At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1)
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Authors: John Hennessy
Tags: #young adult, #teen, #alien invasion, #pacific northwest, #near future, #strong female protagonist, #teen book, #teen action adventure, #postapocalyptic thriller, #john hennessy
AT THE
BOOK ONE OF
T
HE
R
OAD
TO
E
XTINCTION
J
OHN
H
ENNESSY
An Innovation Today Book. Go Indie.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 John Hennessy
All rights reserved
Cover art by Brett Carlson
Edited by Brittany Yost
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
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of this author.
eISBN-13: 9781476249599
This book is available in print at:
Hennessy
Novels
T
HE
R
OAD
TO
E
XTINCTION
T
RILOGY
Book One:
At the End
Book Two:
Into Cinders
(Winter
2012/13)
T
HE
C
RY
OF
H
AVOC
S
AGA
Book One:
Life
Descending
Book Two:
Darkness Devouring
Praise for Life Descending
“As good as
Game of Thrones
.”—Stella
Blackmore,
Night Owl Reviews
“A masterpiece.”—Reviewed by Rita V for
Readers Favorite
“A riveting read.”—
Midwest Book
Review
“Endlessly imaginative.”—
Kirkus
Reviews
“Hard to quit reading.”—Robert Medak,
Allbooks Review Int.
Finalist in
Foreword Magazine’s
2011
Book of the Year Awards
—fantasy genre
Short Stories
A Stalker’s Game
(free eBook)
Visit my
facebook
page and leave a comment.
To my Grandpa John
whose enthusiasm to read each
chapter the day it was finished
week by week
propelled the story onward.
Table of Contents
Chapter 3 — The Lonely Road South
Chapter 7 — Bones as Sweet as Candy
They’re All Gone
Darrel
T
hey did it; they
really did it.
The Catholics put an end to the birth
control industry, eliminating contraceptives by over 97%, from what
I understood. How? I should have paid more attention in school.
The room became darker the longer I stared
at the ceiling. Everything was so still, so quiet. It was almost as
if I lived on top of a mountain, a lone man, in a sanctuary of
solitude. This was far from any sanctuary. The alarm clock on the
nightstand pierced my ears as if it sought to kill me. I hated that
sound, always had, and probably always would. Although, this would
probably be the last time I listened to it. Would that be so
bad?
I reached to my left to shut off the harsh
noise. I moved as if a reptile waking up in the cold, blood running
slower than slow. Numb to the world now, maybe, but I had never
experienced this feeling before; I could have misinterpreted the
emptiness. My finger must have made it to the correct button
because the sound finally ceased.
The room glowed with electronics. I couldn’t
remember the last time I saw complete darkness. My computer: a tiny
metal case smaller than a shoebox that perched on my desk, silent
as it slept, lit most of the room. From what I was told, old
computers always made humming noises, cooled by fans. I’m not sure
what cooled that bugger, but I’d never heard a peep out of it. On
the wall above my desk hung the Ultimate Resolution Display, a
marvel of the twenties, I believe. Considered garbage in comparison
to the shelved items on the current market, but it worked
consistently. My eyes darted to the 3D contact lenses resting next
to the silver metal clock. Quickly, I inserted them with painless
ease. They didn’t change my dark-blue eye color like some contacts
did. I hated those kinds.
I plopped down into the roller chair,
awakened the cursor, and ran a search for the world population.
Still 38,638,347,313. No one would ever change it again, probably
for the best.
I cleared my throat, always a bad habit of
mine.
I drifted into the kitchen, possibly thirty
minutes later, or maybe three; I didn’t know where time went. But
it passed almost at a creep that I’m certain of. Well, I’m not
certain about anything anymore, but about as certain as I dared to
be. The neo-plastic countertops were bare; they even sparkled in
the rising sunlight that found entrance into the house through
minor slits in the blinds. An empty fruit bowl sat near the raised
edge of the counter, waiting to be filled again.
I cleared my throat. My eyes glazed over,
the fruit bowl vanished, hidden in a mist that did not exist.
The world came back as a finger nudged a
spoon that sat in wait for me on the counter. The countertops were
designed to look like wood, a modern kitchen. I had wondered what
modern kitchens looked like half a century ago, probably bleak
stainless steel. I had seen part of one before, about five years
ago, as it was updated to neo-plastic, a type of super plastic that
I knew nothing about. Again, I should have paid more attention in
school. Maybe.
I poured a bowl of cereal. Sugarcoated wheat
flakes, I could have eaten them every day for the rest of my life,
but I didn’t think they would be around much longer, then again,
I’m guessing neither would I. Time escaped me again, as by the time
I made it to the couch, the flakes were soggy. Damn.
The couch was as comfortable as ever. Now
this was a sanctuary, a haven, at least for the time being. “Uhrm.
On,” I said loud enough for the sensor to pick up my voice. The
brand new screen lit up. Immediately, a news anchor—a pretty
woman—dressed well in a tan suit, came on.
“Good morning and welcome back. The time is
three minutes past the eight o’clock hour, Tuesday, the
twenty-fourth of March, twenty forty-eight. Today, so far it is
estimated that another two million people have gone missing in the
Seattle metropolitan area . . .”
“Channel 227,” I groaned. I couldn’t listen
to the news anymore. Cartoons on the other hand I could watch, they
did not remind me of the disaster happening outside. A rat jumped
out on the screen, almost real. A cat chased its tail, but the rat
had better plans, ones involving dynamite. So unrealistic, only
people killed things with explosives. I loved it.
All the blinds were drawn down, as I hoped
to ignore the street, and the odd, high-pitched noises that
periodically came from it. A while later, I thought a midmorning
nap seemed appropriate, falling asleep to the boom of cartoon
violence.
A creak from the front door stirred me. My
chest tightened. The end at last, I hoped.
The creak grew louder, followed by
silence.
Something bumped the piano in the room off
from the foyer. A curse escaped, floated into the air, and was
eventually picked up by my sub-average listening skills. I sat,
encased in ice. I heard the blood in my ears. I thought maybe a
heart attack would kill me first. My short brown hair bristled like
a porcupine. I could feel my rosy-cheeked complexion paling.
Four limbs touched the ground like a cat,
fairly soft, but I picked them up despite the voices coming from
the TV. I concentrated so hard on the sound that it was all I could
hear.
They drew closer, slow, as if they imitated
a sloth. The last step I heard was at the end of the couch, just on
the other side of its arm. My head was probably centimeters away. I
don’t think I breathed. My heart thudded against my ribs, as if it
were going to split me in two. I waited.
An almond-shaped head popped out from behind
the arm, two round, burnt eyes stared at me from behind nifty
spectacles. “Darrel?” a voice said, but I was on my way out.
Blackness surrounded me, engulfed me; it took care of me, like a
warm electric blanket.
Water splashed my face. I guess that worked,
because I woke up, wet and screaming. Curse after curse, all the
ones I knew, I let them fly.
“Calm down, bromigo,” a voice tried to
soothe me. The almond head dropped into view in front of me. I
erected myself with my back against the couch. I didn’t trust what
I saw.
“Félix?” I gasped. I coughed some, still
short on breath. I cleared my throat. Shocked, I just gaped at him.
I never thought I’d see his dark, pecan skin again.
His long face turned into a smile,
presenting his luminous white teeth. “Yeah, it’s me. You going to
pass out on me again?” he asked, nervous. I saw his hands twitch,
scared. He ran his shaky fingers through his short black hair.
“No. At least I don’t think so. I could use
some water though.” A second later he was pouring me a glass. I
never thought simple water could taste so damn good. “Thanks,” I
managed, setting the empty glass on a neo-plastic coaster. Mom
hated watermarks.
“No prob,” he said. He poured himself a
glass, sat down in the chair next to the couch, and stared at the
animated bullets coming right at us. “Can I ask you something?” He
shifted in the velvety fabric, turning to see my expression.
My eyes were still a little unfocused, but
my mind felt sharp, guessing as to what he was going to ask. “All
right.”
“Why are you watching cartoons?”
“You see the mark on the door?” I asked him.
I heard the shakiness of my voice.
“Yeah, I did.”
“That’s why,” I answered. I turned back to
the showdown, two red-stashed cowboys settling a dispute with a
duel.
“You should be watching the news, to
understand what’s going on,” he remarked.
“Is that what you’ve been doing?”
He nodded.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’m just going to watch cartoons,
okay?”
“Well that’s not logical, it just means no
one knows yet,” he said. He took another sip from his glass.
“Félix, why are you here? Better yet, how
are you here? Yesterday the news said not to go outside, that it’s
unsafe; I haven’t seen anyone on the streets for over a day.”
Whatever I said struck a wounded chord in
him. He buried his head in his lap, sobbing.
I heard a muffled, “They’re gone.”
Damn, so many.
“Mine too,” I said. “Taken the first night,
yours?”
“The second,” he replied.
His words were stifled by a cough, but I
understood. “So last night was your first night alone?” He raised
his head and nodded, taking off his glasses to dry his cheeks.
“Well don’t worry, they’ll be back.” I didn’t know what else to
say, more than likely all my words would be lies. “You want to play
Death Squad?”
“No,” he said. I think that was the first
time in two years that he didn’t want to play. “I want to watch the
news.”
“Uhrm. There’s no point. It’s been the same
news since yesterday morning,” I told him.
He stood up, angered. “Billions of people
are missing, your parents, my parents, don’t you care?”
“Yeah, I care. But she’s not saying anything
new, none of them are. They don’t know anything.”
