No End (Post Apocalypse Stock Market, Book 1)

  No End, Post Apocalypse Stock Market, Book 1

  Copyright © 2013 Kindle Publishing Timothy Cox

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book, all rights reserved.

  “You can't take highways during the apocalypse, because they'll be packed with panicky people.”

  ― J. Cornell Michel, Jordan's Brains: A Zombie Evolution

  (1)

  Clinton Filosy had three brothers and one sister. He also had a girlfriend: Sofia Gonzelia. They were together for twenty years; high school love hearts. He never proposed – not once – but that’s a lie. On one rainy night he looked at himself in the mirror with a box in his right. He could hear her laugh behind closed door; he never understood how a person could laugh so much at commercials. He looked at himself once more and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He told himself he could do it – and that when she always said: marriage is paper but love is divine, what she really meant was: my heart secretly desires a white wedding kiss, can you blame a woman?

  He smiled at the mirror and put his hand on the door. That’s when everything started. The horror. The pain. Her screaming the worst. He ran away with their only child; the child that had an expiry date.

  (2)

  Seven years later.

  The man on the right had a belly the size of a car wheel; something of a rarity, being well fed was a currency in today’s world. He had the attire of a rich homeless man and the skin of a car mechanic. He saw Clint approach before Clint saw him. He nudged his skinny companion and pointed.

  ‘Hey I hopa you know this is private territory.’ Fat man said.

  ‘Yeah get lost bro before we make you get lost.’ Skinny said.

  Clint spoke the only language they knew. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a dirty small bag. He shook it.

  ‘How much you in there?’ He asked rubbing his stomach.

  ‘Enough, I want to speak to Rattle.’ Clint said.

  He slapped his stomach a few times and burped. ‘He busy, he doesn’t have time for–’

  ‘Now let’s hear the man out.’ Skinny said. ‘If he’s got the ching let him ring.’ He walked a few steps down and peered up. ‘You know, they say rain is on the way,’ he spat, ‘but I don’t believe them. The sky is always this color. Come day, come night, or even when I’m fucking that girl what’s her name–’ he flicked his thumb.

  ‘Jenny.’

  ‘Yeah Jenny that’s right. Skinny lil bitch she is but she does it right.’ His eyes fell on the dirty bag. ‘Now how much you got in there old man?’

  Clint knew coming here was a mistake. He tried talking himself out but it was never going to be that easy. Time was running out. ‘Now, I don’t want any trouble with you guys. I just want to speak with your–’ they both walked forward. ‘I don’t think Rattle will be happy when he hears about money disappearing.’

  ‘He’s trying to exhortitade us.’

  The skinny guy frowned and glanced, ‘what the hell is exhoritade?’

  ‘I read it. Don’t be a smartass. Now what we going to do about him?’

  Clint looked at the door behind them. He wondered if he could make a run for it. Was Rattle in there?

  ‘So what’s it going to be? Either you give us that bag you have there in your hand, or, well, you know.’

  Clint then knew; like a metal boat pointing down and drifting to the deep, he was a fool for coming. It caught him off-guard. The pain was more emotional than physical. He felt cold steel piercing and thought two things: please don’t let me die and please don’t let her die. Just for fun, and boredom, he twisted the knife around a few times. That’s when all he could think of was the physical pain: sharp metal cutting innards.

  He fell face down. They laughed at the knife protruding from his back.

  ‘Go check the bag.’ Skinny said.

  ‘I bet it’s going to be like last time just a few cookies.’

  Clint heard his breathing loud and clear; like slurping through a straw. He opened his mouth and spat salty soil. He lifted his neck to have a–

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ his voice sounded like a tape recorder played backward. He pushed Clint’s head back down. Fresh soil filled his mouth.

  ‘This a surprise.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Coins rattled, ‘he actually had lots of money on him. I not seen this much in long time.’

  ‘What let me see?’

  Clint felt the pressure from his head disappear. He spat soil and gasped for air. He squealed at the pain in his back and tried reaching the handle. It sat right in the middle – fingers just out of reach. It was no use. A red tear fell from his face. He knew he had to get away. With chin anchored and arm stretched he pulled. He pulled again this time making good distance. He could hear them talk in the background, throwing the money around like it was nothing; if only they knew what he went through to get that much. Not that it mattered anymore. This is what people did, take from others, nothing new.

  ‘Hey look he’s trying to get away.’ They laughed at the funny joke.

  Footsteps neared. ‘Let me finish him.’

  ‘Be quick. We need to hide the body.’

  ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ He pulled Clint’s head up.

  (3)

  Not a single sound. Not even a heartbeat. This is what death sounded like: a vacuum of silence.

  His finger scraped something. It felt both hard and soft. He scraped again. His nails did the job, the object ripped. Something cold and wet dribbled on his hand. He wiggled his toes. They didn’t move. There were things pinning his body down – heavy things. But this didn’t scare him. At least he was alive and breathing.

  The warm air got to him – he choked on the stench of rotten vegetables. He realized that it wasn’t just food. Food didn’t smell this bad – unless it went in and out a few times.

  ‘H-help me,’ a tear slid down his face and into his mouth. It was the only thing that tasted normal. He didn’t want to open his eyes. The darkness it provided gave him comfort against the unknown. Time however was running out. He screamed but the only things that came out were chokes. The surge of adrenaline didn’t help either; it only reminded him of how close he was to death.

  ‘Any-one!’ The wet puddle on his hand smelled awful. He didn’t want to know what it was. He opened his eyes. All he saw was endless black. He craned his head up against something heavy. It pushed him down. He screamed. He cried. And then the pain woke up; a thing he wished stayed dormant. It felt as if someone took an ice cube and rubbed it up his spine. When the cold reached his shoulders – cold turned into pain. He has never felt anything like it, the pain branched around his body, his stomach clenched as the icy pain ran into it, his neck stiffened. And then his fingers tapped/scraped without his consent.

  He bit his tongue until it bled. He wasn’t in control anymore. He felt like a rat suffocating in a container. He thought about death. He was going to go there any second, so he might as well anticipate what it was going to be like. He didn’t believe in God, not after what happened to his girlfriend. How they broke in that night and killed her. How they made him watch. It was only when she was dead that he was able to free himself. He killed them both until his hands were red. He remembers grabbing Milly from under her bed. How they survived for so long. And now, he was going to fail her just when she needed him the most…

  His body calmed. This was it, he thought. Ev
erything around him went silent. Liquid tapped on his head. He felt like going back to sleep; that place where pain doesn’t exist.

  Hey anyone in there?

  Clint chuckled. He heard Jesus speak.

  I’m warning you. You better not be in there. You know that’s my sleeping place.

  ‘Get your own sleeping place Jesus,’ Clint mumbled.

  What did you say? I can’t hear. I’m going to open up now if you have a weapon you better think twice. I-I have a weapon of my own – yes I do – a knife.

  Something scraped.

  You hear that? I have a big knife. And uh, I’m not afraid to use it. I’m a killer.

  There was a loud metal clap: metal hinges came loose. The top opened. Cold fresh air rushed inside sucking up the smell of decay with one big swoop. Clint’s lips pouted like a fish. He tried breathing in the new air. His skin came alive. He could even see a star or two (or maybe it was just a flashlight). He felt the pressure go away from his chest. When the last bag was picked up from his face, he looked up at the naked sky. He began to cry.

  A man peered over with a plastic fork. He frowned. ‘What in Jessie’s name happened to you?’

  (4)

  He kept peeking over the shopping trolley as if the groceries were going to jump out; in this case a human body. The wheels roared into the quiet night. Sometimes, the wheels broke. The man would swear at something close by, preferably a tree, and kick the wheels. It always worked.

  ‘Where…you taking me?’ Clint asked. He saw them pass derelict housing. He hoped it wasn’t town, town was never good at night. His vision blurred – he blacked out.

  A voice sang: When I get lonely I feel like making love oh ho yo.

  Clint heard the words echo in his head. He thought of Milly and felt like crying. But he didn’t know if that was possible. He was trapped in darkness; his own internal nightm–

  When I’m finished with you my boy, you’ll feel like a new man. You just wait till it’s inside.

  Until what was inside? Clint thought. The sound of gritty rumbling followed them, it never disappeared. He wondered what it could be and then he felt his body bob.

  Hey I hope you’re not dead. I need you alive and fresh.

  ‘Where you taking me?’ Clint asked. He waited for what felt like a year. An answer never came.

  Flashbacks taunted Clint. It made him remember what his mind tried to forget. He remembers the cold steel entering his back. The two that stole his money. The elusive Rattle that he needed to speak with. The cure for his daughter. He felt like going back to sleep; but he was already sleeping. He tried touching his back but it was like trying to jump while sleeping. Not a single part of his body worked except for his running mind.

  He heard the rumbling stop. He wondered why. And then something thundered. There were voices – too far away for prying ears. He couldn’t see a thing, but it occurred to him that something didn’t feel right. He was sure he heard two words over and over: experiment and sell.

  The rumbling resumed. He could now put one plus one together, that rumbling sound was him moving. Did they just enter someone’s house? Or did they just enter some factory? He could hear things break in the distance. It sounded like splinters of glass trickling onto the floor. They passed something big. The sound it made was incredible; even the darkness around Clint vibrated.

  Where do you want him?

  Give me a minute to think.

  Who do they want where? Were these people talking about him? He felt like he needed to run all of a sudden. Everything around him screamed danger. He realized it now. ‘What do you guys want? Please let me go I need to help her.’

  Did his lips just move?

  Don’t know. Let’s get started. Go put him on that thing.

  It looks a little cluttered.

  So clean it.

  Clint felt his legs go up. He tried stopping it. His efforts were futile; he felt like a baby being picked up. He couldn’t even scream. The only thing he could do now was anticipate what was coming. He ran through all the possible horrors: his body had just been sold to a dirty man, he was going to be raped, his organs were going to be taken out and sold on to the black market, or he was going to be somebody’s human play toy. The list was endless. The horror frightening. If he had to choose one it would be the organ removal. At least that would be a quick death.

  He felt tired. There was something else infiltrating his body apart from the pain. It felt sharp. It pierced flesh, this he knew; he could feel it scraping past bone. The pain wasn’t so bad. It felt like a little worm wiggling its way through skin, kissing the insides, making sure not to hurt. His brain told him to sleep. He said no. His Brain won.

  (5)

  Clint’s trip to Disneyland.

  Her hair was beautiful. Her smile, a kiss on the heart.

  ‘I can’t believe you brought us here mister.’ She leaned forward while squeezing his hand. ‘Dammit!’

  ‘I think these games are designed to make you lose Sofia.’

  The guy holding the big rabbit squeezed its ears. ‘Now uh, that’s just some silly big myth.’ He showed a lot of white and chuckled. ‘I think if the pretty lady aims for, let’s say, that one over there,’ he pointed at the ring furthest away, ‘she might’ve a chance.’

  Clint had a sneaky feeling that it was going to–

  ‘Yes!’ she jumped into his arms and gave him a kiss. Her face parted with a frown. ‘Now…who’s going to carry that big thing?’

  He dropped her, ‘I think we both know.’

  A roller coaster with yellow plating thundered above them; screams disappeared with it. A little girl holding her mother’s hand walked past and gave them a grin while licking her ice cream.

  ‘Can you please take this big thing?’ She laughed, ‘I can’t believe you’re making me carry it.’

  ‘Hey you said you wanted it.’

  ‘Well aren’t you the charmer.’ The rabbit fell on the ground. ‘Maybe we should just,’ she scanned around. ‘Go put it somewhere. There.’

  ‘You want to leave the rabbit on a bench?’ He picked it up and shook his head. ‘You know, we’ve been together for a year and I’m starting to learn stuff about you.’ He glanced around. ‘Stuff I don’t like.’

  Laughter slipped her lips. ‘What just because I’m leaving some teddy on the bench – now you want to break up with me?’

  He walked with the rabbit under his arms. Children ran past which made him stop. He heard the metal railings above vibrate; the coaster was coming in for a second round. He looked around as if he was going to plant a bomb and put the rabbit down. He saw her shaking her head.

  ‘Animal abandoneder,’ she said.

  ‘Hey let’s get one thing straight. I have no qualm trading you with that thing over there.’

  ‘Oh really, is that so?’

  He took her hand but it slipped out. He looked at her, ‘what’s wrong?’ He couldn’t tell if she had a serious or playful expression.

  ‘What about her?’

  He frowned. ‘Who?’

  She pointed at her stomach and smiled.

  (6)

  Dark, just got darker. He was alive, that he knew: he could move his lips. There was something wrong with his lower lip. It felt puffed up. If he imagined it to be a color it would be filthy dark blue with a tad of red. It tasted of blood. It was the watery salt on his parched skin that worried him. Was his face bleeding? He had to check. He touched his lips. It was just like he’d imagined: puffed up skin, watery, and sore.

  Cutlery fell. Clint’s head shot to his side. He looked with eyes that couldn’t open.

  ‘You’re awake. Fantastic.’

  ‘What is this where am–’ Clint moaned ‘–this pain what the hell is going–’

  ‘Try not to move,’ he said.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Silence.

  ‘Hello? I asked what do you want–’

  ‘And I said try not to move so much.’

  He still
ed himself. He wasn’t dead – yet. That was a start. He listened to fork scraping and chewing. He heard a door in the distance shut. Footsteps neared.

  ‘Hey Toad. Where in Jessie’s name do you put the salt?’ He stepped closer. ‘What? Why are you holding your hands up to–’

  ‘You dumb ape. Don’t use my name.’

  ‘Oh, he’s awake.’ He laughed/snorted. ‘Have you talked to him?’

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘Hey buddy–’ he shook Clint’s shoulder ‘–you awake buddy?’

  ‘Where am–’

  He screamed and fell on his behind ‘he’s awake!’

  Toad let out a long sigh. ‘I just told you that.’

  ‘I-I knew of course I knew. But I didn’t think he was awake awake.’

  ‘So what did you think he was? Sleep talkin’?’

  ‘Man just tell where the salt is – you find out what he–’

  ‘Excuse me? You’re the one that brought his limp skin through that door of mine.’

  ‘I know. But did you see the shape he was–’

  ‘This is exactly what happened last time.’

  ‘Now don’t you bring Jessie into this!’

  ‘You know.’ A chair creaked. ‘I don’t mind trying to save a dog. But you can’t be bringing dead peeps here.’

  ‘I already told you he was in bad–’

  A cane thumped the floor. ‘You do realize what world we live in right? There be dead people all around. Just go down the street and you’ll find a few of them. You going to bring them as well?’

  ‘I’m fetching salt.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t–’

  ‘Get your old cane off me.’

  ‘I am the one, going to the kitchen. You, talk to your new friend and see who he is.’

  ‘Fine.’