When the World Ends

Smells

That wasn't the first time she'd seen death.

Death was everywhere. Walking through the cities of rubble, with their cars still piled in the streets, the smell would always hit us first. We used to follow it, the smell. She wanted to bury them. I'd always told her no, we didn't have time, until one day we came across a daycare and we spent the whole day digging. And another day chipping away at stones. The children had name tags--a get-to-know each other game that I remember myself doing in elementary. She wanted to honor them, and I couldn't tell her no. We both had secretly hoped that, just maybe, the parents would come by and be at peace knowing the fate of their children.

Or would it be worse, for them to find out in that way?

   Then, one day, we came across the Kitchen.

The sky was gray.  It was always gray now, but sometimes red would show through, a dark maroon color that she used to love.

After awhile, it reminded her too much of blood. So she began to hate it.

   This whole world is bloody now, Keane.

Not all of it.

   The South's not going to be any different.

Maybe not. It's worth the try.

   I miss him, Keane.

I know. We'll find him down South. I know we will.

   Maybe he's dead.

Maybe. But maybe not.

   She was quiet after that. She didn't speak a word even as we walked into the rubble of another destroyed city. She just walked.

And she was shaking.

There was an old homeless shelter. She said it was one of those places where they handed out food to people who didn't have it. A food kitchen, or something. Neither of us could recall exactly what it had been called. It didn't matter anymore.

Let's look for food.

   No, Keane. I don't have a good feeling about this place.

It's a place for food, right? So it'll probably have something. We're running low.

   Keane, I don't wanna. This place is creepy. It's too quiet.

That's because everybody's dead now, Robin. Dead people don't make noise.

   Don't talk like that!

It's the truth.

   She had frowned at that, before huffing and walking towards the flat-roofed, gray rectangular building. I had quickly caught up, and we'd walked side by side.

She was right. It was too quiet.

   When she got to the door, she pulled the handle and said, It's unlocked.

I held my gun out, and slowly peeked into the building as she held the door open.

   Nothing. I had figured there'd be something here. No bodies at all--a shelter, of all things, should have had bodies.

But I didn't think about that back then. I was thinking of survival. And to survive, we needed food.

   I whispered, It's clear.

She'd said OK. She'd walked inside. We'd started looking for food, but even after only a few minutes, we had realized there was none. Someone had been here first, had cleared out both the food and the bodies.