The End: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Matt Shaw

Maybe?

  With the can in one hand, I reached for the controller sitting on top of the glass coffee table in front of me. Aiming at the screen on the far wall, I pressed the red button. Nothing.

  Worth a try.

  I tossed the controller to one side and tried hard not to let the lack of television disappoint me. I knew it wouldn’t work. Not sure why I even bothered trying and I certainly shouldn’t get annoyed by it’s lack of power. Not when the cupboards are so full and my surroundings so luxurious after what I have become used to. Don’t let it dampen my pleasure in what God has given me.

  There you go again with God. God is dead. He would never have allowed this.

  Looking around the room, here is a couple that clearly went into pictures in a big way. Not just painted pictures of landscapes but framed photographs of themselves. Not only were they lining the walls of the hallway but they were in here too; on the mantle-piece, hanging by a large mirror, even by the doorway. Lots and lots of pictures. That’s one thing I miss in today’s world. Photographs. Captured reminders of the family life I miss so much. I pulled a framed picture from beside me, taking it off a smaller coffee table tucked between wall and sofa next to where I had slumped. Thoughts weren’t of the couple posing for whoever had snapped the picture for them. Instead they had drifted to my own family and the night everything had changed.

  B E F O R E

  Chapter Four

  “How’s the family?” my brother asked me as we hugged it out. Been a long time since we had spoken on anything other than a computer. His sunken eyes, red raw from crying, with black bags under them caused by several nights of broken (or no) sleep. He looked like Death. Don’t think I’ve seen him like that before.

  “They’re good,” I told him. It wasn’t quite the truth. I had problems at home and he deserved to know about them. He needed to know. At some point in the future, I’d be needing his support to deal with it just as he was needing my support now. This trip – travelling across country to see him - wasn’t the time or the place to discuss it though. Not today. Not after he’d just buried his own wife, Helen. “Sorry they’re not here but…”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I understand.”

  “I mean they wanted to be.”

  I felt bad for him. Her death had been completely out of the blue. She had gone shopping with some friends. Loaded up with Christmas presents for him, she was crossing the road on her way towards her parked car and - out of nowhere - a bus had struck her. They said the driver had had a seizure at the wheel. Killed Helen outright and seriously injured a couple of her friends. Luckily they were recovering and, although in plaster still, were able to attend the funeral and pay their respects.

  A wake up call to how fragile life can be.

  I had travelled up for the funeral, getting here a couple of days beforehand to ensure that he had everything he needed. Poor bastard, I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was going through. Less than a year they had been married. Both of them looking forward to a lifetime of happiness together. The only blessing was - if there was such a thing - they had no children. Hard to lose someone close to you but harder still when there are children involved.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” David said to me, leading the way up the stairs towards the spare bedroom. I followed despite knowing where it was. It wasn’t the first time I had come to stay with him. Even though we didn’t see each other as much as we should, I made the effort to travel this way a few times a year at least. Usually under better circumstances though.

  “So how have you been?” I asked him.

  Stupid question.

  We reached the bedroom giving him the perfect excuse to ignore the question posed, “This is you. Fresh towels are in the bathroom, help yourself if you want a shower or anything. I’ll give you a bit of time to settle in and then - I don’t know - maybe order you in a pizza?”

  I tossed my rucksack onto the bed and turned to him, “Done. I’m settled in. And pizza? You eaten yet today?”

  He smiled, “I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

  “You need to eat so - with that in mind - what do you fancy?”

  He shrugged, “Just not been that hungry.”

  “Well - you’re eating now.” Looking at my brother, it was obvious he hadn’t been eating. the weight had dropped off him. He looked bad. A shell of the man he used to be before the accident happened. “So - what do you fancy then?”

  He shrugged again, “I have a pizza delivery leaflet downstairs. They have some promotions on.”

  “Lead the way.”

  I followed him back down the stairs of his modest home, towards the living room. As well as the poor state my brother was in, I also noticed the house was a mess. Rubbish littered the floor, dirty clothes here and there and a funky smell hung in the air where, I guessed, the kitchen bin hadn’t been emptied for a while. David noticed the look on my face and, “Sorry for the mess. I’ve been meaning to give the place a clean. Just been busy.”

  “It’s cool. Honestly, it’s fine.”

  The living room wasn’t in a good state either; just as dirty as the rest of the house. There were mugs on the coffee table in the centre of the room that were growing mould. Plates were stacked up with half-eaten meals on them. The poor bastard had really fallen apart since the accident, not that I can blame him.

  He walked over to a stack of papers on the floor next to the three-piece settee. Using his foot to separate them from one another, he bent down and picked up the local pizza shop’s A5 leaflet, detailing their latest offers.

  “What do you fancy?” he asked. The way he asked the question made me realise he wasn’t going to be doing much of the eating. That’s not acceptable. He looks terrible with the weight falling off him. He needs to eat something.

  I looked back down to the stack of dirty plates and assorted mugs on the table and then back to the leaflet in his hand, crammed with pictures of tantalisingly freshly baked pizzas. Having seen the thick mould festering on the plates, I’ll be honest - I don’t fancy eating anything ever again.

  “You choose and place the order. I’ll start shifting some of this through to the kitchen,” I nodded towards the crockery.

  “It’s fine - I’ll do it later.”

  “Honestly not a problem.” I was doing it for my benefit just as much as his. I didn’t want to be staring down at whatever the hell was growing whilst trying to eat my dinner. No way. I gestured towards the leaflet in his hand with a nod of my head, “Just hurry up and place the order. I’m starving.” Before he could argue, I tossed him my mobile phone and then started collecting up the dishes. He didn’t try and stop me.

  I I

  I had nearly finished my large pizza, eating it straight from the box it was delivered in. Just as I had expected, David had barely touched his. Instead of eating it, he was just moving it from one side of the box to the other.

  “You need to eat something,” I told him. Jesus, I was sounding like our mother. Whenever we were feeling down - when growing up - she’d always tell us to eat. Eating would make you feel better as it would keep your strength up - supposedly. I wish mum were alive now to help me with David. Help me get him through this grief. I want to be here with him, I want to help but I have my own issues to deal with as selfish as that sounds. I can try and be the support for everyone but… It’s hard. Much easier if mum were here.

  She had died a few years back. There was nothing sinister. She had just never been the fittest person. I think it is fair to say no one had expected her to reach old age. When she had reached eighty, we were surprised.

  “You sound like mum!” David also noticed the similarity. At least he managed to crack a smile. A step in the right direction. He tossed the pizza box away from himself. “I’m not hungry.”

  “When was the last time you had a proper meal? A whole meal - not just a bite here and there. Whether I sound like mum or not, you need to eat something. Seriously.”

  “I told you - I’m not hungry
.”

  “Dave - you look like hell. You need to eat…”

  “Will you just fuck off already?!” he snapped - raising his voice. I stopped nagging and finished the last mouthful of my own pizza. David sighed, “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

  “Don’t mention.”

  “Can’t remember the last time I slept through the whole night. I didn’t mean anything.”

  “I told you - forget it. It’s fine. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  He smiled, “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way round?”

  He meant that he was supposed to be looking after me. His duty as an older brother. He can be my rock later. God knows I will need him to be. I want to tell him. I want to get it off my chest but I can’t. Not yet. I have to keep it to myself. Let him deal with his grief first. Don’t overload him with this too.

  “So how’s the family?” David changed the subject.

  “They’re good.”

  David looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not stupid. There’s something you’re not telling me.” He always did know when I was lying.

  “Everything is good. Honest.”

  “Come on, it’s me. Something’s wrong - what is it?”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to talk about this. Not now.

  “Luke. What is it?”

  Distraction might do him some good? Give him something else to focus on.

  “Jane asked me for a divorce.”

  David didn’t say anything. He was just sitting there, looking at me with a stunned expression on his face.

  “Yesterday in fact. I didn’t want to say anything because you had enough going on with your life. You didn’t need this too.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “No need to say anything.”

  “I’m sorry. I honestly thought everything was great between you two.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I had thought everything was good between us too - right up until the moment she had turned to me and said that she wanted to leave me. I had asked her why but she wouldn’t go into it. She had just said we would talk when I got home. Part of me had wanted to stay there, talk it through with her and try and fix things but I had to come and see my brother; stand by him for the funeral. There was no one else, not immediate family anyway and - in times like these - that’s exactly what you needed.

  I tried to put a brave face on, “I’m sure everything will be fine.” When Jane had told me that she wanted a divorce, her face had been expressionless like the words coming from her mouth had no meaning behind them. No feeling. I had never seen her like that before and it had worried me. Putting a brave face on now and telling my brother that everything would be fine couldn’t be further from how I envisioned this ending. She had said she wanted a divorce - for why I do not know - and the way she had said it, it had been clear that she meant it. I would fight for her, the mother of my child, but - with how she had spoken to me - I’m not sure if it’s a battle I will win. Not in the long-run.

  “If you need to go…”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I cut him off in mid-sentence. I knew he would feel guilty about me being here. It was written all over his face once the initial shock had disappeared.

  “I just hate the idea of you being here with that hanging over your head.”

  “It’s fine. The break apart will probably do us some good anyway,” I changed the subject, “I’m not here to talk about what’s going on at home.” I took a moment to catch a breath before continuing, “Everything ready for tomorrow?” A series of car horns started blasting down the street beyond the front window loud enough to distract my brother and I from our conversation. “What the hell is that? Neighbours throwing a party?” I got up from the sofa and walked over to the window, looking out into the street - the night illuminated by both the moon and the well-lit street.

  “See anything?”

  “Well - something is happening!”

  Two coaches were parked up in the street. Both of them sounding their horns noisily in turn. I turned back to my brother and asked, “This kind of thing normal?”

  “What kind of thing?” David got up and walked over to the window and stood next to me. “No. This is all new,” he said. We both stood there a moment, watching, as people came out of their homes, most of them being directed by people in military uniforms. “What the fuck is going on out there?”

  A man hurried up David’s own drive and started banging on the door. Both David and I went to see what the commotion was about, with David opening the door himself.

  “Can I help you?” he asked the official looking man.

  Chapter Five

  David and I were sitting towards the rear of the bus watching out of the windows as we left his street behind, unable to grab anything before being taken away. Other passengers were in a similar state of confusion. Hushed voices, panicked chattering. All we were told was that we had to leave and we had to do so immediately. We tried to get answers from the soldier dragging us from the house but he just kept saying that there wasn’t time to explain. Before we managed to get into an argument, he was already banging on the next door, repeating what he had told us to that neighbour too.

  Some passengers were crying; a couple of the women but mostly children - scared and confused, wondering what the hell was going on. Couldn’t blame them either - none of this felt right.

  I was trying to listen to a conversation towards the front of the bus between an elderly man and a soldier who was standing guard, next to the silent driver. The soldier was saying over and over that the reason we were being dragged away was classified. Fucking classified? We’re being taken away, told to leave everything and we don’t even get to know why? That’s bullshit.

  “Well when can we go home?” the old man asked.

  “Few hours. Maybe a day.”

  An answer that I don’t think anyone believed - especially David who suddenly spoke up, “It’s my wife’s funeral tomorrow. I need to be here.”

  I’m not sure if David’s voice was lost amongst the other voices all suddenly calling out in protest as to what was going on or whether the soldier simply chose to ignore him but I had my suspicions. There was no way we were going to be coming back in time for the funeral. His own wife’s burial.

  “Did you hear me?” David wanted an answer. “It’s my wife’s fucking funeral tomorrow!” David stood up, not that he could get into the aisle with me seated between him and it.

  “Sir, please watch your language and remain seated!” The soldier heard him that time.

  “Not until you tell us what is going on!” David’s face was red. The grief he had been feeling was quick to turn to anger. His eyes filling with tears at the thought of not being able to say goodbye to Helen because… Because why? “What the fuck is going on?”

  Children were sobbing loudly now. I understood David’s frustrations and anger - as well as those felt by the other people on the bus, myself included - but he was scaring the already frightened children. This wasn’t helping an already tense atmosphere.

  “We want to speak to someone in charge!” the old man at the front got involved again, shouting over the crying children and other concerned murmurings.

  “Okay everyone needs to calm down. I am simply following orders. I am sure further details will be given when we reach the boats.”

  “Boats?” another voice piped-up - shocked. I hadn’t missed the word either. A cock-up on the soldier’s part. “What fucking boats?” A large man towards the middle of the bus stood up and stepped into the aisle. “You need to tell us what the fuck is going on, right now!” He took a step towards the soldier who responded by pulling out a handgun and aiming it towards the man.

  What the hell?

  “Sit down!” the soldier ordered the man who - unsurprisingly - did as he was told. “Everyone just shut up. When we get to the boats, further details will be given.”

  “Just stop the bus and let us off!” David shoute
d.

  “I can’t do that. Trust me - we are doing this for your own safety.”

  “Our own safety? What the fuck is this about?” I pulled David down to his seat before he had a gun pointed at him too. “Get the fuck off me!” he hissed.

  “We just need to be patient. The answers will come. This guy - he probably doesn’t even know the reason this is happening. It’s probably above his pay grade. Shouting and screaming isn’t going to help,” I tried to reassure him. To my surprise he responded by breaking down into tears. I put my arm around him and held him tight. “Everything is going to be fine,” I told him despite not knowing whether it would be or not.

  “It’s her funeral tomorrow,” he said over and over again.

  “I know and we’ll be back in time for it. At the moment, we just need to sit tight though.” I didn’t release him from the embrace. I kept him there, my arm around him. I noticed a middle-aged woman sitting opposite us. She was watching with deep sympathy in her eyes. She gave me a half-smile. I gave one back to her. “Everything will be okay,” I told both David and the watching woman. “Everything will be okay.”

  I I

  David was asleep. Exhaustion had finally caught up with him. His head resting on the window occasionally knocking against it when the bus went over a bump. Must be tired - not even stirring.

  “What do you think is going on?” the woman sitting opposite me asked in a hushed voice. I shrugged. She was with what I presumed was her child, a young lad. He was asleep too. “He’s scared.”

  “I’m sure everything will be okay.” It was hard to say that. There were so many people on this bus - all of them scared - but I couldn’t stop thinking about my own family back at home. Whatever was happening outside… Did it stretch down to where I lived? Was there another bus - down South - with my family sitting on it, scared about what was going on? Hard to reassure strangers when I have that on my mind.

  I had asked David for my phone before he had fallen asleep. Thankfully he’d put it in his pocket after calling for the pizza. Sadly, though, there was no network coverage. I reached into my pocket, where I’d put it, and checked again - still nothing.