Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After by Sarah Lyons Fleming
There may be nothing worse than not knowing what’s happened to someone you love. This new world is full of stories, of lives, with no ending. People have survived, died, turned—there’s no way to know. My brother, Eric, was supposed to meet us at my parents’ house last summer. He never showed. Everyone has a story like that these days, and I couldn’t bear to have another.
“I know,” Peter says. He frowns in Ana’s direction. “They’re going to thaw soon. You know she’s going to want to be out here all the time.”
Ana is brave to the point of stupidity. Last fall she took on six Lexers by herself. She’s used herself as bait. And, in true Ana fashion, she always escapes unscathed, so she doesn’t see what the problem is.
“We’ll be there, too,” I say. “I’ll keep her under control.”
“You may be the only person who can.”
Ana and I make a good team because we can usually anticipate what the other’s planning. Not only do we keep each other safe, but I can usually deter her from doing asinine things like fighting six Lexers who could be ignored. Unlike her, I don’t have a death wish. She listens to me. Occasionally.
“I’ll do my best. Now, come on, or we’ll be accused of shirking our duties.”
Peter drapes his arm across my shoulders while we walk. It’s not awkward, even with our past. In the past year he’s become one of my closest friends. I can tell him anything, the way I can with Penny and Nelly. Sometimes I tell him more; the Peter who never discussed anything profound is practically a philosopher now.
“Thanks, Cassandra.”
“Welcome, Petey.”
He squeezes my shoulder. Peter’s the only person left in the world who calls me Cassandra, but I’m the only person who has ever called him Petey.
We come face to face with over a hundred frozen and thawing zombies at the base of the hill. Some of the half-thawed ones are dead—really, finally dead. A few are thawed enough to gurgle and twitch, but the below-freezing nights seem to have kept their cores frozen. Dead or undead, they all get a spike in the eye or a knife in the head. I move to where one slumps against a tree like he’s taking a rest on a nature walk. Something black and fuzzy grows on the gray skin of his cheek. “Hey, look at this,” I call out.
Everyone peers at the mossy growth. Adrian scrapes off a patch with his knife, revealing spongy flesh beneath. I hand him a latex glove. “Put some of it in this.”
At the sound of my voice the Lexer’s eyes shift in their sockets. It sees all the potential food and an urgent sound rises from its lipless mouth.
“Oh, shut up,” Ana says. She uses her spike to make a hole in his skull and flashes me perfect white teeth, while Peter flashes me a look that reiterates his concern.
I follow Adrian to where a dozen of them stood before they succumbed to the cold and punch my spike into an eye socket. The crunching sound used to be disturbing. I’m used to it now, which is disturbing in a different way. Killing things has become just another day at the office. I try not to think about who they once were—like Eric.
“Here’s more of that moss,” Adrian says. He crouches for a closer look at a bloated, cracked body half-covered with a sweater of black fuzz. “Maybe this is some kind of decay, finally.”
“Maybe something’s finally going to eat them,” I say. “Maybe something’s evolving along with the infection.”
“I hope so.” Adrian looks up, knife in hand and eyes hopeful. “Nothing’s ever grown on them before. It’s got to mean something.”
We spin at Toby’s yell of surprise and race to where a group of fifteen Lexers lay in the snow. Toby had been stepping his way through the bodies, spike in hand, but now he’s on the ground kicking at one that’s managed to sink its mouth into the cloth above his boot. Adrian slams his knife into the base of its skull and pulls Toby to safety.
Toby clutches his calf, and when he finally releases his hands, we gasp at the rip in his cargo pants. He leans back on his elbows and screws his eyes shut. “Did it break the skin? Just shoot me in the head if it did, man. I don’t want to know it’s coming.”
“There’s no blood on your pants.” I kneel down and pull my knife off my belt as the others gather round, their faces pale. “I can’t see the skin. I have to cut it wider.”
Toby nods, eyes still closed. He’s a lot calmer than I would be, although he’s trembling so badly that I have to steady his leg when I slice the cloth. The marks are deep and some are more red than pink, but there’s no opening, no blood. I inspect carefully, and Ana crouches for a second opinion. Even one tiny break in the skin might mean certain death.
“You’re okay,” I say in a rush. I don’t know what I would’ve said had he not been, and I’m relieved I still don’t. “It didn’t break the skin. But don’t move. Let’s wash off any virus in case it does open up.”
Everyone sighs in relief. Toby drops his head to the snow and stares up at the trees. “Holy fucking shit. Holy shit. Douse me in bleach, man, I don’t care.”
I wipe it down with cleaner and ointment while the others finish off the remaining bodies. They’re careful in case more Lexers are thawed through, but there’s only the one which Toby had the misfortune of stepping past with his guard down.
“You are officially alive,” I tell Toby when I’m done. “So live it up.”
He gives me a quick patchouli-scented hug. “You bet your ass I will. Jeff’s gonna be glad he left the tent tonight.”
CHAPTER 3
I can still smell the bodies when we get back to the farm. It sticks on your clothes and in your sinuses. The frozen Lexers don’t splatter the way thawed ones can, but they still stink. We park the snow machines quietly, well aware of how close a call that was. Toby dashes off to begin his celebration of life, quite possibly the least solemn of us all. Now that the Lexers are thawing, it’s only a matter of time until the pods come. They’ll find us eventually. They may not communicate, but they follow each other looking for food. Looking for us.
I haven’t forgotten what the ever-present terror of millions of zombies feels like, but it’s had a chance to fade since the autumn. The winter gave us time to heal from shell-shocked survivors back into the people we once were, barring the visible and invisible scars we all carry. We’ve grown used to not worrying. The rustle of the trees really has been the wind, every snap of a branch heavy snow or ice. We haven’t become complacent, but it’s time to get back into that old mentality—the world has never been more of an eat-or-be-eaten place than it is now.
Adrian kisses me and heads out to whatever’s on his to-do list. Ana and I wash our blades in bleach water, dip our boots in the foot bath and mist each other with a virus-killing spray. I’m not the neatest person, much to Adrian’s chagrin, but when it comes to the virus, I’m all for sterility.
“Let’s go find my sister and see if she’s knocked up,” Ana says when the others are gone.
“That’s my first stop,” I say. “I can’t believe she might be pregnant.”
“I think she is. I would die if it were me. Imagine?”
Ana gives a dramatic shiver as we leave the shed. I bring her to a halt by her arm. “Ana, don’t say that to Penny. Believe me, you won’t be telling her anything she doesn’t already know.”
“Cass, I wouldn’t say that!”
I stare at her until she drops the innocent, doe-eyed expression. “I’ll only say how happy I am,” Ana says. “Promise. I am happy, you know. I’ve always wanted a niece to spoil. It’s a girl, I know it.”
Cows low from the barns on our left, and the goats rest their front legs on the barnyard fence, looking for a handout. We turn right and weave through the large outfitter tents to the grouping of small cabins, where Ana and Peter share a cabin with Penny and James.
“I’m happy for her, too,” I say. I don’t tell Ana I agree with her on the other stuff. Like I said, we all know.
We burst into the cabin’s tiny main room. The golden glow of the wood walls, the woodstove and the shelves
Ana raises her hands and shouts, “Well?”
Penny holds up the little plastic stick. “Two lines. Positive.”
Ana and I shriek. After I’ve hugged Penny, I notice James staring into the distance, light brown hair tucked behind his ears and thin face paler than usual. James is nothing if not pragmatic, and I know his mind is traveling down some seriously dark baby-zombie roads right now.
“We’re still trying to wrap our heads around it,” James says when I congratulate him. “But it’s good.”
“It’s great,” I say with what I hope sounds like absolute confidence. “It’s going to be fine.”
He rubs at his forehead before he nods. We both know I could be wrong, but we have to take pleasure in these moments that could otherwise be ruined by what’s outside the fences. If we don’t, we might as well give up. Penny’s face is soft and buoyant, and James reaches for her hand, mirroring her expression. My resolve not to have a baby weakens a tiny bit, but I shore it up with the image of the frozen Lexers today.
CHAPTER 4
I make my way to the farmhouse to change before dinner, planting my feet carefully in the muck at the lowest part of the farm. Today might herald the start of mud season, that time of boot-sucking bogs and dirty floors. I extend my arms to keep from falling when my leg slides out from under me. I should’ve stuck to the graveled path.
“How is it that anyone wants you, of all people, on patrol?” asks a wry voice.
I turn to where Nelly leans against one of the cabins with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Why are you following me?”
“I saw the windmill arms and had to get a closer look.”
He mimics my arms with a look of desperation. I laugh so hard that my foot slips again. Nelly grabs my elbow and sighs, but his blue eyes twinkle.
“Thanks,” I say. “And I’m glad you find me so entertaining.”
“Me too, darlin’.”
Nelly’s unruly blond hair sticks up all over the place, and his cheeks are pink from working outside with the livestock. His left arm never entirely recovered from that bad infection last year, so he doesn’t do patrol unless we’re short of people. He argues that it’s fine and that he’s right-handed. Truthfully, Nelly’s always been broad and strong, so his weakened arm is probably still stronger than most, but I like it this way. It gives me one less person to worry about.
“Want to come to the house with me?” I ask. “I have to change.”
“Sure. I’ll flush the toilet for fun.”
Those who don’t live in the farmhouse make do with the composting outhouses. And unless they’re in one of the tents lucky enough to have its own composting toilet, they have to brave the cold to use them. Nelly lives in one of the men’s tents, along with John. The cabins were given to families and couples. Being the boss’s girlfriend has its perks, besides the obvious one of being in love with him.
“So, did you see Penny?” Nelly asks.
I know he’s under orders not to ruin the surprise. “How crazy is it that she’s pregnant?”
I’m staggered that Penny, my best friend since the age of ten, is having a baby. We’d planned—when we were twelve and still sure we could order up the life we wanted—to have kids together, so they’d be best friends, too. That’s not happening, but some of that hazy future has just arrived with a bang.
“Yup, it’s crazy all right,” Nelly says. “What did you think happens when you have unprotected sex?”
He’s happy, though; I can see it by the way he tightens his lips so as not to smile. “Oh, stop! Can’t you just be excited?”
“Oh, my God, I’m so psyched!”
“You’re an ass. I know you’re happy.”
He pats my hand and grunts, which is as close as I’m getting to agreement.
The restaurant clangs with the sounds of dinner, and my stomach growls at the drifting aroma of marinara sauce. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Killing the infected kills my appetite as well, but now I’m ravenous. I’d sneak in and grab something, but people avoid you when you’re wearing your Lexer gear. There’s no way they’d let me in.
We take off our boots in the sunroom. The white farmhouse has a porch that spans the front and old windows that let in tons of cold air, although they’re lovely to look at. I poke around in the kitchen pantry, but someone’s eaten the cookies I stuck in there. The bread is gone, too. I’d hoard food in my room if it weren’t for mice.
“Scavengers ate my cookies!”
“I’ll bet anything that scavenger’s name was Bits,” Nelly says.
He throws himself onto the couch in the living room and puts his feet up on the coffee table. “I’ll be watching the game,” he says, picking up an imaginary remote control and aiming it at an imaginary television.
“I’ll make you and the guys some sandwiches when I’m changed, honey.”
I climb the stairs to the bathroom, where I wash up and bundle my jeans for the laundry. Adrian’s already been back to our room: his gloves and leather jacket hang on their hooks, with his spotless boots underneath. The room was his, but I’ve added my own touches since last summer—namely in last night’s pajamas thrown over the desk chair, the teetering stack of books, the papers where I’ve scribbled lists or notes or doodles and the art supplies that I find impossible to keep organized.
There’s also the addition of a twin bed in the corner, where Bits sleeps when she’s not with Peter. Peter and I joke that we have split custody, and she comes and goes as she pleases. Adrian hadn’t expected to become a father-like figure to a now eight year-old girl, but he loves Bits dearly.
Bits was orphaned by Bornavirus LX, although her parents died at the hands of men who weren’t infected. Her father died in an explosion at the school where they’d taken refuge from the Lexers. Her mother wasn’t so lucky—a group of men fed her to the infected while Bits watched. I don’t often think of Neil, the leader of those men, and how his head exploded out the back when I shot him, because it’s never exactly pleasant. Except for the fact that he’s dead. That is kind of pleasant.
I shake my head to banish the image and look out the windows. The ring of mountains that surrounds us is still white with snow, their peaks bristly with the branches of barren trees. The mountains of the Northeast aren’t huge, but they’re tall enough to offer some semblance of protection and a feeling of security. Sometimes I feel like nothing can touch us here, with our fences and weapons, but I know it’s not true. It’s dangerous to think that way. I sigh and pull on my shoes.
CHAPTER 5
I watch people eat their spaghetti and meatballs and entertain the idea of grabbing a plate out from under one of them. I’ve reached a new level of hunger since breakfast, but I’m very aware that I don’t know what real hunger is. There must be people out there who are starving, who died of starvation over the winter, while I’ve had three, or at least two, squares a day.
A dinner roll floats over my shoulder and jiggles in the air. I turn to find Adrian attached to the other end and take a bite. “That is so good,” I moan through a mouth full of the yeasty bread I kneaded this morning.
“You were practically drooling. I thought I should feed you before you did something you’d regret.” Adrian always notices things like that, and not just with me. That’s why everyone loves him.
“I was so hungry,” I say, and rip off another bite. “Thanks.”
“Are you ever not hungry?” Nelly asks. “Seriously, it’s flabbergasting.”
“I like food. Would you rather I have that Body Dysmorphic Disorder thingy? I have a healthy approach to food.”
“Yeah,” Adrian says, “any food you approach, you eat.”
Nelly laughs. Sometimes when we’re all together it??
“I can’t help that I grew up eating good food and appreciate it.”
“A lot,” Nelly adds, and turns to Adrian. “So, did you hear the news?”
“Penny?” Adrian asks. His eyes widen when I nod. “Wow.”
Bits races in the door, with Penny, James, Peter and Ana in tow. I offer her the last bite of roll and lift her petite body in the air. At times, because of her size and nightmares, I forget she’s eight. She’s grown up a lot this winter, but she still has a paralyzing fear of Lexers, and I’m worried about the summer that will assuredly bring more.
“How was school, Bitsy?” I ask.
“Penny’s pregnant!” she says into my ear. It was supposed to be a whisper, but her enthusiasm makes it more of a yell.
I kiss her freckled cheek. “I know. But I think she wants to keep it a secret for now.”
“It’s a lost cause,” Penny says with a shrug. “When I was leaving the infirmary, I dropped the test and at least four people saw it. Everyone has to suspect by now.”
Sure enough, people glance at her quickly and look away smiling. It’s impossible to keep a secret while living in such close quarters, and their suspicions are not laid to rest by Adrian’s congratulatory hug.
She pats her stomach ostentatiously. “Might as well give them something to talk about.”
John and Maureen enter the big door just after we’ve sat with our food. They’re often together, and I think it’s only a matter of time before something romantic develops. It might have already—John is the only person who could keep it from the other one hundred people here.
They sit in the seats we’ve saved for them, and John bows his head for a silent grace before digging in. His salt-and-pepper beard is whiter than last fall, and he’s filled out more due to all the farm work. If Adrian’s the manager of the farm, John’s the foreman, and he runs a tight ship.
Maureen has a brown bob, laugh lines, and round cheeks that get plumper when she smiles at the other tables. She and John are surrogate grandparents to the fifteen kids who live here. Sixteen, if you include Penny, and I don’t think she’ll be the last. We have little to no contraception left; it’s one of the first things we need to find when the snow melts. Maureen taught us how to chart our monthly cycles, but if Penny the straight-A student is any indication, it’s not foolproof.