Tonight, The World Dies

Jason glanced over at Mary, picking at a piece of chicken she had prepared. He set his handgun down on the counter, and he leaned toward her. She looked up and set her fork down.

“Ya alright, Mary?” he asked.

She nodded and said, “Yeah, I just still can’t get over that boy.”

“He’s gone now,” Jason said. “Ain’t no sense in wastin’ a worry on him.”

“But what was he?” asked Mary. “Why did he look like that? Why was he so torn up? Why was he all alone?”

Jason sat back and sighed. He shook his head.

“I don’t have answers, Mary,” he said. “Maybe I’ll look around here in the morning - see if I can find a radio or somethin’. Maybe they have answers for ya.”

Jason stood up, but Mary grabbed his hand. His eyes met hers, and she took a deep breath.

“Jason,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m so scared.”

Jason sat back down and said, “I know, Mary. We’re gonna get through this. We got each other.”

He pulled her head into his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. He stroked her hair gently, lovingly. Mary put one of her hands on his knee and took a deep breath.

“What happened before the blast?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Jason said.

“With you and Franky,” Mary replied. “You were out in the woods, I know, but only you came back.”

“Franky...” Jason paused, closing his eyes. “Franky was hit. That’s all.”

“Hit? Who by?”

Jason pushed Mary off and said, “Ain’t important.”

He stood angrily and left the room. Mary stood up, chasing after him. She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. She grabbed again, and he spun around and grabbed her shoulders.

“It ain’t important, Mary,” he growled, “so drop it.”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” said Mary.

Jason was silent as he stormed up the stairs and slammed the door to the bedroom. Mary stood there in awe for a moment, not really knowing how to take the situation. She opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, the rays of the sun just barely beginning to show up in the far distance. Mary shivered and pulled her sweater closer. She sat down in the rocking chair by the front door, quietly watching the truck.

A snap caught her attention, and she suddenly became more aware of a presence around her. She squinted toward the tree line and made out an image slowly stumbling toward the truck.

“Hello?” she said.

There was a gurgled snarl, and her heart dropped. It was another of those things. Slowly, she stood and went back inside. She locked the door behind her and stood there, staring at the door, not really believing it was real. A moment later, she heard scratching against the door. She took a step back, at first fearing the thing on the other side. She then put her hand against the door. The scratching ceased for a moment, as if it felt her presence there, but it soon started again.

Mary went to the window and looked out, watching the thing scratching endlessly at the door. Every once in awhile, it would try to bite at the door. She almost felt bad for it. It didn’t know what it was doing or where it was. Its hair was matted and dirty, and its clothes were ragged and baggy against its small frame. She estimated it might have been a teenager or at least a young adult.

But how did it get this way? What made it look as if it were decaying? Why was its body a corpse?

Mary sat down in the armchair in the living room, and she watched the last embers of the fire die in the fireplace. She listened to the scratching and soft tapping, all the while growing more and more sorrowful.

---

Jason slammed down a handheld radio, and Mary jolted awake. He entered the kitchen, picking up his handgun. Mary sat up, watching as he paced the kitchen, eating an apple.

“The fuck is that noise?” he snapped, spitting pieces of apple everywhere.

“It’s...it’s one of those things,” said Mary. “Jason, it hasn’t hurt anything. Leave it be.”

Jason’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way back to the door. He unlocked the bolt and flung the door open. The thing snapped at him, but he took aim between its eyes and pulled the trigger. It fell into a pile on the front step.

“Jason-”

“Shut the hell up, Mary,” Jason said.

He stepped over the body. He grabbed it by the shirt and threw it out into the yard. He spit on it before turning and walking back into the house. He slammed the door shut, and he locked it behind him.

Mary was silent as Jason went back into the kitchen and continued chomping on the apple. She turned and made her way back to the armchair, where she sat and stared into the ashy fireplace. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head there, praying silently.