After the End of the World
Never Coming Home
The sky was bleak and the day bare; the waters gray and the air stinking of blood and ashes.
That is, at least, what he saw from the corners of his eyes.
Gerard directed his gaze straight ahead, refusing to entertain any thoughts of looking around and seeing the damage, the wasteland, the reality that threatened to suffocate them even more than the smoke from the bombs that dropped did.
The craft their platoon rode was nearing the shore, where yet another battle was taking place and taking lives, and he heard some of his fellow soldiers utter prayers to a God that seemed so far away, pleading that they’d make it out of this alive.
Gerard sat still, stoic and detached from the hopelessness that surrounded him. He had long since convinced himself that there was no God, and if there was, he was too busy, or too indifferent, to listen to his creation cry out.
But if ever he was to pray to anyone about anything, it would be about…
“Gee?”
His atheistic thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice and a hand on his shoulder.
“Hmm?” He replied to his brother, who was seated behind him.
Mikey’s tone wavered, like it always did before they set foot on battleground. “Promise?”
That one word took him back to a memory from over twelve years ago, when he was no longer a child but still had some of his innocence, burgeoning on the brink of adulthood.
-
-
Gerard had been on his way to the library, where he worked part-time right after school, dreading the boredom that would be inevitable in such a mundane job, yet slightly happy that he’d be out of the annoying heat that still lingered from the leftover sunshine before dusk.
He always dropped by his house first, to pick up his art materials which his mom forbid he bring to school lest he be distracted by them instead of listening to the lessons, to have something to do after he stacked the shelves and alphabetized the books by category.
He only followed the rule to keep his mom happy, not mainly for his grades. He didn’t really see the whole point in school, or college, for that matter. Anyway, if he was going anywhere after high school, it would be in an art and design university, to follow his passion.
He’d been fishing around for his house key in his pants and ratty backpack when he heard them. Again.
He ran faster, ignoring the sweat trickling on the side of his face and the sunlight that made his eyes narrow, until he reached their yard, where his eleven-year-old brother was sprawled on the concrete being ganged up on by other boys, his bike, and which belonged to Gerard before, not too far away.
“Go away!” Mikey snarled, aggressive even if he was clearly on the losing side.
The other boys were merciless in their taunting.
“Hey, four-eyes, what planet are you from? Loserville?”
“Go back to where you belong, alien freak!”
“Hey, Mi-geek, why are you such a nerd?”
They jeered, making faces and pitching their voices higher to imitate Mikey’s.
“Fuck off, shitheads!” Gerard yelled, not caring that some of the boy’s parents would be calling him again up for ‘exposing their children to such obscene language.’ If there was any bad influence there, it would be those mini-bullies who have nothing to do in their stupid, shit-filled lives.
“Leave my brother alone!” He darted forward, waving the finger in the faces of the scampering boys. “That’s it, go home to your mommies, you motherfuckers!”
The boys hurriedly left, laughing, partly in amusement and partly in nervousness.
“You’re lucky your suicidal brother came to rescue you today, Mi-geek! See ya in school tomorrow!” They shouted when they were a bit farther as they pedaled away on their brand new bikes, not daring to say it right in front of Gerard. He might be Mikey’s brother and a Way loser, but he was also seventeen, way bigger than they were and could easily beat them to a pulp.
“Fucking assholes,” Gerard hissed under his breath, and then turned to Mikey, who was struggling to get up despite a pretty big scrape on his knee that left patches of blood on the sidewalk.
“You okay, Mikey?” He asked as he leaned the bike against the garage door. Mikey looked aggravated and pitiful at the same time, his glasses askew on his face, limping from his wound, yet still struggling to make it to the front door without Gerard’s help, bitter tears welling in his eyes.
“No,” he answered, but not snappily. “I’m not okay, Gee. I’m not.” He looked up at his big brother, who was practically his hero, with such sad, sad eyes Gerard wanted to give those bullies two punches each, in the face and in the gut, kids or not.
“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he pointed to the gash, then unlocked the front door and helped Mikey to the couch.
As he hunted around in the cabinets for the first aid box, he glanced at the clock and saw that he was already ten minutes late for his shift. He shrugged it off; the library job added to his allowance, but not by much, and he could risk losing it. He could get by.
He went back to the living room, brushing some of his black locks from his face, then went on to cleaning Mikey’s knee.
“They had no right to say that about you, Gee,” Mikey said quietly, fiddling with the flowery pattern of the faded sofa cover.
Gerard remembered. The kids had called him suicidal, which applied to that one incidence he’d tried to take his life. It made the news due to it involving drug abuse, and was a harrowing time for their family. He’d been truly depressed at that time, but regretted the act afterwards. He eventually got better, but had been labeled ever since.
“I mean, it was all right when they picked on me, but they didn’t have to--“
“It’s nothing, Mike,” Gerard said reassuringly, as Mikey winced, from the antiseptic or the boys’ hurtful words, he wasn’t certain. “Those worms don’t know anything better other than what Abercrombie and Fitch feeds to them. They’re a shame to Jersey. Just a bunch of fucking moose-lovers.”
Mikey smiled at the mention of their inside joke, as Gerard finished bandaging his knee.
“I hope Mom doesn’t find out, Gee,” Mikey whispered anxiously. “She might tell on them again, and that only makes it worse.”
“Well, that bandage is kinda obvious, but I’ll think up a ‘creative’ excuse,” Gerard winked, a rare feat, and Mikey’s smile broadened.
“And Gee?” Mikey spoke just as the silence that followed was lengthening.
“Thanks. For helping me out. You’re the best,” he stated earnestly. Gerard smirked, chuckling slightly.
“You don’t have to get all chick-flicky and sappy about it, Wheeze,” he joked, but Mikey’s expression was serious.
“I mean it, Gee. I dunno what I’ll do without you.”
“Well, you’re one heck of a little brother too,” Gerard retorted after a moment’s thought. “But I won’t always be around, you know. You gotta learn to stand on your own and defend yourself, ‘coz I can’t always do it for you.”
Mikey sighed, and Gerard placed a hand on his shoulder.
“But when that happens, you have to take care of yourself out there, okay? Promise?” He squeezed his shoulder.
Mikey put his shorter, skinnier hand on top of his older brother’s. “Promise.”
-
-
The ritual followed them to later years, whenever a situation where they couldn’t have each other’s back would present itself. Like in the battlefield.
Especially the battlefield.
Gerard placed his hand on top of Mikey’s and squeezed. “Promise. You too?”
“Yeah.”
And no other words would be exchanged, because no other words would suffice for the bond, the love that resided in their hearts. When it all comes down to it, they only had each other anyway.
-
-
‘You might have been told about the importance of following orders, or leaving no one behind, or even simple military shit about holding guns, but when you’re out there, you just gotta remember two things: shoot, and don’t get shot. You don’t think, you don’t get smart, because nobody cares about your brilliant plan. You exterminate the enemy, or whatever stands left, or get killed doing so. The goal you should want to reach? It’s not winning, or protecting your goddamn country… it’s surviving that fucking place and makes it out with at least a limb left. Just shoot, and don’t get shot.’
This was the speech their unit commander once gave them when they were fresh out of training and ready to take on anything. Others might disagree, but Gerard always kept that one, final phrase in his mind.
And before he knew it, they’d landed on the war zone.
“Move, troops, move!” The commander roared, and some of them stumbled against each other as they got out of the boat. Bullets were flying and bombs dropping everywhere, and the group divided to take cover.
-
-
A bomb in front of them almost hit Matt, his bunkmate, if Gerard hadn’t pulled him away in time.
“Close call,” Matt uttered in disbelief. Gerard nodded, then hollered orders as the battle continued, as they lay on their fronts to the ground to aim and fire.
They had been there for what seemed like an eternity, a day that just wouldn’t end. It seemed like a thousand bodies were piling up, and the stench of death pierced their nostrils, yet everything was far from over.
Weary and exhausted, someone screeched that they should take cover as an enemy tank approached. He and his companions quickly took flight on their feet, searching for a temporary safe place.
As they ran, Gerard looked behind him to check on Mikey.
He wasn’t there.
“Wait, Frank!” He rasped at one of his closest friends. Frank turned hastily.
“What is it, Gee?”
“It’s Mikey! He’s… he’s not with us!” Gerard’s eyes wildly scanned the chaotic space, straining to get a glimpse of his brother. It had been hard to do, but they had never been forced apart in a battle. Never.
Frank exchanged glances with Bob, another one of his friends.
“We can’t go back, Gee. Mikey’s on his own.”
“No!” Gerard argued, just as he saw the glimmer of Mikey’s glasses reflect the sunlight. “There! He’s over there!”
Frank and Bob looked to where Gerard pointed.
Mikey was hiding behind what seemed to be the ruins of a small craft, much like the one they had just been in, waiting for a chance to catch up with them.
-
-
Mikey’s fingers tightened their hold on his gun, and he pushed his glasses up his face as he leaned momentarily on the wooden framework of a boat, or what was left of it. He could see Gerard, Frank and Bob in the distance, seemingly waiting for him as he himself waited for the way to clear up.
“One, two, three,” he counted under his breath, then rushed out from under his cover.
Six steps forward, the sand sinking beneath his boots.
Another six, the gun feeling heavier in his hands with every second.
Six steps, and Gerard was so just so near now.
It was between the next six steps that a wayward bullet found its way to his stomach, and he fell.
-
-
All three of them saw him fall.
“Mikey!” Gerard shouted as he staggered forward, attempting to help his injured brother.
Frank and Bob grabbed his arms to stop him, and he struggled to be free from their grasp.
“Let me go!” He shouted furiously. “I can’t abandon my brother, fuckheads!”
He cursed and showered them with obscenities, but his friends did not falter in restraining him.
“Do you have a death wish, you idiot? You’re going to kill yourself!” Frank shouted back.
“Don’t be stupid, Gerard!” Bob barked as Gerard tried to kick his shin.
“No! Mikey!” Gerard was begging now. “I have to help him! He’s my brother! You can’t make me leave my brother behind!” They all watched as Ray, a friend of theirs who was on the medical team, went on his knees by Mikey’s side, fumbling and pressing an old bandage to the bullet wound. And they all kept watching as Ray’s face became desperate, and then forlorn.
-
-
The pain didn’t come immediately, but when it did it hit with such intensity it knocked the wind out of him.
Suddenly Ray, a medic friend, knelt beside him and pressed a tattered piece of bandage to his wound.
It made the pain worse, and he screamed.
“Gerard!” He called out for his brother, who wasn’t, couldn’t be there.
Ray’s eyes were unreadable, or indescribably sad, trying not to listen to his throaty screams filled with anguish and despair.
“Gerard!” He shouted one last time, to the earth, to the war, to his fellow soldiers, to the cause, to his brother.
Then his head fell to one side, his eyes still wide open, staring in horror at the destruction, at the deaths, and he breathed no more.
-
-
‘I’m not okay, Gee,” he gazed up at his big brother with the saddest eyes in the world. ‘I’m not.’
Gerard’s breath hitched as Mikey lost his.
‘Thanks, for helping me out. You’re the best,’ with the ghost of a smile on his face.
Gerard stopped thrashing violently, becoming still as his brother lay, so close yet so far away from him.
‘I mean it. I dunno what I’ll do without you,’ so innocent, so earnest, so heartbreaking.
Gerard’s eyes were too dry to summon tears, but he felt like crying anyway.
‘But when that happens, you have to take care of yourself out there, okay? Promise?’
‘Promise.’
“Mikey!” Gerard screamed as his throat goes hoarse, as the mockery of the memory plays in his head, unrelenting. “Mikey…”
“You can’t help him now, Gee.” Frank said tentatively, his and Bob’s holds loosening on Gerard, hating to be the cruel one who had to tell his best friend the truth he just wouldn’t accept. “Nobody can.
“He’s gone.”
Gerard gasped for breath as the vindictive words left Frank’s lips, as his eyes refused to move from Mikey’s motionless form, as empty sobs shook his frame, and as the world fell apart before him.
At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home...
That is, at least, what he saw from the corners of his eyes.
Gerard directed his gaze straight ahead, refusing to entertain any thoughts of looking around and seeing the damage, the wasteland, the reality that threatened to suffocate them even more than the smoke from the bombs that dropped did.
The craft their platoon rode was nearing the shore, where yet another battle was taking place and taking lives, and he heard some of his fellow soldiers utter prayers to a God that seemed so far away, pleading that they’d make it out of this alive.
Gerard sat still, stoic and detached from the hopelessness that surrounded him. He had long since convinced himself that there was no God, and if there was, he was too busy, or too indifferent, to listen to his creation cry out.
But if ever he was to pray to anyone about anything, it would be about…
“Gee?”
His atheistic thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice and a hand on his shoulder.
“Hmm?” He replied to his brother, who was seated behind him.
Mikey’s tone wavered, like it always did before they set foot on battleground. “Promise?”
That one word took him back to a memory from over twelve years ago, when he was no longer a child but still had some of his innocence, burgeoning on the brink of adulthood.
-
-
Gerard had been on his way to the library, where he worked part-time right after school, dreading the boredom that would be inevitable in such a mundane job, yet slightly happy that he’d be out of the annoying heat that still lingered from the leftover sunshine before dusk.
He always dropped by his house first, to pick up his art materials which his mom forbid he bring to school lest he be distracted by them instead of listening to the lessons, to have something to do after he stacked the shelves and alphabetized the books by category.
He only followed the rule to keep his mom happy, not mainly for his grades. He didn’t really see the whole point in school, or college, for that matter. Anyway, if he was going anywhere after high school, it would be in an art and design university, to follow his passion.
He’d been fishing around for his house key in his pants and ratty backpack when he heard them. Again.
He ran faster, ignoring the sweat trickling on the side of his face and the sunlight that made his eyes narrow, until he reached their yard, where his eleven-year-old brother was sprawled on the concrete being ganged up on by other boys, his bike, and which belonged to Gerard before, not too far away.
“Go away!” Mikey snarled, aggressive even if he was clearly on the losing side.
The other boys were merciless in their taunting.
“Hey, four-eyes, what planet are you from? Loserville?”
“Go back to where you belong, alien freak!”
“Hey, Mi-geek, why are you such a nerd?”
They jeered, making faces and pitching their voices higher to imitate Mikey’s.
“Fuck off, shitheads!” Gerard yelled, not caring that some of the boy’s parents would be calling him again up for ‘exposing their children to such obscene language.’ If there was any bad influence there, it would be those mini-bullies who have nothing to do in their stupid, shit-filled lives.
“Leave my brother alone!” He darted forward, waving the finger in the faces of the scampering boys. “That’s it, go home to your mommies, you motherfuckers!”
The boys hurriedly left, laughing, partly in amusement and partly in nervousness.
“You’re lucky your suicidal brother came to rescue you today, Mi-geek! See ya in school tomorrow!” They shouted when they were a bit farther as they pedaled away on their brand new bikes, not daring to say it right in front of Gerard. He might be Mikey’s brother and a Way loser, but he was also seventeen, way bigger than they were and could easily beat them to a pulp.
“Fucking assholes,” Gerard hissed under his breath, and then turned to Mikey, who was struggling to get up despite a pretty big scrape on his knee that left patches of blood on the sidewalk.
“You okay, Mikey?” He asked as he leaned the bike against the garage door. Mikey looked aggravated and pitiful at the same time, his glasses askew on his face, limping from his wound, yet still struggling to make it to the front door without Gerard’s help, bitter tears welling in his eyes.
“No,” he answered, but not snappily. “I’m not okay, Gee. I’m not.” He looked up at his big brother, who was practically his hero, with such sad, sad eyes Gerard wanted to give those bullies two punches each, in the face and in the gut, kids or not.
“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he pointed to the gash, then unlocked the front door and helped Mikey to the couch.
As he hunted around in the cabinets for the first aid box, he glanced at the clock and saw that he was already ten minutes late for his shift. He shrugged it off; the library job added to his allowance, but not by much, and he could risk losing it. He could get by.
He went back to the living room, brushing some of his black locks from his face, then went on to cleaning Mikey’s knee.
“They had no right to say that about you, Gee,” Mikey said quietly, fiddling with the flowery pattern of the faded sofa cover.
Gerard remembered. The kids had called him suicidal, which applied to that one incidence he’d tried to take his life. It made the news due to it involving drug abuse, and was a harrowing time for their family. He’d been truly depressed at that time, but regretted the act afterwards. He eventually got better, but had been labeled ever since.
“I mean, it was all right when they picked on me, but they didn’t have to--“
“It’s nothing, Mike,” Gerard said reassuringly, as Mikey winced, from the antiseptic or the boys’ hurtful words, he wasn’t certain. “Those worms don’t know anything better other than what Abercrombie and Fitch feeds to them. They’re a shame to Jersey. Just a bunch of fucking moose-lovers.”
Mikey smiled at the mention of their inside joke, as Gerard finished bandaging his knee.
“I hope Mom doesn’t find out, Gee,” Mikey whispered anxiously. “She might tell on them again, and that only makes it worse.”
“Well, that bandage is kinda obvious, but I’ll think up a ‘creative’ excuse,” Gerard winked, a rare feat, and Mikey’s smile broadened.
“And Gee?” Mikey spoke just as the silence that followed was lengthening.
“Thanks. For helping me out. You’re the best,” he stated earnestly. Gerard smirked, chuckling slightly.
“You don’t have to get all chick-flicky and sappy about it, Wheeze,” he joked, but Mikey’s expression was serious.
“I mean it, Gee. I dunno what I’ll do without you.”
“Well, you’re one heck of a little brother too,” Gerard retorted after a moment’s thought. “But I won’t always be around, you know. You gotta learn to stand on your own and defend yourself, ‘coz I can’t always do it for you.”
Mikey sighed, and Gerard placed a hand on his shoulder.
“But when that happens, you have to take care of yourself out there, okay? Promise?” He squeezed his shoulder.
Mikey put his shorter, skinnier hand on top of his older brother’s. “Promise.”
-
-
The ritual followed them to later years, whenever a situation where they couldn’t have each other’s back would present itself. Like in the battlefield.
Especially the battlefield.
Gerard placed his hand on top of Mikey’s and squeezed. “Promise. You too?”
“Yeah.”
And no other words would be exchanged, because no other words would suffice for the bond, the love that resided in their hearts. When it all comes down to it, they only had each other anyway.
-
-
‘You might have been told about the importance of following orders, or leaving no one behind, or even simple military shit about holding guns, but when you’re out there, you just gotta remember two things: shoot, and don’t get shot. You don’t think, you don’t get smart, because nobody cares about your brilliant plan. You exterminate the enemy, or whatever stands left, or get killed doing so. The goal you should want to reach? It’s not winning, or protecting your goddamn country… it’s surviving that fucking place and makes it out with at least a limb left. Just shoot, and don’t get shot.’
This was the speech their unit commander once gave them when they were fresh out of training and ready to take on anything. Others might disagree, but Gerard always kept that one, final phrase in his mind.
And before he knew it, they’d landed on the war zone.
“Move, troops, move!” The commander roared, and some of them stumbled against each other as they got out of the boat. Bullets were flying and bombs dropping everywhere, and the group divided to take cover.
-
-
A bomb in front of them almost hit Matt, his bunkmate, if Gerard hadn’t pulled him away in time.
“Close call,” Matt uttered in disbelief. Gerard nodded, then hollered orders as the battle continued, as they lay on their fronts to the ground to aim and fire.
They had been there for what seemed like an eternity, a day that just wouldn’t end. It seemed like a thousand bodies were piling up, and the stench of death pierced their nostrils, yet everything was far from over.
Weary and exhausted, someone screeched that they should take cover as an enemy tank approached. He and his companions quickly took flight on their feet, searching for a temporary safe place.
As they ran, Gerard looked behind him to check on Mikey.
He wasn’t there.
“Wait, Frank!” He rasped at one of his closest friends. Frank turned hastily.
“What is it, Gee?”
“It’s Mikey! He’s… he’s not with us!” Gerard’s eyes wildly scanned the chaotic space, straining to get a glimpse of his brother. It had been hard to do, but they had never been forced apart in a battle. Never.
Frank exchanged glances with Bob, another one of his friends.
“We can’t go back, Gee. Mikey’s on his own.”
“No!” Gerard argued, just as he saw the glimmer of Mikey’s glasses reflect the sunlight. “There! He’s over there!”
Frank and Bob looked to where Gerard pointed.
Mikey was hiding behind what seemed to be the ruins of a small craft, much like the one they had just been in, waiting for a chance to catch up with them.
-
-
Mikey’s fingers tightened their hold on his gun, and he pushed his glasses up his face as he leaned momentarily on the wooden framework of a boat, or what was left of it. He could see Gerard, Frank and Bob in the distance, seemingly waiting for him as he himself waited for the way to clear up.
“One, two, three,” he counted under his breath, then rushed out from under his cover.
Six steps forward, the sand sinking beneath his boots.
Another six, the gun feeling heavier in his hands with every second.
Six steps, and Gerard was so just so near now.
It was between the next six steps that a wayward bullet found its way to his stomach, and he fell.
-
-
All three of them saw him fall.
“Mikey!” Gerard shouted as he staggered forward, attempting to help his injured brother.
Frank and Bob grabbed his arms to stop him, and he struggled to be free from their grasp.
“Let me go!” He shouted furiously. “I can’t abandon my brother, fuckheads!”
He cursed and showered them with obscenities, but his friends did not falter in restraining him.
“Do you have a death wish, you idiot? You’re going to kill yourself!” Frank shouted back.
“Don’t be stupid, Gerard!” Bob barked as Gerard tried to kick his shin.
“No! Mikey!” Gerard was begging now. “I have to help him! He’s my brother! You can’t make me leave my brother behind!” They all watched as Ray, a friend of theirs who was on the medical team, went on his knees by Mikey’s side, fumbling and pressing an old bandage to the bullet wound. And they all kept watching as Ray’s face became desperate, and then forlorn.
-
-
The pain didn’t come immediately, but when it did it hit with such intensity it knocked the wind out of him.
Suddenly Ray, a medic friend, knelt beside him and pressed a tattered piece of bandage to his wound.
It made the pain worse, and he screamed.
“Gerard!” He called out for his brother, who wasn’t, couldn’t be there.
Ray’s eyes were unreadable, or indescribably sad, trying not to listen to his throaty screams filled with anguish and despair.
“Gerard!” He shouted one last time, to the earth, to the war, to his fellow soldiers, to the cause, to his brother.
Then his head fell to one side, his eyes still wide open, staring in horror at the destruction, at the deaths, and he breathed no more.
-
-
‘I’m not okay, Gee,” he gazed up at his big brother with the saddest eyes in the world. ‘I’m not.’
Gerard’s breath hitched as Mikey lost his.
‘Thanks, for helping me out. You’re the best,’ with the ghost of a smile on his face.
Gerard stopped thrashing violently, becoming still as his brother lay, so close yet so far away from him.
‘I mean it. I dunno what I’ll do without you,’ so innocent, so earnest, so heartbreaking.
Gerard’s eyes were too dry to summon tears, but he felt like crying anyway.
‘But when that happens, you have to take care of yourself out there, okay? Promise?’
‘Promise.’
“Mikey!” Gerard screamed as his throat goes hoarse, as the mockery of the memory plays in his head, unrelenting. “Mikey…”
“You can’t help him now, Gee.” Frank said tentatively, his and Bob’s holds loosening on Gerard, hating to be the cruel one who had to tell his best friend the truth he just wouldn’t accept. “Nobody can.
“He’s gone.”
Gerard gasped for breath as the vindictive words left Frank’s lips, as his eyes refused to move from Mikey’s motionless form, as empty sobs shook his frame, and as the world fell apart before him.
At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home...