The Copious Few (First 5 chapters)

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Margarett Saenz

Margarett Saenz was in her room when the world ended.

The day had been an exceptionally good one one up until that point. All of her school work was complete. She had her halloween outfit of “not-giving-a-shit-about-government-sponsored-holidays-only- meant-to-have-you-eat-candy-and-dress-like-a-slut” on lock. And she had spent half an hour vigorously informing the class populaire, Sonia Sutton, exactly what she thought of her pretentious, pink, Starbucks loving existence. Needless to say she went to bed feeling fully satisfied with the days work. But on October the 9th, 2010, as she was just settling down for sleep, she checked her Tumblr only to discover that her Spent Vengeance blog had posted the worst news of her life. They were breaking up.

Her life was over. The best band in the whole world, her liking of which being the prominent means she had to show her disgust of mainstream society, was going to dissipate as though it had never been. Infuriated by Spent Vengeance’s submission to what must have been presidential pressure (they had been slipping in hints about all the sick things the government was doing into their lyrics for years), Margarett stood up and walked slowly into the bathroom to get ready for bed. To add insult to injury, or what would end up being injury to insult, she discovered upon her approach of the sink that her mother had completely plugged up the drain with her hair. There was a small puddle of sink water combined with spat toothpaste in the basin. Ugh. She couldn’t even bring it up with her because they had almost the exact same hair, long, curly, and red. Her mother would just claim it was Margarett’s hair and that she was trying to shift the blame. The standard family system was sick. She had no power over anything in her life. It was awful.

They took everything from her. It started with her dad, when she was just 9 years old. He had joined the army after being fired from his last job. He was killed in Iraq, in an unnecessary war. But they didn’t stop there. They’d lost the house they’d been living in just months after her father had died for the ‘cause’. Then her mother had lost her job. They wouldn’t stop either. Not until they’d destroyed her completely. Unless she stopped them first.

Margarett sighed and pulled over the magazine rack next to the

toilet and climbed up. She was only 5,0” at the age of 16, another injustice of the universe, and so couldn’t easily reach the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet, where her parents sadistically insisted on placing the tweezers. Resigned to her fate of cleaning out the sink, she went on her tiptoes and reached for the tweezers. Unfortunately, some inconsiderate fuck had splashed what could only be piss, toilet water, or some of that delicious toothpaste soup onto the rack, making it slippery enough that, combined with her natural imbalance, it was enough to send her sprawling onto the bathroom floor. Her head connected with the side of the tub and she lay there, clutching her skull and screwing up her face in pain. Her brain was throbbing in pain. Great, she thought grimly. Now I might have brain damage. If my family weren’t such a bunch of dumbasses, I would think they had taken a contract to fuck me up for the government to put me out of action.

Spurred by this thought, Margarett staggered to her feet and managed to stumble to her room, still holding her head with one hand. The lead singer of Spent Vengeance, Sid Rawls, was glaring at her judgmentally from the poster above her bed. Completely enraged by the days abuses, she launched herself onto the sheets and started tearing at the poster, screaming loud enough to make her already inflamed brain pulsate a little more in agony. She tore at the moody face furiously, hurling strips of poster paper all across her bed and on the floor. “Margarett?” Her mother’s voice sounded from outside the door. “What’s wrong, why did you scream? I’m coming in!”

Regrettably, Margarett never got the chance to express her distaste for the state of her life because before her mother

had the chance to enter the room, the clock struck midnight on October 10th, 2010. And the end of the world began.

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Clark Zegher

Clark Zegher was in his car when the world ended.

It was rather a shame it ended when it did. For also inhabiting the car of Clark Zegher was Sonia Sutton, the hottest girl in the senior class. Clark had been trying to hook up with her for months. Well, years technically. It had just become his mission in the past few months. Every boy who knew Sonia had been trying to get with her since they met her, whether consciously or not. But Clark happened to be one of the lucky winners.

It was rather ironic that the person who caused his good fortune hated Clark with a passion. Margarett Saenz, the school nut job. He had nothing against Margarett on a personal level. He tried to be nice to her, and treat her the same as anyone else. Well. Maybe not ANYONE else. But he treated her as fairly as he could. He was well liked, and it was kind of expected of him to ignore, or even bully people like her. But he did his best to treat her with respect. Even if she was a little bit crazy. He honestly just wished she’d go off with her personal shit and conspiracy theories and leave him well enough alone. But no, she just had to stick her nose in all of his business. She was in the grade below him, a junior, but always somehow managed to find out what he was up to, then proceed to corner him and tell him all the ways what he was doing was conforming to a near Nazi society, and how he was so stupid for not seeing the truth, ect, ect. She was worse than a Jehovah’s Witness. Thank god she wasn’t religious as well.

Knowing the kind of person she was, and knowing the kind of person Sonia was, Clark wasn’t at all surprised that Margarett would target Sonia for her abuse. Sonia represented everything Margarett was not, and hated. Popular, beautiful, non argumentative, accepting. Well, that wasn’t completely fair. Margarett was attractive in her own way, until she opened her mouth. But Sonia was what somebody like Margarett would call a sheep. She never questioned authority, did what she was told, and fit right in everywhere she went. But Clark wasn’t thinking about Sonia’s system conformity when she called him at 11:40 pm on October 9th, 2010 with a tremor in her voice. She sounded like she’d been crying. She told him that she was in a lot of pain, that Margarett had trash talked her, that she didn’t know what she did wrong. She asked if Clark could come over. He did.

Clark had expected the night to consist of tears, comfort, maybe some mutual complaining about that crazy bitch who’d hurt her. What he hadn’t expected was for them to end up in the back seat of his car in front of her house, naked, and hot as hell. She had been waiting outside for him, and had jumped in the car as soon as he pulled up. “I thought you might not come.” She murmured, glancing at him then down at her hands. “I felt pretty pathetic calling you. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Not pathetic.” Clark said, looking at her. “You did the right thing.”

“You’re a good friend, Clark.” She glanced up at his face, a small smile playing around her lips. Thank you Maragrett, was the last censored thought he had.

Whether it had been Sonia’s intention all along to hook up in Clark’s car or not, he wasn’t complaining. Maybe he’d send Margarett a thank you letter. That would brighten her day, for sure. Nothing like a little insult and insecurity to get a girl out of her clothes.

Unfortunately for Lil’ Clarky, third base was as far as they got that night. As previously stated, sex was the last thing on Clark’s mind as he drove to Sonia’s house. And thus, he had not come fully prepared. “I’m got some condoms in my room.” she whispered, pulling back from him. She quickly redressed and opened the car door. “You stay comfy. I’ll be back soon.” She gave him a quick kiss, brushing his platinum blonde hair out of his face and smiling at him, before exiting the car and running back to the house.

Clark laid back in the seat with a sigh, gazing out the car window. To make everything just that more perfect, a shooting star shot across the sky as he was watching. Let this night never end, he thought. Let me stay this happy forever.

The night didn’t end. Not for another seven hours in any case. But Sonia Sutton’s life did. And her family’s. And several billion other people’s as the clock struck midnight on October 10th

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Evélyne Merle

Evélyne Merle was in the basement when the world ended.

It didn’t really make much difference to Evélyne, the ending of the world. The world was going to end for her at that time anyway. This just made things . . . different. Worse? No. But not better either . . .

She had realized their life was going to be difficult from the moment she made the decision to move from their comfortable home in Brioude, France, to a small house in the suburbs of Wiondale, Nevada.

No, she realized life was going to be difficult for them the moment she pulled the trigger, sending her husband tumbling down the stairs with a bullet in his chest. Amandine knew nothing of the true cause of her father’s death of course, At least, not yet. Evélyne had kept it from her for six months now. The girl was only nine; she couldn’t be expected to have to deal with this sort of knowledge. Not that the police cared about that. Not that any of that mattered now.

Did I really have a choice? That was what she asked herself about every step in her journey, right up to 11:59 pm on October 9th, 2010, as she lay kneeling on the basement floor, holding a gun up to her head. Would the blood even show on her black hair? Would Ama be able to tell it was there? Would they even let her see the body, when they came for her in the morning and found Evélyne down here? A lot of questions ran through her head as her knees pressed against the cold floor.

Several minutes earlier, she had been washing dishes, completely unaware of the looming situation. She glanced out the window and saw Clark Zegher driving past in a bit of a hurry. He waved as he past and she returned it, smiling. Such a nice boy. He had helped her move in when they had first arrived in the neighborhood. Unusually courteous for a highschooler.

Right as this thought had entered her head, there had been a knock on the door. When Evélyne had opened the door, her eyes fell on the flashing lights on the car before flitting to the uniformed men in front of her. They had found her. How had they found her? Had one of the neighbor’s somehow found out she was a fugitive, and called 911? But how could the news from all the way in the Brioude paper, reach this obscure town in America? The ‘kind’ and ‘understanding officers outside her door didn’t tell her this. What they did tell her was to please come quietly, that somebody would take care of her daughter, and that she had the right to remain silent. She had remained calm, politely requested that she be able to say goodbye to her daughter. They agreed, but one of the officers, understandably, followed her through her house as she made her way to the staircase. Was this really happening to her?

She decided it wasn’t. Two feet away from the bottom step, Evélyne tripped. The officer, being the unfortunately kind man that he was, stepped forward to catch her. She seized her opportunity and pulled his gun from the holster, stumbling back and holding it up to chest level. “Get out of my house.” she said shakily. “Tell him out there whatever you need to, but just leave me and my daughter alone. Please!”

Not the best of plans, that’s for sure. Whether or not it would have worked if everything had gone according to plan, that didn’t matter much because things certainly didn’t go according to plan. The man outside the door had heard the commotion, and probably her voice, and came charging in, gun raised. If Evélyne had any confidence in her shooting capabilities, she might’ve tried to kill them both. But she was a 30 year old woman from rural France whose only other experience with a gun had been when she shot her husband in the chest. And so she ran.

“Ama!” Evélyne shrieked, praying her child had already been awoken. “Cache-toi!” Before she could say anymore, the second policeman appeared. She wrenched open the door to the basement, ran in, and slammed it shut behind her. She locked it quickly, feeling the handle rattle and the door shake as one of the men rammed into it.

Slowly, keeping her eyes on the door, she backed down the stairs, flipping on the light to the basement. What could she do now? There was no way out of the basement except through that door. And what about Ama? One of them was probably fetching her as she stood there, panicking. Desperation washed over her and she dropped to her knees, sobbing. Why . . . why had she done it in the first place? They could have been happy still, surrounded by a beautiful forest, her and Amandine and Basile. Basile Dufort. He had been the love of her life. So he had had a temper. Who didn’t? He might have hurt them a few times, but Evélyne knew they deserved it. Basile had always been right. She never meant to hurt him back . . . It had crushed her to revert to her maiden name, Merle. But it had been necessary, to escape. She had to protect Amandine. But all that seemed to have been for nothing now.

Evélyne looked down at the gun she was still holding. Slowly, every part of her in pain, she raised it to her head. How easy it had been to pull the trigger six months ago. Why was it so difficult now? But she would do it. She must . . .

She didn’t. Would she have? If her world had not come crashing down around her? Perhaps. But she didn’t get the chance. For as the clock upstairs in her little girl’s room struck midnight, signaling the start of October 10th, 2010, Evélyne’s world ended. Everyone’s world ended.

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Amandine Dufort

Amandine Dufort was in the basement when the world ended.

Evélyne didn’t know it. But had the world not ended when it did, it would have been very fortunate that she had remembered all of her mama’s lessons of what to do when the police came. Because they had indeed gone up to her room after Evélyne locked herself in the basement, only to find the bed empty, and Amandine missing.

Ama had been awoken by the lights. She’d always been a light sleeper, and the flashing blue and red police lights shining through her window had sent her bolt upright and out of bed in a moment. She looked out the window and down at the men walking towards the door. They’ve come! she thought with a shiver. They were coming to take her away. She ran to the door, opened it silently, and stepped out onto the landing. She could hear mama speaking as well as two low voices. They were speaking English, which Amandine had not even close to mastered yet. But she could recognize named through the thick accent. Amandine. Brioude. Basile Dufort. She hurried down the steps as silently as she could, ran to the basement door, and slipped inside.

As she reached the bottom of the steps, she heard her mother scream from upstairs. “Ama! Cache-toi!” Thinking the men must be coming after her, she darted beneath the stairs and crouched as low as she could, hugging her knees to her chest.

Why were they here now? Her papa had died months ago. Evélyne had only told her that he had left them, and wouldn’t hurt her anymore, that they were going to live on their own now. But Ama had seen. She knew what had happened. Just as she had snuck down the stairs moments ago, she had crept out of her room the night they had left, hearing her parents arguing. They did this a lot. A selfish part of Ama was glad when they did, because it meant she would normally go unnoticed. Unharmed. But something was different this time. They were down the hall from her room, at the top of the stairs. Her mama was against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks silently as Basile yelled at her. As Ama was watching, Evélyne murmured something under her breath and Basile slapped her across the face. For the first time to Amandine’s knowledge, Evélyne struck back. She drew back from the force of the blow and then swung. Basile had staggered back, then regained his feet and grabbed at her throat. Evélyne gave a strangled scream. Ama fled back into her room, crouched in the corner, and covered her ears.

She could still hear the struggle, the occasional shouts and bangs of bodies hitting the wall. Then there was a loud bang and then silence. Ama knew the sound of a gunshot. She’d seen enough of her papa’s American western’s he had loved so much to recognize it. It took Evélyne 10 minutes to move the body, pack up, then come for Ama. “Come on, chérie. We have to go now.”

“Where are we going? Where is papa?”

Evélyne led her out into the hall then down the stairs. Amandine’s eyes were drawn to the dark red stain on the landing as she passed. “He’s not coming.”

That was the last she’d seen of their cottage in Brioude. She still missed it, but Nevada wasn’t so bad. Her mother had kept her out of school, both for discretion, and because Ama knew almost no English. They had kept their heads down, only interacting with those necessary for the past six months. But apparently all of that had been for nothing.

Her thoughts were disturbed as the door above slammed shut. She shrunk further into the shadows, clutching her knees to her chest and holding her breath. Please don’t find me. Please. Please. Mama, where are you? Help me . . .

Footsteps slowly traveled down the stairs above her head, until the sound changed from creaky wood to sharp cold stone as whoever was down here with her reached the floor. About a minute passed without any more movement. Finally, Amandine couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to know what was happening. Cautiously, she crept around the staircase to identify the presence in the basement with her.

Mama! She had escaped! Evélyne was kneeling on the ground, her back turned to Ama. She was holding a gun in her hand. Had she fought off the men upstairs? Just as she’d fought off papa? Amandine started towards her, smiling widely. Suddenly Evélyne raised the gun and pointed it at the side of her head. Why was she doing that? Ama started to call out for her, but had no time to finish.

The end of the world is a big concept for a nine year old. Had Amandine Merle been told the day before that everything she knew would be destroyed tomorrow, she probably would have laughed, or simply rolled her eyes. But Ama was always going to have to grow up fast. Her parents had decided that for her. And Amandine’s childhood ended at the same time as the rest of the world. At 12:00 on October 10th, 2010.

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Spade and Diamond

Spade was in the kitchen when the world ended.

Diamond was in the living room when the world ended.

It wasn’t their kitchen. It wasn’t their living room either. The $100 in Spade’s pocket wasn’t his. And the blood stained knife in Diamond’s hand wasn’t hers either.

The $100 degree of the situation was part of the original plan. The blood, the knife, and the body lying on the floor were definitely not part of the plan. Of course, neither was the end of the world. Let’s just say that a lot of things didn’t go as the two anticipated

It had started like any other night. At approximately 11:40 pm, October 9th, 2010, Spade had opened the back door of the house as the unsuspecting inhabitants snoozed away upstairs. Diamond had slipped up the steps, checking every room for spare cash. Spade had done the same on the lower floor. When Diamond found a wallet in one of the upper rooms containing $200, she took a 50 and carefully replaced the wallet. Not enough to make them worry, or hopefully to even notice. Just enough to get by and live comfortably in a cheerful alley somewhere.

Diamond was just breaking into what looked like a study when she heard a voice downstairs. Her mind snapped to her brother and she quickly but silently shut the study door and darted to the top of the steps. She moved silently down the steps, her eyes searching for the source of the quiet voice. It was definitely not Spade. So where was he?

She glanced around the corner of the living room and saw to her dismay, Spade, up against the wall, trapped. There was a man facing him holding what looked like a switch blade. He wasn’t talking anymore, but moving slowly toward Spade like a predator. There was no way that twelve year old Spade could fight off this man on his own. And Diamond herself was only fourteen. But she had to try.

She turned away from the man and ran. Not out the door, but into the kitchen. She scanned the room desperately, her eyes finally falling on the kitchen knives in the dish rack. She seized the biggest one right as her brother yelled from the other room. “Diamond!” The pain in his voice hurt her almost to breaking, and she raced back into the room. Their positions had shifted. Spade had obviously tried to run and was now on the ground, blood streaming from a slash in his sleeve. He was pushing himself back into the corner as the man advanced, anger fixed on his face.

Diamond rushed forward and, feeling not the slightest shred of hesitation or doubt, plunged the knife into the back of the man’s neck. He gave a horrible gurgling cry and dropped his own knife, falling to his knees. Spade got to his feet and stepped hastily past him to stand beside Diamond. Looking down at the dying man, he said dryly, “Well. Looks like we’re going to have to find a different town now. Can’t stick around after this.”

Diamond looked at him incredulously. He sounded almost angry with her. “You do realize I probably just saved your life.”

Spade threw his hands in the hair. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Glad to be alive. Might argue with your method, but you never were one for thinking on your feet.”

Diamond rolled her eyes and grabbed the wrist of his wounded arm. He winced. “Oh, suck it up. We have to get out of here before them up there wake up.” She pulled him towards the door. “How much did you get?”

“$100. Hey, do you think we should search him for some?”

“No, Spade.” Diamond said in an exasperated tone. “I got $50. That should last us for a while at least. Wasn’t a complete disaster.”

But we already know that that night was a disaster. A big one. “Don’t you think we should check? Real quick? Maybe he lived alone and we have all the time in the world.”

“Fine! You wait here, and if you hear trouble, don’t come to me, run.” Diamond left Spade in the kitchen and went back to the body. Ignoring the blood still pouring from his neck, she checked his pockets. No money. She did find a nice pocket watch though. That could be worth a pretty penny. And he certainly wouldn’t miss it. She checked the time. 11:59. Diamond paused for a moment to watch the hand tick seconds away slowly around the face. She knew she should leave, grab her brother and get the hell out of there, but she took this moment just to admire the mechanism. 10 seconds till midnight. She stood up and started towards the kitchen still watching the hand tick. 5 seconds. 4. 3. 2. 1.

“Diamond, are you com-”

12:00, October 10th, 2010. That was last moment of Diamond and Spade’s career. They stole again in their lives, but not from homes such as these. 12:00, October 10th 2010 was also the last moment homes like those even existed. The next second, they were all obliterated. But how did Spade and Diamond survive? How did Margarett Saenz, Clark Zegher, Evélyne Merle, and Amandine Dufort survive? Why had any of this happened?

What were they going to do . . .