Page 188 of The End of the World As We Know It
“They’ve started killing people, you know,” Zeke said, standing up. “They beat three people to death in the church because they were trying to leave, to move on. They…” Another sob. “They killed Carter in his chair. Said it was one less useless mouth to feed.”
Amy put her one good hand to her mouth and began crying again. The world would never again know the sweet sound of Carter, a man the group had found in Tennessee, singing his old hymns. Zeke started pacing along the water’s edge, slapping the palm of his hand with the rubber mallet.
“I don’t know how this would have worked out under better circumstances. I do know that I’m tired of it. The whole thing. Remember how we said maybe one day we’d move on and meet up with people more like us? More sane people?”
Amy nodded, but she flinched when she heard shouting. Turning toward the sound, she saw black smoke billowing above the trees. Something in town was on fire.
“The church won’t be there much longer,” Zeke said. “I won’t get the last word, but I had my say nonetheless.” The shouting continued, and then she heard screaming, sounds of fear, pain, and rage. She wondered how much longer they’d be alone by the creek. Fresh panic quickened her pulse and she felt very weak. Others would come, and she had a terrifying image come to mind of her and Zeke tied to crosses overlooking the interstate. They had enjoyed quiet, but that was definitely over now.
He gripped her shoulder hard, an assuring squeeze bordering on pain.
“Just know that I think you’re a good one,” he said. “And that I’m not going to let Mal near you ever again. Fuck dreams, fuck divine orders. We’re our own people and I’m going to protect you.”
She nodded, trying to hide the hiccups from crying so much. She was thankful for Zeke. Without him, she would have eventually let herself die in her sister’s dorm room. He was her family now, and she trusted him.
The shouts were getting closer. Zeke was sobbing behind her.
“Now close your eyes, kid. Close them. We’ll be done soon.”
GRAND JUNCTION
Chuck Wendig
It’s five hundred yards if it’s an inch, Leaf decided. The elk out there was no record setter, but was a big bull just the same—real thick in the front, almost like he’d tip over if he leaned forward too far. His one antler was goofy, too, way it spun off at the tip, bent a weird way, like it was trying to escape from the other one.
Leaf watched all this from the scope of his Winchester Model 70, the butt of the gun nestled into the shallows of his shoulder.
The young man felt a bit of wet snot trickling out of his nose, already freezing to his lip—the day was cold and the ground he was lying upon only made it colder, what with last night’s snow. Every part of him wanted to sniff and suck it back up, but even from here, that little sound might spook the bull.
He let out all the breath he’d been holding.You got this. You’re just part of the gun now.The elk lifted his head up, looked around like he didn’t have a care in the world. Then Leaf squeezed the trigger.
“Clean as a whistle, that shot, right through the lungs,” someone said behind him, and Leaf about pissed himself. He’d already popped the tripod and slung the rifle over his shoulder, and he spun, scrambling with the weapon—
Only to find himself looking at a legend.
“Mother May I,” he said. He eased the rifle back to his shoulder and lifted his hands up, palms out. Kept his head low a little.Have some respect, he told himself.You fucking idiot.
“Please,” she said. “Just May.”
Mother May I ran their small city, Grand Junction. She’d been elected fifteen years ago, and hadn’t lost an election since. He’d never been this close to her, and remarked at how—even what, in her sixties?—she was still somehow both imposing in her appearance and also radiated an aura of calm. May was weathered, worn like Leaf’s saddlebags, with close-cropped hair—it was silly to think of it this way, maybe, but her dark eyes and long pointed nose made him think of a snowman, with two coals staring out over a carrot sniffer.
She went on: “You know your way around a rifle. I did, too, once upon a time. In the bad old days.”
“I—sure, yeah. Yes. I—” He looked around. She didn’t seem to have anyone with her. She usually had men with her. Advisers. Guards. She had to. Leadership had its burdens and people wanting to put you in the ground was one of them, he figured. “Forgive me for asking, but am I dreaming this?”
A dry chuckle. “You dream of these things often?”
“No,” he lied, after some hesitation. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie, not really. He had dreams, strange dreams, but… not quite like this. Dreams of now, but of another place. May had dreams, too. Was famous for them. According to her, she sometimes made decisions based on what she saw when she slept.
“This isn’t a dream, Leaf.”
Holy hell, she knows my name.
She kept on:
“You’re planning on packing out that bull elk all by yourself?”
He shrugged. “Got my mule. I can use a barrel hitch to pack the quarters—”
