At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1) (7 page)

“Aluminum foil?” Jacob asked with a furrowed
brow. “Why do we need aluminum foil?” Then I think for the first
time he saw that Jelly and Tortilla were covered in it.

“You just noticed that we’re wearing it?”
Jelly said. “Man, you must be melted. We’ve had it on this whole
time.”

“I think I am melted. I can’t see straight,
I can’t think straight. Yeah, I think I am going crazy, or have
gone.” Jacob sat down on the tiled floor and drank some water.
“It’s certain, isn’t it? I’m gone.”

“If you think you’re gone, then you’re
probably not all gone,” I said. “Probably.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

While Jacob rested, the three of us split up
and searched the store, throwing valuables into duffel bags that we
had found at the front of the store. The bags had the Little Old
Food Mart logo on the sides, with the slogan: “Buy local, buy
local, buy local!” They really pushed buying local, but then almost
everyone did in Bellingham.

When we finished, we met up at the
storefront. “What kind of medicines did you find?” I asked
Jelly.

“Uhrm. Pain relievers, adhesive bandages,
topical healing creams, hydrogen peroxide, a bunch of inhalers. I
think stuff we’ll need.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “All the maps have
been taken, so it looks like I-5 is our only option, unless we want
to get lost.” They all nodded in silence. We exchanged what we had
collected, to make sure nothing was forgotten, as best we could
anyway. “Before we go, I have to pee.”

“All right, we’ll go across the street to
the sporting goods store, see if any guns are left. Maybe some
camping stoves.” We had gathered up a lot of the cookware, but had
nothing to use them with.

“Don’t leave me alone, that’s stupid. I’ll
only be a couple of seconds.”

“I’ll stay,” Tortilla offered.

My heart leapt, some alone time at last.
Even if it only lasted a minute or two, it would be nice.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll be right across the
street,” Jelly said. They left and took a few of the duffels to put
next to the Trackster.

“I’ll be quick,” I told Tortilla. “So we can
talk about . . . you know, what to do and all.”

He held a cleaver in his hand. “I’ll be
right outside.”

The bathroom was cleaner than I thought it
would be, which was nice, a real bonus for the day. I laughed when
I noticed that the toilet paper was out. The place had only
electric dryers, too. Luckily, I had some face tissue in my
pockets. I hated blowing my nose in anything else. When I came out,
I didn’t see Tortilla.

“Tortilla?” I said loudly.

The bathroom was in the back, down a hall.
When I made it to where the hall joined the main store, I saw a
sliver of Tortilla, across the walkway, one aisle back from the
aisle in front of the hallway. He slowly crept to the edge of the
shelves, and put his index up to his mouth as we made eye contact.
He pointed to my right, and I spied an alion crouched low, sniffing
at two of the leftover duffels, filled with cookware.

Its powerful nose detected us. It knew we
were there. After a few more sniffs, the alion jerked its large
head our way, sighting us instantly.

“Run!” I screamed, terrified. But Tortilla
was horror-struck, petrified . . . immobile. I sprinted right at
him, grabbed his hand and yanked. I yanked so hard he nearly fell
over. The alion knocked over a shelf, starting a chain reaction,
like dominos all lined up, tumbling over. I could hear them:
CLUNG—CLUNG—CLUNG. How many were there between us, I didn’t know,
but we didn’t stop. We passed the end of the aisle; I felt the air
pushed toward me as the shelf toppled over behind us. We still
didn’t stop.

The alion roared, throwing laundry detergent
jugs off its body, toward us. They smacked the floor a meter away.
I didn’t take a moment to turn back to see if it pursued us. We
cleared the sliding doors and bolted under the overcast sky,
heading for the sporting goods store.

“Darrel! Jacob!” Tortilla bellowed.

“Back here,” Jelly replied. “By the guns.” A
sign in the back hanging from two chains pointed us in the right
direction. When we found them, Jacob was loading an old handgun.
Jelly held a shotgun. “I forgot this is a used sports store. Most
of this stuff is from the last century.”

“Alions!” I stammered. “In the
grocery—chasing—escaped . . .”

“What?” Jacob said, straightening up. “You
saw aliens?”

“Yeah,
alions
.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll shoot it,” Jacob
reassured us. “Grab a gun, figure it out. We have nine of them, and
enough ammo to last a while.” I picked up a pistol. “Nice choice, a
Heckler and Koch USP. Should be easy enough for you.”

Tortilla picked up a pistol too, but
different than mine. Glass broke at the storefront. “We gotta
move!” Tortilla said. “Head on, or out the back?”

“Are you crazy? Out the back,” Jelly
answered. “I’m not going head-to-head with those monsters if I
don’t have to.”

“Let’s go,” I whispered, heading for the
backroom. An exit sign hung above a door to the right, so we took
it. We filed into a cramped and smelly alley. “We’ll circle
around.” I led the way and stopped where the alley dumped into the
street. “I don’t see anything.”

“Then go already.” Jacob pushed Jelly, who
fell into Tortilla, who collided with me. I hopped forward,
catching my balance. I rushed for the car. The hatchback was
unlocked, so I hit the latch button underneath an overhang.
SPEESHH—it shot up. We gathered our gear, bulky and burdensome
bags. I slung my axe over my back from a cord that I had fastened
to it. Tortilla and Jelly grabbed the two bows and quivers, even
though we had the guns. I didn’t ask why.

Something moved in the corner of my eye. I
spun to my right. The alion galloped down an aisle, coming our way;
in seconds, it hurtled over the window frame, out into the
street.

All I heard was the gun blast.

The alion crashed into Jacob, claws out. But
a bullet went right through its eye socket. It rolled away from
Jacob and caught its feet, stabilized. With blood oozing out the
hole in its face, it charged for a second run.

I heard another gun blast.

A second bullet struck it, through its
throat. It fell over, coughing, struggling to breathe. It was
horrible to listen to as it sucked in and blew out:
KLEHH—AH—KLEHH—AH. Then it started to gurgle before it died, blood
shooting out its neck.

Jacob stood up, staring.

Tortilla had his arm extended, shaking as he
held the gun. We all looked at him.

“You saved me . . .” Jacob said, his voice
cracking. “I almost got you killed . . . and you saved me.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll do the same for us
when the time comes,” Tortilla said.

Jacob nodded. “You saved my melted brain.”
He didn’t say anything more, no thank you, no yeah, I’ll be there
to watch your back, nothing but: you saved me.

I gazed at Tortilla. I wanted to kiss him
again, but the time wasn’t right. All I said was, “You did
good.”

“Yeah he did!” Jelly exclaimed. “The well
armed take advantage and you took advantage!” Before any more
congratulations could be given, another roar echoed in the
city.

“The buses, they’re big enough to push cars
out of the way, let’s take one of them,” I suggested.

“Good idea.” Tortilla started eastward for
East Champion Street. “Hurry.” We ran off, right behind his steps,
except for Jacob, who lingered at the carcass of the alion.

I turned around and saw him staring at the
dead beast. “Come on, dummy!”

He raised his eyes to me. A shadow covered
his face, dark and foreboding. He didn’t reply but started off
after us.

The road turned south and the bus station
was right around the corner. Cars were everywhere, parked at the
meters, and dead in the street, blocking it. A few buses looked as
if they had been pulling out when the people aboard had been taken.
I heard screeches down at the cross street, glanced over and saw
three alions charging.

“They’re coming! Get inside, get inside!” I
shouted.

Tortilla pushed in the doors of the closest
bus. We scrambled up the steps, and Jacob vaulted into the driver’s
seat. “No way, bromigo,” I laughed. “Get out.” I threw my hand back
behind my head. “Get out now.”

“All right, all right.” He scurried off to
the back.

Luckily, the key was still locked in the
ignition pad. I pressed the big green ON button. It fired up.
Tortilla had shut the doors, and now they locked as the bus came to
life. I stomped down on the GO pedal, and the tires squealed, then
with a jolt they shot forth. I twirled the wheel to the right and
headed up East Champion, a one-way going the opposite direction,
but I figured no one would mind.

By then, they were upon us. They were smart,
too. They went right for the tires. I watched as they slashed the
two outside back tires. Fortunately for us, the buses had three
tires in a row, just in case something happened to one, the other
two, or even one, would support the bus for a decent enough
distance. The alions failed at slicing the inner tires.

So they gave up. Instead, they changed their
tactics, running alongside the bus. I swerved, trying to squash
their guts, but they were nimble, far too nimble. I took a right on
Ellis: it was nice not having to stop for traffic. I lost track of
two of them as I studied one in my left mirror, gaining distance,
almost to the front tires.

I swerved again.

On agile paws, it leapt away.

Tortilla was also observing the alion. “I
think I can shoot it.” He closed one eye and aimed.

“Open the window,” I shouted back to him.
“Glass could go in your eye.”

He slid the window to the side and locked it
in place. “Hold the bus steady.”

“I can’t.” I took a left up Lakeway. The
alion faded back for a second, hopped over a glossy silver coupe,
dodged another, and sprinted up to where it had been before, near
the front tire.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” I heard myself scream.
It echoed down the bus. It sounded as if it existed only in my head
though.

I glanced at the mirror and saw the longest,
deadliest claw lacerate the outer tire. I skidded right as Tortilla
fired. It missed. I steadied the bus out. He fired a second shot. I
spotted blood around its shoulder.

“Again!” I cried.

PAP—PAP. I glimpsed the alion going headlong
into a tree on the median. I turned right, up the on-ramp to the
fourth and highest layer of I-5. I had hated the interstate before,
always so crowded. But now all the cars were stopped, easier to
pass, skipping from lane to lane, maneuvering around them as if I
were in a high-speed chase. I guess in some way I was.

My attention had been focused on Tortilla
and the left, but now Jelly’s high-pitched screaming became clear:
“We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re dead!” He repeated it over again.
“One of them is skipping on the hoods of the cars.”

Then all of a sudden I heard THUNK on top of
the bus.

Jelly—in complete hysteria—pointed his
shotgun at the roof. He discharged the cartridge. Another THUNK.
Debris fell from the roof. “I think I got it.”

We waited. I checked all my mirrors, but I
didn’t find anything, not even the third one. Then I heard
scraping, as if nails were digging into metal, on the roof. A paw
busted through a window near Tortilla, reaching, striving to slice
one of us to pieces.

In a panic, Jelly launched a round. A roar
followed as the paw exploded. He aimed up again, to where he
thought the beast was perched, then pulled the trigger. The spray
of shots hit fur, flesh, and bone. Blood trickled down the holes
like disgusting red rain. The body rolled off the roof going
BUMP—BUMP—BUMP the entire way.

I heard a cry of glee come from all three. I
checked the mirrors again, but I still didn’t detect the third one.
But then something caught my eye at the door; the alion was
galloping alongside us, trying to pry the doors open with its two
humanlike hands that jutted from the tops of its shoulders.

I sped up. Cars were everywhere. It became
difficult to dodge them. Then all five lanes were blocked. I had to
smash through them or fly off the side through the guardrail.

Jelly leaned over the driver’s chair. “Go up
the middle,” he advised. “Right up the middle.”

I nodded.

The bus plowed into two bumpers, crushing
them in an instant. We came out all right, still intact. I peeked
at the door: the alion barreled along with us, keeping pace. My
mouth gaped. I thought it was impossible, but there it was,
alive.

“Shoot it.” I nodded toward the door.

Jelly sighted the alion and flinched
back.

When I looked back at the road, two cars
blocked my path. Filled with terror, I slammed on the brakes and
slid to the right, smacking the alion. I lost control, and the
tires decided to rebel, keeping course for the meter-high steel
barrier. I tried to steer away.

We bulldozed right through the guardrail and
plunged over the side of I-5, four levels up.

I stared through the giant glass windows,
looking down at the earth, a big patch of wet soil beneath us. The
bus rolled in the air so that the right side would collide first.
Jelly, Tortilla, and Jacob held on to the overhead rails,
screaming. I gripped the steering wheel, every muscle locked up. I
didn’t want to die. I wanted to kiss Tortilla one more time.

I closed my eyes and waited for my world to
end.

Darrel

B
OOOOM.

The crash was so loud. I held on to the
overhead rail that spanned the distance of the bus. My body jerked
in the impact. My neck whipped back then forward. It felt like it
snapped. I released my grip and fell to the broken glass, landing
on the crumpled frame. I just lay there, unable to breathe. I
wanted to inhale but couldn’t, not even a short breath. I tried to
gulp in the air, but I felt like a fish out of water. Everything
was warm around me. My head swirled. It was nice. Then I saw
black.