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Authors: Lara Frater

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BOOK: End of the Line
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Jim came into the room next. He looked a little angry. I probably would be if I had to deal with Miss Thing.

“We good?” I said.

“Nothing else showed up.”

“I’ll tell Dan that we should go at the crack of dawn,” I said. “More will come.”

“Good thinking,” Jim said.

“Forget to ask, how’s Eric doing?”

“He’s upset about his mother and at Princess.”

“She’s a bitch but she did the right thing.” I thought about missing the shot that might have saved Maddie.

“I told him but he’s still pissed.”

“At least he’s got you.”

Jim didn’t reply.

“I’ll see about finding something to board the window,” Dave said.

I looked at Dave. He looked uncomfortable. I knew he didn’t like Maddie, but he’d been nice to her ever since we got back from our trip. At least now he was learning when to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m going to go back to Eric,” Jim said. “I don’t like leaving him alone.”

Jim headed up the stairs then stopped when a woman screamed. Shots rang out and the screaming stopped.

“Fuck!” he yelled and moved up the stairs quickly. The light from his flashlight going everywhere. Dave and I followed.

“Eric!” he started screaming but it couldn’t have been him, it was a woman’s voice.

When I got upstairs, I found Jim outside his room with Eric who looked dazed but fine. Annemarie and Henry came out of their room and Princess peered from hers, but didn’t come out.

The only door still shut was Rachel’s.

I looked at everyone. They looked at the door but no one opened it.

I got no problem looking at death, so I did it. The room was dark, no signs of light from flashlight or candles.

I flashed my light on the bed and there was Dan, dead. His face twisted and shot but he also had the pasty and eyes glazed over look. What the fuck was going on?

“Rachel,” I said. “Rachel, where the fuck are you? Are you hurt?”

I heard sniffling in the corner and focused my light.

Rachel sat there with Mindy’s handgun in her hand, crying. Her face and hair a mess. There were deep scratches across her face.

“What happened?” I asked, walking closer.

“Don’t come any closer, Tanya,” she said, waving the gun around.

I stopped. Jim came into the room but stayed behind me.

“Rachel,” he said. “Please, put the gun down and come over to us.”

Rachel didn’t move.

“I gave the virus to him. I gave in and fucked him. I was so distraught over Maddie and all the others, I gave in. He said it would be okay. That I was immune. It isn’t okay. I gave the virus to him. He got sick, then died and came back. I shot him. I’m not a saint or immune, I’m a carrier. A fucking carrier and I can give it to anyone easily.”

“Doc,” Jim said, his tone desperate. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. Now put the gun down, please. I’m sorry about Dan, about Maddie, but we have to move on and survive.”

“Survive?” she said, still waving the gun. “All dead because of me, all dead because Abe decided I had to be leader. I’m not a leader. I’m a liar and adulterer.”

“We’re all liars,” Jim said. “And I don’t think the adultery matters now. Please put down the gun. Let’s get dressed and leave, okay. It’s late but we can get ready to go. Tanya found a wine cellar in the basement. We can have a party in the living room until dawn and then we can find a boat, a big beautiful boat and sail our way out of here. Sail from this terrible place.”

Rachel looked at me, the gun still steady in her hand. “Tanya— You don’t know how strong you are. People saw you as a thug, or stupid, but I didn’t. I saw you for exactly who you were, smart and strong. Jim—sweet Jim. You held us together. You can both remake this world, I am the end of this darkness, the end of the line for the human race, you are both the beginning.”

“Rachel, please,” Jim said. His voice high and frantic. His sweetness wasn’t gonna save the day. I knew from the tone of her voice that even if I tried I wouldn’t be able to stop her in time.

“I know you went to my house,” she said. “And you saw what I did. I remember now. I wanted to forget. They both died. My husband died first in the hospital. He didn’t come back. Then my daughter got the flu. By then everything was so overwhelmed I kept her at home. She came back, so I locked her away. I couldn’t kill her. Did you kill her? Did you?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Thank you.”

“Rachel,” Jim said, pleading. “Please, don’t do it. We need you.”

“Take care of them,” she said, then stopped crying and smiled. “I’m finally happy now.”

Then Rachel turned the gun on herself.

The bang didn’t scare me. I was used it now.

“Rachel!” Jim screamed. “Rachel!” He rushed to her.

I didn’t stop him. She was dead, gone. The weight on the world was now on me. I didn’t believe Rachel for a moment. I wasn’t the smart and strong girl she saw. I was a liar, a thief, a drug dealer, and a horrible mother. How could I be the hope for the future, in a world of nothing?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part V

Chapter 27

Grace.

             
I left after she died and went back to my room. I wondered about the morning and if they would leave her body or burn it? I let them deal with their follies.

             
I did not want the wine. Did not want to think of Daddy or uncle Len or Joseph or Edina. Never use or more than once in a sentence the tutor said. Daddy did not care about my education, only that I should at least have a degree in something and should never embarrass the family like that Hilton girl. I always looked up to Daddy and after him when mother left.

             
We were sure when the virus came we would survive without a problem. “Only a strong bug,” Joseph said. “It won’t affect us if we stay away from others.” He was a doctor, so he knew or at least he thought he did. Our house in the Hamptons offered plenty to do and I had a list of summer reading that needed to be tackled. Our housekeeper Edina told the staff not to come in if they were sick. Daddy treated the staff well. They were paid honest wages and he valued hard work.

             
I had been on break from Vassar, bored of school and the young rich girls pretending to be poor. I went slumming with them once, but it bored me. They made it seem like I had never seen a black person beyond servants. Daddy had friends all over the globe, including wealthy people from African nations and Latin American countries. What these other girls wanted was us to friend the gardeners. I liked our staff, found them highly competent, but I doubted that either of us would want to spend an evening together. Daddy said the color of a person’s skin didn’t matter; only what they could do. Daddy valued smart, wealthy and powerful people.

             
This was why we thought we would survive. We were smart, and we had everything. While I never did dishes or mopped floors, I could survive. Daddy made sure. He always made sure Joe and I had a skill someone would need. Mine turned out to be guns. Daddy took me hunting at a young age. I killed my first fox when I was 11
.
Daddy made me skin it. Said if I killed something for food or clothing, I would have to deal with the death.

             
Or so I thought. There’s that or again. Shouldn’t start it to open a sentence.

             
I impressed Daddy with by my natural shooting ability and the trophies I bought home. He got me beautiful hunting rifles for my birthday and Christmas. Joe got me the one on my back now. The rifle was custom built for me; they’d measured my chest, both arms, and the width of my shoulders to get the measurements right. It wasn’t even meant to shoot humans. It took a 30-06 cartridge, meant to take out an 800 pound buck.
 
Polished walnut stock, a 1 inch scope ring, a perfectly balanced device that felt like an extension of my arm. The manual action slid effortlessly back and forth, I could chamber a round every second if I wanted.

             
Which made his death quick.

 

             
“Princess,” said Jim’s voice from my door. “We’re getting ready to go.”

             
I liked Jim despite the stupid nickname he gave me. I would never admit it. Sweet as the pie my nanny Joyce used to make. He was kind to me even though I did not deserve it.

             
The colors of the morning light came into the bedroom. I enjoyed sleeping here. More comfortable than that office in CostKing but I missed it. It felt safe. No zombies bursting through the windows.

             
I looked outside and saw a beautiful clear day. Those wacky environmentalists were right. Our presence destroyed the air. Now a year after humans fell, the air seemed cleaner and the sky brighter.

             
He knocked again.

             
“I heard you,” I said, and I heard him walk away.

             
I didn’t see any zombies, but I faced a wooded area.

             
I went back to the bed and began brushing my long blond hair. Jim sometimes cut the ends, but he wasn’t a stylist. I put it in a ponytail.

             
I chose my clothes, stylish yet easy to move in. CostKing clothes were disgusting and didn’t fit like my custom made ones. I looked into the closet of the room. The woman who lived here took her comfortable clothes and left the rest. I went through a long line of dresses.

             
Instead I threw on jeans and a polo shirt. I looked tacky but no one was watching so I guess I shouldn’t care. None of my friends were around to judge me, they were probably dead.

             
I put on a little make up. Pretended I was getting ready to ride the horses. A little eyeliner, some lipstick.

             
I hated not being able to shower today. Showers were plentiful at CostKing as long as there was enough rain water.  I did wash off the stench of the thing that touched me. He grabbed my shoulder so tightly I still had indentation marks.

             
I packed my bag. I travelled light now: Water, makeup, snacks, first aid kit and bullets. Two nice guns now. The assault rifle was a marvelous machine. Daddy didn’t allow it. He said it was overkill but not when trying to take down hundreds of flesh eating zombies.

             
It wouldn’t have saved him.

             
I looked at the bottle of Xanax. I took one a day, washed it down with booze, whatever I could find, even beer. I could take plenty of fine wines from the cellar. When I took my pills, I didn’t remember about daddy, Joe, Len and Edina and how I murdered all of them.

             

             
It was Daddy’s best friend that brought it. Not the flu. None of us got it. Uncle Len decided to shelter with us. Before he got into his car, he was attacked by a mob. He managed to make it to the car and to our house. By then it was already too late. He called the people savages and one had even bit him!

             
My father stayed calm but I knew he was worried. The phones stopped working, and cell phone coverage was intermittent and when it worked, no one ever answered. Many websites were down and the news only reported the flu and the riots.

             
Joe cleaned the wound on Len and Daddy offered him a room upstairs when Len said the bite hurt and he wanted to rest. That is what terrified me when they bought in Jim, that he had gotten bitten. He doesn’t know that I refused payment to help him.

             
Daddy tried to get a flight out of New York. Calls to the airport, when the cells worked, were always busy or unanswered.

             
He decided we should shelter in the house which we thought would be safe from rioters. The house was already gated and Joe, Daddy and Edina helped barricade the doors and windows. Edina said there was enough food to last for a few weeks. Daddy was kind to her, allowing her to stay in the main house and share our meals.

             
I went upstairs to my room. I tried to call my mother who I think was in France. The last time I saw her was a month ago when I visited her in Prague. I tried calling three times before it started ringing. I heard my mother’s voice but she didn’t answer. I left a message that things were bad here and to please call me. I never heard my mother’s voice again. I did not know if she was alive or dead.

             

             
It was 9am when we were first able to get Mike on the CB. Dave, a rough man who hated me, didn’t bother asking me to call him. He held the CB in one hand and the wheel with the other. Now that the sun was out, Dave was able to maneuver around broken down cars and potholes. He was glad for my gun when it mattered. I hadn’t taken the Xanax today. I didn’t know why.

BOOK: End of the Line
7.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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