An Apocalypse of Our Own (Novella #5)

by Jeff Strand

  He gave her a hug. She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his chest for a while.

  “This probably won’t cheer you up,” Kevin admitted, after they finally broke the hug, “but one undeniable plus side is that neither one of us are dead. People are dead all over the place, but not us. We’re not even injured. How many people do you think are lying on the ground right now with a broken leg?”

  “You’re absolutely correct. That didn’t cheer me up.”

  “But it should! I mean, if you’ve got a broken leg, you’re pretty much screwed, right? Or at the very least you’re a huge burden to those around you. A broken leg under these circumstances might not just kill you; it could kill six or seven close friends or family members. All of those innocent deaths, all because of your leg. But not us. Our legs are in awesome shape.”

  “And neither one of us has falling debris lodged in our neck. That doesn’t mean we should dance a jig.”

  Kevin’s expression brightened. “You’re right! Falling debris! We could have been crushed by something, but we weren’t!”

  “Joy.”

  “And we’re relatively young. What if we were eighty? How many eighty-year-olds do you think are going to survive this? None. I’m telling you, Missy, this is the end of the eighty-and-up crowd, and we should be thankful we’re not one of them.”

  “When the fuck did you become so cheery?”

  “I’m just saying, given the situation, we’ve got it pretty sweet. Suppose we were crammed in here with fifty strangers? At least we know that neither one of us is going to murder the other over a can of beans. What if we had to sleep in shifts to keep somebody from cutting our throat with a tin can lid? That would suck, right?”

  “But we’re trapped down here!”

  “Trapped in comfort.” Kevin glanced around the shelter. “Okay, not comfort. But we can survive this. Not everybody can say that.”

  Missy let out a long, deep sigh and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “You’re right,” she said. “We’re going to live through this.”

  Kevin gave her another big hug. “Until we know otherwise, we’ll assume the best. Your parents are okay. Everybody we know and like is okay. The people we hate are dead.”

  “I don’t hate anyone.”

  “Good. That’ll make the repopulation efforts easier.” Kevin let go of her. “So let’s figure out what we’ve got and how everything works. We might be down here for a while.”

  * * *

  The first thing to make Missy feel legitimately better was the discovery of a body bag. A moment later, it disturbed the hell out of her that she was living in a world where she’d say “Body bag! Woo-hoo!” But then she went right back to being relieved that they now had something in which to store Uncle Jake.

  “Well, that was considerate of him, at least,” said Kevin. “Do you think maybe he knew he was going to kill himself?”

  “I’m going to go out on a dark limb and say that it was meant for one of us.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Either way, we’ve got to give him credit. I wouldn’t have thought to stock my apocalypse shelter with a body bag. Let’s get him in there.”

  It was by far the worst experience Missy had ever had putting something into a bag. The professionals who did this on a regular basis obviously had some sort of special technique that eluded Missy and Kevin. Even though they left him in his radiation suit, for a while it felt like they were getting more of Uncle Jake outside the bag than inside of it. Finally, though, they zipped it closed.

  They removed all of the cans from one of the bottom shelves and rolled Uncle Jake as far back as they could. Then they replaced as many of the cans in front of him as would fit, so they wouldn’t have to look at the bag.

  At least they had plenty of food, not that either of them ever expected to be able to eat, ever again.

  After the task was complete, they sat down for a few minutes of silent twitching.

  * * *

  Though Uncle Jake had thought ahead regarding the body bag, he’d made no progress toward restroom privacy, so Kevin hung a sheet around the toilet to make a curtain. This was still going to be an issue, because Kevin was the kind of guy who, if somebody entered the adjoining stall, would put the process on hold and wait silently for him to leave. He didn’t understand those who could cheerfully go about their business with another human being mere feet away, judging them.

  “Isn’t it nice to know that we’re in a position where we can worry about this sort of thing?” he asked. “Other people probably have worse problems than an exposed toilet.”

  “Do you want to share the bag with Uncle Jake?”

  “Sorry.”

  * * *

  After that, there really wasn’t much left to do. Surviving in a tiny apocalypse shelter was not a labor-intensive activity.

  Uncle Jake hadn’t gotten around to bringing down a deck of cards. There was no Internet, no television, no board games, no hand-held video games, no books, no comics, no magazines, no action figures, no knitting materials, no Sudoku, no drawing paper, no musical instruments, no spare wood to whittle, no goldfish, no puppets, no light sabers—nothing to pass the time. They both had games on their cell phones, but draining the battery on them seemed like it might be an unintelligent activity.

  Crying did make the first few hours go faster, but Kevin really hoped they weren’t down here for more than a couple of days, or at least one of them would go berserk.

  * * *

  “So what do you hope happened?” Kevin asked that night. They’d shut off the generator to conserve power, and didn’t want to use candles unless absolutely necessary, so they sat in the darkness.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “If it was terrorists, at least we might be able to beat them. Maybe we already have. If it wasn’t an attack…”

  “What else could it be? Smoke like that doesn’t form in nature.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “If there were green clouds floating around that dissolved people from the inside, I think we would have heard about it by now.”

  “I’m not saying that we missed the National Geographic special,” said Kevin. “But we don’t know what’s out there, with us polluting the environment and frying the ozone layer and everything.”

  “Green death cloud seems like a stretch.”

  “What if it’s God?”

  “You don’t believe in God,” Missy said.

  “I also don’t believe in aliens, but starting today I’m a bit more receptive to the idea.”

  “It wasn’t aliens.”

  “I’m not saying it was. But if I saw a spaceship spewing green smoke, I’d be way less surprised today than I would have been yesterday.”

  “It would really suck if there were aliens and we never got to see them because we’re stuck down here,” said Missy. “Everybody else would get to say ‘Whoa! I can’t believe we saw aliens!’ and we’d completely miss out. But it’s not aliens.”

  “Or God?”

  “Definitely not God.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because God would be more efficient if he wanted to wipe us out. You know when those insane preachers say ‘God created that hurricane to punish the gays!’? It seems kind of blasphemous to suggest that God doesn’t have a better targeting system.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anyway, it was terrorists.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Why is there doubt in your voice? It’s either aliens, some sort of Biblical prophecy where we’re the Chosen Ones, or terrorists.”

  “Or an accident.”

  Missy considered that. “Okay, you’re right. We could have been testing some sort of weapon and it blew up in our faces. We’ll rank that below terrorism but ahead of God and Martians. Any other possibilities?”

  “Witchcraft?”

  Missy gently punched Kevin on the shoulder. “Now you’re just being silly.”

/>   “Hey, we’ve got a lot of time to kill. We might as well discuss the idea of witchcraft.”

  “Well, sure, I mean, it could be Penn & Teller gone mad or some pin-headed guy with a puzzle box. To stay rational, though, we should stick to science.”

  “Science gone amok.”

  “Horribly.”

  “I guess we should try to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was one bed and one cot. Kevin would have slept on the cot if Missy had asked him to, but she didn’t. They slept together in the bed, not snuggling, but also not maximizing the distance between them.

  * * *

  0-2-1-8.

  INCORRECT.

  At least the lock had indeed reset overnight. They hadn’t found anything in the shelter to indicate possible codes, so they had nothing to go on beyond Uncle Jake’s astrological sign.

  0-2-1-9.

  INCORRECT.

  0-2-2-0.

  INCORRECT. TOO MANY ATTEMPTS.

  This could be a very long apocalypse.

  * * *

  “I think I’m going to take up juggling,” said Kevin, picking up three cans of beans. “I’ve always wanted to learn, and it’s not like we don’t have spare time. Do you want to learn to juggle with me?”

  “No, thanks,” said Missy.

  Kevin gave one of the cans a practice toss. It hit the floor with a loud clank. “Maybe this will be a valuable skill when we get out.”

  “How would juggling become a valuable skill?”

  “What if the Internet never comes back? People will need entertainment. This may be a good opportunity to get back to basics. What’s the harm?”

  “You could drop a can on your foot, break a toe, and be hobbled when we get out of here.”

  Kevin set the cans back on the shelf. “Well, crap. How are we supposed to pass the time, then?”

  * * *

  Kevin and Missy lay in bed, naked, holding each other, not speaking. They hadn’t said anything since they finished a few minutes ago—technically, since Kevin finished—and it wasn’t quite the comfortable silence of two lovers basking in post-coital bliss.

  Kevin was finally the first to verbalize something. “Well.”

  “Yeah.”

  “This was good. It’s not healthy to be locked down here with that much sexual tension in the air.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  There were several more moments of silence. Very, very long moments.

  Kevin was the one to break the silence again. “I just want you to know that I’m not proud of that performance. I’m totally aware that it was below par, both by my standards and the national average.”

  “No, no, it was good. I enjoyed it.”

  “Okay. Cool.”

  The silence continued.

  “What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You look like something’s wrong.”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I mean, I guess I’m still kind of upset that everybody we know might be dead. That’s something that’s wrong, if that’s what you were asking about.”

  “That’s reasonable. I thought it was more that you were regretting what we did.”

  Missy didn’t answer.

  “You’re regretting it, aren’t you?”

  “Are you?”

  “No!” Kevin insisted. “I think it’s terrific. I’m ready to do it again. In a few minutes.”

  “I’m not going to say that I never thought about it, but I never thought we would do it because we were…bored.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. How many babies do you think are born each year because their parents didn’t have cable?”

  “I know, I know. I just thought that if it eventually happened it would be more romantic.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit that we didn’t use one of the more romantic sexual positions. But at least we did it by candlelight.”

  “Because we’re conserving gasoline for the generator.”

  “Fair enough. You do understand that I was kidding when I said ‘I’m bored. Wanna fuck?,’ right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because if I thought for one instant that you were going to take me up on the offer, I would have phrased it differently. I’ve made that kind of joke lots of times and you’ve always laughed it off.”

  “I understand that. Believe me, I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I was a little horny and there was nothing else to do and I was feeling scared and lonely and you just set me off. It’s okay. I don’t regret it. I’m glad we did. It was a good call on our parts.”

  “This is awkward for you, isn’t it?”

  “Awkward as hell. As hell.”

  “Well, that’s only natural. We’ve spent a long, long time knowing each other and not having sex. It makes sense that there’ll be an adjustment period. But it didn’t feel like doing your brother, right?”

  “No! Jesus, Kevin!”

  “Just asking! Also…I know that the man and the woman are supposed to share in the responsibility equally for this sort of thing, but I kind of assumed that you would have stopped me if the lack of protection was a problem, so I didn’t…”

  “No, you did not just catch an STD.”

  “Not the direction I was going.”

  “Yes, I’m on the pill.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “But I obviously didn’t bring them to work with me yesterday. So unless Uncle Jake has a stockpile of condoms somewhere down here—and I will be really disturbed if he does—we can’t do this again until we get out.”

  Another long moment of silence.

  “I see.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Each morning, Missy woke up, climbed the ladder, and input the next three sequential numbers. She’d used up the possible Pisces dates, so she’d gone back to 0-0-0-2. And each morning she was rewarded with a buzz and:

  INCORRECT.

  INCORRECT.

  INCORRECT. TOO MANY ATTEMPTS.

  If Uncle Jake had used the passcode 9-9-9-9, it could be more than nine years before they got out of here. They would be dividing up the molecules of an individual bean for sustenance. Of course, by then they would have long since descended into madness, so they’d actually be fighting off hallucinations of the vicious eight-headed Bean Monster.

  In their former lives, Missy would have told Kevin that sleeping together was a mistake. A fun-filled mistake, but a mistake nevertheless, and one they couldn’t repeat if they valued their friendship not being weird.

  Down here, though…what else were they going to do?

  Though they couldn’t repeat the main attraction, they’d quickly settled on a compromise that was satisfactory to all participants. Kevin had offered to take his own precautions, but counting on him to pull out at the right moment was basically the equivalent of saying “I’m okay with being pregnant in a one-room underground shelter.” So instead they did a variety of things that took care of their physical needs and also helped pass the time.

  They were still definitely just friends. Missy wished it were more romantic, but despite the lack of gazing into each other’s eyes and declaring their undying love, if she had to be trapped down here with anyone, she was glad it was with Kevin.

  * * *

  This was freaking awesome. Kevin had never had so much sex in his life. They were going at it four or five times a day, and even if they weren’t actually having intercourse, it was ridiculously enjoyable. They’d always been candid with each other about their previous exploits, so Kevin already knew that one particular activity guaranteed to not result in pregnancy was entirely off-limits, and he resisted the temptation to suggest it.

  It almost made up for the fact that everything else about the past month had pretty thoroughly sucked.

  It was nice that they wouldn’t starve to death anytime soon, but he would strangle a dolphin for a fresh piece of fruit. Just one crisp, juicy, non-canned red apple, even if it were offered to h
im by a Disney witch. And there was no limit to the depths of depravity to which he would sink for an ice cream sandwich.

  But, again, it was nice that they wouldn’t starve to death anytime soon. The lack of tasty meals was a first world problem. A minor inconvenience. Compared to the fact that they’d had to slice up Uncle Jake’s body, it was nothing.

  Uncle Jake had kept fine in the body bag and radiation suit for a few days, but then Kevin and Missy detected the hint of a scent. When they smelled it, Kevin felt like he was going to burst into tears. It wasn’t as bad as Uncle Jake getting up and walking around as a zombie, but it was an extremely unpleasant issue that they now had to deal with.

  “I’m doing this myself,” said Kevin.

  Missy shook her head. “We’re in this together.”

  “There’s only need for one of us to be permanently traumatized. I have fewer emotions than you do. I’ll handle this.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then we’ll take turns. The next time we need to cut up and dispose of a body, it’s all on you.”

  Missy sat down on the bed, buried her face in her hands, and began to softly weep.

  What had he said wrong? Why was she all upset over a simple joke about cutting up a—oh, shit.

  “I didn’t mean me!” Kevin insisted, sitting on the bed next to her. “I’m not going anywhere. You won’t be cutting me up until I’m ninety, to use my skin for leather. I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

  Missy wiped her eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

  “The hell I can’t. I’m promising it right now.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither of us are. We’re getting out of this place, and then we’re going to deal with whatever mess is up there together.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m getting rid of Uncle Jake by myself.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Then let me make a confession. I’ve been getting a lot of blowjobs these past few days, and I’ve been really enjoying them. Each and every one of them has been a work of art. And I feel like the horrible task at hand is the sort of thing that could dry up the supply of blowjobs for a while. So when I offer to do it by myself, it may sound like I’m being all chivalrous and stuff, but it’s really all about shameful, disgusting lust. I am a truly wretched person.”