In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel

by Edward M Wolfe

  Jim looked at Terry, not sure what to do next. He couldn’t believe what had happened in the last two minutes. He shook his head, thinking of a line by Charles Bukowski, “Humanity, you never had it.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on here” Terry said. “But I know one thing; Tori won’t help you again after what you just did. And you killed the only other person who might’ve been able to save your life.”

  “Why did you shoot him?” Jim asked Monica.

  “He beat me and raped me,” she answered so quietly they could barely hear her voice.

  “Oh. In that case...”

  Jim put his gun in his back pocket and grabbed Carl roughly and started forcing him toward the door.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Outside,” Jim replied.

  “What the hell for?”

  “So you can die cold and alone like you deserve. Plus you’re getting blood all over my nice clean floor, you piece of shit.”

  Terry ran over to the door and opened it. Jim shoved Carl through the doorway, slammed the door and locked it.

  Carl fell to the ground and stayed there for a minute, unable to move due to the pain in his stomach.

  They all thought he was going to die, but they were wrong. He’d survive this and he’d come back and kill every one of them. He was tougher than they thought. He already survived getting shot once. He’d do it again.

  He summoned his strength and stood up. It hurt less when he was standing, so he decided he’d be better off just walking away instead of driving. He slowly walked across the lot and turned right onto the road.

  He didn’t know where he was going to go or what he was going to do next. But he’d think of something. He just needed to find a nearby place to hole up while he recovered again.

  He held his right hand on his stomach and focused on taking one step after another. The more he walked, the less he felt the pain. He looked down and was pleasantly surprised to see that the bleeding from his stomach had already begun to slow.

  He started to laugh. He was actually going to be okay. Fuck that bitch, and all the rest of them too. He would definitely be coming back. Maybe he’d just set the place on fire and then shoot them as they came running out the front door.

  He reached the highway and had to make a decision about which way to go. As he tried to recall which way would get him to shelter the quickest, he heard the sound of an engine coming around a bend in the road.

  The timing was perfect. He could catch a ride. The Lord truly did provide to those in need. He saw a white Ford F350 come into view. He pulled his right hand away from his gunshot wound and put his left hand in its place. He waved his right arm at the truck and smiled when he saw it slow down and veer gradually to the side, pulling over for him.

  The bearded driver got out first and started walking quickly toward Carl. Then the other doors opened and three more men got out. One of them shouted, “Hold up a second! We gotta do this right. You can’t just go up and slit his throat on the side of the road.”

  Noah looked back over his shoulder and said, “Watch me.”

  Thirty

  Inside the cabin, everyone was calm and still as if they had been frozen in time. When Jim shut the door after escorting the crazy killer Carl out, everyone came back to life at once.

  "You can’t just let him go,” Monica cried out.

  Jim stared back at her in response. He was as freaked out as everyone else—but he kept it inside. Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking at Terry as he did so.

  “Let’s not worry about him for now. People in here need help,” Terry said.

  Terry turned around and looked first at Bo, who was taking shallow breaths, lying on the floor with his arm around his mother. Then he looked down the main hall. It was empty.

  One of their medics was dead and the other was wounded. Terry looked at Trey and Monica, hoping they could help somehow.

  “Do either of you know anything about first aid?”

  Trey and Monica quickly glanced at each other, then back at Terry, both of them shaking their heads. Terry turned to Jim with a lost and sorrowful apology in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do.

  “Someone go get Angela from the kitchen, along with some towels. Try to stop the bleeding. I’m gonna check on Tori,” Jim instructed.

  Trey rushed to the kitchen as Jim walked down the hall calling out to Tori so she wouldn’t be scared just hearing footsteps coming toward her.

  “Tori. It’s safe to come out now. Are you okay?” He heard her answer from the manager’s office where she had helped remove the bullet from Carl’s back only moments ago.

  “Are you sure he’s gone?”

  “I’m positive. He’s outside, either freezing to death or dying. Monica shot him.” He stopped at the doorway and looked in. Elizabeth was holding her mother and crying. Tori had her good arm around her daughter.

  “I think Liz is okay; just a little bruised, but I’ve been shot.”

  “I know. We need to do something about that. But we need you to tell us what to do.”

  Trey entered the kitchen and didn’t see anyone. He called out, “Angela? Are you in here?” She answered from inside the pantry.

  “Is it safe out there?”

  “Yes. Carl’s gone. He left with a gunshot wound that he won’t survive. But either way, the door is locked and it’s safe now.”

  The pantry door opened and Angela peeked out with one eye opened wide. Her pupil was enlarged and her skin was pale. She slowly opened the door enough to slip out, looking around and assuring herself that the kitchen was really safe.

  “Jim said we need to get some towels. Try to stop Bo’s bleeding. Do you know where some towels are?”

  Angela nodded, but didn’t say anything or move to help.

  “Where would that be?”

  Angela pointed down the short hall that ran behind the walk-in cooler.

  Trey approached her slowly and turned down the hall, looking in cabinets as he went. He found the towels and grabbed a stack, holding them between his hands like a vertical accordion.

  “Thank you,” he said, passing Angela as he headed back to the main room.

  Angela stayed where she was, watching his back as he walked away.

  Tori looked down at the wound in her arm for the first time, having only been concerned with consoling Liz until now. She lifted her arm up and peered at the underside.

  “It went through. I’ll be fine. I just need to stop the bleeding—and keep it from getting infected.”

  “Jim, you asked for towels? I gave some to Monica already.”

  Jim turned around and took the stack that Trey held out to him. He set them on a fax machine next to Tori, wondering why anyone still faxed. Or did, anyway. He imagined they’d have to resurrect the Pony Express now if what he’d heard on the radio was really happening.

  “I’m going to need help getting this shirt off. Can you ask Monica to come help me?”

  “She’s tryin’ to help Bo, and he don’t look so good.”

  “I’ll see if I can get Angela for you,” Jim said, and quickly walked out.

  “Liz, honey, I need you to stay with Uncle Trey for a bit. Maybe you guys can find some snacks in the kitchen.”

  Trey bent over to pick up Liz and she reluctantly but willingly let go of her mother, then wrapped her arms tightly around Trey.

  Jim entered the kitchen and saw Angela standing like a statue. Then her eyes shifted toward him and a spell was broken.

  “Jim!” Angela rushed toward him and hugged him fiercely. “Thank God you’re okay!” Then she suddenly released him and stepped back a few feet, examining him from head to toe. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

  “As one of the people who didn’t get shot, I’m great. How are you?”

  “I’m… I don’t know.” Angela came forward and resumed hugging him. Feeling safe, and relieved that Jim was okay, she held him and cried. “I was so scared.”

  “
It’s okay now. Everyone is going to be fine. Except for Bo. I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

  “Oh God,” she said, and squeezed him harder.

  Jim mentally chastised himself for doing a piss-poor job of comforting her. He instantly redirected his self-anger toward Carl, wanting to go find him and beat the shit out of him for terrifying Angela. He hoped the bastard was suffering right now.

  Jim spun around when he heard the door open behind him. Trey took one step into the kitchen and stopped, looking at the couple and feeling like he’d interrupted something private.

  “What’s up?” Jim asked.

  “Uh. My sister wants to know if you can help her,” Trey said, looking at Angela, then at Jim, as if seeking her assistance and his approval.

  “Oh yeah. I came in here to get you. Can you help Tori? She needs to stop the bleeding on a flesh wound and she wants to get out of her bloody shirt. And since she has boobs, she prefers help from someone else who has them too.” He shook his head in mock dismay.

  Angela was almost irritated at Jim and then realized that she was oddly comforted by him acting strange. It was like a small sign of things returning to normal. If Jim was being weird, then things had to be okay.

  Angela wiped her eyes and said, “Sure. I’ll help her. I don’t know how, but I’ll do whatever I can.” She kissed Jim and he noticed that her lips felt very hot even though her skin felt cool and looked pale. He wondered if they could recreate the effect with something less dangerous than a shootout.

  “I’ll see you in a bit,” Angela said, giving Jim another quick peck on the lips before exiting the kitchen.

  “How’s Bo lookin’?”

  Trey shook his head. “I don’t know shit about medical stuff, but I’d have to say he’s near the end. And Monica don’t know what to do for him. We really need Tori’s help.”

  “Yeah,” Jim said. “We’ll ask her to help him as soon as she has her own gunshot under control.”

  “Aw shit, I didn’t mean…”

  Jim held his hand up to stop Trey. He smiled and quoted a line from Monty Python in an English accent, “It’s just a flesh wound.” Trey laughed and felt like he shouldn’t be laughing. “Seriously though. She said she’ll be fine. As soon as she takes care of herself, she’s our only hope for helping Bo.”

  “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. This is all my fault for not killing him. But at the time…”

  “Tell me later. For now, let’s see if there’s anything we can do to help Monica with Bo.”

  “Right. Good idea.”

  “Jim!” Terry called out from the other side of the door.

  Jim ran past Trey and into the main room. He saw Terry still kneeling next to Bo, holding kitchen towels against the side of his ribcage.

  “Go look through our medical supplies and find this guy some pain-killers. I don’t know if we’re can save this guy, but we should be able to at least ease his pain.”

  “Right. Be right back.” Jim ran down the hall and into the supply room.

  “He’s really cold,” Monica said, holding her hand on Bo’s forehead.

  “Maybe we should move him next to the fireplace?”

  Monica’s muscles ached at the thought of trying to move another inert man.

  “We can try, but he’s really, really big.”

  “We’ll wait for Jim. I don’t know if it’ll do any good. I’m just graspin’ at straws here.” Terry moved the folded towels away from Bo’s side and saw that they were saturated. He grabbed two more of the thin towels, folded them a few times and pressed them against the adjacent bullet holes.

  “I think the bleeding may be slowing down,” he said.

  “Or he’s running out of blood,” Monica replied. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she brushed Bo’s hair back from his forehead.

  Jim came back and handled several prescription bottles to Terry. He looked at them, made a choice, and tapped out four pills. He asked Bo to open his mouth, but Bo didn’t respond so Terry pressed down on Bo’s chin with one hand and then pushed the pills into his mouth with the other. Jim went to the kitchen and came back with a cup of water. Monica poured some into his mouth and watched it come drooling back out. Terry tilted Bo’s head back and said, “Try again.” She poured some more and this time Bo swallowed.

  With nothing he could do for either wounded person, Jim went and got the mop and the bucket and started cleaning up the blood in the hallway.

  Thirty-one

  Terry sat next to Monica, thinking. After a minute, he gestured silently for Jim to join him over by the fireplace. Terry looked at Trey and indicated with a jerk of his head that Trey should join them too. He quietly suggested to the other men that they needed to remove Geraldine’s body. It might be helpful for Bo to get his mind off of his dead mother. He also didn’t want Elizabeth seeing the body lying there.

  “Good idea,” Trey said. “I’ll help you.”

  “You guys move the body and I’ll mop the floor.”

  Terry looked at Jim without saying anything.

  “What? It needs to be done.”

  “I don’t know,” Terry replied, then he and Trey went over to Geraldine. Terry whispered something in Monica’s ear. She nodded and reached for the arm that Bo had around his mother.

  “Bo, I need to take your pulse. Can I have your hand for a minute? That’s good. Just look at me and try to focus on breathing.”

  As she pretended to take his pulse, not even sure where she was supposed to feel for an artery, the two men took Geraldine by the hands and feet and quietly carried her away, looking like macabre thieves, practically tip-toeing toward the kitchen with the body swaying between them.

  Jim started mopping and Bo finally realized something was going on and turned his head away from Monica.

  “Mother!” he cried out.

  Jim stopped moving the mop.

  “They just took her to another room so I can clean this area. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

  Outside, Terry and Trey carried Geraldine to Terry’s pickup. They carefully set her down in the bed of the truck and Terry asked Trey to ride with the body while he drove them to get shovels and to find a burial spot. A few minutes later, both men were digging holes, making slow progress with the frozen earth.

  “Ya think maybe we could just stash her somewhere till springtime? This is impossible.”

  Terry stopped his nearly futile effort with the shovel to take a break and think about what Trey had just said. He looked around, wondering if they could get away with that somehow. They’d have to build a box to keep predators from eating away at her.

  In the distance, something caught his eye. Moving to his left to get a better view between the trees, he saw a contrail heading straight up. He slowly turned his head, then followed with his body, making a complete circle. He spotted three more white trails – all of them heading for the sky.

  “Shit! I don’t know what we can do with her, but right now we sure as hell can’t bury her. We need to get inside. Help me get her back in the truck.”

  They lifted the body and laid it back in the bed of the truck. Terry threw a tarp over her and quickly jumped into the cab. This time Trey rode in the cab. The rear tires spun in the dirt as Terry took off.

  “What’s wrong?” Trey looked around but didn’t see anything that would explain the look of fear on Terry’s face.

  “The shit just hit the fan.”

  “I don’t – what do you mean?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, the war just got started. For real this time.”

  Both men bounced up and hit their heads on the ceiling of the truck as they raced over a dip in the service road. Neither of them had put on their seatbelts.

  “Sorry about that,” Terry muttered, focusing on the road.

  Trey was confused, but each time he tried to formulate a question, he’d think of a different one. If Terry could tell what was happening, he felt that maybe it should be obvious to him too.


  Terry brought the truck to a stop in front of the lodge.

  “Come on!”

  He jumped out of the truck and sprinted for the door. It was locked.

  “Open up! It’s me and Trey!”

  Jim ran to the door. Terry sounded panicked. It had to be Carl. That monster was still alive. He pulled his gun out, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. He looked past the truck and around the parking lot but saw no one.

  “What’s going on? You look like you just saw a violent asshole.”

  “What I saw was several nukes heading for God knows where.”

  “Oh shit. Are you sure?”

  “Either that, or NASA is sending rockets to the moon again.”

  “Oh fuck,” Jim said. “So they were right. Denver was just the beginning.”

  Less than two hours later, a sleeping Bo Francis joined the casualties of world war three. Terry, Jim, and Trey placed his body in the truck bed beside his mother and secured the tarp. It was the best they could do for now.

  Two days later, water stopped flowing from the faucets in the lodge. Terry considered the problem and came up with a solution. He rationed water that he drained from the large water heater while missiles arced across the globe making it unsafe to go outside. Denver and Colorado Springs took several more hits which eventually covered the lodge in more nuclear fallout.

  This time there was no rain to wash away the poisonous ash by the time they had used all of the water in the water heater. As they began rationing water from the toilet tanks in the cabins, they realized that they had no choice but to leave the shelter and relative security of the lodge.

  Wearing multiple garbage bags secured around their shoes and lower legs, the men stood outside the lodge and loaded the RV with supplies passed to them from the women inside.

  After they had stripped the lodge of all the food and everything they had gathered on their supply runs, Jim and Trey removed the bags from their feet and got in the RV. Terry retrieved a bathroom door that he had removed when they were making the food storage box and laid it down to make a ramp, setting one end at the lodge doorway and the other end on the back bumper of the RV.