- - End of All Things, The (13 page)

“I learned in history class there used to be border guards who stayed out here to check to make sure each man had the required ton of supplies before allowing them to pass.”

Justin glanced at their wagon. “Puts it in perspective, doesn’t it?”

She stopped at the base of the flags. One more foot forward and she would leave Alaska for the first time and likely never see it again. She looked back over her shoulder for a long moment and was hit by the fleeting temptation to turn around and coast back down the mountain to Skagway. But she turned to face forward, to face the future, full of unknown perils and uncertainties. It was a long and winding road to an unknown destination, a road that would take courage to face. And she found she had that courage, the same courage her history teacher had said drove the gold miners onward when there was just a narrow trail through these mountains.

Perhaps it was because the border was so anticlimactic, but Carly was much happier when Justin told her that night they would make it to Fraser the next day. “Seven miles, all downhill,” he said, and in the morning she was eager to go, wolfing down her eggs and coffee with gusto. She couldn’t have said why seeing buildings and some measure of civilization was so important to her, but she was excited to get moving.

The downhill trek would have been more fun if Justin hadn’t been such a killjoy about her speed. He insisted she take it slow and easy, and Carly teasingly stuck her lower lip out at him. He reminded her that the animals couldn’t keep up such a pace, which convinced her to slow down.

Justin gazed around them, his eyes wide as he took in the vista before them. “Carly, are you seeing this? It’s
beautiful
.”

Carly had to admit she hadn’t noticed it. She’d grown accustomed to the majestic views, but she supposed someone from Omaha would find them incredible even if he had seen them once before on the way into the state. The awe on his face made her take another look at the jagged mountains over the sparkling water in the valley below, an image she engraved in her heart, knowing as she did, she was unlikely to ever see it again.

Fraser had only about half a dozen buildings, including a corrugated metal customs hut in a repulsive shade of yellow-brown and a small collection of identical split-level houses for road crew workers. Beside the tracks stood a red clapboard railroad station with a train parked in front of it. Carly nudged Justin with her elbow when they dismounted at the edge of town. “Can you drive one of those?” she challenged.

“Nope, you got me,” he said with a grin. “Never had an occasion to drive a train.”

“Yeesh, look at that thing.” Carly pointed to the strange, fan blade-like machine on the front of the train. Sam trotted around sniffing at the wheels.

“I think it’s a snowplow for the tracks. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before.”

He wandered over to look at it, and Sam bounded after him. Carly headed toward the train station. The door was unlocked and she walked inside the silent and stuffy building. A pair of restrooms was in front of her, and to the left a door led into the rest of the building. It creaked when she pushed it open, and she had only a moment to gather an impression of a large, dusty room with an office desk before a blinding pain slammed across her upper arm and back. She was knocked to the floor by the force of it and saw a man standing above her, holding a two-by-four. In her old life, he was the kind of man she would have asked for directions—a plump, pleasant-looking man in his mid-fifties wearing rimless glasses. But behind the lenses, his eyes gleamed with gleeful hate.

“The black cowboy says you’re the seventh!” He drew out the “s” sounds with a snakelike hiss and swung the board down. Carly rolled, avoiding the blow, which would have probably crushed her skull. The man howled and dropped the board from the painful vibrations of striking the floor, and Carly scrambled to her feet to dart around the back of the desk. The man charged at her, and Carly grabbed the back of the office chair and slung it at him. He tripped over it as she had intended but regained his footing and lunged at her with an inhuman screech. “You won’t take my petals!”

Sam burst through the door and used the top of the desk as a launch pad to pounce on the man with a vicious snarl. He sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder, and the man screamed in pain. He punched Sam in the side, and Sam went sprawling with a high-pitched yelp from the force of the blow. Carly fumbled at her belt and pulled the gun out of its holster. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning as the man surged to his feet and barreled at her. She pulled the trigger as fast as she could, nailing him with three shots to the chest. It didn’t stop his momentum; he plowed into Carly and knocked her flat on her back, landing on top of her with a bone-rattling thud.

“Get
off
me!” She shoved him to the side and scrambled over to Sam, who had gotten to his feet and was testing out his legs. Carly grabbed his collar and hauled him toward the door. Her only thought was to get them out of there and away from the crazy man.

“Jesus Christ!” Justin shouted as he ran toward her. He caught her as she staggered out the door. “Where are you hurt? Show me, Carly. Where are you hurt?”

She realized she was still holding the gun, and the front of her body was soaked in blood. Justin yanked up her shirt. “It’s not me, it’s not me. Check Sam.”

“What the
fuck
?”

“I shot the man,” Carly said. “I shot him.” She looked at the gun still in her hand and released it. It dropped to the gravel with a dull clatter, and Carly swayed on her feet.

A mantle of icy calm fell over Justin. “Tell me what happened.”

Carly pointed. “The crazy man, he tried to hit me—he
did
hit me. With a b-board. He was crazy. He—he was going to k-kill me.”

“Stay here,” Justin ordered. He dashed inside the building as he drew his own gun. Carly sank down until she was sitting on the ground. She spotted a penny mashed down into the gravel. She picked it up and rubbed off the dust with her finger. Canadian. Sam, limping with every step, circled around Carly as though trying to guard her on all sides.

Justin’s boots crunched on the gravel again when he returned. He took her by the arm, and Carly cried out in pain. Without a word, he whipped her shirt over her head and examined her arm and back.

“Check S-Sam,” Carly said. “He got p-punched.”

Justin said nothing. He was gently prodding Carly’s arm. He moved to her back, pressing all around the wound. He let out a relieved breath and handed Carly her shirt. He felt over Sam’s ribs with the same gentle prodding. Sam whined but endured it.

“There’s one hell of a vicious bite on that man’s shoulder.” He rubbed Sam’s ears gently. “Good boy, Sam.”

Carly started to pull her shirt back over her head and then recoiled from the blood. She tossed it aside with a grimace.

Justin scooped up the gun and helped Carly to her feet, keeping a grip on her forearm. Her body shook from adrenaline, and she felt a cold flutter in her stomach. “Is he dead?”

“Yeah, Carly. He’s dead.”

She nodded. “Excuse me.” She staggered over to the side of the road and lost her breakfast, from the pain as much as from the shock. She’d killed someone and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Justin’s large, warm hand was on her back. He held out a bottle of water to her. Carly took a small sip and swished out her mouth. She handed it back to him. “I’m sorry.”

“For wandering off like that? You should be. You nearly got yourself killed.”

“No, I mean for wussing out and getting sick.”

“I did the same thing.” He stared off into the distance for a moment and his voice was low and gruff. “The first time I killed someone, I puked, and
then
I cried. It’s not supposed to be easy, Carly.”

“Can we—Can we please move on, Justin?”

“Yeah, honey, we can. You want to rest for a minute?”

She shook her head and climbed onto her bike. As soon as she tried to lean forward to grip the handlebars, she knew she couldn’t do it. Pain ripped through her back where the board had struck her. She glanced over and saw Justin hadn’t tried to mount his own bike. He was watching her, waiting for her to say she couldn’t ride. But why?

Probably so he doesn’t have to listen to you yammer on about how you can do it
, her mind helpfully supplied. She flushed and dismounted from the bike. The compassion in his eyes made it a bit worse. Was she really that predictable? She tried for dignity. “Should we set up camp here or try another one of those buildings?”

“I’m going to check out the houses. Rest here, all right?”

She nodded. 

“Sam, stay,” he ordered and Sam gave a little “woof” of agreement. She leaned her bike against the wagon and sat down in its shade. Sam lay down beside her and pillowed his head on her thigh, though he remained alert, his ears locking in on any sound. He sighed, puffing air out the sides of his muzzle, and Carly stroked his head. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. I hope your ribs aren’t hurt.” 

He licked her hand.

“It’s so strange,” she told him. “It’s already starting to feel like a dream I had instead of reality. I know I had to, but . . .” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. Do you think he had family? Friends? At one time, I bet he did. Before the Infection, at least, even if he doesn’t now.”

Gravel crunched and she looked over her shoulder to see Justin approaching. She stood.

“I found us a house,” he said. “And I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you.”

She followed him up the hill without much interest. They walked inside the house, and Justin flipped a switch. The lights came on.

Carly jumped and gasped. “How is this
possible
?”

“There was an article on the refrigerator. They have a micro-hydro station. The electricity is generated by the creek, powering a turbine.”

“Oh my God, Justin, does this mean . . .”

He grinned at her. “Hot showers!”

Carly burst into tears.

Justin took her into his arms and stroked her hair. “Hey, honey, no reason to cry.”

But she couldn’t stop. A tumult of emotions, into which guilt and some leftover adrenaline were stirred, had broken loose, and she had to get them out. He murmured to her while she wept and waited until the storm had passed. He led her to the living room and instructed her to lie down on the sofa. Sam lay down on the floor right in front of her, his head pillowed on his paws. 

Justin returned in a moment with a few bags of frozen vegetables in his hands.

“I really don’t feel like cooking now,” she said with a wry smile.

He chuckled. “They’re for your back. Lie on your stomach.”

She realized at that moment she wasn’t wearing a shirt. Her sports bra was more concealing than a bikini, and she’d worn it several times in the gym with nothing over it. But she was acutely aware of the amount of skin she was showing. Justin didn’t appear to be. He laid a towel over her back and then put the frozen vegetables on top of it. “I’ll get you something for the pain and swelling.”

“No,” Carly said. “Save it. We may need it later.”

“Just over-the-counter stuff, honey. We can find more. In fact, I bet if I look in the medicine cabinet, I’ll find a bottle of it.”

He went upstairs instead of out to the wagon and returned with a bottle of naproxen, and he dumped out a number of tablets. “Take two of these and call me in the morning.”

She didn’t get it.

“Sorry, old joke. Here.” He dropped the tablets in her hand and got her a bottle of water with which to take them. She tossed them back into her mouth and swallowed them before stretching out on the sofa with her head resting on her arms. She watched as he pried open Sam’s mouth and expertly shoved a pill into the back of his throat before Sam even realized what had happened. Sam gave Justin an offended look and huffed as he lay back down.

“I’ll be right back,” Justin said. “You all right for a few minutes?”

Carly nodded. It was a lie; she didn’t want to be alone. But she didn’t want Justin to think she was a coward, either. She heard the front door open and gazed around the room to take her mind off being alone.

The house was sternly utilitarian, with no attempt at decoration on the white walls. The carpet was plain beige, as was the cloth sofa upon which she lay. Two matching recliners shared the other wall, and all of the seating pointed at a television.

Television!
They had electricity! The remote control lay on the end table between the sofa and the recliners. Carly grabbed it and turned the television on. A place this remote would have satellite, and sure enough, the remote bore the logo of one of the satellite companies. She turned it on and began to flip through the channels.

No signal.

No signal.

No signal.

Carly tried every channel, and none of them showed anything but a black screen with those two words. She turned off the television and dropped the remote back on the end table. Sort of silly of her to hope for anything different, she thought, but tears still stung her eyes. Modern America was truly gone if there was no television.

No more
American Idol
. No more evening news. No more daytime soap operas. At that moment,
The Young and the Restless
should have been on. It had been her daytime guilty pleasure when she wasn’t working. No more commercials, even. She would have given anything just to see an infomercial, something that would tell her there was someone out there, and that somewhere there was a pocket of normalcy. Justin had told her there was no
normal
anymore, but she still couldn’t force herself into believing it. 

He came back inside with the bag in which they’d been storing their dirty clothes. “I’m going to toss these in the washer.” His eyes sharpened as he took in her glum expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just being dumb again. I tried the TV.”

He came over, crouched down beside the sofa, and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. Can . . . Is there anything I can do for you right now?”