Geoff North - How the World Ends

“Don’t forget, one of them had his pants off,” Fiona added.

Louie chuckled. “It was turning out to be one of our better days, actually. We’ve been sleeping in open fields and ditches most nights.”

“I can’t believe you,” Roy said. “Look what she’s done to my face! And now you’re trying to suck up to them. You spineless little shit.”

It was true. Louie was sucking up to them. He had been practicing the fine art of sucking up to pretty women and bigger men his entire life. Louie had never become true friends with any of them, but he had a quiet way of being tolerated. He found ways to make himself useful. And when Louie no longer needed someone to fit in with, or to protect his interests, he was pretty good at finding a way of disposing of them. His co-workers at the DSC had learned that the hard way.

Louie figured Roy’s usefulness had come to an end. “See what I’ve had to put up with the last few weeks? The man’s an animal. He’s been threatening to kill me the whole time we’ve been together.”

Roy’s jaw dropped open. “What? I’ve kept you alive.”

“Alive to torment me.” He looked at Fiona and Grace and then pointed at him, his hand shaking for effect. “He was going to rape me in that shed, you saw it for yourselves.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “You were right, we should’ve left them there.”

“It’s too late now. They’ve seen where we are… how to get down here. They might bring others—others carrying the sickness.”

“Then let’s kill them now and dump their bodies down one of the tunnels.”

Louie held both hands out, and they were genuinely shaking. “No! Not me! I know what the sickness is, I know how to fight it. You’ll need me!”

“You’re dead,” Roy whispered. “So fucking dead.”

“The man’s a cold-blooded killer,” Louie said. “I’ve heard him talk in his sleep about how he murdered all these people after the bombs dropped. I saw him bash in a defenceless woman’s face. He would’ve killed her too if I hadn’t talked him out of it.”

Fiona’s rifle swung towards Roy’s face again. “Is this all true, Piggy?”

Roy started to stammer. “He couldn’t know… I never said a goddamn thing… never hurt a fucking soul my entire life.” Fiona took aim at his crotch. Urine started trickling down Roy’s leg. “Oh please, don’t listen to him… none of it’s true.” Roy started to cry. “It was self-defence. People were looting and hurting each other… It was my job to try and keep control. I didn’t want to kill anyone. Please… believe me .”

Fiona pulled the trigger.

Their luck had improved after totaling the Audi. They found an abandoned but un-looted grocery store in a small town called Slug Lake about four-hundred miles north of the gravel pit they’d originally set out from. They filled the Buick’s big trunk with enough food and basic supplies to last half a year. The road began to deteriorate about another hundred miles on, and gave way to gravel. The gravel became a narrow mud trail with tall spruce trees choking in from either side.

“Are we still on Highway 10?” Angela asked.

A rusted sign a hundred yards ahead confirmed they were. “Almost glad my Audi didn’t make it this far,” Caitlan said from the back seat, squeezed in between Fred and the twins. “I wouldn’t want to drive it in this shit.”

“Language,” Hayden warned. Nicholas crawled up onto his knees and turned in the front seat to face her. He made a zipping motion with his fingers across his lips.

They continued on. The tarnished green forests deepened to smoky grey, and the clouds darkened a dirty mustard color. A cold mist settled on the Buick’s plastic windshield, forcing Hayden to pull over for the night. None of them slept well, and Amanda woke up at one point screaming about dead babies.

Morning wasn’t much of an improvement. The sky looked sick.

“How much further?” Michael asked.

“Another hour,” Hayden answered. “Maybe two.”

It ended up being four. The town of Odin Lake—sitting on the edge of the black body of water with the same name—was nestled in a small valley lined with forest as far the eye could see. There were half a dozen small houses built up into the hill with a single road that led down to a single gas station-general store. The old man running the place filled the Buick’s tank for free, explaining money had about as much use as dried dog turds these days.

Hayden asked if the retired teachers were still staying out at the island lodge.

“Paul and Joyce Baxter? You know them?”

“My Dad and I spent a week there years ago.”

“Yeah, I suppose they’re still there. Most everyone else in town left.” He nodded up to the desolate homes in the hill. “Some of them said they needed to see for themselves what happened down south… Stupid reasoning, if you want my opinion. The whole world’s gone to hell in hand basket. Why do you need to see that? We may not have much up here, but it’s peaceful and quiet.” He replaced the gas cap and patted the Buick’s dented roof. “You might want to get that windshield replaced. The one you got now doesn’t look all that efficient.”

Hayden thanked him for the free fuel and got back into the car. The old man reached in through the open driver’s side window and rested a hand on his shoulder. “So what is it like down there? What’s left?”

“You made the right choice staying put.”

The lodge on the lake was another mile north of town. Hayden spotted it first through a break in the trees. The big single story log cabin sitting on a grassy slab of rock was just as he remembered it, perhaps a little more worn and moss-covered, but seeing it again brought back good memories, and re-calling pleasant things was a gift in itself. The two canoes sitting on the shore’s sandy edge twenty years ago had been upgraded to four sturdy row boats. Business must have been booming near the end, Hayden thought sadly.

The three kids ran for the closest one and Hayden called them back. “Let me go out there alone and speak with them first.”

“I’ll go with you,” Angela said.

It was a short trip—only two hundred yards out—but it felt like miles to Hayden. Something didn’t seem right. The lake was too dark and still. The lodge that had seemed warm and inviting to him as a young teenager now appeared brooding and resistant.

They pulled the boat up along the short wooden dock and climbed out. Hayden knocked lightly on the front door. Angela gave him a look and knocked harder. “Hello?” She called out. “Anybody home?”

Hayden tried the handle and the door pushed in with a loud squeak.

Remember what happened the last time you broke into someone’s house?

“Shut up,” Angela said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I was talking about the door… it needs oil.”

They stepped inside and were greeted with stench.

Angela plugged her nostrils. “Smells like something died in here.”

They found the owners’ decomposing bodies a minute later in one of the four bedrooms. They were nestled in bed with blankets pulled neatly up to their shoulders. Two empty pill bottles lay on the floor.

Hayden and Angela hurried outside for fresh air. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “I can’t stay here after seeing that.”

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“We can’t go back, Angela. There’s nowhere left to go.”

They discussed it for a few more minutes and finally rowed back to land. Fred and Caitlan agreed to help Hayden bury the bodies while Angela kept the children occupied unloading the car. They left all the lodge windows and doors open as they went about their grisly task. They remained open for the rest of the day and all through the night. They slept in the car one last time.