In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel (12 page)

Thunder cracked and rumbled and a torrent of rain pelted the
roof of the motorhome, startling Monica out of her sleep. She had only meant to
rest for a minute before tending to Trey’s wound. Now she worried that he may
have bled to death while she napped right next to him. She looked at him and
saw that he was still breathing. She went to remove the towel from his head but
it was stuck. She put it back down, grimacing, hoping she hadn’t reopened the
wound.

She wanted to get the towel wet to
see if she could carefully pull it away from the wound without pulling away the
clotted blood with it. She went into the small bathroom and turned on the
faucet. As she had feared, there was no water. She could hear plenty of water
falling above her head though. She looked out the window and saw rainy snow
blowing almost sideways in the fierce wind. She just needed a way to get some
of it.

She went in to the kitchen of the
RV and found a plastic cup in a cabinet. She went outside and looked in both
directions and saw water slowly pouring off of a rain spout attached to the
gutter on the RV’s roof. She ran over to it and braced herself against the wind
as she waited for the cup to fill.

She slowly poured the water onto
the towel and was able to unstick it from Trey’s head. She saw that the blood
on his head was shiny in places, but it didn’t appear to be bleeding. She was
glad that it stopped on its own. She was not good at dealing with blood and
injuries. She assumed that the wound should probably be cleaned but she wasn’t
up to the task. Her goals had been to get Trey out of the cold rain, and to
stop the bleeding. Having done that, she felt that she had repaid him for
helping her.

She sat on the bed looking at him
and remembered hearing some warning about people with head wounds. She wasn’t
sure what she had heard. Then she remembered what it was: never let a person
with a concussion go to sleep. No, that couldn’t be right. People had to sleep
eventually. But she was sure that a person was supposed to be kept awake for
some period of time after a concussion. She wondered if the same rule applied
if the person had been knocked unconscious and remained unconscious for a few
hours. To be safe, she decided she better wake him up.

First she took off her soaking wet
socks and put them in the bathroom sink. The skin on her toes felt funny,
almost painful. She lifted a foot and saw that her toes were white and
wrinkled. She felt dumb for falling asleep with wet socks on. She went back to
Trey and wasn’t sure how to wake him. He might have other injuries that weren’t
visible. What if she pushed on his chest and he had a broken rib? She assumed
that since he had landed head first, his feet were probably uninjured so she
grabbed one of his boots and started shaking it.

“Trey.
Wake up.”

Trey groaned and rolled over onto
his side, pulling his feet away from her and bending his knees into a fetal
position. Monica looked at him for a second then walked to the side of the bed
and slapped him on his ass.

“What the hell?” Trey rolled over
and was shocked to see Monica standing there looking at him and shaking her
hand in pain.

“I’m glad you could feel me
spanking your wallet. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“What happened? Where are we?” Trey
sat up on the bed and winced in pain. He brought his hand to his head where the
pain was and he felt something unexpected. He looked at his hand and saw spots
of blood. He looked at Monica, confused.

“You crashed my van into a
telephone pole and went flying out the window and hit your head. You probably
have a concussion and need to stay awake.”

“Fuck.
Really?
Where are we? Sounds like an RV in a windstorm.”

“It is. The RV is in the driveway
right next to where we crashed. No one was home who could help us, but the keys
were in the ignition, so…” She shrugged. “Here we are.”

“How did I get in here? You
couldn’t have carried me.”

“You’re right. I dragged you. And
it wasn’t easy. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I had to
get you up into this thing after I dragged you to it. I’m kinda proud of
myself. How does your head feel?”

“It hurts like a bitch. I don’t
suppose you have any aspirin, or something stronger maybe?”

“I’ll see if I can find anything.”

Monica left for a minute and came
back carrying a small white plastic case. She set it on the bed and undid the
hasp. Inside were paper packets of aspirin and acetaminophen, some gauze, a
small pair of scissors and bandages of various sizes. She handed him the
aspirin.

“There’s some water in that cup
over there, but it came from the roof, so it’s probably nasty.”

Trey opened the packet and tossed
the aspirin back in his mouth and worked his saliva around to swallow them
without the water.

“You look awful. I’m sorry about
what happened to you. I didn’t know…” Trey turned away, unable to face her
because of his part in the home invasion that led to her being raped.

“Hey. You saved me. You stopped
him, and you got me away from him. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He looked back at her. “But before
that, I helped him trick you into opening your door, and then afterwards, I
wrecked your van. I’m no hero, lady.”

“The minivan’s insured. As soon as
I can get to a phone I’ll call the police and the insurance company.” Trey look
startled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them you were with him. I don’t want to
get you in trouble. If we can get a ride to my house, I’ll wait long enough for
you to get away on your motorcycle before I call.” Trey continued to look at
her like there was something wrong.

“Oh shit,” he said, leaving his
mouth hanging open.

“I promise I won’t say anything. As
far as I know, I owe you my life. I won’t do anything to get you in trouble.”
She sat on the bed and put her hand on his leg. “I don’t blame you for what
happened. I’m lucky you were there. If you hadn’t been…”

“Monica, there ain’t no police to
call. The phones are down, remember?”

“They could be working by now. You
said there was an explosion. How bad could it be?”

“Really bad.
It wasn’t just an explosion. I mean, it was just an explosion, but the thing
is, it was nuclear.” Trey stared at her, waiting to see how she was going to
take such terrible news after everything else she’d been through.

“What blew up?”

“Uh… Denver. Monica, it was a
nuclear explosion.”

“You’re not serious. You said the
authorities wanted us to evacuate. They wouldn’t do that over a nuclear
explosion. What really happened?”

Trey looked down at the bed. How
could he convince her? “We made up the part about helping the Sheriff’s
deputies and needing to evacuate. Carl was looking for a house to raid because
we saw the mushroom cloud over Denver and he knew that no one could call the
cops. Most of them would’ve been killed when the bomb went off. And that’s why
he did what he did to you.”

Monica covered her mouth with one
hand and froze, staring at Trey. Now she believed him. He saw tears start to
flow from her eyes but she didn’t make a sound. He scooted over to her and put
an arm around her. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him. He lay
back on the bed and she went with him.

Trey stayed awake as she cried
herself to sleep. Her warmth and closeness gave him something to focus on which
helped take his mind off the pain in his head. He stroked her hair from her
head down to her lower back where it came to an end. After a while, he slept
too.

Carl continued drinking while Jeffrey built a fire. The more
he drank, the less his head hurt. After a while, the tavern got warmer and
started feeling less damp. Carl drank quickly out of boredom and because the
beer was free. Eventually, he could barely keep himself upright on his stool.

“I’m gonna lay down in the office.
Wake me up when the rain stops. I need to find a gun somewhere and take care of
some business.” He slid off his stool and grabbed the bar to steady himself,
then walked toward the dark hall.

“The forecast called for three days
of rain,” Jeffrey said.

Carl stopped.

“Are you
shittin
’
me?”

“I shit you not,” Jeffrey replied,
suppressing an urge to giggle. He’d always found that expression to be very
funny but he feared Carl would think he was indeed shitting him if he were to
laugh.

Carl turned around.

“Three fuckin’
days?”

“From what I heard, yes.” When Carl
glared at him, the urge to laugh went away.

“Aw, fuck! Don’t wake me up at all
then.” Carl continued down the hall and disappeared into the hallway that just
barely caught some of the flickering light from the fireplace so it wasn’t
completely dark.

A few minutes later, Jeffrey heard Carl
snoring and he wondered if he should slip away from the tavern. He had only
come for the money in the register and he had gotten that. He was surprised
that Carl hadn’t taken it from him. He was a pretty bossy guy, and he was
abusive too. Jeffrey admitted to himself that Carl scared him.

He should leave while the big man
was asleep, but he didn’t really have anywhere to go and he didn’t like the
idea of walking back in the rain to his friend’s house where he had probably
been over-extending his welcome on the couch. He could probably find a house
whose owners were in Denver when the bomb went off and wouldn’t be coming back.
That’s what he’d do. He just needed the rain and the wind to stop,
then
he’d find a car.

But maybe he ought to stick with
Carl for a little while. They might be able to help each other. Carl was
looking for a gun. Jeffrey knew where they could find guns.
Easy-peasy.
Maybe if he helped Carl get a gun, Carl would help him get a car.

Jeffrey walked over to the tavern
door to see what Carl was driving. He pulled the door open and it swung inward,
driven by the force of the wind. He got a quick glance at Carl’s ride and
pushed the door shut, putting his shoulder into it, fighting against the wind
that tried to push it open.

He couldn’t believe Carl was
driving a convertible with the top removed. It was a fantastic looking car, but
they definitely weren’t going anywhere in it until this rain stopped.

When Carl came shuffling out of the
dark hallway the next morning, he found Jeffrey already up and sitting next to
the fire reading a paperback he had found behind the bar. Carl couldn’t believe
it. Out there was a world, just waiting to be had, and this guy was sitting
here reading a book.

“Hey, Jimmy!” Carl yelled.

“It’s Jeffrey,” he said, looking up
from his book and hoping Carl didn’t take offense at being corrected.

“Whatever. I don’t want to sit
around this place for another day. Where’s the nearest gun store or pawn shop?”

Jeffrey put his book down on the
hearth. “I don’t know about that, but I know a place not far from here where
there’s plenty of guns and all the food you could possibly want.”

“What kinda place?” Carl was behind
the bar now, pouring himself a beer.

“It’s a small community of Mormons,
barely a mile from here.”

“Why the fuck would a
buncha
Mormons have guns and food?”

“They have to. Their church
requires it. I guess it must have to do with the End Times or something.”

“How do you know about this?”

“Well, I’ve been kind of down on my
luck lately, and a missionary I know told me where I could get some help from
his church. So I went there and they gave me food and clothes so I did some
work for them.  That’s when I heard that they store at least a year’s
worth of food in their basements, and there was plenty of talk about guns too.”

“That sounds perfect. When I finish
this beer, you’re gonna show me where this place is.”

“In the rain?”

Carl replied in a whiny voice,
“Yes, ‘in the rain!’ I told you, I ain’t
sittin
’
around here anymore. I need a gun. I got business I gotta tend to.”

They drove up the highway wearing
large Hefty garbage bags that Jeffrey had turned into makeshift ponchos. The
plastic rippled and fluttered in the heavy wind. Carl felt stupid wearing a
garbage bag but he conceded that he was much drier than he’d be without it.
Jeffrey told him where to turn off the highway and they followed a winding road
more than a mile into the woods.

The tree-lined road came to an end
at an intersection that looked like a roundabout but with a large grassy circle
with a brick wall lining half of the circle. They could turn left or right to
go around it. Approximately every ten feet there was a square hole in the wall
five feet up from the ground forming portals. On the other side of the walled
off circle there was a Mormon temple. Turning left or right at the intersection
led to the streets on either side of the roundabout.

“This is it. Pull over,” Jeffrey
ordered, not thinking. Carl scowled at him, but did as Jeffrey instructed.

“I planned on pulling over,” he
said, daring Jeffrey to doubt him.
“Now what?”

“Well, I guess we gotta get into
one of those houses without drawing any attention. Any one of them should do.
We can get guns, food and a car with a roof and then get away before anyone
finds out that we were here.”

Carl pushed his wet hair back and
mopped water off his forehead. His eyelids lowered as he tried to think of a
strategy. He thought they should back the car up till it was out of view, then
try sneaking back into the compound through the trees on the right and emerge behind
one of the houses. He didn’t think to tell Jeffrey his plan. He was just going
to do it. He reached toward the ignition to start the engine but stopped when
he heard a bell tolling.

He looked at the temple where the
sound was coming from. After three gongs, the bell stopped. Men ran out of the
houses and went out of view behind the brick wall in front of the temple. All
of them were carrying either rifles or handguns. Some had both.

“What the hell is going on here?
These people are fucking lunatics.”

“They’re actually really nice
people,” Jeffrey answered.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

A bearded face appeared in the
center portal that looked directly onto the intersection where Carl had stopped
the car.

“Hello!” the man shouted. “Do you
have business here?”

Carl and Jeffrey looked at each
other then looked back at the man. Neither of them spoke. Carl was trying to
think fast. This was a lot more difficult than bullshitting his way into
someone’s house.

“Are you FLDS?” the man inquired
after getting no response to his first question. He gave them only a few
seconds to respond. “You’re gonna want to turn that car around and head back
the way you came. This here’s private property.”

Carl didn’t know if they should
bother trying to talk their way in and then try to overpower someone, or just
find something easier like he and Trey had done yesterday. He thought he might
at least try bluffing a little and pretending they were lost and hungry, but
before he made up his mind, the man’s face moved away from the portal and the
barrel of a rifle came through it with the man holding it up to his shoulder
and looking through the iron sights.

“
Ya’ll
just go on now,” he yelled.

“Fuck it,” Carl spat. These people
didn’t fuck around. He started the engine. He backed the car up and was half
way through a 3-point turn when he spotted a car coming down the road from
behind them. He left his car sideways, blocking the road and quickly got out
and ran toward the approaching vehicle waving his arms above his head as if he
needed assistance.

The oncoming car slowed to a stop
thirty feet away. It was an old station wagon with two women in it. The man
behind the brick wall yelled something but Carl couldn’t make out what he was
saying, with the wind rattling the trees. It sounded like he was trying to warn
the women off. Carl ran up to the driver’s window.

“There’s a snake in my car rattling
its tail at my friend and he’s scared to move. You don’t have a pistol I could
borrow for a minute, do you? It might save his life!”

The woman in the passenger seat
quickly opened the glove compartment and took out a twenty-two caliber gun and
reached across the car, carefully handing it to Carl.

“Hurry,” she said. “We’ll pray for
your friend.”

Carl accepted the weapon, thumbed
off the safety and said, “Thank you. Now get the fuck out of the car.
Both of you.
Nice and slow.”

The women looked at each other,
disbelieving that they had just been betrayed by what they had assumed were
members of their congregation. This man was not a Saint.

“Get out of the car, now!”

The driver looked at Carl standing
in the rain getting drenched. “We need to get our umbrellas from the backseat.
Can you give us a second?”

“No, you need to get the fuck out
of the car before I shoot you in the face. How’s that sound?”

They saw the man behind the portal
shaking his head and gesturing to someone behind him. The driver opened her
door and Carl grabbed her as she stepped out. He pulled her in front of him,
holding her there by her upper arm. “You!” he said to the other woman. “Get in
front of her and start walking up to that red car, slowly.”

The other woman did as she was
told. Carl and his hostage followed directly behind her. Within seconds the
women were soaked and chilled from the relentless wind. When they reached the
car, he yelled to the man with the rifle, “We just need a few guns. Send
someone out with some and you can have your women back!” He was going to say he
wanted something better than a .22 but he didn’t want to advertise the caliber
of the gun he was holding.

Behind the wall, the men huddled
together. The man at the portal stayed where he was and told the others what he
was observing. A brief discussion took place about how to handle the situation.
Most of the men were willing to make the trade that Carl demanded. One man was
opposed to trading and had a better idea.

“He’s got my wife out there. If we
just give him what he wants, what’s to keep him from coming back again when he
want something else?” he asked the group.

“We weren’t prepared for this,
Noah. After we get rid of these two, we’ll build a barricade at the
intersection and we’ll post guards.”

“That’s fine for later, Stephen,
but he’s got my wife, and Sean’s wife, and he needs to be dealt with right
now,” Noah replied.

“How do you propose to deal with
him? He’s using your wife as a shield.”

“The one in the car is unarmed and
hasn’t even moved. I can take out the big one who’s got my wife’s .22. It’s an
easy shot from this distance.”

Carl yelled across the distance,
“I’m giving you thirty seconds and then one of these ladies is gonna get shot.
Ya hear me?”

“Are you sure you can hit him in
this wind?”

“Yeah.
Someone back me up at the next portal, just in case I miss. But I won’t.”

Noah turned around and relieved the
man at the central portal. That man ran to the left and stopped at the next
portal and propped his rifle up there, taking aim at Carl. He didn’t want to
shoot though with Noah’s wife standing in front of the man with the gun, and
Sean’s wife standing in front of her. It would be too easy to miss and hit one
of the women.

Noah took aim and yelled through
the portal.

“Let them go and we’ll give you
whatever you want!” Noah hoped that the man would be at least a little
distracted by their refusal to give in, and by having a counter-offer to
consider. He sighted in on the man’s head and squeezed his trigger.

Carl’s face was sprayed with blood
and bits of brain and bone fragments at the same instant he heard the shot
fired from behind the wall.

“Oh dear God!”
Noah screamed and collapsed, falling to the ground as a wave of shock and guilt
made his legs turn to water. “What have I done?”

Carl fired back at the portal as
the woman he was holding collapsed in front of him. The other woman screamed,
“Oh my
goll
!” and ran to the left past Carl’s car and
kept running alongside the border hedges on the south side of the property,
never looking back. Another man took up Noah’s place at the portal and began
firing a pistol at Carl.

Jeffrey ducked down in the car.
Carl’s shots sent chips of brick flying off the wall as he missed the portal
with every shot. He ran backwards toward the station wagon as he fired. Halfway
there, his pistol clicked. He was out of ammo. He put the gun in his pocket.

The men behind the wall were firing
repeatedly at him. He heard a bullet whiz past his head. Carl figured they were
pretty shitty with their weapons as he turned around to run the rest of the way
to the station wagon. Then one of them proved him wrong with a shot that hit
him in the back, turning him more than he had intended. He fell down facing his
car where Jeffrey was still ducked down out of sight.

Carl crawled the remaining few feet
to the station wagon and pulled himself inside, trying to keep his head low.
The engine was still running. He honked the horn twice. Jeffrey popped his head
up and looked toward the station wagon. Carl gestured for him to come. The
passenger door of the Roadster opened and Jeffrey got out and ran toward Carl.
He had only gone a few steps before Carl watched a cloud of red mist fly out of
Jeffrey’s face as he appeared to dive, his body pitching forward and sliding a
few feet on the asphalt.