The Edge of the World

Two brothers who find what it means to truly care for one another while surviving amidst a zombie outbreak.

 

I walked into the convenience store, the chimed ding broke the stifled silence and hung in the air waiting, watching.

            Quietly I headed over to the back where the water was stored behind sliding glass doors, maneuvering around torn junk food bags and those dollar donuts police men used to eat before taking the early shift; it was all on the sticky floor, covering it like a cheap carpet. Not making any unnecessary sounds I made it to the refrigerator, which of course wasn’t working. But that’s what's great about bottled water: it doesn’t go bad on you.

            Approaching the glass doors, I saw someone else’s red and mottled print splashed across the handle. Whoever it belonged to also tried regaining a bit of hope through these bottled treasures; whether they were successful or not was up for debate, but I really did not wish to know. I needed to remain focused, clear-minded. Slowly I reached for the door and pulled on it; it squeaked, I winced, but there were no other sounds.

            I felt for the reassuring lump in my back pocket, and patted it against my body. Somehow that made me feel slightly better. Only slightly.

            I opened the door and started piling water bottles into the sack I brought with me, even grabbing an Arizona or two.

Ding.

I stopped, my eyes focusing on the bottle I held in my hand. I felt the blood in each fingertip, pulsing against my flesh and ready to squirm out. My hand went for my back pocket, and I pulled out my knife, trying to get a good grip but it slid uncomfortably in my sweaty palm. Gulping in stale air, I crouched behind some corn chips still hanging untouched on the shelf. I could hear rustling as feet shuffled through the wrappers on the floor.

I closed my eyes, clutching my knife to my chest to keep my heart from bursting.

One, two, three…Now!

I jumped up from behind the shelves, my fisted palm pulled back and ready to sink into flesh.

“Ahhhh!” a small scream erupted in front of me, and I sucked in a gasp.

“Terry! You’re supposed to be outside on guard duty!”  I noticed that my fist still tightly clenched the knife, and I looked at it for a moment, mesmerized by the shiny blade and how I was ready to sheath it in my brother’s neck.

“Were you going to kill me?” Terry said, also looking at my knife but with shock written across his face.

I lowered my knife and scowled at him. “I thought you were one of them.”

“Yeah, you bet I was”, he replied angrily. I chose not to comment, but stuffed the knife into my back pocket and picked up the sack of water bottles from the floor.

“Here.” I shoved the sack into his arms, and he gave me a dark look.

“No Cheetos? Funions? Not even some f*****g Coke?” he called as I headed for the front door.

“We don’t have time. Come on, we’re outta here”.

***

 

We drove about fifty miles down the I-40, until the dark sky draped across the sun. Even then I continued on, not listening to Terry’s complaints about needing to piss or his sarcastic are-we-there-yets. I couldn’t stop; for me there was no safe haven left, no place to rest our minds or lay our weary bodies down without worrying if that noise you heard was really just a squirrel. It probably wasn’t. Not until the passenger seat was reclined and snores whispered through his mouth was when I finally decided on an old barn house, surrounded by dry grasses for miles around.

By the time we boarded up the place and made a decent spot to sleep I was too riled up to lie down. I glanced over at Terry, lying on the sofa cushions that served as our bed. His bangs tickled his eyelashes, and I could see that little white scar that ran across his left jawbone. He once bragged to Lucy Hill that he got it while wrestling an alligator near the Festering Lagoon, as we called it. Of course he did no such thing. He was riding his bike when a car veered into him, causing him to either be hit and killed or to swerve off the road into the ditch. Instead of a broken body he was blessed with a broken jaw. I remember that night when it happened I didn’t close my eyes, afraid to see in my dreams my brother’s blood painted on the road.

  Terry would say I was overprotective since that day; always shoving my pointy nose in his business, as he put it. But since those three years have passed I have been more aware of what I truly cared about, always keeping a close watch on my little brother. Even if he acted like a dick most of the time.

A rattling at the back door called my attention, and immediately I stood up, knife already in hand.

“John, whas goin on?” came the slurred voice from the couch.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep Terry”. I heard him grunt in approval, but knew his eyes would be watching my every move. I tiptoed through the hallway and to the back door, where the rattling grew louder. I could feel the cold sweat already soaking my shirt collar, but I continued forward. I pulled back the dusty blinds on the window, the gateway to the foreboding darkness. I could see it, but it didn’t see me.

Its eyes were yellow and swam in green pus. They looked cloudy and unfocused, but they had intent in them; it knew what it wanted. A black and red liquid dribbled from the lipless mouth and streamed down on the shirt it was wearing, which was ripped and covered in splatters I did not want to think about. I saw the mottled flesh trying to turn the doorknob, but to no avail. I was too transfixed on the rotting creature in front of me, wondering how easily I could be that same nightmare, when a hand grabbed my shoulder.

“For f**k’s sake Terrance!” I jumped back, slamming my fist on the window. The rattling stopped, and quiet pursued my loud shout.

“Sorry�"I was worried when you didn’t come back” Terry whispered. I wanted to hit him, but when I looked he was staring at the floor, unsmiling and eyes wide. The rattling started up again, but this time a few moans escaped from the lipless mouth, calling for blood.

I grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed it. “It’s alright. Let’s go back to bed”. Terry looked up, but not at me. He was staring widely at the back door, his lips moving but no sound came out.

“It won’t get in Terry. It’s alright,” I said again, more of a reassurance for myself than for him. He tore his gaze from the door and looked at me. I stared at his eyes for a moment; they were our mother’s eyes, and reminded me of bright skies.

***

 

“Did you find anything?” I yelled across the road, shuffling through old CDs and car manuals. I heard glass break, then a voice call out “Not yet!”

The highway was abandoned when it happened, and most people either stayed in their cars if they decided all hope was lost, or they fled to God knows where. In their haste they left behind various items, like suitcases and sometimes the occasional cooler or two. Terry and I would find these highways, piled with cars backed up two miles, sometimes more, down the road. Most of the time, if it was daylight, I would stop our car and we would scour the wreckage, looking for anything we needed. And by “needed” I meant food, clothes, and possible weapons; for Terry it meant collector’s editions of DC comics.

I got out of the front seat of some Corolla and headed to the trunk to see if there was a suitcase left behind. The last car I looked in, some old Chevy pick-up truck, had a concealed axe on the passenger side door. I took it and gave Terry my knife, which he lazily put in his back pocket. As I unlocked the trunk with the keys I found in the ignition, I heard a shout over where Terry was supposed to be.

“Terry?” I called out. He didn’t answer, so immediately I rushed over to where he was rummaging through cars.

“Oh yeah baby! Check this out: issue number 10 of the original Batman! F**k yes!” he called out, jumping in the air like a little girl.

“Terry, seriously?” I slapped the back of his head.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” he yelled at me, massaging his new tender spot.

“Do you not realize how important this is? How these side-trips, though they cost me precious gas, can be the difference between whether we make it through the night?” I said, my whole body ready to jump onto his small frame. He had no idea how dangerous this was, and how potentially life-saving the essentials we needed were. I was tired of his continual easy-going attitude, the way he didn’t give a s**t about the situation we were in, the situation everyone was in. He seemed to think it was all a joke. His eyes found mine, and they seemed for an instant sad.

But then that smirk wrinkled his face, and he said to me “Calm your t*****s big bro. You may not realize this, but I do understand the importance of the situation”. He circled around my tense body, as if he was measuring me up. “You see, I understand the life-threatening aspect of this situation. I mean, if I hadn’t found this comic I probably would have died from your complete and utter lack of any fun.”

“Fun?” I repeated slowly. “You think this is funny, Terrance? People are dying, and you still have time to make jokes and walk through life carefree, as if nothing happened. Do you want to end up like them, Terrance? Cold, rotting, craving human flesh? Do you want to end up like Mom and Dad?” I finished; my breath had run out from screaming the last few words at him. When I mentioned our parents, the smile was still plastered on his face but it lost some of its luster. He stood there, and I wondered if I was too harsh on him. But looking back at his face I thought I hadn’t said enough.

He walked up to me, inches from my nose, and shoved the comic into my chest, not breaking eye contact. I held onto it as he pushed into my shoulder and started for the car.

“Terrance! Don’t walk away from me!” I called as I turned around ready to follow him. He stopped, and turned to face me. He looked for a second like a man; his face was taught and I could see the beginnings of stubble forming on his chin, his stark frame so alive amidst the silent landscape.

“You know what John? You can go f**k yourself; you and your damn end-of-the-world parade. You are so far up my a*s that you’ve become a big piece of s**t yourself, you know that? And I'm tired of it. Stop getting on my case a*****e” he said, in the most serious tone I have ever heard him use. Maybe I pushed him too far this time, over the edge I was afraid he would fall down some day.

I stood still for a moment, letting his words pulse through me like the blood in my veins, filling me entirely and shouting out against the casing of my skin. He was only seventeen, and though I had four years on him it didn’t give me the right to always stuff my problems down his throat.

“Terry, I�"” I began to apologize, but something out of the corner of my eye made me stop. There was a hand, grasping out for my brother’s back. The body that followed looked at him intently, hunger filling its very being.

“TERRANCE!”

He turned, my voice loud but not filled with anger. It was filled with panic, and he noticed. When he saw the creature it was already too close to him, and he backed away fumbling for the knife but not reaching it in time.

I ran as fast as I could, the axe still in my hand. The thing was on him, and he screamed my name and my body shook with fear; his voice was so thin and scared like never I had heard before. I gripped the axe tightly with both hands, readied it by swinging it back and upwards. Terry was on the cement, scrambling on his hands away from the black fingers reaching so desperately for him. I heard a cry of pain, and my heart sank.

Please, oh God don’t let it happen, please no, please be alive!

I turned the corner of some flipped car and saw Terry up against a door clutching his hand and the creature only inches away. Terry’s eyes were so small I couldn’t make out the color anymore.

I plunged the axe into the speckled skull, and there was a slump in the creature’s stance and I knew it would never walk again. I pulled out the blade and blood spurted forward, landing on Terry’s face and pooling on the ground beneath us.

He looked at me, eyes still trying to comprehend what happened. This was the first time we encountered one of them this close, so the shock was still settling in. I looked at my hands, covered in the creature’s blood. Terry looked at them too.

“John…” was all that came out of his mouth, a faint whisper. I dropped the axe and pulled him into a hug. His body was limp, but I still held firm to him, reassuring myself he was there and I was there, and we were real in this place, this forgotten world.

“John!”

Suddenly I felt an immense pain in my left calf, and cried out falling to my knees on the ground. I turned around to see that the creature had part of my leg in it’s mouth, the broken head slowly chewing on me. I felt sick and the pain made we double over. I felt Terry swerve around me, and saw as he picked up the axe I dropped and ram it into the thing’s head, over and over again making sure this time it was finished for good. His teeth were bared, and even more blood splashed his face making him look like the ultimate American Psycho. The pale brains of the creature flowed wet onto the concrete, and as the head slacked I saw part of my flesh fall out of its ripped mouth.

 

I was crying from the pain, and felt shocks course through my body as if I was struck by lightening. Terry was above me, his face full of panic as he tried to staunch the bleeding. I looked around and saw we were in some sort of garage or warehouse. I tried to remember how we got there, but a fresh wave of pain brought me crashing into the present.

“John? Hey Johnny boy, ya with me?” I managed a smile, which I could imagine looked like a grimace, at this bit of typical Terrance humor although his face was dead serious.

I screamed out in pain, and I felt him fumble with a wet towel on my forehead. His eyes were as blue as ever, like the skies before a storm. I managed to grip his hand tightly, and he looked away from me then. I knew he was holding back tears.

“Terry. Terry listen to me. I can already feel the fever setting in�"” I said. He looked at me now, his eyes hard and rimmed with tears.

“No. No I won’t let this happen John. Not to you. Look” he said and he pulled out some first aid materials. I laughed, knowing full well those would never keep my flesh from dripping off my bones, keep me from wanting to eat fresh, warm skin.

“You know�"you know that can’t save me. Would you listen for a second?” I said when I saw him opening his mouth in protest. “Go through my sack, and grab my gun” I said before a new head-splitting pain blurred my vision. I could tell he hadn’t moved, because he knew what I was going to do with the gun. The pain didn’t go away, and Terry still hadn’t moved.

“NOW TERRY!” I yelled, the pain driving me crazy.

He came back, and I could see the gun in his hands. “Now listen, Terry. You are going to have to take the gun, and you are going to aim it at my�"”

“No! You know I can’t do it John, I just can’t!” Terry finally broke down, his head resting on the table I was laying on. “I don’t want to go through this again John. I thought I could handle mom and dad because I had you, but if you leave me too…”

I cut him off, afraid to hear his answer. All my life I had wanted to protect my little brother because I was convinced that was my obligated duty; our parents hadn’t been there during our best and worst moments, but we were there for one another. Through the good and the ugly. I was terrified, but I was more terrified that Terry would leave me like this, racking with pain until the fever set in, when I would lose my conscious and become a mindless flesh-eater.

“Listen, I have always made decisions for us that were for the best, right? Well, know I'm making a request Terry. Not an order, but a request.” I took the gun from his hand, and pulled back the safety. I put my shaking hand in his, and folded his fingers around the gun tightly. “Just hold on, pull the trigger back. That’s it. Please Terry, I don’t want to end up like one of them.”

He looked at me, the tears freely flowing from his eyes and pooling on his lips. He nodded, and looked at the gun. A banging noise from the other side of the room made both of us turn, startled.

“Terry, you need to get outta here. Do it, quickly” I said, wanting it to be over.

“I can take you, put you in the car and drive you somewhere�"” he started.

“I wouldn’t last the night. I already feel the fever setting in.” It felt more like a furnace was cooking my brains, but I decided to leave out the details for his sake.

I gave him one last look, and nodded, the pain too indescribable to allow me to think about anything but ending it. I closed my eyes, and felt Terry’s hand on my face, then a quick kiss on the head as he whispered something into my ear. I heard as he shuffled back a few feet, and then I decided to focus on the banging growing louder from the end of the room. I imagined I was on the edge of that cliff while Terry was a far distance back, and I was looking down into the pit. It was silent down there; quiet and welcoming. All I saw was black. 

Author's Note

Give me what you got in that arsenal. Don't hold back! I want to make this into a longer story one day, so if you have any ideas that would help with that feel free to tell me what you think.