The End: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Matt Shaw

  “Wait! Don’t hit me!” I yelled out - hands still raised up defensively. “I meant no harm. I thought the house was empty. I thought I was alone. I’m sorry!” I carried on with the verbal diarrhoea in the hope I’d say something that proved I wasn’t a threat, “I’m just trying to get home to my family. I’ve been walking through the country-side, came across this estate and thought it was abandoned like everywhere else. I didn’t know people were still living here. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. If you’d just let me gather my belongings, I’ll leave. There’ll be no trouble. There’s no need for this.” I paused to take a breath. The stranger lowered the bat. A look on his face though that suggested he’d be more than capable of using it should I try anything funny. With that in mind, I didn’t bother lowering my hands. I kept them high in the air so they knew I wasn’t reaching for a hidden weapon - not that I had anything close to hand.

  Rookie mistake. Gotten too used to the luxury and feeling of normality.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked. Even his wife was quiet now.

  “My name is Luke.”

  “Well, Luke, would you mind awfully - getting the fuck out of our bed?”

  Hands still raised, I slowly climbed from the bed and backed away from the couple a little - just in case things were to kick off again. I wanted distance between myself and the baseball bat.

  “Put your hands down. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  “Honey…” his wife tried to argue with him.

  “It’s fine,” he reassured her.

  “I mean no harm,” I chipped in. “I’m sorry. I really am. Had I known the house was occupied, I never would have entered it. I thought everywhere had been abandoned.” I continued, “Like I said, if you just let me gather my things - I’ll be out of your way before you know it.”

  “Where are you going?” the man asked. I’m not sure if he cared or whether he was just making sure I really was moving on and had no intention of staying put. There was no reason to lie.

  “Home. I’m just trying to get home to my wife and child.” Slowly I started to lower my guard. People who have ideas about hurting other folk don’t tend to take the time to talk to them first. They usually just strike. I wasn’t one hundred percent safe but so long as I didn’t try anything - and I had no plans to - everything would be okay. There was no need for this to turn nasty. I carried on talking to fill the silence, “I was evacuated with the promise they would be too but my wife never arrived at the camp. I kept asking about her as more people kept arriving but - nothing. Some of the soldiers said that there were people who refused to leave their homes and actively hid, or ran from the soldiers. They said my wife could have been one of those people or that she’d already been killed by the radiation. I had to see for myself. I came back on one of the boats that were headed over here for clean-up duty.”

  “You think she is alive?”

  “I’m hoping.”

  At the camp, I had been asking after her using both her married name and her maiden name in case she had reverted back to using that - her mind dedicated to the idea of being single again. Although I would have preferred her to be safe, at the camp, I was also a little glad not to have found her using her maiden name.

  “You came back too?” I asked the suspicious strangers hoping they’d lower their guard down further. The calmer they were, the safer I was.

  “Never left.” The man changed the subject, “We’re going downstairs to get some breakfast. You’re welcome to join us before you leave.” He turned and walked towards the door where his wife was still standing, watching. He paused and looked back to me, “I don’t know you, do I?”

  “No.”

  “And I have no reason to trust you?”

  “No.”

  “Yet I’m doing exactly that. I am trusting you against my better judgement. Please don’t make me look a fool.” He paused a moment before finishing, “And please don’t make me use my bat.” He tapped it against the wall as though to demonstrate how strong it was. He nodded; his point made. “We’ll be downstairs.”

  Chapter Eight

  I walked into the kitchen having smartened myself up as much as I could. I had wanted to take a shower but - given the fact that the owners were home - it seemed inappropriate. A look in the bedroom mirror and I still looked like hell and yet these two people still were treating me as another person, and not an intruder. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had it been the other way round; me finding them in my house after they had broken in. I doubt I would have been as hospitable but then - I’d seen so much since coming back to the country.

  “Take a seat,” the man was sitting in the corner of the room at a small table. His wife was cooking on a camping stove. Hot food cooking. The room smelled amazing and I couldn’t hide the fact my stomach was rumbling. Quickly, I walked over and took a seat opposite the man. “Eggs okay, I hope.”

  “I’m afraid I broke a picture yesterday…” I confessed.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You make a habit of that? Breaking into people’s houses and smashing things?”

  “I thought it was empty.”

  “And that makes it better? It’s someone’s memories.”

  “It was an accident.”

  It was clear from his expression he didn’t believe me.

  “Eggs okay?” Thankfully he changed the subject.

  “I can’t pay you,” I told him, suddenly feeling even more awkward.

  “Didn’t ask for money.” The man laughed, “What would we do with it anyway?”

  Fair point.

  The wife slid a plate down onto the table in front of where I was sitting and fetched the pan she had been cooking with.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope over-easy are okay.” She came back over to the table with the frying pan. She scooped one egg onto my plate and one egg onto the man’s plate before walking back to the camping stove and cracking another egg into the pan. One for us and - cooking now - one for her. Her husband passed me his knife and fork and then got his own from a nearby drawer before sitting down once more.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked. It had been so long since I had seen friendly faces, I found it hard to trust them. Since being back in this country - when I thought I had met new friends, it had turned out they were playing an angle. If these two wanted something from me, if there was something I had to do for them - I’d sooner know up front. More than that, I’d rather be given a choice.

  “We’ve all been dealt a harsh enough blow with how things turned out. You look like you’re going through hell. Why be horrible for the sake of it? You treat us with respect, we’ll do the same for you. You mess with us…”

  “I’m not going to.”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  He didn’t need to say it.

  His wife sat down next to him with her own plated egg. She started to eat, all the time avoiding eye contact. Clearly she wasn’t as trusting as her husband.

  “You two aren’t sick? I mean, you never left. We were told that the whole area was contaminated.”

  “Not so far,” the man answered in a matter of fact tone. “Who knows whether our lifespan has been reduced though. Time will tell but - so far - we feel okay.” He changed the subject back to me - each of us trying to work the other out. “How come your wife didn’t go with you?”

  “I was with my brother when we were moved on. Things got violent; a riot broke out between the people being moved and the soldiers. I was caught in the middle of it. Knocked out cold and when I woke - I was already on the boat. Over at the camp, I kept checking in with registration. They kept telling me the same thing again and again - they were still bringing people over. I kept hoping that my family would be on the next boat.”

  “And they weren’t.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s when I was told some people made a conscious effort to hide from the soldiers. Peo
ple refusing to leave their homes. I started to panic that she could have been one of them.”

  “Five years have gone by. That’s a long time.”

  I tried to not get upset but I struggled. My eyes welled up at the thought of my family being alone that whole time. Was she just being stubborn and refusing to leave or was she waiting for me to get back to her - scared that, if she left, she might never see me again?

  She wanted to divorce you.

  “I tried to come back sooner. It’s not exactly a case of jumping on the next boat, you know?”

  “What are they like? The camps I mean,” the woman said.

  The way she asked the question, I couldn’t help but wonder whether it had been her husband’s choice to stay behind and that - actually - she had wanted to go with the rest of the evacuees. Forgetting the invisible killer soiling the land, they had it much better here. The camps were cramped and not what had been promised. There were large fields with hundreds and thousands of tents all lined in a row as far as the eye could see. The place was both stunning to see and yet also heartbreaking. These were all of the people forced from their homes and - apparently - there were more and more fields like the ones I had seen. I hadn’t disbelieved the person who had told me this. After all, there had to be more to house a whole country.

  We were told, back when we first had arrived, that it would be temporary. They told us that houses were being erected for us and that - one day - we’d be issued them. No one told us how it would be decided who would move in and at what stage just that, one day, it would happen. In the years I had been in the tents, I hadn’t seen anyone move out. Not a single damned family.

  “They’re not what we were promised,” the quick answer. I could sense the husband’s relief. He probably worried that I’d report back that they were amazing and that we were well looked after but we really weren’t. Messy port-a-cabins that were rarely cleaned and the same food day in and day out. It was more like a prison camp.

  “So you’re not here to find your family and then take them back then?” the husband asked.

  I shook my head again, “We’re not allowed back. Once contaminated - we’re stuck here. The boats come, they’re sending cleaning crews to try and fix what they can here but… Yeah… Anyone from here who tries to go back, they’re shot on sight.”

  “What?” The wife looked shocked.

  “Did they even tell you what caused it?”

  Another shake of my head.

  “They’re just shooting people?” his wife asked me to confirm.

  I nodded, “You need to understand that people who kicked off over at the camps… Those who weren’t settling down and were causing more trouble for the others… They were forced back onto the boats and sent back over here. When the soldiers shoot on sight, they don’t think of shooting people such as yourselves - the people who have changed their mind and want to get on the boats now… They’re shooting trouble-makers who are trying to get back to the camps realising they were better off over there.”

  “You came over here knowing you can never go back?” the man asked. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Even if it wasn’t… My family is here.”

  “Look, we don’t have a lot, you can take the car. It has a full tank of petrol and should start okay. It’s been stored in the garage and I’ve been making a point of starting it up every couple of days to ensure the battery stays working. It might not be the best runner after all this time but it should get you where you need to be.”

  “I can’t take your car.”

  “You’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you. We don’t need it. We have everything we need close to the house. A couple of days trek at worst. There was a point where we thought about heading to the docks to see if there was a way out now but… Well, you said it yourself, there’s nothing for us there.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you will suffice.”

  “Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.” I changed the subject, “Listen - there’s other people out there. People walking across country like me. They’re not all good. You can’t trust anyone. I mean, thank you for trusting me and even helping me but… These other people won’t hesitate to hurt you even if they have no real need to.” I hesitated a moment, “I guess I’m saying - just watch yourselves.”

  The man smiled, “We can look after ourselves but thank you.”

  I don’t think he believed me about how dangerous these people were but there wasn’t anything else I could do for them. I couldn’t stay here and help defend their property when trouble came - and come it would. I had to keep moving on. And then it struck me, a thought out of nowhere.

  “What if we came back here? My family and I? We could move in to one of the empty houses on the street? Maybe look out for each other. Be company for each other should it be required? It’s a lonely world out there and it might be nice to make it a little less lonely.” I added, “And it means I can return the car.”

  The husband looked at his wife. She nodded. He turned back to me, “Sure. That would be good.”

  I I

  The garage door opened and inside - covered by a sheet - was the car I had expected to see. The man walked in and pulled the sheet off, tossing it into the corner of the room. The car itself wasn’t anything fancy - an old Ford Focus - but it was certainly better than walking on foot, especially as the grey clouds above were threatening heavy rain.

  “I feel funny about this,” I told the man.

  “Nothing to feel funny about. As you said, you’re coming back. Just make sure you don’t scratch it and try and return it with a full tank of fuel.” He looked at me and must have realised I thought he was being serious. “I’m joking with you. Just get to your family and find them safe.”

  “I feel embarrassed to say this but I don’t even know your name.”

  The man extended his hand, “Morgan. My wife’s name is Elise.” I told him my own name as we shook.

  “And thank you for restoring my faith in humanity. I’d about given up.”

  “Wait!” Elise called out from the front of the house. She stepped out into the garage with a carrier bag in her hand. I could see from the car that it was full of food taken from their own cupboards. “Something for the road,” she said. She handed it to me when she was close enough. I gratefully took it.

  “Thank you.” I felt embarrassed that I could offer them nothing in return for their generosity. Yesterday I had come with nothing, even my hope was all but gone and yet - now - I had food, a vehicle and a reignited sense of hope. With a car - the journey time would be cut right down and - finally - after all these years dreaming of being home… I was almost there. “I don’t know what else to say. I wish I had something to give you in return.”

  “There’s no need,” Morgan said. “Just get back to your family.”

  I nodded and smiled. My eyes - once again - filling with tears.

  Hope. What a wonderful feeling.

  B E F O R E

  Chapter Nine

  I was standing next to the bus with my brother. We had been here four years now - neither one of us wanting to be here but unable to get away due to the strict border controls they held over us. We might have been here because our country had been destroyed but it was clear that the Americans didn’t want us on their land - at least, not unmonitored anyway. To them, we were nothing but a nuisance, one to be looked after - taking up valuable land and resources they’d have preferred use for their own people. Like we had asked for this.

  “They said you can’t come back. You’re sure about this?” my brother was asking me whether I was absolutely certain that I wanted to leave. I was. One hundred percent. I had been sure from the moment I had landed here. I had not asked to get on that boat. I had never asked to be brought here. It wouldn’t have been that bad had my family arrived like the soldiers had promised but they never had. They had to still be over in England and all I could think about was that they were there waiting
for me. I wanted to get back to them. I needed to get back. Four years I had been trying to get them to send me back. Four miserable fucking years. “What if you can’t find them?” he asked.

  “I have to look. They’re my family.”

  “So am I.”

  “I know. And you know I will always love you but… If they’re over there, stuck, because they are waiting for me - I’d never forgive myself. You know I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for this.”

  “I know. I just…” He paused a moment before continuing, choosing his words carefully, “I just selfishly hoped they’d never let you. You’re my baby brother and I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me. I’ll be over there with my wife and kid.” My eyes watered at the thought of them - and the thought of seeing them again. Four years. My son would be six now and my wife… I tried not to think about it. Not yet. There’s so much to do before I am home with them. I need to stay focused on what needs to be done. Concentrate on the journey ahead of me.

  “I can come.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “I want to.”

  “No you don’t. You know there’s nothing over there. But here… Hopefully they’ll move you to your permanent home soon and you can start again. Meet someone new and…”

  My brother shot me down fast, “I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

  “You need to move on. Four years, Dave.”

  “I know how long it has been. Four years since we left her rotting in the fucking funeral home,” he hissed - his voice immediately irritable.

  We both fell into an uncomfortable silence. He probably felt bad for lashing out verbally, or he was waiting for an apology, and I just didn’t know what to say without setting him off worse. It had been four years. I felt bad for him, yes, but he needed to move on. Helen would have wanted him to do so. It’s not as though he left her there because he wanted to. He didn’t have a choice and he’d been tormenting himself about it ever since. Regardless - this isn’t how I wanted to leave it between us. Not when there was a chance we would never speak to each other again. I loved my brother - I loved him a lot - but I couldn’t ask him to come back with me. Not into the contaminated zone. Not back to the country where he’d been forced to abandon his dead wife. The whole time he was over there, he’d only be thinking about her. He might even try and get back to the funeral home where she had been left. He didn’t need to see her like that. It wouldn’t be good for him.