The End of All Things

by Lissa Bryan

  Justin took the cooked rabbit off the spit and cut it up on their plates before adding a helping of canned corn from the simmering pot. “Bon appétit.”

  “Merci beaucoup,” Carly replied.

  “Parlez-vous français?” He sounded a little surprised.

  “I took it for two years in high school. What about you? I know you took Arabic, but do you speak anything else?”

  Justin shrugged. “A couple of others.”

  Hearing that made Carly feel a little better. Apparently Justin was one of those people who made everyone around them look dumb by comparison. Carly speared a piece of rabbit with her fork and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened. “This is delicious!”

  “You sound surprised,” he said. She’d noticed that his eyes crinkled at the corners when he teased and it always made her smile too.

  “I know it’s one of those stereotypes, but it really does taste like chicken.”

  “It’s the secret ingredient.”

  “What’s that?”

  Justin lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close. “Salt.”

  Carly giggled and gave his shoulder a playful swat.

  He glanced over at the book she’d left lying open on top of her sleeping bag. “A bilingual girl who reads Pynchon for fun.” He shook his head in amusement. “Why didn’t you go off to college, Carly?”

  “I took some classes at the local branch campus. The thing is, I could never figure out what I wanted to do. I was happy where I was, and honestly, it didn’t seem worth it. My dad really wanted me to go, which is why I took the classes. Mom took my side and said I shouldn’t have to go if I didn’t want to, but Dad said he wanted more for me than being the manager of a souvenir shop and getting married to some guy who ran a fishing charter, or something. I felt like I let him down in that respect.” She took another bite and chewed it while she wondered about Justin’s education. As smart as he was, he would probably shrug and say he had a double doctorate in Sanskrit and particle physics. “What about you, Justin? Did you go to college?”

  “No.”

  Carly waited for him to elaborate but all he did was finish his food and take his plate over to the bucket to wash it. She finished her last few bites and brought him her plate as well. Justin washed them, and Carly silently dried them and put them back into the backpack where he stored their cooking and eating gear.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Carly caught a glimpse of his dark eyes as he glanced up at her. “For what?”

  “It seems that’s a sore subject with you, and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s not a sore subject, and I’m not upset. I just . . . didn’t go, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Justin puffed out an exasperated breath. “All right. The real reason is I don’t read all that well.”

  She blinked in surprise. She’d seen him reading books once or twice, and he played Scrabble like a champ.

  “Most of the books I’ve ‘read’ were audiobooks on my MP3 player. Since the Crisis, I’ve been trying to force myself to pick up reading books again since the batteries won’t last forever. I was almost hoping it was something I’d outgrow, but apparently I’m stuck with it.”

  She hoped she wouldn’t offend him by asking, since he seemed to be sensitive about it, but her curiosity was irrepressible. “Is it dyslexia or something like that?”

  Justin nodded.

  “Wow, you must be brilliant!” Carly blurted.

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “To have learned all of those languages without being able to read them to study? That’s amazing.”

  Justin’s face slowly split into a grin. “Carly, you’re amazing. That has to be the first time anyone has ever been impressed I’m dyslexic.”

  “And you’re one hell of a Scrabble player, too. You bet I’m impressed.” She supposed the plainly-inscribed letters on the tiles would be easier to distinguish than those printed in a book, but it must have been quite a feat to memorize the spelling of words without being able to always see them properly.

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Carly.”

  Carly blushed fiercely and her cheek tingled where his lips had brushed it. She didn’t know what to make of him sometimes, whether he was teasing or flirting, whether little gestures like his hugs and this kiss on the cheek were meant to be platonic. Maybe he was just an affectionate guy.

  She was grateful for the distraction of putting away the rest of their cooking supplies and the entertaining spectacle of watching Justin climb a tree to hang their non-canned food from a high limb to keep the bears out of it.

  “But wouldn’t the bears have died from the Infection, too?”

  “Yeah, just like the horses and the wolves. With the way you draw animals, I’m not taking any chances that the only bear left in the Yukon will find us. And before you ask—no, we’re not adding a bear to our motley crew.”

  Carly laughed, changing into her pajamas behind a tree while picturing a bear napping beside Sam in front of the fire. She felt the need for a shower, or at least a wipe down, but didn’t feel as if her location was private enough for that, and she wasn’t about to wander off into the woods by herself at night. They unrolled their sleeping bags in the tent. Funny how it had seemed so much larger before they were both confined in its space.

  Carly called for Sam, and he spun around in circles before settling on the foot of her sleeping bag with a sigh. Justin zipped it up and lay down on his own sleeping bag, instead of inside it. She wondered why, but decided not to question it. For all she knew, it was one of those survival things that would make her look stupid again for not knowing it. He didn’t use a pillow, either, though Carly had one taken from the hotel in Skagway. He put his handgun on the tent floor behind his head and his big hunting knife under the edge of his sleeping bag beside him. “Sleep well, Carly.”

  “Good night.” Carly snuggled down into her pillow.

  Chapter Three

  “I can do this,” Carly said to herself. “I can. It’s just a matter of willpower. Keep pushing. We’re almost there. I can do this.”

  Her calf muscles burned with exhaustion, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. Carly leaned forward and pushed. The bike wobbled beneath her. She pushed down with the other leg. “Come on. Come on . . .” She was going at a slower-than-walking pace. Justin turned to look at her, and that’s when Carly lost her balance and toppled over. The bike clattered on the pavement, and she scraped her palms when she landed. Fortunately, she was wearing her jeans, so her knees were protected.

  Flushed with embarrassment, Carly climbed to her feet.

  Justin hopped off of his own bike and came over to help her up. “Let me see your hands.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Carly, let me see.” His voice was low and coaxing, which made her feel even more foolish for objecting, but she just wanted to get back on her bike and forget about it. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Even a small scrape is nothing to fuck around with now. If you get an infection . . .”

  “Justin, it didn’t even break the skin. I’m fine.”

  “Sit down,” he coaxed. “Come on. Please?”

  With a sigh of exasperation, Carly did as he asked. Justin took her hands in his and examined her palms.

  “See? No big deal.”

  “They should still be cleaned, just in case.”

  “Fine,” she said with ill grace. “If it means that much to you.”

  He went to the wagon and brought back a bottle of peroxide. She stretched out her arms and let him pour a stream of it over her wounds. She hissed at the sting; maybe it was deeper than she thought.

  “Your knees?”

  “Will you believe me if I say I’m fine?” she asked with a small smile.

  “Probably not. And anyway, it gives me a chance to check out your legs.”

  Carly giggled and pulled up the hem of her jeans daintily, like a Victorian
maiden displaying a bit of ankle. “Seen enough?”

  He grinned at her and pushed up the cuff to her knee to examine the bruised skin there. “Better check the other one, just to be on the safe side.”

  She pulled up the leg. “There. Satisfied?”

  “Oh, honey, the jokes I could make with that one . . .”

  Carly blushed and wondered, not for the first time, if he was flirting with her a little. But then again, knowing him, it could be something to take her mind off unpleasant topics, like how she was going to get up the stupid mountain.

  “Why don’t we walk?” he asked. He sounded relaxed and casual, as though the slower speed didn’t bother him a bit, but then again, as slow as she’d been pedaling, walking would probably be faster. “Toss your bike in the wagon.”

  She didn’t want to give up. She hated looking weak and helpless in front of him, but she had to admit to being tapped out. “Maybe we can walk for a little bit.”

  “Sounds good.” He helped her to her feet and put her bike in the wagon.

  “Why won’t you hook that thing up to Shadowfax?”

  “We don’t know what kind of training she’s had. Give her a little time.”

  “You’re afraid she’ll run off with our stuff?”

  “It’s always a possibility.”

  Carly hitched up her jeans. Even with the belt Justin had made for her by cutting down one of his, her jeans were too loose and kept drooping down to her hips. But as Justin thought they would reach White Pass today, he wanted her to wear her gun. She wore the rectangular nylon holster pouch with the .22 inside clipped to her belt, and she was always aware of its somber weight against her hip. She was nervous carrying a loaded gun around with her, but Justin said he wanted her to get used to wearing it.

  “Do you think I hurt the gun?” she asked. The woven nylon of the pouch was scuffed from her fall.

  Justin’s eyes sparkled, but his voice was solemn as he answered. “Nah. They’re tough.”

  “I really wish I didn’t have to wear it.”

  “Remember, I told you we’re bound to run into other survivors,” he said. “Some of them might not be nice people. The law is dead, Carly. We’re in the jungle now, and the only law is survival of the strongest.”

  “Why did you bring me, then? I’m not one of the strongest. All I’m doing is weighing you down.”

  He grinned at her. “I keep picking up trade goods. I bet I could get at least a dozen cans of ravioli for you.”

  “That’s it?” She pretended to be offended. “I would think a case, at least.”

  He shrugged. “Well, you can’t cook. That brings down the price a bit. And you talk in your sleep.”

  “I do not!” she said, indignant.

  “Then how do I know you dreamed of french fries last night?”

  Carly fell silent. Well, maybe she did talk in her sleep. She tried to remember all of the dreams she’d had since they’d begun sleeping in close proximity, hoping she hadn’t babbled about anything embarrassing.

  “Oh? No witty retort? Don’t leave me hanging.”

  She said nothing. Her cheeks felt hot.

  They were silent for a few minutes until he glanced over at her. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he told her. “I think you’ve just been dumped into a situation you weren’t prepared for. Now that you know what we’re up against, I’m absolutely confident you’ll rise to the challenge. I’ve seen weakness, Carly. And you’re not weak.”

  Carly didn’t look at him. She appreciated the kindness, but she didn’t entirely believe him. He was just being nice about it. Carly knew she didn’t contribute anything of value. She kicked a rock lying in their path and sent it skittering across the pavement. Sam gave a joyful bark and chased it. They’d played a lot of games of fetch when he was smaller and could be exercised by running back and forth across her little apartment. He brought her back the slobber-covered rock, and she patted him. She threw it overhand, and he bolted after it.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  How did he do that? Sometimes it seemed as though he could read her mind. “I think you’re trying to be nice.”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think you were a survivor. You’ll surprise yourself, Carly. Mark my words.”

  They stopped for lunch at noon, judging by the position of the sun. Carly didn’t feel all that hungry, but Justin insisted she eat to build her stamina. Their current meal was cold spaghetti rings from the can by the side of the road. Carly watched Sam try to coax Shadowfax into a game of chase, but the horse still didn’t cotton to the idea of being chased by a wolf. It brought up her instinctual fears. He nipped at her forelegs a couple of time, and Carly saw a big “trouble brewing” sign flash above them. Before she could swallow her bite of cold pasta, Justin called Sam to come over and lie down beside them before he made Shadowfax nervous enough to lash out with one of her hooves. Carly gave him a tentative smile. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one Justin was looking out for.

  Late in the afternoon, they finally arrived at the summit of White Pass and the border between the U.S. and Canada. Cement barriers, like those on the bridge, had been erected to block traffic, and a line of cars sat on both sides. Tattered flags flapped on the poles mounted on the rocky summit. Carly was disappointed. “I thought there would be something here.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Tourist shops or something. A building of some kind.” Not just a tiny log shack that held maintenance supplies. It wasn’t even large enough for them to sleep in with all of the stuff crammed inside, and they were too tired to even consider hauling it out.

  “I learned in history class there used to be border guards who stayed out here to check to make sure each man had the required ton of supplies before allowing them to pass.”

  Justin glanced at their wagon. “Puts it in perspective, doesn’t it?”

  She stopped at the base of the flags. One more foot forward and she would leave Alaska for the first time and likely never see it again. She looked back over her shoulder for a long moment and was hit by the fleeting temptation to turn around and coast back down the mountain to Skagway. But she turned to face forward, to face the future, full of unknown perils and uncertainties. It was a long and winding road to an unknown destination, a road that would take courage to face. And she found she had that courage, the same courage her history teacher had said drove the gold miners onward when there was just a narrow trail through these mountains.

  Perhaps it was because the border was so anticlimactic, but Carly was much happier when Justin told her that night they would make it to Fraser the next day. “Seven miles, all downhill,” he said, and in the morning she was eager to go, wolfing down her eggs and coffee with gusto. She couldn’t have said why seeing buildings and some measure of civilization was so important to her, but she was excited to get moving.

  The downhill trek would have been more fun if Justin hadn’t been such a killjoy about her speed. He insisted she take it slow and easy, and Carly teasingly stuck her lower lip out at him. He reminded her that the animals couldn’t keep up such a pace, which convinced her to slow down.

  Justin gazed around them, his eyes wide as he took in the vista before them. “Carly, are you seeing this? It’s beautiful.”

  Carly had to admit she hadn’t noticed it. She’d grown accustomed to the majestic views, but she supposed someone from Omaha would find them incredible even if he had seen them once before on the way into the state. The awe on his face made her take another look at the jagged mountains over the sparkling water in the valley below, an image she engraved in her heart, knowing as she did, she was unlikely to ever see it again.

  Fraser had only about half a dozen buildings, including a corrugated metal customs hut in a repulsive shade of yellow-brown and a small collection of identical split-level houses for road crew workers. Beside the tracks stood a red clapboard railroad station with a train parked in front
of it. Carly nudged Justin with her elbow when they dismounted at the edge of town. “Can you drive one of those?” she challenged.

  “Nope, you got me,” he said with a grin. “Never had an occasion to drive a train.”

  “Yeesh, look at that thing.” Carly pointed to the strange, fan blade-like machine on the front of the train. Sam trotted around sniffing at the wheels.

  “I think it’s a snowplow for the tracks. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before.”

  He wandered over to look at it, and Sam bounded after him. Carly headed toward the train station. The door was unlocked and she walked inside the silent and stuffy building. A pair of restrooms was in front of her, and to the left a door led into the rest of the building. It creaked when she pushed it open, and she had only a moment to gather an impression of a large, dusty room with an office desk before a blinding pain slammed across her upper arm and back. She was knocked to the floor by the force of it and saw a man standing above her, holding a two-by-four. In her old life, he was the kind of man she would have asked for directions—a plump, pleasant-looking man in his mid-fifties wearing rimless glasses. But behind the lenses, his eyes gleamed with gleeful hate.

  “The black cowboy says you’re the seventh!” He drew out the “s” sounds with a snakelike hiss and swung the board down. Carly rolled, avoiding the blow, which would have probably crushed her skull. The man howled and dropped the board from the painful vibrations of striking the floor, and Carly scrambled to her feet to dart around the back of the desk. The man charged at her, and Carly grabbed the back of the office chair and slung it at him. He tripped over it as she had intended but regained his footing and lunged at her with an inhuman screech. “You won’t take my petals!”

  Sam burst through the door and used the top of the desk as a launch pad to pounce on the man with a vicious snarl. He sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder, and the man screamed in pain. He punched Sam in the side, and Sam went sprawling with a high-pitched yelp from the force of the blow. Carly fumbled at her belt and pulled the gun out of its holster. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning as the man surged to his feet and barreled at her. She pulled the trigger as fast as she could, nailing him with three shots to the chest. It didn’t stop his momentum; he plowed into Carly and knocked her flat on her back, landing on top of her with a bone-rattling thud.