Alone at the End of the World

Some of them were talking in low tones about the things they had been forced to leave behind. Their cars, some chairs, the huge family tent that Bert had shared with his wife and children. Jess looked pale and sick about having to leave the jeep behind. Jonah spread a sleeping bag on the linoleum floor so he and Vera and Janet would have something to sit on.

The RV wasn't comfortable with so many people in it. It was hot, especially since the AC wasn't used to preserve the precious gasoline. The little chemical toilet smelled terrible, even though it wasn't clogged yet. The kids and their mothers were the most comfortable, since the little bedroom was at the forefront of the RV and it had some windows. All of the other rooms were downwind of the toilet, and the windows only opened a tiny ways.

Jonah would have paid anything, given anything for just a moment of privacy. He even went to the disgusting bathroom just so he could have a moment alone. He looked at himself in the mirror. His dark hair was shaggy, and a little greasy. He did his best, but finding the time and energy to heat up water and take a sponge bath was taxing, and it was hard to wash your hair in a bucket. His eyes were pale blue, and bloodshot from weeping.

Just looking into his own bloodshot eyes started him off again. He cried in low hurt moans, muffling them by biting down on his forearm. He cried because he was afraid, and because there was a violent man who wanted to force him over and over again. He cried because he was lonely and he desperately wanted another man. He cried because the world was ended, and because his parents and anyone who had ever loved him was dead.

He jumped when someone knocked on the door. "Hurry up! I gotta go!" It was either Ben or Franklin, one of Jenna's boys. Jonah swiped his arm over his eyes and stumbled out of the stinking bathroom. It was Franklin, you could tell because though they were identical, Franklin had a crew cut and Ben had longer hair. Everyone looked at him, they must have been able to hear him while he was crying.

Jonah cringed with humiliation and fled to the kitchen. Harold muttered "Fucking faggot!" under his breath, but not soft enough for Jonah not to hear. He sat on the sleeping bag with his knees to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Vera had the tact not to bother him, and Janet was crying herself.

---

When asked where they were headed, David told them that there was a small isolated farm that he and Mark had driven by. They had gone by because of a small herd of crazies wandering around the barn, but it was isolated and roomy, over three miles away from the nearest farmhouse, and five miles away from the nearest residential area. It didn't look looted, so there was even the possibility of some extra supplies. There was a river nearby, so water would be harder to get, but not an issue.

Jonah was trying to get some sleep. He felt sick to his stomach, they were actually going to try and hunt the crazies. He still had nightmares about them. He had been caught in a tree with two of them snarling and clawing and trying to climb at the bottom. He hadn't slept, because he had to stay awake and poke them with a long branch when they managed to climb too close. He had run out of water and drunk his own piss out of thirst. Their screams had made him think he was going insane.

Vera nudged his shoulder. "You want to stay alert honey. The boss says we're only a few miles away." Jonah heard the slight sarcasm in her voice, but it was only slight. In less then a day, David and Mark had taken over, and with good reason.

Jonah hated and feared Mark, and he thought that David was controlling, but without those two, people would have died. They kicked into leadership mode when the rest of them had been cowering in their tents, too terrified of the crazies to defend themselves. Jonah felt a rush of guilt. Mark was a hero, Mark had saved their lives. How could he even think about trying to turn the others against him?

Jonah was caught. If he told anyone about what Mark did, then the camp would be in chaos again. Vera and the woman would defend him, and possibly Davis or the Doc. David's authority would be undermined, the camp would fight and be filled with turmoil. People could get hurt.

Better he not tell anybody. Better that everyone stayed safe and sane. It was just sex, Mark wouldn't hurt him, would he? Jonah had to choke down the sobs, and try to make himself forget how afraid he had been, the sting of Mark's slap on his cheek, the low threatening growl of his voice.

In a very small way, Jonah was almost grateful that the crazies had attacked. No one had gotten hurt, but no one bothered him about how much he was crying. Everyone had broken down in some way.

David came back from the drivers compartment, his face was grim. "My best shooters are Jess, Mark, Annette, and Melvin. The next best are Bert, Davis, Vera, Jonah, and Janet. The rest of you are a liability at best, and a danger at worst. Those I didn't name will run out in a circle and STAY near the RV no matter what. My best shooters will be with me, and we will run out and stay about ten meters behind the rickety wooden fence. If they get that close, the fence will get them caught up. They are stupid motherfuckers."

"Davis will be in charge of the second best. There were about thirty when we were there. You will be about fifty meters behind us, and when we retreat, you will shoot while we run back behind you to reload. We should be able to get rid of a lot in the first volley, at least half. This is dangerous, and everyone needs to be with me. Do not shoot if one of us is in the way. If one of us dies of friendly fire, it will be on your conscious forever."

His eyes were cold and dead. Jonah shivered. "If we pull back to the RV, hopefully their numbers will be reduced to very few, and we can shoot them through the screen door, or lure them to the bedroom windows and shoot them there. They are strong crazy motherfuckers, so be careful."

The RV pulled to a stop as they were loading their guns. The best shooters had the best guns, assault rifles. The second best had a mixture of hunting rifles and Bert had a shotgun. The last shooters, Jenna, Harold, the Doc, and despite Jenna's protests, Stacey, had handguns.

They hopped out of the RV.

---

The best shooters managed to run about 200 meters to the rickety fence without the milling group of crazies noticing. Thirty or so crazies were wandering around the carcass of a horse. Two were kneeling and tearing away pieces of it and shoving it in their mouths. All of them had blood on their mouths. Who knew how long they had been wandering aimlessly around the horse, feeding when they were hungry, squabbling with themselves. The rest of the livestock had either run away or already been killed.

Jonah moaned when the first bullets fired, taking out three crazies and making the herd run to the best shooters. A few more crazies ran from the barn, and one came out of the shoulder-high corn. A two volleys of shots rang out among the best shooters, each volley brought down four or five of the crazies. Then it was just wild shooting. More of the crazies fell. Melvin and Annette ran first, out of Ammo and too afraid to reload with crazies running towards them. The terror on their faces was surreal.

David was the last one to break ranks, reloading when a ragged band of crazies was barely fifty meters away. Then he ran, his combat boots hitting the ground and sending up puffs of dust.

Jonah ran forward with his hunting rifle and shot two rounds. One missed, but the other hit a crazy in the stomach and brought it down. The noise was deafening. Shots went wild, but the first attack had decimated the crazies, and only eight from the first group were still running.

The best shooters were suddenly with the second-best, reloaded and ready. The last crazy from the first group died a good forty yards away, shot by both Mark and Davis. There were four crazies, two from the barn and two from the feilds still running, but David with his lazer scope, picked them off one by one.

Standing in the dusty grass, panting, ears ringing, they all burst into elated, crazed laughter.

---

It wasn't over yet. Dragging the bodies was a chore for everyone, and even the best shooters had to roll up their sleeves and don rubber gloves and drag the bodies over to the road. The survivors put them in a ditch about half a mile from the farmhouse. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves. Maybe they were safer from crazies out here, but what about looters? A fire would not be a good idea, or a biohazard of rotting bodies too close to the water source.

That was a piece of magnificent luck. Even in his mood, Jonah was overjoyed by the find. The farm had a windmill-driven pump, and a storage tank full of fresh clean ice-cold water. All of the taps and spigots in the house worked, even the showers and toilets, though there was no longer hot water.

The occupants of the house were a mystery, because any framed photo's had been taken. There were paler patches on the rose silk wallpaper where photos had been taken away. From the rooms and clothes, it looked like an older couple. They had run away, taking clothes and pictures and maybe some food and camping gear, but they had left a massive cellar behind.

Jonah went with the rest of them. They held a hissing Coleman lantern and they exclaimed and pushed and shoved in the small space.

"Canned fruit! Oh I miss having fruit so much! There are peaches and pears and..."

"Shit, look at this! It's a whole fucking ham in a can! I didn't even know they DID that..."

"There must be enough Dinty Moore beef stew to last a person a lifetime..."

Vera was given the job of documenting all of the amazing goods they found in the cellar. She nodded and got to work, smiling the whole time. They felt rich. There was really no other way of putting it. After days of watching their dwindling supplies and eating charred squirrel to flesh out their rations, the cellar was a godsend.

Jonah helped unpack. Mark was keeping watch on the roof, so he felt a little safer. He asked Janet if he could share the guest room with her and Annette and Ned. They seemed a little surprised, but gracious. Jonah felt a throb of relief. Mark wouldn't bother him if he was with someone else, would he?

---

That night they were eating a meal of baked beans, ham, canned peaches, and heated up pie filling for dessert. It felt so good to eat second helpings. Vera was passing around the list, and that just lifted spirits more. Rationing would start tomorrow, they didn't want to squander it all away, but just to know that they had enough food to last them for months was a cheerful thought.

David broke the schedule to them gently. He wanted two people on watch every minute of the day, in four hour shifts. They would have the best guns, and a small air horn that they had found in the cellar. One blast on the air horn would mean people, two would mean crazies. Guns would be put near windows and the two doors.

"If any of the cows or horses wander back, put 'em in the barn. We can figure out how to butcher and preserve 'em."

That led to a lazy argument about the usefulness of a horse, but Jonah wasn't listening. He was wondering wether or not to volunteer for the first shift. He was tired, but if he volunteered first, Mark might try to be his partner for four hours, and he couldn't handle that.

Harold and Mark ended up taking the first shift, and Jonah set up a sleeping bag on the thick shaggy rug, exhausted and determined to have good nights sleep.

-------------

Jonah woke up, and with some surprise. He hadn't suffered a single bad dream, and he had slept the whole night through. Weak sunshine filtered through the window, it was very cloudy outside, and it looked like it would rain soon. Jonah's bladder felt tight and full. He got up, trying not to wake anyone. Janet and Annette were sleeping soundly, and in sleep Annette looked younger and prettier, while Janet looked almost like a child. Ned slept between them, looking angelic.

Jonah considered putting on pants, but he decided that he was fine in his sleep-shirt. After all, he was only going to take a leak...

He snuck past the upstairs bathroom They had found out last night that the upper floor bathroom didn't work very well. There were three bedrooms upstairs. Bert, Jenna, and their children slept in the one with two double beds. David, Mark, Jess, and the Doc shared the other. Vera and Davis slept in a tiny attic room on the army cot for privacy. Melvin and Harold slept on a cot and a sleeping bag in the den.

The den was a tiny room with a desk and several mounted animal heads. Despite the evidence that the former resident had been an avid deer and grouse hunter, there was no sign of any of his ammo or guns. He had obviously thought that those were important enough to bring, if not a larger stash of food.

It looked like no one was up, so Jonah went outside to see who was on watch. He waved up at Davis and the Doc, who waved back, but didn't say anything. They both looked tired and cranky, so Jonah went back in to take care of business and take a snooze.

He stepped inside the doorway and turned to close the door. When he turned back around, Mark was standing right there. Jonah nearly screamed but the burly young man reached out with both hands. One clamped over his mouth, and the other clamped over his throat.

A sudden and shocking lack of air. A terrible pressure on his windpipe. His handsome southern face an inch from his, smelling breath mints and body odor. He leaned closer, and as Jonah's body burned up all of the oxygen in his lungs with the adrenaline and shock of the attack, Mark whispered in his ear.

"Bad little queerboy. Maybe you didn't get it through your skull the first time, but I am a man, and I have needs. You are a queer, and you are gonna satisfy my needs. Every day, and twice a day if I want it."

Jonah struggled weakly, his hands feebly batting at Mark's arms, growing lightheaded.

"You gonna listen to me now? You gonna be a good little queer? If you make a noise, I'm gonna fucking choke you."

Mark released his throat and mouth and Jonah dropped to his knees on the soft green rag-rug in the entryway. His first shuddering gulp of oxygen made him weak as every muscle relaxed. He took another desperate gulp of oxygen, his face red and streaming with tears. Mark yanked him up by the arm and put his hand gently on Jonah's throbbing throat.

"Gonna be good to me queer? Answer me you little fucker."

Jonah nodded, crying and gasping for air. Mark shushed him and dragged him by his wrist into the cellar. It was dark, and Jonah stumbled. The door closed behind him as he crept down the wooden stairs. He took three more steps, whimpering and taking fast hot pants of air down his sore throat. Mark's hands appeared on his shoulders in the dark, and shoved him down to his knees on the oily dirt floor.

A moment of fumbling, and Mark's cock was in his mouth. It was hard as a rock, and it only took him ten thrusts into Jonah's open mouth to come. Jonah was choking and crying and trying to wipe the come off of his face.

Mark's hand squeezed his jaw. "You okay queerboy?" His voice was soft and gentle again. He could have been a boyfriend, gently saying that he had a great time, or asking him how he wanted his eggs in the morning.

Jonah tried to talk, but he couldn't. His voice was too shaky. He cringed, waiting for Mark to hit him again, but Mark never did. Mark just kept stroking the side of his face, waiting for him to stammer the words out. Jonah hadn't stammered once before Mark. Already the stress and the fear was turning his words into things that could choke him.

He longed for that gentle touch, needed it. Mark was crazy. Mark was playing good cop and bad cop with one man. There was nice Mark and nasty Mark. Jonah leaned into his hand and nodded, so Mark could know that he had nodded.

"Good boy... That's a good boy." Jonah started to cry a little as the large strong man rubbed his hand over Jonah's cheek. This was a fantasy of his. A big muscular man crooning to him while he sucked the man off. But now it was just perverted and frightening and unwilling and wrong.

"Here. I found it in the drawer." Jonah fumbled with a flat plastic case. "It's cover-up. You know how to put on makeup, right boy?" Mark was putting his cock back in his pants. Jonah whispered "yes" in a very small voice.

"I knew it, all queers know that shit. Put that on your little neck when you go upstairs. Or we are going to have a bit of an argument." As he said those words, he ran his fingers gently down Jonah's bruised throat. "Got it?"

"Yes Mark." Jonah whimpered. Mark was suddenly clomping up the stairs.

"And sleep somewhere else. Ask if you can sleep in the RV."

Every part of Jonah wanted to deny him, and defy him. But the deeper part of him, the survival part of him knew that he just had to keep Mark happy. It was the only way that everyone would be okay. David was an amazing new leader. If Mark was compromised, David would be compromised. If the camp turned against each other, hell would break loose. He couldn't let someone get hurt because he was afraid of a few bruises.

That's what he told himself. His voice still came out in a weak little sob when he whispered. "Yes Mark."

---

David really was a good leader. Five minutes after Jonah put makeup on the red marks on his neck, he went around calling for people to meet down in the kitchen, even those on the roof.

"We need to keep busy. I was in Iraq for four years, and I saw people get crazy when they had to go out and do terrible shit, and then just sit at their tent and stare at a book for hours. There are plenty of jobs to do, and I want everyone to be doing them. There will be KP, cleanup duty, firewood collecting, digging and filling in latrines, watch duty, laundry. Hell, might as well throw in learning how to take care of the crop. It's too big for us to handle, even if all seventeen of us were to work the field by hand, we wouldn't be able to do the job of one man with a tractor."

"However, the canned food wont last forever, and we need to learn how to live off the land. It doesn't seem like a priority now, because even if we run out of food, there are still supermarkets that haven't been looted, but they will be. We gotta learn how to be dependent on ourselves."

With that short speech, he started dividing up duty. The laundry team was unchanged, Jonah, the women and Davis. Stacy would babysit the kids and they would be on meal duty with Jess to help them out. It surprised people when he volunteered, but with a strait face, he said that he liked to cook.

Harold and Melvin were on firewood-collecting. The Doc and Mark were digging a latrine. Everyone was disappointed when David told them no more using the running toilet.

"It runs to a septic tank, and we have no way of emptying it once it's full. We can use that tank for about a hundred shits, but we have no way of knowing if it's full because the electric indicator isn't on. The only way we'd know if it's full is if shit started leaking downhill from where it's buried not ten feet from the house."

David and Bert were on the roof for that four-hour shift. Everyone else got to work.

---

When everyone came back for lunch, they were starving. It felt good to work, to do something. It smelled pretty ripe though, most of them hadn't taken baths for two days, and with the hard exertion, you could really smell it.

David said that it would be better to use the river, because it was already warm from the sun and they wouldn't have to heat any of the cold well-water with the firewood that had been laboriously collected.