It’s Not Always The End – fanfic by Stevie Williams

Hey guys, I really want to share my fanfic I did ☺️

As you all know I am a massive fan of The Ending Series by Lindsey Pogue and Lindsey Fairleigh. I had the chance to write my own story within their world.

Here is a snippet and you can read the whole story on Wattpad.

It’s Not Always The End

Lily

Stanfield, Oregon – December 12th

I hadn’t thought it possible to imagine the earth opening its gates to hell and devouring the entire world. Sucking the light straight from it, like an uncontrollable thirst, it would swallow up life. Hellfire, like hot lava, would rage in relentless rivulets, dragging everything in its path. Spewing up darkness as it quenched that thirst and as the bones buckled from beneath, it would crumble to dust.

But I was wrong.

I felt that same hellfire beneath my skin as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. The fever melted my insides and boiled my veins, using them to spread throughout my whole body.

I let out a groan as I attempted to breathe, struggling with short gasps of air I raked into my lungs, quivering every time I inhaled.

This is hell.

Well, actually it’s Stanfield, a small ass town in a constant cloud cover. I perched on the window seat at my mom’s house and stared out at the town I’d grown up in, but all I could see was Hell. I don’t think it ‘d surprise me if the red-horned guy himself walked across my drive.

The streets vacant and abandoned from life.

That’s because everyone is dead, Lily…

I buried my clammy face into my hands and my dark hair fell down, surrounding me, like curtains it closed me in. If only it was that easy. To close the curtains and forget.

Forget the last week.

Forget the death.

Forget the ending.

I never thought I’d beg for myself to die. Never. I loved my life.

It was full and happy and perfect. Until everyone died.

It was only the flu they said, it will pass they said.

Lies.

I grew numb to the news broadcasts. Like my body had run out of tears to cry. I mean, how many times could a girl react hysterically to the headlines; “HUNDREDS DEAD.”

“THOUSANDS DEAD.” Before it became normal to hear another town had been wiped out. With one line that repeated on a loop inside my head, “we wish you luck.”

We wish you luck! LUCK!

It will take more than luck. That’s when the silence came.

Then my mom fell sick, and I felt hollow inside.

I still do…

But it was just the flu, right? My mom wouldn’t, you know…

I dragged my hands over my face and realized the gray clouds had darkened, shadowing the hell outside and giving me another day still breathing.

Great.

My green eyes stared back at me. Mocking me. They looked dull and lifeless, yet my lungs still inflated and my heart still pumped the blood around my body. My joints burned and my limbs shook.

I stumbled towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. The heaviness that rocked my body as I passed my moms bedroom, sank like an anchor into the deep blue sea. Colliding with the rocks at the bottom.

Rock bottom.

I pressed my palm flat against the door and fell to my knees.

Sometimes I can still hear her, sometimes I can still see her. But then I’m reminded that hell took her too like it took everyone. Acid crawled up my pipes, inching its clammy fingers higher and higher. I couldn’t stop the vomit from spilling from my mouth. I sank to the floor, my guts convulsed, emptying its little to nothing contents down myself. Leaving me a fragile shell.

I wanted to die. Desperate for the pain to end. Waiting to be swallowed up. But instead, I suffered. The virus attacked my body and memories attacked my mind, with my soul trapped in the middle, grasping on the tug of war of life. It was cruel, and I didn’t understand what I’d done to deserve it. I curled up, tucking my knees into my chest and cried. The sobs shook my thin body, vibrating through my hollow chest.

I guess my tears hadn’t dried up after all.

Will

Stanfield, Oregon- December 12th

The December sun peaked through, giving this dull town one last tease of warmth that never came. As the clouds rolled in over the twilight sky, concealing the moon and stars, ominous shadows cast in the dark corners of yet another abandoned town.

The leather of my kit creaked as I eased off the throttle and swung my motorcycle to a halt. I pulled my helmet off and ran my hand over my shaven head while I stared at another town deserted. It had gone from bad to worse at every stop I’d made. I hadn’t seen another living soul since two towns back and then the woman wasn’t with it, I think she must have been pissed up or something. I knew shit was bad, but not this bad.

I looked around and the local stores had been looted and vehicles abandoned. It was like the god damn apocalypse. This damn place was lifeless, and I thought I’d entered the fucking set of the walking dead or something.

Talk about feeling like the end of the world.

I thought it was being blown out of proportion and it was nothing to worry about. But the closer I got to home the heavier my heart felt inside my chest. The pressure spoke to me, my inner thoughts yelling at me. It was not my friend, it teased me, taunted me, you know what you will find, you know you’re mom is…

I swallowed hard, pushing on the boundaries between fear and facts.

Is it the end of the world as we know it?

I struggled to believe that.

I’d been on the road for a little over a week. Only stopping to refuel or set up camp and eat. Swinging my leg over my bike, I stood and stretched out my shoulders. Grabbing my water I took a long drink. Letting it spill down my face and trickle down my neck. Though the wind had been strong and I’d enjoyed the ride, I was still sweating my balls off.

The urgency of my moms voice still fresh on my mind as the memory of her call a few days ago rang in my skull.

I told her to sit tight and I’d come and see her. It pissed me off that the damn news anchors frightening her. Really got under my skin. Especially as I was too far away to help.

I’d gotten over the flu pretty quick and with my mom’s paranoia, I was hoping she’d missed catching it altogether. The crazy woman had more hand sanitizer than socks!

“Hello, anyone here?” Shit, this place was dead. I kicked a can across the highway and as it bounced through the empty road, I felt a shiver run down my spine. I turned full circle, crunching gravel under my boots and ran my hand over my head. The town wasn’t as it should be, it was devoured of warmth that made it worthy of that term. You couldn’t call Standfield a town, not anymore. It was just concrete structures left behind.

I continued over to a small convenience store. The windows smashed through, glass and scattered garbage spread out in front, blowing in the breeze.

I leaned inside dipping my head through the broken door and gripped the frame. “Hello?”

Empty.

I rummaged around what was left of this place and grabbed a few bottles of water and some food. Stepping over towards the cash register, I again leaned over the desk. “I’ll take some bourbon too,” I said and pulled a couple of notes from my pocket. “Keep the change.”

I Tucked the money under a newspaper that was left on the counter. With my arms full, I was about to leave when the headline caught my eye.

“With the death toll rising, we wish you luck.”

A bottle slipped from my arm and hit the ground with a thud. “Fuck. We wish you luck? Jesus.”

I dropped the rest of the water and food and unscrewed the cap off the bourbon and gulped down a mouthful. Wiping my face with the back of my hand I leaned against the counter. “Double fuck.”

I drank half of that damn bottle whilst reading through the paper.

Almost questioning my own sanity as the words jumbled inside my skull and my brain struggled to make sense of what I read. Stories of unconfirmed psychotic side effects disturbed me more. The reporter had headed his article; “A DEATH VIRUS OR A PSYCHOLOGICAL BREAKDOWN?”

Shit had really hit the fan and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for getting over the flu so easily. Sure, I’d felt like shit, but for like two or three days. How had that flu killed so many? Was everyone actually dead? And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what side effects they were going on about.

I rubbed my hand over my head and set the bottle of bourbon down.

I really hope my crazy mother is okay.

I stuffed my back box with the few supplies I’d grabbed and straddled my bike. Plan, get home, I’m was about an hour and a half’s drive away. Hug my mom, eat and sleep.

One problem, I was half cut from that damn bourbon and the last thing I wanted was to not actually reach my mom and end up in a ditch. The new plan, eat, sleep, then ride through the night.

Pulling my bike to the side of the highway, I thought this was as good a place than any. The sooner I sobered up, the sooner I’d be able to help my mom.

It hit me, the real extent of the problem, the world’s problem. Where was everyone? Had anyone survived this? And if they hadn’t where were their bodies? I couldn’t think straight, knowing my mom was alone. I had to get to her, then we’d figure something out together.

I rubbed my eyes, squinting through the ache. They felt strained. Maybe I’d been riding too long before a rest and the concentration had been too much.

Man, my head hurt and my eyes burned. I sat down and lent against my bike, kicked off my boots and sighed.

I was pretty hungry but couldn’t shift my ass to light a fire, let alone set up my tent, so I settled on some chips and soda. With my shoulders slouched I nestled down against my bike. The thoughts spun around in my head. My mom being at the front of my mind and not knowing what fuck I’m going to do if… well, you know.

Happy reading!

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3 thoughts on “It’s Not Always The End – fanfic by Stevie Williams

  1. Hey there, how you doing!? I just went through your blog and its totally fab, keep up this effort love and have a nice day! ❤
    Looking forward to reading from your blog more 🙂
    You have a new follower 😉

    Like

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