Agnes at the End of the World

by Kelly McWilliams

  She shivered. “They can’t hurt us?”

  “The Nests don’t move. But they do attract others.” He glanced back the way he came. “We shouldn’t stay long, Agnes.”

  She’d seen photos of people melded together like those crows. How would it feel to be alive, but not alive? To be twisted up and trapped forever?

  Did she really have to wonder? Didn’t she already know?

  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

  He pulled his glasses from his face and wiped the lenses. “Sometimes I think the world is ending. I think…”

  Danny’s dark hair had grown halfway over his eyes, and he smelled of sweat and fear. It had been brave of him to come.

  She whispered, “Was it very hard, getting here?”

  He looked surprised that she’d think of him now.

  “This last week… I never knew it could be so bad. School’s canceled, and we’re supposed to stay in our homes, but nobody does. People have to get food somehow, you know? Websites are down, power’s out, there’s gunfire in the streets…”

  The hair stood up on the back of Agnes’s neck. “You mean, it isn’t safe out there?”

  “I know you’re thinking of leaving.” No one had ever spoken hard words so gently. “But honestly, it might be better if you stayed here.”

  “What?” Her head reared back.

  “Your people aren’t rioting in the streets. Buildings aren’t burning. Humans aren’t yet—” He nodded towards the crows. “You know.”

  “The Prophet’s going to send us into the bunker soon.” She spoke quickly, furiously. “And Danny, I don’t think anyone’s coming out alive.”

  He ran a hand through the black wave of his hair, looking stricken. She saw him calling on a different part of himself—the analytical, problem-solving part she’d glimpsed in their first meeting. The part that wanted to be a doctor.

  “Okay.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Let’s weigh our options.”

  She’d gotten too close to the crows.

  A red beady eye found her, its gaze suddenly animate. The prayer space was shrieking like a kettle, and, for a moment, Agnes couldn’t breathe.

  Danny grabbed her hand and pulled her to safety. They kept going past the creek, away from the shadowy center of the forest.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, when she’d caught her breath.

  They stayed close, because it felt safer somehow. She could feel the warmth of him. His broad shoulders blocked out the forest dark.

  “Agnes, I can’t reach my mom,” he said. “I haven’t heard from her since last night. I’m going straight from here to the hospital to find her.”

  She looked up at him. In every version of her escape plan, Danny had been there. Solid. Reliable. What would she do if he wasn’t?

  “You won’t disappear on me. Will you?”

  “Come with me.” His eyes implored her. “You and your brother. But you have to come now.”

  Now!

  Her shock startled him. “Isn’t that why you wanted me to come? To help you get away?”

  You can’t save them.

  Yes, she wanted to leave. But now, confusion and doubt took over.

  Ezekiel might go willingly. But Beth—she’d ring the alarm if Agnes so much as mentioned running. Without her, she couldn’t handle the other kids.

  Agnes pictured the bunker, that hatch in the ground, and saw her sister living in the dark, with the rats, the foul air, and Matthew Jameson. She saw Mary and Faith, too small to understand what had happened to them. And Sam still playing the Apocalypse Game—only it was no longer fun, because this time it was real.

  I have to try one more time. Or I’ll never forgive myself.

  But what if her time was already up, and the hourglass empty? What if the Prophet and the patriarchs were waiting for her in her trailer even now, to exile her to the Outside, alone?

  “Only one woman ever escaped from Red Creek,” she said. “My great-grandmother Sarah. But she had to leave her baby son behind.”

  Danny was shocked speechless.

  “I can’t go with you now,” she said heavily. “I have to talk to my sister. I have to try to rescue my brothers and sisters.”

  His face fell. “I read about your Prophet. He’s dangerous, Agnes.”

  She bit her lip. “I can’t just leave the kids to die.”

  “You really think it’s death, this bunker?”

  A dog on a chain. Blood on the church floor. And the Prophet, waving a pearl-handled pistol.

  She rubbed her eyes, thinking of Red Creek’s three hundred. “I’m terrified for them.”

  “How can I help?” Danny asked. “Why am I here?”

  He wasn’t angry, but there was a thread of sadness in his voice that sounded like goodbye.

  She glanced through the trees in the direction of her trailer. Earlier, she’d thought she and Ezekiel would be gone before everyone returned from church. But her heart told her she needed to try to save Beth and her siblings, one last time.

  She looked at Danny.

  In his eyes: heartbreak. He knew how torn she was.

  Again, she felt that mysterious something inside herself reaching out to him like a grasping hand.

  She had one last favor to ask of him. She shocked herself by touching his arm.

  “Danny, I need you to teach me to drive. Will you?”

  A grin dawned slowly on his face. “Manual or automatic?”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  He threaded his hand through hers. “We’d better get started, then.”

  The hike to the car wasn’t long. Danny’s vehicle was smaller than the Jamesons’ truck, gray, and hidden in a glade.

  “Let’s start from the beginning,” said Danny, opening the passenger door. “Sorry it’s so crowded in here. I’ve been collecting medical supplies wherever I can find them. Gauze, disposable ice packs, half-empty cartons of Band-Aids… I hope you don’t mind.”

  Agnes didn’t mind, but she was surprised to see the back seat cluttered, overflowing with Outsider materials. Some things looked sharp, like Ezekiel’s syringes but more complex.

  “Don’t touch the blood kit. You’ll notice my arm is covered in scars. I’ve been trying to teach myself from textbooks and YouTube to do things Mom can probably do in her sleep.”

  She moved a pile of worksheets to sit down, noticing the title of the packet as she did so. ADVANCED CPR, it said.

  “What’s CPR?”

  He slid into the driver’s seat. “Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. I’m already certified, but I wanted to brush up. You can’t just call 911 anymore.” He paused, like he was deciding whether or not to confide something. “I keep having this nightmare that someone’s hurt and dying, and I have to figure out how to save their life, all by myself.”

  Agnes snapped her seat belt’s buckle. “Do you? Save them, I mean?”

  “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “It always turns out I didn’t practice enough.”

  “But you are practicing,” she pointed out, and he visibly brightened, adjusting the rearview mirror.

  “Good point.” He smiled in thanks, and her heart flipped over in her chest.

  “Now, watch me start the car. Then you’ll try.”

  Later, Agnes would think two things: that the afternoon she spent learning to drive with Danny was one of the happiest of her life, and that she should’ve gone with him.

  But she waited too long while the sun lowered, and disaster gathered like a storm.

  19

  AGNES

  In dreams God has revealed to me: It is an abomination for women to drive vehicles of any kind. Their fathers shall not teach them.

  —PROPHET JACOB ROLLINS

  Trudging up the meadow, Agnes felt lighter than she had any right to, considering the punishment that doubtlessly awaited her. She kept seeing Danny adjusting his glasses. Kept hearing his enthusiasm as she learned to maneuver the car. When she took a sharp turn, his medi
cal supplies had rolled in the back seat, causing her to shoot a glance his way.

  She was accustomed to male anger. But Danny’s charmed laughter—that was new. Her whole body relaxed at the sound, and despite her grave danger, she felt happy.

  His eyes widened like he’d stumbled on something unexpected and delightful.

  “Do you know,” he said wistfully, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “No,” he insisted with touching certainty. “I’m sure it is. I’ve wondered what it would be like.”

  Then he blushed, adjusted his glasses again, and launched into a detailed explanation of turn signals.

  Her skin still tingled with the memory as she crested the hill.

  Father stood in her garden, his arms crossed over his chest. His whole body was taut with rage, but even that could hardly touch her.

  Because she had a secret power now.

  She could drive.

  “Agnes, get inside. Now.”

  “Father, I’m—”

  “You revealed your true self in church today.” His face was white. “I disown you. Do you understand me? You’ll live in my house and obey my rules, but our spiritual ties are severed. I’ll not be embarrassed by you again. Not even in heaven.”

  She’d expected it to hurt, and it did. But she had more to think of than the loss of his love.

  “I understand, Father.”

  He blinked, taken aback that she hadn’t wept or screamed.

  “Your Sunday school teacher died an hour ago.”

  His words pierced her. She swayed. Everything seemed to be happening too fast.

  “The funeral must take place in the church, tonight. Your sister’s wedding, too.”

  Oh my God, they’re tying up loose ends.

  Father nodded curtly, confirming her fears. It was still Sunday—a holy day—and that morning the Prophet had shown them a demon. A red devil to fortify your faith.

  Matthew Jameson wanted his sixth wife before the Rapture, and Mrs. King must be buried before the end of the world.

  They were going to the Temple. And not in some far-off future—tonight.

  “Help Beth dress,” Father said, voice clipped. “We don’t have much time.”

  She needed to text Danny—beg him to come back. She needed to dig up Ezekiel’s insulin, grab Father’s keys to the truck, and pack a bag. So much to do and she didn’t know where to start. Her mind skated and slid, every thought slick as ice.

  She hurried inside. “Sam? Where’s Beth?”

  He pointed towards the bathroom, his eyes tired, bewildered. Ezekiel and the twins looked shattered, too. The crimson dog and the riot in church; then the Rapture sermon—it had been the longest day of their lives.

  They should be sleeping.

  But, of course, there’d be no sleep tonight.

  There was still a chance she could save them. Her family didn’t deserve to be buried alive. But it all depended on what Beth did next.

  With Beth on her side, everything would turn out right.

  After all, hadn’t they, as little girls, watched fireflies dancing over the meadow and reveled in a love without end?

  The bathroom door cracked open an inch. “Agnes, I can’t fasten these eyelets. Can you help me, please?”

  Her sister wore their mother’s faded ivory wedding gown, beaded with false pearls. She shook like a leaf, teeth chattering as if she were freezing on that warm summer night. But she smiled bravely, holding out her little finger, and an electric hope cramped in Agnes’s chest as their fingers clasped.

  Silently, fervently, Agnes prayed. God, let her finally see the truth. Amen.

  20

  BETH

  The time is nigh.

  —PROPHET JACOB ROLLINS

  Beth drew Agnes inside the bathroom and then drew her close, pressing their foreheads together. Her sister’s breath smelled stale and tired.

  Where had she been all day? Where had she been when Mr. Jameson—Matthew—had come to tell her they’d be married in just a few hours, and a terror that felt like dying had seized her?

  Doesn’t matter. She’s here now.

  “It’s finally happening, Agnes. After the wedding, we’re going underground.”

  Agnes looked at her, a puzzled appeal in her eyes.

  “I’m not going, Beth. Neither should you. You don’t have to marry him. And you don’t have to go into the bunker. We can run.”

  “We can’t miss the apocalypse, silly.” But panic had a grip on her now.

  I’ll be Cory’s sixth mother, she thought out of nowhere.

  His father’s wife.

  And what is a wife? Do I even really know?

  “You used to ask so many questions,” whispered Agnes. “You used to be curious about the Outside. What happened?”

  Beth remembered raw egg sliding down her face. “Everyone hates me. They all hate me so much.”

  She glanced in the bathroom mirror. Her face looked gruesome, greenish. How could she explain to Agnes that she felt the faithful’s hate like a physical thing—like fetters around her throat, her wrists, her ankles?

  “We can run tonight,” Agnes was saying. “You, me, and the children.”

  Beth shot a glance at the door. On the other side, she heard Father muttering.

  Surely her sister couldn’t be serious.

  “Agnes, what are you talking about? I’m getting married.”

  Agnes gripped her shoulders. “The Prophet wants to bury us for four hundred days. Do you understand what that means? Four hundred days, Beth! And Magda and Toby are infected. They’ll spread the sickness. It will be hell down there, a living hell.”

  Beth covered her ears. The girl standing before her, eyes blazing, sounded like a stranger. A terrifying, demanding, Outsider stranger.

  “Agnes, stop.”

  “People will die, and you’ll be that old man’s slave.” She spoke in harsh whispers. “And what about Cory? Did you ever love him at all? Do you really want to be his mother?”

  Beth buried her face in her hands, felt her own tears leaking.

  Why couldn’t Agnes see that she’d already decided to rip out her heart and replace it with another, one more suited to Red Creek’s ways?

  And Matthew Jameson was an upright man. Maybe she’d finally be safe with him. Maybe, even in the bunker dark, she’d have something worth living for.

  It was a thin hope. But she’d cling to it. It was all she had.

  She gestured to her wedding dress, still only half-buttoned. “Can’t you see it’s too late?”

  Horror filled Agnes’s eyes, and for a second Beth wanted to take it back. Wanted to say, Yes, I’ll run with you, of course I will.

  But her gown was very heavy. Weighing her down.

  “I love you, Beth,” Agnes said. “And I’m sorry—so awfully sorry—for what has happened to you.”

  The words resounded in the cramped bathroom. Her sister took a single step back, and Beth felt a chasm yawn between them. Dimly, she was aware she’d refused her last chance—but only dimly. Her mind was clouded with wedding lace and the terror of getting what she thought she wanted.

  Where could she go but deeper into that numbness that she called repentance?

  “Ezekiel can’t survive the bunker. I’ve been sneaking him medicine. Meeting Outsiders with prescriptions.”

  Beth nodded, barely registering the revelation of the secret she’d longed to know.

  “I’m not going into the Temple,” Agnes continued doggedly. “I’m leaving with Ezekiel tonight. If you come with me, we can take the kids. We can get them out of here. Give them a life Outside. But I can’t save them alone.”

  Beth touched Agnes’s wrist. “I guess I always knew you’d be the one to leave. You’re the strong one, Agnes. The one with the—” Her throat constricted around the word destiny. “It was always going to be you. But I can’t help you. I’ve made my choice. My life is here.�
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  Confusion and sadness flickered in Agnes’s eyes.

  How had they lost each other? When had they grown so far apart?

  Beth had believed she had no desires left, that she’d cried them all out in this very bathroom, but it wasn’t true.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the thought of marrying without Agnes there to see her. The church would feel empty without her sister in it.

  “Come to my wedding,” she begged. “I want someone there who really knows me.”

  Agnes hesitated, then shook her head.

  Beth’s heart drummed her terror. My God, she’s going to deny me even this.

  “I can’t. I have to go now, before it’s too late.”

  She begged. “I’ll make sure you have a chance to slip away. It’s my wedding, after all.” She lowered her voice. “Agnes, please. I’m so scared.”

  Agnes held her eyes. Finally, she nodded. “Turn around. I’ll button you up.”

  “So, you’ll be there?” She craned to meet her sister’s eyes.

  Agnes winced. “Of course, I will. And Beth.” Her hands stilled.

  Beth met Agnes’s eyes through the mirror glass. They were round and black, all pupil, and her head cocked to one side like she was listening to some sound no one else could hear. The air around her almost seemed to shimmer, like heat over the church road at noon.

  No. Her heart thudded in her chest. You’re imagining things.

  “You have my blessing, Beth Ann,” Agnes whispered—invoking her middle name, their mother’s name. “God bless you in your time of need.”

  The words sent shivers down her spine.

  Then Agnes—eyes still vague and strange, head cocked—kissed her cheek.

  A burning, electric shock of a kiss. Beth took a shuddering step back like her sister’s lips had scorched her.

  When she looked back at Agnes, her eyes had cleared.

  “What was that?” she demanded, panicky. “What did you do?”

  Agnes blinked. “What do you mean? I don’t have a wedding present. But I wanted to give you something. I’m sorry it’s not—well, cloth or china, or something like that.” Her voice broke. “But please know you’ll always be in my prayers.”