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    This Is The End
    This Is The End
    This Is The End
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    This Is The End

    By S.E. O'Connor

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    About this ebook

    Kyle Thomas is not having a good day. Lactose intolerant, and sick from having had dairy, he is one of the few survivors when everything goes berserk. Unsure what's actually happening to himself and the friend he's saved, they begin the arduous task of escaping their hometown.
    Unfortunately, the military is awaiting their arrival.
    They are taken prisoner, where things take a turn for the worse.
    When it appears that the military has become overwhelmed by the local populace, Kyle and the few survivors must flee the city. In the event of failure, the city is set for 'cleansing.'
    Can they escape? What happens if someone is bitten?
    Things seem bleak for our anti-heroes, but they continue to fight the good fight. They survive and hide, learning that the town did not survive. Of course, with the outbreak of those infected by the biological weapon, what will happen to those outside the town?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherS.E. O'Connor
    Release dateApr 19, 2015
    ISBN9781311320681
    This Is The End
    Author

    S.E. O'Connor

    S.E. lives in the Midwest where she looks for chaos in every step. With a desk covered in mini-figures and a brain filled with stories, she looks to join the ranks of storyteller and see her work take flight.

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      Book preview

      This Is The End - S.E. O'Connor

      87

      This Is The End

      S.E. O'Connor

      Dedicated to

      Maddex, Justin and The Pike

      for always believing in me and having my back

      You really don't know what it means to have you on my side

      Chapter 1

      In retrospect, I suppose it was the fried chicken that started it all.

      Under normal circumstances, I was all about the greasy, artery-hardening goodness. It was a weekly ritual for pretty much everyone in town, what with the local chicken farm. Seemed everyone owed the owners of the farm their soul, because those chickens were so damned good. I've never seen another town that was so involved with the local economy the way ours was with the chicken, but every week the local groceries (all both of them) carried the fried chicken from Zeke's place.

      But the night in question, I found myself feeling a bout of intestinal distress. In layman's terms, I felt like shit. Literally. It sucked. I told mom that I wasn't feeling up to her Fried Chicken and Ridiculously Over-Seasoned Mashed Potatoes night, which earned me the stink eye. Of course it did. Mom hated it when I didn't want to eat, like I was down in my basement eating junk or watching porn (I usually was.) Or worse yet, doing drugs (I didn't know anyone who did them, let alone anyone who would dare sell to the likes of me. I was always broke.)

      I'm not a narc. I'm not. But I'm not exactly known as a bad boy, either. I s'pose I should introduce myself. The name's Thomas, Kyle Thomas. Doesn't that just strike fear into the hearts of evil doers? Yeah, not really. But then, to look at me, I couldn't even strike fear into the heart of my younger sister. She was a mean-ass little thing and would beat anyone who so much as looks at her cross-eyed. Which I have. And I bear the scars as proof of the deed.

      I was your average, ordinary, everyday guy. Nothing exciting to see here folks, just keep moving. But then, if I was average and ordinary, would you be reading this? Probably not. I know, you're wondering why I've bothered to write this at all. What prompted a nobody to write a memoir of his life when there was nothing to write about? Well, I'm getting to that.

      As I said, I guess it was the fried chicken that started it all. I could hear my folks upstairs eating and laughing, while I hid away in my basement lair. I'd closed the door, because even the smell of the chicken was making me ill. But I could hear them through the vent ducts. Dad had never bothered to install the drop ceiling in the basement, though I'd begged him year after year. So I could hear far more than I really wanted to. Like the way they laughed about how I was missing a damned fine meal, but that they wouldn't bother to save me any because I was a pansy.

      Assholes.

      It's a running joke that I was adopted. Sometimes I think they're serious. I mean, I don't look anything like the rest of my family. Mom and Dad were both blond and gorgeous. Hell, even Kelsey was blond and very attractive, even for her age. Not that I paid much attention to her, except when calling her 'troll face,' or something equally repugnant. But then there's me. Lanky, tall and dark. I hate cutting my hair, so it's nearly shoulder-length and dark. Not black, but like a dark wood. Mahogany or something, maybe? I'm not sure. I don't pay attention to shit like that.

      Anyway, I was sprawled on my beanbag chair, staring at the laptop screen and IM'ing one of my buddies in England when I heard something heavy hit the floor above my head and roll. I tapped out a quick 'brb' and set the laptop down on the nearby table. Standing, I started for the stairs. Maybe it was nothing, but mom and dad were usually pretty anal about us dropping shit on the floor. And the thump was pretty heavy-sounding.

      I'm not sure what it was, call it intuition or just a severe case of the heebie-jeebies, but I took the stairs quietly. One at a time, I ascended, and tried to make no noise. Looking back, I can't remember why I was so determined to be so quiet, but I was. I paused at the door and leaned my cheek against it, eyes shut. I concentrated, wanting to listen and see what had happened. Were they going to give Kelsey the what-for for dropping something? Or maybe mom was going to read dad the riot act for being a clumsy dork. Who knew?

      But instead, there was silence. Nothing. Not even mom's radio was playing.

      Sometimes, mom would turn on the radio to give atmosphere to our dinners. Kelsey and I usually just laughed it off, but it made her happy. It was like playing the music gave her life some meaning or something existential. But there was just nothing. And again, I guess it was my nerd-senses tingling or something, but I opened the door slowly and as quietly as I dared.

      It took a full minute to comprehend what I was seeing at the table.

      The dining room was just down the hall from my basement lair, in the kitchen, and I could see the table clearly. Sitting at her normal spot was Kelsey, covered in something red and thick-looking. I didn't see dad anywhere. And mom... mom was laying on the floor. Or at least her head was. I could make out the bloody-blonde hair and god only knew what else spreading out from where the head had been ripped from the body. Said body was nowhere to be seen. And Kelsey just sat at the table, like it was no big deal.

      Curiosity, and no small amount of stupidity propelled me forward. It was like all those goddamned horror movies, where you wanna shout at the actor on the screen to just get the fuck out of there. I should have just ducked back down into my lair and locked the door from my side and called the cops. Should'a, would'a, could'a, am I right? But I ventured out, leaving the door ajar, and started down the hallway. The smell hit me less than halfway down. Meaty and metallic, it was unlike anything I'd ever encountered in my life. And while I might not be the most worldly of individuals, having something so new and weird assaulting my senses was enough to make me react violently. I gagged a little and covered

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