Page 67 of The End of the World As We Know It
“What for?” asked Alan. “Ain’t no mask gonna stop us from doin’ this ourselves. If we’re gonna get it, we’re gonna get it.”
“I meant about the smell.”
“You don’t wear a goddamned mask when you’re shoveling cattle shit. Why start now?”
“Well, I mean, I’m used to the cattle shit. This is a rotting body.”
“It’s all decomposition and undigested material, dumbass.”
“That’s a fair point,” said Derek. “It just don’t smell remotely the same.”
“Widow Harper deserves better than to be treated like trash to be taken out.”
“That woman hated you.”
“Most women hate me.”
“Hated.”
“There are still some left, I suppose,” said Alan.
“You suppose our odds have improved?” asked Derek genuinely.
“I reckon they have to. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless mostly men survive.”
“Well, that would suck.”
“No more than it sucked before.”
“That’s fair.”
“Still think the woman deserves to be handled with care and not treated like a fuckin’ biohazard.”
“All right, all right, I’ll lay off about the mask.”
The two resigned men carried on like this, chatting away, trying to figure out theWhat next?of it all, while collecting, boxing up, and burying the residents of Roosevelt in a large field beside the highway. They set up a system to make sure they remembered exactly who was buried where, and at night, the two would craft and then hand-carve crosses for each of them. Not everyone in Roosevelt was Christian or practicing, but this being Texas, everyone at least pretended, and so Derek and Alan didn’t really know better and gave them all crosses anyway. Even Mrs. Levenson.
It wouldn’t be until toward the end of the first week that the pair would discover that they were not, in fact, alone.
Bill Pertwee was a few years older than the boys and had mostly grown up around them. He didn’t think much of them, nor they of him, but they’d never had any beef between the three of them andhad always been cordial when running into one another. So, it was a bit uncomfortable the moment the two pulled onto his property in Alan’s El Camino and Bill met them on his porch aiming a shotgun at the pair.
“Ain’t nothin’ here worth gettin’ shot over stealin’, boys!” he called out as the two got out of their car.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” yelled Alan, throwing his hands in the air.
Derek, on the other hand, held his arms out, palms open wide, giving the universal sign forYo, chill the fuck out. “We ain’t here to steal shit, Bill. We’s just here to check on you and the girls. Everyone okay?”
“We don’t need no checking in on.”
“That may be so, but if that’s true, you, me, Alan, and the girls are the only ones left alive in town. We just wanted to see who’s still alive and take care of those that don’t have much time left.”
Bill narrowed his eyes and lowered his gun. He motioned over toward an ancient magnolia tree to the side of his house. There beneath it, underneath the massive off-white spring blossoms, were three mounds and three crosses. One each for his wife and daughters. “Ain’t none but just me left. And I don’t reckon I’m much longer for this world.”
“You sick?” asked Derek.
