Water. Food.”

  “Yes. Right. Water and food. Sorry. You know, I keep expecting to wake up from all of this. Like maybe I can force it if I just lie down right here. Tomorrow will be a nice normal day, and I can go for a bagel and a coffee and forget this ever happened.”

  “In the morning, you’ll just be more dehydrated,” she said. “Which will make it even more difficult to function.”

  “Ah, but in the morning, I will be gifted with the power of sight.”

  “And I will not.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  She found her way to the couch and sat down next to him. A puff of dust signaled her arrival.

  “It was a joke,” he said.

  “Yes, I didn’t take it personally. I’m just not feeling amused right now. What if you aren’t here in the morning? I would like to know my way around enough to locate water. We can survive for days without food, but not water.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be here in the morning? Of course I’ll be here.”

  “Burton wasn’t,” she said. “Please, Robbie.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He stood up. She reached out and found the hand he was offering.

  “I’m not tired yet anyway,” he said. “Let’s go break some shins and find some water.”

  3

  If the building had a full cafeteria, they never found it. What they did find, after about an hour of searching, was a public restroom.

  There were two, but only one had running water. It tasted clean enough to drink, which was miraculous. The toilets flushed too. It was the first sign that the infrastructure collapse they’d spent the whole day witnessing wasn’t actually complete and total.

  They didn’t find any food, which their bodies started craving just as soon as they got some water down. But between them they had one and three quarters candy bars from Touré’s haul, and that would have to do until morning.

  “Protein,” Carol said. “We are going to need a long-term source for protein.”

  “Think we should learn how to hunt?” Robbie asked between bites of his seven-eighths of a candy bar.

  “Barring other viable options, yes.”

  He laughed. “That’s why I suggested the supermarket earlier. I know the pharmacy was stripped down, but there’s got to be a meat locker or something. It can’t all be gone.”

  “There’s no power for this proposed meat locker.”

  “Yeah, one problem at a time,” Robbie said. “I’m saying we don’t need to go full native right off the bat, here. Not sure any of us is equipped with the know-how to assemble a bow and arrow, or whatever, but we don’t have to be. We’ll figure out where everyone went and work this out.”

  The functional bathroom was on a corridor off of the common room. On the other end of that corridor they discovered a private office with a couch and an easy chair, along with a desk/chair combo. It came with a nonfunctioning telephone and a nonfunctioning laptop. Robbie was clearly sobered by the laptop, as it represented his lack of access to the outside world. Carol was more struck by the lack of dial tone on the telephone.

  Once Robbie discovered two blankets neatly folded underneath the couch, the decision to spend the evening in this office was obvious: It was warmer than the common room, had only one door and two windows—​thus was easily defensible—​and it could be paced from end to end in the dark without any surprises. It was also twenty steps from the nearest toilet and fresh water source.

  It was no Ritz-Carlton, but in a city without power, neither was the Ritz-Carlton.

  4

  They talked for a little while, to sift through the unbelievable occurrences of the day and to get to know one another slightly better. Carol appreciated how normal that felt, going through the details of her life and Robbie’s in a time before the world ended (or whatever it was that had happened).

  Robbie had a younger sister about whom he was reasonably optimistic. Likewise, his parents. He didn’t have to say this out loud, as it was obvious: He thought they were all still alive. It was clear in the stories he told, which were fond, and funny, and not tinged with the kind of sadness one was accustomed to during eulogies and the like.

  Carol was an only child. Her parents lived in Miami. She felt comfortable referring to them in the past tense, even though applying the same geographical assumptions as Robbie meant they were far more likely to be alive than anyone in his family. Losing Burton had pushed her in the direction of worst-case scenarios already.

  Robbie eventually dozed off. She thought she probably did too, but only for a little while. Her bladder was what woke her. Having gone the day without water, she had drunk her fill and now she was paying for it. But this was why she mapped out the location of the restroom in relation to the couch.

  She made it to the t
oilet okay, performed the task without incident, washed her hands, and then cupped some water from the tap into her now-clean hands and drank.

  It was when she returned to the hallway that she heard the noise. It was coming from her left, the opposite direction of the office, where Robbie slept.

  It was the same kind of clatter she’d heard when Robbie had tripped on the light stanchion. She nearly called out just then, thinking it was him—​thinking he must have gotten up during her brief visit to the bathroom, walked down the hall, and committed the same error he had a few hours prior. But she’d left the door open to the office, and she could hear his breathing from where she stood.

  Someone else was there.

  She walked to the edge of the common room and listened. Unless she’d slept to sunrise, it was unlikely anyone lurking about would have any better luck seeing their way around than Robbie had—​so provided she made only a little noise, whoever it was wouldn’t even know she was there.

  She picked up the sounds of breathing, at her one o’clock. If her orientation was correct, the door through which she and Robbie came in earlier was at her nine. She held up her left hand and felt for . . . yes: a breeze. The door was ajar now, and they hadn’t left it that way. Whoever’d joined them had come from the outside and not from another part of the building.

  “Hello?” she said, quietly.

  No answer.

  “My name is Carol. Do you need help? Are you injured?”

  She realized the enormity of her error in two ways, almost simultaneously. First, there was the smell. Either the breeze in the room shifted or the creature moved and kicked up some dander—​it hardly mattered.

  Wet dog. That was the smell.

  Second, there was the low growl.

  One of the wolf-monsters was in the common room.

  I should run, she thought. It was a good thought that nonetheless wasn’t communicated to her legs.

  She heard sniffling, then more growling. Its vision was clearly better than Robbie’s, as it seemed capable of moving about the room almost silently.

  It’s just a dog, she thought. Just a big dog.

  She got down on one knee and slowly lowered her cane to the floor. She held out her hand.