Notes From the End of the World

by Donna Burgess

  “So? What’s up?” he asks, buckling up. “Where’re we heading?”

  “Should we surprise him?” Audrey asks, grinning wickedly. She glances at me in the rearview mirror as we pull away.

  “If we tell him, he might hop out and run away,” I answer.

  “Come on!” Nick cries. “I skipped out on going to my Granny’s for this.”

  “Well, prepare yourself,” Audrey says. “We’re going to Home Depot.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Neither of us answers.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No. That’s where we’re going. Dad wants us to get supplies,” I confess.

  “For the zombie apocalypse,” Audrey adds.

  “Fun.” Nick slumps against the seat. “You know what that place is gonna be like? It’s been like the day before a hurricane for weeks. I went over there with Miles last weekend. People were getting ugly over plywood and tomato seeds.”

  “Tomato seeds?” Audrey asks.

  “Don’t ask me why,” Nick tells her with a shrug.

  I say nothing. I know why. It’s like a cloud at the horizon on a sunny day at the beach. It’s okay at the moment, but a storm’s coming. You can either prepare early and pack your things ahead of time or you can throw everything together once you see the first strike of lightening and run like hell.

  ***

  Nick wasn’t exaggerating. Home Depot is a madhouse. Droves of men in sweaty t-shirts that don’t quite fit over their swinging tummies push carts and dollies through the store, piled with plywood, buckets, bleach, duct tape. Some have generators and others have propane tanks. At the front, there are only two lines, both snaking down the nearest aisles, thirty or more deep.

  “You’ve gotta be screwing me,” Audrey whispers as we go inside.

  “No wonder your dad sent you two,” Nick says. “He’s a smart guy.”

  I look around and spot a shopping cart abandoned near the front doors. I grab it just as an older man reaches for it.

  “Here, you go ahead,” I say, letting go of the handle. He takes it and hustles away without a word or a glance my way.

  “Nice manners,” Nick calls after him, and lower, he adds, “asshole.”

  “Let’s try to grab some of the small things that we can just carry,” I suggest, taking the list Dad gave me from the pocket of my jeans. We’ve been making these trips for weeks, missing out on this item or that. Deliveries are still being made to the stores, but they are increasingly irregular.

  It quickly becomes clear that luck isn’t on our side today, either. Duct tape is gone, as is most other kinds of tape. The only batteries left are those rectangular nine-volts that don’t fit anything but the smoke detectors. Water canisters, gas canisters and most other containers that will hold water are gone, leaving the shelves strangely empty.

  Nick does grab up the last five starter fire logs, although they aren’t on my list. “It’s getting colder. I know how girls are—always cold.”

  “Hardly,” Audrey counters. “I’m hot.”

  Nick flashes one of his patented cute-boy smiles. Glancing at me, he shrugs. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” I tell him. Actually, he’s right—at least about me. I’ve never been one for cold weather. I mutter a “thank you,” wanting to give him a kiss instead.

  Near the garden department checkouts, things are getting ugly between a couple of men who are on the wrong side of middle-age. “You stole that goddamn lantern off my cart. It was the one like that and you just took it,” a sloped-shouldered guy in an Izod golf shirt and an expensive haircut shouts. His wife, timid and sweet-faced, touches his him.

  “It doesn’t matter, Hal,” she says, barely loud enough to be heard. “We have several at home.”

  “Better listen to your wife, old man,” barks a man who looks to be even older than the first guy. He storms forward, two boxes containing halogen lamps tucked awkwardly under one arm. His thin lips pull back, revealing crooked and yellowing teeth as he shoves the other old man. The sweet-face wife screams, her hand flying to her chest as her hubby stumbles backward and plops on his ass.

  Part of me wants to scream at them, to scream at the people standing around watching, not helping, but who am I? I’m not helping, either. I’m getting what I can use just like everyone else.

  Nick nudges Audrey with his elbow. “Let get out of here,” he says. He weaves through the gathering throng of rubberneckers, holding Audrey’s hand, and I jog to keep up. With the scuffle, nobody seems to pay attention and we move to the front of one line. Audrey pays with Dad’s credit card and leave with only the handful of useless batteries and the logs. Home Depot has been a bust, but instead of going home, Audrey hangs a left onto Highway 17 and heads north. Apparently, in her world, there’s no bad time to go to the mall. Even as society crumbles around her.

  ***

  The parking lot looks like it probably does on Christmas Day. Of course, I’ve never been out on Christmas to know for sure, but it’s completely empty save for a few cars and pickups parked near the entrance to the foodcourt and the middle doorways. Trash—fast food wrappers, newspapers—blow leisurely around the pavement. It’s strange, seeing trash everywhere like this. Normally, Palm Dale Mall is fairly pristine.

  Audrey nearly pulls onto the curb in front of Bed Bath & Beyond and for a moment, I want going to credit her with some good thinking. I never considered a bath and kitchen store, but why not? There might be something useful in there.

  Of course, I should know better.

  “I’m not taking any chances,” Audrey says, climbing out. “With nobody around, this is prime territory for Shamblers, I’ll bet. Besides, this entrance is closer to American Eagle.”

  “Dad didn’t say we could do that,” I argue, jogging to catch up with my sister’s long, purposeful strides. Nick lingers behind. When I glance back at him, he’s cautiously scanning the parking lot.

  “This is the way I see it, baby sis. We’re taking valuable time to pick up this shit we’re probably not even going to need. We deserve something new, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re living in another reality,” I say. “Look around you. It’s Friday afternoon and there’s hardly anyone here.” I’m sick of her selfishness and her stupidity. “Let me have the card.”

  “No.” Audrey raises her chin in that dumb haughty way she has. I step forward, my fist clenched. I want to hit her suddenly. I want to knock that bitchy look off her face; I want to floor her.

  Nick must sense it. He steps between us, his arms out, a small grin touching the corners of his mouth. “Let’s not fight, ladies. Audrey, let’s check out the sporting goods store and maybe Sears first. Then we can check out A&E and Hollister.”

  He waits for a response, but Audrey cocks one hip out and sulks.

  “Okay?” Nick slips his hand along my sister’s neck and pulls her closer. He kisses her and I look away. Audrey doesn’t deserve any of us—especially a guy like Nick.

  “All right,” she agrees, rolling her eyes. “But make it quick. I hate sports stores.”

  Our footsteps echo in the stillness of the mall and my mind fills with scenes from the Dawn of the Dead remake. What if we discover the exits are clogged with Shamblers and we can’t get back to the Beemer? What will we do? The idea of living inside a shopping mall with Nick isn’t completely unappealing, but I’m positive I need to get away from Audrey as soon as I possible. Or else, I’m going to snatch her bald.

  The crowd (of you could call it that) at Dick’s Sporting Goods isn’t anywhere as thick and unruly as the one at Home Depot. It’s probably because everything that appears to be of some use is gone. The shelves in the camping and hunting department are picked bare. However, if you need baseball equipment, you’re in business.

  Nick grabs a big barreled aluminum bat and take a few fairly inexperienced swings. Nick’s a soccer player, like me. “You know, these could be useful,” he says.

 
A young guy with headful of red curls, a skimpy goatee comes over and a name tag that reads “Colin” hanging crooked on the left side of his chest strolls over.

  “I can let you have that for twenty percent off,” he says. He has that perpetually burned-out slowness to his voice that reminds me of Seth Rogen. “In fact, everything in the store is discounted. Not much of any use left, but you might find something.”

  Nick lowers the bat. “Any ideas? We were at Home Depot and it was a madhouse.”

  The carrot-topped Colin shrugs. “We already had the madhouse moment. A couple of days ago. Now, we’re picked clean and down to three workers who aren’t sick and still willing to show up. We probably won’t open Monday.”

  My stomach clenches up. Maybe this really is the end of the world. Businesses are closing. The people who are still healthy are afraid to leave the house.

  We’re at the mall in November and there’s no Christmas decorations. In fact, the few Halloween decorations that were put up are still there.

  I catch Audrey and Nick exchange glances. Then she steps forward and tosses her hair in that way that makes guys fall all over themselves to be near her. Of course, that’s before they find out she’s a total bitch.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing here we can use? Maybe some of that camping food or some kind of containers. Batteries? Our dad will be angry if we come back empty-handed.”

  Audrey could win an Oscar for best actress. Another thing she is better at than I am—lying.

  But it works.

  “Come on,” Colin says. “There’s a few things left in the back. We started hoarding stuff a couple of weeks ago, but since some of us never showed back up, I’m guessing they won’t be needing it, now.”

  We follow Colin, his love handles giggling under his red uniform polo. I notice wearily what appears to be dried blood on the back of his pants leg. I hope it’s mud, but in the back of my mind, I know it isn’t. Unless you live in a cave, we all have seen something terrible at this point.

  I can picture him waiting out the zombie apocalypse with a stack of X-Men comics and a PS4 running on a generator. He doesn’t appear very shook up at the moment, so I see him being fairly happy, sort of like the little man who only wanted time to read in that old episode of Twilight Zone I watched with Dad when the SyFy Channel ran that marathon last Fourth of July.

  “Why have you even bothered coming back this week?” I ask. “I mean, if nearly everything’s gone and nobody’s coming in, what’s the point?”

  Colin pulls a key from his pants and unlocks the door to the storage room. “I don’t know why I’m still locking this,” he says apologetically. He reaches inside, flips on the lights, and we follow him in.

  “I think I was trying to just go on living as normally as I could,” he says, “but I stopped going to school a few days ago. I go to Tech part-time, but the last time I went, people were just wandering around on campus. The instructors had stopped coming.”

  Clothing and shoes scatter the floor of the big room. Nick grabs a lacrosse stick and pretends to play. He makes a rake move and takes off across the room. Colin looks amused. “So, what school do you guys go to?”

  “Palm Dale High,” Audrey tells him, still pretending she’s friendly.

  Colin shoves his hands deep into his pockets and grins. “Thought so. I could tell by how you’re dressed.”

  “What the heck does that mean?” Audrey snaps, the faux-friendliness instantly gone. She stomps toward the chunky salesguy.

  Colin jumps backward. “No offense!” He holds his hands up in front of him. “I meant you all are dressed…kinda rich. I would’ve figured you guys would be safe from…all this.”

  Audrey sighs. “We don’t dress rich. Our parents are too tight with money.”

  “Audrey. C’mon.” My sister’s mental age varies from day to day. Today she’s hovering between twelve and fourteen. Looking at Colin, I say, “Nobody’s safe.”

  Colin moves deeper into the starkly lit room. “Listen. Take what you think you can use. I doubt you’ll find much, anyhow. Just keep your mouths shut about it. Okay?”

  He makes his way toward the door. “Just don’t make it obvious. If anyone else is in the store when you’re finished, just come through the checkout. Hand my your card, but I won’t run it.”

  Actually, the storage room turns out to be a treasure box, if you consider a camp stove, a hunting bow with a half-dozen arrows, and a couple of collapsible water containers treasure. Audrey tries on hiking boots and I grab up a couple of sets of Cold Gear long underwear for each of us, guessing at the sizes. It’s already cold at night and as I said, I hate cold. If the power goes off for any period of time, I certainly don’t want to sit around shivering to death.

  From behind a tall set of shelves, Nick calls out. “Check it out!” He bursts from behind the wall of boxes holding a small black device over his head victoriously.

  Audrey looks up from her stacks of boots. “What the hell’s that?”

  “A hand crank radio.” Nick comes closer. “See?” He turns the crank a couple of time and then begins probing the dial. Static and more static and finally he zeroes in on some windbag talk radio host.

  “…blame your liberal, do-nothing government. When you watch your children die and your spouse become something … not human, blame—”

  Nick snaps it off. “What an asshole,” he mutters. “Anyway, it works. And I might come in useful.”

  He gives it to me. “Tell your dad he owes me,” he says, winking. My heart quickens and I smile, feeling silly.

  Audrey remains in her own little world. “I wonder if there’s any cool bathing suits back here.”

  Nick and I look at each other, then burst out laughing.

  “Are you sure you need to waste time looking for a new bathing suit?” I ask as Audrey vanishes into the back part of the room.

  She rummages through a box labeled Roxy, tossing stringy bras and panties this way and that until she finds one that appeals to her. It’s a cute pink number that I could never pulled off considering my muscular legs and my lack of curves. “I can use it in the spring. By then things will be back to normal.”

  I have to like her optimism, if nothing else.

  A pair of long men’s boardshorts hits me in the chest.

  “There. I found something for you, too.” She cackles as I jerk around to see if Nick heard.

  If he did, he does a good job of not laughing.

  Batteries are still a no-go, but for some reason, I’m inclined to grab a box of JackLinks Beef Jerky. That stuff’s too salty for my tastes, but it’s a good source of protein, according to Dad. I sincerely hope I’ll never become that desperate for protein.

  We leave Dick’s Sporting Goods, Nick pushing a cart with our few items—the handcrank radio, Audrey’s fabulous new bathing suit, the big barrel bat, the jerky, the thermal underwear, and case of Powerade (yellow—my favorite!). He exchanges Instagram handles with Colin, although in all likelihood they’ll never contact each other again, and we leave. Colin doesn’t bother going through the motions of ringing us up.

  I grab a Nike Pink-for-the-Cure soccer ball on the way out and juggle it on my knees as we enter the deserted mall. I try not to think of what might happen to Colin. It’s stupid to worry about a person I knew for all of forty-five minutes. But he seems like a smart guy. Nerds don’t get enough credit for what they know about surviving—bullies, zombies, or bitchy high school cheerleaders.

  Muzak plays over the intercom, too loud against the silence that hangs like a fog.

  “I could learn to live like this,” Audrey says.

  “No, you couldn’t,” I tell her. “Who would you try to impress?” The ball strikes my insole wrong and bounces away. I jog after it and dribble it back to Audrey and Nick, deftly avoiding the defending benches and trash cans.

  “I don’t need to impress anyone, Cindy. Why should I bother with people, anyway? Most of them are shit, I told you.”

  I cut a
look at Nick and he rolls his eyes. He’s heard the “people are shit” routine before.

  “Maybe so, Audrey, but it’s better than being totally alone,” Nick says. “The world needs people. People need people.”

  Audrey refuses to relent completely. “Well, maybe not so many.”

  I look down the length of the mall toward Sears. The gate is pulled down. There isn’t another person in sight between here and there.

  “Well, I guess that gets you off the hook, Audrey. No more boring stores.” I bounce the ball a couple more times on one knee and then the other, then volley it as hard as I can. That’s one thing I can add to my ever growing list of things I’ve never done until the zombie apocalypse—kind a soccer ball the length of Palm Dale Mall.

  Amazingly, Audrey doesn’t mention going to A.E. or any other store. Instead, we head for the Bed Bath and Beyond entrance. I wonder if Dad will be disappointed that we’re returning with so few things on the list. Last week’s trip was better—Audrey’s list of bleach, tampons, toilet paper and whatnot. It turns out the Dollar General is the place to go for those things. Even more so, because there’s a good chance Audrey might die of shame if anyone sees her going in or coming out of a discount store.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I move ahead of Nick and the cart and start to push open the door, before realizing a Shambler is standing just outside. Instinctively, we all jump back although it’s obvious this newbie has already lost the ability to open or close a door.

  It’s a boy, about thirteen years old. His surfer blond hair hangs just below his ears, streaked with dried blood. His tanned skin has given way to the gray complexion that accompanies death. His pale blue Reef hoodie is filthy, one sleeve torn off. His thin legs jut out from his wide-legged shorts like a pair of twigs, and what appears to be the whitish glint of bone shows through from the shin to the knee of one leg. He’s lost a flip-flip, and the other one sits sideways on his foot, barely hooked at the toes.

  Pulling his lips back in what might be mistaken for a grin, he pounds the glass. Faintly, we hear him grunting like an animal struggling to get at its next meal.