Geoff North - How the World Ends

The teenager released her and stood straight up. He stared dumbly at Angela without making a sound. Two seconds later he fell back onto the chesterfield, like a tree falling in the forest. The needle had been far more effective than the plastic shard, and Angela’s best guess at where his heart was had been spot on.

I killed him… Oh dear Lord, I just murdered another human being. She tried reassuring herself that he would’ve done the same to her. He had already proved himself to be a killer. The needle sticking up from his chest had ended two lives; it would’ve been Angela’s body lying there— after being horribly violated—had she not beat him to it. Still, the guilt pushed its way back in, overriding the logic of what she’d done. She had told him her name, but never asked for his. I stabbed a man to death without even allowing him to tell me who he was. Angela looked away from the unmoving form and saw the church bell through the window opening. It sat there on its pile of holy rubble, leaning precariously to the north, like a big, black head tilted to one side, staring back at her. Judging.

You messed up bad, girl . It was her step-father again. She had wondered where he had gone in the last twenty-four hours or so. Not only did you take a life, but you killed a man . Jesus on a stick, girl… what the heck were you thinking?

“He wasn’t a man, and he tried to… he was going to hurt me.” She couldn’t say words like rape or molest to her step-father. Those were ugly, ungodly terms, and they were even worse coming from the mouth of a girl. “He murdered the owner of this house—stuck a knitting needle through her throat.”

It didn’t give you the right to do likewise. You did some awful sinning back when I was around, but this takes the cake, girl. How are you going to explain yourself at the pearly gates? How are you expected to meet your mother and me in the kingdom of God with that sin resting on your shoulders?

She tried to block out the weighty questions and concentrated on the boy’s dead body. She hadn’t asked him his name, but perhaps there was another of finding out. Angela tapped at his dirty sneaker and drew her hand away quickly. When the foot didn’t move, she tried it again, like poking a seemingly dead animal and waiting for it to lunge back to life. She knelt beside the body, finally convinced its lunging days were over, and slowly began searching through the front pockets of his black track pants. He was still warm, but would cool soon. His limbs would stiffen. She was responsible for that. Angela Bennet . For all she knew, he may very well have been the last man on earth. Perhaps he had been sent to repopulate the world, and she had ended his holy mission. No. He killed a helpless woman. He would’ve killed me.

You don’t know that for sure. And even if he did have murderous intent, it still doesn’t make what you did any less forgivable. You killed a man, girl… killed him in cold blood without batting an eye.

There was a bit of loose change in one pocket, a half pack of cigarettes and lighter in the other. Angela had made it this far in life without smoking, she wasn’t about to start now with the world burning all around her. She would have to turn his body over to see if he had any identification in a back pocket. He was surprisingly light, but it didn’t make the grisly task any easier. There was no wallet, no identification. It didn’t much matter anymore; Angela went instead for the revolver handle sticking up from the pants waistband. The gun was dull black and cold to the touch. And it was heavy, much heavier than she expected a revolver would weigh.

Don’t even think it. Put that gun back, it doesn’t belong to you.

“I’m doing what you always wanted me to do, Dad.” Angela dropped the weapon into the pocket of her dress. It pushed down on top of the squished chocolate bars. She could feel the pressure of it pulling at the dress collar around her neck. “I’m not going to rely on others. With this I can protect myself… I can warn bad people away without hurting them.”

Killer.

Angela gnawed at her lip and crawled out through the window without answering. She moved in the opposite direction of the church, her eyes now unwilling to look back upon that bell. Dad’s right. He knows what I did, and he knows what I am. God knows.

You’re darn-tootin’ he knows. You ever stop and think in the last few days why you survived the blast? Don’t go believing for a single second it was some kind of divine intervention… Just the opposite, girl. It was Jesus-justified damnation. The only ones left walking the earth now are the corrupt, the sinful, and the lazy.

Angela let him go on while she made her way further into the suburbs. Surely more people had survived the attack. Most of the houses had been blown off their foundations, but a few were still standing; those nestled behind larger buildings, behind the churches, the shopping centers, and schools. Where had everyone gone? Why were they hiding from her?

Maybe they know what you’re packing in that dress. Maybe they know you’re a murderer.

Far away, a dog started barking. It sounded hungry and afraid. With no owners left to feed them, she wondered how long it would take before the animals turned on the remaining humans. Angela picked her way through back yards where green grass had turned to ash. She knocked softly on doors, but didn’t enter without permission. Trespassing was a sin—she’d learned that lesson the hard way. Stealing was another matter. Angela had taken what didn’t belong to her, but had justified in her mind that it was alright to do so. It was only borrowing after all; she would pay it all back. She entered the North Kilpatrick Shopping Mall through a blown in display window of a sports wear store. This would be a good place to find something better to eat other than candy and soft drinks. And if there was anyone else to find still living, this was the place for that, too. She remembered the familiar radio ad— fulfill all of your shopping needs at North Kilpatrick Mall, where friends meet and families grow.

Where were all the friends and families now?

People had been there since the bomb had dropped. As she worked her way from the sports store into the main plaza, Angela could see where they’d looted and ran. Most of the damage inside hadn’t been caused by the shockwave. Thieves had been busy smashing display cases, stealing cell phones and jewellery—for all the good it would do them. But where had they gone? She began to think that she’d wasted too much time cowering beneath her desk. The survivors had already found one another and moved on.

There was a bad smell in the air, like spoiled food. It got stronger as Angela made her way past the abandoned and emptied stores. There was a big Hudson’s Bay outlet at the end of the walkway. Maybe she would find someone there. The smell got worse. Angela had to plug her nostrils as she entered the store. And then she found the people she was searching for. Hundreds of them.

Dozens of display bins filled with clothing, cosmetics, shoes, and earrings had been pushed up against the far walls, leaving an immense space for dead bodies. Angela prayed that someone had gathered all the store mannequins and placed them there as some kind of sick joke. But even a shopping mall the size of North Kilpatrick didn’t have that many display mannequins to spare. These were people—men, women, and children—and they had been slaughtered. They had been herded into this open space and shot down. A few had gaping holes in their chests and stomachs, most had taken it square between the eyes. Angela was standing in the outer edge of an immense pool of blood. She stepped back and tried to wipe it away from the bottom of her shoes along some cleaner sections of white tile.