The End

It's a tapestry of carnage as far as I can see. The rampant vegetation is spreading through the town like cancer. It is an experiment that has gone awry; the debacle of science. Now the mangled mass rolling over houses and buildings is headed toward me. I can hear it grow. I can hear the yawning and groaning of its elongating branches as it reaches out for me. Snarled up in its thicket are the bloody bodies of townsfolk that have been crushed or speared by it. I can hear their bleating cries as they flail in their feeble attempts to escape. The verdurous tangle surrounds the building and pins me and a girl against the large, heavy doors of the bank. The burgeoning growth sprouts pointed sprigs that jab and poke at us, trying to snare us in the brambly mesh. In a flash of boldness, I grab the girl and fling us both inside the bank, slamming the wooden doors shut on the deafening wail of the slaughter outside.

"We'll be safe here," I tell her in the eerie silence of the lobby.

"We will?" she scoffs incredulously.

The bank lobby is a huge, hollow room, sparsely furnished, with a high ceiling crowned by a prism-shaped skylight with translucent rose-colored glass. The row of teller cages is left abandoned now from the evacuation. In the center of the lobby are two bulky pedestal tables. A mural in faded prime colors depicting pioneers conducting their daily affairs runs along the top half of a wainscot wall. I pound my palms against the wall to test its sturdiness. The bank is an old building made of stone blocks. "They don't make them like this anymore," I assure the girl and I continue surveying our temporary refuge.

"This is the craziest thing I've ever seen!" I tell myself in disbelief as I stare at the wall. "I remember my uncle brought home a large, sharp machete from his travels in Brazil," I say aloud without addressing the girl directly. "He told me he used it to hack out swaths in the jungle and for gathering food. He even killed a snake or too with it. Funny, the jungle didn't seem that formidable back then. Maybe I just wasn't old enough to appreciate his stories. Or maybe I just thought that the jungle wasn't really real. Sure could use that machete now," I add as I continue my reconnaissance of the lobby. I stop in front of a locked fire cabinet, shatter its glass cover with my elbow and take out the big heavy axe that is stored there. I go to the front doors of the bank and kneel down and chop off the tiny pea-yellow sprouts that are protruding in through the threshold. I stand and look at the doors. "You know," I say as I turn and face the girl, "we'll make it out of here okay. Help should be here soon, and this building is solid as a rock." The glass transom above the doors darkens with creepy shadows of leafy vines that crawl out over it.

The girl slides herself down along a wall and squats with her forearms on her knees and her head resting on her forearms as though taking a siesta. She has long thick auburn hair that is parted in the middle. She is quiet and still. There is a substance and fullness to her that makes the rest of the chaotic world seem so dull and flat. Her presence captivates me and she must have sensed me staring at her because she looks up.

"What are you looking at?" she asks.

She has a narrow head with closely set blue eyes and a long straight nose. There are tiny creases under her eyes and at the corners of her mouth giving her face a pungent look. Her skin is pale and smooth and accented only by the earthy tone of her lips. I go over and slide down next to her. I rest my axe off to the side. "We're bound to be rescued," I reassure her to bolster her spirits, "I'm certain the lab has emergency plans for something like this. There should be helicopters overhead anytime now." The girl quietly stares out at the lobby. She has a clean, fresh scent about her. She wears a white smock and beige corduroys that have been worn down in parts to a soft sheen. The cords fit snugly about her thighs and crotch. She is lovely and her scent stirs a desire in me far greater than all the swirling urgencies that surrounds us. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," I promise her. She turns her head and gazes at me with her scintillating blues eyes. "Gosh you're pretty!" I utter involuntarily.

"Am I pretty?" she asks with a smug and coquettish smile, as she combs her hair back with her fingers and then stares right at me with a confident and daring look.

"Yes, you're a beautiful girl. I'm surprised I've never seen you before," I reply self-consciously as though she could read my mind and I turn my eyes away and look out at the lobby. "I'm not sure why I never noticed you before. Are you new in town? Have we met before? You look familiar."

The glass in the transom over the doors explodes and shatters and a huge leafy stalk plummets down from the breach to the lobby floor. The loud and sudden thud startles her and she shrinks into my arms. We sit there clinging to each other, transfixed by the pullulating greenery that is reaching out in front of us and the pounding din of its thrusts. I find myself kissing the warmth of her temple and her cheek to soothe her. My fingers find the flesh of her waist and I pull her tighter to me. I kiss the corner of her lips that twitch with each touch until she turns her head and our mouths fuse together into an explosion of passion that overwhelms all the dreadfulness of the world.

The two front doors creak and bulge, then blow off their hinges by a thick vine that rapidly unwinds into the center of the room. Splintered pieces of the doors are embedded and dangling in its foliage. The girl pulls away and gives me a pixie smile, stands and quickly pulls her smock off over her head, baring her firm breasts. She hastily unbuttons her corduroys, slides them and her panties off her legs and tosses them aside. The lustrous shapes and tones of her flesh shine and captivate me and the whole damnation of the world is, itself, damned by her mere image. She stands over me like a colossus with all the sensuality of the world embodied in her shape and form. I quickly disrobe then settle out on my back. I rub my hands along her smooth calves, prodding her to proceed.

"We must hurry," she brashly states, as she kneels down atop me and begins kissing and fondling my face. She sits straight up and takes me in her hand, then, as though in a mystical trance and bobbing her head of hair about, glides me around her and tucks me in, sliding herself down all the way. She pauses and coos playfully as though pleased at seeing me pinned beneath her, as though pleasantly aware of some eternal hold she has on me. She rubs her hands out over the firm and toned muscles of my chest then braces them on my shoulders as she begins to sway in slow pelvic undulations. She grows more and more excitable as she draws me ever deeper into her.

The burgeoning vegetation surges across the lobby floor, smashing the two writing tables like flimsy wood crates and rolls them both up into its massive snarl. The reverberating ruckus of the destruction is deafening and its voracious growth is sucking all the air from the room. The skylight dislodges and falls down past the mural and shatters out on the floor. The vegetation creeps and crawls in through every nook and cranny of the lobby, entangling everything in its path as it approaches us. The painted pioneers are covered by the tentacles of the snarling growth that weaves its way about their gawking faces. The ceiling crumbles overhead by the weight of the mounting growth and the light in the room is being choked out and fading fast.

"So, you're my hero!" she claims then dismounts and sprawls herself out on her back, her body lithe and supple. I mount her and we begin again in a delirious pitch of urgency. It is as though all the time in the world has come down to these few rapturous moments that we are stealing from the inexorable doom. She wraps her arms around my neck and locks her legs around my waist, binding us together. "Hurry!" she urges. Her eyes are closed and her face is serene as her body jerks with each jolt. I feel the tender leafage creeping up around my ankles and its sprays forming up along my legs. I feel as though I'm a vine growing deep inside her, sprouting a bud that quickly swells up and bursts into an unraveling blossom of silky petals. She moans and turns her head off to the side as another flower bursts forth and fades away. Our bodies wallow in our ecstasy as our flesh melts into a furnace of exhilaration. The prickly branches whip against our skin and twine about our torsos. "Let the world know our act," I whisper breathlessly in her ear. "Let it know we lived among its horrid flagellations." But our passion deflates quickly as we find ourselves being engulfed by the spiny brier. We rail and struggle against being swallowed up by it. I grab the axe and flail it about the bramble, trying to free us. Then, the harried creature suddenly lifts us up in its gullet-like hollow and spews us out onto the floor. We scramble into the vault room. I swing the iron-bar gate shut and close the wooden door behind it.

We break out into a joyous celebration that echoes and fills the hollow vestibule that leads to the vault. We revel in our rapturous escapade and the relief of our escape. It is like a glorious dream-like experience and our jubilation turns giddy as we realize that we had survived, but had forsaken our clothes and are left naked. "I can see the headlines now," I laugh, "Survivors Uncovered."

"My gosh!" she says with playful airs, "I have absolutely nothing to wear for my coming out." She flicks her limp wrist and giggles at her own joke.

"Survivors Bear All," I add.

We become quiet and look at each other with growing apprehension until I broke the spell and wrap my arms reassuringly around her. We hold each other tight in a lover's embrace. "We did it!" she exclaims in a whisper. "We escaped!".

"Maybe we were kicked out?" I joke half-heartedly.

"I hope they have blankets when they come," she says in a more sober tone as she pulls away from me.

"They always have blankets in the choppers," I reassure her as I sit majestically in a large wooden chair at a desk and beckon her to join me. The chamber is set up as a security station and on the large table is a clipboard with a sign-in sheet nearly full with signatures, and next to it a key ring full of keys. The emergency lamps mounted at the corners of the ceiling beam down on us like spotlights on a theatrical stage. She settles on my lap and cuddles up close. She has splendorous skin that is soft as satin, with a spicy scent.

"I used to sit on my father's lap like this," she whispers in a low, sultry voice, then lets loose with a chuckle as she flings her head back and adds, "of course, with clothes on." She rests her head on my shoulder as she speaks. The long reach of her neck vibrates from her voice. "I remember when I was fourteen; my parents left me at a girl's camp for the summer. It was the most horrible time imaginable. There was nothing to do and I felt like a prisoner. The other girls were all geeks, and the counselor was hitting on me. He was such a leech, with his lewd conversations and obscene touches that made my skin crawl. I just wanted out. Just when I thought I couldn't bear it anymore, just when I was feeling the pits, abandoned, desperate, ready to do anything that was wild and crazy, my father drives up to bring me home. He came to fetch me because he thought I wasn't having a good enough time there. I had never felt more relieved in my life. Dad was wonderful that way. He always seemed to know what I wanted, and sometimes I just wanted out of things. That was such a marvelous feeling, being rescued that is. It's a wonderful feeling."

A loud wrenching sound bolts through the vestibule as the iron-grille gate is wrested from its anchors, followed by the thumping of uncoiling branches striking the wooden door.

"I remember a camping trip with my mother," I tell her, wanting to share my secrets with her. "Mom had lost her gold charm bracelet while swimming in the river and I spent the whole afternoon diving for it as she watched from the shore. The charm bracelet was irreplaceable with little trinkets and tokens she had collected throughout her life. I could see her get more and more discouraged as the time passed. But I was persistent and wouldn't stop until I found it for her. I still remember that final plunge into the cold murky water when, with my lungs aching and ready to burst, I saw the glittering bracelet between some rocks. I snatched the bracelet and shoved off from the bottom with my feet and I shot up out of the water, waving the bracelet high in the air. My mother was so happy and jumped for joy. I can still see that admiration and love in her eyes when I brought that prized bracelet to her. I was so proud at that moment, proud to do such a wonderful thing. It made her so happy."

"Shhh!" she abruptly cuts me off. "Listen! I think I hear a helicopter."

We both listen. A whirling drone comes through the vent in the wall. We stand and go over to the vent. "You need to crawl through there and get out and let them know we're here," she tells me.

I go back and retrieve the axe and slide the chair over to the wall. I stand on the chair and whack the axe into the screen and rip the metal grate from the tunnel. I measure the opening by running my hands along the edges and then, shimmying gingerly up, I enter the cold tubing and wriggle myself completely in.

My flesh squeaks against the dry metal sheets as I crawl forward toward a faint light glimmering in the distance. I reach a section covered with smooth, tender leaves that brush and titillate my skin as I pass through. I grab hold of a vine that runs underneath me and I pull my sweat-drenched body along the foliage until I ram head-on to the matted mass of roots and branches that meets me deep in the passageway. I stop and rest and study the menacing and brooding imbroglio in front of me. For a moment, I feel as though I am intruding, an uninvited guest, disturbing a sacred nesting place or secret lair where I don't belong. Then it gives off a dismissing imperious rumble that angers me and I yell and thrust myself repeatedly into its gnarling heap, smashing it with my head and shoulders, butting it again and again, straining to shove the gigantic clump out of my way. I pull back to rest and catch my breath. I find myself awash in a pulpy mash, my hands slick and rendered useless. "Are you there yet?" I hear the girl's shallow voice echo amid my exhausted pants and the stirring ring of the darkness. I feel the sprouting thorns of the foliage pricking my skin and I heave forward again, entangling myself deeper in the fibrous roots of the morass. I withdraw and then lunge back in, ramming my head up into the thicket that rakes and scratches my face and shoulders. I pull back and then thrust forward again, straining to break through to the gold flittering daylight just beyond. How glorious it would be to reach the outside, to escape, to be saved. How glorious it would be to rescue her and win her love. With one last desperate effort, I assault the tangled network with all my might until I realized it would not budge and there is no energy left in me. I lie there quietly and stare at the coarse mesh of gleaming intricacies thickly layered to block my way. It is a tangled, irrational juggernaut, impregnable in its magnitude and incomprehensible in its purpose so that even Hercules could not unravel or vanquish it. "God damn son of a bitch!" I holler and spit at that ungodly mass. And then, with all my weight and strength, I immerse myself deep into it. "Fuck you!" I shout and yank myself back from its clutches and slither down the hollow passage to the room, where I plop out of the hole and drop to the floor.

I stand there, stunned by it all. My body is veined like a leaf with scratches and lacerations and smirched by a film of drying perspiration and pulp. I look over at the girl. She is covered in green as though she has sprouted her own foliage. "Do you like it?" she asks, as she spins around like a fashion model. "I made a dress out of money from the vault and some adhesive tape I found." I go to her and put my hands around her waist and tell her how wonderful she looks.

"Well, are they out there? Are they coming to rescue us?" she asks as she anxiously searches my eyes for the answer.

"There's nothing out there", I report matter-of-factly. "No helicopters. No rescue teams. Nothing. We can weather it out in the vault," I throw out as our next move. "That should get us through until someone comes to save us." I watch as her seeking stare turns to alarm, then anger.

"You promised me!" she scolds, pulling away, wrapping her arms about her waist as though overcome by a chill. "You told me that a helicopter would be coming and that there would be a rescue team. That we'd be saved," she accuses, suddenly aloof, sullen, and unapproachable.

The door to the vestibule blows open and flies off its hinges. The huge, horrifying mass of life that has gone irretrievably beyond its bounds now lies ominously in front of us. Slivers of the door still hang on its tendrils. Little red blossoms shaped like grapnel are splattered through it. Earthly debris and entrails are tangled up in it and dangle like ornaments. It almost resembles a ferocious face, but without the eyes. We quickly gather what we can and go into the vault. I swing the thick metal door shut and lock it. The clank of its lock unnervingly resounds deep in my heart.

She moves off to the far end of the vault as I settle down on the floor. I'm limp and exhausted and stare at the levers and wheels of the door. I know quite well it was the only way in with no way out. I feel disgust and resentment. But I am also beginning to concede the inevitable. Had I been stronger, maybe I could have saved her.

"Wasn't there anything out there?" she asks and mopes.

"Nothing, just the will o' the wisp," I whisper in my weariness.

"Why did you drag me in here?" she asks.

"I don't know. I just thought you needed saving."

She leans against the wall and morosely stares at her somber reflection in the golden sheen. I can feel her silence scolding me. "At least we'll die with lots of money," she tosses out facetiously.

"We may as well make the most of it. We'll probably be here awhile," I tell her as I stand.

She unthreads some pull strings from empty money bags that are stacked on a shelf. She knots them together and ties them around her waist, her crepe-like dress gathering beneath the cinch. She has shapely legs and pedicured toes and is a lovely creature. "Maybe I can make something out of these money bags that will cover me up better," she taunts, "maybe a robe?"

"What about a frock?" I peevishly retort.

Her look is detached and forbidding. Her flat forehead is draped by tangled tufts of hair and her long slender lips seem even more provoking. "You know," I offer in an effort to take the edge off, "all this sort of makes me that proverbial last man on earth we've heard so much about. And you," I grin congenially, "that proverbial last woman."

"You're reprehensible, that's what you are," she snaps. "There's nothing more to talk about. You're not that wonderful macho man you made yourself out to be, are you? My hero, ha! You are despicable and to blame for all this."

"What about the lobby? What was that?"

"What about it?" she snaps back as her inquisitive look quickly turns to disgust. "You're just like all the others with your macho airs and useless self-worth. Shit! I'm tired of all that mumbo-jumbo bullshit. Ah, but you're different," she derides as she teasingly sashays up towards me and stops. "You're the last man on earth," she says to my face with a snicker. "Well, they were all the last man on earth in their own puny pathetic groveling way. You're nothing special."

Her eyes are glowering at me, and her cutting words fill me with rage. I want to take her right now. Show her what kind of man she is dealing with. Show her the full brunt of my force. I want to pin her frail shoulders to the wall and rip that phony garment off of her and have her flesh. I want to pop her breast open with my hands and ravage her jeering femininity into submission. After all, I had saved her! And she should be grateful. Let her last vision of me be that of the beast. Let her last gasp of air be a whimper. But I suddenly stop in my tracks when I catch sight of my crazed reflection in the shiny metal wall of the vault. I'm not that lecherous boob she makes me out to be. I'm not like that at all. I'm simply a man searching for that glittering bracelet in a shimmering stream. Can't she see that? How can she trivialize me so? How can I be so misjudged? I'm as much a prisoner to my lust as she is to her charms. We're trapped and there is no way around it.

"I understand," I tell her consolingly. "We're both stuck here and should try to make the best of it," I add as I approach her.

"You understand," she rebukes with an angry glance and coldly withdraws. "You'll understanding anything if it gets you what you want. Do you understand I want to be left alone? Stop looking at me! I'm tired of always being on display. My life has been nothing more than a parade of gawking men. You're just like them. You're sickening! I wanted to be a photographer and do my work and be a professional, and have a life. I wanted to be something other than a prize, an object. Do you know where I was headed," she emphatically says to me, "when you dragged me in here? I was going to a job interview for a travel magazine. I was going to see the world and photograph interesting people and places. You'll never understand!" she wails. "I thought you had a plan? Ha! Some plan! I thought you were going to save me," she adds as she stops and stares intently at me with her weary eyes. I'm trapped here" she pleas in despair and looks away. Her lips seem to silently ruminate on those words as she becomes more and more agitated by the consternation swelling up inside her. "I need to get out of here. I need to escape from this nightmare. I need to feel good again, free. There's got to be a way out. I'm suffocating. We need to get out of here," she anxiously exhorts and begins trembling and gasping.

"There's nothing we can do and nowhere to go," I tell her. I wish I had been stronger. Maybe I could have changed things."

"You're despicable," she spits at me with a spurned look. "Despicable! Why didn't you save me?" she scolds as she struggles to free herself from my hold. "You fucking bastard!" she yells. "You're just like all the fucking rest of them. Let go of me! Just go and leave me here alone!" she hollers, flailing her arms against my chest and kicking my legs. "You're not my father! Her body stiffens and arches back. She turns her face upward, her eyes closed and her face is serene, almost angelic. She moans as though praying in a slow, shallow suffocating breath then she slings herself upright and spits at me again in a despiteful and defiant way before she collapses in my arms and sobs.

A baleful tapping resonates through the metal door, and beyond it, the loud clamor like lowing cows. We can hear the clatter of the building blocks being dismantled one by one. Slivers of vegetation have worked their way through the jamb of the door and the battery pack lights on the wall begin to flicker.

I hold her close and comfort her. "So here we are," I whisper as she wraps her arms around my neck, "immured in our vault, waiting for the end."