After The End

by Jamie Campbell

  I’m lost for words and Garlind hesitates too. In trying to protect Rhys and Sarah, all we’ve done is make them angry. We were really trying to do the right thing. It wasn’t anything about our egos or claiming glory. It was about making sure the body count didn’t get higher.

  Trying to convince the pair of this seems impossible.

  “We love you guys,” I say. “We didn’t want to split up but it seemed like the safest thing right now. I’m sorry if we’ve offended you but I swear we only had the best of intentions at heart.”

  I look pitifully at Sarah but she doesn’t budge. There is nothing she hates more than being considered just a kid. Being only eight years old means she has eight years of experience, in her opinion. She forgets that we’ve had more than double that on this earth. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s best for her.

  Rhys responds. “We’re all going together or none of us are leaving here. You need to promise us right now that you’re not going to sneak off. Both of you.” He waggles a finger between Garlind and myself.

  I exchange a glance with my co-conspirator to gauge his thoughts. His face is as impassive as ever. I sigh. “I promise. We’ll all go together. Just like we’ve always done.”

  We all look at Garlind for his assent. He looks like he’s internally fighting a war inside his head. I’ve never seen so many wrinkles on his normally-smooth forehead before. “Fine. I promise too.”

  Rhys nods and curls his pointing finger back into his fist. “Good. You better stay true to your word. Otherwise we’re going to follow you to Washington and kick your asses.”

  “Yeah, your asses,” Sarah adds.

  I hope they haven’t just signed their death warrants.

  Chapter 15

  We don’t really talk for the rest of the day. Sarah and Rhys remain furious and suspicious of every one of our actions. Garlind and I spend the afternoon in the garden. I keep an eye on the clouds and look for any signs of the rain starting to sprinkle.

  Garlind winces as he reaches for a window shutter. We’re closing them all so the house will have some more protection when we leave. It seems like the right thing to do.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. He takes a few deep breaths as he clutches his side.

  He stands up straight again. “Yeah, it’ s nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  I know when he’s lying and right now his pants may as well be on fire. I get up off the stoop stairs and head directly for him. I pull up his shirt to expose his right side. There is a cut carved into his waist about three inches long.

  “What happened?” I ask, worried and mad at the same time. The wound is red and angry. He should have dealt with it ages ago to reduce the risk of infection.

  He pauses for a moment before he decides to tell me the truth. “Philip’s henchman thought I needed some extra persuasion to talk. It’s nothing but a small cut.”

  Now I am angry because you can’t just ignore something like this. That’s how people die from the smallest of injuries. “Have you seen it? It’s already infected and it could be poisoning your blood. You should have had something on it this whole time.”

  “We don’t have anything to put on it. They took our backpacks, remember?”

  “I found some stuff in the bathroom cabinets yesterday. There was a cream there. And plasters. It might be too late, but they could help. Come on.”

  He stands there stubbornly refusing to move. “It’s just a little cut.”

  “First off: a cut that is three inches long isn’t little. Second: it only takes a tiny break of the skin to allow an infection into your entire body. Thirdly: I’m really mad at you for keeping this a secret so you better do as I say right now.”

  I think my message sinks in. “Okay, okay. Do whatever you want to do, Nurse Maisy Rayne.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender and probably thinks he’s being charming or funny. It melts me a little bit but that’s all. I’m still angry at him for not taking this seriously. In this world, you have to remain vigilant or you die. It’s that simple.

  The kitchen is the sunniest place inside so I tell Garlind to sit at the table and take off his shirt. He raises an eyebrow, trying to be cute, but I scowl in return. He takes his shirt off and sits silently.

  I don’t have any gauze so I tear a strip off the cleanest sheet I can find in the linen closet and fold it over a few times until I have a sizeable wad of fabric. It will be enough to cover his cut and keep the plasters from sticking to any of the wound.

  The cream I found is supposed to be some kind of antibiotic lotion for eye infections. According to the label it should be applied twice a day until the infection clears. Hopefully eyes and skin heal the same way.

  I smear on the cream as Garlind hisses from the contact. The cream is cold against his skin and his wound is probably very sensitive—not a good combination. Maybe the stab of pain will remind him to deal with these things as they happen and not let them fester until they are really bad.

  His bare skin is distracting. His brown skin covers muscles that only a lot of physical exertion can sculpt. Besides the cut, he doesn’t have any blemishes. It’s all hard abs and beautifully naked skin. My cheeks flush with warmth as I try to think of anything else except how close we are right now.

  With his shirt off.

  My hands on his skin.

  His breath tickling my cheek as I concentrate.

  Our close proximity.

  I need to focus on the task at hand.

  Lastly, I lay the fabric wad over the cut and secure it with a few sticking plasters. It’s not a pretty job but it should do the trick. I couldn’t stand Garlind falling to an illness because of this.

  I feel like telling him he should keep his shirt off for a while longer so the wound can breathe. But I’m sure he’d see right through it and everyone would know what was actually on my mind.

  “You should take it easy for the rest of the day,” I instruct. No mention of what he should or shouldn’t do with his shirt—good job, Maisy.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” he replies. He stands and slips his shirt back on over his head. I have a few seconds of admiring his muscles before they are covered.

  He does something strange to my blood flow, making it speed up and forces my heart to pound faster and deeper. I wonder if he realizes it at all.

  If I was brave enough, I’d tell him. But I’m not that brave. We have more important things going on than my feelings. And if he rejected me…I don’t think I could bear to be around him.

  Focus is the watchword.

  We take turns on watch all night again. As usual, I’m the first and nothing happens during my three hour watch. I wake Rhys and go to sleep.

  At first light, we head off. There is no more time to rest, we have to get to Washington and prove Philip wrong. He may have thought we were on a fool’s errand but we don’t care. This is something we have to do and just hope it pays off.

  In the very least, we’ll be closer to the ocean again. I still remember the absolute pleasure I got from seeing the beach in Charleston and want to do it again. I want to see every beach in the world and feel the sand between my toes. Maybe one day I’ll be able to see the beach where my parents were married.

  A very long walk leads us to the town of Franklinton, North Carolina. I can’t wait to leave this state. So far, it only holds bad memories for me. The sooner we reach Virginia, the better. Hopefully Washington DC will work out better for us all.

  The first thing I notice about Franklinton are the houses. They are massive and so, so beautiful. I want to explore every single one of them so see what kind of luxury the people used to live in here. I think if I had one of these mansions, not even a meteorite would have evicted me. I would have gone down with the ship until the very end.

  We still need supplies and whoever lived in these houses would have had plenty of money to buy the essentials. We split up and c
hoose four houses in a row to break into and scavenge.

  My house is made of two levels and has a huge front door. It’s slightly ajar when I reach it. That could mean it’s been trashed and is a lost cause. I remain positive and hope it was just an irresponsible owner instead.

  The entranceway is a huge area that goes right up to the roof. Two sweeping staircases on either side lead up to the second floor. A fancy steel balustrade leads the way with ornate scrolls and patterns.

  I want to go upstairs but I need to check the kitchen for food first. Clothes are not as important as having something to eat. To my right and left are rooms that have a lounge suite, oil paintings, and televisions. Why did they need two room almost the same? My entire bunker would fit comfortably in each room with space around it.

  All the artworks and sculptures are distracting. I want to look at everything and run my hands over the smooth marble. There is a thick layer of dust and dirt over everything but it’s all largely as it would have been. Maybe it was too nice for any looters to ransack.

  A bookcase full to the brim of books is enticing but I can’t take any of them with me. They are too heavy and will use up space for things that can save our lives—like food and blankets. I’ll have to find some books to read once everything settles down and our mission is over.

  That seems like a long way off.

  In the kitchen, someone has already taken most of the edible food. A lot of moldy, soured jars and dry packets have been left. The smell is overwhelming as the rotting food festers. I find a few cans and hope they’ll be okay once opened.

  Upstairs has been gone through by someone already. Clothes are scattered over the floor of the bedrooms and drawers hang open. I find some underwear and a pair of jeans that will work. All the clothes are too big for Sarah but I find some male articles for the boys. At least we’ll be dressed, even if hungry.

  The last thing I do is raid the medicine cabinet in the bathrooms. The mansion has five of them in total. I’m meticulous in searching them for anything we can use. I prioritize the antibiotics and pain killers first and then take anything I’m unsure about if there’s room left.

  I meet up with the others after about an hour of searching. Garlind has managed to cover two houses in that time. The finds are largely the same—not much food but plenty of other supplies. We’ll have to find some restaurants and hope there is something left in the town.

  “If you’re going to leave me behind, I think this would be a good place,” Rhys jokes, gesturing to the biggest house on the block. When we don’t respond, he adds, “Too soon?”

  Reminding us of the argument we all had the previous day is definitely too soon. Sarah has only just begun to speak to us again.

  Garlind claps him on the back. “Yeah, too soon, buddy.”

  We all relax again after the moment of tension. I feel a stab of guilt every time I remember the looks on Rhys and Sarah’s face when they overheard our conversation. In hindsight, we should have ensured our privacy first.

  I feel the vibration of the earth underneath my feet before my ears hear it. Unfortunately, it’s a sound I can now identify without trouble.

  “Aliens are coming,” I say with a hint of panic in my voice.

  It takes my warning a moment to sink in. Garlind reacts first. “Inside the house. Down to the basement. Now!”

  We flee inside the nearest house and run as quickly as we can. This was Sarah’s house to explore so she takes the lead and guides us down to the basement.

  The underground room has a strip of windows against one side. Storage boxes are piled high all around the other walls. It seems the previous owners of this house didn’t like to throw things out. Instead, they kept all their unwanted items in plastic boxes. Boxes that are now so deteriorated that the piles skew to the side so much that their fall is inevitable.

  We crouch beside the windowed wall with our backs to the brick and concrete. The vibrations of the marching aliens shiver through the wall and down my spine. I can feel every one of their steps in my bones, right down to the ribcage.

  There has to be hundreds of them. I can picture them marching in complete unison like we’ve witnessed them do before. If the windows were open, we’d probably be able to smell their awful stench. I’m glad we can’t.

  Nobody dares to peek through the window. With the marching so strong, they have to be near. We can’t risk being seen and caught. I know I didn’t escape from Philip’s group only to be destroyed by the infernal beasts a couple of days later.

  When we hear the march, there is always a good chance the aliens will find us. Whether it’s been luck or skill that’s kept us alive this long, it’s difficult to tell. I’d like to think we have outsmarted them so far but that’s probably wishful thinking.

  The dead alien we saw filters through my mind. They can be killed. We know that. There is no reason why we can’t exploit their softest part and kill the aliens. That’s well and good to think about, but we can’t take on hundreds of them at one time. We’d be lucky to deal with more than one.

  This is what our world has come to—hiding and running. If not from aliens, then humans. The brevity of what we have to overcome to claim back our planet seems impossible right now. To win over the aliens the humans have to unite first. I wonder how we’ll get past this first step.

  But, then again, maybe we won’t even survive the short term. I hold Sarah’s hand as she stands beside me. She looks up and smiles, even though I know she had to be just as scared as I am. At least I’m with three other people that I trust completed and love even more.

  We can do this.

  Perhaps.

  We just need to get through this march and then we can keep going. We can get far away from these aliens and continue on our journey.

  The fear of hearing the marching rumbles through every fiber of my being. It’s so intense and profound that I’m not sure I can even breathe. I’m certain they can hear the blood as it pounds in my head. The breath as it whistles through my lungs.

  It will only take one of them to sense us and then it will be all over. I’ve seen the aftermath of what the aliens are capable of. I know they enjoy tearing humans apart, piece by piece. And the ones they don’t kill, they turn into mindless drones.

  I think death would be the preferred option.

  Nobody says a word as we stand there. I’m certain we’re all thinking the same thing. It’s impossible not to feel fear when it’s so tangibly close. We are only one slip up away from being captured and killed by the alien enemy.

  I have to remember to breathe.

  We escaped Philip’s group, we can escape this too. We only have to stay still and quiet in the basement and they will continue on past us. They’ll never know we were here.

  Time seems to standstill. Their marching seems endless. Maybe I was wrong and there are really thousands of them heading through the street. I wonder what the inside of their ship is and how many it can hold. Did they have to bring a few to carry this many of their numbers?

  I can’t take it any longer. I have to look.

  Letting go of Sarah’s hand, I spin around without making a sound. I face the wall and will myself to stand taller. They won’t notice the top of my head. Surely, they won’t notice that tiny little movement.

  Ever so slowly, I rise up. My forehead breaches the window and then my eyes. I can see out over the front yard of the mansion. It’s quite a distance before the street starts but there is no mistaking what I’m seeing.

  Aliens stand three-abreast as they march along the street, heading into the main part of town. Their faces are expressionless, their armor as foreboding as ever. They stare straight ahead as they hold their weapons. I could be watching a human military parade, the similarities are remarkable.

  It’s mesmerizing watching them. I wonder what they are thinking of, where they are going. What is their mission in Franklinton, North Carolina? What do they want here?

  My instincts tell me they are here to purge any hu
mans and take over the land as their own. Just like what we’ve seen in other places, they hope to eradicate the area of humans so they can have the run of the place.

  But is that all?

  Do they have families? Do they feel any remorse? What led them down to earth? Was it just the fact our planet was ripe for the taking, or do they need to be here for another reason?

  I’ll probably never know.

  Maybe they are just robots and have no feelings. Perhaps they are killing machines and only satisfied when they have conquered the entire planet—for no other reason except that they can.

  I barely blink as I watch them. From this vantage point, they don’t seem real. It’s like I’m watching something on the computer and they are in a different world to me.

  That is, until one looks my way.

  Chapter 16

  I duck down but the damage has been done. One of the aliens has seen me and it’s enough for him to break stride and leave the marching pack.

  “We need to run,” I say urgently. “They’re coming for us.”

  I’m across the room before I can finish speaking. The others all follow right behind me. I tear open the door and rush up the basement stairs, two at a time.

  “Sarah, where is the back door?” I shriek.

  “This way,” she replies, pointing.

  We run for our lives as fast as possible out the back door of the mansion. Once outside, we’re confronted by a sea of overgrown grass and choked dandelions.

  “Over the fence,” Garlind directs.

  I see what he’s quickly spotted a moment later—a gate. The grass is almost as tall as I am as we weave through it. I hold onto Sarah’s hand so she doesn’t get lost. She has to close her eyes to stop the grass whipping her in the eyeballs.

  There is no time to look behind us but I know the alien will be back there. Now we’re outside, I can smell them. The stinking aroma fills my nostrils and makes my stomach heave. I swallow and clamp by teeth together so I don’t lose the measly amount of food in my stomach.