Stories of the End: A Short Story Collection

The Crew

[This story takes place before and after the events of "Apartment 3C", which can be read in full on WattPad and singlequantumevent.com.]

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One: Peter Guzman

In a lot of ways, he was lucky. There were very few things keeping him in New York, and most of them were gone by now. The shop had closed down, all the other mechanics had left, and his apartment wasn't that important. He lived in a basement and owned very little. When the dead returned, he had no reason to stay.

California was as good a place as any.

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Two: Valerie DuBois

It was Valerie's idea to go West.

Peter was still surprised she came to him when everything went wrong. They weren't unfriendly, but they hadn't talked much. Outside of conversations they'd had when she'd brought in her car for repairs, the most conversation she'd had was small talk when they saw each other at the bodega. It wasn't something he would call a friendship.

Then, the world ended.

Normally, Peter wouldn't steal from his job. Any tools that belonged to the shop stayed in the shop. Some of the others were willing to bend that rule, but not Peter. The important word, though, was normally. Now the dead were walking the streets and you never knew when some hand tools would come in handy. Peter quieted the slight guilt he felt with the thought that either he'd bring it back when this was over, or that nothing would ever be the same again and his having taken a few hand tools wouldn't matter. Either way, it was worth the risk of leaving his apartment.

Valerie was lucky that the streets weren't swarmed, and that Peter wasn't too skittish. She could've been bitten or smashed in the head with a wrench under worse circumstances. Even in this circumstance, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her. He didn't recognize her at first—in the dark windbreaker she was wearing, with her back to him, she could've been any African-American woman who lived in this city. It was the brightly colored scarf she wore in her hair that clued him in. He'd seen that one before a few times.

"What are you doing?!" Peter hissed.

Valerie jumped back from the door she'd been peering into. "Oh! Oh, thank God, you're here. I was just..." She kept adjusting the straps of her backpack as she spoke. "...I was alone in my apartment but then I heard people breaking into other apartments, and I just ran for it...I guess it's good I made a bolt bag, huh?" She sounded like she was about to have a panic attack. "Anyways, I didn't know where else to go and the shop was close so I just came here and..."

"Miss DuBois," Peter said. He did his best to sound gentle but firm and not annoyed. He wasn't annoyed, but he was rattled. "I don't think we should be talking out in the open. My apartment is close. We can go there."

She was able to keep her mouth shut until they got back to his apartment. The second the door was closed, she started talking again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Uhm, so, I was alone in my apartment..." she started.

"And you heard people looting, so you ran," Peter filled in. "That was probably smart. You don't know if they would have hurt you." He gestured for her to sit down; she did almost immediately, taking off her backpack and hugging it to her chest. "Are you okay?"

"I think so? I mean, I'm not hurt physically, I'm just..." She took a deep breath. "Am I shaking? I feel like I'm shaking."

She was, a little. Peter offered her a blanket. She wrapped it around her body like a shield. "Anyways, I guess I thought, y'know, the garage has big heavy doors and it's near the bodega, so maybe it's safe there? And I was kind of hoping I'd see you. You've always been so nice to me."