The End: An Apocalyptic Novel

  Copyright©2015 by Matt Shaw

  Matt Shaw Publications

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters in this book are purely fictitious.

  Any likeness to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  T H E E N D

  M A T T S H A W

  For Marie,

  I would travel the world and beyond for you.

  A Mother’s Love

  Sitting at the make-up table of what was now her bedroom, she looked into the mirror at her complexion. She looked like Hell. She remembered a time when her skin was a light pink colour. Pink for the many happy years before everything happened and then a little paler when the illness first manifested itself. Soon after treatment, a yellow hue with a disconcerting luminous tinge to it. And today - now there was no more treatment to have - it had turned a pale grey. It wasn’t just her skin colour that had changed though. Her whole appearance had.

  She had never been the biggest of women. Her weight used to fluctuate between a size ten and a size fourteen - usually averaging around a twelve. Whatever her weight though she had carried it well. Her hair back then; long and dark to just below her shoulders. Her face - pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way; she’d look stunning when dolled up for a night out with her friends (not that those happened anymore) and she’d look pretty when her skin was bare of all cosmetics. Now though she was an unhealthy size eight; ribs clearly visible, collar-bone jutting out. Her hair was all but gone. A few dead-looking wisps here and there where it was trying to grow back but ultimately bald. And her face? Heavy black bags under her eyes and the eyes themselves somehow sunken back into her skull. Cracked lips and crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

  She looked as she felt; dead.

  A single tear rolled down her cheek, following the lines already etched into a poorly hydrated skin. She hated how she looked now, not that there was any reason to look any different. The world was as she felt; dead. The nights out with friends were gone, the school runs were a thing of the past, daily errands had changed to a simpler pattern; hide and forage. Most people, even the ones who weren’t rotting on the inside, lived similar lives following the same patterns.

  Most people.

  There were some who were carving a different sort of life for themselves, and the people they supposedly cared about. These were the people she hid from, and the ones she kept her son hidden from. At eight years old, he wouldn’t survive an encounter. Unlike most he still looked healthy although her constantly whispering demons told her it wouldn’t last. Like everyone else, he would get sick soon too. It was just a matter of time. In some ways - the sickness taking a hold would be a blessing. In some ways. It meant he’d look the same as everyone else. He wouldn’t stand out from the rotten crowds. He wouldn’t look as appealing as either plaything or food.

  Those people and her own sickness were why she had to do this.

  She wiped the tear from her cheek.

  “Harry?” she called out to her son. No answer. “Harry?”

  “Yes mamma?”

  “Can you come here a minute please?”

  “Coming!”

  A coughing fit suddenly hit her hard. They were getting more frequent now. More than half of the fits, lasting a few minutes each time, ended with spitting up blood and chunks of lung. She leaned forward and went with it. She knew she just had to get it out of her system, often clutching at her chest whilst it worked its way out. It didn’t help stop the coughing but it did help with the pain that each cough caused; an unpleasant burning sensation in what was left of her lungs. By the time she stopped, her son Harry was standing in front of her with a glass of water.

  Like everything else in this God forsaken world the water was tainted; a slight brown tint to what should have been perfectly clear water. She drank it but wouldn’t let her son. He only drank from the sealed bottles they’d found knocking around; supplies that seemed to be getting more and more sparse - especially since she hadn’t been able to travel as far. Running out of things to drink; another reason this needed to be done.

  “Thank you, darling.” She took the water from him with a shaking, frail hand. She drank it and coughed again; not a fit, just a reaction to the cold water hitting her damaged throat. She set the glass to one side and looked at her boy. He looked scared. She smiled at him and moved his dark fringe out of his blue eyes with her hand. “When did you get so big?” she asked.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. It was all he seemed to ask these days. Are you okay? She smiled and nodded - the only answer he ever got to the question. She didn’t want to lie to him and yet - at the same time - she didn’t want to tell him the truth either.

  “What about you?” she asked. “How are you doing?”

  He nodded, “I’m good, mamma.”

  “Good,” she smiled again. She could tell by his face that he was worried though. He knew she was ill but didn’t know how ill exactly. Despite being in the final stages, she’d managed to keep that from him at least. Couldn’t protect him from anything else but… That she could manage.

  “I love you,” she told him - a smile on her face and a tear in her eye.

  “I love you too.”

  “You never forget that, okay?”

  “Okay, mamma.”

  She started to cry, “You promise me.”

  “I promise.” He raised his right hand with only his little finger extended, “Pinky promise!”

  She laughed through the tears and wrapped her own little finger around his, “Pinky promise!” She let go. “I wish things could have been different,” she told him. It wasn’t just the current situation with her health that she wanted to be different, it was everything. She wished she could have given Harry the life he deserved. She wished she had her health. She wished the world wasn’t rotten to the core. She wished there was still law and order. She even wished for the corrupt governments to be back in power, the ones who’d set the chain of events in motion to bring things to where they were today. Sometimes she even wished she could rewind the clock to before Harry was born. If the world had to be this way, as broken as it was, she wished she’d never brought him into it. “Can your mamma have a hug?”

  Harry nodded and carefully put his arms around his sickly mother. She wrapped one arm around him and held him tight, the tears flowing freely now.

  “I love you so, so much!” she said.

  “You’re hurting me, mamma!”

  She closed her eyes and tried to block out his voice. Keeping him held close, she reached for the scissors on top of the make-up table.

  “Everything will be okay!” she told him, still with her eyes shut.

  “Mamma, you’re hurting me!”

  She raised the scissors up high behind Harry’s back, out of sight, and hesitated a moment.

  “Mamma?!”

  “I’m sorry baby…”

  She brought the scissors down hard on top of Harry’s skull - the long blade piercing the bone of his skull and digging straight down into his brain, killing him instantly. She screamed out loud as she released the scissors - leaving them sticking from his cranium - and hugged him tight with both arms wrapped around him. She screamed again and again for a third time.

  With one arm wrapped around him and not looking, she pulled the scissors from Harry’s head; his body gave a little twitch.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she kept wailing over and over again. “I didn’t have a choice! I’m sorry, baby!” Tears streamin
g. Voice cracking. “I’m sorry!” In her mind, she had had to do it. She had to take her son’s life. She knew she was going to die - maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the day after but she knew it was coming for her and - when it did - she knew her son would be alone. She couldn’t bear to think of him alone. Not in this world. Not without anyone out there looking out for him. She had to take him with her and - with that in mind, with him waiting there, she raised the scissors to her throat and pushed them against her skin. She screamed out of frustration and hatred for being put in this position. The blade had pierced the skin a little but she couldn’t go any further. She couldn’t do it. She screamed out again, frozen in fear and grief.

  This is where her story ends.

  Chapter 1

  Sitting here with the sun blazing down from the clear blue skies, you could be mistaken for thinking everything was okay in the world. Everything was normal. People were still living their lives, going about their business. Sometimes, it’s nice to go with the belief that it was. Close your eyes, feel the warmth against your skin, pretend everything is fine and your family is waiting for you at home. Dinner cooking in the oven. It’s not recommended to do it often though. It can make the real situation worse.

  There are differences between this world and the world that’s gone, though. They’re slight and - at first - if you were a visitor to this planet, you might not see any difference. But it is there. Sound, for example.

  Sitting here, on the grassy bank, there’s no sound. Not even the wind dancing with the leaves in the trees. No birds singing on the branches. No voices carried from somewhere on the horizon. No dogs barking at whatever has their undivided attention. There’s just a stunning silence and - despite all that has happened - it is beautiful. Perhaps one of the only good things to have come from all of this.

  I closed my eyes and let the silence swallow me up. The sun beating down on my face, the perfect peace and stillness all around me, it would be easy to fall asleep here. I’m so tired, I can’t recall the last time I slept through the night properly. Hard to get a decent night’s sleep when you’re sleeping with one eye open. Constantly on guard - watching your surroundings even when you’re holed-up in what used to be someone’s family home.

  You’re never as safe as you think you are.

  The sound of a cracking twig came from down the hill - towards the trees - startled me enough to cause me to open my eyes. Without moving my body - not wishing to draw unwanted attention towards my position - I looked down to the source of the noise. There, standing in the clearing just in front of the forest - a beautiful stag. Slowly, so as not to startle it, I sat up and watched it as it grazed upon whatever it had found on the ground.

  A second good thing from this mess; wildlife and nature have reclaimed the land previously ruined by us humans. And it is startling how quickly it has happened too. Five years and a handful of months. Think about it, that’s nothing. As an animal-lover, the decline in humans and rise in animals suits me just fine.

  The stag looked up from his grazing. His gaze met my own. So unused to seeing people in these parts, he isn’t even scared by me. So long as I don’t make any sudden movements, he doesn’t care that I am here. I couldn’t help but smile as he tucked his head back down to the ground, continuing to eat whatever it was he had found down there. He’s lucky. I’m starving. Maybe he’ll leave some for me.

  The stag suddenly reared up on his hind legs before staggering forward a few paces. I sat up, alarmed. He tottered about for a few seconds and then dropped to his side. I could see his laboured breathing. I could see an arrow sticking from the side of his neck.

  I am not alone.

  Voices called out from the forest as I ducked back down hoping I hadn’t been seen. People had the capability to be assholes even before everything had kicked off. Now, they’re even worse and to be avoided at all costs.

  Please don’t let them have seen me.

  Laughter. A group staggered from the woods. One of them - the leader of the pack I presumed - carried a bow with him. A quiver of arrows on his back.

  “We’re eating tonight, boys!” he cheered as he pulled the arrow from the stag’s neck. The animal bucked his body. Still alive.

  Put it out of its misery, asshole.

  I want to shout down, tell them to finish it off but I can’t. The question of friend or foe in these situations usually ends with the answer ‘foe’. Times are hard for people nowadays and you are no longer seen as another human but - instead - a target. They look you up and down, wondering what they can steal from you to make their lives easier. One on one, I can hold my own but a group? I need to remain invisible. I just hope they’re distracted enough by their half-kill to pay attention to their surroundings. I am not as well hidden as I would prefer to be but to run for cover now would only draw attention to myself.

  “Photo opportunity!”

  The prick with the bow and arrows was standing next to the stag. His foot was up on its neck and his hands on his hips, the triumphant pose of the hunter. I have a gun in my rucksack. There are eight bullets in the clip. I would happily waste one sticking it between his eyes. I understand the need to hunt, I understand the hunger we’re all feeling but there’s no need to be so callous about it. There’s no need to be like that. He should do the right thing and finish it off. End its suffering. Not stand around pretending to pose for photographs.

  Another man stepped forward. He pulled a knife from his own belt and stuck it in the stag’s throat before pulling across, opening the creature up and spilling its blood. Clearly he shared the same thoughts as me.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” the hunter wasn’t impressed by his comrade’s interference.

  “It was suffering.”

  “Who gives a fuck.” A statement, not a question.

  The silence allowed their voices to carry across to where I was. Listening in and hearing them as though I were standing right next to them. The beautiful silence trampled on by people.

  “It’s cruel.”

  “The world’s a cruel place,” the hunter laughed.

  “Just have some respect!”

  “Me have some respect? You want to watch what you say, boy. Don’t forget who you’re talking to or your place in the pecking order.”

  “Fuck you…”

  “Just leave it,” one of the girls - rough sounding voice - tried to talk the men down. Clearly she could see what I saw; trouble brewing. Sound advice but too late as the hunter - with no warning - stuck an arrow into the other man’s throat. He pulled it out and laughed as his supposed friend’s blood sprayed in his face. The other members of the group weren’t as amused and the girl who had initially tried to calm things down even went so far as to scream out loud before stopping herself, no doubt worried she would offend the hunter.

  I watched - horrified by the outcome of the situation but not surprised. On the journey I’ve been on, I’ve seen this sort of thing far too often. Gone is the empathy, gone is the compassion. People are not who they once were. Even those who were once good people. This - what happened… This has tainted them. Changed them for the worse.

  “Anyone else got something to say?”

  The hunter was pointing the arrow at the rest of the group - primarily at the biggest of them; the one who might have been a challenge to him. As it turned out, he wasn’t. The bigger man backed down. I can’t help but wonder whether it would have been a different story had the hunter been disarmed.

  Do the rest of the group a favour. Kill him for them.

  As tempting as the thought is, it’s not worth my time or the bullet. Especially the latter, considering the sparseness of ammo these days. Might be easy to find ammunition and guns in places like America but - not in England. Besides - I’ve long since learned that you cut the head off the monster, another is quick to replace it.

  “Give me a hand with this!” The hunter had turned his attention back to the animal carcass on the ground. It made sense to move it. They were too ex
posed to cut it up where they were. Not many people wandering around - this group is the first I’ve seen in days - but it is better to be safe than sorry. Cut the animal up into easier to manage meals out of sight so as not to have anyone challenge them for the meat. Did I mention - decent meals are scarce? I watched as some of the gang started to move the carcass away from the clearing, dragging it back towards the woods. It works out better for me that they’re taking it elsewhere to start prepping; as soon as they’re out of sight - I’ll hit the road again. Been here long enough as it is. Have to keep moving.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  An unshaven man was pointing right towards me. One by one the rest of the gang turned to me. The last person to turn - the Hunter.

  “Hey! Who’s up there?” The hunter called out, reaching for an arrow.

  I clambered up to my feet.

  Time to leave.

  I started up the hill, in the opposite direction. What the hell had I been thinking, sitting out in the open like that with hardly any cover? A rookie mistake. I’ve seen people die in similar circumstances - killed by the people I was with, back when I traveled in a group. I knew better than to do this, putting myself in this position.

  I know better.

  “Where are you going? Don’t you want to share this with us?” he called out. I presumed he was talking about his kill. I don’t trust people - haven’t for a while now since I saw the way my own group of survivors crumbled and turned on each other. Even if I did trust them though - people, that is - I’d just watched this man kill one of his own. He cannot be trusted, no matter what he offers.

  “Plenty to go around, my friend! Come on down, don’t be shy!”

  At the top of the hill. There are trees just a few feet away from me now. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed some of the gang were starting up the hill after me and he - the hunter - was aiming the loaded arrow. I threw myself to the ground as he released the arrow. I didn’t see where it landed, just heard it crash somewhere behind me in the foliage. As I got back to my feet, he was already preparing the second. I didn’t hesitate as I ran towards the woods. So hungry, there’s not much energy left in my body and every step causes a dull ache in my joints. No time to worry about that though as I crashed through the bushes separating me from dense cover. I nearly tripped in the process. A stumble forward which most likely saved my life as another arrow flew over my head. All this because they most likely want to loot the rucksack on my back. What a fucking world we live in. Half tempted to leave it for them just so I could hide somewhere and watch their expressions change when they did go through it. If I didn’t need the contents, I would - just for a laugh. Laughs are too infrequent in this day and age now and it would be a welcome change.