26 comments/ 32193 views/ 27 favorites Alone at the End of the World By: Cruel2BKind *I think this may be the longest story segment I've written so far... Hmm. This story was born after reading 'The zombie survival guide'. It isn't plagiarism. I've just always wanted to see a zombie movie (or story) where the main characters weren't BONEHEADED IDIOTS BENT ON DESTROYING THEMSELVES! Also, the fascinating romance opportunities of being in a close situation with other people and now knowing if you'll survive to see another sunrise. Enjoy! All characters are 18+* Almost no one knew exactly when it began. It was a viral infection, spread through bodily fluid contact, similar in structure to both rabies and mad cow disease. The crazies, as they would come to be called, weren't dead. They bled and starved just like normal humans. However, they were filled with constant rage, and they did not feel pain. Only a handful of people could tell you that it started in the center for disease control, in Atlanta, Georgia. It was being weaponized, when an employee received a small cut from a shattered vial. The employee went home, and passed it on to his wife that night when he made love to her. Despite feeling under the weather, he continued to get on his plane to Cairo. He passed it to a passenger by drinking from their beverage cup when they were asleep, and succumbed to the illness two days later in an Egyptian hospital, where he bit and infected three orderlies and a doctor before being subdued. The disease spread like wildfire, from first two sources, then ten, then fifty, then thousands. The spreading of the disease was exponential. Twenty days after the initial infection, cities were being evacuated as far west as Denver. By day twenty-nine, things had reached true epidemic. Thousands had succumbed and spread and killed other humans. The first signs of the epidemic had reached Europe and South America. The airlines were shut down worldwide, but it was too late. Day thirty-six, in other parts of the world the fights still raged, but in the small city of Bemidji Minnesota, things were just starting to quiet down, and the infected outnumbered the healthy, 62-1. --- Fourteen survivors lived in a deserted campground. The campground had definite advantages to anywhere else. Isolated, a deep artesian well, and a supply of canned goods stored in the closet of the small cabin, which they had found covered in blood smears and flies when they first came. Six men, four women, four children. Melvin was sitting on top of the three-story fire tower and keeping a lookout with his bolt-lever rifle. It was old, his father's gun, from WWII, but it still worked just fine. Though with only fifty rounds left, hopefully they wouldn't have to use it much. From the fire tower, Melvin could see everyone but Jess, who was out hunting squirrels with his crossbow. Jess was a bit of a hick, quiet, but a good man. Jess had brought in most of the firepower, two hunting rifles and a .22. Bert was a middle aged accountant. Balding, wearing glasses, mild mannered. He could complain a lot, but he worked when asked, and he had brought in the CB radio. Bert was with his wife Jenna and his three kids in the open clearing. Most people stayed in the clearing when they could, it felt safer. Jenna was a chain-smoking housewife who was trying to quit, and the mother of two ten-year-old twin boys Ben and Franklin, and her fourteen-year-old daughter Stacy. The kids were playing with Ned, the six-year-old son of Annette, one of the other women. Annette was on her leave from the Navy when she had been caught in this mess. Her sister Janet was here too, and the other woman was a thin shaven-headed black woman named Vera. Melvin did a head count, counting each man woman and child, mentally excluding Jess from his count. Janet and Annette were talking and washing dishes in a rusty metal tub. The kids were playing in the sand lot. Jenna and Bert were arguing about something in the shade of a no-walls tent that had been set up in the middle of the clearing. Vera was reading a thick novel in a lawn chair. His name was Gerald Everette, but everyone called him the Doc, or just Doc. He was a young balding paramedic from Minneapolis who had been right in the thick of all the chaos, and only made it out with the clothes on his back, and some knowledge that had saved their lives more then once. He was sauntering over to the sisters and talking, Melvin smiled. Everyone knew that the medic was sweet on Janet. Then there was Davis, a burly mechanic who had been camping in this campground in his RV when things went to hell. The last man was Harold. Melvin frowned a little. Harold was leering at Janet and Annette. It wasn't like the fond puppy-love that the Doc had for Janet, it was just lust. Harold looked at all the women like that, even Stacy sometimes. Harold never did anything outright, but it always just felt like the man was coated with slime. That all of his thoughts were coated with slime. That his mind was just a constantly running X-rated movie as he undressed the women with his eyes. He had been going to the college, and he was only twenty. Melvin counted, and he heard the engine from far off. He frowned slightly into the air. It was Jess's Jeep, but he always ran it really slow, to save gas and to make less noise. Why on earth was he coming home so fast? Melvin ran down the tower as the dull green Jeep winked into sight. "Jess is coming in fast, I think something might be wrong!" In a flash, the camp pulled together. Bert and the Doc grabbed the hunting rifles, Davis grabbed the .22, and Harold grabbed a baseball bat. The women herded the children together and picked up their own weapons. Annette grimly held out a 12-inch hunting knife, Janet had a crowbar. Jenna and Vera both had shovels. Ned started to cry as the Jeep rolled in. Dust boiled from the tires. Jess screeched to a halt and jumped from the vehicle, hair in a disarray. He was a young man with sandy tangled hair, wearing camouflage pants, a black shirt, a camo hunter's vest, and a dull red baseball cap over his wild sandy hair. His eyes were bright blue slits in his frightened, squinted eyes. "I found a kid. He's got a bandage on his arm, and wont tell me what it is. He's in the trunk." "You put him in the trunk!?" Janet moaned. She was so afraid, and still she was angry at the treatment. Jess ignored her and pulled open the trunk. He grabbed the arm of a lanky teenage boy and yanked him from the trunk. The boy was trembling and almost comatose, no wonder he hadn't said anything. He was dressed in a filthy sweat-stained shirt and jeans cut-offs. His arms and legs were scrawny, and he had a makeshift bandage over his forearm. The boy was crying, and shaking his head. "He was up in a tree." Jess grunted. "Couple of crazies at the bottom." The boy's eyes were huge and surrounded by deep dark hollows. His lips were swollen and cracked. He was just standing there, crying soundlessly. Harold was sweating, there was a sheen of sweat on his fat upper lip. "Well? Aren't one of you gonna shoot him!? He's bit! You know what that means!" Harold's voice was edging on hysteria. The boy looked in the direction of his voice. The clothes hung in tatters on his rack-thin body and he was shaking like a frightened animal. Those swollen discolored lips opened. "H-Harold? Is...Is that y-you?" Harold flinched back to hear his name whispered from this deathly, shaking little thing. "I don't know you, who the hell are you!" The Doc pushed him down. "That's not important now. Were you bit? Answer me!" The boy looked at him, trembling and dazed. He let out a weak sob and shook his head. "Really? Take off the bandage, now!" With weak fumbling fingers the boy took off his bandage. He was wobbling dangerously, and would faint very soon. The cut was swollen and infected, but the Doc could instantly see that it was not a bite. He ran to the boy without a second thought and caught those slender shoulders moments before he fell down. "Put the guns down, it's just a cut! Jesus, can someone get me some water and bedding, I want to get this poor kid somewhere to lie down. How long do you think he was up in that tree Jess? Any clue?" Jess shrugged. "The trunk was covered with a lotta scratches. There was a canteen, and it had some piss in it. I think he got really thirsty after a few days helpless in that tree, started pissing in the canteen and drinking it." Jess's face was stony, but his voice was choked and full of pity. Melvin got back up in the tower to keep watch for stray crazies. Down in the camp, Janet and the Doc nursed the dehydrated boy back to health. --- "How do you know Harold?" His name was Jonah, and Vera was spooning soup in his mouth, because his hands were trembling too badly. "We went to Bemidji State University together. I was getting my generals for nursing, and he was in the business classes. I only knew him because he was one of my friend's roommate." Jonah looked down at his hands. "He...He doesn't remember me, but he was at a rally I was at. He was throwing eggs and toilet paper at us." Vera looked him up and down. Jonah had angled features, and a soft feminine quality to his speech and mannerisms. His hair was longish, down to his jaw, and he tossed it out of his eyes in a feminine way. "A Pride rally?" She asked quietly. He bit that full lower lip and nodded. He drank the next spoonful of soup gratefully. "Should I be careful? I was with some guys, they beat me up and left me when they... when they found out what I was." Vera sighed. "I wish I could tell you to be proud of who you are. I wish I could tell you that it doesn't matter what any of them think, but it does. Watch yourself Jonah. I think the sisters will be alright with you, but Jenna and Bert, definitely not. Harold's out, and I think Davis is the basher type too. I'm not sure with Melvin and the Doc, but definitely watch out for Jess. He's a damn good hunter, but he's also a hick. Jonah took another few spoonfuls of soup in silence. "I guess I just wont tell anyone. It's alright, I did that for eighteen years." Vera raised her eyebrow. "How old are you?" Jonah slurped the soup from the spoon and wiped his mouth with his trembling hand. "Nineteen. I didn't have to hide in college." --- It was laundry day. The sisters and Vera and Jenna took washboards down to the creek. Davis came along with a hunting rifle to cover them. So far, only one of the crazies had been spotted near the camp, and that had been a week ago, but no one wanted to take chances. Jonah watched them leave. He had been resting in his makeshift bunk in the no-walls tent. Five meals, two good nights of sleep, and several canteens of water had restored him immensely. His skin seemed fuller and healthier, and the hollows and shadows were almost gone from his eyes and cheeks. He was still sunburned on his cheeks and arms, and very thin, but far healthier. Jess was out hunting, Melvin was in the tower. Bert and Harold were still sleeping, and the Doc was looking through a textbook and muttering under his breath. Jonah decided to join the women. His dirty clothes had been stripped off him while he slept (presumably Vera) and had been replaced by a pile of clean clothes. Jonah put on a large, billowy Minnesota Twins T-shirt, faded boxers, and a massive pair of jeans shorts that had been built for a man of much thicker waist and legs. He had a belt, which didn't go tight enough so he had to tie a knot, and a pair of sandals. Feeling ridiculous, Jonah went up to the Doc. "Um, is it okay if I go after the women? I want to help." The Doc looked around. "Why are you asking me?" Jonah blushed. "Sorry, is someone else in charge?" The question struck a funnybone in the Doc, and he laughed into his hand. "No, guess not. Feel free, just try not to sneak up on them. I'm sorry I shouted at you that night, we were all pretty scared that you were infected." "What would you have done if I was?" The smile left the Doc's face in a hurry. "Don't play dumb Jonah, you know what we would have to do if that ever happened." Jonah did know. He ducked his head, mumbled an apology and ran down the trail after the women. --- He managed to come up on them without scaring them. He hid behind a tree and called out when he was within sight. "Well come on and join us Jonah, it will be nice to have one of the men help for once!" Janet laughed out loud when Davis muttered something about keeping watch. Jonah grabbed one of the heavy mesh laundry bags from Vera and walked with them, mostly keeping quiet and listening to them talk. It was amazing how quickly he had been accepted. Jonah was afraid for his new family. He had seen the viciousness of the looters, and despite being well armed, no one was in charge. A band of three hardened looters would be able to cause chaos in the loose little camp, not to mention crazies. At the stream, the five launderers got out washpans and powdered soap and washboards. Davis sat on a rock in the shade. He was vigilant at least, standing on the rock and scaling a small ridge every few minutes to check for crazies. During one of his little hikes, Annette told Jonah that they asked for Davis on purpose. "Well, look at the others... Bert and the Doc are pretty alert, but their both terrible shots. Jess is always busy hunting, and Melvin is a sweet old man, but he tends to fall asleep if he's sitting. He's good in the tower, but not on the ground. And Harold... Oh where do I begin with Harold..." "Creep!" Shuddered Janet. "Pervert!" Spat Jenna. "Disgusting little prick!" Growled Vera. Annette laughed grimly. "If I had to kneel here, knowing that Harold was watching my behind, I'd go crazy. Not only is the scumbag a total creep, but whenever any of the women are around, he doesn't look at anyone else. One of the crazies could probably get right up close and take a bite before he noticed anything but my tits." Janet shuddered. "At least Harold is the only one that bothers you... I'm twenty three years old, and I was single when all of this shit happened so all of the guys seem to think that I'm some bouncy brainless little blonde that will fuck their brains out if they talk sweet. I'm sick of it! I mean, Harold bugs everyone, but I've had the Doc, Davis, Jess, and even Melvin hit on me! He's old enough to be my grandpa!" Jonah giggled helplessly. The look of anger on her pretty young face was just, deliciously funny somehow. Vera shrugged. "I dunno, I think that Davis is pretty open minded as far as we womenfolk go. He's been giving Annette some space because of her kid, and of course he leaves you alone Jen, but he's been flirting me up some, and I might even listen if he talks long enough. It would be nice to have some company, and I left my vibrator in Orno." The four women and teenage boy burst into laughter at that, causing Davis to give them a fond smile from over at the ridge. "You should totally go for the Doc, I mean, he's closer to your age, and he treats you really well. I've only been here for a day and a half, and I can tell that he's crazy about you." It was the most words Jonah had spoken at one time, and Janet stared at him for a second, thinking. "Is that who you'd go for?" Jonah shrugged, "He's not really my type, but in a contest between him and Harold, he wins every time. Maybe Harold will leave you alone a bit if you get a man." Janet nodded slowly. "Always a possibility. What about you? Are you gonna try and meet someone?" All four of the women were looking at him closely. Davis was coming back, and Jonah was feeling a little vulnerable from the question. "At least one other gay man had to survive, right? Who's shirt is this, I want to put it in the right pile..." Jonah was pretty sure it was Jess's shirt, but he wanted to change the subject. Annette caught on. "That belongs to Jess, see the bloodstains? That's probably from those rabbits he caught a few days ago. Don't worry, whenever anyone gets in contact with the crazies we wash the clothes really well right away, and use hot water and some bleach to disinfect it." Vera made a disgusted face. "We've prolonged it enough, we have to clean Harold's clothes now." The women let out a moan in unison. "The scumbag jerks off in his pants at night, his underwear is disgusting!" Vera explained this while opening one of the bags and grimacing. "I'll volunteer, I've seen it before. And washed it before, when I didn't want anyone to know. He must never think about it, or maybe he likes it, the idea of you all touching it." "Oh Jonah, I love you! Thank you so much!" Janet practically threw a bundle of stiff and stinking underwear Jonah's way. Behind them, Davis laughed. --- They walked back to camp, talking and laughing. Jonah felt relaxed and at home with the women. He had been worried about Davis, but after an initial curious look when the women mentioned that Jonah was gay, the man seemed okay with it. Davis was a burly man with wiry black hair and a short rough beard of fast-growing stubble. He was indeed making light advances on both Vera and Janet on the walk back. At the camp, it was getting to be late afternoon. When they arrived, each person took their own bag of laundry to put in their tents. Jonah helped make lunch. Lunch was a combination of baked beans, spam, and squirrel stew. The stew had wild onions and wild carrots in it. Jonah ate his plateful and asked politely for seconds. There were seconds, but no thirds. Jonah helped clean the dishes, wanting to help as much as possible, to be as useful as possible. Harold came storming up, his greasy hair flying everywhere and his mouth in a trembling line. "You fucking queer! You fucking cocksucking maggotdick queer!" Jonah cringed away as Harold took a swing at him. Harold's swing was badly aimed and the blow barely brushed Jonah's slim shoulder. Jonah jumped away as Harold charged after him. The Doc and Bert both grabbed him at the same time and Harold didn't bother struggling. "That fucking queer cleaned my clothes! Davis said that he asked to clean my clothes! The next thing we know, the queer is gonna be asking to suck our dicks!" Harold was nearly foaming at the mouth, but the words coming out of his mouth were so ridiculous that Jonah started to laugh where he was sitting. He laughed and laughed and Harold struggled to get at him. "Harold! Don't you know how you sound right now?" The Doc's voice was thick with scorn. "What's going on Jonah?" The Doc really was the closest thing they had to a leader. "The women were complaining about cleaning his clothes because they were so...ah...dirty. I just offered so I could be friendly. I didn't, like, enjoy it!" The Doc rolled his eyes and released the furiously blushing Harold. Jonah stopped laughing. Everyone was staring at him now. Of course the women had known he was gay, and Davis had known, but really, no one else had? The Doc got over it quickly. Melvin glanced at him like he was a strange animal in a zoo. Bert was glaring at him with open hostility. Jess was just staring intensely. Jonah looked down at his knees, hoping that no one would get upset. --- That night, when they were trying to get him a place to sleep, Bert butted into the conversation. "He ain't sleeping anywhere near me or my boys. I don't even want him nearby!" He was glaring daggers at Jonah, and the slender boy felt hurt. Vera shrugged. "I was sleeping alone in a two-man tent, but I'm moving over to Davis's RV. You can sleep there. We got an air mattress for you, and you can use the sleeping bag you used for the last two nights." Everyone settled down for the night. Everything was done by watches, so Melvin would take first watch, then Bert, then Vera, and then Jonah would take the dawn watch. Each watch lasted two hours, and during the day they were longer, and more loosely kept. The watches were always held though. It was one rule that no one argued with. Someone was always in the old fire tower, keeping an eye out. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 02 *Sorry I haven't submitted in a while! I had midterms, and I've been studying studying studying! Chapter three is going to take longer, but I can promise that it will get out. I haven't left anyone hanging yet! Not for too long anyway ;-) All characters are 18+* Jonah walked for about an hour, but he walked slow. Everything hurt, and eventually the pain got too bad to function. The moon made everything look silvery and ghostly, and the insects had been bad, biting his arms and hairline and neck. He was glad that he had worn jeans instead of shorts. They hadn't seen a single crazy since they had taken over the farmhouse, but Jonah was terrified of meeting one in the dark. He wanted to climb a tree, where he would be relatively safe. The problem was that he had a fucked up sense of balance and a battered body, so climbing a tree would be nearly impossible. He found his shelter that night under a massive spruce tree. It had huge lower branches that sagged all the way to the ground, making a rough umbrella of dead branches near the very trunk of the tree. It provided shelter, camouflage, and even a soft pile of accumulated dead needles to sleep on. Jonah was exhausted and hurt and scared. Fear made him irrational. Part of him kept expecting a furious Mark to burst through the foliage after him. Another part of him expected a crazy. It was hard to say which one he was more afraid of. He guzzled water from his canteen and made a little hollow in the dead needles. He spread the blanket there and wrapped it around him while he curled into a little fetal ball. He was exhausted, and he slept deep. --- When Jonah woke up there was an aching throb from his left ear. He was still deaf, and still off balance. It was very quiet out here, very peaceful. Jonah found the stream, the same one from around the farm and he got ready for his first day on his own. It was eerie, and his left side felt strangely numb and heavy. He kept turning swiftly to his left, trying to compensate for his lack of hearing by scoping his left side as often as possible. He felt naked, exposed. He washed himself quickly in the stream, leaving his clothes neatly folded on top of the backpack, and using his shirt to dry off. The cold water revived him, and felt good on his sore body. He had forgotten to pack any toiletries, so he scrubbed his teeth with his shirtsleeves to get rid of the scum and gargled with his clean water. He would have to boil more water soon, he couldn't trust the stream water... But boil it in what? He felt so stupid. He felt sick with his stupidity. The half-gallon would only last him so long, and a quarter of it was gone already. Then he remembered the cans, it would take longer, but he could boil some water in the cans if he emptied them out. Suddenly he was outrageously hungry. He dug in the bag for the biggest can, a 20 oz can of beans. It was one of the only cans with an opening tab, and he was grateful. He peeled back the top and ate about a third of the beans ravenously before forcing himself to stop. His bruised throat ached like he was trying to swallow sand. He held the can in his hand as he moved a little closer to the road and continued down it, nervously looking over his left shoulder every few seconds. --- He never encountered anyone from the group. He had guessed that he wouldn't, but he still felt better with every mile, every step that he put between himself and Mark. The only vehicle they had was the RV, which had horrible gas milage. They wouldn't be able to guess which way he had gone, and he had only taken eight cans of food. He had purposely not taken any of the guns or ammo, which would be a reason for them to hunt him. He was one less mouth to feed, so hopefully they wouldn't chase after him. He hoped that they would find Mark out, realize Mark's part in driving him to running away. Maybe there were bloodstains on the rug. Jess knew that Mark had been getting blowjobs, but he hadn't known how badly Mark was using Jonah, scaring him. Jonah missed them. With the exception of Mark, he badly missed them all. He would have given the world to hear Bert cuss at him, or to see Harold's sneer. Given the world to be safe in the farmhouse with a supply of guns and two of them always keeping watch. His nose clogged up and his eyes ran and he had to give a choked cough to stop himself from crying. The going was slow. He had such a hard time balancing. He clung to tree branches as he passed them, just to get his bearings. When the sun was overhead, he allowed himself to scarf another third of the beans. He had eight days of food, and scant food at that. He needed to find some houses. Maybe enough of the crazies were dead so that he could find some more supplies. Or maybe the looters were way ahead of him. How many had survived? Sweat dampened the back of his shirt and rolled down his sides and chest in trickles. It was a hot day, and he was losing water fast. He tried to drink sparingly, but the half-gallon was still going fast. He estimated that he had walked a bit more then twenty miles, and was feeling tired and lightheaded. He sat down on the road, wiping his brow and taking a long swig of warm plastic-tasting water. He caved and ate more of the beans. He walked further, swabbing the inside of the can for the sweet sticky residue. --- That night he found another evergreen tree, though not nearly as nice and protective as the old one. He made his fire a good fifty yards away from it. He dug a pit in some soft sandy soil with a flat rock and his hands. He made a hot little fire, and filled his can from the stream, which fortunately followed the road. It took all night to boil four cans full of water. In the end, he gave up with the half-gallon still about four inches from the top. He put the warm half-gallon by his nest under the tree and shoved dirt and sand into the fire pit. He heard a noise. He froze, his eyes wide, and a whimper in the back of his throat. The noise was a hungry moaning sound. Jonah ran. He sprinted. He could feel his scabs breaking and feel blood leaking down his thigh and he was so dizzy that he nearly fell, but he ran. When he got under his tree he scrambled up the low brittle branches like a drunk monkey. The tree was spinning, the world was spinning. Branches scratched his face and arms and ripped his clothes. He fled up the tree, clinging to the branches so hard that his hands got cut by the twig stubs and needles. The cuts stung from the sticky resin leaking from the branches. The moaning was delirious and shrieking and furious. Jonah could hear crackling at the base of the tree. So close. It was so close. Jonah scaled the tree, fighting through the thick growths of thin delicate branches. Slipping and sobbing and closing his eyes because he was so fucking dizzy. He vomited a thin soup of half-digested beans over his left shoulder, trying not to get any of it on himself. Higher and higher, until the moaning and breaking wasn't as loud. Jonah sat down on a branch about as thick as his calf, and clung to a branch in front of him. His legs swung in midair, and both of the branches creaked softly. He kept his eyes closed tightly, sobbing and panting and tasting sour vomit in his mouth. A trickle of blood was seeping down his leg. His hands were smeared with blood and resin and bark flakes and needles. His face was scratched and cobwebby and smeared with resin. His clothes were sticky. Everything hurt. Jonah opened his eyes and clung harder to the branch in his hand. He was a good forty feet off the ground. He could see clear sky outside of his branches, and the setting sun like a blood-red ball on the horizon. He looked down, and dimly, through the layers of thin needled branches, he could see a crazy snarling and trying to climb. The crazy was too heavy, too clumsy. The branches kept snapping. The rage in those small piggish eyes... The sheer rage... Jonah clung to the trunk of the tree and started to cry weakly with shock and fear and relief. Now he was stuck up here. The crazy couldn't get him, but he couldn't get his food or water. He would have to wait until the crazy died, and that could take days. The crazy at the bottom of the tree looked very healthy. Maybe he had succumbed to the disease recently. It fell about six feet and got up, unharmed to try again. Jonah carefully climbed up about ten more feet. After that the branches got too narrow even for him. He straddled two branches that grew next to each other and leaned his back against the tree trunk. He rested one arm on a natural arm rest and the other clung to a branch above his head. It was going to be a long sleepless night. --- Jonah had belted his belt around his waist and the thin section of trunk. It barely fit, and cut into his stomach, but he felt safer. He was very glad that he could do it, because without it he would have fallen. The night was cold and dewy and windy. It was nearly the end of April, but in Minnesota you never knew what kind of weather you were going to get. It was barely forty degrees, with a high wind. He shivered all night, his arms crossed inside his t-shirt. He would have killed for his sweatshirt, killed for that warm fleece-lined jacket the crazy was wearing. Tears beaded in his eyes. He had handled this kind of cold before, but to just be sitting still... To be unshielded against the wind and weak and exhausted and uncomfortable and barely eight degrees above freezing was unbearable. The crazy at the base of the tree continued it's mindless snarling attempt to climb the tree. It had broken several of the branches at the base of the tree, it was so heavy and clumsy. It only climbed more then ten feet once, and it had promptly fallen down. Jonah slept in feverish little bouts. Never more then a few minutes. By the time the first light peeked over the horizon he was pale and sick with deep hollows under his eyes. The crazy had a thick sheepskin coat on, it hadn't suffered from the cold. Jonah could not say the same. Jonah's immune system was compromised. With a mixture of the chronic stress from Mark and the crazies, and the frozen sleepless night, his immune system was hardly working at full efficiency. He coughed weakly, and though his entire body was frozen, his forehead was like the side of an oven. Jonah could see dew glittering like diamonds between the green fans of needles. He reached out from his perch, plucking bunches of needles and lapping the dew from them. He managed to drink about a mouthful of water from the dew. It wet his dry dusty mouth. He rested his aching head against the dry resiny trunk, closing his eyes for just a moment. The day was so long. The crazy never stopped attacking. It wheezed for air and snarled and tried to climb. the ground was a litter of broken branches, the crazy's hands were a torn and bloody mess. It was so hot and so dry. First it had been cold and miserable, and now it was hot and dry. Jonah just wanted to cry out in frustration. He wanted to curl up on a warm bed and sleep for days. Jonah's mouth felt chalky and his tongue felt too big in his mouth. His throat felt tight and hot and sore. His lips were cracked, and his thirst was like a slow painful itch in his mouth. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could imagine drinks. He could see orange juice in a tall sweating glass, the smell was sweet, and almost metallic. He imagined coffee, rich and black and steaming. He thought about milk, ice-cold. He could almost taste it when he thought about sweet ice tea, almost see the lemon wedge floating in it, hear the ice clinking softly. He drifted all that day, trying not to cry, because he knew it would waste water. The sun moved through the trees in a high arc. The crazy lost it's voice, but still gasped and gurgled at the base of the tree, trying to climb with hands that looked like slabs of raw hamburger. The sun started to set, and Jonah closed his swollen eyelids... Just a nap... Just a little one. He was so tired. --- A gunshot jerked Jonah from his uneasy sleep. The crazy let out a furious howling cry. Not of pain, the crazies didn't feel pain. Just rage. Jonah looked down and saw the crazy running away from the base of the tree, but nothing else. He was too high up. Another gunshot, another cry, but this one gurgling and clogged. A third gunshot, and then silence. Jonah felt a deep surge of fear and relief. The feelings mingled strangely. The sun was halfway set, and he could feel the cold setting in. "H-Hello?" He whispered. He couldn't bring his voice above that, his throat was too badly bruised, his mouth too dry. He let out a weak hoarse cry. "Hellooo?" The voice that came from below was huge and booming and healthy. The voice was smooth and deep and male. Every muscle in Jonah's body with limp with relief and fear. "Hey... I can hear you, can you get down okay? I wont be able to climb up and get you. Get down as quick as you can! There are fewer of them, but if there are any nearby, they heard my gun." Jonah carefully undid his belt, and backed down the tree. He was dizzy and weak, his grip was pathetic. At one point he fell nearly ten feet before a tangle of branches stopped his fall. By the time he reached a point about eight feet off the ground, all of his energy was spent. He could see the man who had saved him. A tall black man who's muscles strained his white shirt under his leather jacket. The leather jacket was worn and used-looking. His face was hard and concerned. He had high cheekbones and a high forehead. His shoulders were very broad. He held a light grey pistol in his hand. Jonah's limbs were shaking. "I c-can't. I can't go any m-m-more." His voice was shaking and tears were leaking down his pale sunken face. "Just drop kid, I'll catch you." The man stood under him, his arms outspread. His face was scared, his eyes darted around the woods. "Come on kid, I have a place we can hide in, just a little ways away. Not even a mile, come on kid. Trust me." Jonah clung to the branch even tighter. He tried to let go, but he couldn't. He couldn't drop, couldn't trust this man. This man would drop him, hurt him, rape him, kill him, maim him. This man was a crazy in disguise. This man was Mark, and he had followed Jonah to this spot. Jonah's thoughts were nightmarish and confused. He clung to the branch and closed his eyes, sobbing weakly, without a voice. "Trust me." Jonah let out a weak sob, and let his muscles go limp, his grip go slack. His skinny body fell through the clawing branches and he landed in those strong arms. The man grunted softly and set him on the ground. Jonah weakly tried to rise, but he felt so dizzy. He was shaking so badly. The man slung Jonah's discarded pack over his shoulder, and picked him up again. "Don't worry kid." The man panted. He was running through the woods, Jonah lolling in his arms. "Don't worry, almost there, we're almost there." Jonah weakly clung to the man's neck and put his feverish face against the man's chest. He trembled and closed his eyes to the comforting wild smell of him. ----- Thaddeus Weaver carefully replaced the camouflage over the tiny two-person airstream trailer and the dull red pickup truck. He had taken it after he found it abandoned on the road. It had been a good home. He had driven it into the woods with the last half-gallon of gasoline. The camouflage was a heavy brown tarp covered with branches and dirt. The trailer was in a bit of a natural depression, so when the camouflage was on, he could barely see it. He had smeared the parts of the trailer not covered by the tarp with handfuls of mud. He had a very frail sick boy in the trailer. Thad looked around for the monsters before slipping inside the trailer. He had lit the space with a single flickering candle. All of the windows were covered with towels and pillowcases. It was very dark, but the candle was all he had. The boy was huddled, fully clothed under his own comforter on the one narrow bed. Thad brought the candle over, to see his face. The boy's face was thin and pale, with deep dark hollows around the closed eyes. The skin was smooth and ghostlike and iridescent with droplets of sweat. His soft matted hair spilled over that pale forehead. The lips were badly cracked and swollen. The boy was showing obvious signs of sleep deprivation and of course, being knocked around by the tree. Dehydration had also taken it's toll. The previous night had been cold, and he was just wearing a thin t-shirt, how long had he been in that tree? It couldn't have been more then a few days, because he wasn't starving. He still had a slight softness to him. He actually very slender, but after the recent events, Thad had become all too familiar with what the sharp angles and swollen joints of real starvation looked like. Thad had seen the bands of looters in the cities. Had this boy been one of them? Fleeing a gang war with a bag of stolen food? The boy was beautiful. Thad could feel stirrings of desire for the boy in his trailer. The boy was very small and young and vulnerable and pretty. Thad had always loved smaller men, slightly feminine men, and he had a weakness for twinks. The boy owed Thad his life, and that was a pretty intoxicating feeling of power. Thad shook his head, he couldn't abuse that power, couldn't stoop to that level of inhumanity. The boy moaned and stirred softly. That pale brow was furrowed with worry and fear. Thad reached out and shook the boy awake. Those pale eyes opened wide, and looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and fear. "Wh-Where are w-we?" After meeting his eyes briefly, the boy looked down, not meeting his gaze. The little waif he had taken in was terrified of him. "First thing's first. My name is Thaddeus, and you can call me Thad. What is your name?" "J-J-J-J" The word got stuck. The boy shut his mouth, those thin cheeks reddening with shame. "J-Jonah." "Alright. We're in my trailer. It's camouflaged, so don't worry. I found that monster and it had treed something. It was you, so I shot it. I don't have much food left, is it okay if I cook up some of yours?" He nodded wordlessly, reluctant to speak. He stuttered badly, and Thad wondered if he had stuttered before the world had gone to hell. "You thirsty?" Another nod. Thad filled up a cup from one of the jugs of boiled water. It tasted nasty and flat, but he didn't trust the river so close to the town. He also treated it with iodine. Jonah sat up and greedily slurped at the water, a little of it slopping down his chin, making desperate little noises as he drank. He finished the cup, and looked scared to ask for another. The boy was a shivering frightened bundle of nerves. Thad suddenly pictured a tiny trembling white rabbit, cowering in the shadow of a predator. Thad filled the cup again and handed it to the boy. Thad had to wonder. If he had been alone and treed he would have been grateful if someone saved him. What had happened to make Jonah so terrified of him? "Th-Thank y-y-you." He whispered. He was daring to look at Thad again, and some of that frozen terror was leaving that worn pretty face. The boy was relaxing, ever so slightly. Thad smiled at him, and the boy smiled back tentatively. "Try to relax Jonah. I'm glad I met you, I'm glad to have someone to talk to. The last human being I talked to was about a month ago." Thad stood up and set the candle down on the counter. "Now I'm going to go make us some supper. The fireplace is a good hundred yards away from here, for concealment purposes. Do you want to write down what happened to you since things went to hell? Write down your story?" Jonah looked up at him, confused. "Wh-Wh-Why d-do I need t-t-to wr-write?" Then he realized, and Thaddeus was relieved. He didn't want to explain to Jonah that his stutter was too bad for him to be easily understood. Thad dug up a yellow legal pad that had been in the airstream trailer when he found it. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 02 "If you're too tired, you can sleep. I don't need the story right away." Thad took two of the cans and stepped out of the trailer. Jonah rested on the bed with the legal pad and a pen in his resiny hands. --- When Thad came back, Jonah jumped a little. He was a nervous wreck, and he had just been drifting off to sleep. His story of after the crazies had taken over covered a page and a half of the legal pad in small neat handwriting. He smiled shyly at Thad, and ducked his head. Thad had the two cans, he had roasted their contents in their own cans, and he had wrapped them both with thin strips of towel to protect their hands. Jonah took the wrapped can, feeling the heat baking up through the rough strips of cloth. The can was full of clam chowder, the kind where you didn't need to add water. Thad handed him a spoon, and Jonah started to eat slowly. He was so hungry, but he knew that he would be sick if he ate too fast. He took one bite, and closed his eyes as his stomach wailed and growled at the torment. Thad ate faster, and started to read the legal pad while spooning beef stew into his mouth. Jonah took the opportunity to just look at him. To fill his eyes. Thad was very handsome. He looked strong and fierce, but his eyes were gentle. He didn't have any of the distant insanity that had always been in Mark's eyes. Jonah looked at those strong hands with the elegant tapered fingers. The skin under those shiny fingernails was a dusky pink. His palms were creamy and lined. About a third of the way down the first page, Thad gave him an unreadable look. Jonah had written that he had run with four young men for a while, but they had beaten him up and left him by the side of the road as they sped away in their truck. They hadn't beaten him severely, but he had been on his own. They had gotten rid of him because he had foolishly said that he was gay. Thad had just read that line, but instead of confirming if he was homophobic or not, he just gave Jonah that unreadable look and continued to read. Jonah looked down at his soup. He started to eat faster, the soup was hot, and had burned bits in it, but he was so uncomfortable that he had to do something. Jonah hadn't written all of it. He could barely think, barely comprehend what Mark had done to him, much less write it out for a stranger. He had written about the farm, and how the brothers from the south had taken over, but nothing about the increasing level of abuse from Mark. Thad finished reading it, and read the last paragraph again, confused. Jonah watched him with those big pale blue eyes. "You wrote that you were doing well. You had plenty of food, a good leader, a Doctor. Why did you leave? You said that most of them weren't prejudiced towards you anyway." Thad was looking steadily at him. Jonah felt like his insides were squirming, and he didn't want to lie to the man who had saved his life. The one thing that he didn't want to do just as badly was tell him the truth. Jonah compromised. "C-Can I t-t-tell you later? I'm so tired." Thad looked disturbed, even frightened. "Jonah, are you bitten?" Jonah was confused for a moment, and then he saw. Thad was afraid that he had been kicked out of the idyllic little community because of infection. Jonah could see his fears. Jonah started to strip out of his t-shirt, knowing that Thad would want to see him, make sure he wasn't infected. --- The boy was stripping, and Thad could feel some kind of emotion that was deep and primal, less of an emotion, and more of an urge. An urge like intense thirst. A hot intense throbbing in his groin. Something about the way those thin arms moved, the knowledge of how weak and small this boy was. Knowing that he was gay, an insidious voice that told Thad that the boy wouldn't mind. The boy wouldn't mind, and it had been so long since he had fucked someone. This was wrong, his every primal urge was screaming at him to tear that shirt from the Jonah's frail torso and turn him over on the bed. He couldn't do that! He couldn't, what was he thinking? With an anguished frown on his face, Thad reached and pulled the hem of that shirt back down, smoothing the dirty cloth. "I trust you Jonah." He said in a quiet strained voice. Jonah looked up at him timidly. There was attraction there, attraction and yearning. Thad wouldn't have to force himself on this young man, just wait, he just had to wait. Jonah lay back, and Thad tucked the blankets in around his lean battered body. He felt safe. For the first time since Mark and David had arrived, he felt safe and calm. He knew that Thad wouldn't hurt him, or throw him out. The airstream went dark as Thad blew out the candle. Jonah rested his feverish face on the cool pillow, and he felt those dark tapered fingers on his cheek, warm and callused. For one terrible second, Jonah thought that he would hear the metallic growl of a zipper, that Thad would force his head down on the pillow, and that the big man would hold him down. Jonah had been so badly cowed by Mark, that he flinched now, suddenly terrified that he would soon be hearing his own muffled sobs of pain. All of the good feelings had evaporated. Thad just tucked a strand of his messy dark hair behind his ear. It was a gentle gesture, one that calmed Jonah, and left him feeling safe again. He rested his bruised face against the pillow, and closed his eyes. He was so tired, he needed to sleep. --- Jonah slept for almost ten hours. Thad couldn't sleep for more then three hours at a time. He catnapped, but was reluctant to leave the trailer, leave his new partner. Jonah was such a beautiful boy, but so fragile-looking. Thad felt Jonah's forehead while the boy slept. Feverish, but dry. If he was infected, he would be pouring sweat from every part of his body. While glad that his little waif wasn't infected, the fever was nothing to be happy about. Thad frowned. Jonah's face was so hot, it was like a stone that had been left out in the sun. Jonah sighed in his sleep and turned over. Thad saw the dried blood that almost completely filled the cup of Jonah's left ear. The ear itself was swollen to nearly twice it's size, the skin a dull reddish purple. Thad felt his stomach lurch slightly, he hadn't been prepared. Thad very carefully swept the dark hair aside to better look at the deep extensive bruise. It was nearly black in places. The t-shirt Jonah was wearing was too big for him, and one of his delicate shoulders was nearly poking out of the neck-hole. When Jonah rolled over, it revealed a ring of dark bruises around the base of his slender neck. Jonah was lying. Not outright, but covering the truth. He had not been safe, no matter how idyllic his last home had been. Someone had hurt him, maybe tried to kill him. The boy whimpered in his sleep and curled up. Thad felt his heart throb painfully. It was impossible to feel any sort of anger or frustration toward's Jonah, he was just too badly hurt. Thad pulled up the blankets to cover the Jonah up to his chin. --- Jonah opened his eyes, and his head was buzzing dully. It was dark, except for a little bit of soft sunlight that leaked in through the edges of the blanket covering the window. He could see dim shadows in the trailer, but he couldn't make out Thad. "Thad?" He whispered. His voice sounded very soft, hoarse, afraid. He didn't want to be alone again, not so soon after finding someone! He flinched when he saw movement, but he was smiling. "Good morning." He whispered. "Morning, did you sleep okay?" Thad's voice was garbled and quiet, only heard through one ear. Jonah hated how vulnerable he felt with only half of his hearing and sense of balance. "Yeah. Can I p-please have a drink?" "Sure Jonah, one minute." Thad moved surely through the dark trailer, over to the water jugs. He brought Jonah a cupful of water and it tasted flat, but the wetness was soothing on his raw throat. When he was done with the cup, Thad handed him a can that was half-filled with fruit cocktail. "Breakfast." He whispered hoarsely. "Th-Thank you." Jonah stammered back. He gulped the fruit hungrily. The soft fruit and sweet syrup was soothing on his bruised throat. "Is... Is there any way I can c-clean up?" Jonah's stutter was already better. He looked more relaxed already. Thad nodded in the dark. "We have to be careful, but I can bring you outside. look through your bag and grab any clothes you want to change into." "'Kay." Jonah whispered, slowly getting up. He fell as he tried to get off the bed and his legs tangled in the covers. Thad caught him, helping him to untangle. Jonah was engulfed in Thad's arms, surrounded by his masculine smell. For a moment, every instinct in his bruised body told him to writhe out of his grip, get away. He felt so trapped, so constricted in the man's loose grip. But Thad was so warm, and his hands were so gentle. After a single moment where his lean body was hard and resisting, Thad was about to let him go, when suddenly his body went yielding and limp. Thad couldn't let him go, or he would fall. Jonah's face was against his chest, his arms clinging to him loosely, his breathing suddenly relaxed and slow. He felt safe. He felt safe and protected in this man's arms. Thad gently helped him up. "C'mon Jonah, your okay. I'm not gonna drop you." "I know." Jonah whispered. But too soft for him to hear. --- It was cool outside. Jonah walked after Thad, moving slowly because of how unbalanced he was. Thad moved slowly, looking around sharply, alertly. Jonah wasn't nearly as alert. He had a terrible headache that came in waves. It felt like an icicle being driven into his tear ducts and into the soft meat of his brain. Jonah hugged the folded clothes in his arms, and glanced to the left with terrified eyes. He felt heavy on his left side. He felt very vulnerable, and had to look often to compensate. Thad noticed, and he felt a pang of anger for whatever sick bastard had hurt him like this. He was moving slowly, timidly, scanning the forest over his left shoulder with desperate anxiety. Whoever had hurt him, they had crippled him for life. Jonah looked worn out and pale in the weak sunlight. He winced when his headache gave an extra-powerful throb. Despite his restful sleep, his anxiety made him look older, and weak. Thad waited for him to catch up, and he offered his hand. Jonah took it gratefully. Thad led him through the small trail to the river. Thad's hand steadied him, and gave him a little desperately-needed confidence. They reached a soft sandy bank of the river, and Thad stood guard. "Try to be quick." He muttered. "They usually aren't very active this early, but I don't want to take chances." Jonah moved quickly and stripped. Thad felt a shadow of that same uncontrollable lust for the frail boy, but it wasn't as strong. Jonah was very badly bruised. He had a welt across his lower back, another bruise on his skinny little ass. Jonah was hesitant to turn around, and after that he was submerged in cool water. When he turned, Thad saw old marks on his chest and ribs, and a newer darker bruise on his stomach. He had been beaten more then once. Thad gave him a bar of soap, and Jonah used it on his body under the water. At times his face was a grimace of hurt. Other times, he looked anxiously to his left. He looked so pale. That thin wet back was inviting and vulnerable. Thad forced himself to look around and away, scouring the trees for any sign of the monsters. Jonah soaped his tender ear. He whimpered once with the pain of it, and the suds between his fingers were pink with the dissolving blood. A clot of blood came out after he worked it hard enough, and after that it hurt too much to keep trying. He stepped out of the water, his eyes swollen from tears. Thad could see him. A tuft of dark dripping pubic hair surrounding a pale soft little cock that swung gently between those thin bruised thighs... Wait. The bruises. Thad looked openly at those tender bruises. Jonah saw him looking and snatched his shirt to cover himself demurely. His thin cheeks were flushed with shame and his big pale eyes were wide and afraid. Dark bruises on the inner thighs, on the neck, upper arms. The blow to the head. It all made a sick maddening kind of sense. Thaddeus Weaver was still a policeman, and he had seen diagrams of this kind of bruising countless times. He had seen them in real life in the hospital, and on a murder victim during her autopsy. Thad realized what he was doing. His face was contorted with anger, and he was staring at this naked frightened boy. Jonah was looking at him with something just short of terror. Thad looked away, his dark face hot with blood. He was so furious, he wanted to run, to punch something, just to blow off some of the steam. He felt like there was an animal in his rib cage, a hot and writhing bundle of furious energy. "Thad?" That voice was timid, and small. Like a little kid who knew he had done something wrong. "Thad? A-Are y-you okay?" He was just standing there, standing there, holding the shirt over his groin, and covered in bruises that some animal had beaten into his skin. Thaddeus could feel his trembling fists unclench and go limp. It was hard, to let that vicious anger go, but Jonah was so afraid already. He couldn't be angry around the timid little teenager, couldn't make him more scared then he already was. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong Jonah. Besides the usual, I mean." He gestured to the woods around them with a sweep of his left arm. "I just feel a little jumpy in the woods. Do you need some help getting your clothes on?" Jonah looked less afraid. He shook his dripping head solemnly and dried off with his dirty T-shirt. Thad looked around, keeping his eyes on the trees, where the real danger lurked. He couldn't help seeing that frail bruised body out of the corners of his eyes. --- For lunch they had some stale crackers and prunes and water. It was the last of his dried goods. All of their food consisted of sixteen cans of soup and chili, four cans of fruit, and three cans of tuna. Thad kept glancing at the little stack of cans on the counter, as if hoping they would multiply. There was nothing to do but wait. That had been his plan all along, try and outlast the crazies, who weakened and died so quickly, but not quickly enough. Jonah had brought eight cans to his stash, but now he had two mouths to feed. In the darkness of the trailer, Jonah sat curled up on the bed, and Thad was reading in the light of one candle, bent close to the light to make out the words. He had to read, to try and get his mind off of the food situation, and Jonah, and how badly the poor boy had been hurt. Jonah hadn't told him. He wanted to wait until Jonah felt safe enough to tell him. Jonah had catnapped lightly, but he wasn't really tired. He was looking at Thad, trying to memorize the features of his face, the texture of his dark skin, and the way his face moved when he blinked or bit his full lower lip. His body ached. His head hurt so bad that tears sprang to his eyes when he moved too fast. He was deeply attracted to Thaddeus. He would have been attracted before all of this mess, Thad was a tall handsome and intelligent man. But after all that had happened, Thad had also saved his life, given him food and water when he was dehydrated and hungry. Thad had kept him safe, and given him shelter, and was nursing him back to health. If Thad had been an attractive choice of a partner before the sickness, he was just short of a god now. Thad had given him everything. Jonah slid to the floor, and Thad looked up, unable to see him very well after leaning so close to the light. Jonah crawled across the carpet. Crawling was the only way he could move without having to hold on to something, or without feeling like he was going to fall. He crawled under the card table where Thad was reading, and rested his cheek against the knee of Thad's jeans. He stayed there, leaning against him, for about a minute. Thad was so solid, so warm, so there. Jonah nuzzled against the warm fabric, and kissed Thad's inner thigh gently. "Whatever you want." Jonah whispered, barely audible. His voice was soft, and he didn't stutter. He huddled under the table as Thad rested his hand on top of Jonah's wet hair, stroking gently. Thad stared off into dark space. The last tiny bit of his lucid mind that was still functioning told him to save the candle, that he could do this easily in the dark. He blew out the candle and whispered to the boy crouching between his legs. His voice was hoarse with need. "I think you know what I want Jonah... Come here baby." He could feel the frail boy in the dark, feel those little hands caressing the crotch of his faded Levi's. His cock flushed with blood in record time, and he could feel Jonah nuzzle his cheek against the bulge, and kiss it. He kept his hands down there, touching Jonah's wet hair, feeling those flushed cheeks. He could feel the sudden give, and the extra room as Jonah unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. He could feel Jonah kissing his cock through the soft stretchy fabric of his underwear. He said silent thanks that he had given himself a sponge bath while the boy was sleeping, and that the pair of underwear he was wearing was a pair that he had rinsed clean in the river. "That's it baby... Thank you... Oh lord, it's been so long..." He hissed the next intake of air when Jonah put the fat tip of his turgid cock into his hot damp mouth, with the fabric of the underwear still separating the two. The friction of the cloth and the pressure of Jonah's hot and willing mouth sent a rush of blood to his throbbing groin. Jonah knelt under the table as Thad shifted and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. It was so different. The sensation of the throbbing cock was pleasant, arousing. Thad's hands on his head were gentle, caressing. He whimpered and leaned in, gently licking Thad's exposed cock in the dark. Thad moaned and caressed his hair while he licked and fondled Thad's cock with his hands and tongue. He reached under and cradled the heavy warmth of Thad's testes. Before this, Jonah had just struggled to keep his mouth open, and struggled not to gag as Mark viciously forced his head up and down on his cock. Now he got a chance to explore a man under his own power, and it restored his crushed sense of confidence and self-worth to do so. Thad's hands were gentle, caressing. He whispered to the boy between his legs, whispered advice and encouragement. "Careful Jonah, your teeth...mmm...That's better... It's okay, go slow... Ahhh, that feels amazing Jonah." Jonah tried to go down deep, and whimpered slightly when he choked. His throat was so sore. Thad reassured him. "Shh... Don't try that, your neck... it probably hurts like a bitch... Just keep licking my head... There you go... Put your hand around the base, and spit on it...now rub...Jesus... that feels good." Jonah rubbed, spreading his own spit around Thad's thick dark cock like lube. He sucked on the softness of the head, and burrowed the tip of his tongue into the slit at the tip, tasting drops of precome that oozed out. Thad groaned softly, and his thighs trembled tautly. The boy between his legs was very good, and the combination of that sexy hot mouth and those skillful hands had him near the edge. He could feel sweat dripping down his shaven skull and beading at the small of his back. "I'm close Baby." He whispered, mussing Jonah's damp hair. The air was hot and close in here, but in a good way. The natural smells of sweat and sex were filling the airstream trailer. He could hear the sounds of Jonah stroking his own cock, little wet slapping noises. Jonah whimpered softly, and sucked on the head of Thad's cock, stroking the dark shaft with his pale hand, barely able to see in the darkness. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 02 Jonah backed away a little, licking the sensitive head with his tongue. He had backed away so he could rub harder and faster. Thad swore softly, humping his hips gently into the boy's pumping fist. "Right now Baby, right now!" Thad gasped. Jonah turned his head slightly, and felt hot wet release spill onto his cheek. He rested the clean side of his face against Thad's jeans, closing his eyes and stroking his cock. He was going to come... "You still hard Baby?" Thad's voice was low and sexy. He bent over, reached down, and Jonah whimpered softly as Thad's large hand brushed his cock. Thad was wiping his face with a washcloth, Thad was holding his wrist gently, without twisting or grasping. Thad was leading him up, and to the bed. Jonah felt so strange. He had sucked Thad off, and it had felt amazing. Thad's hands were so gentle. Thad was leading him to the bed, and Jonah could feel his body stiffening, his bruises aching with fear. He couldn't help it, he was so afraid that his steel-hard erection was wilting. He sat on the bed, and then lay down. He was on his back, and Thad was crawling on the bed over him. He couldn't talk, couldn't move. It was so dark, he was shaking. He closed his eyes, numb, waiting for something to happen. He could feel Thad's lips against his own. The breath he hadn't known he had been holding came out in a rush. He leaned up, and whimpered softly. Thad's muscular arms went under his, and cradled his head. Jonah clung to the older man's broad back, kissing and crying with how good it felt to be kissing him. Jonah was under him, but he wasn't being crushed. Thad was protecting him, flexing over him, pouring out warmth. Thad gently nipped his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. "I can't tell you how good this feels Jonah." Thad whispered. "Can I take care of you now?" "Wh-What?" Jonah was looking up at him in the dark. Neither of them could see the other. Thad could hear the confusion, the arousal in that soft little voice. Thad kissed Jonah's lower lip where he had bitten it, soothing the minuscule hurt away. "You brought me off, and it felt amazing Jonah. I want to do the same to you." Jonah's breath came in a jagged sexy whimper. Jonah kissed him hard, and Thad could feel hot tears against his face. Jonah was flexing his skinny hips, Thad could feel Jonah's erection grinding at his stomach, through his shirt and the sweatpants and underwear that Jonah was wearing. Thad gently kissed Jonah's neck, being feather-light where he thought the bruises were. Jonah kissed the smooth top of his head, and moaned ever so quietly when Thad sucked on the side of his neck. Thad moved down, kissing Jonah's chest and torso, lifting up the baggy shirt so his lips touched the clean warm skin. Jonah was begging him. "P-Please Thad... Please..." Jonah was caressing the sides of his face and scalp with his hands, his fingertips. He moaned deliriously with happiness when Thad's nibbling lips and hot tongue reached his lower abdomen, teasing him. Jonah's member was small, and strait. Thad kissed the hot throbbing head, and caressed it with his hand, feeling it. It was a meek circumcised thing, of a little less then four inches. Jonah trembled with shame. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "Don't be." Thad whispered back. He ran his tongue up from the base of Jonah's cock to the tip, swirling the head to taste the leaking precome. Jonah didn't cry out, but his breath rushed in and his hands curled into trembling little fists at his side. Thad pushed his head all the way down, feeling coarse wiry hair around his lips, feeling Jonah's body shaking with pleasure, tasting the flow of precome. Jonah was breathing quickly, in hot little pants that were almost screams. "Thad..." He whispered. He rested his head on the pillow and gasped with pleasure as his new lover teased and licked and sucked his throbbing cock. Thad drew back until it was just the teasing tip of his tongue running up and down, making Jonah whimper with need. Thad caressed his small member, massaged his testes, rolling them gently. He gently rubbed Jonah's bruised inner thighs, trying to soothe away the hurt. Jonah was so hard, he was like steel. Precome drooled down the side, matting the thick pubic hair. He was breathing so fast, sweat had beaded all over his body. He whimpered with joy when Thad engulfed his cock again, sucking gently, taking his entire length. "Thad! I'm gonna... I'm gonna come! Thad, w-watch o-out!" A moment later, Thad felt the rock-hard cock in his mouth spasm, and Jonah filled his mouth with warm release. He sucked gently on the sensitive, softening little member, making Jonah squeal contentedly. Thad reached over the bed and spat into a cup. He crawled up the bed and stripped out of his shirt to be more comfortable. Jonah's frail torso was warm and slick with sweat. Jonah huddled into Thad's warm bare chest, the feel of his naked skin was soothing, hypnotic, calming. His voice was shaky, but his stutter was gone. "Thank you Thad." Jonah slid out of his pants and underwear. He felt safe. He felt safer here, naked and huddled in Thad's arms, then he had been in months. Thad squirmed out of his clothing and moved so he was on his side, spooning the frail boy. Thad held Jonah, the fragile boy he had found bruised and crying, afraid to fall into his arms. Jonah had fallen asleep. He pulled a blanket up and over their entwined bodies and shut his eyes. --- When Thad woke up from his nap, Jonah was also awake. The boy was lying, fully relaxed, gently running his fingertips up and down Thad's forearm in a trance. Light leaked into the airstream from around the corners of the heavy homemade drapes. Jonah was comparing their skin tones, apparently pleased by the contrast. Thad could see bruises barely an inch from his eyes. Right in front of him, on the pale tender skin at the nape of his neck, under the thick dark hair. He could see two oval bruises, barely a centimeter apart, wide and spreading and slightly tilted. Matched with the bruises at the front of his neck. Thad could imagine a pair of hands, thumbs digging into the back of Jonah's neck, the rest of the fingers digging deep into the soft front of Jonah's throat, cutting off air. He leaned forward, and put a gentle kiss on each of the dark bruises. He was startled by how hot and dry Jonah's skin felt. Jonah stretched slightly, yawning like a cat. He turned around, and for a second, Thad could see that swollen ear, no longer filled with blood, but still defunct. Jonah smiled at him, and kissed him. Thad nipped that full lower lip, and Jonah almost purred. Jonah was so fragile. Thad felt a heavy responsibility for him. It wasn't just him anymore. He had to take care of someone now. He leaned forward and kissed Jonah right on the nose. He felt so protective. He had felt this way since he had caught Jonah, breaking his fall. Thad saw those mottled bruises on the front Jonah's tender throat, and that animal in his rib cage woke up again. He couldn't help but be furious when he saw how badly Jonah had been hurt. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had to know. "Jonah? Baby?" Jonah could see his anger, feel his taut muscles, practically smell it. It killed Thad a little inside to see that fearful look on his lover's face. To hear him stutter. "Th-Thad? Wh-What's wrong?" Thad closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, to calm down. "I'm not angry at you Jonah. I'm never angry at you. Shh..." Thad leaned forward and kissed those sweet hesitant lips. "Baby? Who did this to you?" Jonah rested his hot face on Thad's arm, avoiding Thad's eyes. "C-Can we p-please not... I d-don't want..." He sounded so distressed. He was starting to cry. Thad instantly felt terrible. He shushed the trembling boy and stroked his thin shoulders. He covered Jonah's face with sweet kisses, tasting tears, and feeling the deep rushing breaths that Jonah took, to try and stop himself from crying. Thad just held the boy even closer. Jonah was pressing into him, as if trying to make sure that he was getting the absolute most skin contact possible. Thad could feel the warm tuft of pubic hair against his hip, and feel that soft tasty little cock pressed there too. Jonah could feel Thad's soft member twitching, and hardening. He kissed Thad's firm mouth, grateful for so many reasons. His head throbbed sickly, an ice-pick was being driven through his eyes. He moaned with pain and arousal. Thad spat in his hand and reached down to stroke Jonah's cock. He rubbed Jonah's sexy little prick until Jonah was whimpering and squirming adorably. Jonah pressed his face into Thad's muscular chest and gasped. "Fuck my hand Baby, it feels good..." Thad had curled his hand into a fist with the head of Jonah's slender cock resting on his thumb. The inside of his curled fingers were slick with saliva, and the hole he made was small and tight. Jonah whimpered and moved his skinny hips, gasping with how good it felt. When he reached the end of his thrust, the tip of his cock just barely jutted out of the other side of Thad's hand. Jonah whimpered and fucked and gasped. He was so close. His head pounded sickly. Thad started to stroke, and Jonah whimpered and gasped. "Thad..." He moaned, breathless and high-pitched. "Please Thad, I'm gonna..." "That's it Baby, come for me..." His voice was low and warm and commanding. Jonah shivered with delight and thrust with a soft gasp. He pressed his face into Thad's warm muscular chest and gasped as he came, as the network of nerves in his groin flared and his come spattered onto Thad's hip. He rested his hot sweaty face against Thad's chest, squirming a little when Thad rubbed his thumb across the tender sensitive head of his cock. Jonah reached between Thad's legs, and felt the heavy length of Thad's member. Thad wasn't huge, but he wasn't small either. Jonah stroked his length very gently, trying to feel, measure with his hand. Thad's cock felt warm, almost alive in his hand. Thad's cock was so hot, and so hard. The skin moved slightly, and Jonah could feel the slight roughness of his circumcision scar. Jonah lifted his head and kissed Thad's mouth softly, stroking Thad's cock. It was so thick, curved slightly upwards, and his pubic hair was thick and soft and dense. Jonah broke the kiss to cough. The cough was a low croupy sound. For a moment Thad was just a little annoyed. Jonah had been rubbing his cock so well, and he had been close to coming. Jonah turned away to cough, and Thad rubbed his thin back. Then Jonah kept coughing. He couldn't stop. Now Thad was concerned. Jonah was coughing very hard, almost like he was trying to cough up a lung. His breath between explosions of coughing was gasping, almost like a sob. Thad got up. His erection was fading fast. Jonah was curled into a small spasming comma on the bed, gasping and coughing and sobbing for air. His eyes were glassy in the dim light, and though he was trying to muffle the sounds, he was still making a lot of noise. Thad brought back water, and heaved the weakly coughing Jonah into a sitting position. He held the cup to Jonah's mouth and the boy sucked weakly at the cup's edge. Finally, the coughing slackened and died. He slurped the water, wincing slightly at the pain of swallowing, and tears leaked from his reddened eyes. Thad felt Jonah's forehead, and was shocked at how hot the skin was. Jonah wasn't hot though, he was shivering. His eyes were glassy. He hacked one more cough and spat up a wad of phlegm into his hand. Thad wiped it away with a towel and saw that it was filled with blood. Jonah smiled weakly at him. "I'm sorry... Come back to bed, please?" His face was ghastly pale in the dim light. How hadn't he seen how sick Jonah was? He was shuddering and getting ready to cough again. Thad bundled up the shuddering naked boy in all of the blankets he had, propping up Jonah's hot sweaty head on pillows. He wet a cloth and put it on Jonah's blisteringly hot forehead. Jonah moaned softly. "I'm okay... I'm just tired..." His words were soft and slurred. "My... My head..." His voice was weak with pain. Thad bundled him up and brought water, forcing Jonah to sip steadily until he had emptied out a gallon jug. "So, you have a headache. Were you coughing the night before? When you were in the tree?" A listless nod. "Were you sick before? Did you have a cold or anything?" A listless shrug. "You say you're cold right now, are you hungry? Do you hurt anywhere?" Jonah moaned and squirmed slightly under the blankets. "Not hungry... my head hurts... and my stomach... and my chest when I cough. I feel so... I feel so..." Thad felt his stomach sink heavily. He tried to make his voice sound unworried and confident. "Calm down baby. You have a bad cold... You just need to rest. I'll get you some water." Jonah didn't have a cold. Thad was absolutely sure now. Jonah had pneumonia. Thad remembered when he had been sick with pneumonia in tenth grade, and it had been like this. Thad remembered having to drain his lungs in the hospital, getting a tube inserted down his throat while he was unconscious. Thad wrapped the blankets tighter around Jonah's body and went to get the water. What if Jonah needed to drain his lungs? How on earth could he get Jonah the medical attention he needed? How could they drain his lungs if he needed it? Thad lifted Jonah into a sitting position. He looked exhausted, and his eyes were slightly sunken. He smiled feebly at Thad and drank thirstily. Jonah's hair was soft and silky against his hand Jonah curled up under the tent of blankets and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he looked very young. Thad dug in the cupboards for two cans of soup. After hesitating for a moment, he swapped one of the cans out for chili. Jonah would need all of the soup. He didn't even have antibiotics. His stomach churned with worry. "Thad? Wh-Where are you going?" Jonah looked lucid, but so tired. His brow was furrowed like he was confused, or in pain. "Just gonna make some soup Baby. It'll warm you up, gotta smother the cold." Those pale eyes glittered with tears. "D-Don't lie to me Thad, I'm sick." He was going to say more, but he was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Thad hurried to the bed and rubbed Jonah's back, shushing him gently. "Yeah... You're a sick little man." Thad murmured, rubbing Jonah's thin sweaty back. "But we're gonna get through this. In the morning, I'll walk to the next farmhouse, see if they don't have some antibiotics. Jonah turned over and kissed Thad's hand. Jonah's face was hot and dry. "Be careful Thad, come back soon." --- Jonah's headache was getting worse. He couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning, waiting for Thad to get back from making the soup. He was so scared. His body ached. His stomach felt dead, like he would never be hungry again. Jonah knew that he was sick. He hated that. Being sick was something that wasn't important. It was something that you took some pills and you were all better. Being sick was something that made you stay away from work for a day, something where all you had to do was rest and drink plenty of fluids. Being sick had been something minor, but now it was something that could kill him. Maybe two days ago, he would have welcomed death, but not now. He had found Thad. He had known Thad for barely twenty-four hours but he was already in love. Thad had rescued him, nursed him, protected him and given him love. He jumped when the door opened, and felt his breath come out in a sob of relief. He sat up and clutched his head as the tender meat of his brain throbbed sickly in response. "Hey little man, just lay down. I'll take care of you." Thad's stubbled face was worried, his eyes dark and unreadable. He set the cans down on the counter and came back to prop Jonah up on a lump of pillows and blankets. Thad came back and Jonah took the can from him. The tomato soup had cooled, so he sipped it from the edge of the can. It was warm, and it felt like blood going down his throat. Thad ate the chili in hungry bites, always keeping an eye on Jonah. Jonah tried to give him the can, but it still had a third of the soup in it. "I'm not hungry." He whispered. He looked strangely healthy. His eyes were sparkling, his skin was glowing, but Thad knew that it was the fever making him look so hale. His eyes were still glassy, and he was having a hard time swallowing, because it hurt so badly. "Try to finish it Jonah... You need your strength." He pushed the can back and it slipped from Jonah's numb fingers and spilled on the floor. Jonah flinched. Tears spilled down his fever-bright cheeks. "I'm sorry!" He whispered. His eyes were bright with fear. Thad had felt a loss when the soup, precious calories, fell to be soaked up by the carpet, but he struggled to stay calm. Jonah was so timid. He didn't want to frighten his poor sick little man any more. The soup-stain looked like blood. "Calm down Jonah, please. I'm not angry. Here, have some water." Jonah choked down some water while Thad sopped the soup from the floor and scraped his can of chili clean. Jonah was shivering. He was wrapped in a sheet and a comforter and a knitted afghan, but he was still shivering. His teeth were chattering. Thad stripped off his jacket and jeans and moved onto the bed. He unwrapped the tangle of blankets and let himself inside Jonah's nest. Jonah huddled into Thad's broad chest. Thad's body was firm, and warm. Jonah rested his cheek on Thad's firm bicep. Thad held him close as he shivered back to warmth. "Just try to relax Babe. Just rest, all you need is some rest." Jonah crawled up the bed and pressed his feverish face into Thad's shoulder. "Jonah?" Thad whispered. Jonah looked up into Thad's handsome worried face. "We have to go back. We have to go back to your group." For a moment, it didn't register, and then Jonah's face twisted with horror. "No!" It was a whisper, but almost a scream. "No! We can't... We can't go back. I can't go back! Y-You don't un-understand!" Thad wrapped Jonah tightly in his arms. Jonah was gasping, hyperventilating. Thad shushed him, holding his scrawny body close, feeling his breathing slow, feeling the sick young man cry softly into his neck. He was trembling. Trembling with complete and utter fear. "Please listen Jonah." Thad whispered. Jonah just moaned and buried his hot wet face further into his lover's neck. "You said that you had a doctor back among your group." Jonah interrupted him. "He's a paramedic." "Whatever." Thad said firmly. "You said that they had some medical supplies there. Antibiotics, anything. I can't help you here, I don't even have fucking aspirin." Jonah cried harder. "I can't go back. Please!" Thad held him tighter. "I know someone hurt you Jonah. Tell me who it was Jonah. I'll fucking kill him!" "NO!" Jonah gasped. He cried inconsolably, sobbing into Thad's chest while the older man embraced him and gritted his teeth to keep his temper in check. "We're going back tomorrow. I know which way you came from, and I know the farm. I avoided it because of the crazies. I'm not going to let you die from a fucking infection. I wont let anyone hurt you." Jonah turned away, but Thad pulled him close. "Tell me who did it Jonah." Thad felt something inside him. It was like his rage from before, but cold, refined. He knew, without a doubt, that he would kill the man who had done this to Jonah. Jonah closed his eyes. His head was pounding, and he felt like he was going to be physically sick. He was trembling and he felt like he needed to scream. He had gone through hell to get away, and now he needed to go back. "Promise me." Thad gently stroked Jonah's damp hair. "Promise what?" Alone at the End of the World Ch. 02 Jonah turned to him. In the dimmest light from the edges of the window, his face still had that strange healthy look, but the color in his cheeks seemed waxy and false, like someone had painted the health on his face. His eyes were hectic and bright. "Promise me you wont try to hunt Mark down." Thad was very quiet. "It was Mark? Your leader's younger brother? Why the fuck are you trying to protect him." Jonah flinched from the anger in his lover's voice. "Because. That's the reason I left. I couldn't tell anyone, because if they f-found out about him, then something would happen. I'm n-not sure what, b-but someone will get hurt. Promise me Thad." Thad went stiff. His anger was building up inside him. Couldn't Jonah see? Why couldn't he see why this animal needed to die? "Ow! Thad stop it!" The panicky note in Jonah's slurred voice snapped Thad out of his rage, and he realized that he was holding Jonah too tight, his forearm was digging into Jonah's frail chest, cutting off his air. Jonah went limp and cried helplessly. "P-Promise me!" He whispered. "Promise, or I wont go! You c-can carry me, b-but I'll scream, and m-m-make the c-crazies hear us." Thad rubbed the bridge of his nose. His rage was gone, gone at the shock of hurting Jonah. Now he just felt helpless and scared. "I promise Jonah. I swear, I wont hurt Mark. But if he tries to d-do anything to you--I'll... I'll kill him." Thad was choking, trying to keep the angry sob from his throat. Jonah went limp in his arms, huddling into his body. He fell asleep with the tears drying on his face. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 03 * Sorry that this was down for so long. Editors removed it because there was a plot point where Ben got raped by Mark. Wasn't graphic. I just described how Mark threatened Ben not to tell his family afterward. However, the editors are a bunch of pussies, so now it should be back up, but with a large part of it deleted. Suffice to say. BEN GOT RAPED BY MARK AND COULDN'T TELL HIS FAMILY. This is a classic example of show, not tell gone horribly wrong. But fuck, what am I supposed to do about it? All Characters WHO HAVE SEX are 18+* * The sun rose on the forth day of Jonah's absence. The sixteen survivors were all early risers now, but it was cloudy, so most of them didn't rise until much later. --- Vera woke up blearily in the attic of the large farmhouse that had become their home. She could feel the comforting weight of Davis's burly arm across her thin shoulders. Her stomach felt queasy, and her period was almost a week late. Only part of the sick feeling in her stomach was from bundle of cells attached to the uterine wall. She was afraid. She couldn't quite put her finger on how she knew, but she knew the group was no longer coherent. Jonah's departure had shaken the group somehow. Everything was tense. Mark and David had gotten into a fight, and no longer spoke. Everyone was walking on eggshells. Mark had become brusque, and even cruel to his watch partners, or anyone who had to interact with him. Vera shuddered, and moved closer to Davis. Half-asleep, he pulled her in closer. Davis was the kind of partner he hadn't had since college. The casual kind. They didn't have condoms, and Davis tried to pull out, but he didn't always make it. How would he react to realize that he had fathered a child in this uncertain world? How did she feel about it? She opened her eyes in the dim light of the cloudy afternoon, and she could see a couple of her man's shirts hanging from a rafter. They were on gleaming wire hangers. The glint of rosy light from the cold copper wire sent a pang of deathly cold fear through Vera. The cold started in the back of her throat and shriveled her stomach and ended with a sick ache in her quickened womb. For a second, it looked like the hanger was shiny with blood. It wouldn't come to that. She told herself. The hanger gleamed mellowly, and the light curving off of the copper wire seemed to mock her. --- In the bedroom of the upstairs hallway, the one furthest to the right, Janet and Ned were sleeping peacefully in the big bed. Annette wasn't as untroubled. Annette was doing pushups. She had been doing them for a while now, and her shoulders and arms were shrieking at her to stop. She couldn't though, not until her muscles would no longer support her. Annette realized that something bad was going to happen to their group, and she wanted to get out. She had been squirreling away supplies from the cellar, taking secretly. She hadn't told Janet or Ned, the light of her world. Mark was crazy, and David wasn't stopping him. Annette was just starting to suspect that something horrible had happened between Jonah and Mark. Ever since the slender young man with the pale serious eyes had fled, Mark had just been getting worse. Harold had been Mark's watch partner the night before, and Annette had seen them argue over something, and out of nowhere, Mark had delivered a sudden and brutal beating around Harold's face and shoulders. Harold had lost a tooth, and his face was swollen and bruised, the color of blood plums. Mark was still walking around. He hadn't gotten chastised, or detained, or even argued with. No one had said a goddamn word. Annette swore softly as she collapsed, and she got up, her shoulders and pectorals shrieking with discomfort. She moved onto her back and started doing sit-ups. She felt soft. She needed to toughen up. She needed to be ready. It was the end of the world, after all. --- Jenna and Bert and the twins had a bedroom to themselves. The parents slept on the bed, and Franklin was snoring lightly from his nest of blankets on the floor. The door opened, and Ben limped inside. Mark hadn't left any bruises on his face or arms, but he limped nonetheless. The bruises were elsewhere. Ben limped to the edge of his parent's bed, and looked down at his sleeping father, tears spilling down his soft hairless cheeks. After a long minute, he went back to his blanket nest, moving like a crippled deer. --- In the bedroom on the end of the hallway normally housed four men. Jess was out hunting, and Mark's side of the bed was empty. The Doc was a huddled motionless form, but David was sitting upright, every muscle in his body flexing and relaxing in a nervous rhythm. It was just something he did when he was anxious. First his arms, making his biceps swell like they were being pumped full of air. Then his torso, then the chords in his neck. Tectonic plates moved under his skin, tendons stood out like cables, and veins moved in sinuous rivers, like streams of water down windshields in the rain. The door opened, and Mark walked in on velvet feet. For a split second, their eyes locked. David didn't say a word. His face was a blank expanse of stone. Mark got on his side of the bed and turned away to sleep. David didn't move, except for his flexing and relaxing muscles. The Doc woke from his sleep when he heard a low gritty sound. It sounded like a block of stone dragged over concrete. It was a sound that set him on edge, a bad sound. He couldn't find the source. Then he found it. David was grinding his teeth. Mark wasn't the only man on the razor's edge. --- On the roof, Harold and Melvin were keeping watch. They looked out on the garden that Jonah had cared for so tenderly. The garden that was already starting to regress without his constant care. They looked out over the field of tender knee-high corn. Past a certain area, the corn was thin and stunted and choked with weeds. They could only care for so much of it, and the deer and birds were feasting on the acres and acres of land that the survivors couldn't easily take care of. Harold's face was swollen and dark. The color of blood plums. Harold had always looked up to David, and to a lesser extent, Mark. He had made some off-hand comment about how much better it was now that the queer had decided to run off. Mark had gone insane. Melvin shifted. "They're almost an hour late. I wonder if anyone is awake down there." Harold shifted, but didn't speak. Melvin eyed him warily. "I don't mind, I like it up here. Do you want to go down? It's Davis and Vera's turn." Harold still didn't answer. He just got up and went down through the attic window and the ladder propped up on the sill. Harold hadn't spoken a word for twenty-four hours. --- Jess was hunting, his brows pulled low over his eyes. He still didn't know why Jonah had fled. At first he had been sure that Mark had killed him, and was saying that he ran away as a part of an alibi to save his ass. But Jess had followed the trail for several miles. Jonah had fled, and Jess wasn't going to try and bring him back. He just hoped that Jonah would be okay. He felt like such a goddamn coward. Jess looked up, startled as he saw birds rising in a cloud in the distance. Ever-so-faintly, he could hear gunshots, faint popping noises. He swore and started to jog, feeling a sudden and overwhelming feeling of helplessness. He was more then ten miles away from camp. He waited for the gunshots to stop, but they didn't. They just kept going. The time, (though few were keeping track) was almost noon. It was a new day for the sixteen survivors. ----- Thad woke up, and Jonah wasn't by his side. His fear was sudden and enormous and groundless, and he jerked out of the bed as if shocked. Jonah came in from outside, muffling a cough with his forearm and zipping up his jeans. His face was so pale it glowed. His lips and cheeks were colorless, and the only color on his face were the dark grey bags under his eyes and the small hard spots of color high up in his cheeks. Jonah looked at Thad with eyes that were watery and bloodshot and somehow animal. He leaned against the doorway, and hacked into his arm weakly. He spat up a gob of phlegm, and it was streaked with blood. Thad moved forward and enfolded the feverish boy in his arms. Jonah went limp, resting his aching head against Thad's chest. The beat of his lover's heart soothed him. They had to get ready. Jonah was a little better, but the sickness had made him weak. He was still disoriented from that cruel blow to the head, and being dog-sick made it worse. Thad packed the two bags. Food was the most important. He packed all of his precious supply of cans inside his large pack. He put lighter things, like clothes and jackets, inside Jonah's lighter pack. He kept his gun on his belt, and put his limited ammunition in his pocket. He added a pot to boil water, and matches. He packed duct tape and candles and filled a gallon jug with treated water. He looked inside his last box of shells. His gun was loaded with twelve shells, and the box had twenty-three extras. That was all, and he felt so vulnerable. A large quilt was the last thing he dared to pack. His own bag was dangerously heavy and overfull. He wasn't sure how long he could hike with it, especially having to take care of his weakened lover. They would be so vulnerable out there, exposed to crazies and looters and disaster. What if Jonah broke a leg? What if he fainted during the day? What if Thad got injured? What if... What if the crazies attacked? Jonah hefted on his light pack and hesitated by the door. He looked so afraid. Thad realized that he didn't know why Jonah was afraid. Was it because of the journey? Or because of the end of the journey? Thad moved up to him and embraced the young man tightly. "It's time to go Baby." He murmured. "I want to stick with the daylight." --- Travel was surprisingly fast and smooth for the first half of the day. Jonah was weak, but Jonah walked right behind him, muffling his coughs with a rag. After Jonah lagged behind a few times, Thad dug in the pack for a length of twine, He tied one end of the twine to his belt, and the other around Jonah's wrist. That way he could always know that Jonah was there, and keep an eye on his surroundings. They paused often for sips of water. Jonah looked awful, pale and sweaty and as if he would throw up. But he was strong, keeping up with him easily enough. Twice, Thad heard heavy crashing in the underbrush. Both times, they huddled down in the bushes and kept quiet for several minutes. Jonah kept his face pressed against Thad's shoulder, shivering with terror. Traveling was dreamlike, and somehow dazed. Thad's back and shoulders felt strangely weightless, despite the heavy pack. It was a cloudy day, so cloudy that Thad feared it would rain, but it never did. It was so dark, so hazy. A thin mist clouded over the stream. It was so quiet, like something in a dream. Thad stopped them near the stream, to rest and to eat a little. He had cooked the soup, and now they split the cold soup between them. Jonah ate very little, despite Thad's urging. Thad was finishing up, when Jonah spoke. It was the first time he spoke all day. "We're getting close." He whispered foggily. His voice was a hoarse rasp. He coughed twice into his arm, and continued. "When I left, I was going so slow. It hurt to move. It still hurts." His voice was so faint. Thad helped him up, and then he saw the dull maroon blotches on Jonah's inner thighs. Silently, but with something like panic in his eyes, Thad turned Jonah around, and his stomach lurched. Blood soaked through the fabric of Jonah's jeans all the way down to the inside of his knees. Blood had sopped through the fabric at the seat of his pants. "Jonah." Thad whispered. "How long have you been bleeding?" Jonah was pale, so incredibly pale. "Since we passed the wreck." A wrecked blue '92 cadillac. That had been nearly two miles up the road. Thad took Jonah's shoulders and sat him down in the steep grassy ditch at the side of the road. "Sit, rest." He said curtly. He was angry. Thad was furious. Jonah had been bleeding, why hadn't he said anything? He was furious toward's Jonah for suffering in silence, especially when worsening his injury could get them both killed. "Why didn't you say anything?" Thad struggled to keep his voice level. "I would have stopped, we could have taken a break!" Jonah started to cry. "I w-w-was scared. A-A-And we w-were making g-g-good t-time!" Thad jumped, and Jonah moaned. Gunshots. Gunshots split the air, and they were close. Startlingly close. Thad stripped out of the pack, rolling his shoulders. "Come on." Thad muttered. "We have to hurry." He looked at Jonah, pale and trembling and his jeans soaked with blood. Both running or fighting would be laughable with Jonah so weak. He took his gun and touched the box of shells in his pocket for reassurance. Thirty-five shots. That was the absolute best he could hope for. There were bound to be one or two misfires as well. As soon as these shots were gone, he would be weaponless. Thad lashed the packs to the branches of a pine tree to hide them from view, and the gunshots continued. He helped Jonah to his feet, and the young man was shivering weakly in his arms, tears still leaking down his face. "Come on." Thad growled, "We have to see what's happening." They moved together down the side of the road, towards Jonah's home. --- Jess ran through the forest, cursing and crashing through the undergrowth. The gunshots were coming more sporadically, but he still heard them. He counted between the pops, hearing them get louder and louder. David had made it a rule that they shouldn't go to the road if they could help themselves at all. The farmhouse wasn't visible from the road, at least when the trees were in full leaf. David didn't want to draw unwanted attention from looters or refugees. Jess had to break that rule. Going through the forest was slow and wary. There was always a chance, however small, that you could bump into one of the remaining crazies. He ran down the side of the road, his pack bouncing on his back, and his rifle over his shoulder, the safety on, but within easy reach. He cursed softly. He could see a couple of refugees. They weren't crazies, one was supporting the other, and that was something only humans did. Jess's home was in danger, he couldn't stop for possibly infected, possibly dangerous refugees. Jess sidestepped into the woods, and cursed again when he stumbled, crashing through the brush. He could hear one of the refugees cry out with fear. He swore again and moved through the forest, trying to be quieter. "Jonah, get behind me." Jess froze. The voice was deep rough and scared. Jonah? Was that Jonah? Jess moved behind a tree and called out. "Jonah? Is that you?" He gripped his rifle tight. Who was the new guy? Was he dangerous? Why were they here? He heard Jonah's voice. Soft and clogged and scared-sounding. "Jess? J-Jess, where a-are you?" Jess peered around the bole of the tree. They were on the road, and Jonah was clinging to the tall black man for support. His face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes surrounded by deep bags. "Who is he?" Jess demanded. The black man was soaked in sweat, wearing a thin white t-shirt and dark denim pants. His thick muscular arms gleamed in the dim grey lights. He was holding the gun with both hands, pointing it at a 45 degree angle from his body, scanning the forest. "Jess? P-Please, what's h-happening? Are there c-c-crazies?" "Who is he!" Jess snarled. "Tell him to put the gun down, and I'll come out." --- "Please Thad... P-Please, it's Jess! He's m-m-my friend! H-He wont hurt y-y-you." Jonah's head ached dully. He felt like his brain was a drum, stretched tight and painful on a frame. Every word and noise was like someone tapping their fingers on the surface, sending painful vibrations. Every gunshot was like a sharp strike, making him want to crumple to the ground and weep. Thad's eyes were wild. He called out. "I'm putting down the gun. Jonah's sick, he needs the doctor, we can't waste time." His voice sounded forcibly calm. He bent his knees slowly, and put the gun on the pavement. He backed away a few steps into the center of the road. Jonah was leaning on him for support, and Thad's muscles were tensed and trembling. He was going against every instinct in his body to abandon his weapon. Jess loped out of the woods, his rifle on his shoulder. He looked from Jonah to Thad and scooped Thad's gun from the road in one fluid motion. Jonah was clinging to Thad's arm, looking lost and sick. Blood soaked his inner thighs, making them a dark maroon. Jess trained the rifle on Thad again, circling the pair of refugees. "What the fuck did you do to him?" Jess snarled. "It wasn't me, put that gun down before you hurt someone." Thad's voice was strained. "Please Jess..." Jonah whispered foggily. "Please... He saved my life." "Then how come it looks like he beat you half to death?" Jess's voice was shrill and angry. "That wasn't me!" Thad barked. "Put the fucking gun down, we need to see if we can help the others." Jonah clung harder to Thad's arm and whimpered. All of the shouting was making his head throb sickly. Like the meat of his brain were exposed and someone were drawing their fingertips across the crumbling surface. "Jess! It was Mark, okay!" It took every bit of his energy to shout that, and he went limp, with only Thad holding him up from the ground. Jess flinched, and suddenly his hands went loose on the rifle, his shoulders sagged, and the tip of the gun eventually pointed at the cracked asphalt of the road. Thad cradled the crying feverish boy in his arms. "He made me promise not to tell." Thad said in a low thick voice. He just needs to get better, and then we can go. A volley of gunshots from up the road, and a high feminine shriek of pain. Jess glared at Thad, not sure if he could trust the huge man. Then he saw how the semiconscious boy in his arms clung to him and buried his face into Thad's chest. Jess handed Thad the gun, butt first. "Let's go." --- The farmhouse was surrounded, not by crazies, but by humans. Jess could count ten. All ragged men, a few in bits and pieces of military apparel. They were all behind cover, trees, vehicles. They were shooting steadily at the windows of the house. Occasionally one would fire back. Jess saw a man stand up, wearing combat boots and an old green army jacket. He was scruffy and bearded. "Send out your women, each with a pack loaded with food. We know you have five! If you don't, we'll kill all of you!" He ducked down as soon as he finished his demand and a bullet ricocheted off of the tractor he was ducked behind. "Do it, or we'll set the fucking building on fire!" Thad set Jonah down a hundred yards away with both of the packs. Jonah looked weak and pale and he was coughing silently. Thad took his pistol, Jess took his rifle. They exchanged a few terse words, and then they split up. The man who had shouted the threat was the first to go. The rear attack was quick and unexpected and devastating. Jess shot two, the threatener and a large man with a ragged beard. The bearded man still ran, blood streaming from between the fingers clasping his wounded shoulder. Thad was far deadlier then Jess had anticipated. He had a short-range gun, but he charged into the field after his first shot. His arm was completely steady, and the bandits had not expected an attack from behind, so most were too surprised to fire back. These weren't killers. Jess had been hunting deer since he was a kid, and Thad was a trained police officer and a veteran. The bandits held their guns with clumsy hands and their eyes were filled with a frightened disbelief. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 03 Thad shot six times and four men fell, blood pooling in the dirt. He nicked another man and that one fled. Five of the men ran, and neither Thad nor Jess pursued. It was all over so fast. That was all battle was, a minute, a second of violence, and then this. Thad reloaded automatically as Jess walked up to him. The house was starting to stir, the windows opening and the doors unlocking. "I have to get Jonah, he's sick." Thad's voice was terse and low and forcibly polite. "I'm going to get him, can you tell your doctor to be ready?" "What about Mark?" Jess murmured, glaring at the farmhouse. "What are we going to do about him?" Thad let out a harsh sigh. "I'm not going to do anything. I'm going to get Jonah some medicine, and I want to leave as soon as we can. It's not safe for him here." The front door opened and David and Mark were there. Melvin and Vera and Davis trailed behind them. In the upper window, Jess could see one of the twins looking out. "Go get Jonah." Jess said softly. As Thad turned around, he called back to him. "None of us are safe here. Nowhere's safe." Thad just kept walking, his stomach churning, wondering how he and his frail lover would make it through the next few days. --- Jonah was slumped against the tree when he came back, barely conscious. His lips were moving, and his eyelids were flickering. When Thad shook his arm gently, Jonah moaned and covered his head with his arms, as if to ward off a blow. Thad took Jonah and held him like a baby in his thick arms. Jonah was muttering, not making any sense at all. "No... Don't w-wanna... I don't wanna go inside mom... I don't..." His forehead was dry, which worried Thad even more. Jonah's pants were covered in blood. Thad dug in the smaller pack and tore out a pair of jeans. Jonah wanted to keep everything a secret, and Jess already knew. Thad knew that it would be nearly impossible to keep the secret, but he had to try. Jonah moaned weakly as Thad worked off his bloody jeans and rolled them up tight to hide the bloodstains. Jonah's underwear was soaked red at the seat. Thad worked on the new jeans and picked up his sick little lover in his arms. Thad could see six people when he got there. An older man, a middle-aged black woman with a worried face, a burly man with thick bristly black hair. There was Jess, and then their were two muscular young men. Thad bristled. They looked like each other enough to be brothers, so one of them was David, and one of them was Mark. He was carrying a sick frightened boy right back to the man who had viciously raped and crippled him. They were watching him come closer. One of the brothers was stone-faced, and the other, the younger-looking one just looked confused. He looked.... stupid. His mouth gaping slightly and his eyes quizzical. Thad went right up to them, feeling his muscles clench. One of those brothers had crippled Jonah. As he got closer, the younger one stalked away, fists clenched. "My name is Thaddeus Weaver." He said. "Where is the Doctor?" --- In some sort of miracle, no one from the farmhouse had died. Bullets had shattered windows, and Jenna had taken several fragments of glass to her shoulder and the side of her face, but no one was seriously hurt. None of the glass shards had hit her ears or eyes, and the Doc had been removing them with tweezers when the huge new man came in with Jonah slumped across his arms. The Doc did what he could do. He tilted Jonah's sweat-soaked head and put aspirin and penicillin tablets in his dry mouth. Thad refused to leave Jonah's side. Everyone had questions, but for now they were put aside. Thad remained in the attic with Jonah, wiping his face with a cool cloth and trying to make him comfortable. David and Davis and Harold and Jess were dragging the bodies of the dead bandits to the ditch that they had dumped the crazies into. Melvin and Bert stood watch. Vera and Janet swept up broken glass, and Annette and Jenna tried to keep the kids busy, to keep them away from the blood and death outside. --- Mark was in the basement. He wasn't doing anything, wasn't even thinking. He was just sort of blank. Nothing like this had happened to him before. His luck, his monumental luck, it was gone. Mark looked down at his hands. Those hands had taken life before. Two humans, countless animals, and forty-six crazies. They could take another. The queer was sick... If he died, everyone would be sad... But they wouldn't blame him. They *couldn't* blame him. Mark's logic was tangled, but resolute. In his mind, he connected Jonah to his current state of worry. In his mind, if Jonah died, then everything would be back to normal. Mark laughed hollowly, and then he found that he couldn't stop. --- They were alone, and Thad was cleaning Jonah. The skinny dark-haired young man was full of medication, and sleeping like the dead. His forehead was cool and wet, and his breathing was easier then it had been in a long time. If Jonah wanted to keep his secret, they would have to trust Jess, and get out of here as fast as they could. Jonah was resting on his stomach with his pants around his knees. Thad was using a wet cloth to clean up all of the smeared dry blood. Jonah's ass was cute and perky, but Thad couldn't pay attention to that. Not when his cheeks were scratched and swollen and bruised and a delta of dried blood was cracking and peeling on his bruised inner thighs. Thad cleaned him up and pulled up some fresh underwear and the clean jeans. The soiled clothes were in a bundle that he had to clean at some point. Thad took the pie pan of water and threw it out onto the roof. The blood-tinged water rolled down the roof's surface and into the gutter, and a few seconds later a spurt of reddish water soaked into the loose gravel of the driveway from the drainpipe. Thad ladled more water from the bucket Vera had brought up into the pie pan. He brought a stool over to the edge of the bed and rested the pie pan on it. Then he pulled Jonah to the edge of the bed. He cradled Jonah's limp head in his hands and over the pie plate of water. He felt very protective. He cupped some water in his hand and trickled it into Jonah's sweat-soaked dark hair. Jonah stirred slightly, and smiled. Thad dribbled handfuls of water over Jonah's forehead and hair, murmuring for Jonah to close his eyes, turn his head. Sometimes he lowered the back of Jonah's head into the pie pan for a soaking. The water was cool, and the baptism felt good. "Thad?" Jonah whispered. His eyes were closed. His thin face had relaxed, and for the first time in days, he looked almost serene. "Yeah, Baby?" Thad murmured, stroking the side of Jonah's wet face. "Thank you... Thank you for everything. I feel a lot better now." His words were soft and small and dreamy. He was barely awake. "Your welcome Sugar." Thad murmured, dunking Jonah's head into the pie pan and pouring handfuls of water over his ears. He was careful with the left ear, still swollen and discolored from the blow to the head. He bent down and kissed Jonah on the forehead. Then he took the ragged towel and wrapped it around Jonah's head, ruffling his hair underneath until it was dry. Thad tucked his lover in and then took his soiled underwear and jeans to try and scrub the bloodstains out of them. It wouldn't be long until David came up here. David was smart, and wouldn't be fooled. Thad rubbed his temples with a short groan. The quicker that Jonah got better, and the quicker they could leave this madhouse, the sooner they would both be safer. Not safe, because nowhere was safe. Just safer. --- David came up with Vera, Jess, Janet, Annette and Ned. He needed to talk to the new man, Thad. The others just wanted to see how Jonah was doing. When they came up Thad was changing the cool cloths on Jonah's brow. He backed away and stood. "He's sleeping." Thad whispered. "He hasn't been able to sleep like this in a while, can we talk downstairs? "Sure we will." Vera whispered. The seven of them went down the narrow stairs, but Thad didn't follow them even further. He lingered at the base of the attic stairs, he didn't want the attic to be unprotected. Not with the Rapist here. He sat at the base of the stairs. The rest circled him. Janet and Ned looked at him with unbridled goodwill. To them, Thad was a hero. He had driven away the bandits and brought back Jonah. Annette and Vera were more worried. They had suspected foul play when Jonah left, and now they had a new suspect. They didn't know what to think. Jess didn't know how much to trust the big policeman, and David's face was expressionless and unreadable. "My name is David." He said in a low calm voice. "What happened?" Thad had thought about what he was going to say. The simplest lies were the best. Simple lies that were mostly truth. He looked up at David, not breaking eye contact. Did you know? Thad wondered. Did you know that your brother was raping and beating my Jonah? "When shit started happening, I was working in downtown Minneapolis. For a while, things were crazy. Policemen were some of the first to go, we were called to the isolated incidents, the first crazies, before we knew about infection risk. Someone must have been watching over me. After half of the force had taken to the hospital and shit started getting on the news, I decided to head up north to check on my dad." "My dad was the only one still alive in my family. He had diabetes and was in a hospice. When I got to Bemidji, the infection was just starting, but my dad was too sick to move. I got his old airstream and we were going to go to his cabin up in Brainerd. When I stopped to pick him up one of the patients there had gotten infected somehow, and my dad was killed, and the place was filled with injured and infected. I tried to stop at a grocery store to stock up and it was madness. Everyone was just taking things off the shelves. Some people were in the last stages of the infection, and a couple had succumbed." "I ran in, stole some food, and ran out. I'm still surprised I made it out of the city. For a while I drove around to the smaller towns, looking for food. I ran into blockades where the military shot first and asked questions later." David shifted slightly. His eyes flickered. "I found an abandoned house. After awhile, you just started stealing stuff. They had a nice pantry, and I was able to take a lot of food. I only had about a gallon of gas left, and I had found this little remnant of a dirt road. I went down it and covered the entrance with debris and old branches. I hid in the woods for several weeks, I waited for things to calm down. I waited for the military to arrive, or for a vaccine to be prepared, but none of those happened." "I did take a few hiking trips in the other direction during that time. Scavenging for food and books and supplies in the local houses mostly. I tried to find news. For a while I had a wind-up radio that I used to pick up broadcasts, but it broke. The last broadcast I heard was some preacher talking about how we had brought this all upon ourselves by living in sin." Thad looked around at the six of them. Most of them had similar stories. "Anyway... two days ago and I had gone outside to boil some new water. I had stored all of the jugs in the trailer and was just going to put out the ashes. I heard noises, branches snapping. It was all coming from one place, so I moved in, carefully." "I saw one of the diseased. A young man in a sheepskin jacket. It's hands were..." Thad paused and looked at Ned. The six-year-old boy looked thin and pale. "It's hands were in pretty bad shape from trying to climb the tree. I looked up and I could see Jonah. I shot the monster and Jonah climbed down and I brought him to the trailer. He had been up in the tree all that night and for most of the day. He had left his blanket at the bottom of the tree when he climbed, so he had spent the night in the cold. That's why he's so sick." Here came the lie, hopefully it sounded genuine. "He wouldn't tell me where he came from or why he left. He was very feverish and he spent most of the day sleeping. I thought he was going to die, but after a while he started talking about a doctor in his delirium. He was pretty lucid this morning and when I asked him about a doctor he told me that you had a paramedic here. I brought him over, and I hoped that you all would be willing to take care of him." Thad looked up at David. "You seem to be running a pretty tight ship here. You have guns, you have a house, you have a doctor, and none of you look like you're starving. I can smell someone making potato soup right now. Any idea why Jonah would want to leave?" David's eyes glittered. They were all looking at him, cautious, wary, worried. He was a wild card, and no one knew how to treat him. "I was hoping you could tell me." David muttered softly. "So when Jonah gets better, what do you plan on doing?" Thad glanced at all of them. "I think it would be best if we left. If we can, I would like to be able to take some food and some seed, but if not we'll find it ourselves. Jonah hasn't told me why he left, but I know that he does not want to stay." Janet burst out. "Why? Why does Jonah want to go with you? You've only known him for two days! I'm his friend!!" She was crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "You can talk with him if you want to." Thad said stiffly. "I want to thank you all for your hospitality, and your protection, but if you don't have any more questions I would like to go upstairs. It's been a hard day." David nodded and was already leaving, his brow furrowed. Annette walked up to him. "Would you like me to bring you up some extra bedding?" The rest were still lingering in the hallway, not wanting to leave so soon. "No." Thad said quietly. "I'll sleep with Jonah." Annette's eyebrows flew up and her mouth puckered into a silent 'oh!' of comprehension. She flushed and walked away. --- Dinner that night was quiet and strained. Everyone was at the table except for Melvin and the Doc on watch duty and Jonah and Thad in the attic. Jonah was still sleeping, but Thad had promised to wake him up to make sure he got dinner. David stood up in the middle of the meal. Everyone instantly turned in his direction. David was a natural leader, he drew their attention like flowers to the sun. "Today has been a big day." He said quietly. "A lot of things have happened, and I know that you're all worried. First things first, I want to thank all of you. A lot of things could have gone wrong today, but you all followed orders, and no one was badly hurt. I want to congratulate all of you for that, you all performed better then I could have dreamed." David was a genius like this, softening their reservation with flattery. "Five of the bandits are still out there, so from now on I want adults to be armed at all times and I want all of the kids to stay indoors if at all possible. That includes you Stacey. Don't go out alone. The watchers will have road flares at night, and if they hear gunshots or anything suspicious they will put one off. A flare might attract crazies, but there are fewer of them now, and we need to be able to see what we're doing." "As you all know, Jonah is back." Everyone leaned forward. People were curious. They wanted to know what was going on. "Jonah has not said why he ran away, but he wants to stay away. Thaddeus Weaver brought him back because he was sick, and Thaddeus Weaver will take him away as soon as he is better. Jonah is recovering swiftly, and I haven't spoken to him yet, but he's full grown and it is his decision if he wants to stay or go." Harold interrupted. "Who is that guy with him? How can we trust him? How do we know that they aren't just gonna come back and rob us? I don't trust him!" Janet was almost trembling with rage and disgust. She was unsure about how to feel towards Thad, but she knew how much she despised Harold. "Why don't you just shut your fat mouth! He saved Jonah's life, and I trust him!! You have absolutely no reason to think anything bad about him!" Harold flushed. "Don't talk to me like that! How do we even know he's not gonna sneak into the girls room and rape them!" Janet stood up, ready to scream at him, but David cut in. "Both of you calm down. I'm keeping an eye on both of them, and Harold, don't forget that it's Thad that saved our asses in the first place." Mark grunted and spoke for the first time. "Sides... the big one is a faggot, too." It was perfectly quiet at the table. No one spoke a word. Mark looked around at all of them, his eyes small and piggish and wary. Thad wasn't the only wild card in the farm house. The silence was thick with secrets and fear. Jess glanced at David, and he was the only one who caught it. Everyone else was looking at Mark, but Jess looked at David and saw the older brother's face twist into a look of solid loathing before slipping back into neutrality. "Yes." David continued. His voice expressionless. "Don't use that word Mark, we're all polite here, right?" Mark looked at David, confused and surprised. "So they'll both be staying until Jonah feels better, and then the'll move out to Thad's trailer." "On a final note... When it's light tomorrow, I want to erect some better defenses. A roadblock on the dirt road that leads here, tripwires in the forest. We can hang twine and old cans over the roads and between some of the trees. Those will alert us if there are any crazies or looters. That's all for now." It was quiet again, except for the scraping of utensils. David was quiet and polite, but he didn't look at his younger brother once. --- It was dark outside, and the attic was lit by a single fat white candle, guttering low in a pool of molten wax. Thad used his piece of homemade bread to sop up the last of his potato soup. He took a drink of tropical punch (from drink powder) and finished the bread. The dinner was simple and plain, and absolutely delicious. The bread especially, it had been so long since Thad had eaten anything fresh. Jonah stirred. His forehead was still warm. He smiled at Thad. He still looked pale and weak, but so much healthier. He started to sit up, but Thad put a hand on his chest. "Don't strain yourself honey... The Doc says you need to rest. Just rest as much as you need, I'll sit you up." Thad propped him up on the load of soft pillows. Jonah looked small surrounded by the heavy comforters. Thad took the bowl of soup and rested it on Jonah's lap. "Thank you Thad." Jonah whispered. He started spooning the potato soup into his mouth, and Thad was gratified by how hungry Jonah looked. His appetite was back, perhaps they would be able to leave sooner then he anticipated. "Here, Doc left you your next dose of penicillin." When Jonah finished his meal, Thad cleared away the dishes and lowered Jonah down to the bed, tucking in the comforter. He could hear David talking through the floorboards, but not what he was saying. "Thad?" Jonah murmured. "Do you wanna come to bed?" Thaddeus Weaver set down the dishes and stripped out of his leather coat and shirt, revealing his muscular chest and back. He slid out of his jeans and socks, but left on his tight briefs. He slid under the comforter behind Jonah, and gathered in his boy's skinny body to his chest. He could hear the soft aroused gasp that puffed from Jonah's lips. Thad moved the soft fringe of dark hair from the back of Jonah's neck so he could press his lips against the warm smooth skin. He draped one arm over Jonah's chest, snaking his hand up under his t-shirt to feel the softness of his chest, the silky softness of his tiny nipples. "You look a lot better now." Thad murmured. "I'm glad. The last few days have been really hectic and I'm happy that I met you. I thought I would be alone forever." Alone at the End of the World Ch. 03 Jonah moaned softly as Thad sucked on the side of his neck and started to caress one tiny nipple with his fingertips. Jonah's nipples were tiny and hard, barely any aureola surrounding a little rock-hard bud. They were just a shade darker then his skin, and surrounded by a patch of short invisible peach-fuzz about the size of a nickel. "Wh-Why did you think that?" Jonah stammered, yielding into Thad's strong embrace. "O-Other gay men had t-to survive, right?" Thad rubbed his cheek against Jonah's silky dark hair. He could smell the soap he had used, and the hair was clean and soft. "Yes... But that didn't mean that they would be nearby, or close to my age, or that they would be someone I could be with. You're one in a million, Jonah." A small gasp escaped Jonah's full cracked lips as Thad's hand finished caressing his sensitive nipples and started moving smoothly down his chest and stomach. He could feel Thad's arousal against the small of his back. Jonah was weak with fever, and he melted into Thad's arms. He forgot about the rapist in the house, forgot about the crazies, forgot about his dead family, and forgot about the end of the world. There was nothing but Thad, and him. Nothing but his hot gentle hands and wet caressing mouth. Jonah's body was so small in Thad's hands. Thad flicked his fingertips over those tiny pink nipples, and pinched the delicate peaks they formed. Jonah's chest was so slim and flat and smooth. He could feel the gentle valleys of Jonah's rib cage as he stroked his boy's body. He felt the vulnerable flats of Jonah's stomach, his fingertips whispering over the thin dark treasure trail that led under the loose waistband of those faded old jeans... The jeans had belonged to a man ten years older and fifty pounds heavier then Jonah. They fit only because of a tightly cinched brown belt. Thad deftly unbuckled the belt with one searching hand. With the other hand, he cradled Jonah's head, tilting Jonah so that their mouths could meet, hot and wet and earnest. With the belt unclasped, Thad's huge dark hand slid easily under the hard cloth seam along Jonah's smooth hot flesh. His hand clasped over Jonah's semi-turgid cock in a smooth grasping motion, covering up almost the entire organ with just his hand. Jonah mewed earnestly, shivering and humping his hips. He grasped Thad's thick dark wrist with one small pale hand, and the other arm he used to cradle Thad's head closer, to be able to delve deeper into his lover's mouth with his questing tongue. Thad groaned, and moved his hips slowly, grinding his hard cock into Jonah's buttocks through his underwear. Thad moved his hand up to Jonah's mouth again, letting the boy taste his own precome, suckling at the older man's fingertips like a baby. "That's it baby... That's it..." Jonah wriggled his jeans and underwear down, and Thad took a handful of Jonah's sweet throbbing cock after yanking down his own underwear. Jonah moaned, but didn't struggle. He trusted Thad. Trusted Thad with his life. Thad nudged his thick manhood between Jonah's slender thighs, spitting on his hand and reaching down to slick up his cock and Jonah's inner legs. "Squeeze together baby." Thad murmured, gently biting Jonah's lower lip. Jonah squeezed his thighs together, and his lover groaned and started to thrust shallowly, fucking the rift between his legs. Thad stroked his cock at the same tempo, making Jonah whimper loudly with pleasure. Thad stopped kissing Jonah, and lowered his head to nibble on the side of the boy's pristine neck. Jonah tasted sweet and fresh and young. He tasted new. Jonah mewed at the sinfully good sensations of Thad biting him, of Thad's thick cock fucking him (though vicariously) of Thad's hot rough fingers on his sensitive cock. "Thad! Oh God, Thad!" He couldn't hold back anymore, he threw back his head onto Thad's shoulder and came with a muffled cry of excitement. Thad felt his hand become slick with hot creamy spunk. Thad reached down for Jonah's slim thigh, and pressed down, increasing the pressure. He fucked hard, and looked down to see the dark head of his cock emerging from between his lover's thighs, under the tender fuzzy scrotum and softening cock. Jonah watched, gasping for air, as Thad's cock spasmed, slicking his legs with feverishly hot come. Jonah reached down and rubbed the hot fluid into his skin. He wanted Thad to be part of him, all over his skin and inside his mouth and sunk into his eyes. Thad kissed the soft clean fringe of hair at the back of his neck. Jonah was sleepy and feverish, already unconscious. He smoothed Jonah's hair, and eventually went to sleep, but not until he was facing the door, sleeping on his back. He was always barely asleep when he slept on his back. He wanted to be ready for anything, or anyone, that could happen in the night. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 04 *Phew! Story line done! I am never going to do that again. I will close off Tenderness and New World before I dare start another, I have learned my lesson, I promise. This, I can safely say, is my darkest story line, and apparently, you like the dark, so all I can hope is that you will appreciate the way I tie things up. PS, I wrote the last third of the story listening to the INCEPTION soundtrack... I believe it helped. ^_^ All characters are 18+* * Good and Evil. They are words. And words have little meaning at the End of the World. --- A smaller and more desperate camp was being held by the five men that remained of the raiding party. Two of them were wounded, one with a grazed leg and one with a shattered shoulderblade. Among them, a Wal-Mart manager, a college student, a mailman, a high school teacher, and a bus driver. Desperate men, not Evil. And desperate men can be persuaded to do terrible, incredible things. The teacher with the broken shoulder had finally stopped bleeding, but hadn't woken up either. The mailman with the grazed leg was whimpering with the pain of it, tying a clumsy bandage made with his own sleeve. "Why did we do that?" The wounded man moaned. "Why the fuck did we do that?" He whimpered as he tugged the bandage shut. "We never should have listened to Calvin, he was insane!" The college student was pacing the fire. They had a single tent, but it was an unseasonably cold night, so they all circled the fire. He was twitching. He did that when he was excited or angry. "Yeah, that fuck had us attack the place in broad fucking daylight. We don't have the manpower for a fuckin siege. I'm glad that motherfucker got his brains blown out, they weren't any use to him alive!" The bus driver was a timid older man. The manager was a heavy latino man with wet frightened eyes. The student was a twitchy burly overgrown boy with a wispy mustache and bad acne. The mailman was a tall gaunt man who twisted his wedding ring with worry. The teacher was a heavy bearded man who carried photos of his children and his wife in his wallet, and had rubbed them nearly invisible with his big fingers. These men weren't Evil, just capable of it. The mailman scoffed. He was normally a quiet man, but pain and despair made him bold. "You stupid kid! He was an idiot because he attacked them at all! He stood there like a fucking bandit, asking for women! Threatening to burn down the house! I bet if we had gone up like civilized men, they might have given us some food! Instead I got a bullet in my leg and he's dead, and we're still starving! We should just move on, we can find something in the next town." The kid stopped pacing. He glared at the mailman. "Fuck you." Not loud, not angry, just contemptuous. "You can't get it through your thick skull can you, it's the end of the fucking world, and you just don't want to live. It's us, or them. We're gonna attack again, and this time we're gonna be smarter..." The bus driver stood. He had a heavy white mustache, and thick forearms and scarred knuckles. "Please, let's just be civil here, there's no need for fighting..." "Fuck you old man." The kid spat and the wad of crud landed right on the bus driver's scuffed black loafers. Something had changed. The body language of the group had changed. The manager and the bus driver were suddenly in the background, hesitant, watching. The kid was standing over the mailman, fists clenched, staring down at him. They were animals, and this was a show of dominance. They might have been wearing clothes, they might have had jobs and families and lives, but at the end of the world, they were wolves on two legs. The boy was a violent lean upstart, he frightened the others with his raw vitality. He was a leader. Perhaps not a good one, perhaps a horrible one, but he was a leader, and only one of them had the gumption to argue with him. "We're not going back you dumb shit!" The mailman spat, looking up at the kid. His voice was snarling and loud and dominant, but his eyes were getting wider and wider. The college boy was just looking down at him, smiling like it was a joke. All of them had lost weight, but the kid still had the networks of muscle that had made him huge. Even after weeks of near-starvation, he weighed nearly two hundred pounds, nothing but muscles and bone and sinew and grit and ambition. "So what are you gonna do? You gonna walk to the next town? We're out of gas, and the next place is forty miles away. We are going to collapse without food. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. They are standing on a stockpile of exactly what we need, and if we're smart, we can get what we need." The mailman looked at the bus driver, the manager, looking for backing, for allies. They stared back with timid follower's stares. On his sleeping bag, the wounded teacher groaned, blood oozing from his mouth. "For fuck's sake!" The mailman snarled. His voice rose to a shout, an appeal. "We are human beings! We can't just attack, and take. You can't... you can't..." He looked up at the kid and rose to his feet, shaking and pale-faced from the pain. "You little fucking punk!" He bellowed. "You think this is a fucking game. You think you can just--" It was so quick, so unexpected. A woman crashed from the treeline. An older slender woman. A woman with a regal neck and a slender body dressed elegantly in a silk blouse and dark slacks. Her carefully upkept curls were bedraggled and bloodstained, filled with twigs and leaves. A flap of her scalp nearly hid her left ear. Her eyes were twitching and crazed, the right one filled to the brim with blood. Her mouth was a twisted stroke-victim sneer. Her mouth and swan-neck were tacky with blood. Her blouse was torn, and one flat sagging breast flopped as she ran on torn bleeding feet. The men got up, galvanized with terror, but she ran past them and swooped to her knees, silent and almost graceful. Then she bent down and took the eyebrow of the unconscious teacher between her teeth and tore away a chunk of flesh as big as a pack of cards. The teacher started to writhe and scream. He begged for help from his fellows, who were frozen in place. The woman sank a claw-like hand into his face, and her first two fingers popped the agonized blue orb of the man's left eye. Popped it in a flow of viscous fluid, and blood. He screamed in a high weak voice like a woman. He beat weakly at the woman's body and head with his working arm. She bent down, spitting out the piece of flesh. She lapped up the clear fluid leaking from the socket, like a dog, before sinking her teeth into his cheek to tear away another piece. A single gunshot rang out and the woman flopped down on the teacher, growling incoherently around the blood that gushed from her sneering mouth and broken teeth. The bullet went through the middle of her back, exited from her ribcage and entered the stomach of the teacher. The man wailed and thrashed weakly with agony, blood streamed from his eye. "Shut him up!" The mailman whimpered, cowering by the side of the fire with the others. The manager was swaying, near fainting. The bus driver was gibbering what sounded like a prayer, clasping the saint's medal he wore around his neck. The college student stood, the gun handle warm and heavy clasped in his cold hand. He stood, the gun still aimed at the limp crazy and the agonized man. "He's infected, fucking kill him already." The mailman shrieked. The college student fired another round, and this one missed, hitting the teacher in the thigh. His hand was shaking badly. The teacher thrashed and groaned, blood bubbled through his lips and into his beard. He begged them weakly to stop as he flopped and screamed under the woman like a dying fish. It was obscene. It was disgusting. The college student was crying, tears streaming down his face. He shot again, and this bullet thankfully caved in the teacher's temple. It was finally quiet, except for the crackling fire, and amorous frogs singing throaty love songs in the marsh. The college student turned the gun on his fellows. "We're going. We're gonna get food from those selfish motherfuckers in the farmhouse. After that, you all can go fuck yourselves and die for all I care." His hand was shaking visibly. His face was so pale, the acne scars and red pimples standing out like battle scars. His eyes were crazed. His mind broken. The three men followed him, and they planned. Eventually, he stopped shaking, he didn't threaten them. He spoke in a quiet civil voice. But he was in charge, and the rest had subdued themselves. It was easy to follow. It was suicide to resist. These men were weak, frightened, human. But they weren't Evil. How could they be? Evil is just a word. --- Thad woke up with Jonah thrashing weakly in his arms. His tiny body was soaked in sweat and burning with fever. He twisted from side to side, moaning. Thad shook him gently awake, and Jonah smiled at him. "Hey." Jonah whispered. "Hey." Thad murmured. "How are you feeling Honey?" "Not so good..." Jonah whispered. "Not as bad as before, but I feel awful." Thad's heart sunk. They wouldn't be able to leave as soon as he had hoped. He put on a brave face and kissed both of Jonah's eyelids. "Don't worry Honey... Some more medicine, and you'll feel right as rain. I'm gonna go find the Doc, see if he has your next dose of pills..." Jonah's hand gripped Thad's arm with surprising strength. He looked down at the pale fingers sinking into the darkness of his muscular forearm. "Don't leave me." Jonah whispered. His eyes were so wide that Thad could see the whites all around. He was shaking. He clung to Thad's neck, pulling his torso above the blankets, burying his face into his lover's neck. "Please don't leave me." He whimpered. Thad gently unclasped those arms and embraced the frightened boy. "I wont Love, I wont. Shh... Sh.." Thad rested, holding the feverish boy close to him. --- Ben slept with his eyes shut tight and his body curled into a frightened ball all night long, but Mark never came. Mark was lucky, but he also possessed an animal cunning. He knew that he had to lay low. He just slept in the bunk with his brother, eyes open, and thinking. He was facing the wall, so he never saw how David glared at him. David stared intensely at the back of his brother's head until he fell asleep. --- Jess and Annette were taking the morning watch. Annette told the hunter that she wanted to leave, that it was no longer safe. The young lanky man looked shocked. "But..." He whispered, staring at the orange horizon. A low cloud looked like a fluffy towel dipped in blood. "I need to go, it's not safe here. Mark is crazy, and he's acting even more fucked up now that Jonah is back. I think that Mark had something to do with him leaving. He's like a rabid dog, and no one will put him down. I need to take care of my family... I'll be okay." No one looked convinced, least of all, Annette. Jess's voice was ragged. "Annie... Please. Please don't go." Annette looked at him sharply. They were both sitting in the lawn chairs. Her rifle was resting against one knee and his was leaning against the chair. He was looking at her, his soft sandy hair surrounding his handsome square face. He had rough stubble on his chin and cheeks, his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and his blue eyes were wet and lost-looking. He leaned closer. She could see what he was trying to do, but was powerless to stop him. He reached out and cupped the back of her head, pulled her gently into a soft kiss. They sat there, framed by the sunrise as their lips touched with shy resounding warmth. "Please... Please don't go Annie." Jess whispered. The sun continued to rise, unhindered by the unwatchable movements and unhinged lives and unbearable love that it sustained. --- Thad looked up when he heard a soft knock on the door at the base of the steep attic stairs. Jess came up the stairs. He wore his brown leather jacket, a faded blue shirt and bluejeans with frayed cuffs. His scuffed leather boots came to slight points under the sprays of white threads spilling from the worn cuffs. His hands were in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Jonah. Thad sat up from when he had been hugging the frail boy. While he sat up, he covered Jonah's body with the blanket and positioned himself in front of his lover. The movement was so protective, so hostile that Jess took a step back. Jess saw that Jonah's clothes had been rumpled and unfastened. Thad was only clothed in his underwear. His body was huge and capable of violence. The same mistrust flashed between them. Jonah sat up and clung to Thad's shoulders gently from behind, resting his cheek on Thad's arm. "I just wanted to talk to Jonah." Thad tensed slightly. He turned to look at Jonah. Jonah whispered into his ear. "It's okay Thad." Thad stood up, smoothly pulling his jeans up and buttoning them. Jonah was straightening his own clothes. Thad leaned in and kissed Jonah on the top of the head. "I'll be right outside on the stairs Baby." "Kay." Jonah whispered, reaching out to brush his fingers against Thad's arm as his lover left the room. Thad had the pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. The door closed. Jonah patted a spot on the bed. Jess sat down, looking unsure where to start. "Thad... Is he treating you okay? I didn't think... that you two were, um... together. Not when you were sick anyway." "Don't worry Jess, he didn't hurt me. I... I needed him last night." Both Jess and Jonah flushed slightly. "I dunno... I just don't trust him. I'm worried about you." Jess hung his head. "I didn't take care of you like I should have before. I guess I'm just over-compensating." Jess covered his face with one hand. Jonah tentatively put his hand on Jess's shoulder. "I don't blame you." He whispered. "I was trying as hard as I could to keep a secret. I'm very good at keeping secrets." Jess conceded a tiny smile and ruffled Jonah's hair. "How are you feeling?" Jonah shrugged. "Kinda sick. Better then before, I'm lucid, but I still have a headache, and I'm kinda cold. Thad wants to get out of here as soon as I'm better." Jess glared at the door. "I'm not sure. I just get the feeling that he really doesn't like me. And, he's so huge. He could really hurt you if he wanted to. Or even on accident." Jonah's voice was very dry. "Well, you did train a gun on him and accuse him of beating and raping me. That's not very endearing. And he is big, but he has never hurt me." Jonah chuckled a little. "Also... He's kind of jealous." Jess looked up, startled. "What do you mean?" Jonah giggled again. "Well, he just is. He knows that you used to protect me. Even if you're straight, that's his job now. He's a little jealous." Jess frowned. "I didn't protect you. Mark was hurting you every night, and I didn't even notice. I just thought that he was harassing you." Jonah leaned a little closer. "You did protect me. You always kept watch with me so that Mark couldn't. You took me away from the camp a lot. I was getting so stressed, but whenever I got too upset, you'd whisk me away on a fishing trip, or a load of laundry." Jess shook his head. Not refusing, but hesitant. "I wanted to ask you two something. Call Thad back in?" "Thad?" Jonah called hoarsely. "Thad, come in here." Thad came in, sleek and graceful as a panther. He had the small orange bottle in his hand. "Doc was passing by, I got him to get me the next dose. What's up?" Thad dipped the plastic mug into the bucket of water and handed it to Jonah. Jonah held out his hand for the two white pills. He swallowed them with a gulp of water. Thad slid into a tight grey shirt from his backpack. It outlined his powerful chest in a way that made Jonah shiver. Jess looked up at Thad in all seriousness. His mouth was a grim line. I've been talking to Annette, and she wants to leave, too. She doesn't trust Mark, and she wants to get her sister and her son away from him." "We want to come with you." Thad was quiet, deep in thought. He sat down on the other side of Jonah, and took the boy's hand in his own. "What is David going to say when his recruits start to leave? You four aren't the only ones that want to get the hell out of here. If you four leave the others will try to leave as well." Jess's face was hard. "We can help you. If we leave with you, we'll be more likely to get food and seed. Don't just refuse us because you're scared of David." Jonah felt Thad tense up. "I'm just stating the facts. If you come with us, we could start a conflict, and you need to be ready for that. This whole place is ready to blow. It needs to change, but we need to be able to change without anyone getting hurt." Thad was thoughtful for a moment. Jess sighed. "We need to go to David. He's reasonable. He will listen to reason. Maybe we could even tell him what Mark did, and may--" "NO!" Jonah gasped. "No Jess. No one is going to know, ever." Jess growled under his breath. "Fine... But we need to think this through." "Our shelter is too small. It was a three-man trailer, and it's pretty cramped with just me and Jonah as is. It can work, but privacy will be a joke." "I don't care." Jess answered. "We just need to leave. I need to get Annette out of here, I love her." He shook his head. Janet is going to have a hard time leaving, she and the Doc have been getting close. Thad glared over Jonah at Jess. "We can't bring half of the people here. We'll barely fit if it's just five people. What about their possessions? Or any of the seeds or tools we bring? The trailer is a tin can, and you're trying to make it the same as this house." Jess put his head in his hands. "I don't know the answer Thad. All I know is that we have a problem." "Yeah." Jonah whispered moodily, surprising them both. --- Annette and Janet were doing laundry. Ned tagged along with them. In the aftermath of the attack on the farmhouse, they had to bring a shooter with them. Unfortunately, it was Harold. They had tried. Mark was not an option for either of them, he creeped them both out. Melvin and the Doc were on watch, David was supervising Bert and Davis as they dug irrigation ditches. Jonah was sick, Thad was guarding him, and Jess was nowhere to be found. Ned was playing in a patch of sandy dirt on the bank of the stream. It was almost like a beach, and he was trying to get the moist dirt to make a castle without crumbling. His 'castle' looked like a termite mound, but he was having fun anyway. A lot more fun then his mother and aunt, that was for certain. Janet was silently fuming, alternating between putting her sweatshirt on so he would stop looking at her chest and the way the sweaty tank top clung to her, and tying it around her waist so he wouldn't ogle her ass. Annette was quieter, but still uneasy under his filthy gaze. She was deep in thought. Elbows-deep in the river, scrubbing a load of mixed shirts with the last of the soap that Jonah had cobbled together from animal fat and ash. It was so fast. A young man with an acne-scarred face leapt from the bushes behind Harold, and driving the long serrated blade of a hunting knife deep into Harold's neck. Harold let out a single wretched squeal as the knife tore out of him, leaving a huge gash that gushed with scarlet. One sick liquid gush, and then drips and splatters. Harold fell on his face, twitching and spasming and silent, surrounded by an unreal pool that shone darkly in the bright midday sun. An aging man with wispy white hair combed over his balding scalp darted from the woods and snatched the stunned little boy with dirt all over his hands. He yanked Ned's arms behind his back and used duct tape to immobilize the boy. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 04 Annette ran to her son. Janet cowered in the shallow muddy water, screaming. A heavy latino man ran from the bushes and grabbed her arm, threatening her with a pistol. She grabbed at it, but by then the college boy got up to her and threw her to the ground with a vicious blow to the side of the head. Annette fell, unhurt but unbalanced. Her hair was streaked with Harold's blood from the college boy's hand. The mailman limped from the woods, aiming a gun at Janet, bellowing at her to hold still. When the three were all duct-taped and kneeling in a row, the college boy whooped once and went to wash the blood off of his hands. He walked boldly up to the mailman and hissed in his face. "Y'see? You dumb hick, we'll be eating by this afternoon. If we had listened to you, we'd be starving and halfway to nowhere." The mailman crossed his arms and scowled, grumbling something under his breath. Unaware of how submissive his posture was. The college boy glanced at the three of them. His eyes roved over Janet's body. He was twitchier then ever. He licked his lips. "Might as well... We're gonna be good boys... Give them their women and brat when they give us the food. We should get it while it's hot, right?" He yodeled some high shrieking laughter. Janet whimpered and leaned into her sister. The duct tape across her mouth went around her entire head twice, no chance of letting it go. She was twisting her wrists, but the duct tape was thick and double-wrapped there as well. Annette tried to comfort her sister, tucking Janet's head under her chin. Ned was crying and leaning into her side. They all depended on her, but she couldn't help any of them. The mailman slouched up, his face pasty and nearly grey from the pain. "No. No you little fuckwad. We are human beings. We are not going to rape these girls. You fucking animal." He glared at the others. "Why aren't you trying to challenge him? Don't you see what he's trying to do to these girls?" The bus driver looked down at his shoes, crossing his arms across his chest. The manager did the same, but not before glancing at the sisters. Across the clearing, Harold stopped twitching. "I wont let you." The mailman snarled, shaking his head. "I wont--" The collage boy swung his arm with the handle of the knife sticking from his clenched fist. He struck the mailman across the jaw with the exposed knife butt. The mailman fell like a sack of potatoes, letting out horrible womanlike screams of pain, clutching his broken jaw. Ned screamed through the duct tape. Janet groaned in terror. Annette just watched with shiny horrified eyes. The college boy stood over the bleeding screaming man. The bus driver took three limping steps away and retched into the undergrowth. The college boy looked down, licking his lips. "You're so fucking useless. The college boy whispered. "You're either with us, or against us." He knelt. Janet screamed. He slashed the knife quick across the mailman's throat, opening up a thin red line in comparison to Harold's ragged gash. Blood still gushed from the thin red wound, but the mailman had time to shriek and gurgle for about thirty seconds, writhing around and churning the dirt to a bloody mud. The college boy looked at his two followers. "Anyone else have a problem with me taking what I deserve?" The bus driver didn't answer, cowering in the bushes, wiping his mouth. The manager shook his head vigorously. The college boy dragged Janet away from the others by her upper arm. Annette screamed and struggled, flopping on her side like a worm. Ned cowered into a little ball, tears streaming down his flushed and sunburned cheeks. Janet screamed and bucked and struggled, but the college boy pinned her down. The tape bound her at her ankles and wrists as well as the swatch across her mouth. The college boy tore off her tank top and unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down to her knees. He pulled down his pants, but his penis was limp in the thick greasy patch of pubic hair. He pressed his limp cock against her crotch, but he couldn't get hard. He swore and tried to grope her bare breasts, but he didn't get hard. After about a minute, he swore and gave up, pulling up his pants and leaving her on the ground to curl up on her side and weep, trying to hide herself from the sun and the eyes of her family. The manager edged up, his eyes were shiny. Janet began to wail. He knelt clumsily over her, and she managed to curl her knees to her chest and lunge out with a single well placed kick. The points of both of her callused feet (the toenails still decorated with chips of purple nail polish from BEFORE) hit something soft and vulnerable under the once-rounded stomach. The manager fell to his side, letting out a shrill squawk of agony, cupping his crotch in both hands. He hadn't fallen far away. Janet curled her legs to her chest again and let out another full-body kick that hit him in the cheek and forehead. Her heel connected with slightly less force to his eye. He rolled away, snarling and sobbing with pain. Janet squirmed. She rolled over to where the manager had dropped his pistol. All three of the men were running for her, but too far away. She rolled on her stomach with the pistol held clumsily in her duct-taped fingers. She made sure that the barrel was pointing away from Annette and Ned, and she fired as many times as she could. She couldn't hope to aim, to kill her kidnappers. But she still shot nine rounds into the trees, and the echoes carried for miles. --- Nine shots echoed in the distance, and it galvanized the entire farm. Everyone was in the farmyard in less then a minute. Even Jonah, leaning on Thad's arm for support. Even Mark, leaning dead-eyed against a tree. "We have to go." David said curtly. "But we have to defend this place. It could be survivors, it could be the bandits trying to trick us. But that's also where the river is, and Annette, Janet, Harold and Ned left to do laundry about an hour ago. The women and kids should stay here. Mark, Davis, Jess, and Thad will come with me. Everyone else stay here, everyone but the kids have a gun, and stay on the roof or by the windows. We leave in two minutes, so get ready." The Doc was arguing with David. Thad lead Jonah up to the attic. He expected Jonah to protest, to argue, but Jonah was quiet. Despite his silence, the young man was clinging to his arm with though force to leave marks. "Be careful, bring them home." Jonah whispered, clinging to Thad's arm. Jonah hugged him fiercely tight. "Watch him, watch Mark... I don't know if he's going to do anything." Thad wrapped his arms around Jonah's waist, hefting him into the air in a bear hug. Jonah's feet dangled. "I'll come back Jonah. I wont let anything happen to you, or anyone else." Thad kissed the side of his head and set Jonah down on the bed, covering his lover in blankets. Jonah watched him leave, tears streaming down his face. Thad came down, his pistol shoved into the back of his pants and one of the rifles cradled in his arms. He had a light pack with water and ammo in it. The Doc was standing among the group, holding a rifle and looking scared, but determined. He saw Thad glancing at him. "Janet's out there. I'm not just going to wait around here!" His voice was defensive, and afraid. Sweat gleamed between the thinning strands of hair on his temples. "Hey, just keep your head." Thad murmured. "We're gonna get them back." They headed into the woods, Mark in the lead and Jess trailing behind. Thad hoped so. --- Janet wasn't screaming anymore. Annette curled her body around the body of her son. Tears streamed down her face, and she was having a hard time breathing. Her mouth was covered, and her nose was clogged with crying. Snot ran in clear streams over the duct tape on her mouth. Janet was still naked, dressed only in the jeans crumpled around her taped ankles. The college boy had beaten her. Trails of tacky blood blotched her chest and side and thigh and face like bizarre war paint. The manager had kicked her too, the minute he could stand. The bus driver cowered in the background, his eyes pale and weak and old. Janet's hair was the color of strawberries, her lips were darker, cherries that had swollen so full of sap that they burst and trickled. Bees and flies landed on her face, sipping the blood. Then the crazies came. There were so few left, but nine shots drew them like bees to blood. A white-haired gentleman with a torn suit and a collar of blood went down with a bullet in the head. A teenage girl stumbled, even after two shots disintegrated the better part of her legs, she kept coming, crawling while blood fertilized the earth. Then three of them came in a pack. Two middle aged women, women that looked enough alike to be sisters, and an elderly woman who's head jerked to the side every few seconds. The woman on the left fell to bullets. The elderly woman crumpled when the college boy swung at her throat with the hunting knife. Blood painted the college boy's face, except for a white slash of bared teeth. The last woman launched herself on the bus driver. The meek old man who had lost his nerve, cowering against the trees. He wailed as she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, with enough force to break his collarbone. She tore a gash in his shoulder, starting from the collarbone to his neck, tearing at the end, a tendon in her mouth. Bullets disintegrated her head, but they missed the bus driver. He fell to the ground, gargling and twitching, not ten feet from the still-warm body of Harold Numquist. There was a silence, a pause, a respite. The college boy ran to Annette and Ned, ignoring the motionless groaning body of the girl he had beaten nearly to death. "We have to go." He growled, dragging Ned in one arm. "Leave the bitches, they'll give us food for this one. Less to carry. Leave them for the runners." Annette screamed through the tape, she writhed like an animal, like an animal in a trap. She wouldn't let them take her son. Then Mark burst through the foliage. The others had stopped for a moment, to process the event, to process the danger and make a plan. Mark had no regard for himself anymore. He walked into the foliage in wide strides, cocking the shotgun he braced against his stomach. The manager's head disappeared in a spray of red globules. The blast was huge, and it echoed for miles. The birds flew, shrieking and flapping. For a moment, for a terrible moment, it looked like Mark would blow away the college boy, as well as the limp six-year-old boy in his arms. But Mark paused. The college boy dropped Ned into the dirt, and pulled his pistol out in something that looked like a liquid flash of light. Four bullets struck Mark in the chest, as Mark pulled the trigger on the shotgun. --- Back at the house, the waiting was horrible. Melvin and Jenna were taking watch. Vera stayed with Jonah. She was so scared. She fingered the necklace she wore. It had Davis's wedding ring on it. He had been going through a divorce BEFORE, and two days ago, he had given her the ring. It was too big for any of her fingers, even her thumb, so she wore it on a chain around her neck. She rubbed it in her hands until it was warm, almost alive. Jonah saw how worried she was, and despite his own fear, his own panic, he reached out and held her hand, tried to lend her whatever strength he had to offer. Jonah was the first person that Vera told her secret to. The men were only gone for an hour, but it felt like an age, and it was Jenna who saw them returning. She saw Thad and David carrying Mark between them, and she saw the Doc and Jess carrying Janet, who was covered Jess's shirt, which fell to her knees but did nothing to hide the brutal beating she had sustained. Annette trailed behind, Ned clinging to her shirt, weeping and stumbling. She was looking around frantically, eyes wide, gripping a gun. Janet and Mark were hustled into the RV, and the Doc ran to get his supplies. --- Thad went up to Jonah as soon as his hands were empty. Mark was alive. God knew how it was possible. He had four bullets in his torso. One had torn through his side, two had landed in his left shoulder, and one had shattered his collarbone. He had been streaming blood from all of his wounds. But he wasn't dead. He wouldn't die. And for the moment, Thad didn't care. He needed to make sure that Jonah was okay. He burst into the attic to see Jonah on the edge of the bed, struggling to stand up. Thad loped across the room and sat on the bed, pulling Jonah into his arms. Jonah clung to him, burying his feverish face into Thad's neck. "Are you okay? Are you okay? What happened?" Thad just squeezed Jonah to him. Maybe it was just that he had survived. The sheer raw thrill of his survival... But he was so horny he couldn't stand it. Jonah moaned when Thad delved his hands under the teenager's clothing. He yielded to the older man's touch, to Thad's grasping needful hands. Thad was rough, but not violent. There was a kind of desperate energy to his movements, but his touches were gentle. Jonah was out of breath, his pulse was racing, his skin was on fire, but nothing hurt. Thad flung him on his back on the bed and nearly tore the t-shirt over his head. The kiss was rough, stubble burned their lips, Jonah's was light and sparse, Thad's was rough and damp with trickling sweat. Jonah got into the mood fast. He clung to Thad's rippling back through his shirt, his fingers digging into Thad's skin. He arched his hips up, humping against Thad's crotch, feeling his arousal through four layers of cloth. Thad growled with need, and went down Jonah's lean body. He bit Jonah's neck, blunting the force so he wouldn't hurt his sick lover. Jonah let out a whimper of need, of soaring arousal. He grabbed at the hem of Thad's shirt, yanking it up with all of his strength, feeling the seams give and tear near the base. Thad shucked his shirt, and pressed his face into Jonah's thin soft chest. He opened his mouth wide and sucked on the skin all around Jonah's tiny nipple, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth, and applying gentle pressure with his teeth. Jonah mewed and squirmed. Thad slid down and yanked Jonah's jeans down below his buttocks and took Jonah's cock into his mouth, sucking it in with a pressure that was gentle but needful. His hands moved up Jonah's body, stroking, grasping rubbing. Jonah's nipples and chest were swollen and red from the marks of his mouth. "God... Oh God... Thad!" His voice was a whisper, ecstatic, transcendental. Like a man caught in the convulsions of a religious experience. Jonah climbed up the stairs. "Jonah... Jonah did you--JESUS." Jonah cried out, bucking his hips in ecstasy as Jess bolted down the stairs, face flaming and stomach sick. No one could misinterpret those sounds, Jonah was coming. If not for those sounds, he would have barged in and torn Thad from the frail kid. Jonah was on his back, his bruises livid against his pale sweaty skin. Fresh red marks stained his body. Jonah lurked in the stairwell, glaring down his shoes and waiting for that keening desperate sound of pleasure keyed down and he heard the rustle of fabric. He barged up. "Jonah, are you okay?" He glared at Thad who looked back with equal dislike and frustration. He still wore his jeans and the bulge of his arousal was thick and angry. Jonah looked washed out, like the energy had been torn from him. He pulled the cover over him, and his face was flushed and embarrassed. He nodded breathlessly. "What happened?" Jonah whispered, surreptitiously pulling up his jeans under the blanket. --- It was a strange scene, full of strange emotions. With the exception of Bert and Jenna, who had agreed to take a shift, everyone was gathered around the RV, which the Doc had made into a hospital. He was in with them still. Annette tended to her sister, but no one else was let in. The Doc came out once to ask for strong lights and someone to hold them. Melvin agreed, his face pale. He asked for boiled water, and for someone to boil the rudimentary surgical tools in his bag. His hands were in yellow latex gloves, and the latex was painted a bright garish red. Jonah walked out of the house, leaning on Thad for support. Vera ran up to greet him, but her face was strained. In normal circumstances, everyone would have been happy for Jonah's recovery... but normal is just a word, a word as inaccurate as Good and Evil. "He's been in there for almost forty minutes." Vera whispered. The Doc shouted for more hot water, and for someone to boil bandages. "He hasn't said anything for or against." Jonah looked at the RV, tightening his grip on Thad's forearm. Were there still bloodstains on the carpet? Were there new ones now? Thad glanced down at Jonah, and saw blood dripping from the boy's clenched fist. He snatched Jonah's wrist, and the hand flopped open loosely, showing four deep crescents curled loosely on the palm. Thad looked into Jonah's pale eyes, and something passed between them. Thad went to David, who was apart from the others. David was sitting on a tree stump, staring at the trailer. "Is there anything I can do?" Thad murmured. "I don't like just waiting, and I haven't contributed as much as I should." David didn't even look at him. "Make dinner. Take over the watch, help clean guns, redistribute Harold's belongings. Always things to do here, we're always just so fucking busy." Thad frowned, but didn't react. The leader had lost a member of his group, and it looked like he would lose another. He headed towards the house, with Jess and Jonah tagging along to help. --- Dinner was beans. All kinds of beans, white beans, wax beans, green beans. Made into a sort of chili with spices and tomato paste and an entire head of garlic. It was passible. No one, not even picky Ned ever turned down food anymore. Short of food allergies or food poisoning, everything was edible. In the middle of the meal, the Doc came back. He looked exhausted. "I'm just coming back to get dinner for Mel and Annette and Janet. Janet's gonna be fine, she's woken up and she doesn't have a concussion. Everything else will heal, the damage wasn't too extensive." Everyone was looking at him as he spooned beans into a large bowl. Everyone wanted to speak, everyone had one thing on their mind, but no one wanted to be the first to say it. The one who broke the silence was Ben, looking down at his plate and pushing the beans around with his spoon. "What about Mark? Is he okay?" The Doc shook his head, not disagreeing or agreeing with the statement, but in wonder. "I've never seen anything like it. He hasn't woken up, hasn't been moving around. I removed the bullets from his shoulder and side. He opened up an artery, and he has a fractured collarbone and Sternum. He's lost pints of blood. But..." The Doc shook his head again. "He's... a machine. His heart is thumping along like he's a racehorse." "He might just be okay." The Doc sounded hopeful. Gerald Everette had never borne the brunt of Mark's anger or abuse. The Doc had never had any reason to be afraid, and Mark had saved Janet's life. He had gone into the clearing when they were waiting, holding back for an opportunity, with no regard for his life. In the Doc's eyes, Mark was a hero. Doc left the building, his thoughts humming with hope and relief. Ben looked down at his food and stood up, piling beans into a bowl. "I'm gonna take some up to mom and dad." He whispered, hiding his face. Jonah tightened his grip on Thad's hand under the table. Jess glared through the window, his eyes on fire, lit up with a cause. Thad looked through the window, making sure to keep his face still. Alone at the End of the World Ch. 04 David didn't move an inch. He just kept putting his food into his mouth in small slow bites. --- Janet was with Annette and Ned. The Doc had given her good pain medication. He didn't have a lot of it, but the old couple had left behind half a bottle of percocet. He was cautious with it, because he knew that some medications grew stronger with time, while others waned. This was one of the former, because in the brief window before Janet curled up on her side and closed her bruised eyes, she was stoned out of her mind. Annette slept on the other side of her son, but hugged her little sister in her arms, sandwiching her precious angel between them. Ned was asleep, but the entire night he kept waking his mother with his struggling and crying. He told his mother that he was dreaming about 'the mean ones, and daddy.' Annette closed her eyes each time, trying to strengthen herself to the pangs of hurt every time she thought about her ex-husband. Thought about his slack empty eyes and his sagging bleeding mouth. That had been BEFORE. --- Jonah was exhausted. He took the medication from the Doc, and curled up in the attic bed. Vera and Davis slept in the room that Harold and Melvin once slept in. Melvin switched to a cot in the living room. Jess was the one who came to Thad. Both of the men suffered from a mutual dislike, but this was more important. Thad tucked Jonah under the blankets and followed the lean hunter down into the stairwell. "Mark needs to go." Jess whispered. His eyes were bloodshot. His face haggard with stubble. "We need to get rid of him. Now is our only chance. It'll just look like he died from an infection or something." Thad stared at him. "He saved our lives." Jess looked up at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Look what he did to Jonah? What he did to Harold? The guy's a fucking lunatic. He's the only thing in the way. If I had the option between him and a crazy, I'd pick the crazy every time." Suddenly Thad was grabbing his shoulders, slamming him into the wall. Thad's furious face was an inch from his own. Jess could smell the sweat coming off of the man, see the rage in his black eyes. "You don't think I realize what he did? What a monster he is?" Jess was silent, stock-still, pinned against the wall and feeling the strength of the man's arms. Thad let him go and backed away, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry." Jess straightened his shirt, unwilling to show how shaken he had been. "You're right. He has to die." Jonah shifted and moaned above their heads. Jess opened the attic door to leave, but before he did, he turned and faced Thad. "When?" --- It was silent in the RV. Mark was laid out on his back in the little bedroom. The Doc was asleep, snoring on a cot in the kitchen. He had devised a system that he thought was clever. He had tied a kite string to Mark's thumb and the string was attached to a bundle of round bells. A christmas ornament he had found in the basement. It would wake him up if Mark moved. He had gotten the idea from an article that he had read about 'living morgues' in medieval Europe. They kept their corpses in the morgues with bells on their hands and feet. To prevent accidental live burials. However, the Doc was a heavier sleeper then he thought, because the bells had been jingling subtly for a few minutes before Mark gnawed through the string himself. Mark was wide awake. He gritted his teeth in agony. The pain was everywhere and huge, and when he tried to breathe it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. Tears were in his eyes, and his breaths were slow and painful, but his gritted teeth were twisted into a grin. The universe bent backwards for him. He was alive. --- The Doc didn't wake up for the gnawed bell string. And the Doc didn't wake up when the broken screen-door opened up either. Soft footsteps on the carpet. The off-white carpet that still showed the bloodstains from the violent rape of a young man. Mark had taken pains to cover them with a rug, but the rug was gone. Maybe he was just lazy, or maybe his craziness was going so far that even his animal cunning was starting to slip. The tall muscular man slipped through the dark RV, moonlight shadows filtered through mosquito-screens and dirty glass, illuminating no more then the line of a stairway, or the glitter of a doorknob. The moonlight briefly shone on his shaven head, on his muscular naked torso. On his eyes. He climbed the small stairs to the bedroom above the driving compartment, and he opened the door. The Doc snored, but someone else heard this. Mark looked up from where he breathed and plotted in pain. His eyes widened, but the man ran forward and cupped Mark's mouth in his broad callused palm. Mark looked up at him, and feebly beat him around the head and face with his hands, but he was weak. The feeble struggles broke open his wounds and the snowy bandages on his chest and side bloomed bright red roses. David leaned forward and the moonlight from the bedroom window threw his face into sharp relief. His nose was slightly crooked, with a faint white scar at the bridge. He had broken it when he was sixteen. Mark could see every scar, every feature, every flaw. The place where his eyebrow was broken by another small scar. The ancient pits on his cheeks, illuminated acne scars. His full lips, slightly parted but connected by a string of saliva that looked as delicate and beautiful as a strand of silk in the moonlight. His teeth gleamed between his lips, and his eyes were as dead and glittery as the glassy gaze of stuffed deer heads. He stood there, keeping his muscular arm stiff and flexed over his brother's mouth. With the other, he held down Mark's feeble arms. Blood spread and leaked under the bandages. Mark's eyes were frantic and rolling. Froth from his mouth flecked and leaked through David's fingers. "You're so stupid Mark." David whispered. His voice was hoarse and wavering. He was crying. His glassy reddened eyes glossed and spilled with tears. "You're so fucking stupid." "You doused our dog with gasoline and lit the match." "You killed those animals." "You started that fire in the school, everyone thought it was that autistic kid with the huge glasses, but I know it was you." "You put that cut-up cat in the Johansson girl's yard." "You raped our neighbor Tom." "You broke that whore's arm." "You killed that girl." "You killed Jason, from boot camp" "You fucked the queer." Each sentence, each crime, punctuated by a vicious silent shake. Mark frothed like a rabid dog, spit slicking down his chin and his brother's hands. He fought so hard that the tiny blood vessels in his eyes were starting to burst. He tried to shake his head back and forth, to bite David's fingers. If another surviver were to see them, they would have looked at Mark, and seen nothing but a crazy. "I never said anything Mark... you're my brother. I never said anything." Tears streamed down David's face, but his words seethed with hatred. "I don't care that you fucked the queer. As long as you kept it a secret. But he ran." "You raped Ben." An extra-hard shake. Mark's head knocked against the headboard and David froze, containing his rabid bleeding dying brother while he listened for the Doc. He heard nothing but distant snores. He looked back down at Mark. "You're sick. You're too sick to live Mark. You're too stupid." David reached for a pillow and straddled his brother's chest, pinning Mark's arms and smothering the pillow over his face. David cried. Mark struggled. Mark's body was a lithe writhing bleeding thing. The bandages were soaked. It reeked of sweat and metallic blood. It wasn't quiet, it was silent and desperate. "I love you... I love you..." David whispered, his dead eyes staring through the tiny window, at the moon. Mark's body became still, but David didn't move. He straddled Mark's body, pressing the pillow down over his face. After the minute hand David's watch moved from the three to the six... He stood up from his brother's corpse. He wasn't over yet. He wiped Mark's face, covered him with a blanket. Closed his eyes. "Abel slew Cain." David whispered, disjointedly. He looked down at Mark's body, and swiftly walked out of the trailer. --- NOVEMBER --- Gerald Everett, he who was known as the Doc, was tending to two patients that he had never expected to ever have to tend. One was a large content gelding with a cut on his knee. The gelding was named Simba, for reasons no one could quite remember. He had been found in late august, scrawny, dragging a fifteen-foot rope with a rail spike at the end. The fierce debate of wether or not to butcher him had gone on for a day and a half, but all and all, no one regretted adding him to their family. He would help with plowing next spring, and he had already helped a lot with dragging sledges of firewood other loads. He was a big horse, and could hold two light riders to go out on search parties for goods. The other was a big floppy-eared German Shepard puppy with a swollen worm-filled belly and a full cage of ribs and a coat swarming with fleas. Janet walked into the barn, shivering under a coat and a blanket. She walked to Simba and petted his strong silky neck. "I know that Ned loves her to death, but there are so many packs of strays right now. It's gonna be a real problem." The Doc sighed and gave the pup some of the heart-worm medicine they had found locked away in the barn. At least they had some rudimentary veterinarian equipment on the side, the advantage to taking over a barn. "I know, but who knows, she might be useful. Did he really come up with the name? Janet smiled and skipped over to Gerald, kissing him right on the top of his head. "Nope. Atalanta was a Greek princess who was raised by a bear and nearly killed her future husband in a wrestling match. Only Annette could think of such a feminist name for a damn dog." --- Annette and Jess were tangled together. Tangled in a lover's knot. The house was frozen, so they were tangled under several layers of blankets. He was kissing her fingertips. Annette told him the news with tentative hope. "My period is a couple of weeks late." Jess paused, and his hand slid down from where it had been casually cupping her breast. His hand rested on her flat stomach. His hand caressed, with a slow amazed warmth. "It's going to be dangerous." She whispered, leaning into him, wanting to feel her man against her. She loved the way that thought sounded. Jess was her man. Hers, no one else's. "I'm afraid." Jess got up onto his hands and knees, and moved so his head rested on her stomach. He kissed her there. "I am, too." He whispered. "But I love you Annette. I will take care of you." When he said it, it wasn't a claim of ownership. It wasn't a contract. It was love, pure love. "I know you will." She whispered, smiling and running her fingers through his coarse sandy hair. Jess lowered his trail of kisses. Annette let her head fall back, and wove her fingers in his hair, smiling, and letting her face burn with ecstasy as the cold sun burned through the thin blue curtains. --- Ben and Franklin were having a snowball fight with Stacy in the backyard. Their laughter rang through the air. The snow was new, and for a brief magical time, it would be beautiful, and not an annoyance. Jenna and Bert were on the roof, sharing a thermos of hot cocoa that had been spiked liberally with the last of the Captain Morgan. They watched the kids, watched Ned struggle to make a snowman, the bottom snowball of which was nearly taller then he was. --- Davis and Vera were in the process of bathing. It was a long and time consuming process, it had been ever since the river had gotten too cold to bathe in. They heated up a big pot of water over the fireplace. The fireplace kept the living room, kitchen, and dining room moderately warm. The brick chimney also went through Bert and Jenna's bedroom, making that the warmest bedroom in the house (though not by much). Every other room was frozen, and kept warm with hot water bottles under sheets, body heat, and the liberal usage of one of Jonah's inventions. Jonah had invented the soap, he had cobbled together a sledge that could harness Simba or a group of them pulling together. And his most recent contribution had been tripods he had made out of parts from the disassembled tractor and a blowtorch. Tripods with shallow pans that could be filled with coals from the fireplace. Davis and Vera brought the pot of boiling water up to the attic, which they had reclaimed. Two of Jonah's tripods struggled to keep the drafty place warm. They stripped and took sponge baths with the rapidly cooling water. Water trickled in streams down the smooth mahogany curve of Vera's stomach. She looked down over her enlarged breasts, and was able to see the gentle curve of the baby's foot press outward to make an imprint on her stomach. Davis put his hand there, to mark where the tiny point of contact had been. --- David, Melvin, Thad, and Jonah were all in the same place. They were in the woods, bringing wood back to the farmhouse. Wood was the most important priority. Jonah's huge vegetable garden had all been jarred and preserved. Jesse hunted every day, sometimes with Annette, sometimes not. The corn had been dried and preserved in plank-bins that Davis and Melvin had made. Rattraps surrounded the bins in a ring of bean-baited traps. Every day, they collected one or two. Wood was what would keep them alive. Already, a huge pile shadowed the northern wall of the farmhouse, adding extra insulation. But a giant poplar had died standing up, and it was a full-time job chopping it into manageable lengths for the stove, not to mention hauling it back to camp. Jonah was by the head of the tree, chopping off branches with the lightest ax, a three-pounder. He had massive piles of them that he tied into rough bales with twine. Thad and David hacked at the body of the tree. With a ten-pound ax and a two-handled saw. Melvin loaded the cut logs and bales of branches onto the sledge. When there wasn't any forthcoming, he helped to man the two-handed saw with David. It was twenty degrees out, and the wind was picking up, but with their work, they all got hot. Melvin was bundled up still, but Jonah had stripped off his outermost coat and all of his hats. David was down to a single sweatshirt and some work gloves. Thad had nothing but a t-shirt and an open jacket and leather gloves. The sledge was full, and David pronounced them done for the day. "Three loads is good enough." He said curtly. "More tomorrow. We can take breaks when it's too cold to come out." They all breathed tired sighs of relief, and went to the sledge to put on their harnesses and drag the wood home. --- Melvin slept in the room with David. The Doc and Janet had taken over the room where Melvin and Harold used to sleep. Thad and Jonah had taken the cellar. Thad was upstairs, warming himself by the stove, so when he went downstairs, Jonah was resting under the covers, naked. Jonah turned his head and looked up at Thad innocently, the goosebump-roughened tops of his shoulders shivering from under the blankets. Thad grinned. "We have an hour until dinner." Jonah stood, regardless of the cold. Jonah's naked body was long and scarred. He had never regained any hearing in his left ear, but some of his balance had returned. His silky black hair touched the tops of his shoulders, touched the tendons that stood out and made hollow of harsh shadow and skin in the dim emberlight of the cellar. His body had toughened. He was a rope of muscle. Lean strength bulged in his arms and thighs, and his stomach was long and ridged. His navel was a black sliver that headed the tip of a sparse dark treasure trail that framed his hard cock. The dim light sparkled on the droplet of precome at the tip of his slender cock. "An hour is enough." Jonah whispered. He shivered. Delicious tremors shook his lean body. Rippled his back. The pearl of precome swelled, and then dribbled down the swollen pink head. Thad let the jacket fall from his body. His sock feet whispered across the floor. Jonah moved with him. The young man met his kiss fiercely, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue. The young man arched his shivering body into his. They writhed. Out of clothes and under covers. They kissed and whimpered and caressed. Jonah snatched for the tub of clear greasy vaseline. Thad's body was bowing him down. Jonah felt how hard Thad was, and panted. This wasn't the time for sweet timid touches and gentle mouths. He wanted it rough, raw. Jonah splayed underneath him, on his hands and knees, spreading his arms palm-down before him and rubbing his cheek on the pillow, glaring up at Thad with a bright needful eye. He gave what could only be described as a snarl of pleasure as Thad pressed at his asshole with two greasy fingers. Jonah's tiny pink hole opened like a flower, accepting the fingers, swallowing them whole. Jonah moaned and thrashed, moving his ass in seductive circles and looking up at Thad with a challenge in his eye. Thad bared his teeth in a feral grin, and smeared vaseline on his cock before pushing at Jonah's entrance. Jonah's face crumpled with pain, the brief silky pain of Thad's thick cock head pushing past his sphincter. After three long slow strokes, the pain eased, and his teeth-gritted hisses turned into long whines of pleasure. Thad's cock was grinding against his prostate, battering it. Sending waves of sparks of pleasure like fire. Jonah straightened, lifting his torso and arms and face from the pillow. Thad put his arms on Jonah's flexing thighs to support his pounding hips. Jonah reached behind him and cupped the back of Thad's head in his hands, pulling himself level with the bigger man. They were naked in the frozen cellar. But they kept themselves warm. Their breaths puffed out in blank bubbles of steam. Their moans filled the air. Their sweat poured off of them, and mingled. They became one. They fucked until they were exhausted, because for them, it wasn't about the end, it was about the act. It was only when Jonah started to pant deeply and sag in Thad's arms that they hunted for orgasm. Thad moved faster, and he reached around to cup Jonah's dripping engorged cock in his hand. Jonah leaned back when the orgasm built behind his hips like a pocket hurricane. He leaned back, turning his sweat-slick torso into a perfect curve, and forcing Thad on his back. His come spurted all over his stomach and chest while he let out an exhausted ecstatic cry. Thad came just by watching the look on Jonah's face. --- "That was amazing." Thad murmured, resting under the covers with a trembling exhausted boy in his arms. Jonah smiled. Jonah got up and started to dry off, shivering in the damp cold of the cellar and huddling near one of his tripods. Thad rested, staring up at the ceiling. "We haven't seen anyone in a while. No looters, no crazies. I bet that the crazies are only in mexico and the lower warmer states now." Jonah pulled up some sweatpants. "I saw a crazy in September." Thad lifted his head. "Really?" Jonah nodded. "It was by the side of the road. It had been a woman. She was covered in warm clothes, which accounts for why she didn't die of exposure, I guess. She was starving. She couldn't even move." Jonah popped back under the covers. "We got a few minutes." He murmured, huddling into Thad's chest. He was quiet, and then he murmured. "Do you think that there's anywhere that wasn't touched by all of this? Maybe Japan? Or Australia? Hawaii? They could just be waiting for all of the stages of the disease to end." Alone at the End of the World Ch. 04 Thad sighed, and cupped Jonah's sweaty head under his chin. "Maybe, Sweetheart... Maybe." "I mean, the disease started in the south, it didn't even get to us for a while. I remember hearing broadcasts saying that the disease had JUST broken out in certain cities well after and well before it reached Bemidji." Thad kissed Jonah. "I love you Baby... but my dad had a saying." Jonah looked up at him, curious. "Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. That way, all of your surprises are happy." Jonah felt his eyes sting. "Yeah." "I'm sorry Jonah." The young man shook his head. "No. Don't be." He held off the despair in his voice to ask Thad a question. "Thad... What's gonna happen to us? Humanity?" Thad thought about what to say. And then shrugged. "I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe we'll do the same shit over again. The Crazies will all die, the government will come out of their hidden bunkers and eventually, we'll set up our old cities and empires. Maybe in history classes ten generations from now, they'll read about us like we read about the bubonic plague." "Maybe we'll all die. Another disease will spring up, or maybe we're just too modernized to survive. We'll give up, and eat our pistols, or these new wild dog packs will tear us to shreds." "Maybe, maybe we'll evolve. Learn from our mistakes." Jonah was quiet. "I love you Thad." He whispered, kissing the older man on his soft lips, tasting the tender insides where the skin transformed from dark brown to a tender vulnerable pink. Jonah rested his head on Thad's arm. "No matter what happens. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad that I'm not alone." THE END Alone at the End of the World Bert and Jenna and their three kids shared a large family tent, and the sisters and Annette's son lived in a four-man tent. The Doc and Melvin shared a two-man tent. Jess shared with Harold in another two-man tent. Vera spent the night in Davis's RV, and made love with him. Jonah slept alone in a two-man tent with duct tape over the holes in the canvas seams. At four in the morning, Vera shook him awake and gave him some warmish coffee in a metal thermos. She taught him the basics of how to use the hunting rifle in his hands and he climbed the fire tower to keep watch. --- The next three days passed quietly. Every day since the illness had been full of violence, but for three days, it was peaceful. Nothing broke the eerie quiet. Jonah spent the three days learning how to handle the hunting rifle without wasting ammo (mostly dry-firing at targets) and trying his absolute hardest to get along with people. It wasn't going to work, him pretending not to be gay. Everyone already knew, thanks to Harold so Jonah did his best to be everywhere. He volunteered for the most watches. He did laundry and dishes and looked for firewood and boiled water. He even buried ashes and dug new latrine pits. Jonah had been taking some chemistry classes at BSU, so he instantly became a lot more popular when he figured out how to make a gooey liquid soap out of wood ashes and crisco. The Doc and Davis and Melvin were all right with him, if not necessarily comfortable. Harold and Bert were downright nasty, calling him faggot and queer whenever they could get away with it. Jess never really spoke to him, not being friendly or unfriendly. The women, even Jenna, were all his friends, and Ned was a sweet kid. Bert didn't allow his children to be around Jonah, but Stacey had a crush on him. It couldn't last forever. --- Jonah had the night watch when he saw headlights careening down the road. The headlights halted near the dirt trail at the entrance of the campgrounds and came squalling in. Jonah ran down the metal stairs, calling everyone awake, his voice a panicky cry. The children and mothers were hidden in the RV, everyone else took cover behind the dead cars. Bert, Jonah, Melvin, and the Doc were all armed. Jess too, if you counted his crossbow. The rest had various clubs and weapons, that would do jack-squat against looters if they had guns. Jonah moaned low in his throat. He was terrified. The car, a black military Jeep screeched until it was a little ways down the road and two men came out. One was dressed in pale tan army fatigues, and the other was dressed in camo pants and a tan shirt. Both had guns slung over their backs, but their hands were up and empty. The taller one, the one in the fatigues called out. "Oi, lets put the guns down and have a friendly conversation. We ain't here to rob or loot, we're here to talk. I am Corporal David Tennyson, and this is my brother Mark. Can we put the guns down?" The man had a calm charismatic voice, and his hands were up and empty. Jonah looked hesitantly at the others and stood up, taking his gun off and placing it on the hood of the rusty ford he had been kneeling behind. Bert and the Doc lowered their weapons. Melvin did a moment later, and Jess even later, glaring at them suspiciously. The brothers had never stopped walking, and in a moment they reached the camp. The younger one looked around. David had a very short crew cut, Mark had his longer and floppier, almost a mullet but not quite. They both had a southern look to them, and their words came out with an almost-southern feel. Where 'can't' wanted to be 'caint' and 'now' wanted to be 'naow' but wasn't quite. "I know it's late, and I want to apologize for that, but can we have a little group meeting around the fire? Who's in charge?" For a moment none of them said anything, and then Vera stepped forward. "No one really, there hasn't been a lot of fighting, and everyone pulls their weight with the chores." He nodded at her. "That seems a good place to start." --- "We want to join your little group. It's an obvious way to go." All of the group except Ned and the twins were around the fire. Mark was eating a roast squirrel while his brother talked. "This is a nice little camp you have here, fresh water, capable hunters, good facilities, and isolated. The problem is, it is very visible. Me and Mark and a couple of the men can go out tomorrow and try and camouflage it up a bit. Also, the crazies have begun to leave the cities, and we've run into several in the woods. We have guns and ammo, and I've had military experience and my brother was in basic training when the shit hit the fan. How many of you have at least a year of experience using a gun?" Melvin raised his hand, and after a moment Jess and Annette did, too. "Good, you three can help us and we can be the main perimeter and watch for the crazies and the looters." Mark and David were in. They were already talking like it was a done deal. The little band of survivors had no leader, and they were desperate for someone who knew what he was doing. David fit the bill. --- The group had been talking for nearly an hour, and when David suggested that they get some sleep, no one argued. David had become the leader of the little camp in less then two hours. "Are there more tents? We need a place to sleep in." Jonah spoke softly. "I have an extra space in my tent." "Shut up faggot! You gonna try to suck his dick while he sleeps?" That was Harold, jeering. Mark and David were suddenly looking at Jonah. "You a queer?" It was the first thing Mark had said all night. Jonah looked down at his shoes, unable to speak. Vera's mouth was pressed into a tight thin line. "Leave Jonah alone. There are only so many humans left, and it doesn't matter if they're gay or straight." She was glaring so fiercely, bristling protectively. David laughed. "I don't give a damn that he's queer, as long as he pulls his weight and keeps to himself." Vera glared, but not as intensely. "There is an extra room in the RV, a couch and we could bring in the army cot from the storage cabin." David smiled. "That would work very well ma'am, thank you kindly." He was being all charm, but there was something stiff and cold under that smile. He didn't take kindly to being bossed around by Vera. Job Title Mark never stopped looking at Jonah. --- Jonah woke up in the middle of the night with someone hot and heavy lying on top of him in his sleeping bag. A hand went over his mouth. "Don't yell or nothing boy... Shh... Thats it. That's a good little queer. I got somethin' for ya queer. You'll like it." Jonah had a hard strong hand over his mouth, and the other hand went around his slender wrist and pressed his hand to the denim-covered bulge of a man's groin. Jonah saw a handsome southern face surrounded by a messy brown haircut. Mark. "You're a lonely little queer aren't you? None of the men here wanna waste their time on you." Jonah whimpered as the man shifted his weight, crushing one arm underneath him. "I ain't gonna hurt you queer, you're just gonna do me a little favor. Nod if you understand me queer." Jonah nodded. He was too afraid to struggle, too afraid to do anything. "Good boy... Good little queer." Mark was moving so his muscular thighs straddled Jonah's throat inside the sleeping bag. It was so dark, but Jonah could hear the rippling growl of Mark's zipper. Mark maneuvered, and suddenly Jonah felt the thick head of Mark's cock in his mouth. "Fuck yeah little queer. Suck it, suck that fat dick. You love my dick don't you?" Jonah whimpered a little. He felt so humiliated. This felt so wrong, and he was even getting aroused. This man was raping him, forcing him to suck his cock. He was so afraid. Mark was quick. In no time at all he was fucking Jonah's throat in shallow thrusts and panting, occasionally growling "fuck" under his breath. Jonah whimpered when Mark took out his cock and stroked it violently in his hand, and a moment later Jonah flinched when he felt hot heavy ropes of come strike his face. Mark finished and tucked his cock in his pants. Suddenly Mark was shushing him quietly and wiping his face with a ragged cloth from his pocket. "Hush up queer...Shh... I didn't hurt you, did I?" Jonah looked up at the big man straddling his chest and shook his head tentatively. His eyes were wide, and he felt so fragile. Mark knew how fragile the boy under him was. "Well boy, I ain't gonna hurt you ever. I like you boy... I don't wanna hurt you." Mark stroked Jonah's soft beardless cheek. Jonah flinched a little from that hand, but he was so neglected that he leaned into the touch after a moment. "That's right boy... You hard? Tell your best buddy Mark, are you hard?" Jonah made a little noise that was half gasp and half sob. He nodded feebly, crying a little and turning his head away. It felt so wrong. He felt so ashamed. He felt Mark unzipping the sleeping bag, but he didn't open his eyes. Jonah had been sleeping in an oversized T-shirt. He pressed his thin thighs together when Mark pulled up the hem. "Damn, that's tiny... How old are you? Twelve?" Jonah moaned weakly deep in his throat. The derision in Mark's voice burned like acid when he was so vulnerable. He waited, expecting Mark to stroke it himself, or maybe even suck it, but nothing happened. "What are you waiting for queer? Jack that tiny dick off. Me? I wouldn't touch it if your dick was made of diamonds." Jonah hiccuped a weak sob and touched himself. With his shaking hand he wrapped it around his cock and started to stroke. He didn't have lube, and with Mark's cold cruel eyes on him he couldn't reach climax. Mark settled his weight down on Jonah's chest so it was harder for the boy to breathe. "You're such a worthless little faggot, can't even come." Jonah let out a louder sob and Mark slapped him hard across the cheek. He smothered Jonah's weak cry with his hand. The slap had made Jonah come. The jolt of sensation, and plus, the surprise had made his hand clench down on his cock. Mark saw what had happened, and he looked down at the frightened face and glazed eyes of the boy between his legs. His hand was clamped over Jonah's mouth and Jonah was making weak snuffling noises through his fingers. "Good queer... That's a good little queer. Naw! Naw you don't get to go start cryin' and all that shit. Shut up. I said shut the fuck up you fucking queer!" Jonah looked up at that mean face and bared teeth with wide terrified eyes. His mouth was shut tight, but his lips were trembling with all of the sobs that wanted to burst out. Mark stroked the side of his face and it felt so good. Jonah felt like screaming with how good and terrible he felt. He felt weak and sick. "I'm gonna go back to the RV boy. Are you gonna tell anyone about our little secret boy?" Mark's voice was soft and gentle again, but Jonah made the mistake of not answering right away. "I asked you a question queerboy! I want you to answer it!" "N-N-N-No!" Jonah's answer was a tiny frightened squeak of a noise. He shook his head frantically. If anyone knew, he would die of shame. Mark put his hand over Jonah's jaw. "I wanna hear you say it queerboy. Tell your your best buddy Mark, 'I wont tell anyone our secret.' Come on, I wanna hear you say it." "Ah... I w-wont t-t-tell any-wuh-one our secret." Jonah was stammering and crying. He was so tired. Somehow everything else, the fear, the rape, the domination, it seemed less important then just the fact that Jonah was exhausted. "You stuttered queer, that's a terrible habit. Say it again." Mark made him say it until he didn't stutter, nearly ten more times. Satisfied that it had been drilled into Jonah's skull, Mark left. Jonah started to cry as soon as the burly young man left the tent. He felt so ashamed. He buried his face in the sleeping bag and howled with frustration. The only gay man he knew was a violent closeted maniac. Nausea came in a rush and he barely made it outside in time to gush hot vomit on the ground. When he was on his hands and knees, weeping and wiping his mouth, he looked up and saw his first crazy since Jess had rescued him from the tree. The man was wearing army fatigues. His eyes were swollen and bruised and his face was badly sunburned. Blood smeared his broken fingers and swollen lips. He let out a murderous grunt and scrambled after the boy on the ground. "Help me!! Help me!! Help me!!" Jonah let out three breathless shrieks as he scrambled to his feet and ran to the fire tower. Tents rustled and suddenly the fatigue-wearing crazy collapsed, a crossbow bolt in his eye. Jonah fell and curled into a tiny fetal ball. He let out his breath in soft hurt moans. He couldn't breathe, he was holding his throat and taking in tiny wheezing sips of air. "Shit! Breathe Jonah! Breathe!" Someone was holding him, shaking him, cradling his head to try and open his airways. Then the man took off his shirt and wrapped it around Jonah's head. Inside the shirt it smelled like sweat and sunshine and soap. The air was warm and close and the darkness soothed Jonah, settled him. He continued to take fast shallow breaths inside the shirt, and he flinched when he heard the gunshot. "Is he bit?" A high frightened woman's voice. Janet's voice. It was just too much for Jonah, so things went grey. --- Jonah never completely blacked out. He remembered pieces, startled thoughts, bits of speech, fragmented images. Janet asking if he was bitten, over and over. The Doc taking off his shirt that he slept in to see if he was, and then Jonah cringing and trying to cover himself because in his confusion he thought that Mark was back. David screaming and shooting a crazy. Melvin and Davis keeping a terrified watch. Jess was the one who had saved him. Jess had been sleeping lightly and had heard Jonah's retching. He had gone out to see, and shot the crazy with his crossbow. Jonah still had the shirt over his face, using it like someone would use a paper bag, to slow his breathing. Jess smelled masculine and gamy. A wild smell, an intoxicating smell. Jonah knew that the last thing he needed was a letch for the group hunter/redneck, but he wasn't thinking clearly, and just the smell of his shirt was enough to start a throb of infatuation in his skinny chest. Mark though... Jonah looked blearily into the group of shooters. It was all of the men except him, Harold, and the Doc, and with the addition of Annette. Mark was standing next to his brother, not saying a word. Mark caught his eye and with a smirk, he put his finger to his lips. Jonah flinched and ducked his gaze down. "You alright sweetie?" That was Jenna. As if tending to her own three children wasn't enough, she had taken on nursing him. Right now, he was incredibly grateful. All of them were huddled under the no-sides tent except for Melvin and Davis in the tower. Davis screamed something about movement in the trees and the shooters ran off. The non-shooters grabbed their weapons. Even little six-year-old Ned picked up a hatchet with a look of total terror on his face. Jonah pulled his long sleeping-shirt down to cover his knees and got up, handling a shovel. He heard the screams of a group of crazies. They ran into the camp, barely visible in the light of dawn. Shots rang out, a quick firecracker volley of them and puffs of dust rose from the ground. Four or Five of the crazies hit the ground, leaving at least as many running. Another quick volley and another three hit the ground. The last two were very close. Annette shot one, David shot the other. Vera smashed her shovel on the head of a snarling twitching bleeding woman. Her blonde hair was dyed the color of strawberries from blood. "They won't bother the supplies! Grab some food and water and head up into the tower!" David's voice was a loud hoarse snarl. Everyone did as he said. Jonah grabbed a blanket from the ground and a canteen from a chair and ran up the narrow steps, feeling the metal steps cut his bare feet. David and Mark and Jess were the last to go in, they made a rough barricade out of a picnic table that had been part of the campground. There was a lull, no visible dead in the dim light of the rising sun. Mark and Jess kept watch by the picnic table while David ran up to where the rest of the group was huddled. He looked grim and fierce and sleepless in the dim light. "What supplies did we grab?" The supplies made a pitiful little pile. Three blankets, the half-full canteen, two bottles of water, a string bag with three cans of food in it, some weapons, and a sleeping bag. We'll stay here till morning, and then we are packing everything into the RV. We will siphon gas from the rest of the cars. We have to move. This was a nice spot but the crazies are hungry, and we have to get further away." They were dismayed, but no one disagreed, they were too afraid. Afraid of the crazies and afraid of David and Mark. --- Vera shook Jonah awake. He had been huddled in the sleeping bag, so exhausted that he had slept through a night of gunshots. Mark was standing, a blanket around his thick shoulders. He winked at Jonah and the boy flinched. Of course Mark wouldn't be satisfied with one time, he would want it again and again, every night maybe. Jonah wouldn't be able to tell anyone, they were in charge. Even if he could tell, he wouldn't. Jonah felt thick choking shame in the back of his throat. No one needed to know about this. "It's bright out." David looked grim and angry, no one wanted to argue with him, especially not with the way his knuckles were white from gripping his pistol. "There haven't been as many crazies as the night went on, and we haven't seen any for an hour, at least. Bert, Doc, Harold, and Davis, you can drag those bodies over to the ditch. Me, Mark and Jess will stay as a ground guard. Melvin, stay up in the tower and keep your eyes peeled. Stacey can keep an eye on the littler ones in the RV. The rest of you pack up all the supplies that we absolutely need." They got to work. Following David was easy, even when they were abandoning their home. At least he was a natural and charismatic leader. Jonah stepped gingerly over two dead crazies and started packing his things, his face pale and white and dazed. He threw some underwear and jeans and shoes on, but didn't change out of his sleeping shirt. It didn't take long for Jonah to pack his few belongings and roll up his sleeping bag and bedroll. He started helping the others, who had more things and were more spread out. Everyone looked up in terrified shock when a pair of crazies wandered out of the trees. Mark and Jess killed them, but everyone was even more frightened now, because the gunshot would bring more of them. Jonah ran supplies to the RV, putting sleeping bags and bedrolls and tents into the storage space and personal belongings in the sleeper area. The RV had three rooms. A tiny bedroom, a larger living room with an army cot set up in it and the kitchenette. The kids were hiding in the bedroom, lying packed together in the bed. Ned was crying and Stacey was trying to shush him. The camp looked picked bare. Every possible thing was crammed into the RV, and then the people got in. The kids and Annette and Jenna squeezed into the bedroom, some sitting on the floor. Davis, Jess, Bert, Harold, and Mark and the Doc sat in the living room, crammed side by side on the couch and army cot. Melvin and David were in the drivers compartment. Vera and Jonah and Janet were in the kitchenette. There were no places to sit other then the floor, but the women wanted some room, and Jonah couldn't bear to be in the same room as Mark. He could still see Mark, there was no real separator besides a curtain that was pulled to the side anyway. Alone at the End of the World Some of them were talking in low tones about the things they had been forced to leave behind. Their cars, some chairs, the huge family tent that Bert had shared with his wife and children. Jess looked pale and sick about having to leave the jeep behind. Jonah spread a sleeping bag on the linoleum floor so he and Vera and Janet would have something to sit on. The RV wasn't comfortable with so many people in it. It was hot, especially since the AC wasn't used to preserve the precious gasoline. The little chemical toilet smelled terrible, even though it wasn't clogged yet. The kids and their mothers were the most comfortable, since the little bedroom was at the forefront of the RV and it had some windows. All of the other rooms were downwind of the toilet, and the windows only opened a tiny ways. Jonah would have paid anything, given anything for just a moment of privacy. He even went to the disgusting bathroom just so he could have a moment alone. He looked at himself in the mirror. His dark hair was shaggy, and a little greasy. He did his best, but finding the time and energy to heat up water and take a sponge bath was taxing, and it was hard to wash your hair in a bucket. His eyes were pale blue, and bloodshot from weeping. Just looking into his own bloodshot eyes started him off again. He cried in low hurt moans, muffling them by biting down on his forearm. He cried because he was afraid, and because there was a violent man who wanted to force him over and over again. He cried because he was lonely and he desperately wanted another man. He cried because the world was ended, and because his parents and anyone who had ever loved him was dead. He jumped when someone knocked on the door. "Hurry up! I gotta go!" It was either Ben or Franklin, one of Jenna's boys. Jonah swiped his arm over his eyes and stumbled out of the stinking bathroom. It was Franklin, you could tell because though they were identical, Franklin had a crew cut and Ben had longer hair. Everyone looked at him, they must have been able to hear him while he was crying. Jonah cringed with humiliation and fled to the kitchen. Harold muttered "Fucking faggot!" under his breath, but not soft enough for Jonah not to hear. He sat on the sleeping bag with his knees to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Vera had the tact not to bother him, and Janet was crying herself. --- When asked where they were headed, David told them that there was a small isolated farm that he and Mark had driven by. They had gone by because of a small herd of crazies wandering around the barn, but it was isolated and roomy, over three miles away from the nearest farmhouse, and five miles away from the nearest residential area. It didn't look looted, so there was even the possibility of some extra supplies. There was a river nearby, so water would be harder to get, but not an issue. Jonah was trying to get some sleep. He felt sick to his stomach, they were actually going to try and hunt the crazies. He still had nightmares about them. He had been caught in a tree with two of them snarling and clawing and trying to climb at the bottom. He hadn't slept, because he had to stay awake and poke them with a long branch when they managed to climb too close. He had run out of water and drunk his own piss out of thirst. Their screams had made him think he was going insane. Vera nudged his shoulder. "You want to stay alert honey. The boss says we're only a few miles away." Jonah heard the slight sarcasm in her voice, but it was only slight. In less then a day, David and Mark had taken over, and with good reason. Jonah hated and feared Mark, and he thought that David was controlling, but without those two, people would have died. They kicked into leadership mode when the rest of them had been cowering in their tents, too terrified of the crazies to defend themselves. Jonah felt a rush of guilt. Mark was a hero, Mark had saved their lives. How could he even think about trying to turn the others against him? Jonah was caught. If he told anyone about what Mark did, then the camp would be in chaos again. Vera and the woman would defend him, and possibly Davis or the Doc. David's authority would be undermined, the camp would fight and be filled with turmoil. People could get hurt. Better he not tell anybody. Better that everyone stayed safe and sane. It was just sex, Mark wouldn't hurt him, would he? Jonah had to choke down the sobs, and try to make himself forget how afraid he had been, the sting of Mark's slap on his cheek, the low threatening growl of his voice. In a very small way, Jonah was almost grateful that the crazies had attacked. No one had gotten hurt, but no one bothered him about how much he was crying. Everyone had broken down in some way. David came back from the drivers compartment, his face was grim. "My best shooters are Jess, Mark, Annette, and Melvin. The next best are Bert, Davis, Vera, Jonah, and Janet. The rest of you are a liability at best, and a danger at worst. Those I didn't name will run out in a circle and STAY near the RV no matter what. My best shooters will be with me, and we will run out and stay about ten meters behind the rickety wooden fence. If they get that close, the fence will get them caught up. They are stupid motherfuckers." "Davis will be in charge of the second best. There were about thirty when we were there. You will be about fifty meters behind us, and when we retreat, you will shoot while we run back behind you to reload. We should be able to get rid of a lot in the first volley, at least half. This is dangerous, and everyone needs to be with me. Do not shoot if one of us is in the way. If one of us dies of friendly fire, it will be on your conscious forever." His eyes were cold and dead. Jonah shivered. "If we pull back to the RV, hopefully their numbers will be reduced to very few, and we can shoot them through the screen door, or lure them to the bedroom windows and shoot them there. They are strong crazy motherfuckers, so be careful." The RV pulled to a stop as they were loading their guns. The best shooters had the best guns, assault rifles. The second best had a mixture of hunting rifles and Bert had a shotgun. The last shooters, Jenna, Harold, the Doc, and despite Jenna's protests, Stacey, had handguns. They hopped out of the RV. --- The best shooters managed to run about 200 meters to the rickety fence without the milling group of crazies noticing. Thirty or so crazies were wandering around the carcass of a horse. Two were kneeling and tearing away pieces of it and shoving it in their mouths. All of them had blood on their mouths. Who knew how long they had been wandering aimlessly around the horse, feeding when they were hungry, squabbling with themselves. The rest of the livestock had either run away or already been killed. Jonah moaned when the first bullets fired, taking out three crazies and making the herd run to the best shooters. A few more crazies ran from the barn, and one came out of the shoulder-high corn. A two volleys of shots rang out among the best shooters, each volley brought down four or five of the crazies. Then it was just wild shooting. More of the crazies fell. Melvin and Annette ran first, out of Ammo and too afraid to reload with crazies running towards them. The terror on their faces was surreal. David was the last one to break ranks, reloading when a ragged band of crazies was barely fifty meters away. Then he ran, his combat boots hitting the ground and sending up puffs of dust. Jonah ran forward with his hunting rifle and shot two rounds. One missed, but the other hit a crazy in the stomach and brought it down. The noise was deafening. Shots went wild, but the first attack had decimated the crazies, and only eight from the first group were still running. The best shooters were suddenly with the second-best, reloaded and ready. The last crazy from the first group died a good forty yards away, shot by both Mark and Davis. There were four crazies, two from the barn and two from the feilds still running, but David with his lazer scope, picked them off one by one. Standing in the dusty grass, panting, ears ringing, they all burst into elated, crazed laughter. --- It wasn't over yet. Dragging the bodies was a chore for everyone, and even the best shooters had to roll up their sleeves and don rubber gloves and drag the bodies over to the road. The survivors put them in a ditch about half a mile from the farmhouse. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves. Maybe they were safer from crazies out here, but what about looters? A fire would not be a good idea, or a biohazard of rotting bodies too close to the water source. That was a piece of magnificent luck. Even in his mood, Jonah was overjoyed by the find. The farm had a windmill-driven pump, and a storage tank full of fresh clean ice-cold water. All of the taps and spigots in the house worked, even the showers and toilets, though there was no longer hot water. The occupants of the house were a mystery, because any framed photo's had been taken. There were paler patches on the rose silk wallpaper where photos had been taken away. From the rooms and clothes, it looked like an older couple. They had run away, taking clothes and pictures and maybe some food and camping gear, but they had left a massive cellar behind. Jonah went with the rest of them. They held a hissing Coleman lantern and they exclaimed and pushed and shoved in the small space. "Canned fruit! Oh I miss having fruit so much! There are peaches and pears and..." "Shit, look at this! It's a whole fucking ham in a can! I didn't even know they DID that..." "There must be enough Dinty Moore beef stew to last a person a lifetime..." Vera was given the job of documenting all of the amazing goods they found in the cellar. She nodded and got to work, smiling the whole time. They felt rich. There was really no other way of putting it. After days of watching their dwindling supplies and eating charred squirrel to flesh out their rations, the cellar was a godsend. Jonah helped unpack. Mark was keeping watch on the roof, so he felt a little safer. He asked Janet if he could share the guest room with her and Annette and Ned. They seemed a little surprised, but gracious. Jonah felt a throb of relief. Mark wouldn't bother him if he was with someone else, would he? --- That night they were eating a meal of baked beans, ham, canned peaches, and heated up pie filling for dessert. It felt so good to eat second helpings. Vera was passing around the list, and that just lifted spirits more. Rationing would start tomorrow, they didn't want to squander it all away, but just to know that they had enough food to last them for months was a cheerful thought. David broke the schedule to them gently. He wanted two people on watch every minute of the day, in four hour shifts. They would have the best guns, and a small air horn that they had found in the cellar. One blast on the air horn would mean people, two would mean crazies. Guns would be put near windows and the two doors. "If any of the cows or horses wander back, put 'em in the barn. We can figure out how to butcher and preserve 'em." That led to a lazy argument about the usefulness of a horse, but Jonah wasn't listening. He was wondering wether or not to volunteer for the first shift. He was tired, but if he volunteered first, Mark might try to be his partner for four hours, and he couldn't handle that. Harold and Mark ended up taking the first shift, and Jonah set up a sleeping bag on the thick shaggy rug, exhausted and determined to have good nights sleep. ------------- Jonah woke up, and with some surprise. He hadn't suffered a single bad dream, and he had slept the whole night through. Weak sunshine filtered through the window, it was very cloudy outside, and it looked like it would rain soon. Jonah's bladder felt tight and full. He got up, trying not to wake anyone. Janet and Annette were sleeping soundly, and in sleep Annette looked younger and prettier, while Janet looked almost like a child. Ned slept between them, looking angelic. Jonah considered putting on pants, but he decided that he was fine in his sleep-shirt. After all, he was only going to take a leak... He snuck past the upstairs bathroom They had found out last night that the upper floor bathroom didn't work very well. There were three bedrooms upstairs. Bert, Jenna, and their children slept in the one with two double beds. David, Mark, Jess, and the Doc shared the other. Vera and Davis slept in a tiny attic room on the army cot for privacy. Melvin and Harold slept on a cot and a sleeping bag in the den. The den was a tiny room with a desk and several mounted animal heads. Despite the evidence that the former resident had been an avid deer and grouse hunter, there was no sign of any of his ammo or guns. He had obviously thought that those were important enough to bring, if not a larger stash of food. It looked like no one was up, so Jonah went outside to see who was on watch. He waved up at Davis and the Doc, who waved back, but didn't say anything. They both looked tired and cranky, so Jonah went back in to take care of business and take a snooze. He stepped inside the doorway and turned to close the door. When he turned back around, Mark was standing right there. Jonah nearly screamed but the burly young man reached out with both hands. One clamped over his mouth, and the other clamped over his throat. A sudden and shocking lack of air. A terrible pressure on his windpipe. His handsome southern face an inch from his, smelling breath mints and body odor. He leaned closer, and as Jonah's body burned up all of the oxygen in his lungs with the adrenaline and shock of the attack, Mark whispered in his ear. "Bad little queerboy. Maybe you didn't get it through your skull the first time, but I am a man, and I have needs. You are a queer, and you are gonna satisfy my needs. Every day, and twice a day if I want it." Jonah struggled weakly, his hands feebly batting at Mark's arms, growing lightheaded. "You gonna listen to me now? You gonna be a good little queer? If you make a noise, I'm gonna fucking choke you." Mark released his throat and mouth and Jonah dropped to his knees on the soft green rag-rug in the entryway. His first shuddering gulp of oxygen made him weak as every muscle relaxed. He took another desperate gulp of oxygen, his face red and streaming with tears. Mark yanked him up by the arm and put his hand gently on Jonah's throbbing throat. "Gonna be good to me queer? Answer me you little fucker." Jonah nodded, crying and gasping for air. Mark shushed him and dragged him by his wrist into the cellar. It was dark, and Jonah stumbled. The door closed behind him as he crept down the wooden stairs. He took three more steps, whimpering and taking fast hot pants of air down his sore throat. Mark's hands appeared on his shoulders in the dark, and shoved him down to his knees on the oily dirt floor. A moment of fumbling, and Mark's cock was in his mouth. It was hard as a rock, and it only took him ten thrusts into Jonah's open mouth to come. Jonah was choking and crying and trying to wipe the come off of his face. Mark's hand squeezed his jaw. "You okay queerboy?" His voice was soft and gentle again. He could have been a boyfriend, gently saying that he had a great time, or asking him how he wanted his eggs in the morning. Jonah tried to talk, but he couldn't. His voice was too shaky. He cringed, waiting for Mark to hit him again, but Mark never did. Mark just kept stroking the side of his face, waiting for him to stammer the words out. Jonah hadn't stammered once before Mark. Already the stress and the fear was turning his words into things that could choke him. He longed for that gentle touch, needed it. Mark was crazy. Mark was playing good cop and bad cop with one man. There was nice Mark and nasty Mark. Jonah leaned into his hand and nodded, so Mark could know that he had nodded. "Good boy... That's a good boy." Jonah started to cry a little as the large strong man rubbed his hand over Jonah's cheek. This was a fantasy of his. A big muscular man crooning to him while he sucked the man off. But now it was just perverted and frightening and unwilling and wrong. "Here. I found it in the drawer." Jonah fumbled with a flat plastic case. "It's cover-up. You know how to put on makeup, right boy?" Mark was putting his cock back in his pants. Jonah whispered "yes" in a very small voice. "I knew it, all queers know that shit. Put that on your little neck when you go upstairs. Or we are going to have a bit of an argument." As he said those words, he ran his fingers gently down Jonah's bruised throat. "Got it?" "Yes Mark." Jonah whimpered. Mark was suddenly clomping up the stairs. "And sleep somewhere else. Ask if you can sleep in the RV." Every part of Jonah wanted to deny him, and defy him. But the deeper part of him, the survival part of him knew that he just had to keep Mark happy. It was the only way that everyone would be okay. David was an amazing new leader. If Mark was compromised, David would be compromised. If the camp turned against each other, hell would break loose. He couldn't let someone get hurt because he was afraid of a few bruises. That's what he told himself. His voice still came out in a weak little sob when he whispered. "Yes Mark." --- David really was a good leader. Five minutes after Jonah put makeup on the red marks on his neck, he went around calling for people to meet down in the kitchen, even those on the roof. "We need to keep busy. I was in Iraq for four years, and I saw people get crazy when they had to go out and do terrible shit, and then just sit at their tent and stare at a book for hours. There are plenty of jobs to do, and I want everyone to be doing them. There will be KP, cleanup duty, firewood collecting, digging and filling in latrines, watch duty, laundry. Hell, might as well throw in learning how to take care of the crop. It's too big for us to handle, even if all seventeen of us were to work the field by hand, we wouldn't be able to do the job of one man with a tractor." "However, the canned food wont last forever, and we need to learn how to live off the land. It doesn't seem like a priority now, because even if we run out of food, there are still supermarkets that haven't been looted, but they will be. We gotta learn how to be dependent on ourselves." With that short speech, he started dividing up duty. The laundry team was unchanged, Jonah, the women and Davis. Stacy would babysit the kids and they would be on meal duty with Jess to help them out. It surprised people when he volunteered, but with a strait face, he said that he liked to cook. Harold and Melvin were on firewood-collecting. The Doc and Mark were digging a latrine. Everyone was disappointed when David told them no more using the running toilet. "It runs to a septic tank, and we have no way of emptying it once it's full. We can use that tank for about a hundred shits, but we have no way of knowing if it's full because the electric indicator isn't on. The only way we'd know if it's full is if shit started leaking downhill from where it's buried not ten feet from the house." David and Bert were on the roof for that four-hour shift. Everyone else got to work. --- When everyone came back for lunch, they were starving. It felt good to work, to do something. It smelled pretty ripe though, most of them hadn't taken baths for two days, and with the hard exertion, you could really smell it. David said that it would be better to use the river, because it was already warm from the sun and they wouldn't have to heat any of the cold well-water with the firewood that had been laboriously collected. Alone at the End of the World They went down to the river in groups, one person guarding with a gun while the others stripped and changed. All of the women plus Stacy went in one group, Mark, Davis, Jess, and Jonah went in another group, and the rest of the men plus the boys went in the last group. Jonah was scared. He had makeup covering the bruises on his neck. He didn't want it to wash away. He had done everything in his power to be in the group that Mark wasn't in, but it didn't work, and he didn't want to make a scene. Down at the river, the banks were wide, and the current was slow. The bottom was gunky and soft, but the women said that there hadn't been any leeches, which was one good thing anyway... The water was cool, and it felt good on their dirty skin. Jonah walked a little ways away, stripped hastily and plunged neck-deep into the gentle current, his feet sinking ankle-deep into the soft mud and water plants. His eyes closed with the bliss of being able to put his entire body in the water. He scrubbed himself with a bit of his soft soap that he had put in an old sock. The sock let suds come out, but prevented the soap from washing away in the stream. When he walked out onto the soft sandy bank, he actually felt lighter. His hair felt wet and clean, and his skin felt smooth and free of dirt. He walked to his little pile of fresh clothes and started to put them on, enjoying the feel of the clean cotton on his damp cool skin. When he had put on his shoes and grabbed his soap-sock, he started heading back for the others, and stopped dead in his tracks. Mark had been watching him from the bushes. He had rinsed, but not used soap, his blonde hair was still greasy. He had a cold little smile on his face, and suddenly Jonah felt so violated. It wasn't enough that Mark had used him twice, or that he was going to be used some more, Mark had to watch him when he was at his most vulnerable. Jonah averted his eyes, feeling painful scared heat in his cheeks and stinging tears gathering in his eyes. He walked past Mark, and let out a little squeal when Mark gave his ass a firm squeeze and a pat. "Good boy..." Mark muttered, chuckling low in his throat. The four of them headed back to the clearing, Davis and Jess completely oblivious to what had happened. --- There was a brief argument about the next watch. Jonah volunteered, and David asked Bert to do the shift with him. Bert scowled at the thin tired-looking teenager. "Find someone else. This fucking queer wont get to me." "Shut the fuck up Bert." Jonah nearly jumped. He hadn't expected anyone to stand up for him, and even if someone had, he would have bet on Vera, or maybe Annette, not Jess. "I'll do another shift. I don't mind David." Jess looked so serious. Jess was a valuable member of their group. He hunted, had brought most of the original weapons, and he was one of the best shooters. Bert didn't have the balls to call him any names. Jonah was unsure about Jess. Jess had been the man who rescued him not once, but twice, but they had never shared more then half a dozen words. He had assumed that Jess hated him after everyone learned about his sexuality, but Jess had never insulted him, never treated him badly. And now, Jess was defending him. Jonah shrugged and picked his favorite hunting gun from the little arsenal. If there were going to be sides, at least Jess was on his. --- They clambered on the roof through the window, relieving Annette and Janet. They had set up a more comfortable spot with two lawn chairs and a wide picnic umbrella with the plastic base weighed down with a few bricks. They sat on the chairs facing back to back so they could see the most area, and for at least half an hour it was very quiet. Jonah liked how peaceful it was. He felt a great tension loosen up in him, and he was able to relax. Jess didn't try to make conversation, so it was quiet, but not awkward. They watched David and a small group of the others go through the cornrows with hoes, slashing at the shrub-sized weeds. Another group followed with buckets of water, putting a splash at the loosened dirt at the base of every corn plant. It was hot sticky work, and Jonah couldn't help feeling a bit of guilty pleasure at being stuck up in the lawn chairs under a bit of shade. He flinched a little when Jess spoke. "That Mark guy, is he bothering you?" Jonah cringed a little and whispered. "Yeah, but don't tell anyone, please!" Jess was quiet for another moment. "This is a big fuckin' mess. Those two helped us out, so even if they are douche-bags we cant stop them." Jonah was surprised. Jess had seen the heart of the problem immediately. "That's why no one can know. Please Jess, promise you wont tell! He isn't hurting me!" Jonah's throat throbbed gently as the lie left his lips. "I wont tell anybody now... but this can't go on. It's only a matter of time before they start bothering the women, before David starts in... It's just gonna get worse. They have us all by the short hairs, and we need them." Jonah turned around and saw that Jess had a frustrated helpless look on his face. He couldn't think of a way out of it either. "Jess?" "Hm?" "I just... I just wanted to thank you. I never thanked you, but you've saved me more then once." For a moment Jess was silent. "You're welcome Jonah." --- That night dinner was amazing. Everyone was starving from the hard work in the fields. Several of them nursed blisters on hands and feet, and others had chafing and sore muscles. The Doc had collected all of the medical supplies in the house (The first-aid kit had been taken, but the farmer still had a collection of over-the-counter medicine and bandages) and he dispensed band-aids and sore-muscle rub and disinfecting wipes for their blisters. Stacy and the kids had cooked up canned-meat burgers and used fresh-made bread for buns. The meal went with white asparagus, mixed fruit, and canned butterscotch pudding. Ice-cold lemonade made with well-water and drink powder and sugar washed it all down. Jonah enjoyed the meal immensely, but right after he asked David in a soft voice if it was okay for him to sleep in the RV. David glanced at Mark and said it was alright. Jonah moved his things into the bedroom that Vera and Davis had slept in. It still smelled stale, like seventeen people crammed into a tiny place. It was dark, and lonely. For a moment, Jonah felt sick. He sat down on the bed and moaned, clutching his stomach. How had it come to this? Two months ago, his biggest worries had been studying, and student loans. Now he was hiding in a smelly RV, waiting to be sexually abused so that a small group of survivors wouldn't get hurt by insane human beings. Jonah flinched when the RV door opened. "Hey boy... That's a good boy, come on out." Mark was standing in the doorway, a bottle of beer loosely clutched in his fist. He wasn't drunk though, not yet. Jonah cringed by the curtain that covered the doorway to the bedroom. Right now, he was being Nice Mark. He smiled gently, and he almost looked sweet. He waved Jonah over to him, and when Jonah was close, he made the sudden ugly turn to Nasty Mark. Jonah cried out when Mark hit him. The older man moved so fast that Jonah hadn't had time to tense up or defend himself. Mark's knee went up into his stomach, and Jonah's back had been against a wall, so the blow went deep and hard into his unclenched stomach. Jonah fell to the ground, curling up on his side and breathing in desperate shallow gasps, his stomach hurt and spasming. Mark knelt down and suddenly he was Nice Mark again. Jonah gasped and cried as Mark ran a gentle and soothing hand up and down his side. His voice was a gentle little murmur. "When I come into the RV, you will be here, waiting for me on your knees, do you understand that queerboy? Answer me..." His words were still kind and soft, but with the last two, his hand turned into a rough and clenching grip on Jonah's wrist. Jonah let out a scared hurt little cry as Mark twisted his wrist. "Yes Mark!" He sobbed. It had all happened so fast. He was curled up on the ground and Mark was hurting him. Humiliation and shame meant nothing, he just wanted the hurting to stop. Mark let go, and his gentle stroking commenced. Jonah moaned softly with pain, holding his bruised stomach and struggling not to vomit. Mark didn't let him get his feet under him again. Mark straddled his throat and unbuckled his belt. He pulled out his cock, which was rock-hard from abusing and coercing a young frightened boy. He rubbed his cock all over Jonah's face, feeling spit and tears on his hot throbbing cock. "Open your mouth, you stupid little cunt. If you puke on me, I'll kill you." Jonah opened his trembling mouth. It was dark, and Mark's profile was blurred with tears. --- It was finished. Jonah had Mark's come on his face, and Mark had forced him to jerk off and come on himself. Jonah was so scared and hurt and cowed that all he did was cringe from Mark when the older man hawked and spat on his face. Jonah was afraid to move, afraid to look at him, afraid to cry. His curled-up body trembled with fear. Mark stood up, and watched the half-naked bundle at his feet cower and let out muffled whimpers. He kicked Jonah and left the RV. Jonah cried and cried and cried. He scrubbed his body with a washcloth until his skin was raw and red, and then he went facedown on the bed and cried some more. Mark was a clever bastard. He knew that the more he abused Jonah, the more afraid Jonah was of him. Jonah was at the point where he'd rather die then have anyone know about how Mark used him. Jonah was cowed, and too afraid to fight back or expose him. Jonah was at the point where he would take any abuse, just to make sure that Mark didn't hurt him worse. Jonah finally slept, his eyes swollen and hot and red. He had nightmares about crazies. --- Jonah was very good at hiding what Mark did to him every night. He hid it from his friends, from Jess, even from himself, to a certain extent. It was very easy, during the day anyway, to tell himself that it was just a blowjob, and that a few blowjobs was a small price to pay for good leadership. It was harder to ignore how little sleep he was getting from nightmares, or that he spent almost half an hour at the cracked RV mirror every morning to cover his bruises with the makeup, or the faint sick feeling in his stomach whenever Mark was in the same room. Jonah was cheerful and happy whenever he did his chores. He sympathized and joked and laughed with the women when he did laundry with them. Him and Jess became good friends, and Jess helped him out by choosing Jonah as his watch partner, so he never had to take a watch with Mark. It was an unspoken fact that with every day, crazies became less of an issue. It had been forty-five days since the initial infection, and about twenty days since the first infected citizen had fled to Bemidji. Every day, hundreds of crazies died from infection, sickness, injuries, exposure, and shots fired from little bands of survivors. Another unspoken fact was the death of survivors. Jonah's band was a rarity. Many healthy members, no one had been killed in their group, there were partners and families, and a strong leadership, and a doctor (of sorts). Survivors had died from injuries, crazies attacks, suicides, drunken arguments, squabbles, mutinies, and food poisoning. Jonah's band had not seen another healthy human since Mark and David. --- Jonah was being sexually abused and battered every night. No matter how good he was at hiding it, someone was bound to notice. Vera noticed how pale and washed-out Jonah was. He wasn't getting a lot of sleep, and he looked tired and ill and worn-out all of the time. She thought it was because he was sleeping alone, and she tried to invite him to sleep in the attic with her and Davis. Jonah politely declined, internally flinching at the thought of what Mark would do to him if he tried to hide again. It wasn't brought up again, not for a week. --- Six days later, Jess and Jonah went fishing. Jess had found some poles and tackle in the basement, and he decided to take Jonah on a little trip, because the boy looked so worn-out. Away from the house, a good three miles from Mark and all of his cruel mind games, Jonah was finally able to relax. Jess watched him carefully as those thin shoulders relaxed and those bloodshot eyes stopped moving in wary twitches and as his mouth relaxed from it's small worried frown. "I can fish alone for a bit, are you tired?" Jonah nodded, and it took all of his self-discipline to stop himself from crying. Jess set up a fishing pole and sat on a low tree branch with his line, looking around warily for both of them while Jonah curled up and snatched a few hours of deep restful sleep. When Jess gently shook Jonah awake, the sun was starting to set, four hours had passed, and a dozen silvery fish dangled from a line that he had strung through their gills. Jonah was upset that Jess hadn't woken him up, but only a little. He whispered 'Thank y-you' in a timid little voice and they walked back to the house together. Jonah spoke very little now. He had developed a nervous stutter that made it hard for him to get words out. --- Jonah worked on his garden. There had been a garden patch already, but the birds and deer had torn it apart without anyone to watch it. The garden was Jonah's baby. He had always had a green thumb, and the shed had plenty of seeds and sets. Jonah planted sweet corn and lettuce and tomatoes and turnips and pumpkins. He fertilized them from the RV's septic tank (it was filthy work, and everyone thought he was crazy), and watered them twice a day. He weeded tirelessly, and the first tiny green shoots were appearing. He was putting in little tipis of sticks over the tomato shoots when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He froze, and he felt a cold pang of terror in the pit of his stomach. "Hey Jonah, lets go into the RV, I wanna talk." He was nice Mark. He sounded so friendly. Jonah looked down at his hands in the dirt-caked pink work gloves. They were shaking. He nodded, knowing that if he tried to speak, the words wouldn't come out. --- Sweat made his t-shirt cling to him, and made his hair stick to the back of his neck, but Jonah felt so cold. Mark was sitting on the RV couch, looking at him with that look that managed to be cruel and kind and derisive at the same time. "You look hot. Close the door, and take off your clothes." His eyes were gleaming. This wasn't his style. Mark liked to be sucked off in the dark, this was new, and frightening. Jonah opened his mouth, and then shut it. His tightly closed lips were pale and trembling. He closed his eyes, and hot tears leaked from over the lids as he clumsily peeled off his sweaty shirt. His arms were brown, and his chest was so pale. He had a purple welt on his ribs, and a bruise over his left nipple. Mark was getting rougher and rougher. He kicked off his tennis shoes, and unbuckled his belt. His shorts fell to his ankles in a muted jingle. Mark stood up and Jonah flinched. He was scared. Part of him desperately hoped that someone would burst in, see what was happening. A trickle of sweat ran down the small of his back, and got sopped up by the waistband of his underwear. Jonah saw the hand coming, and he lifted his own arm to try and ward it off. Mark's swinging arm clouted him on the side of the head, and he tripped over the shorts puddled around his ankles. Jonah fell on his side on the ratty carpet, the air knocked out of him, not hurt, but dazed. All of the sounds seemed to have been muted. Jonah looked up at Mark, and Mark seemed to be moving in slow motion. Mark had steel-toed combat boots on. The next blow hit his ear, and the pain was sudden and blooming and enormous. Jonah's mouth opened in a soundless breathless shriek. Mark was tugging off his underwear, rubbing something thick and greasy between his buttocks. Mark was tugging his arms behind him, mashing his face into the filthy carpet, but Jonah couldn't struggle, couldn't resist. Jonah managed to let out one sobbing cry as Mark grabbed his hips and plunged his cock deep in Jonah's ass. Jonah was greased up, but something inside of him ripped at the sudden and brutal invasion. Mark grabbed Jonah's sweaty shirt and pressed the wadded fabric against Jonah's wide sobbing mouth. Jonah was dazed and hurting and so confused. His chest heaved air in uneven breathless gasps. His nose was clogged, and Mark was gagging his mouth. His vision darkened and thinned as he pulled in air desperately. Mark had his hands around Jonah's throat, throttling him as he fucked him. Jonah closed his eyes, feeling consciousness waver down to a blurry slice of light behind his swelling eyelids. Jonah couldn't feel his ass anymore. It was over. What had happened? Everything was a blur of pain and garbled sounds. Mark was in front of him. Jonah shrank away, feeling pain murmur and shriek up his body from a dozen bruises and strained muscles. Mark was breathing heavily, but Jonah couldn't hear it. The only reason he knew was because Mark's mouth was open wide and he could feel the stinky damp warmth of it against his cheek. His fly was open and his cock hung limp and swinging, shiny with grease and blood. Mark lifted him up onto the RV couch. Jonah let out a hurt little whimper, but he could barely hear himself. It was as if the sound was coming from far away. He felt so numb. He was trying to remember what happened, but it was mostly a blank. He knew that Mark had raped him, kicked him, choked him, but he couldn't bring up the memories of it actually happening. Mark was in front of his dazed weeping eyes again, and Mark looked worried. His handsome face looked weak and old and worried. He had a wet rag in his hand. He wiped the side of Jonah's face with it. Jonah could barely feel the lukewarm damp of the rag. The rag came away red. That started to wake Jonah from his stupor. He started to let out gibbering moans. Half-formed words that ran together in a high-pitched strained whimper. He couldn't hear himself, barely hear himself. Mark snarled at him, and the words sounded like they had come from the bottom of a deep dry well. "Shut the fuck up queer." Jonah shut up. He was so terrified of Mark. Mark had done something to him, damaged him somehow. His left ear was starting to send pain-messages to his confused brain. The pain was huge and overwhelming. Mark stayed there, looking grim, wiping his ear and ass with the wet rag. Sopping up the blood. Jonah finally blacked out, and was deeply grateful for it. --- Jonah woke up, and it was dark outside. His body was so stiff. His mouth was a dry gritty pit. His throat felt swollen. His eyes were grainy and hot and aching. His ear was numb. His ass was throbbing, and hurt so bad. Jonah forced himself to sit up. He had been lying naked on the couch, covered by a ratty blanket. His body was dripping with sweat. When he sat up, he was so dizzy that he fell down again. Something was wrong, he couldn't balance. The left side of his head felt heavy, and numb. Jonah tried again, and he lurched to the tiny bathroom, sobbing with the pain of his stiff body. He looked in the mirror, stunned. His left ear, and his hair, and all down the side of his neck was crusted with blood. His left eye was bruised and swollen. His thin face was pale and frightened. He could make out several small dark bruises like a cluster of ripe grapes just above his collarbone, where Mark's fingers had dug in. He had bruises on his chest and stomach. His genitals were small and soft, nestled in his soft black pubic hair. His cock hurt, and there was a dark bruise on the side. He could see something dark on his inner thighs, but the mirror wasn't long enough to let him see. Alone at the End of the World Jonah gingerly brushed his fingers along his inner thighs, feeling tender bruised skin and crusted flakes of dried blood. He stumbled back out to the couch, and saw his clothes on the floor. He bent over to pick them up, lost balance, and fell to the ground. He started to cry very quietly. Jonah wasn't stupid. He had been in college for a nursing degree. Mark had damaged his eardrum, maybe permanently. He was dizzy because the eardrum also regulated equilibrium. Mark had damaged his hearing and sense of balance. Mark had brutally raped him, and choked him. He couldn't hide this anymore, but if he tried to tell, Mark would kill him. It was only a matter of time. Jonah moved slowly and disjointedly. He was very pale, and he whimpered softly with pain the entire time. He walked to his room and put on a fresh pair of clothes. The cloth felt clean and cool on his bruised and sweaty body. He found a backpack that he used to carry the detergent out to the stream when they did laundry. He started to pack. He packed another shirt and a pair of briefs and a clean pair of socks. He rolled up a thick comforter to use as a bedroll and tied it under the backpack. He took a half-gallon milk carton and filled it with fresh water. With the cellar filled with food, they had never moved the cache of canned goods in the RV. Jonah packed the last three cans of soup, two cans of chili, and three cans of baked beans. He took the biggest knife from the kitchen and tied it to his belt loop after making a clumsy sheath out of duct tape. As a last step, he put a spoon in one pocket and a pack of matches in the other. He stood at the doorway of the RV and was filled with sudden doubt. The doubts were swept away when he nearly fell over. Mark wasn't averse to permanently damaging his senses, Mark wouldn't be averse to hurting him even worse next time. He opened the door of the RV. The door faced away from the house, and the cornfield was only a couple hundred yards away. It would be dangerous, but not as dangerous as staying here. He looked up at the roof of the house through one of the RV windows. It was Melvin and Harold, and they were arguing about something. It wouldn't get any easier then this. Jonah slipped out to the cornfield, weaving and stumbling and unseen. The cornfield itself was very short, and he was in the woods in no time. He found the road and walked parallel to it, but a little ways into the woods, easier to hide if looters came along. He cried while he walked, but he never looked back. * *That's part one, two more parts to go. Almost done with part two, but it might be a wait for part three. I want to apologize if the zombie bits seem rushed. I was intrigued by the idea of the interaction between characters, not necessarily the zombie apocalypse itself. Unfortunately (but understandably) most zombie movies focus on the latter.*