Apocalypse: An Anthology Part 5

Shannon's anger could no longer be contained. She reached into her backpack and felt the cool metal against her fingers.

"You think you're man enough to f.u.c.k me, you ugly son of a b.i.t.c.h? Bring it!"

The men laughed, and the one with the knife grabbed her by her hair with his free hand and spun her around to face him. He slammed her against the wall and then raised his knife. She stared at him, never flinching, as she heard the jeering encouragement of his comrade. He brought the knife forward and stuck it in the wall next to her head. She smiled and he blinked.

"Dumb f.u.c.king a.s.shole!!"

The backpack fell from her grasp and she brought her knee up full force and connected with his groin, knocking the wind out of him, which caused him to lose his grip on her and step backwards.

"b.i.t.c.h!"

He looked up, but before he could utter another word, she slammed the end of the L Bracket into his chest. He looked down as she pulled it out and had only time to gasp as she jammed the end of the bracket up through his chin. In a split second his eyes grew dark. She pulled the weapon from his head and turned. The other man pointed his gun at Shannon. He snarled and just as he pulled the trigger, Josh pushed his captor's arm away. The gun went off, a bullet streaking down the hallway, stopping in a wall. Shannon was already moving and without hesitation plunged the bracket through his eye. She slowly pulled it out and watched as he fell to the ground limp. She looked down at both of them, and then she heard Max. He was whimpering.

"Oh, G.o.d, Maxie...no, sweetheart."

"C'mon, Shannon...I'll carry him...we have to go!!"

"You knew them?"

"Part of that group I told you about...come on...please, baby...we gotta go!!"

Shannon got up as Josh gingerly picked up Max. She picked up her brackets and placed them in her backpack. Then she grabbed the duffle and shouldered her pack. Josh started to walk up the stairs and took a door that led to the street. She followed him several blocks when he stopped in front of a repair shop.

"My left pocket, there are keys in there...grab them, please."

She placed her hand in his pocket and let her finger curl around a key chain and pulled it out.

"That one...with the blue hat thingy on it...unlocks the chain there on the garage door," he said.

"What is this place?"

"My Grandfather...his friend owned this place and he always had a key...he kept his car here when he couldn't drive it anymore. I can't believe it's still standing."

Shannon put the key in the lock and turned, allowing the arm to pop from its chamber. She lifted the lock from the chain, let it fall, and pulled the door to the right, sliding it along its track, and then the other. There sat a pristine blue, four-door sedan. Josh moved into the garage and motioned to the back door. Shannon tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. She tried harder.

"Babe... the key..."

"Stupid..." she hissed under her breath.

Josh tried to hide a smile as she unlocked the car and then opened the door. Josh gently laid Max on the back seat and then turned and ran into the office. Shannon dropped the duffle and backpack and knelt down next to Max, stroking his head. He seemed alert, just in pain.

"My poor baby..."

Josh reappeared carrying a big blue box. He slid it onto the floor of the back seat, grabbed the backpack and placed it next to it.

"Get in the car, Shannon...c'mon!!"

Shannon stood up, consumed with worry, and gently closed the back door, opened the front pa.s.senger side, and slid in. Josh had grabbed the duffle and placed it in the trunk, then opened the driver side and slid in.

"Keys, please."

Shannon handed him the keys and looked at him. He gave her a quick smile and then grabbed her face, kissing her deeply. He turned his attention back to the car and closed his eyes.

"Please start..."

He placed the key in the ignition and turned. The car sputtered, and then roared to life. He pulled out slowly and drove around the wreckage and debris of the city. Then he gave it gas and headed toward the mountains. The roads were fairly clear and soon they were out of the city and racing to the forest. Shannon watched the dark and spa.r.s.e destruction they had once called home slowly disappear as the green of the forest loomed before them.

They had been travelling for about an hour when they pulled over to a.s.sess Max's injuries. He was able to move now and he could breathe and eat. They a.s.sumed he must have cracked ribs. He winced when they touched his side. Shannon taped him up as best she could and gave him some water.

The sun hung low in the sky as they hurried deeper into the forest. The orange and pinks of the impending sunset danced against the clouds. As they drove, Josh finally looked over at Shannon.

"I never would have given you to them...I hope you know that."

She smiled.

"If I'd thought you would have, I would have killed you then and there."

He smiled back.

"So...you still want to be with me?" he asked.

She sighed and then smiled. She had spent most of her life looking for someone she could connect with and now at the end of the world, she found him. A man she had known for less than forty-eight hours. A man she knew relatively nothing about, but he wanted to be with her.

"Yes, yes, I do...you know...you don't even know how old I am, Josh."

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me... but it might to you."

"Naw... I've always been into older women...guess you're just not used to being a cougar."

Shannon laughed. She had always loved laughing, but now...now she really felt it. The warm rumble as it moved through your body, coating everything in joy.

"No, I guess not."

"Seriously though, do you even know how hot you are?"

Shannon smiled and shook her head.

"Oh, yeah..." he said. "What you did back in the hallway...totally Bad a.s.s. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Thanks...I didn't either."

"But I have a question..."

"Yeah?"

"Why brackets?"

Shannon began laughing again and then explained her dream about the zombies.

"Who knew they would work so great against douche bags?" she said.

Josh laughed and nodded. Shannon smiled as she listened to him talk about his life before. She reached into the backseat, rubbing Max's head, and then she opened her pack and pulled out the photos she had placed in there. Then she reached deeper and pulled out her three photos. She looked at all of them and then she placed them on the dash and lightly touched his hand. He stopped talking and glanced at them. Then he looked at her and smiled. He turned back to concentrate on driving and she looked out the pa.s.senger window. He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"I love you," he said.

She smiled and watched the sun drop low in the sky as the trees whipped by and she wondered...exactly how do you plant a garden?

WELCOME TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

(POPULATION: UNKNOWN).

R.M. GILMORE.

Dedicated to: My husband and daughter.

Neither of which could I ever live without.

Author Info: R.M. Gilmore, author of the Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult series and the Lynnie Russell Trilogy, resides in Central California with her husband, children and too many pets. You can find her work on Amazon.com, Barnes & n.o.ble, Goodreads.com, and Shelfari.com.

Connect with R.M. Gilmore: http://www.RMGilmoreAuthor.com http://facebook.com/RMGilmoreAuthor https://twitter.com/RMGilmoreAuthor Welcome to the End of the World It was a dark and stormy night.

Well, it might've been. I actually had no idea. I'd been shut away in my bas.e.m.e.nt for d.a.m.n near a week. At least, I think so. Can't really tell day or night when you're stuck underground. Something in your body has a general idea about the pa.s.sing of time, but there is no sure way to measure time when there is no power and no sun.

A little over a week ago the earth decided to s.h.i.+ft at its core. That's what the last news flash that came through on TV had said anyway. This triggered ma.s.sive earthquakes that demolished buildings, tore open the ground at our feet, and caused the cataclysmic eruption of a mult.i.tude of volatile volcanoes all over the world. What the molten lava didn't destroy the earthquakes had. It took just over twenty-four hours to turn our beautiful earth to smoldering rubble. What humans and animals had survived were left strangled by black ash that floated through every inch of air and snuffed out the sun.

By some G.o.dly miracle my husband and I survived. The earthquakes hadn't touched our area with enough intensity to demolish our home completely and we are lucky enough to live at elevations high enough to protect us from the flowing lava. There were floods in other areas of the world from what I'd heard on a quick blurb of newscast over our tiny radio in the kitchen before the power cut out completely but, thankfully, that was nowhere near here.

When the sun hadn't come back after a few days he and I made the rash decision to hole up in the bas.e.m.e.nt and wait it out. Our neighbors, what were left of them, were showing signs of hysteria and began fighting amongst themselves. Food was scarce and water was almost nonexistent. Some people were smart enough to fill their bathtubs or stockpile bottled water for such an event, but those people were few and far between.

My husband and I were grabbing what we could while we watched out our kitchen window. Someone we didn't recognize was wandering the neighborhood. He was tall and lean and carrying a large scythe as a weapon.

He'd ransacked the Morrison's house three doors down and was working his way toward us as we packed a grocery bag as quickly as we could. The man caught my stare and decided to forgo the others and move directly on to us. Maybe he was looking for a fight. Maybe he had more things in mind than stealing food and water. I wasn't sticking around to find out. I caught a smile spread across the strangers face just seconds before my husband pulled me by the arm to the bas.e.m.e.nt door.

We hadn't had much time to pack anything substantial. I managed to grab a handful of bottles of water and a book of matches off the kitchen counter. My husband had filled a plastic grocery bag with a few cans of beans and a box of cereal; a few scattered granola bars and a half a bag of chips lay pathetic at the bottom of the bag. This was all we had to our name. Our master plan, hide out and wait, was off to a dangerous start.

A few minutes after we'd locked ourselves in our miniscule bas.e.m.e.nt we heard the distinct sound of heavy boots clopping along the hardwood floor. The man was in the house. My husband pulled his shoes off and slowly pulled his sock clad feet up the wooden stairs. Thanks to the Cold War, the bas.e.m.e.nt door was made of a thick sheet of metal and boasts three large deadbolts, each one locked tight the moment the door closed behind us. It was unlikely the man could get to us, but the thought of us being trapped in the bas.e.m.e.nt as long as he was up there was beginning to sink in.

Maybe he'd take what he needed and leave. Maybe he'd use our home as a crash pad and move on. At that moment all I wanted was a light. The bas.e.m.e.nt was pitch dark. Tiny strips of light peered through the floorboards in our old, rundown, utility room that had been added on sometime in the eighties, but all it provided was something to look at while I listened for our intruder. I shuffled my feet in the sandy dirt floor of the bas.e.m.e.nt and received a prompt shush from my husband at the top of the stairs. He was listening at the heavy metal door. I doubted he could hear anything through that thick sheet of steel and laughed inside at the idiocy of it.

Cabinet doors banged against each other and the distinct sound of silverware clanking together filled the dark bas.e.m.e.nt. The stranger was searching the house. A few more bangs and sc.r.a.pes echoed through the hardwood floor before the silence began.

I stood as still as I possibly could. I don't even think I took a breath in that span of minutes. I didn't hear any movement from the top of the stairs where my husband stood either. Standing in the dark in complete silence causes a brain to search the empty s.p.a.ce for stimuli. But there was nothing. Not a sound for what could have been fifteen minutes. I heard the release of a sigh from my husband and I followed suit.

"I hear you." A gruff voice scratched its way through the cracks in the utility room floor.

I let out a squeal and nearly jumped out of my panties. I looked directly above me to find the slivers of light through the floorboards blocked by darkness. A huff of a breath came through the crack and spewed dirt down onto my face. The man had his face pressed against the floor above us, peeking through the cracks. I clamped my hands over my mouth and let out a heavy set of breaths. A rustling to my left and my husband was by my side in an instant.

The earth had cracked open and spewed fiery death upon everything it touched and this was the way I was going to die? A tiny piece of me accepted my fate. A piece that knew I'd been too lucky. The piece that mourned my only child, who'd been lost along with a handful of others who hadn't escaped the collapse of the school house, in the first set of quakes. That tiny piece wished to die. Prayed I'd see my beautiful girl again. Was ready to leave this horrific world that was left behind. My husband laced his fingers through my open hand and I remembered why I continued to survive. To fight for my life.

I knew my girl was gone, she was safe in the arms of the Lord and she'd never have to live in this new world, but my husband was still here and as long as he was here I would be by his side. Moreover, he'd be by mine, keeping me grounded to the earth, holding me up when all I wanted to do is fall. Until the true end, we were together.

"Come on up, my darling. Let me see you." A small chuckle followed his eerie words.

I'd been right. He was searching for far more than sustenance. I refused to answer. I refused to breathe.

"Open up the door and I'll share." A nasally snicker puffed more dirt through the cracks above me.

"You stay right where you are a.s.shole, you'll be waiting a while. Might as well move on. Take what you need and go," I yelled upward as loudly and forcefully as I could muster. The ash that floated in the air outside had penetrated the confines of our home within hours of the first eruptions. It was thick and clogged the lungs, causing a rattling, heavy cough. I fought the cough with all I could.

"I'll be waiting when you're ready." Another aggravating chuckle and the darkness in the cracks was gone. The light slivers shown just as brightly as before; as brightly as the ashen sky outside would allow.

That was just over four days ago, I think. The stranger moved about our house as though he'd lived there for years. All the while I tried to pretend he wasn't there. I focused on memories of my family, of my girl and my handsome husband, and tried so hard not to think about what could have been. I talked as quietly as I could to my only company in the dark, but it seemed as though my darling husband was drifting farther away with each pa.s.sing day.

Thankfully, my husband had directed me through the darkness, with surprising ease, to find his fis.h.i.+ng knife in his tackle box in the bas.e.m.e.nt. We were lucky I'd asked him to store his fis.h.i.+ng stuff in the bas.e.m.e.nt because it smelled horribly. If not, we'd have been left with five cans of food and nothing to open them with. Every few hours we'd light a match and allow our eyes to adjust or open a can of food, but other than those minor moments we lived in complete darkness.

The two of us talked very little over that long span of waiting. We were well aware the man was still right above us; we recognized that the world as we knew it was crumbling around us, and we couldn't do a d.a.m.n thing about it. I felt my will to live failing. My eyes hardly stayed open anymore. What was the point? I couldn't see s.h.i.+t anyway.

I spent the majority of my time listening intently to the creaks in the floor above me. The stranger peered down every day, or so I'm a.s.suming, and spoke to me. He never acknowledged my husband; he only ever spoke directly to me. He beckoned me sweetly; never forceful, never pleading, patient as he could be he requested my presence methodically. And methodically, I refused.

After this many days in the darkened bas.e.m.e.nt, sitting on the dirt floor, eating as little as possible, I was surprised my husband and I hadn't argued once. In our entire relations.h.i.+p this was a first. I suppose it took the end of the world to resolve our issues.

I was rustling in the bag of food when the stranger came to speak to me through the cracks in the floor.

"Are you ready to come see me? I've been waiting so long for you. Days and days." He took a deep, shuddering breath, "I need you to open that door, sweetness."

"In your dreams, douchebag. What you need is to move the h.e.l.l on," I hollered up through the floorboards.

"I can come down to you." I'd heard his snicker like a skipping record for so many days, this time was different. This snicker sounded confident. Confident that somehow he could get to me.

"Go to h.e.l.l!" I yelled, followed by my rattling cough.

"This is h.e.l.l." No chuckle, no snicker, no huff of dust down on my face. These words were true. Our world had been reduced to fire and brimstone in a matter of a day. It was h.e.l.l on earth.

I didn't respond. The stranger's comment sent chills down my aching spine. I reached out into the darkness for my husband, my salvation, my only saving grace from this h.e.l.l. My outstretched hand only pa.s.sed through damp air. He should've been just to my left, as he always was, but I found nothing. The floor above me was silent. I relaxed just a little, as I had so many times before, knowing he wasn't looking down on me through the cracks.