As the World Ends PART 5

by North, Geoff

  Angela nodded. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about the past.”

  “That’s about all any of us have to do these days... Aaah! There you are.” She closed the trunk and opened a pack of cigarettes. “Gave this up months ago, but I didn’t have the guts to throw out these last few.” She removed a tiny disposable lighter from one side of the package and lit up. She exhaled a cloud of blue smoke and leaned against her car. “Whoa. That first drag after so long hits you like a ton of bricks.”

  “So you’re going to start smoking again?”

  “Why not? I’m sure there’s still plenty of cartons left to smoke, and I’m sure as hell not worried about my health anymore.”

  “Well you shouldn’t let the kids catch you doing it.”

  The women watched the children scramble up the gravel. They would only get so far along the forty-five degree angle, and they would slide back down. Michael made it all the way to the top on his third attempt. He set a small wave of the loose stones free with his shoe, and watched as it met his sister. Amanda plopped onto her butt and rode the wave back down to the bottom. Nicholas was contentedly sitting ten feet from the ground, tossing pebbles into the air and laughing at the other two.

  Caitlan crushed the half-smoked cigarette into the dirt. “It’s getting cold. Let’s build a small fire before it’s too dark.”

  There was dead brush and brown grass hanging out from the soil along some of the pit wall. They gathered a few armloads and deposited it into a pile not far from the car. The grass was dry, and the small branches lit quickly. The children left their loose-stone pyramid and joined the women seated around the fire.

  “Now I really want a hotdog,” Nicholas said.

  Amanda moaned. “And marshmallows. It isn’t a real camp fire unless you have marshmallows to roast.”

  Caitlan smiled at Angela, and Angela smiled back. The world had turned dark and ugly, and moments like this—moments when children could laugh, and play, and imagine—had become a rare thing.

  The moment was about to end.

  ***

  Hayden had taken the car off the highway two miles from town and driven through a field to the west end. He waited until most of the color had vanished from the sky, and then set off into Brayburne on foot. There were half a dozen controlled fires along the perimeter that he could see. He headed for the largest—the one directly behind the closest green tent.

  Last tent on the west end of Main Street. Where all the new recruits stay.

  There were a dozen of them seated or standing around the steel barrel fire. None of them gave him a second look as he stood amongst them and warmed his hands. I’m just another soldier none of them have had time to meet. The kid that had given them directions to the supply tent—the skinny fucker that liked pissing on burning debris—was directly across from him. Hayden lowered his face a little. To Hayden’s right—three volunteer army assholes away—was the biggest asshole of them all. He hadn’t been wearing a shirt the day he’d driven a tank into MacDonald’s farm, and he wasn’t wearing one now. The kid was maybe twenty years old, and he was built like a brick shit house. He wasn’t impressing the girls with those massive pectorals and six-pack abs anymore, Hayden thought. But then again, maybe he wasn’t trying to attract women. Perhaps it was a show of dominance—a warning to all the other post-Apocalyptic jerk-off macho wannabes. He was still wearing the shades as well, even though it was almost completely dark.

  Not all the men gathered there were responsible for Trixie’s death. Perhaps the two Hayden had recognized were the only members of that horse-murdering squad standing around the fire. Hayden didn’t care. He would take down all of them if it came to that—so long as he got his hands around the shirtless wonder’s throat.

  I’m going to kill that fucker.

  “Hey! When did you sign up?” The skinny kid was staring at Hayden. “And how the fuck does a guy that wandered into town less than eight hours ago get promoted ahead of the rest of us?”

  Hayden had been openly glaring at the one in sunglasses too long. He thought about his son one last time, and prayed he would be safe with the women he’d left him with. He kicked out, spilling the barrel’s burning contents over the kid that had recognized him. The front of his pants and the chest of his olive-green tee-shirt were covered in sparking embers. He howled and stumbled back, smacking stupidly at his clothes with his bare palms instead of diving into the dirt all around him.

  Hayden pushed the first soldier to his right away, and lunged at the kid without a shirt. He slammed his forearm into the big chest, and both men fell to the ground in a tangle. He was almost half Hayden’s age, and within seconds he wrestled himself on top of the older man.

  He’s younger than me. He’s faster than me. The kid punched him, and Hayden felt his nose break for a second time that week. He might even be stronger than me. He saw the next hit coming in through a layer of stars. Hayden moved his head to the left, and the fist connected with his cheek bone and scraped off his ear. But I’m madder... By God, I’m a whole lot fucking madder.

  He blocked the third swing with his arm, and bit the kid’s knuckle. He tasted blood in his mouth, some of it his own, some of it not. He bit down harder and the kid screamed. Hayden punched him in the chest, forcing him back. He pulled a leg up and wrapped it around his throat. He pushed the leg back down, pounding the young man’s head into the ground at the same time.

  Hayden was on top now, and he wasn’t going down again. He hammered the sunglasses, shattering hard plastic into both eyes. He broke the kid’s nose, he shattered his jaw, and he emptied his mouth of most of its teeth. He was still swinging wildly as the others dragged him off.

  “Easy, guy,” one of them said. “He’s done. What the fuck did he do to you?”

  “My horse,” Hayden gasped. “He killed my horse.”

  Some of the other men gathered around the spilled remains of the fire looked at one another.

  “Yeah,” Hayden shouted. “You’re the ones that did it! Useless cowards. I’ll kill you all.”

  “You’re not gonna get the chance.” The kid that had been sprayed with embers walked out of the smoke towards Hayden. A pistol was gripped in his hand. “I’m gonna fill you with fucking holes, just like we did to your horse... you crazy bastard.”

  The other men held Hayden’s arms as the kid stepped in and rested the gun’s end between his eyes. There was a blinding flash of white light, and the gun fell away. Hayden felt the arms restraining him let go. The light started to fade and Hayden looked to the east.

  A mushroom cloud sprouted on the horizon, It billowed upwards, pushing the night sky away in a brilliant display of orange and red.

  Caitlan had said it was beautiful. How could she have thought that? It’s an abomination.

  A second flash of white followed, and a second mushroom cloud was born next to the first one.

  “No,” Someone said. “Not again.”

  By the time the third bomb hit a minute later, no one had seen Hayden slip away.

  ***

  “This is it,” Caitlan said as the second white glow that had burst above their heads and lit the entirety of the gravel pit started to fade away. “They dropped more bombs.” She scrambled away from the fire and climbed up a steep grade of loose shale and crumbling dirt.

  Angela shouted at the children to stay below. She started after Caitlan, and moments later all three children followed. Michael and Amanda helped Nicholas up the last bit, and they joined the women on top, sitting at the quarry’s edge, staring east at the monstrous columns of orange rising out of the earth.

  Nicholas leaned against Caitlan’s back and rested his small arms on her shoulders. “What is that?”

  “Round two,” she replied sadly.

  Another blast of white light forced them to cover their eyes. Angela looked again first and saw a third cloud join the others. “My God... why?”

  “Because some of us are still living,” Amanda answered. “They won’t stop do
ing it until we’re all dead.”

  Michael shook his head. “Then why aren’t they dropping them all over the place? Why are they just exploding in the east?”

  The twins were both right, Caitlan supposed, but Michael’s questions troubled her even more. “We’re a hundred miles from what was left of Winnipeg. Those nukes are atomizing anything and everything left... Why?”

  A fourth white flash lit the sky, and a fourth mushroom cloud was born.

  Nicholas whimpered into Caitlan’s ear. “I want my Daddy.”

  ***

  “Mother... Fucker!” Roy exclaimed as the mushroom cloud rose above them. The sky surrounding the immense yellow tower glowed red. Seconds later an explosive crack ripped through the air. It almost knocked the big man to his knees. Louie was already on his knees somewhere behind him, crying into the dirt of the field they were crossing.

  There was a second flash of light—a second detonation. It made another awful sound deep inside Roy’s brain, like a single string on a base guitar being plucked too hard. A horrible, reverberating twang.

  A wall of dust and smoke was charging their way. “We’re going to die,” Louie blubbered.

  Roy figured they were less than thirty miles from the city’s perimeter. The bombs were big, but he figured they still might have a chance. He grabbed his companion and dragged him to a low spot in the field. “Lay on your gut, and keep your face planted in the ground.”

  The first shockwave hit. They were blasted with small bits of debris and dirt. The second wave rolled over them, hot and screaming. It too passed, leaving the men breathless, but relatively unscathed. They sat up and stared at one another.

  Roy picked a clump of soil from his nostril. “Why? Why the hell are they hitting Winnipeg again?”

  “The ticks,” Louie wailed. “This isn’t about the war, it isn’t country versus fucking country anymore! They know what’s been unleashed. They know about LDV3!”

  He was going to say more, but a third bomb dropped. And then a forth. And then a fifth.

  ***

  “Look at it, Sergeant... just look at it.”

  Fartel couldn’t recall the last time any of the other soldiers had addressed him by rank without the slightest hint of condescension. Perhaps they never had.

  They stared in awe, side by side, as the six mushrooms continued their ascent into the dark heavens. The first three weren’t as defined; the following blasts had knocked them askew, like massive trees in a forest, dying, and making way for new arrivals.

  “It is a forest,” Fartel spoke his thoughts aloud. “A cancerous grove of power, light, and death.”

  “Huh? When did you become a poet?”

  Fartel looked at the man wearing only underwear and socks. “I wouldn’t say I was being poetic, but you have to admit a sight like that can leave you kind of... inspired.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Fred pointed to the south. “I do know those missile contrails originated from that direction. It wasn’t the Russians or North Koreans this time. Why would our own allies attack us? Why would they waste half a dozen nukes on Winnipeg?”

  The sergeant shrugged. “No idea.”

  A dozen black dots appeared at the center of the cloud closest to them. They grew in size and developed wings. “Look there,” Fartel said. “Birds!”

  Fred had to block away the majority of yellow clouds with the palms of his hands, it was still that bright, but he saw the crows flying in a few seconds later. They swooped down and started circling the men less than twenty feet overhead. The birds didn’t caw. The only sound they made came from the flapping of their black wings. “That is fucking weird.”

  Their flight paths were erratic, flying right side up and upside down. They crashed into one another, and feathers spun lazily down to the ground. One of the birds stopped flapping its wings all together and plummeted like a rock. It thumped onto the pavement at Fred’s feet.

  He squatted down for a closer look. “It’s dead.” He poked at it with his finger. “Look how fat the thing is.”

  “Don’t touch it. The things could be irradiated.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Fred picked it up in one hand. “It’s as heavy as a brick.” He threw it down suddenly and jumped back up. He shook his hand frantically.

  “What is it? Did it peck you?”

  “No! I said it was dead... Goddamn, that hurts!” He wiped his fingers along the only part of cloth available—the front of his underwear. Fartel thought he saw something gray disappear into the seams, but it was hard to tell with all the jumping and screaming.

  Fred clutched at his crotch with both hands. “No! No! No! It Stings! Oh God, it hurts so bad!”

  Another crow thumped down into the ditch. A third one fell next to Sergeant Jeffrey and erupted a gush of black across the highway. He backed away from it and instinctively covered his mouth and nose. Something in the air was killing these crows, and it had infected Fred Walleyes. Fartel wasn’t going to let any of the dying birds near him. The rest dropped down, like fat, black raindrops. He danced between the corpses, stepping around puddles of moving grey innards.

  Fred was on his back now, convulsing and twitching on the ground. A mound was growing in his underwear, pressing up and out to the sides. “Fred?” Fartel asked quietly. “Fred, are you getting a hard-on?”

  There was a popping sound and the bulge started to deflate. Fred’s white underwear turned dark red. Slime leaked out and settled on the ground in a puddle under the dead man’s buttocks. It began to spread out and move towards Fartel. The sergeant backed away. He stepped on one of the crows and it exploded under his heel. He made it three more steps before falling on his ass.

  Fred was rising up.

  He isn’t dead. He’s just sick... Really, really sick.

  He was on the sergeant seconds later. Fartel was too stunned and horrified to fight back. Fred’s skin was grey and moving. Veins were bulging across his stomach, chest, throat, and face. He raked his finger nails down Jeffrey’s ribcage and the sergeant cried out. Fred went in and bit his tongue out.

  Fartel stopped struggling moments later. A dozen puddles of grey swarmed over his body and began entering the inside of him. Fred took a hold of Fartel’s lower jaw and ripped it away from the rest of his face. He stuck his lips against the opening it left and sucked the gushing blood as it rushed out.

  Fartel came back to life thirty seconds later. He pushed Fred away and stood back up. They were standing side by side once again, but the dying mushroom clouds at their backs no longer held their interest. They lurched westward.

  Somewhere in the back of brains they no longer possessed were memories. The ticks clustered there and fed on the stored information. There was food that way. Fresh hosts.

  Thousands of them.

  End of Part 5

  Thank you for reading this installment of As the World Ends.

  You can find more of my stories and books at www.geoffnorth.com

  Other novels

  Live it Again

  Children of Extinction

  Last Playground