The End: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Matt Shaw

  But then your family…

  An impossible position. What had I done to deserve this? I rubbed my eyes again. Okay, they’re as dry as they’re going to be. Re-read the letter and then laugh at yourself when you realise you took the whole thing out of context.

  I read.

  I I

  My dear, dear wife,

  When you died, I died. I haven’t been myself since I first had that phone call. My darkest-hour seems to have turned to the darkest-years. I kept hoping the feeling would pass but it isn’t going anywhere and - now - I know it never will. I feel like an empty shell and struggle to let people in. I certainly haven’t made any real friends here, keeping myself to myself when my brother isn’t around. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you stuck in that funeral home without the burial you deserve. Words cannot describe how my heart breaks when I think of the accident that cruelly claimed your life and then the fact that you do not even get to be buried. I am not a religious man yet I find myself worrying that you do not get to be at peace.

  Luke is insisting on leaving here to try and find his own family. I do not blame him and - in a way - I am relieved. I can stop pretending that everything is ‘sort of’ okay. I can stop trying to put a brave face on to stop him from stressing about how I am doing when it is clear his mind is also focused on his own wife and child. I’m going to ask him to find you and give you the burial you deserve. I know it is a big ask when he is desperate to get back to his family but I know he won’t let me down. You will get your final resting place, you will find your peace and - when you do find it - I will already be there waiting for you with open arms and the first real smile I’ve had on my face since before you were taken away from me.

  I love you Helen. Luke says I can move on, and that you would want me to, but I do not want to. I want to be with you, my one true love, and - knowing I will have nothing here for me other than the promise of a new home that I don’t want… Nothing is stopping me from coming to you.

  I cannot wait to see you again.

  Your loving husband,

  David

  x x x

  I I I

  I screwed the letter into a tight ball and screamed again. There was no mis-reading it. There were no possible misinterpretations. Now the only question going through my mind was whether he had managed to do it. Had he taken his own life? Another scream shattering the silence and stillness of my surroundings. I shouldn’t have left him. I should have stayed with him and ensured he was okay. I had known he was depressed, I had known he hated the thought of his wife being stuck in that home without a proper send-off but… I thought he had come to terms with it enough to at least try and move on from it; to know that it wasn’t his fault and that there was nothing he could do about it. Jesus. I had abandoned my brother and now - because of that - he’s potentially dead. Another scream of rage, frustration and bitter sadness. So many emotions mixed together, bubbling away within me that I don’t know what to do with myself.

  I jumped to my feet and charged the tree closest. Without thinking of the consequences, I started punching it again and again refusing to stop until my knuckles were bloody. Another scream as I fell back, sitting on the grass with tears streaming down my face unable to stop them and yet also unwilling.

  I killed my brother.

  I V

  I was sitting in the car staring out to where I had buried Helen. My eyes were sore from the crying and I was feeling weaker than usual. I’m not sure if that is because of the letter - the knowledge that my brother was probably dead - or whether it’s the first stages of radiation sickness. All this talk of England being contaminated and yet I still have no idea just how bad it is or what to expect from breathing the atmosphere in the long term. Sitting here, with everything so peaceful looking and calm, you couldn’t help but wonder whether the various conspiracy theorists at camp were right. There had been wild theories of there being no contamination problem over here. America just wanted the land for something so had claimed it, moving all of us out. Obviously it was bullshit but, even so… When everything looks normal, other than a general look of abandonment and being left to rot, your mind can’t help but wonder.

  The news of my brother has thrown me into a loop. I shouldn’t have read that letter. It wasn’t addressed to me. It was in a sealed envelope. It should have just been buried with Helen. I wasn’t supposed to know his plans. A secret between husband and wife. Not sure what to do now. On the one hand I want to carry on and find my family - at least make sure they’re okay - but on the other hand I want to head back to the docks and try and get back on the boats. Go back to the camp and see if David really did have the nerve to follow through with his threat. If he had I guess I could at least ensure he gets his own plot of land and isn’t thrown in one of the mass-graves I had heard about and - if he hadn’t - I could try and talk him out of it. Please God don’t let him have gone through with it.

  God? God is dead. Everyone is dead.

  Why am I even considering going back to the docks? They won’t let me back on the boat. They made it clear when I left that there’d be no way back due to contamination. I just need to try and put this behind me and move on with what I had intended to do but how do you move on from something like that when you know there will never be a chance for you to find out whether it had happened or not. Not knowing for sure somehow makes it worse.

  I keep trying to force it to the back of my mind. If I could just somehow push it to the back and not think about it, hopefully it would vanish with other long since forgotten thoughts and memories. But how do you forget something like that? How do you push your brother’s suicide to the back of your mind especially having only just learned about it. It’s not possible.

  The silence was starting to get to me now. I hit my bruised fist against the horn making it blare into the day beyond. Usually I try and keep as quiet as possible on the off-chance there are other people nearby but I don’t care anymore. I couldn’t give a shit if I lived or died. Think about it - even if she is okay… They are okay… For how long will that be the case? Are they already sick from the radiation? Are they even still alive? This world has nothing for me. There will be no happy endings whether I find them or not. My life ended the night I got on that bus. I should have refused. Both my brother and I should have refused.

  Refused? What choice had there been?

  We should have hidden or run out the back. Other people managed to stay hidden. We could have too. Then, the following morning - David could have buried Helen and we could have gone back for my own family.

  You didn’t know they hadn’t already been evacuated. That wouldn’t have worked.

  I screamed out of frustration again and - again - hit the horn.

  This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for any of this. No one did. What happened here? What was it that caused us to be taken from our day to day lives? Who is the real person to blame? Jesus. Why even think like that? It won’t do any good knowing. It makes no difference to the situation. This is the hand I have been dealt with now and I just need to pick myself up and carry on. I can’t give up. I need to push forward, find my family and salvage what I can from that. I can’t sit here torturing myself playing the ‘what if’ game. What if I had stayed with my brother at the camp? What if we had never left here? What if I had refused to leave my wife that night to go to David’s in the first place - demanding to talk to her about the divorce she wanted? What if I had been a better husband leading up to the divorce?

  A better husband? How could I have been a better husband? I loved Jane. Loved? Love. I love Jane more than anything else in this world. Had I not, I wouldn’t have been fighting non-stop to get back here to find her. I love her.

  I love her.

  I started the car’s engine. I love her and I know, despite what had been said, she loves me too. I’ve come this far with nowhere else to turn, if I can find her - I can fix this relationship. I can make us a family again. There might not be a happy ending in the
long-term but I can ensure, leading up to that, that they’re the best days of our lives. We will be a family again.

  There it is again; that little ray of hope.

  B E F O R E

  J A N E

  Chapter Fourteen

  The doctor’s room in the busy surgery wasn’t the biggest of rooms. Enough space in there for a small desk, with his computer, and a bed in the corner on which to inspect patients. There was a cupboard next to that filled with god only knows what and, standing in the other corner, a model of a human skeleton - something which Jane always found a little strange to be there. With regards to the space though, it felt smaller now than it had done before. In fact, Jane’s whole world felt smaller. A feeling that wasn’t helped with the nervous tightness in her chest and the sickly feeling in her stomach. Yet she had expected this. She knew the results were likely to be bad.

  “Are you okay?” the doctor asked - a stupid question considering the news he’d just given her. It was cancer and the initial tests had shown that it had spread. Further tests were required to see just how far it had gone but the prognosis - even at this stage - was looking bleak. “Did you want me to call anyone? Your husband?”

  Jane stammered, “No,” as she struggled to control her breathing.

  “Did you want to take a minute?” the doctor offered. Jane couldn’t decide if he was being genuinely concerned for her or whether he was aware time was escaping him and the appointment had already gone on longer than it should have, causing more of a back log of patients in the waiting room.

  “What happens now?” Jane asked fighting back the tears that were desperate to escape. Her thoughts weren’t of the Hell that was coming her way - the tests, the operations, the chemotherapy, the sickness and possibly the end - but rather they were of Harry, her son. He was two years old. He wouldn’t understand what was happening to his mum. He wouldn’t understand any of it. He’d just get to see her getting sicker and sicker and possibly - likely given the doctor’s expression - even die. No child, especially at that age, should have to see that. Jane suddenly burst out crying, “He’ll forget me,” she wept as she realised that, at this age, Harry would likely forget his mum. He’d grow up not knowing her and he’d end up calling someone else mummy when Luke met and married someone else. Oh God. And then there was that. Her husband - the man she loved - would find someone else and start a relationship with them. Sure enough it wouldn’t be an immediate thing, he would need time to grieve but… He’d still move on.

  The doctor pushed a box of tissues towards Jane. She took a handful and tried to compose herself as he watched on, sympathetic to what she was going through. It was never nice having to break bad news to people. Especially when they were as young as Jane. Thirty-three years old. She was of no age, certainly not old enough to be dealt with this blow yet it still happened.

  Jane tried to get back on track with the correct questions to ask, “So what happens now?” she asked, pretending as best as she could that the outburst had never happened.

  “Now we need to refer you for more tests. Before we can do anything we need to know just how far it has spread.”

  “But it’s not good is it? I mean… As far as cancer goes - this is serious, isn’t it?”

  “We need to run more tests to know for sure.” The doctor didn’t want to say whether it was serious or not. It wasn’t his place to at least - not until more tests had been conducted to see the extent of the cancer’s grip of her body. But the short answer, even before the rest of the tests were done, was that it wasn’t good and - yes - it was serious. They hadn’t caught it early and whatever happened next, Jane had a battle on her hands. A battle which wouldn’t be pleasant for her or her loved ones. “I’ll make the necessary referrals and you should hear back quite fast for the initial appointment…”

  “So it’s that bad then,” Jane laughed; more of a nervous laughter. She knew that if things moved forward fast, with the National Health Service, it meant it was serious. Otherwise they’d have her on some shitty waiting list for several months - at least. She quickly changed the subject, “How will I hear from them?”

  “They usually send a letter.”

  “But they won’t say who it is from on the outside, will they?”

  “There may be a return address for the hospital on the envelope, yes, but there wouldn’t be anything to say which ward it was from.” The doctor had understood why she asked. Clearly she wanted to keep all of this a secret from the rest of the house. “You should talk to your husband. You’re going to need support. He’s going to need to know about it. This isn’t something you can hide.”

  “I don’t want him knowing.”

  “There is a very strong possibility you’re going to need…”

  “I don’t want him knowing,” Jane repeated.

  The doctor didn’t push her. There wasn’t any point, she was already struggling to hold it all together. The last thing she needed was for someone to be pushing her in a direction she didn’t want to go. All that would happen was that he would end up pushing her away completely. He changed the subject back to what he could do for her in the short-term, “I’m going to write you a prescription for some pain-relief, okay?” He started typing up the script on his computer as Jane watched on, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Now you might feel some side effects…” His words started to mumble into a long stream of nonsense as Jane zoned out, her mind playing over and over again the moment the doctor had told her that it was cancer.

  Her mother had died from it and now it looked as though she was most likely going to be taken by it too. It wasn’t fair. She lived a healthy lifestyle. She didn’t smoke, she didn’t eat unhealthy foods, she worked hard at the gym at least three times a week… She didn’t deserve this but then, her mother had been the same.

  She started mentally berating herself, asking why she had left it so long to make the appointment. It was stupid. She had known what it was. She should have come straight down and she should have faced it. Had she done so, it might have been less of a battle on her hands. It might have had a happier ending then the one she was sure she was facing - not helped by the doctor’s glum expression.

  She tried to dismiss the thoughts from her mind. There was no point in playing the ‘what-if’ game. Jane just had to concentrate on the here and now. What she had to achieve in order to try and get better. Besides, the answer as to why she hadn’t come down sooner was obvious and didn’t need to be dwelled upon; she was scared. She had known what it was. She knew it had killed her mother and she knew there was a good chance she would die too and - even if she didn’t - she knew she had months and months of fighting on her hands and then the ugly shadow of the disease for the rest of her life. It was obvious why she wanted to bury her head in the sand and hope that it went away by itself, even if it was stupid.

  The printer chugged to life, snapping her back to reality. The doctor pulled the printed sheet from the machine and handed it over to Jane with that glum look on his face still, already annoying Jane. She didn’t want people looking at her like this. She didn’t want people changing how they spoke to her just because she was ill. They had done it to her mother and it had upset her too. So much so that, once, Jane had overheard her mum saying she wished she hadn’t told anyone. An overheard conversation that kept playing through her head now.

  She wished she hadn’t told anyone.

  I I

  Sitting in her car with the engine running, Jane hadn’t moved for the last five minutes. In her head she was wondering what she could say to Luke. He knew she had an appointment with the doctor today. He had come home from work early to ensure he could look after Harry whilst she went; to save her from having to juggle a two year old whilst listening to the doctor and explaining what was wrong.

  Jane didn’t want to go home. She couldn’t face looking at Luke or Harry. She couldn’t bear to see their faces as she desperately struggled to think of a different diagnosis the doctor could have given her.
<
br />   Viral infection?

  She couldn’t help but think it would have been so much easier had she been alone; no husband and no child, just her. At least that way she wouldn’t have to worry about their feelings or having to watch their expressions as her condition deteriorated over the course of the treatment. That was one thing she did remember from her mum’s battle. Before she started to get better, she looked as though she were Death warmed up. Even her skin changed colour and not forgetting the hair loss. And then - when she started to look better – she had just dropped dead out of the blue. Would Jane’s battle be similar? Would she start looking better, getting their hopes up? And then - with no warning - just keel over like her mum had? She couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t have them both love her only to be taken from their lives. It wasn’t fair.

  Leave them. Make them hate you.

  An idea started bubbling away in the forefront of her mind. If she stayed with them and the worst came to the worst, which she was sure it would, then they would be heartbroken when she died. They would take a while to get their lives back on track and they’d always miss her. That’s what she presumed anyway. But if she made her husband hate her? If she kicked him out, saying that she no longer wanted to be with him? He’d be upset to start off with but, after a while he would move on. Certainly easier to move on from that than knowing the person you loved (and lost) still loved you. If your partner hated you, you’d want to move on if only to make them feel jealous. It was a twisted logic but it worked in her head. She needed her husband to hate her. And she needed him to take Harry too… She couldn’t be left with their son. Not with the battle she had coming. She wouldn’t be able to care for him and herself and - even if she were - she knew he would still want to come around to see his son. And if he did that - he would see how ill she was. He would put two and two together. He’d know she had been lying and really did love him. And she did love him. So much so that the mere thought of this was tearing her apart inside but, given where she was, she figured it was her best option.