Preview: The Green End

Chapter 1

Growing up from the ground was a mix of ivy, blackberry vines, thistle, and dainty blue flowers that weaved around the base of two once sturdy legs, leading up to a collapsed chest cavity, that trailed up the neck and head, having been lovingly twisted into a flower crown. The crown rested just above the vacant-eyed stare of a skull with darts of too tight skin still clinging on in a facsimile of life.

Gentle hands readjusted the crown with a smile as delicate as the tiny flowers, before they moved onto plucking fresh nearby dark berries. No movement came from the flora-covered corpse, only the breeze and an occasional tug on a vine provided some sort of movement; proof it wasn’t a stone statue.

Satisfied with the amount of berries, the hands, now stained with purple juice, reached for the wicker basket on the ground and left the entrapped corpse to be reclaimed with a wave.

The walk back to the forager’s house was a short one, maybe eight minutes if she dawdled. She’d gone out mostly to check the borders of the area she called home, see that she didn’t have any new visitors. Answer had been no, just the one from months ago, and that one had stopped moving all together some weeks back.

A few birds flitted ahead of her towards her wide back garden, a reminder that she needed to put out more homemade feed. Lest they take it personally and demolish her vegetables.

Toeing off her loosely tied boots and leaving them on the stone front porch, she let herself into the cool but brightly, naturally lit home that had been in her family for the last three generations. It was only her in it now, her parents having left to join others in more densely populated areas, like the florally named Ports that acted as safe havens. Safety in numbers and all that. But they had also gotten too old for playing guardians of the forest. She missed them, but she understood.

Even the youngest of her neighbors had packed up and moved onto safer areas. Many had been here longer than her great-grandparents, but similar issues with age and a need for security when they slept drove them to abandon their woodland hearths and homes.

The solar panels her family installed just before the apocalypse came in handy for allowing temporary usage of bigger appliances like a water heater, keeping minor electronics charged-like her phone turned music player- helping to ease the feeling of isolation.

When she wasn’t playing her own music, someone else in the woods would start up with sweet, nostalgic music of their own. She never tried to go find who was playing. She knew bait when she heard it. But no one came looking for her when she played her own tunes, so in a way there was a music-based truce.

Inside, playing some once-popular radio tunes, she placed the foraging basket on the counter and began washing off the berries. Her bread starter was almost ready to make another loaf, and she had been having a hankering for some jam to go with it. The rest of the ingredients together on the counter, she swayed along with her music.

It felt good to have a kind of normal. Without her music, she’d have considered heading along with her folks to one of the Ports. Birds and deer were only good for so much conversation.

She made a mental list of supplies she’d have to venture out for soon, like more sugar, and plopped the berries into a boiling pot of water. Copper, like most of the kitchenware. A gift from her grandparents to her parents for their wedding. Left behind to take care of their only daughter when there wasn’t enough room to take it with them. 

The lid went on, and she headed to her cupboards to search for suitable containers to put some of the tradeable extras in. This is where she always briefly mourned that she hadn’t gotten into the mason jar craze, if only to have some to easily give away. Maybe a few folks she’d traded with before would be willing to exchange their empty jars of jam back. It would mean a ton, not having to source more when she went out to scavenge in the new ‘wilds’. Glass was the only option for this, more resilient than most ceramics and easier to guarantee a thorough clean. If it did break though, she was screwed. No glue out here. She sighed, closing another cupboard door.

After the berry mush was done boiling and had been strained, then processed in a water bath, she poured her seven jar’s worth, setting them aside to cool. Bathing came next, after a warm day in the sun. There hadn’t been a horde sighting in ages, so staying perfectly perfumed wasn’t strictly necessary, but it was also her favorite personal reward for a day of hard work. Soaking in the tub with the gently warm water and myriad of dried herbs and flowers, it was almost enough to forget everything that made the once frivolous pampering a mandatory tool of survival.

Almost. Water wasn’t quite warm enough for that. During summer, she redirected the generator to the water heater only for washing dishes and if she was lucky there’d be some left over. Good old well water, even now. And once she was done here, she’d siphon all the water back out to use for watering her garden or blackwater purposes. 

Nothing went to waste now. Everything had multiple purposes. Even a simple bath. 

A shadow passed over the room. She peeked open an eye. A cloud over the room’s skylight was all. Nothing unusual, but she’d had to check. The other things out there, far more unpredictable than wandering corpses, had been quiet lately. Made her a little nervous. But upcoming rains meant a chance to sleep in. 

She settled further into the water. There was more she could do if she pushed herself, always more, but she’d been up long enough. The only wringing she was interested in now was wringing the last ounce of relaxation out of this scented bath, one of the few pleasant side-effects of the green apocalypse and end of the modern world. 

A few days later, when she woke up the sun was in the wrong spot. She blinked. Okay, no, it was just earlier than normal. Certainly not the late start she’d hoped for. It wasn’t unheard of for her to wake up early, but it wasn’t common either. She stuck herself in the comfortable mid-morning usually, when it was cool but she could call it sleeping in and avoid the afternoon heat. Still groggy, she contemplated fading back down.

Thunk.

She snorted. Even in the green apocalypse, birds still managed to throw themselves into windows. Rolling over to her left, away from said window, she sunk deeper into her pillow with a pleasant sigh.

Five or so minutes passed.

Another thunk.

She frowned, not opening her eyes. Those hits sounded heavy. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a dead bird when she went out later on, she always felt bad about them passing like that. Still wasn’t enough to get her up, though.

Another, louder, thunk.

Cracking one eye open, she glanced back at the window over her shoulder. There hadn’t been any surprised buzzing of wings after any hit, when she thought of it. Nor was there any accompanying bird song further out.

Now coming to full alertness, she sat up slowly, not looking yet, trying to parse out what was going on.

No bird calls or bug chirps, only the faintest breeze if she strained her ears. It was absolutely the time of morning where natural music should be hung on every branch. She held her breath.

Thunk.

Her breath hitched.

Thunk, thunk.

It almost sounded like… knocking. Someone knocking on the window of her second story bedroom. And the knocking, if she chose to acknowledge it as such, was only getting more insistent.

Thunk, thunk.

That window had held through decades and freezing rainstorms, the apocalypse itself, and now she’d have to hope it stayed up against whatever was out there.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

She kept her eyes aimed at her lap as she scooted to the far edge of the bed. Some of the others she now shared the outside with didn’t like eye contact. So she’d heard. Now seemed like a horrible time to personally find out.

Thunkthunkthunk.

That heavy, drowning underwater feeling clung to her limbs as she moved. She pulled her blanket back. It slipped from trembling fingers, no chance to catch it. A heavy, weight, thump.

The outside noise stopped. Completely.

She messed with her ears, like that was the source of the problem. With sudden silence, she felt her mounting fear turn into annoyance.

Oh, so once she was going to do something about the noise, (hide until she thought it lost interest), is when whatever it was cut it out. Mornings in the apocalypse were hard enough without this kind of junk. She stomped over to her blinds to yank them open. No freakishly tall apparition, specter, or dead birds were lurking to her not-quite-disappointment and apprehension.

She slid a hand down her face. It was too early to think about this, and, so, she didn’t. Thinking about it could even encourage the whatever to hang around. The incoming rains would handle her garden beds so, really, focusing on inside-only tasks was the way to go.

Pulling on well-tended clothes, loose jeans with a handful of handsewn patches to cover holes and a worn-into-softness camisole, along with tie-dye bandana she’d made as a teen at a summer camp, she got to work.

Maybe five minutes into separating herb piles into more manageable groups to hang to dry, she heard a new sound. Familiar for what it was but unfamiliar in how long it had been since she last heard it. Years, probably. She strained her ears and yup… tires on gravel, up on the road above her house before there was a chance to turn right and head down into her canyon. Slow moving, but she was certain that’s what she was hearing.

She put her bundles down and headed upstairs to peek out a better window. Had this been what set off the unknown something to get her attention? Nothing in sight yet. Was it a good idea to check them out? See whoever it was before they had a chance to see her? She didn’t want to be surprised if they decided to start checking houses for supplies. Outside it was.

Keeping to the shade of the Douglas-firs her family planted, to avoid sunburn and being seen, she watched them roll into sight.

A caravan of vehicles, pulling various sized trailers and being pulled by horses and cows came around the curve of the road, clouds parting as they rolled. Like modified pioneer wagons. A couple of people, indistinguishable this far away, walked ahead. The last trailer came around the bend and the caravan rolled to a stop. Voices, unclear but unhurried, drifted down. Soon after the wheels started turning again.

Nothing about the group sung them as friendly or otherwise. Things since the apocalypse hadn’t gone full Hollywood raider where she lived but being cautious with newcomers kept you safe even before things fell apart. Especially being out here on her own. If it had been one of the others that woke her up, she still wouldn’t bank on them helping her out if things went sideways.

A small group of people forged on ahead of the caravan, not a major feat with the horses’ easygoing pace, led by a pair of elementary-sized kids. Probably not crazy raiders then.

They came to the point where the gravel path split; continuing forward or turning down the road she lived on. The kids turned to babble something at their adult companion, only to get snatched up under their arms. Screech-laughter traveled down the canyon as they flailed. Their guardian laughed too, airy and warm. It matched what features she could make out: tawny hair and skin that suggested a fair share of time spent outside and enjoying every minute of it.

How cute. Made her think of an old set of neighbors when they were still here with their two girls. They’d left before the officially recognized start of the end but when things were still plenty bad. When even their forests had been dying.

She decided she could stand to say hello. Moving slow, trying not to spook anyone and trying not to come off as desperate for human contact, she emerged from the shadows a half dozen yards away.

The kids, two boys, stopped flailing to take her in. Then they started squirming again, aiming to take the fastest way back down. Sunlight was a tad too bright to make out fine details of the adult’s expression, a man by the looks of it, but the light that came out of his face-splitting grin that popped up soon after was enough to convince her that saying ‘hi’ was a good idea.

She waved her greeting.

“Well, well, well, this road isn’t deserted after all!” The guy called out, all chipper-like.

Her own smile grew as the two squirming worms were released and rushed her, stopping shy of bowling her over. One had a toothy grin with a missing canine, the other was all big apple-cheeks, but both had tousled, curly black hair and earth-toned eyes. If she had to guess, they were roughly nine and five. They chattered out their own layering hellos and stuck out their chubby palms for handshakes. She brushed her hands clean of any clinging herb debris before offering them her left one, delighting them with the oddity.

The boys’ watcher and her made eye contact over their dark-haired heads. “Hello to you, too.” She made sure she sounded as warm as possible, match the good vibes they all positively radiated. No need to mention that he was more right than not about this road being deserted.

“What brings you and yours out this way?” Her eyes trailed over the caravan as she asked. Two SUVS of similar typing, two trucks of extreme differences, two-open bed trailers, and a long camper, each with a minimum of two hoofed animals pulling a rig. That didn’t even cover however many people were tucked away. Quite the group.

He ran a hand through already disheveled, halo-like hair. “Heading out to new pastures. Hoping to settle down in a place more suited to our group’s needs, really.” He looked back over his shoulder and up at two older women hopping out of the trucks, who looked as sun-touched as he did, to the point they matched their brown leather jackets. One waved down while the other worked on getting water for a mountain-sized mastiff. He chuckled, finding something funny only to him, before he looked back at her.

“Yeah!” Chirped the taller of the two boys. “Granny says it’s time I start schoolin’ and learnin’, so we gotta move!”

The guy ruffled both boys’ heads. “That’s not the only reason, but it’s definitely up there. Another reason is so that none of us forget our manners, which I’m in real danger of doing. I’m Reece.” Newly named Reece did a two-finger salute.

He was amazingly normal for someone worried about losing his touch with humanity. She wished she could say the same.

She brushed some of her red-brown bangs that fell out from her bandana, when had she put that on, had she slept in it?, back under. “Call me Shez.”

Her own name felt strange on her tongue. It had been some time since she was in a place with others to trade for supplies, beginning of the year after the last snow began melting, where they all already knew her name. There had been a small group that passed by two years ago, less friendly types. There had been no kind exchanges. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d introduced herself.

The politely neutral expression she got back was expected.

“That’s a weird name! Mine’s Diego,” shouted the smaller boy.

Not to be outdone, “Really weird! And I’m Andreas.” The taller one bumped Diego with his hip.

She recognized sibling antics when they stood in front of her.

“It sure is,” she nodded. She’d been hearing that since she was little and she’d hear it until the end of her days.

Reece looked physically pained even around the smile he clung to. “We don’t say stuff like that, bud.” He paused. “Even if the person you said it to agrees, it isn’t nice.”

Diego and Andreas both pouted but nodded. The older even mumbled out a ‘sorry’.

Up on the path, one of the older ladies called to the boys to come get lunch. New priority acquired, they ran back up the hill, calling a goodbye over their shoulders amidst excited dog barking.

A fresh breath of normalcy, they were. The clouds had parted for them as they arrived, they were still friendly, even had healthy looking young ones. Like fresh green growth on a tree that everywhere else looked dead and dormant. She’d breathe it in while she could. “Are they yours?”

Reece made a sound between a snort and chuckle. “Related, yes, mine, no. My world-weary looks may make me look wise beyond my years, but I’m not quite old enough to have an eight-year-old. They’re one of my cousin’s kids.”

“Ah, I see.” She hoped her laugh didn’t sound too awkward. ‘World-weary’ made him sound like he looked old, but he probably wasn’t too much older than her own age of twenty-one. “Are you all family in your group then?” Shez didn’t think she’d seen the whole group yet, but larger groups that were all family had been pretty common at one point.

“Blood or not, we claim them.” Reece said, good naturedly. He leaned in a smidge towards Shez, a playful look in his eye. “Though if you asked me, sometimes I’d rather claim the critters as kin than Great-Uncle Dan.”

She chuckled like she understood. Her family was small and linear, but it was nice to be included in social things like this. Too bad she couldn’t stick around longer. If it wasn’t going to rain, she had chores to get to. “I’m not sure how long you all plan on stopping for but this area’s been real safe for a while now. No hoards and you’re the only ones to roll through so it’s as good as any for a longer rest if needed. I’ve gotta get to watering and the like.”

Reece started. “Oh! Oh, um, of course. Didn’t mean to keep you.”

They both nodded at each other. He was too new for her to get a solid read on but it seemed like he still wanted something. But he didn’t voice it.

Shez nodded again and made to leave.

“Wait,” he finally found his words. “You’re probably real familiar with this area, right? We’ve been traveling a while with some old maps, you know how the roads changed with the Green Wave, and I’m sure the Grannies would love to pick your brain before we head too much further. How about we make you dinner and you tell us what you know, sound good?”

“That does actually.” A meal she didn’t have to make, one less chore, and of course one good turn deserved another. “A little after sunset sound reasonable?”

“Sure! I’ll let everyone know. Just head up to our trailers when you’re ready, someone will be milling about.”

“See you then.”

Her smile came easily, matching his as they waved ‘til next time’s and not ‘goodbye’s. A dinner invitation, wow, she thought as she headed through the trees and to her garden. She’d have to bring something, lest she be accused of forgetting her own manners. Maybe she’d brew a pitcher of sun tea, something that could be in the making while she worked. And she’d be willing to part with a bottle or two of pine needle soda she’d made.

            What an end that would be to a day that started so odd.

She paused, feet stalling in the pine needles. Hm. She better brew an extra special cup of tea and leave it out as appeasement. Wouldn’t want any other parties out in the woods to be offended because they felt left out or like she was ungrateful while newcomers got special treatment. Maybe a little snack, too. Yeah, that should cover it.

            She got back to walking, humming as she went. A fresh breeze rustling through the tops of the trees made them nod like they agreed this was all a good thing. The slightly musical note to the wind only served to add a pep to Shez’s step.