The End of Everything (Book 7): The End of Everything Read online

  “Don’t ask me. I just know if we don’t start heading back soon, it will be getting dark, and we’ll get lost again.” Wren stood up from the log and reached down to give Robyn a hand up.

  “Thanks,” she said, climbing to her feet. “What’s happening?”

  “You’re acting really weird today.”

  Robyn just stood there for a moment looking at her sister. “I … I lost my bow … and my boot.”

  Wren looked down then looked behind her. “Err … your boots are on your feet, and your bow’s on the log.”

  “No, I—” Robyn looked down to see both boots. She looked behind her to see her bow. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I dunno, but you’re starting to creep me out. You haven’t been picking your own mushrooms, have you? I’ve told you, you should wait until I’m around. It can be really dangerous.”

  “No. I’m just feeling really confused. Way to be compassionate.”

  “Oh God! Now I am worried. When did you start using four-syllable words? This is like that film we saw. Y’know, that family that went on vacation to that cabin, and it turned out it was a UFO hotspot and one by one they got replaced by replicants. If I cut you are you going to bleed green blood?” Wren started laughing to herself.

  “Stop being such a bitch. I don’t understand what’s going on.” Tears started to form in Robyn’s eyes.

  “God! Can’t you take a joke?”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “Oh, come on, what is there not to laugh at?”

  “Err … try everything. I don’t feel right in my head.”

  “Maybe some exercise will do you good.” Wren led the way as they started their hike through the forest.

  Robyn kept checking herself, still baffled. She had been in the water. The pain had been so real. Was it just a weird dream? Was she dreaming now?”

  “I don’t recognise any of this. Where are we?”

  “Seriously, Bobbi, if ever you and I get separated, you are in serious trouble. I’m going to have to teach you how to read a compass.”

  They were not walking for more than a minute before Pear Tree Farm came into view. “How did we get here so quick?”

  Wren stopped and turned to look at her sister. “What is going on with you today? That’s the route we take every day. I’d expect you to have remembered some of it by now.” She turned back around and carried on walking.

  Robyn just stood there looking at the old rusted tractor and the familiar outbuildings. She was even happy to see the pink smudge on the outside wall that had once glistened red with Georgie’s blood. At least this was familiar ground. She watched Wren as she casually walked across the courtyard and entered the house.

  Robyn took a deep breath and continued. The sun was beating down, it was a hot afternoon. This was just so strange; she had no recollection of the morning at all. Maybe Wren was right. Maybe she’d inadvertently eaten some weird mushrooms, maybe she was tripping. She let her fingers brush against the side of the house as she made her way to the entrance. It felt warm to the touch, hot in fact. She pushed against the door, but it was closed. Trying the handle, she soon realised it had been locked. “Oh, very funny, Wren. Come on, open up!” The door did not open, and there was no sound from inside. “Wren! I’m not kidding around,” she said, balling her hand into a fist and banging against the wood hard. “Wren! Let me in, you little stain, or I swear you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning with a shaved head! Wren! Wren!” She continued battering against the door; then she heard the bolt slide across and it gently swung open.

  “That was so funny!” Wren said from the other side of the kitchen, no way could she have opened the door and got over there. Was Georgie in on this too?

  “Come on, love, where’s your sense of humour?”

  “Dad?” Joy and fear gripped Robyn at the same time as she saw her dad, then her mum, both with broad smiles on their faces. “I—”

  “Come on, Bobbi, surely you can take a joke?” Wren said, going to stand with their mum and dad. The three figures looked towards Robyn, the smiles on their faces slowly fading as the colour began to drain from their skin.

  “What is this? What’s going on?” The joy was gone now as overwhelming fear consumed Robyn, gluing her to the spot in horror as her family transformed in front of her. “Mum! Dad! Wren!” The colour continued to fade, their skin turning greyer and greyer. The three of them closed their eyes, and when they opened again, they were not human eyes anymore but the eyes of the undead, the eyes of monsters. Robyn started to cry as the familiar growls of the infected began to rise in the back of their throats. “Mum! Dad! Wren! No! Please!” The three figures slowly started to move towards Robyn, and she backed out of the door.

  The sun had gone in now, and suddenly it wasn’t quite so warm as the three beasts carried on towards her with outstretched grasping hands. Robyn continued to cry as she reached around for an arrow only to find the quiver empty. Her eyes moved to her bow, but it wasn’t a bow any longer, it was a wreath. She looked at her family again, but now they had gone, replaced by three headstones. The farmhouse was gone too.

  She was alone in a cemetery on the side of a hill. Grey clouds were threatening rain and the red roses in the wreath began to bleed. The blood dripped over her hands, and Robyn threw the wreath down, horrified, terrified, out of control. Mum! Dad! Wren! The ground around her shook; then every headstone in the graveyard started to crumble. Grey hands sprouted up, followed by arms, shoulders, heads.

  She heard a whisper. “You left me, Bobbi. You left me, and now I’m going to die.”

  “Aaaggghhh! Nooo! Wren! Nooo!”

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER 3

  Darkness.

  Flickering light.

  Light.

  Stillness.

  Robyn could hear her own rasping breaths as her chest rose and fell. It was warm, hot, boiling. She could feel the heat in the moist air. Am I still alive? She had dreamt of Wren, her mother and her father. Was that a dream? That was her last memory. How long ago had that been? It had been followed by an extended period of nothing. My head aches. My chest hurts. What’s going on?

  Somebody’s tied me up. No, not tied, bound. I’m bound in some kind of weird constraint. What’s that smell? Food. Starving. So Hungry.

  The gang of lads! Oh no! It’s coming back to me now. I remember being dragged. They must have found me and brought me back to their place where they’re going to do God knows what to me. Need to escape. So weak though.

  Robyn erupted into a fit of coughing. Suddenly somebody was there with her—a young woman with great bone structure and short, blonde, spiky hair. “Es ist in Ordnung.”

  Must be having a stroke. Nothing makes sense. “I—”

  “Nein,” the young woman said, perching down next to Robyn. She placed a gentle hand on Robyn’s head and withdrew it again just as quickly. “Don’t try to talk. Just rest. I am making soup. You would like some soup, yes?”

  Robyn lay there staring towards the striking-looking blonde woman with strange speech patterns, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. “Yes,” she said weakly.

  “Gut. We must build up your strength.” The young woman smiled and stood once more, disappearing from Robyn’s view.

  It was a small room. There was a fire crackling somewhere behind her, and there was steam rising in a plume next to her. Robyn strained to angle her head and saw a Pyrex bowl half full of piping hot water and a mint leaf floating on top. She tried to move her arms again, but she was most definitely restrained. “Why are you keeping me here?” Robyn asked before spluttering and coughing once again.

  The young woman walked back around into Robyn’s line of sight and stood there with an amused look on her face and her hands on her hips. “Keeping you? You are free to go whenever you want.”

  “Why have you tied me up in this thing?” Robyn asked, not even having the strength to lift her head to see exactly what was confining her.


  “I have wrapped you in a blanket as tight as I can. You have been here a week. In and out, in and out of consciousness. I think you are showing signs of having lungenentzündung.” She watched as the confused look – more confused look – swept across her patient’s face. “Err…” The young woman walked across to the windowsill where a thick book was already open. “P-neu-monia.” Her finger followed the word in the book.

  “Pneumonia?” Robyn said, descending into a coughing fit once again.

  “Calm yourself. It does you no good to get excited. The steam is meant to help. I have given you honey and lemon, ibuprofen and paracetamol. I can give you more soon.” The young woman walked across and sat down on the sofa next to Robyn.

  The coughing eventually subsided. “I need to get to my sister. She’s waiting for me.”

  “You are going nowhere.”

  “That sounded like an order.”

  “No. It is just a fact. I believe you may have fractured your ankle or at the very least sprained it badly. I have bandaged it, but it is too soon to put any weight on it. Your head wound is healing well, but you have blutergüsse … err … how do you say? Bruising, yes, bruising on your ribs. I think you may have cracked them. You are in no fit state.”

  Robyn let out a sigh, and she could feel the fluid rattling around in her chest but this time avoided coughing. “Damn,” she said weakly, sadly.

  “You need to rest, build your strength. Soup now, then you sleep more.” The young woman sprang to her feet again, and a moment later, she returned with a bowl of soup and carefully perched next to Robyn once more.

  She placed a spoon into the steaming liquid, blew on it once, then fed it to her patient who greedily slurped it.

  “Good. Tastes good,” Robyn said, immediately opening her mouth for another. “What is it?”

  “Straight out of a tin, I’m afraid. Been too busy looking after you to make anything from scratch.”

  Robyn paused before taking the next spoonful. “Thank you. For all of this. Where did you find me? How did you get me here? Where is here exactly?”

  “Eat first. Then rest. Then, if you wake later and feel stronger, we talk, ja?”

  “Ja,” Robyn said, doing her best to smile before slurping another spoonful of soup. She finished the meal and settled her head back. The benevolent figure who had been looking after her disappeared out of sight and Robyn drifted off to sleep. She did wake later but was not in the mood to talk. Another prolonged bout of coughing nearly brought up her lungs.

  The young woman appeared from another room and ran to her side, placing an arm around her and raising her off the sofa a little. The thick curtains were closed, and all that lit the room was the glowing fire. “This cough, it worries me. It is getting worse.”

  Robyn tried to reply but just spluttered more. The fit carried on for several minutes and the woman disappeared out of sight again. In between coughs, Robyn could hear her by the side of the fire, pouring a liquid into a pan. The smell of lemons began to fill the air, and just as the coughing died down, the woman returned to Robyn’s side. “I’m sorry,” Robyn said, wiping her mouth.

  “Why are you sorry? You do not do this deliberately. You have no control over it.” The young woman placed a hand on Robyn’s forehead and winced a little.

  “What’s your name?” Robyn asked, her voice scratching in her throat.

  “I am Mila. And you are Wren, yes?”

  “What?”

  “You are Wren? I keep hearing you call this name out. It is your name, yes?”

  Robyn exhaled a long, rattling breath. “No. Wren is my sister. I … I need to get back to her.”

  Mila raised an eyebrow. “You will not be able to go anywhere for some time. I think at first light tomorrow, I need to try to find you antibiotics.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We can discuss this when you are better. So, are you going to tell me your name or do I have to guess?” Mila asked with a thin smile on her face.

  “Robyn. It’s Robyn,” she said, relaxing back on the sofa.

  “Robyn. Gut. Now I no longer have to refer to you as the sick girl on my couch when I am thinking about you in my head.” Mila smiled again. “I will go first thing and be back before you know it.” She disappeared out of sight again for a few seconds and returned with a steaming mug. “Now drink this. Honey and lemon. It helps.”

  “I … I really need to pee,” Robyn said.

  “Then pee. I have had you in adult diapers for the last week.”

  “Gross. I’d like to … y’know … do it in a toilet or something.”

  “A toilet? Yes, certainly, and I will have the maid bring you fresh towels.” Mila laughed and clapped her hands. “Yes, most amusing. If you feel you must, I will bring you a bucket.”

  “A bucket? I can’t wee while someone is watching me.”

  “I will turn my back.”

  “Err … or listening.”

  Mila smiled and nodded. “You British. So funny. Very well. I will bring you a bucket and leave you to make pee in peace.” She stood up and left the room only to return a moment later with a bucket. “Now drink honey and lemon, make pee and call if you need anything. I am going to bed. I will wake you before I go.”

  “Thank you, Mila.”

  Mila nodded curtly. “I promise to put cotton wool in my ears so I don’t hear the sound of your pee.” She looked long and hard at Robyn then burst out laughing, clapping her hands once more. “I joke. I won’t be listening. The walls are thick. Make sure you drink your lemon. Schlafen sie gut… Sleep well.”

  Mila turned and left Robyn, who had finally managed to shuffle out of the confines of her tightly wrapped blankets. She rolled onto her side and for the first time took in her surroundings properly. For such a small room, there was a big wrought iron, glass-fronted stove, and even though it was mainly glowing embers now, it radiated a powerful wall of heat. There were a couple of pans on the stone hearth and two big plastic sacks of smokeless coal leaning against the wall. Where was she? Who was this Mila?

  Robyn finished her lemon drink and loosened the blankets a little more. Despite the warmth of the room, she still shivered as she got out of bed, and pain shot through her leg from her ankle. Her sweat-drenched skin made her T-shirt stick to her, and body odour almost made her retch. She looked down at the adult nappy and took it off then crouched down over the bucket. She thought back to what Mila had said and smiled. She had a funny way.

  When Robyn had finished, she placed the mug on the hearth and climbed back onto the sofa. The thick blankets were damp with her perspiration, so she turned them over. The effect was only marginally better, but she was exhausted by the small amount of activity she had undertaken, and it didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “I am going now.”

  “Huh? What?” Robyn asked as her eyes flickered open. The curtains were still closed, but the room was a little lighter as more coal had been placed in the stove.

  “I said I am going,” Mila replied, handing Robyn a bowl. “Breakfast. You eat. Need to build up your strength. I have not opened the shutters. Keep the curtains closed, and you should be fine. They sometimes come … attracted by the smell. The coal is smokeless but not odourless.”

  “Who? Who comes?”

  “Who do you think? The dead people. But if they come, the shutters are thick. The door is strong. Just stay inside, and I will deal with them when I get back.”

  Robyn exploded into another coughing fit, grimacing as she held her chest in pain. When it had finished, she grabbed hold of Mila’s arm. “I don’t like you taking risks for me. Why are you doing this?”

  Mila suddenly looked a little sad. “I hope that if I was in your position, somebody would do the same for me.” She pulled Robyn’s hand from her arm and patted it gently. “Now. After soup, there is a mug of honey and lemon. Ibuprofen and paracetamol. Try to sleep. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  Mila turned, a
nd Robyn’s eyes widened a little. It was the first time she had noticed that her carer was wearing virtually the same leather trousers she used to wear. Mila walked across to a chair and picked up a leather jacket. “What? What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “I used to have virtually the same outfit.”

  Mila nodded appreciatively and smiled. “Smart. Very smart. Leather offers protection like no other material. Thick yet flexible. It has saved my life more than once.” She strapped something to her back, and at first Robyn could not make out what it was; then, as first one sword then another was carefully slid in, she realised it was some kind of cross scabbard. Mila turned to look at her, and the grips of the two swords protruded from behind her shoulders like broken angel’s wings. “Now, remember, tablets after breakfast.” She unlocked the door, stepped into the bright light of morning, and was gone.

  Robyn lay there, continuing to look towards the entrance. Who was this girl?

  chapter 4

  It took a few days for the effects of the antibiotics to kick in. During that time, Robyn was in and out of consciousness. She did not remember much about her waking hours and one day drifted into the next and the next and the next. Mila was there whenever she needed help, but she spent much of her time outside, often coming back just before dark with a rucksack full of freshly picked food. She would leave Robyn a pan of soup or stew for lunch as well as her tablets, all neatly laid out.

  “I think the antibiotics are working, yes?” Mila said one evening.

  Robyn was sitting upright on the sofa. Fresh blankets draped her shoulders, and she had her hands cupped around a mug of hot lemon tea. “Yes. I’m starting to feel a lot better.”

  “Soon, you will be able to go out again.”

  “I really need to try to find my sister.”

  “When you are ready, I will help with this.”

  “Thank you, Mila. You’ve been amazing. I’d have died without you.”

  “As I said, I hope someone would do the same thing for me if I was in their socks.”