In the End

Eyes bloodshot red, pupils dilated, sunken into deep, dark purplish sockets. Teeth clenched, saliva dripping. He breathes heavily. Hair messed and standing on end. Cheeks flushed red with heat. Oxford shirt stained with blood and vomit. Hands dirty and bloody. Shoulders hunched. He lurches forward, emitting a gargling growl from deep within his throat. Pipe clenched in hand, he breaks into a sprint, unleashing a deep throated rumbling of a roar. Kyra points the shotgun, holding, waiting for him to get closer. The man is covering ground like an Olympic runner. Kyra pulls the trigger and hits him dead center.

When the glaciers melted, and the waters rose, many diseases that humans were unprepared for were unleashed on humanity. One such disease they simply call Rabies II. Scientists at the CDC believe it started with polar bears, spread its way to domestic pets, then started affecting humans. Symptoms include high fever, vomiting, hallucinations, and homicidal rage. Life expectancy is only one to two weeks, but that’s enough time to spread the disease ten times over. Due to the animalistic behaviors of the infected they have been labeled with the monicker werewolves, or wolves.

Kyra pumps her shotgun again and relieves the woman running at her of her suffering, and her head. The third one is too close. She swings her shotgun like a ball bat, knocking him to the ground. She pulls her knife and stabs the fourth one in the eye before it can hurt her, pumps the shot gun, and puts a hole in the chest of the third one.

“Not bad, kiddo, you’ve come a long way,” Allen Kent, once the proprietor of the local hardware store, tells her as she pulls her knife from the woman’s eye socket and wipes it clean on her pants.

#

Kyra flashes back to the day her world crumbled. She was a pampered fifteen-year-old, the cute little girl next door with the blonde hair and blue eyes, light freckles covering her slender nose. She’s of average height, curvy but tone. She wasn’t even dressed for the day, wearing a grey pair of pajama bottoms and a Billi Eilish T-shirt. She was eating breakfast with her lawyer father and architect mother and just got up to rinse off her plate. When she looked out the kitchen window, she saw her pure-bred German Sheperd with Champion bloodlines standing in the yard looking all greasy and dirty, panting heavily with its paw up.

“Daddy, something is wrong with Gunther,” she said, concerned.

“What do you mean sweetie?”

“He’s hurt and all filthy. I think he was in a fight. Can you check on him, please,” she asked with a daddy’s girl emphasis on the please.

James Unger got to his feet rolling up his sleeves. “That’s just what I need, to smell like wet dog when I walk into court today,” he said as he made his way out the back door.

Kyra watched on from the window, leaning over the sink as her father knelt down in front of the dog and called him to come closer. The dog limped a couple steps towards her dad when Kyra noticed the hair on the dog’s back go up. It leapt at her father, grabbing hold of him by the neck, thrashing. Blood was squirting everywhere, painting the grass red.

“No! Dad!”

Sandra Unger knocked over her chair and nearly knocked over her daughter making her way to the window. “Jim!”

Sandra grabbed the broom and went after the dog, hitting him as hard as she could. Kyra had followed her mom outside to tend to her dad. She no more than knelt down and the dog had ripped the broom from Sandra’s hands. Sandra tried to run but the dog was too fast. He pulled her down and bit her face, pulling away skin and muscle. Kyra stood and started to back up towards the house, unable to process the violence before her. It wasn’t until her mom gurgled a bloody “run” that she turned for the house and ran. The sudden motion caught the dog’s attention, and he gave chase. Kyra tried to close the back door, but the dog slammed into it and skidded across the linoleum of the washroom floor, banging into the drier.

Kyra scrambled for the stairs where she slipped and the dog got ahold of her pant leg, pulling her down the stairs. Kyra untied her drawstring and slid out of them, leaving the dog to thrash angrily at the pants. She hurried into her room and closed the door just as the dog slammed its head into it. Kyra let out a fear induced yelp and started to cry as the dog kept pushing; she could not get the door to latch. Digging into the hardwood floors with her sock covered feet proved futile and her shoulders were burning, wearing out from the exertion when she heard a bang and the door slammed shut and latched.

Kyra relaxed and wailed followed by heavy sobs as she rolled into the fetal position there on the floor right in front of the door. A knock came at the door that made her jump out of her skin.

“Kyra? It’s me, Mark. Are you okay? Gunther’s dead. Open up.” She had never been so glad to hear her brother’s voice.

#

“I guess my survival instincts kicked in. I wish David’s would have,” Kyra responded.

“Mark made a choice. It was the kind of guy he was. Remember him as a hero and let go of this hatred for David,” Allen tells her as he finishes backing the screws out of the plywood covering the convenience store door.

“Let’s just get what we need and get back to our camp. I’ve had enough wolves for one day,” Kyra says, not listening to the older man.

As they drive back to the abandoned campground, Kyra reflects on the last time she saw her brother. Allen looks over at her and can tell what she is thinking about.

“There was nothing we could have done to stop him Ky. You tried. You clung to him, and he shook you off. He was out of my reach,” Allen said.

“But David… all he had to do was run. He just dropped and covered his head like it was a damn tornado drill. What was Mark supposed to do? David was his best friend,” she told him, gazing out the window, looking at nothing in particular.

#

The pandemic had spread like butter over hot toast. By the time Mark and Kyra met up with David outside their homes, the subdivision was in complete chaos. Pets were attacking their owners. People were attacking each other. Cars were crashing. Things were breaking. Guns were firing. They were lucky to make it into town. They made one wrong turn and came across a dozen wolves fighting amongst themselves. The three teens stopped dead in their tracks and tried to quietly back up, but David, being a rather large and clumsy boy, backed into a steel trashcan that rattled and clanked before hitting the pavement with an echoing bang that caught the attention of the otherwise distracted wolves.

“Run,” Mark commanded, pushing his little sister ahead of him, then grabbing his friend by the arm.

Wolves aren’t like Zombies. Wolves run, and they run fast. They even jump and tackle. They don’t take nice slow bites. They pound on you, pull on you, bite and thrash, claw, slam you around. Their objective isn’t to feed, it’s to maim or kill. So, the teens were hoofing it as fast as they could. They rounded the corner and halfway down the street they saw a man holding open the door to the hardware store, waving them in that direction. They all pick up speed, seeing safety within their grasp. Kyra reached the threshold first with Mark right behind her. David was almost there. He was winded, red in the face. His eyes rolling back in his head, he stops and drops to his knees, covering his head.

“Dave! Run! What are you doing,” Kyra yelled.

Mark grabbed the machete from Kyra’s hand and started out the door. She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. Mark ran up to David, pumping his shotgun, “David, run,” he yelled out as he took his first shot.

David got up and ran as fast as he could for the hardware store where Allen was still holding the door and Kyra was screaming for Mark, crying.

Mark got another shot off before running out of shells. He dropped the gun and started slashing with the machete, kicking them back, running them through, but they were too many. Kyra dropped to her knees as a wolf punched Mark square on the jaw as he ran by. Another tackled him and pounded him on the ground. Seven wolves piled up on Mark, punching, kicking, clawing, biting, beating him to death.

Allen pulled Kyra in and let the door close. He turned to lock it and Kyra turned and jumped on David, pounding, screaming wildly, her head thrashing. Allen lifted her up off him. David looked on with surprise and fear in his eyes as she kicked at him, face flushed red against her golden blonde hair.

#

Allen drops the pick-up’s tailgate and starts sliding crates to the rear. “Here, let me help you guys,” David offers.

Kyra stacks two crate and shoves them into Davids arms, hard. David nearly loses his balance. He looks on in disbelief as Kyra walks off with her own stack.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me,” he asks Allen.

“I don’t know. I tried to explain things to her. Eventually the hurt will pass – then, maybe.”

With the unloading done, Allen starts on a pot of stew while Kyra sharpens her blades. David sees this as an opportunity to talk to her.

“Kyra, I didn’t know Mark would come after me. I expected to die that day.”

“Really, David! You really thought that Mark, Mark of all people, was going to stand by and watch you die?”

“I wasn’t thinking at that moment, Ky. I was preparing to be beaten to death. Look, you’re like a sister to me, and…”

Kyra pointed her knife at his eye. “Don’t you say that! You are no brother to me! You killed my brother – you!”

Kyra gets up and storms off into the woods. David shakes his head and unrolls his sleeping bag. He looks at Allen who just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. “When do you think we’ll get to the army base,” David asks as he stretches out.

“Days, maybe even a week. With the roads all congested with wrecked and abandoned cars, it’s hard to say,” Allen says, breaking into a coughing fit that sprays blood.

 David sits up and scurries back, pulling his shirt up over his mouth and nose. He shouts for Kyra who emerges from the woods and does the same. The blood that Allen is spewing up is frothy at first. Blood vessels start bursting in his eyes. He drops to his knees, then his hands as blood gushes out his mouth, drips from his nose. He gargles and strains for air as he rolls onto his back. Kyra and David can do nothing but watch on in horror at how fast the disease is taking their friend. Allen sprays a fountain of blood into the air and stops struggling. His head rolls to the side.

Pulmosanguis is another one of those new diseases. It’s rarer than Rabies II, but it’s a fast-acting killer if you come into contact with it, which Allen must have at the convenience store. It attacks the lungs, causing massive internal bleeding, filling your lungs with blood, and you essentially drown.

“Grab your knapsack, Kyra, and nothing else. We are leaving,” David says, struggling to roll up his sleeping bag with one hand.

“I’ll load up the food,” Kyra tells him with mild hatred in her voice.

“Leave it. We don’t know what he touched. We’ll have to go on foot too. The steering wheel is infected.”

Kyra shakes her head and angrily helps David with his sleeping bag. They throw their bags on their backs and exit the campground heading east towards the interstate. They walk quietly, Kyra staying several yards ahead of David.

The sun sinks behind the trees and Kyra and David venture into the cover of the woods for the night. They gather leaves, sticks, and branches to light a fire. Kyra takes the first watch.

#

Kyra can see through the branches above that the moon has risen high in the sky. Her eyes are getting heavy, her vision blurry, and she is thinking of waking David when she hears a rustling in the brush across from her. She squints her eyes, trying to adjust them against the light of the fire. She gets up from against the tree where she had nestled in and rounds the fire to get a better look, hoping for something to eat. She stalks towards the brush, searching the ground for her prey, when a large emaciated, mangy bear charges her, knocking her back with one stroke of its mighty arm. The bear snorts as it approaches her, roaring as it rears up. Kyra tries to pump her shot gun. It jams. She furiously works at it, panicking as the bear inches closer.

David jumps between them with a knife, stabbing the bear in the chest. The bear wraps its arms around him as he continues to stab. It opens its mouth and brings it down, clamping onto David’s head. The bear thrashes a few times and tosses David to the side. It turns its attention to David, intending to finish the job, slowly stalking, snorting, drooling.

Click, click, boom. Kyra puts a hole in the side of the bear after getting the gun to work and knocks it on its side. She closes the gap, as the bear struggles to its feet. Click, click, boom. Right to the side of the bear’s head and it drops, motionless.

Kyra drops the gun and rushes to David’s side. He is sitting up against a tree, bleeding profusely, one eye punctured. “Oh my God, David; David are you alright? That was so brave. Stupid, but brave.”

“I meant what I said. You really are like family to me. You and Mark, you were the brother and sister I never had. I love you guys.”

“Now you’re talking like you’re dying. You’re going to be okay. I’ll get the bandages.”

Kyra starts to rush off, but David grabs her wrist. She looks at him, confused. “That bear was rabid. I don’t know how long I have.”

“No,” Kyra says as tears well up and her throat swells. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. You’re all the family I have left. Don’t leave me.”

“I don't think I have a choice," he says with strained laughter. "Don’t let me suffer, Kyra. Don’t let me go mad,” tears mix with blood as he looks her in the eyes for the first time.

Kyra wipes her eyes and nods her head. She walks over and picks up the shotgun, reaches into her pants pocket, pulls out a shell, and loads the gun. She slowly walks back to David, tears streaming down her face. She put the barrel to his temple and says, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. It wasn’t your fault. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#

Kyra made it to the interstate alone. She met up with a small caravan heading to the same army base. There, they waited out the Rabies II pandemic. It took a couple years before the CDC was comfortable enough to let reconstruction begin, but once they did, it didn’t take long for things to return to normal. Kyra went on to college to become a lawyer like her dad. She fell in love and got married after law school. They had twin boys, Mark, and David.