The End Is Now

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jonathan Maberry is a New York Times bestselling author, multiple Bram Stoker Award winner, and comic book writer. He’s the author of many novels including Code Zero, Fire & Ash, The Nightsiders, Dead of Night, and Rot & Ruin; and the editor of the V-Wars shared-world anthologies. His nonfiction books on topics ranging from martial arts to zombie pop-culture. Jonathan writes V-Wars and Rot & Ruin for IDW Comics, and Bad Blood for Dark Horse, as well as multiple projects for Marvel. Since 1978 he has sold more than 1200 magazine feature articles, 3000 columns, two plays, greeting cards, song lyrics, poetry, and textbooks. Jonathan continues to teach the celebrated Experimental Writing for Teens class, which he created. He founded the Writers Coffeehouse and co-founded The Liars Club; and is a frequent speaker at schools and libraries, as well as a keynote speaker and guest of honor at major writers and genre conferences. He lives in Del Mar, California. Find him online at jonathanmaberry.com.

PENANCE Jake Kerr

Samuel Esposito couldn’t escape the faces that haunted him. The captain established dining hours at set times, and no matter when he went to the galley to eat, someone was always there. He asked the captain if he could be served in his cabin, which got him an angry look and the response of, “We’re not your fucking servants.” He tried going late; he tried going early, but the two-hour windows to eat were set in stone. If he missed it, he didn’t eat. Sam skipped breakfast and did his best to skip one of the other meals.

In the end, however, he couldn’t avoid the faces of his fellow passengers, all of them full of hope as they fled the asteroid on a collision course with North America. Yet that very same hope had lived in the faces of all the people the moment before Sam had sentenced them to death. Sam tried to convince himself that his job before he was evacuated on the ship wasn’t evil. He was simply a messenger. The Expatriation Lottery was fair, and he was simply letting people know the results.

But it was evil. Everyone came in with hope. But then Sam would give them the news, and they would leave with none. Emotionless, hopeless faces. Practically dead already. Their appointment with Sam was an appointment with death, despite the professionalism and sympathy.

The appointments had been every fifteen minutes. His boss had told him to act professional but sympathetic. Stick to the facts. Provide tissues if necessary. Don’t be afraid to hit the panic button if the client becomes violent.

That’s what he had called them: clients—the citizens who had come in, sat down or paced the room as they waited to hear their fate. Sam let them do whatever made them the most comfortable, but in the end there was no real comfort, only the extremes of fear and hope. Sam would then tell them whether they had won the Expatriation Lottery and would be sent to Europe or Africa or somewhere else. Where didn’t quite matter; the winners would be free to live. But the others—the losers—had been told they had to stay in North America and wait for the asteroid to kill them. There just weren’t enough planes or ships to take everyone.

The ones who lost: He had pulled up their results on his computer before they entered and knew that he was about to deliver the most horrific news possible. Sam had done his best, but that moment when the face went from tightly wound hope to total desperation tore a bit of his soul away each time. He would want to look away, but he couldn’t; he had to be there for them, a warm and friendly face—even though he wasn’t a friend; how could he ever be a friend?—in their darkest moment. It was his duty.