The Barn at the End of the World

Cora pushed the rickety old shopping cart, and Max followed with his tail wagging and nose to the ground. Every day they walked. Miles upon miles. They stopped only to sleep or scavenge for food and supplies.

The abandoned houses along the way smelled so severely of decayed flesh that any appetite would be gone. Well, maybe not for Max. He was always hungry. Still, they scavenged. Cora filled her pack and her cart, and they trekked on.

Max was partial to cans of dog food, but he took what he could get. Cora was always most excited when she found Chef Boyardee Mini Raviolis and Meatballs--far superior to Spaghettios, in her opinion. Also, Strawberry Poptarts. Both were childhood favorites. These days, everything she did seemed to be driven by nostalgia. It's why they walked.

She left San Diego on March 30th with plans to arrive at her family farm in Point Everett, Maine, by the fall. That meant walking an estimated 20-30 miles each day.

The idea was daunting. That's why she hadn't left sooner. She considered trying to make the trip by car. But, most roadways were blocked, and it wasn't like she had anything else to do these days. So, she walked.

Cora began the trip on her own. As far as she knew, everyone she had ever known was dead and gone. She had no one to invite on her journey.

She met other travelers along the way, but this wasn't happening the way Stephen King had written it. Cora had no Mother Abigail or Dark Man to guide her. If there was divine involvement, she was left out of the loop. Everyone had their own paths to follow. Some stayed for a day, maybe a week. Eventually, everyone drifted. Temporary companions.

Robby was the first. And probably the best. Most memorable, that was for sure. Cora had been walking for nearly three weeks and hadn't seen a single living soul. Her old iPod had quit working a few days earlier. This was before Max.

Her only company was her own thoughts and the sound of her footsteps on the pavement. Accustomed to being the only person around, she became complacent. She dropped her guard.

She was in the canned food aisle of Fry's Food in Tempe, Arizona, scooping up the last few cans of ravioli-- cheese-- blargh.

A deep voice called out, "nice ass" from behind her, and she jumped, startled. Pain laced through her head as she smacked it against the shelf above. Cans clattered to the tile floors as she clutched her head with one hand and tried to cover her ass with the other one.

"What the fuck, man?' she glared at him. "You can't just sneak up on people like that."

His chuckle was deep and rumbly and, she grinned despite herself. She gave him an appraising glance- tight jeans, leather jacket, big hands, full lips. Sexy. Probably a heartbreaker. Before the world ended, she would have avoided his type like the plague. But now, she had avoided the actual plague. What did she have to lose?

"I'm Cora." She said, reaching out her hand. When he took her hand in his, she thought she felt actual sparks shoot up her arm.

They managed to find an empty house. Empty of the living and the dead. That was a good thing. The smell would have killed the mood, and that would have been a shame.

After, they sat on the floor in front of the fire and talked about their plans. Robby was headed to Utah to find his parents. They both knew that they were probably dead, but she understood his need to know.

Cora told him about their seaside family farm. Her favorite place on Earth. He was alarmed at how far she planned to travel. He invited her to go to Utah with him.

The thought was tempting, but she was on a mission. All she wanted was to be home. Besides, she secretly hoped to find her Nana alive. Not that she would admit that out loud.

Wanting to change the subject, she picked up the can of ravioli they were sharing and batted her eyelashes at him.

"Chef Boyardee," She sighed. "You sure know how to treat a girl. How romantic."

He looked down at her, bemused. "Oh, come on, you know this is the best date you've had all year."

She laughed. Plague jokes. She appreciated his gallows humor. But then it hit her. This was her first time since Brian died. She felt a gut punch of guilt, and her laughter turned into a choked sob.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. I'm sorry." Robby pulled her into his arms.

She let him hold her for a moment before extracting herself and getting dressed.

Robby seemed to understand that things had shifted. He spent the rest of the night on the couch, and she took the only bed. The following day they went their separate ways.

There were others- a couple in Kansas. High school sweethearts. Like her and Brian. Cora's insides had twisted in jealousy upon hearing that. How lucky they were to both survive. An old man in Missouri. A teenage girl who had run away from her in Indiana. And more, less memorable.

She found Max in Cincinnati-- or he found her. That was more accurate. One morning she woke up to hot dog breath against her cheek. Cora looked into his deep hound dog eyes and scratched behind his long silky ears. That was that. He hadn't left her side since. Her constant companion.

On the day they crossed over the border from New Hampshire to Maine, her eyes burned with tears of relief. Almost there. She could practically taste the salt air. She pushed the cart with a new urgency. Home.

Cora fell to her knees and sobbed when they reached the fisherman's village of Point Everett two days later. Max butted his wet nose against her face and whined in concern. She patted his head. "It's OK, boy. We are almost there. We will be home soon." He wagged his tail and let out a howl in response.

Walking through Point Everett was like walking through a time capsule. It was always like that, even before the plagues had wiped out most of humanity. It was a tiny fishing village frozen in time. But, now it was even more so. There was an absolute stillness that should have given it a sinister feel, but instead, it felt peaceful.

She passed through the small town center. The old pharmacy where they would go for milkshakes. The town common where in the winter they would ice skate on the frozen pond. It was all wrong now, in it's abandoned state. But it was still home.

Home. Home. Home. Her mind chanted in rhythm with her quickening footsteps.

When they reached the long winding road that led to her grandparents' farm, Cora began to run. Pushing the noisy cart up the hill. Max giving chase behind her.

Heart pounding in her chest, lungs gasping for air, she let go of the cart and stood hunched with her hands on her knees, gazing out at the place she had been dreaming of for the past six months.

Low rolling hills of green gave way to the rocky shore and then the ocean beyond it. The family land hadn't always been a farm. The land sat at the end of a peninsula and was home to a small lighthouse on the rocky shoreline. When the lighthouse had been decommissioned in the 1930s, Cora's great-grandparents purchased the land.

It was the most beautiful place on Earth as far as Cora was concerned. More beautiful than any island paradise and more magical than a Disney theme park. After high school, she followed Brian to San Diego, but this was always her home.

The happiest days of her life were spent on this farm, specifically in the barn. The barn sat on the furthest point of the property, just before the grass turned to rock. When she was little, before she knew the Earth was round, she thought the farm was at the end of the world.

Every summer and every holiday, her parents would pack Cora and her brother into their minivan and make the journey from Boston. The ride felt endless. She remembered how she would badger her parents with relentless questions. "Are we there yet?" How much longer?"

Cora wondered what her child self would say if she could tell her that someday she would walk to the farm from California?

She left the cart at the edge of the property and pondered the aging white farmhouse that sat on the south side of the farm. Nana? Her heart ached with hope, but she wasn't ready yet. And the barn called to her like a beacon.

The hinges groaned loudly in protest as she pulled the heavy barn doors open. Max shuffled inside with his nose to the ground sniffing happily. Cora couldn't blame him. She stood there in the doorway and breathed in the scents of salt air, old wood, and hay. The smells of her childhood.

When she looked into this room, she was transported to a time before she knew what death was. She saw herself as a young girl laying on a hay bale and reading on a lazy summer day. She heard her cousins and brother laughing while they played a game of hide-and-seek. She felt Brian's strong embrace while they danced on their wedding night. The space was beautiful that night, all cleaned up and twinkling with fairy lights, full of their friends and family.

"Cora, is that you, dear?" a familiar voice asked from behind her.

Cora stilled-- afraid she imagined it. Caught up in her reverie, it could be a hallucination. A warm hand grasped her shoulder, and Cora found herself being turned and enveloped into Nana's soft embrace-- wrapped in the familiar scents of cold cream and soil.

Max began to bark excitedly at the newcomer, and the two women pulled apart laughing and crying.

"Max, this is Nana." Cora gave him a reassuring pat.

Nana crouched down to Max, and he licked her face. She laughed and looked up at her granddaughter with joy.

Every step was worth it. Cora's heart felt lighter than it had in years. She found her home, her family, at the barn at the end of the world.