First New Year's After the Apocalypse

by Jessica Payseur

  First New Year’s After the Apocalypse

  By Jessica Payseur

  Wade Turner takes a drunk Jaxxon home after work hoping to get laid. What he gets instead is news that the world as they know it is ending—superbugs are sweeping the nation, leaving high death tolls in their wake, and the president has been assassinated. In this new storm of chaos everyone is referring to as the Apocalypse, Wade decides their chances are better if they stick together.

  But when Jaxxon’s ex dies in a hurricane and his daughter goes missing, Wade watches the man he loves slip into despair. Desperate to save his relationship, Wade leaves in the middle of the night on a dangerous journey to save Jaxxon’s daughter—a child he’s not sure is even still alive. If he can put this family back together, maybe there will still be something worth celebrating in the aftermath of the Apocalypse.

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  By Jessica Payseur

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  IT WAS unexpected. The bugs, the storms, the kiss—all of it. Wade stroked his bottom lip with a thumb, arm propped against the car door, lost in memories as the road and barren countryside blurred by. It wasn’t even a year ago now he’d met Jaxxon at a bar during the height of the superbug outbreak. Not quite a year since everything went to hell, not quite a year since the world shifted, moved past the point where everyone could silently acknowledge there was no turning back.

  Jaxxon’s wife, Rose, had just left him, taking their ten-year-old daughter south to live in Florida. Where she had family. Where food could be grown easier, longer, larger. Wade had listened to Jaxxon as he purged his system of it all, and wiped down the bar, brought him another. All the televisions broadcasted sports except the one nearest to Wade, set to the news of the breakdown of society. Deaths the world over. Chaos in Europe. Panic in every large city in the States. But here in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin, beer flowed on as usual. Wade let Jaxxon stay as long as he could.

  “Gotta close up,” said Wade, taking away Jaxxon’s empty glass. He flicked off the news before the updated death tolls could be read, plunging the bar into silence. When he turned back, Jaxxon yanked him halfway across the counter, placed his drunken mouth on Wade’s.

  It was a shitty kiss. Wade still went home with him. They made out for a while on Jaxxon’s bed; when he passed out, Wade curled up beside him, tried not to wonder whether this had been Rose’s side of the bed. It was nearly noon when Wade woke and it took him a good fifteen minutes to figure out where the coffee was. He brought steaming mugs back to the bedroom and Jaxxon rolled over, groaning.

  “Shit,” he said. “Did we…?”

  “Nah,” said Wade. “But I wanna get back home. Think you can drive? We left your car back at the bar.”

  “You drove me home.”

  “Not like you could,” said Wade.

  “How considerate,” said Jaxxon, words a growl. He groaned again as he rolled toward his coffee.

  The drive back to the bar passed in utter silence, but when Wade parked, Jaxxon made no move to get out. Wade debated a moment, then turned the car off.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why didn’t you beat my ass? I kissed you, right?”

  Wade shrugged. Jaxxon shook his head.

  “What the hell. The world is ending. I don’t give a fuck.” He opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Wade watched him get in his truck and drive off. He sat for a while as it began to snow, big, wet flakes that would turn to slush on the road. The weather was wild, fluctuating between the deep-cold temperatures normal for January and chilling rain, although mostly winter had been settling on the rain. Still, Wade knew how to handle freezing rain; word in the news was sea levels were up so high around the world people along the coasts were evacuating their homes. He shook his head and started the car.

  “THIS IS as far as I go,” said the white woman, pulling over at the side of the road. Wade hadn’t asked for her name and she hadn’t asked for his. Hitchhikers were so commonplace and brief now that many people didn’t bother. Everyone was trying to get somewhere better. Everyone knew there wasn’t anyplace better.

  “Thanks,” said Wade and stepped out into rain. It was always raining in Wisconsin now. He grabbed his bag from the backseat and gave her a friendly wave as she drove off.

  He trudged down the muddy road, glaring at the odd police drone that passed him by. Technically it was illegal for him to be on the interstate on foot, but there were so few cars these days that it was hardly dangerous. The drones would scan his face and he’d have a mailbox full of fines when he got back. If he ever got back.

  It was nearly five in the evening and getting dark fast in true December fashion, reminding Wade he’d have to find someplace to settle down soon. The moon wasn’t anywhere near full and it was raining. It would be too much to continue in the darkness, but he wanted to push on a little farther. There was bound to be an abandoned farmhouse along the road somewhere.

  He laughed to himself. Today was a turning point. He could feel it in his bones. Just like that day he’d gone home with Jaxxon. If he’d left the bar immediately, if he hadn’t sat in the parking lot for a while after Jaxxon drove off, he would have missed the news. He didn’t listen to the radio at home, rarely opened a news site online. But the timing had been right. He’d lingered, turned on the car, and heard about the end of society as he knew it. The Apocalypse, as people took to calling it. January third: the end and beginning of everything.

  “The president has been assassinated,” the news reporter had said. “While en route to a safe house, her envoy was attacked. The vice president and speaker of the house are currently ill. More will be updated on this story as it develops. Around the country, survival rates for those contracting superbug infections have gone up from a 30 percent chance of recovery to 40 percent as states are mobilizing emergency procedures.”

  Words of the death and assassination echoing in his head, Wade had made a U-turn at the next stop sign and drove into town instead of home. He could visit his apartment later. For now his mind raced. Something big, something bad, was happening. No superbugs had made it yet to this pocket of Wisconsin, but they would, and with no president at the moment, he could only envision chaos erupting.

  He went to the store.

  There didn’t seem to be many people doing what he was yet: stocking up. Wade went for canned foods, rice and other grains, spices and shelf-durable sauces. He also bought toilet paper, toothpaste, deodorant. Mothers out shopping with their children shot him nasty looks. He completely filled his car, wondering whether he should stop at the bank and pull out cash.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Jaxxon when he opened the door. He wore only a bathrobe, his hair damp, and Wade realized Jaxxon had expected to never see him again.

  “The president’s dead,” said Wade, as though that explained it.

  “Not my problem.” Jaxxon moved to close the door, but Wade stepped inside and set down the multiple plastic bags he’d managed to juggle to the house.

  “Things are going to change,” said Wade as Jaxxon glared at him.

  “Things have already.”

  Wade knew Jaxxon was referring to his wife leaving him, mainly, but also the superbugs. Antibiotics didn’t work on them anymore, and several aggressive strains had been making their way across the country with high mortality rates. Larger cities like New York and Chicago were already well into riots. But with no president, Wade could not see the state of things moving in any direction but worse. And he didn’t particularly care to ride that out on his own.


  “I live alone,” said Wade, deciding to be blunt. “I don’t want to.”

  “Just because I kissed you and let you drive me home does not mean you can move in with me,” said Jaxxon. “I was drunk.”

  Wade smiled, leaned into Jaxxon’s personal space.

  “Wanna kiss me again and see how you feel about it sober?”

  Jaxxon pushed him away with a hand.

  “Do not try to tell me you’re straight,” said Wade.

  “I don’t even know you,” said Jaxxon instead, but his glare was gone now. He seemed more curious than anything that he couldn’t get rid of Wade.

  “Last night wasn’t enough to earn your trust?”

  “What are you, desperate?” asked Jaxxon. He was eyeing the plastic bags now. “What’s in there?”

  “Those? Toothpaste and deodorant. Canned and other nonperishable food’s in the car. Wouldn’t mind help unloading.”

  “I didn’t say you could move in,” said Jaxxon again, but he was clearly looking Wade up and down now. Debating. He wouldn’t want to be alone either. He’d said as much while drunk off his ass the night before.

  “You don’t have to let me move in, but if you did, we could watch each other’s backs as the world goes to hell.”

  Jaxxon sighed.

  “All right. We can put all your stock-up food in the basement.”

  WADE STAYED out of the area of the abandoned house that had gotten water damage and was growing mold. He used his phone for light to check all the cupboards, but all he found was a small can of mushrooms, and he wasn’t hungry enough to eat those. There was half a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom, and inspection of an old bed in a tiny room revealed there were no bugs. This was a good place to settle in for the night.

  He pulled out his charger and plugged the phone into the wall just in case, but he wasn’t optimistic. Everything came in waves now due to so few people working the energy plants and the abrupt need to cease all carbon fuels. There just wasn’t enough solar and wind to go around, even with so many deaths. And even if he was lucky enough to catch a pocket of electricity, it was likely the connection to this house had been turned off.

  Still, he wouldn’t entirely discount it until it happened. He took his shoes off, leaned back on the bed, and thought of Jaxxon. How pissed he would be. Wade doubted Jaxxon would even miss his presence next to him in bed later tonight. But he’d definitely be eating better. Wade debated whether to have his food now or put it off a few hours, ultimately giving in. He pulled a foil packet of tuna out of his bag and tore it open.

  His phone buzzed, startling him. His carrier was providing service at the moment and a text had come through. Wade leaned over and grabbed his phone, unsurprised to see the message was from Jaxxon.

  Knew you’d leave, it read. Don’t bother coming back.

  Wade didn’t bother texting either. He knew he should, to explain himself, apologize, try to make up for the ridiculous argument they’d had, but he knew it would only piss Jaxxon off more. He would have wanted to go with Wade, even though it would mean losing their house. And most importantly Wade didn’t want to get Jaxxon’s hopes up. So he sat back on the bed, sucked at a disgusting packet of tuna, and tried not to think about fighting about Christmas after the Apocalypse.

  It seemed half of what they did was argue. The very first thing they’d done was fight, Jaxxon pissed about Wade having chosen plastic bags rather than paper. Jaxxon had carried in no less than eight bags of rice and spice packets at once, only to have several of them rip and spill into the cold slush outside.

  “Why don’t you stay inside?” asked Wade when Jaxxon stomped in, swearing. “You can take everything downstairs.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “It was a suggestion,” said Wade. Clearly Jaxxon was still feeling shitty from the night before.

  “Don’t make those,” said Jaxxon, following Wade out into the slush as he went to pick up the spilled food. Large, wet flakes fell around them, turning to cold water the moment they landed on exposed faces. “Nice ass.”

  Wade held back a comment, instead pulling out the seasoning packets that hadn’t been ruined by the winter slush. Jaxxon could admire his ass all he wanted.

  “House rules,” said Jaxxon, crossing his arms against the cold. Wade couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed Wade hadn’t encouraged his ogling, or his ass wasn’t enough to brighten Jaxxon’s mood. Wade tried not to be offended at the second thought.

  “Yeah?” he said, passing back the bag of packets and opening another for the rice.

  “No shitty plastic bags.”

  “Says the guy who doesn’t want me telling him what to do,” said Wade.

  Jaxxon flared up.

  “You know what? Screw you. I don’t need a roommate.”

  “I wasn’t planning on being your roommate,” said Wade, figuring it was best to be upfront about it. The notion shouldn’t have been strange to Jaxxon after everything, but it only seemed to make him angrier.

  “I don’t need rebound or pity,” he said, dropping the bag of seasoning packets in the slush. Secretly Wade felt smug he’d picked the plastic. The wetness would have seeped right through paper. Wade couldn’t help it; he laughed.

  “Yeah, you’re doing just fine,” he said, picking up the bag Jaxxon had dropped and bringing it inside to get muddy water on the floor. “You told me all about it last night.”

  “Fuck you,” said Jaxxon, glaring at Wade’s amusement. “You’re the bartender. That was in confidence.”

  “Booze is never in confidence,” said Wade, then thought he should offer something in return. “But I’m willing to drink with you later and give away some of my secrets. Takeout pizza and cheap beer. What d’you think?”

  “I think we’re not going to last a year.”

  WADE WOKE drenched in sweat despite the pervasive cold of the abandoned house and shuddered, pulling the blanket he’d found tighter around himself.

  “Shit,” he muttered, flicking his eyes around the darkened room. Although it had been moments ago, he couldn’t remember the dream he’d been having. He’d forgotten how terrible he slept without Jaxxon by him, a lump of stability and comfort. And now Wade was alone.

  He rolled over, trying to get to sleep again, waking after an hour or so. Not even a year and it was rough to be apart. Hours away, Jaxxon was in bed alone, probably out until midmorning after drinking himself to sleep. Wade knew him well enough to know that.

  Jaxxon had been more interested in the fucking at first than any kind of emotional intimacy, which Wade begrudgingly understood. Apart from the night he’d driven Jaxxon home, he was only invited to bed when Jaxxon was horny, and otherwise had to sleep on the couch. The spare bed had been Jaxxon’s daughter Maddy’s and was off-limits.

  “Pick up after yourself,” said Jaxxon as he tossed the blanket Wade had been using off the couch to have a seat. They had completely moved Wade out of his apartment a week ago and the new energy restrictions had gone into effect. Globally everything was going to hell so thoroughly nearly every nation had signed on to quit carbon cold turkey, but the lack of appropriate renewables in place resulted in waves of energy being distributed at often enough intervals to keep the house warm and snag some entertainment.

  “Yeah, remember we sold my bed for the extra cash?” asked Wade as he brought over a bowl of microwave popcorn. Instead of queuing up a movie, though, Jaxxon started playing porn.

  “You said you wouldn’t need it,” said Jaxxon. He pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing an average body Wade always wished he could spend more time on. Wade sighed and set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

  “I figured we were sharing.”

  “I need my space,” said Jaxxon, pulling Wade closer by the hip. Wade kissed him, unzipped his pants. Jaxxon liked starting on oral, and since Wade liked giving, he was always happy to oblige. He trailed a hand down Jaxxon’s chest as he knelt, the porn playing in the background. Jaxxon
leaned into him, syncing motions as Wade took him into his mouth.

  When Jaxxon was ready, he pulled back. Wade undressed while Jaxxon focused on condom and lube, pushing Wade where he wanted him on the couch.

  “Why am I always bottom?” asked Wade.

  “It’s been a week, Wade,” said Jaxxon, and eased himself inside. “You said you didn’t care.”

  He had. But then, he’d been hoping for something a little more intimate from Jaxxon than this. When he went to touch himself, Jaxxon swatted his hand away and saw to it, something Wade did like about the sex. Jaxxon never made him see to himself. He grabbed up Wade’s discarded boxers and kept them in his hand as he stroked Wade, an action that made the heat rush through Wade’s body. He knew it was to keep him from coming all over the couch, but the idea of soiling his own boxers like this was hot.

  Jaxxon came first but didn’t stop riding Wade until he’d also released, and they collapsed on the couch together, the porn suddenly sounding ridiculous now that they were spent. Jaxxon pulled out and switched over to a movie, and they cuddled together while watching it.

  Despite times like that, Wade still slept alone on the couch. Until the superbugs arrived.

  “NEVER HEARD of it,” said the old white man behind the wheel.

  “It’s sorta in northwestern Wisconsin,” said Wade, not surprised where he was from meant nothing to this man. They had been traveling for hours now, yet it was only recently the old man had gotten bored enough to chat. Stretches of flat Illinois farmland rushed past on either side as they went, overgrown fields and those struggling to grow crops in no discernable pattern.

  “Heard it was nicer up there,” said the man. Wade shrugged. No place was nicer, really. Off in the distance, a storm flickered. The air rushing through the open windows smelled charged, dangerous.

  “You get much rain?” asked Wade, guessing Jaxxon was hunting in it right now. The old man laughed.