The End of All Things

by Lissa Bryan

  “Sorry, stranger, no one comes into our town but our own.”

  Justin nodded. “We’ll be on our way then.”

  The man’s head vanished for a moment and then reappeared. “My people want to know about your horses. Are you willing to trade for them?”

  “We’re willing to trade, but not for the horses.”

  “You sure? We could make it worth your while.”

  “I’m sure.”

  The man shrugged. “All right. Be on your way.”

  Dagny chose that moment to let out a wail. The man jumped, and his jaw dropped. “Is that a baby I hear?”

  Carly hopped up into the wagon and picked up Dagny. “There, there, Mommy’s here.”

  There was a woman’s soft cry, and a female face surrounded by blonde hair peered down over the edge. She said something to the man, and he called out, “Can you hold it up?”

  “She’s a baby, not a Super Bowl trophy,” Carly said indignantly.

  Both heads vanished back behind the wall and Carly could hear the rumble of voices. A few shouts. A woman yelled, “They have a baby with them! They’re safe!”

  The man’s face appeared above the fence again. “All right, we’re letting you in.” He didn’t sound welcoming, almost as if he were resigned to it.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go in there,” Stan said. He moved closer to Mindy and his hand drifted down to his belt, where a gun was holstered.

  “We’ll be fine,” Justin replied as he eyed the faces peering down at them from the top of the wall.

  “How do you know?” Stan asked.

  “Trust him,” Carly said before Justin could speak. “Justin has really good instincts about this kind of thing. He wouldn’t take us inside if it wasn’t safe.”

  “Look, Carly, Justin, I don’t mean any offense, but—”

  Justin cut him off and nodded toward the people who were gathering on top of the wall to look down at the strangers at their gates. “Look up there, Stan. What do you see? More importantly, what don’t you see?”

  Stan glanced up. “What am I looking for?”

  Carly was curious about that, herself. She saw nothing odd or out of place.

  “Guns,” Justin said. “Only one person has a firearm, and it’s a shotgun, not the ideal weapon for defending a wall. They must have no ammo left.”

  “Or, maybe they’re just keeping the guns in the town,” Stan suggested.

  Justin shook his head. “They’d want them up there, if they had them, at the first line of defense.”

  There was a chinking sound, like a chain being pulled, and the garage door in the center of the wall began to rise. They drove the wagon through the entrance, and the silence around them was unsettling. A large group of people stood on the other side of the gate, lining the road on both sides, and more crowded on the wood stairs that led to the top of the wall. It was so quiet Carly could hear the leather creak on Shadowfax’s harness. To her relief, she saw children among them and a few pregnant women.

  Shadowfax rumbled and tossed her head, unaccustomed to seeing so many people together. Carly understood the feeling. She held Dagny tightly and stayed near the spot where the gun was taped under the seat.

  They stopped, and the gate was lowered behind them. The people crowded around their wagon, but kept back a few respectful feet. Carly’s breath began to come faster as her anxiety rose.

  “Forgive the crowd’s curiosity.” Carly recognized the speaker as the older man from on top of the wall. He was on the slender side and tall, with gray stubble that lined his jaw. “You’re the first people we’ve let in since the Crisis, and yours is the first baby we’ve seen with any outsider. Name’s Tom Clark. This lovely lady is my wife, Cynthia.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Cynthia murmured. Her eyes were fastened on Dagny, as were her husband’s. The man stared at the baby as though he had never seen one before. His eyes flicked up to Carly. “Were any of you Infected?”

  “All immune,” Justin replied. “You’ve seen the baby. Now step away.”

  Sam sat up and gave a soft rumble to punctuate Justin’s words. Not a growl, but a rumble that made his point, nonetheless. The man noticed him for the first time and retreated, his eyes wide. “Is that a wolf?”

  “Yes,” Justin said, his tone curt. Tension tightened his shoulders, and Carly wanted to hug him. She could tell Justin wasn’t concerned for their safety as his hands hung loose at his sides, not hovering at the ready near his weapons. She supposed it was being around so many strangers and having so many people stare at his wife and baby that made him tense.

  “My God, he’s huge.”

  Carly scratched Sam behind the ears. “He’s getting big, aren’t you, boy?” Sam glanced back at Carly, and as she’d hoped, some of the wolf’s tension eased. It wouldn’t do them any good if Sam snarled and scared the people before they could trade and acquire permission to pass through their town and continue on their way.

  “Please, come to our house for a bit of refreshment,” Cynthia said, beckoning to them to follow her. Her smile was warm and friendly, as though she already knew them. It was striking after months of encountering nothing but wary travelers, bandits, or those whose minds had been burned away by the fever.

  Justin considered her offer and then nodded. Following Tom and Cynthia, who were strolling hand in hand like a pair of teenagers, they drove the wagon down the main street to a lovely powder blue Victorian on the corner, its porch in deep shade.

  “We can sit out here to watch your wagon,” Tom said. “None of my people would steal from you, but I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable keeping an eye on it.”

  Carly sat down in the wicker chair beside Justin. Tom and Cynthia took a seat on the porch swing. Carly noticed they were still holding hands, and Cynthia leaned her head against Tom’s shoulder with familiar affection.

  Stan sat down on the porch steps, and Mindy settled on the step below him. Stan drew her body back against his, and Carly saw him press a kiss against the top of her head. A young woman emerged carrying a pitcher of lemonade with slices of lemon bobbing at the top. She set the tray on the little wicker table and poured a glass for everyone.

  “Our daughter, Andrea,” Tom said. Andrea was shy, though, and all she did was give them a quick, blushing smile before she darted back into the house. Carly lifted her glass, and Justin nudged her. She knew what he meant. She waited until Tom and Cynthia had sipped from theirs.

  It was tart and sweet and cool. Everything a glass of lemonade should be. Carly sighed with bliss. All of their drinks on the road had been tepid due to the heat. “This is wonderful!”

  “There’s a cold spring trough in the basement,” Tom said. “Big old stone thing that looked like a bathtub. I never knew what it was for though, until Old Miz Marson told me they used to keep milk jugs in there to keep them cool. Just a matter of pulling out the plug to get it going again.”

  Justin took another sip of his lemonade before setting the glass on the table. “You said we’re the only ones you’ve let in since the Crisis?”

  Tom nodded. “When the first case of the Infection was reported nearby, we built the wall. Tommy Burton moved some of those containers with the crane from the junkyard. It wasn’t a popular decision, I’ll tell you that. Some folks wanted to leave until we told ‘em they couldn’t come back if they did. And there were some people who tried to force their way in. Couldn’t let them do that.” His voice held a hint of regret, but his jaw was set in firm, resolute lines. “It was the only way all of us were going to survive. And it turned out we were right.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Justin asked.

  “Town council. Me, Doc Cotton, Old Miz Marson, Clayton Bierce, and Shelt Jackson. Shelt was sort of our honorary mayor.”

  “Was?”

  “Died of a heart attack two months ago. Goddamn shame to live through the apocalypse and be felled by a faulty ticker.”

  “Language, Tom,” Cynthia chided him with a gentle bump of her elbow.
“There are ladies present.”

  “Beg pardon.” Tom glanced at Carly and Mindy with a sheepish little smile. “I picked up a foul mouth while I was in the service and never managed to change my wicked ways, despite the gentle nagging of my better half, here.”

  Carly, who had grown used to Justin’s colorful language, smiled at him and waved a hand to show she didn’t mind. Mindy giggled and poked Stan, whom she had teasingly chastised over the past few days for picking up Justin’s habit of swearing.

  “Anyways, we put up the gates, kept everyone out, and none of us fell sick.”

  Cynthia refilled her own glass of lemonade and topped off Carly’s. “We’ve been talking for a while about whether or not it was finally safe, if the Crisis was really over. If the babies are surviving, it must be over.”

  “How did you manage to defend the place?” Stan asked. “From what I saw on the news—” None of them needed him to complete the sentence. They had all seen what had happened to the authorities who tried to hold back the flood of refugees.

  “Road’s the only way in.” Tom refilled his glass and kept his eyes on it while he spoke. “Couple of folks tried going through the swamp. Wasn’t pretty when the ‘gators got ‘em. Hungry, those ‘gators. Not many deer or other prey about these days. Which brings me to them horses. Where’d you get ‘em?”

  “We found the mare,” Justin said. “She was already pregnant when we got her.”

  Tom nodded. “And we can assume the sire wasn’t immune to the Infection?”

  “I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.” As Justin answered, Carly looked down into the yard where Shadowfax grazed, flicking her tail lazily. She had never thought about Shadowfax’s mate. Had Shadowfax chosen him or had she been bred by her owners? Did horses mate for life? Had she grieved for him? The thoughts were unsettling, and Carly pushed them away to concentrate on the conversation.

  “Yet, the filly is healthy.” Tom glanced over at Carly. “What about you, ma’am? Was the father of your baby immune?”

  “He’s my husband,” Carly replied, nodding at Justin. She unwound the light blanket she put around Dagny to keep the sun off her and draped it over her shoulder. Dagny was starting to get fussy, and she grew downright grumpy if her meals were delayed when she indicated she wanted them.

  “You folks get married after the plague?”

  “We did.” Carly winced as she unwound a lock of hair from Dagny’s clutches. “We met a Reverend Davis when he stopped at our home to trade.”

  “Reverend Davis, did you say?” Tom’s brows rose in surprise. “Older fella? White hair?”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “He and his wife passed this way about a week ago.”

  Carly smiled. “I’m glad to hear they’re all right.”

  “I shoulda let them in,” Tom muttered.

  “You made the only choice you could at the time, Tom,” Cynthia said. She patted her husband’s arm in comfort, and he laid his hand over hers. “How could we know for sure it was safe?”

  “You’re right.” Tom smiled at her. “As usual.” He turned back to his visitors. “Where y’all from?”

  When Carly told him her home state he whistled. “Alaska! Far from home, girl.”

  Carly gave him a small, wistful smile. “I couldn’t stay. I probably wouldn’t have made it through the winter.”

  “What are your winters like here?” Dagny had finished with her meal, and when Carly lifted her to burp her, Justin gestured for Carly to give the baby to him. He laid her against his shoulder and patted her tiny back gently. Dagny cooed and put her hand against her father’s upper arm, opening and closing it as though she were trying to pick up his tattoo.

  “A mite cold at times. I haven’t seen ice on the swamp in at least twenty years, though. Maybe longer. Usually not so cold as you’d freeze unless you were lying outside bare in it.”

  Carly could see how Justin’s eyes sharpened with interest. Stan had a thoughtful expression. He glanced at Mindy, and they shared a moment of silent communication before turning their attention back to Tom.

  “Can you grow food in the winter?” Justin asked.

  “Some. Radishes, spinach, cauliflower, that sort of thing.”

  Justin shifted Dagny to his other shoulder. “You must be growing all of your food if you haven’t sent anyone out for supplies.”

  “We are.” Tom looked rather proud of the fact. “ ‘Course, I think some of us are gettin’ sick of being vegetarians, but what are you gonna do? We got a couple of ladies keeping chickens, but we can’t produce enough to keep the whole town in meat every day. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Storm?” Carly called, and the little horse trotted around to the porch obediently. Stan must have understood her concern because he rose from his seat on the porch steps to get a rope from the wagon and tied Storm to it.

  “We ain’t gonna eat your horses, ma’am.” Tom chuckled.

  Carly flushed a little, but she was still glad Storm was where she could keep an eye on her.

  Sam crawled out from where he’d been dozing in the shade under the wagon and looked for Tigger. He found her in the wagon and carried her over to sit by Carly. He laid his head on her knee, and she scratched the itchy spot on the back of his neck where he couldn’t reach. Sam’s tail thumped on the porch floor, and he arched his neck under her hand, an expression very much like a smile pulling up his lips at the corners.

  Tom shook his head. “And if that ain’t the damnedest thing I ever saw.”

  “I won’t even reprove your language,” Cynthia said, her eyes wide with interest. “Wherever did you get him, ma’am?”

  “Please, call me Carly. I found him as a puppy on the streets of Juneau. I couldn’t just let him starve. I, uh, didn’t know he was a wolf.”

  “You lived in Alaska and didn’t recognize a wolf when you saw one?” Tom was amused, and he wasn’t the only one. Mindy giggled, too, and Carly gave her a playful scowl.

  “People seem to think everyone from Alaska is a rugged outdoorsman who hunts bears armed with just a knife. I lived in Juneau. It’s not a big city . . .” Carly’s voice cracked as she thought of her hometown, knowing she’d never see it again. She took a deep breath to push back the tears. “But I lived in town all my life. I went fishing with my dad, but that was about the extent of my outdoor experience. The only time I’d ever seen a wolf was in the zoo in Anchorage. Sam just looked like a dog to me.”

  “How did you tame him?”

  Carly shrugged. “I guess he was already tame.”

  “He’s not aggressive?”

  “Only when he feels I’m in danger. But he listens to me if I tell him everything’s okay. Sam is very smart.”

  “I’m sure you can understand why some people would be wary of him.” Cynthia seemed a little tentative, as though she was afraid Carly would be offended.

  “Oh, sure. Justin was kind of leery of him when we first met, and Sam was still a puppy back then.”

  “And the horses?”

  “Carly attracts animals,” Justin said with a wry quirk of his lips. “We were followed by a moose for a while in Canada, and I just kept praying, ‘Please God, don’t let it decide to become one of Carly’s pets.’ I had this horrible picture in my mind of the thing trying to crawl into the tent with us.”

  “You’ve seen a good bit of the country in your travels.” Cynthia poured another glass of lemonade. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and Carly realized that this was probably the first news they’d had of the outside world in a very, very long time. She wished she had something better to tell them. “Can you tell us . . . Can you tell us what it’s like . . . out there? We’ve seen just a few survivors, and you were the only ones who had a baby. A living baby, that is.”

  A question came unbidden into Carly’s mind, but she wasn’t about to ask when the answer could be so horrible . . .

  “We’ve seen a fair amount of other people,” Justin said. “But no other babies or pregnant women. I
can’t estimate a total number of survivors, but it’s high enough that the grocery stores along our path have been emptied to the bare walls. Food is becoming scarce, and people are getting desperate enough to do . . . things they wouldn’t normally do.”

  They were all silent for a moment before Cynthia spoke. “We need more watchers on the wall.”

  Tom hesitated for a moment, as though he wanted to say something but thought the better of it. He changed the subject. “Those who survived, did they share a common characteristic?”

  Justin and Carly exchanged glances. “I have a theory for at least some of them.” Carly explained about the flu shots from Cederna and the documents they had discovered.

  “There was bound to be some level of natural immunity even though the lethality rate was artificially high,” Justin said, “as with our horses and the wolf, but we have no way of researching this. How many people remember who manufactured their flu shot, anyway?”

  “I do,” Tom replied. “It was Mantis Medical. I remember seeing it on the form I signed and remembered it because it reminded me of a praying mantis.”

  The sun had dipped low in the sky during their conversation, and the crickets were beginning to chirp. Tom rose to his feet and put his empty lemonade glass on the tray. “You folks are welcome to stay the night, if you like. We’ve got a few empty houses. There’s a barn on the Connell property. Your horses would be comfortable in there.”

  “Thank you.” Justin glanced over to Stan and Mindy to see if they had any objections. Mindy thanked Tom and Cynthia, and Carly realized Mindy hadn’t said much during the conversation, something that was unusual for her.

  “What’s wrong?” Carly asked her as they climbed into the wagon, pitching her voice low so as not to be overheard.

  “Do you trust them, Carly?” Mindy asked. She settled into the seat beside Carly and kept her eyes on the hands clasped in her lap.

  “What do you mean? I don’t think they’re out to hurt us, if that’s what you’re saying.”

  Mindy gnawed on her lip. “No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just . . . this seems too good to be true, you know? Lemonade on the porch? It made me remember all of those summers I used to spend at my grandma’s farm when I was a kid. It doesn’t seem like things like that should exist anymore. Not with how much things have changed.”