Until the End of the World (Book 1)

  “Hi, Beth,” I say. “Are you feeling a little better?”

  She nods.

  “Are you hungry?” She nods again. “Come and sit at the table with me. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

  I pull out peanut butter and jelly fixings, applesauce, a jar of peaches and homemade hummus and bread. She sits in a chair, her skinny legs dangling.

  “I’m Cassie, in case you forgot.”

  She shakes her head to let me know she didn’t. Nelly told me she’s seven, but she’s small for her age and looks younger, especially since her eyes are huge with fear and uncertainty.

  I smile. “Good. I’m going to make some of everything, and you can have whatever you want.”

  She slurps up the peaches and a bowl of applesauce and then gobbles down half a sandwich in four seconds. I open jars and spread stuff so she can eat and eat. I tell her about the house and the garden and the plants while she drinks it all in, her eyes round. But they grow less wary as I talk, so I tell her how we made the jam she’s eating and how silly the goats look when they prance in the yard. When she’s finally slowed down, I ask if she wants to see the garden.

  She nods but hesitates. “I don’t have shoes.”

  I kick off my boots and wiggle my toes. “Lucky you! I hate shoes!”

  It’s her first real smile of the day, maybe her first real smile in a long time.

  Beth walks around on the warm soil, her hair drying into a pretty light brown with curls on the ends. I don’t ask her many questions. Instead, I tell her about how we got here. Of course, I leave out the scary parts, but when I mention coming through town she speaks up.

  “My mom and I were at the school. Then it got blown up right as the Biters came. I heard them say they did it. That’s when they took us, me and my mom.”

  I know they and them refer to Neil and the rest. They must have used all the confusion to their benefit. I wonder what happened to her mother, but I don’t ask. I kneel down to grab a couple weeds.

  I look at her, still on my knees. “That must have been so scary.”

  She looks away. “Yeah.” I want to hug her, but she doesn’t look like she wants a hug. “Both of them are dead. Both my parents.” She looks like a statue the way she’s frozen in place. Unreachable.

  I hold out a hand. “I’m so sorry, Beth.” I understand what it’s like to lose your parents. But not what it must be like when they’re gone before you’re old enough to be on your own.

  She puts her small hand in mine but keeps her face turned to the back of the garden, at the forest that covers the hill. The lower forty, my dad called it. Her body trembles down to the warm hand I hold as she sobs angrily. She doesn’t want me to see her cry. Maybe after the past few weeks she’s afraid of showing weakness, of trusting too much. Of being hurt again. Now that I understand.

  CHAPTER 81

  The next morning, John asks Beth if she wants to go to her house to get some of her things. I pull him aside to say it’s too dangerous, but he reminds me she’s seen a lot worse than we have. That maybe it will help her to have familiar things around, especially when she wakes up screaming like she did all last night. I didn’t mind soothing her because I spent half the night awake anyway. I had the dream about Adrian again, except this time Neil’s dead hand had crept out from under the porch steps and grabbed my ankle, followed by a leering grin on what was left of his head.

  She sits in the back between James and me. Peter’s in the front. For someone who’s managed to avoid me recently, he’s been very present these past twenty-four hours. Bellville looks the same as it did a few weeks ago, except we don’t see a single Lexer. John pulls into the school. The bodies of the infected we killed are slowly desiccating on the asphalt. We circle the building, bouncing over debris, and come upon a pile of Lexer corpses in the back lot.

  “There aren’t any Lexers here,” John says, as he scans the school grounds. “I wonder where they went.”

  “They killed them all,” says a little voice. Beth’s face is pinched. “They had a game. They called it—” she chokes on the words, “—Live Bait. They tied someone up, and then the Biters would come. They would shoot the Biters while—they made me watch, once.”

  I put my arm around her slight shoulders. She lets her tears go in little hitching sobs. Peter looks at Beth and then the pile. His face is dark, all knitted brows and gritted teeth.

  “Can we go?” I ask.

  John puts the truck into gear.

  Beth’s house is a cute brick colonial. Coming home from school to this house must have been pleasant. The kitchen faces the backyard swing set, and the refrigerator is covered in pictures and drawings and all the things that mark a busy, happy family.

  I have a suitcase, but when we’re in her upstairs bedroom she pulls one out of her closet. She opens drawers and silently pulls out clothes.

  “Do you want me to leave you to get changed?” I ask.

  She nods. She’s been wearing my kitten sweatshirt as a dress. When I gave it to her this morning her eyes lit up, just like mine would have when I was seven.

  I peer into a home office and her parents’ room, where the bed is neatly made. The whole place looks like someone is expected home at any minute, but it feels like a museum exhibit: Pre-Apocalyptic Homo-Sapiens.

  Beth’s changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She fills her school backpack with books and a stuffed animal. She moves painfully slow, but I’m not going to tell her to speed it up, so I sit on the bright bedspread and wait.

  Fairy and flower decals cover the walls. A mosquito net hangs over the head of the bed. It’s the perfectly magical room for a seven year-old girl. A photo of Beth and a blond-haired woman who looks like an older Beth sits on the bookshelf.

  “Beth,” I say quietly, not wanting to upset her, “would you like to bring this, too? Or some other pictures?”

  Beth nestles it in her suitcase. She looks more and more distressed as the minutes pass. I watch her pick up and discard her belongings, unsure of what to bring.

  “You don’t have to take everything now. Just the stuff you want most of all. As long as it’s safe you’ll be able to come back and get more.”

  She fingers a pair of socks. “Who will bring me back? Where am I going?” Her voice is a whisper.

  Tears spring to my eyes. She thought she was coming to get her things before we got rid of her somehow.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, honey. We’ll bring you back. We want you to stay with us. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you knew. I hope that’s okay?”

  Her body sags with relief. “Yes.”

  That’s why she was moving so slow: she was afraid of what came next. She points to my folded kitten sweatshirt. “Here’s your shirt back, Cassie.”

  I put it on top of her clothes in the suitcase. “Would you like to keep it? It looks better on you, anyway. I don’t look good in kittens.”

  She giggles and zips her bag. It was a beautiful sound, that giggle, and I want to hear more.

  I point to her dollhouse and Barbies and games. “Do you want some toys?”

  She takes them in like she’s never seen them before. “No. I don’t think I want to play with toys anymore.”

  I want to take her in my arms and tell her she’s safe. I want to insist that she doesn’t have to grow up so fast, but I simply nod because she’s so serious and aloof. I pick up her suitcase as she puts the straps of her backpack over her thin shoulders. It’s so full that it sticks out like a turtle shell. After she leaves the room I grab a handled vinyl box just like the one I had when I was little, the kind that holds Barbie dolls and their accessories. Maybe she’ll want to be a little girl again soon.

  CHAPTER 82

  John finishes installing the new sliding glass door just after the sun’s gone down. He pulls the tape off the glass and we clap.

  “Thanks, John,” I say, as I hand him a beer. We found some of that today, too.

  “It was the damndest thing, down i
n town,” John says. He takes a swig and wipes his beard.

  We’ve waited until Beth’s asleep to discuss it. The past few days must have caught up with her, because she was asleep with her head in my lap ten minutes after dinner.

  “So there are no infected?” Nelly asks.

  He wishes he’d gone and tried limping around when we got back to prove he was fine. When he started wincing with every step, he finally sat and pretended he wanted to read. We pretended not to notice.

  “Not a one,” John says. “Now, there are probably some trapped inside houses that they missed, but they must have killed hundreds, maybe a thousand. Might’ve been the only good thing those men ever did.”

  “Except for how they did it,” I say.

  John tells them what Beth told us about their methods. There’s a horrified silence while everyone contemplates being the bait for their sick game.

  Ana hugs her knees to her chest. “Well, if there was ever any doubt they deserved to die, there’s none now.” Her bruises are still painful to look at, but her eye is less swollen. She turns to John. “John, can we go to the range tomorrow? I want to fix whatever I’m doing wrong.”

  “Let’s wait for that eye to heal, hon. I promise I’ll get you out there as soon you can see, okay?”

  Ana pouts a little and John laughs. “I promise, Ana. We’re going to start regular training. I’m almost finished with that tool I’m making, too. But you need to rest.”

  Ana looks disappointed but doesn’t complain like she would have in the past. Penny looks at her speculatively and glances at me. I shrug, but I’m pretty sure Ana has a new project. She’s always been single-minded, but it’s always been on clothes and money, not armed combat. This should be interesting.

  “Beth didn’t know she was going to live with us,” I tell them. “I don’t know where she thought she was going, but we have to let her know we want her. She’s trying so hard to be strong, but she’s afraid of something terrible happening again.”

  “Who could blame her?” James asks from the floor where he sits with Penny between his knees.

  She nods. “I’m afraid of something terrible happening again. Since it’s almost a guarantee. Between the infected and what they were saying on the radio…”

  The nightly broadcasts have changed from a rudimentary list of Safe Zones to news and descriptions of how various Safe Zones are operating. The broadcast is always from the White Mountain Airport in Whitefield, but a few nights ago they had someone on from the Safe Zone in Maine. A few of the Safe Zones have light aircraft and are flying over the dangerous areas to trade and refuel.

  Tonight, Matt Burns, the broadcaster of Whitefield radio, recommended that groups who number less than forty don’t broadcast their locations. He said that they’re getting survivors from places that were raided by men who found them through their radio broadcasts.

  My hopes of contact with Adrian were dashed, but I’m almost relieved. Contact means I’d know what Adrian thinks of me, for better or worse. Every time I start to feel hopeful, I remember what Peter said and my cheeks flush with humiliation. But I can’t stop loving Adrian just because he might not love me. That’s basically what he’d said to me the night I broke things off.

  I trace the outline of the ring in my pocket. There’s a faint mark on my jeans where the ring has worn a circle. I want to put it on, but I can’t. I’ll only put it on when I know for sure. Or I’ll get rid of it for good, depending. I think of the other ring, the one I sent back to him even after he told me to keep it in case I changed my mind.

  ***

  It was a year after my parents died. We’d spent much of the past year separated, partly because Adrian was finishing up grad school in the northeast and partly because I’d retreated into a drab and colorless world. I did the bare minimum. I showed up for work every day. I would go out for drinks on Fridays if I had to. Adrian would come down in his old car on the weekends he wasn’t interning and try to entice me into doing something, anything, with him. But I never wanted to. The trips we took to look at land and farms had stopped. I never wanted to leave the city. Really, I never wanted to leave the house. All the joy had gone out of imagining the future. I know now that I had sunk into a depression, but at the time it seemed like everyone had been put on the Earth just to prod me into doing things I didn’t want to do. I didn’t understand why I just couldn’t be left alone. When I was alone I was fine, I thought. Eric would always call and ask how my week had been.

  “Fine,” I’d say. “How was yours?”

  “Cassie,” he sighed one day, “I know you’re not fine. What happened to that art show? You’ve never mentioned it again.”

  I’d been contacted by a gallery owner in the northeast who was interested in my paintings. It was a well-known gallery, and in another lifetime it would have been a dream come true. But I hadn’t picked up a brush in a year; I had no urge to. The calls finally petered out.

  “I’ve been busy,” I lied.

  “No, you haven’t. Adrian says you hardly talk to him anymore and that you don’t call him unless he calls you. You don’t even care whether you see him or not. Believe me, I understand what you’re going through, and I know it’s hard, but you’re closing everyone out. I think maybe you need to talk to someone.”

  I was annoyed that he and Adrian were discussing me like I was some kind of problem child.

  “I don’t need to talk to someone, Eric. Maybe what I need is for people to stop talking about me. I’m doing fine. Maybe I’m just different now. Did you ever think of that?”

  Another sigh came down the line. “Fine, Cass. You are different. All the life has gone out of you, and I hate to see it. Please think about it. You know I love you, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. Love you too. Adrian’s here, I have to go.”

  Adrian walked in and dropped his bag on the living room floor with a smile. He opened his arms and I went to him, but I felt like I was suffocating. I’d always felt safe and loved in his embrace, but now I just wanted to escape. I broke free after a second.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, not looking at him. “Do you want to order in?”

  His arms were still raised. He let them fall as I tried to ignore the hurt look on his face. “I thought we could go out. Maybe call Nel?”

  I didn’t want to go anywhere or talk to anyone. “Um, I think Nelly’s busy.”

  His eyes were bright green, challenging. “He’s not. I called him on the way down.”

  “Let’s just stay in.”

  “Maybe I want to go out and see him.”

  “Go ahead,” I offered. “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” he muttered, so low I almost couldn’t hear.

  If he wanted a fight he was going to get one. I was still fuming that he and Eric had been trading calls about me.

  I stood on the area rug, hands on my hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you never seem to want to see me, to talk to me. You won’t even discuss getting married. I know that this year has been awful. I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be sad or depressed—”

  “I’m not depressed!” I yelled. “Eric told me that you and he are busy discussing my depression. I’m fine!”

  “That’s right, we’ve talked. Because we both love you and want you to be the old Cassie again.”

  His voice was gentle, even as mine rose. His face was full of pity. I couldn’t stand it.

  “Well,” I spread my arms, “maybe this is the new Cassie. Maybe if you don’t like it, then…” I trailed off.

  He squared his shoulders and his eyes got glassy. “Then what? What do you want me to do? It feels like you don’t want me around anymore.”

  It was true. I didn’t want him around, and for months I’d tried to figure out why. I could remember how much I’d loved him, how much I’d liked being with him, but they had become faint memories. I could almost feel it sometimes. It was like after a toothache is gone and you
prod the area with your tongue, not quite sure if you can still feel a twinge. I stared at him, unwilling to say the words I’d been thinking.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked again. He sank onto the couch and looked at me helplessly. “I need to know. I need to know if you still want me around. If you still love me.”

  That’s where I should have said, Of course I do. Just please bear with me a little while longer. Because somewhere deep down I thought maybe it wasn’t really gone. But saying that meant I had to try to find it, which meant unlocking all the other feelings that were locked away with it.

  “I—” His face was expectant. “I don’t think I love you anymore.”

  He looked like I had just sucker-punched him. I had just sucker punched him. Out of all the things I could have said, he never thought I would say that. His jaw clenched and he looked away with a nod.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t imagine I would be much comfort.

  He splayed his hands and turned to me. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Why? Can you just tell me that?”

  “I don’t…” I didn’t know what to say. “It’s gone. There’s just…nothing.”

  His voice was bleak. “Nothing.”

  I looked at the little diamond on my hand. It was perfect. He’d combed antique stores all over until he’d found a ring he thought would suit me. I hadn’t wanted him to spend any hard-earned money on a ring, but he swore up and down it was a bargain. “And it fits,” he’d said. “It was meant to be, just like us.”

  I twisted it until I finally pulled it off. I felt sorry for causing Adrian so much pain, but, mainly, I felt relief. At the time I thought it meant I was making the right decision. Eventually, I realized that I’d been relieved I could continue hiding and not have to join the ranks of the living. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to admit that somewhere in the past year I had forgotten how to be me. I held out the ring.