Till The World Ends: Dawn of Eden / Thistle & Thorne / Sun Storm

“Disease?” My mind was spinning. “Ben, what are those things? I just watched my dead patients come back to life and attack me! Are they...some sort of zombies?” The words sounded ridiculous out loud, but what else could I think? I’d only seen this happen in horror movies.

“No.” Ben rubbed the stubble on his chin, clearly uncomfortable. “Not...zombies. From what I understand, they’re more of a hybrid. Of human, and...” He trailed off, bring his lip.

“And?” I prompted.

“Vampire.”

Ben grimaced, even as he said the word. I blinked. The implication hung between us, impossible. Ridiculous. Vampires didn’t exist. They were movie monsters, Halloween costumes. Never mind that a second ago I’d seriously considered the zombie apocalypse. My logical doctor’s brain scoffed at the idea of fanged, undead creatures that came out at night and drank the blood of the living to survive.

And yet...I’d been attacked by people who had died. I’d seen the corpses, lying in their beds that very afternoon, before they’d sprung to life. Corpses that moved at lethal, frightening speeds. That had ripped apart two humans as easily as paper, that had smelled of death and rot and decay. Corpses that had fangs.

“Vampires,” I said slowly, still trying to decide what I thought about this, whether to accept, question or scoff at the claim. “You mean...like Dracula? The drinking-blood, turn-into-bats kind?”

Ben sighed. “I know how it sounds,” he muttered. “And that’s why I couldn’t tell you before. You would’ve thought I was insane. But...yes, vampires are real. They don’t turn into bats or wolves or mist, as far as I know, but everything else—the drinking blood, the coming out at night—it’s all true.” My face must’ve betrayed my disbelief, because he shook his head. “I know. When Nathan told me, I thought the chemicals in the lab were affecting his brain. I told him he needed help. But then he showed me, once, what they were keeping behind closed doors.” He visibly shivered. “And that was enough to convince me.”

“Why...” I couldn’t believe I was asking this. “Why were they keeping vampires down there, anyway? I thought you said Nathan was part of a team searching for a cure.”

“He was. And they were.” Ben looked disturbed now, his brows drawn together in a frown. “I didn’t get this out of Nathan until later, but...they were experimenting on the vampires. They were using vampire blood to try to develop the cure.”

“Why?”

“Because vampires were immune to the Red Lung virus,” Ben replied solemnly. “Nathan told me they didn’t know if it was because the vampires were, technically, dead, but none of the specimens they acquired could be infected with the virus. They were hoping to duplicate the vampire’s natural immunity to disease into something that could combat Red Lung.” His gaze darkened, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “But something went wrong,” he said in a near whisper. “The virus mutated. The ‘cure’ they gave infected patients—human patients—killed them. And turned them into those...things.” He shuddered, running a hand through his hair. “I was there the night they escaped. No one knows how it happened, but Nathan was attacked, bitten. Everything was chaos. We got out, came here. But I had no idea the mutated virus was airborne, that it would spread just like Red Lung.”

“Then...” My stomach felt cold as the implication of what he was really saying hit me like a load of bricks. The virus was airborne, seeping across the country like a spill of blood. “Then, you’re saying that everyone who is already infected with the Red Lung virus...”

Ben didn’t meet my gaze. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His face was ashen, and for a moment, I thought he might actually pass out.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “What have I done? What have we done, Nate?”

My hands were shaking. I clenched them in my lap and took a deep, calming breath. I’d seen what Red Lung could do to a person, I knew how fast it spread, I’d heard how entire communities and towns had vanished off the map in the space of a week. I imagined those towns now, only instead of bodies lying in their homes, I could see pale, screaming abominations filling the roads, destroying anything they came across.

And it had started right here. With the person in the seat next to mine.

No, that wasn’t entirely fair. Ben Archer hadn’t performed those experiments on—I stumbled over the word—vampires. Ben hadn’t created the retrovirus that was spreading across the country, turning the sick into bloodthirsty undead. He wasn’t responsible for the creation of those monsters, he wasn’t even a scientist. I knew that. My doctor’s brain accepted that.

But the part of me that felt responsible for Maggie and Jenna, that had worked like a dog to save those patients, that viewed Red Lung as an enemy that had to be destroyed—that part of me hated him. He’d brought a hidden virus into my clinic, and because of him, my patients were all dead. Worse than dead, they were monsters, rabid beasts. If Ben Archer had never darkened my doorstep, they would still be alive.

My heart pounded. Anger and rage coursed through my veins, turning them hot. Ben’s shotgun lay on the seat between us; without thinking, I grabbed it and flung open the door of the truck, leaping to the pavement.

“Kylie!”

Ben scrambled after me. I heard his footsteps round the hood of the truck, and though my hands were shaking, I planted my feet, spun around and raised the muzzle of the gun, leveling it at his chest.

He stopped, raising his hands, as I took a step backward, glaring at him down the barrel.

Lightning flickered, distant now, the storm having moved on. The lingering rain felt like cold spider webs falling across my skin.

Ben took a slow, careful step forward, still keeping his hands raised. I bared my teeth and shoved the muzzle at him, and he stopped.

“Stay back!” I hissed, knowing how I must look: wild and desperate, the whites of my eyes gleaming in the darkness. I felt crazy, out of control. “You stay right there, Ben Archer. Don’t move, or I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Kylie.” His voice was low, calming, though he didn’t move from where he stood. “Don’t do this. Please. You can’t survive out there alone.”

“You,” I snarled, curling my lip back, “have no right to tell me anything! You brought this down on our heads. My patients are dead because of you! Maggie and Jenna are dead because of you! The whole city, the whole world, maybe, is going to hell. Because of you!” With every accusation, he flinched, as if my words were stones smashing into him. My throat closed up, and I took a breath to open it. “All my life,” I whispered, “I wanted to help people, save people. That’s why I became a doctor, so I could make a difference. I wanted to beat this thing, so badly. And all it took was you waltzing into my clinic with your demon friend to destroy everything I worked for!”

“Then shoot me.” He dropped his arms as he said it, regarding me with dead, hooded eyes. I blinked at him in shock, but he didn’t move. “You’re right,” he said in a quiet voice. “What we did, what happened at that lab, there’s no excuse. We unleashed something that could destroy everything. And if I...” He paused, closing his eyes. “If I deserve to die for that, if killing me will make things right for you, then...do it.” Opening his eyes, he met my gaze, sorrowful but unafraid. “If this will bring you peace,” he rasped, “for Maggie and Jenna and everyone, then do what you have to. No one will fault you for pulling that trigger.”

My arms shook, and the gun was cold in my hands, the curved edge of the metal trigger pressing into my skin. It would be so easy, I realized—a quick pull, barely a motion in itself. I gazed down the barrel at the body in the rain, my throat and chest tight, my mind spinning. No one would hear the gunshot this far from the city. And even if they did, no one would care.

Ben stood there, unmoving, the rain falling lightly around his shoulders, waiting to see if I would kill him.

God, Kylie, what are you doing? You’re really going to murder this man in cold blood? Horror, swift and abrupt, lanced through me. I was a doctor, sworn to save lives, regardless of circumstances or personal feelings. Ben had saved my life. If he hadn’t been there when those things attacked, I would be a pile of blood and bones on the clinic floor. Just like Maggie and Jenna.

And then, all the fear, frustration, sorrow and guilt of the past three days rose up like a black wave and came crashing down. Tears blinded me, my throat closed up and the world went blurry. The gun dropped from my limp grasp, falling into the mud, as, to my horror, I started to cry.

Strong arms wrapped around me a moment later, pulling me to a broad chest. For a heartbeat, anger flashed, but it was immediately drowned by everything else. I had failed. I had lost everything, not only the patients whom I had sworn to save, but my family, my friends and, very nearly, my humanity. And now, the world was filled with monsters and things I didn’t understand, I had nearly been eaten by my dead patients and I had nowhere to go, nowhere left that was familiar. I leaned into Ben and sobbed, ugly, gasping breaths that blotched my face and left the front of his shirt stained with tears.

Ben didn’t say anything, just held me as I cried myself out, the rain falling around us. My back and shoulders were cold and damp, but my arms, folded to his body, and the side of my face where his cheek pressed against mine, were very warm. Eventually, the tears stopped and my breathing became normal again, but he didn’t let me go. One arm was wound across the small of my back, the other rested near my shoulders, holding me to him. His head was bowed, and I could feel rough stubble against my cheek.

My arms, trapped against his chest and stomach, began to wind around his waist, to pull him to me as well, but I stopped myself. No, I thought, as my senses finally returned. Just because he saved you, do not excuse this man for what he has done. Jenna and Maggie are dead. If he’d never come to your clinic, they would still be alive.

I stiffened, and Ben apparently sensed the change, for he let me go. I stepped back to compose myself, wiping my face, pulling my hair back, deliberately not looking at the man beside me. Because if I glanced up and met those haunted, soulful brown eyes, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from reaching for him again.

The shotgun still lay in the mud between us, and Ben casually reached down for it, as if it had simply fallen and hadn’t been aimed at his chest a few minutes earlier. I looked at the weapon and shuddered, appalled at myself, what I had almost done.

“What now?” I whispered, rubbing my arms as the rain started to come down hard again. Ben hefted the shotgun to one shoulder, staring out into the darkness.

“I’m going home,” he said without looking back. “Back to the farm. It’s been...too long since I’ve seen everyone. If they’re still there.” He paused, then added, very softly, “You’re welcome to come with me. If you want.”

I nodded, feeling dazed. “Thanks. I...I think I will. Come with you, I mean.” He finally glanced back, eyebrows raised in surprise. I shrugged, though I was a little surprised at myself, as well. “Might as well. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

He didn’t say anything to that, and we walked back to the truck in silence. Ben pulled open the passenger door, and I slid inside, blinking as he handed me the shotgun as if nothing had happened. Shivering, I placed it on the dashboard and watched Ben use a rubber tube to siphon fuel from one of the abandoned cars into a gas can. It was a slow, tedious process, but it couldn’t be helped. Many of the everyday conveniences—like ATMs, smart phones and gas pumps—were no longer working since the plague and the collapse of society. There was no one left to keep the grids going, no one to man the towers and the internet servers. It was a wake-up call for everyone, to realize how much we relied on things like electricity, running water and easy communication, and how crippling it was to go without.

When he was done, Ben slid into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and sat there a moment, staring out the glass.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked in a near whisper, glancing at the weapon on the dashboard. “I won’t force you to come with me. I can drop you off anywhere between here and home.”

“No.” I gave my head a shake. “Like I said, I have nowhere to go. And I don’t want to be by myself right now, not with what’s happening out there. Not if those things could be spreading across the country like the plague.” Ben looked away, hunching his shoulders, and I wasn’t sorry. “I’ll figure out what to do next when we get there. If your family doesn’t mind me hanging around...”

“They won’t. Mom, especially. She’ll be thrilled I finally brought home a girl.”

That tiny bit of humor, forced as it was, finally coaxed a smile from me. I settled back against the leather seat and pulled down the seat belt, clicking it into place. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

Ben nodded. Turning the key in the ignition, he eased the truck down the ramp and onto the empty road, and we roared off toward our destination.

Chapter Six

We drove through the night, down a road that was desolate and empty, snaking through the darkness. No cars passed us, no headlights pierced the blackness but our own. Ben and I didn’t speak much, just watched the quiet, primitive world scroll by through the glass. Out here, far from cities and towns and dimly lit suburbs, it truly felt as if we were the only humans left alive. The last two people on earth.

I dozed against the window, and when I opened my eyes again, Ben was pulling into the parking lot of a small motel and shutting off the ignition. The streetlamps surrounding the lot were dead and dark but, oddly enough, a Vacancy sign flickered erratically in the window of the office.

“We’re stopping?”

“Just for a bit.” Ben opened the door, and a gust of rain-scented air dispersed my drowsiness a little. “It’s almost dawn. I need a couple hours of sleep, at least, or I’m going to drive us off the road. This looks safe enough.”

It might’ve looked safe enough, but he snatched the gun off the dashboard and handed me a flashlight before walking up to the office door. I followed closely, peering over my shoulder, shining the beam into windows and dark corners. We stepped up to the porch, and my heart pounded, imagining gaunt, pale faces peering through the windows. But they remained dark and empty.

After several moments of pounding on the office door and calling “Hello?” into the darkened interior, Ben raised the shotgun and drove the butt into the glass above the door, shattering it. Ducking inside, he emerged seconds later with a key on a wooden peg, jingling it with weary triumph. I trailed him down the walkway to a battered green door with a brass 14B on the front and watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it back. It creaked open slowly, revealing a small room with an old TV, a hideous pink-and-green armchair and a single bed.

“Damn,” I heard him mutter, and he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Sorry, I was hoping to get one with double beds. I’ll see if they have the keys to another room—”

“There’s no need.” Bringing up the flashlight, I brushed past him through the doorway. The room was stale and dusty, and the carpet probably hadn’t been cleaned in years, but at least there was no stench of death and blood and decay. “We’re both adults,” I said, attempting to be pragmatic and reasonable. “We can share a bed if we have to. And I...I’d feel better not sleeping alone tonight, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ben, I’m a doctor. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, trust me.”

My voice sounded too normal, too flippant, for what was happening outside. I felt like a deflated balloon, empty and hollow. Numb. I’d seen patients with post-traumatic stress disorder, having lost a loved one or even their whole family, and wondered if maybe I was heading down that same road. If perhaps this eerie calm and sense of detachment were the beginning.

The door clicked shut behind me, plunging the room into darkness. I whirled with the flashlight, shining the beam into Ben’s face. He flinched, turning his head, and I quickly dropped the light.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” He looked up, and I saw that his stoic mask had slipped back into place. I shivered a little. If anyone was suffering from PTSD, it was probably Ben.

I turned from that haunting gaze, shining the light toward the bathroom in the corner. “I’m...going to see if the water still works.”

He didn’t say anything to that, and I retreated to the bathroom, leaving him in the dark.

Miraculously, the water still ran, though the temperature barely got above lukewarm. I told Ben I was going to take a bath, then filled the tub halfway, sinking down into it with a sigh in the darkness. The flashlight sat upright on the sink, shining a circle of light at the ceiling, turning the room ghostly and surreal. A tiny bar of complimentary soap sat on the edge of the tub, and I scrubbed myself down furiously, as if I could wash away the horror, grief and fear along with the blood. I heard Ben stumble outside the door and felt guilty for hoarding our only light source, but after a minute or two I heard the door open and close, the lock clicking as it shut behind him.

Uncomfortable that he was going somewhere alone, I counted the seconds, the silence pressing against my eardrums. After a few minutes, though, the door creaked open again. I heard his footsteps shuffle around the room before the bed squeaked as he settled atop it, and finally stopped moving.

I finished my bath, slipped back into my dirty, disgusting clothes, and left the room, keeping the flashlight low in case Ben had gone to sleep.

He hadn’t. He was perched on the edge of the mattress with his back to me, head bowed, slumping forward. His tattered shirt lay in a heap at the foot of the bed, and the flashlight beam slid over his broad shoulders and back. As I paused on the other side of the mattress, I saw his shoulders tremble, and heard the quiet, hopeless sound of someone trying to muffle a sob.

“Ben.”

Anger forgotten, I set the flashlight down and slipped around to his side, touching a bare shoulder as I came up. A nest of bloody gauze sat on an end table, next to a bottle of peroxide. His stitches had torn open, and the claw marks were dark, thin stripes down his back.

Sympathy bloomed through me, dissolving the last of the anger as my logical doctor’s brain finally caught up with my emotions. Ben was hurting, not from his wounds, but from the guilt that was tearing him apart inside. I wasn’t quite ready to forgive what had happened to Maggie, Jenna and my patients, but I knew, really knew, that the horrible night in the clinic was not his fault. And if he hadn’t been there, I probably would have died.

“Would you...help me?” Ben didn’t even bother trying to hide the wet tracks down his cheeks, though he didn’t glance up. He gestured to the peroxide and an open first aid kit on the nightstand. “I found those in the office, but I can’t reach it on my own.”

Silently, I picked up the first aid kit and scooted behind him on the bed. His skin was cold, but the area around the slashes was puffy and hot, though it didn’t look infected. I gently wiped away the dirt and blood, watching the peroxide sizzle into the open wounds, bubbling white. Ben didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” My voice surprised me, even more that I found it true. Ben didn’t answer, and I pressed a gauze pad to the wounds, keeping my voice low and calm. “What happened back in the clinic, in the lab with Nathan, that wasn’t your fault. I just...I freaked out. I reacted badly and I’m sorry for that, Ben.”

“You have no reason to apologize,” Ben murmured. “I should have been straight with you from the beginning, but...I didn’t know what you would think. How do you explain zombies and vampires to someone without sounding like a raving lunatic?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and now I felt a tiny prick of guilt. If he had told me that in the clinic, I probably would have scoffed at the idea, or assumed he was on drugs. Whose fault was this, really? “But I should have told you,” Ben went on. “Nate...he was the smart one, the one who could explain anything and have it all make sense. In fact, I was hoping he would wake up so he could tell you what was going on. If that’s not a selfish reason...” A soft, bitter laugh, ending in a muffled sob. “It should’ve been me,” he said in a near whisper. “I should’ve been the one who died.”

“No.” I slid off the bed and walked around to face him. Crouching down, I peered at his face, putting a hand on his knee for balance. “Ben, look at me. This isn’t your fault,” I whispered again, as those tortured eyes met mine. “It isn’t Nathan’s fault. Ben, the virus is killing us. The human race is facing extinction, though no one is willing to admit it. Something had to be done.”

“Something was,” he muttered. “And now things are even worse. I don’t know if we can survive this. And just thinking that I was there when it happened, that maybe if I’d done something a little different, I could’ve stopped them from getting out—”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen.” I kept my voice calm, reasonable, my doctor’s voice. “And those scientists, they were only doing what anyone would do to save our race. We had to try something. It isn’t our nature to roll over and die without a fight.” I smiled faintly. “Humans are stubborn like that.”

He held my gaze, the light reflected in his eyes. Very slowly, as if afraid it would scare me away, he reached out and took a strand of my hair between his fingers. I held my breath, my heartbeat kicking into high gear, pulsing very loudly in my ears.

“I don’t know how you can stand to be around me,” Ben murmured, staring at his hand, at the pale strings between his fingers. “But...don’t go. Don’t leave. You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

Maggie and Jenna’s faces crowded my mind, angry and accusing. My patients rose up from the darkness to stare at me, their gazes vengeful, but I shoved those thoughts away. They were gone. They were dead, and I couldn’t honor their memory with anger and blame and hate. The world was screwed, monsters roamed the streets and I had to cling to my lifelines where I could. I was sure everything would hit me, hard, when I had the chance to breathe. But right now, I had to make sure I—we—kept breathing.

Gently, I placed a palm on his cheek, feeling rough stubble under my fingers. “We’ll get through this,” I promised him, feeling, absurdly, that I was his lifeline right now, and if I left he might take that shotgun and put the muzzle under his chin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For just a moment, Ben’s gaze grew smoldering, a dark, molten look that swallowed even the anguish on his face, before he straightened and pulled back, looking embarrassed.

Turning away, he gingerly bent to scoop up his shirt. “I’ll take the chair,” he offered in a husky voice, rising to his feet. I stood as well, frowning.

“Ben, you don’t have to—”

“Trust me.” He slipped into his shirt, grimacing. “I think I do.”

I didn’t think I would sleep, but I did drift off, listening to Ben’s quiet snores from the chair in the corner. I awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the dingy curtains and Ben emptying a bag of junk food onto the table.

“Morning,” he greeted, and though his voice was solemn, it lacked the despair of the night before. “I thought you might be hungry, so I raided the snack machines by the office. I, uh, hope you don’t mind Doritos and Twinkies for breakfast.”

I smiled and struggled to my feet, brushing my hair back. “Any Ho Hos in the bunch?” I asked, walking up to the table.

“Mmm...no, sorry.” Ben held up a package. “But I do have Zingers.”

We smiled and ate our hideously unhealthy breakfast without complaint, knowing food was an unknown equation. The days of easy access were over. Places like McDonald’s or Wendy’s, where you could just walk in and order a hot breakfast, were a thing of the past. And many of the big superstores had been raided, gutted and picked clean when the chaos began. I wondered how long it would be before things went back to normal. I wondered if things would ever go back to normal.