Geoff North - How the World Ends

“Get those pants off,” Louie wheezed. “The ticks are all over you!”

“I can’t! The thing’s going to tear my fucking leg off!”

Louie managed to work his hands up under Roy’s armpits. He braced his feet against one buckled wall and started to push. Roy sensed in his fear what he was trying to do and kicked at the cow’s face again. The heel jammed into its other eye, and Roy pushed back with all of his remaining strength. He heard the laces on his boot begin to snap against the teeth as his trapped foot started to pull free. The black slime on his pants was working its way towards his crotch.

The boot remained in the animal’s mouth, and Roy’s foot slid out. He unbuckled his belt and pushed down on the waistband of his pants with quivering hands. Both Roy and Louie squeezed up into a corner of the overturned shed. The cow coughed the boot out; its grey, swollen tongue whipped against the metal wall like a grounded fish. The wooden window frame began to splinter apart as more of the beast’s body pushed through the opening.

“We’re fucking dead,” Roy cried. He had pushed the tick-covered pants away, but it would only buy them a few more seconds. Something outside smashed up against the wall they were cowering against. Another enraged cow was pushing them towards the snapping jaws of the one jammed in the window frame.

Multiple gunshots fired from somewhere outside. Part of the cow’s head disappeared in a red spray and splattered against the metal wall inches from Roy and Louie. The snorting and snapping ceased. The cow went limp, its body settled onto the ground. Its head went still at an awkward angle still lodged in the window frame.

There were more gun shots, and the smashing behind them stopped. Whatever was ramming into their backs was as dead as the thing hanging in front of them. Louie continued counting the number of shots outside. Three, four, five… six. It was a heavy, thumping sound—more cannon than gun barrel. It had to be a powerful weapon indeed to tear open the thick skull of the dead cow in front of them. Finally the shooting ended, and Louie’s ears rang.

A woman’s muffled voice called out. “Is anybody in there?”

Another female voice responded. “Well something alive is definitely in there. Those infected cattle wouldn’t have tried tearing it apart if there wasn’t.”

Roy’s fat face was stuck up against Louie’s cheek. He whispered. “Should we answer?”

Louie shook his head adamantly. “Not yet. Listen.”

The voices continued mumbling for a few more moments, and then one of the women laughed. “It’s probably a stray cat, or maybe a racoon crawled in through the window. We wasted a lot of good ammunition on a critter. Let’s go.”

The black slime covering Roy’s discarded pants had crawled back up into the animal’s opened brains. It started winding its way back down the side of the wall in a half dozen separate trails. It would be on the men in seconds if they didn’t act.

Roy cried out. “Help us! We’re still alive! Don’t leave us in here!”

The door started tearing open a few seconds later. A sharp piece of metal jutted through the crack and settled on the door’s edge. It was a garden hoe, Louie realized. The cattle killers were reefing back on the door, using the tool for leverage. Roy kicked at it, dislodging more duct tape and bent metal. The shed was on its side, and the door was stuck on a horizontal level four feet off the ground. It finally gave way with a squeal and dropped downwards.

The men saw their rescuers for the first time. They were clad in baggy one-piece yellow suits that looked like plastic. Bright red strips ran down the arms, and thicker bands of the same color were sown into the chest and back areas. They reminded Louie of the hazmat suits the scientists wore back in the DSC. These ones didn’t look as thoroughly sealed, however. Judging by the heavy appearance of the material, he guessed they were meant to be more fire retardant than disease resistant. Louie’s view was cut off suddenly as Roy planted an elbow in his face and pushed himself up and out of the mangled tool shed. Louie crawled out seconds after, mindful to keep as much distance possible between him and the snaking trails of microscopic ticks.

Roy stood on his feet and waved his arms above his head. “We’re unarmed. Please… don’t shoot us.”

The woman holding the impossibly large rifle in her hands pointed the weapon at his chest. “Back up, big boy. Nice and slow.”

Roy took a step back, the other woman pushed him a few more feet with the end of the hoe. “You heard the lady. Back the fuck up. Let’s get a good look at you.” He did as he was told. The back of his foot caught on the hoof of another dead cow, and Roy ended up on his rear end in the dirt.

“What the hell were you two doing in there?” The one with the hoe asked.

Her friend pointed the rifle towards the general vicinity of Roy’s dirty underwear. “I think it’s pretty obvious what they were about to do.”

“It isn’t like that,” Louie said.

“Fuck no!” Roy added.

The taller woman tossed the hoe down and removed her gas mask. Dirty blond hair fell to her shoulders. She was pretty—even through all the sweat and strands of hair stuck to her patchy red forehead. Light freckles covered her cheeks and her eyes were the palest shade of grey Louie had ever seen. “It really doesn’t matter to us how you guys get your kicks. There’s not that many people left to judge what any of us do anymore.”

“Grace! Get your mask back on.”

“Relax. The air won’t kill us that fast. Damn thing’s too hot, anyway. Go on—take yours off and we’ll introduce ourselves to the fellas.”

“Not here… away from the cattle.”

The black mists were crawling about the dead animals, spreading out, and moving towards the sound of their voices. Louie and Roy didn’t need any more prodding. They followed the one called Grace at a quick jog as the other kept the gun trained on their backs. They moved to the front of the farm house where an ATV with a small open trailer hitched to the back sat waiting. The woman with the rifle placed her weapon onto the pile of junk accumulated in the trailer and started to remove her mask. Roy took his opportunity when the bulky mouth filter was covering her eyes and kicked out towards her stomach. The bare heel of his other foot sank in the soft ground, and he slipped, missing the woman by inches. Grace yelled out a warning, but the other woman was already reacting. She threw the mask at Roy as he continued stumbling back, trying to keep his balance. The metal filter struck his chin with a crack, Roy fell to the ground again on his side.

The woman went for her gun, but Roy’s enraged speed didn’t allow her enough time to grab it. He was on his feet and lunging. Roy swung a giant arm through the air that would’ve snapped her neck if she hadn’t been quick enough. Unfortunately for Roy, she was. A knee landed in the soft pillow of his gut, knocking out whatever air was left in him. He fell to his knees, gagging, and struggling for breath, but the woman wasn’t finished with him yet. She drove an elbow into the center of his back, flattening him completely into the dirt. A knife almost as long as her forearm appeared in one hand, and she had the blade pressed up to Roy’s throat before he could even think of trying to get back on his feet.

The fight—if it could be called that—had lasted less than five seconds.

“Don’t do it, Fiona. Let’s just leave the assholes here and head back.”

Louie didn’t say a word. A part of him hoped she would slit the fat man’s throat wide open. God knows he deserved no better.

“Nah, I’m not going to kill the pig. We’re taking them with us to Odessa.”