Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (40 page)

I sigh. “We’ve got to deal with a half-grown cat and the world’s dumbest dog, and you’re telling me to be optimistic?”

“Pete, don’t bother,” Nelly says with a chuckle. “She’s too stubborn.”

I make a face at him and tell Bits to find the twine in my bag. Bits hands it to me and asks, “Are we making a leash?”

“No way. Have you ever tried to walk a cat? If I can give you one solid piece of advice in your life, it’s this: Never tie something around a cat’s neck and try to take it for a walk. I speak from experience.”

I kiss her cheek when she giggles. Sparky attacks the string as I try to fasten it around her, but in the end I fashion a rudimentary harness. “I’m sure she still won’t like it, but at least she won’t strangle herself.”

“I love you,” Bits says, and throws her arms around me. It’s so unexpected and genuine that my eyes fill. I’ll get her to Alaska, to safety, if it’s the very last thing I ever do in this miserable world.

“I love you,” I say, and try not to choke on the words. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

Bits takes Sparky from my lap and smiles at Peter. “That’s infinity, you know.”

She and Hank set the cat down in the grass and stand guard. Sparky makes a run for it, only to be yanked back by the harness. I can’t help but laugh; I knew it would happen.

“I like that,” Peter says. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

“Me, too.”

I think it’s time to retire
Until the end of the world and after.
The world has been over for a while, and we live in the after. It’s become completely attainable.

Peter gazes out the windshield at the orange-streaked sky. “Are they really infinite?”

I picture Dan on the ambulance roof. Maybe he was telling me to keep watching, or that he’d be up there, or maybe even that he loved me. I wish I knew because they were his last words, and somebody should have heard them. I ignore the rock in my stomach and say, “No one knows for sure, but we’ve decided they are.”

Peter nods and continues his watch of the clouds. I imagine he’s thinking about Ana, and I touch his shoulder before I leave to set up the stove.

“Coffee?” I ask Penny.

Penny looks longingly at the coffee packets. She slept last night but doesn’t look as if she has. “I’m not supp—”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Penny offers to finish the coffee in her enthusiasm for a cup. I brush my teeth, visit the Ladies’ Bush, and then stretch out in the grass. Everything aches. I’m exhausted and weighted down. I look around at the faces we have with us, but all I see are the ones who aren’t here. The holes they’ve left. The emptiness.

I know we all won’t make it to Alaska. Some of us will, maybe, but not all of us. Not by a long shot. There will be more holes, more empty spaces. The thought is so disheartening that I want to stay in this spot and let the grass grow over me. My forced determination evaporates, leaving only the belief that we’re going to die, one by one. I wish Ana were here—she’d screech at me to buck up and then make me run a mile, for fun. And John might have been able to get us all to Alaska or at least give me faith that it was possible.

Peter walks over and nudges me with a foot. “Coffee’s done. Ready to go?”

He follows my line of vision, and I can tell by the way he slumps that he also sees those empty spaces. But then he straightens his shoulders and extends a hand. I don’t know how he manages to conjure up a smile. Years of living with ghosts, perhaps.

“Everything’ll be all right,” Peter says.

I can see that he believes it, as crazy as that may be. And that he needs me to believe. Maybe it’s something you can choose to believe. You make it all right, no matter what gets thrown at you. Maybe happiness is something you can decide on. It has to be better than the alternative. I don’t think pessimism suits me. He pulls me to my feet, and I hold tight on our way to the bus.

Bits laughs at something Hank whispers in her ear, maybe one of his jokes. He blinks like an owl, and I feel my fierce protectiveness for Bits expand to include this smart, funny little boy. He may act older than his ten years, but he still needs a mother.

I look down the westward road. It’s so barren, so lonely-looking, so filled with the unknown. It looks like it stretches on forever. It certainly feels like it does. I don’t see how it can possibly be all right.

But then I see Nelly and Adam share a kiss before they climb into the pickup. I watch Jamie put her arm around Ashley’s shoulders and guide her to the camper. Kyle flashes me one of his rare grins when I smile at Nicole, who plays the drums on her father’s head from her seat on his shoulders.

There’s still so much love in the world. So much to hope for. And so much to lose. But if I concentrate on the former hard enough, I can almost believe it, too. I’ve had my chance to break down, to fall apart, to be overcome by helplessness and hopelessness. But not anymore—I’m never going to let this world get the best of me again.

“Yeah,” I say, and squeeze Peter’s hand before I let go. “It’ll be all right.”

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All the Stars in the Sky
(Book 3) Coming winter 2014

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Sarah Lyons Fleming is a Laura Ingalls devotee, wannabe prepper and lover of anything pre-apocalyptic, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic—or anything in between. Besides an unhealthy obsession with home-canned food and Bug Out Bag equipment, she loves books, making artsy stuff and laughing her arse off.

Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, she now lives in Oregon with her family and, in her opinion, not nearly enough supplies for the zombie apocalypse. But she’s working on it.

Thanks to the usual suspects, and some new ones:

My many parents, who read, reread and love my work. For my mom and dad, who read it so many times they must have it memorized. And Mama P, who caught many of those last sneaky typos. I’m so grateful for all of your love and encouragement.

Jamie, whose enthusiasm rivals my own, and who hasn’t yet stopped answering the phone when I call for moral support. Seriously, you’re the best. And Jamie’s friend, Tracy, who also treats my drafts with a ton of excitement. You ladies are my first fangirls!

Rachel Greer, who gave me some great advice to stop smiling all. the. damn. time. She knows what I mean.

Danielle, for reading and proofing. Not only is she excited for the story, but she tells it like it is.

Rachel Aukes, for her helpful comments and for happily (I hope!) answering a few pesky emails.

Linda Tooch, for proofing and giving her honest opinion.

Will Fleming, husband and editor, both jobs at which he excels. Once again, he kept me on the straight and narrow in terms of grammar and clarity. When it comes to writing, he doesn’t let me get away with anything. But he lets me get away with plenty in real life, and that’s just the way I like it.