Page 71 of The End of the World As We Know It: New Tales of Stephen King’s The Stand

She started toward the mare. But as she brushed past Wayne, she grabbed the shotgun with both hands.

She’d caught him by surprise, but he managed to hold on as they struggled.

He had the height and weight advantage. If he’d been a little bit heavier or had just a smidge more experience fighting, he would’ve been able to overpower her.

But he did not, while she had roughhoused with her brothers every day for twelve years.

He thought she would give in easily, like most girls he had known.

He thought he’d gentled her, broken her like a green horse.

She saw an opportunity. If she got him off-balance, she could push him to the ground.

It was risky: the gun could go off. But it was all she could think to do in the heat of the moment.

She planted her feet and wrenched the weapon, twisting his arms in their sockets as he refused to let go.

When she felt him wobble, unsure on his feet, she pushed.

He fell on his back, bringing her down on top of him.

Her advantage was that she knew it was coming, while he didn’t.

In that moment of surprise, she yanked the firearm out of his hands and scrambled to her feet.

Standing ten feet away from him, Maryellen aimed the gun at his chest. Her arms did not shake.

He got to his feet slowly, hands raised half-heartedly. “You going to shoot me, Maryellen?”

“If I have to.” She reckoned he knew her well enough to know it was true. “Now you’re going to go in the house and pack your things and be on your way. And you’re not going to come back.”

She then followed him inside, the weapon leveled at him the entire time.

Her arms did not tire. Her heart raced, though, to think how they had talked about leaving together.

She had almost headed into the great unknown with this man.

It seemed now like they had been playacting, but she also knew a part of her had been drawn to the idea.

She had come close to making a bad mistake.

He stuffed his things in his backpack, keeping up a running conversation the whole time.

“I’m sorry, Maryellen. I don’t know what came over me…

I’d never shoot a living creature, you know that.

” But when she didn’t budge, he got mad, saying she was making a huge error.

“You need a man out here. It’s dangerous being out here by yourself.

The next man might not be as nice as I am.

” Finally, he said he wouldn’t stay with her now, even if she begged him.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and the way he looked at her sent a chill down her spine. She jerked her head and followed behind him as he walked through the front door.

The sun was starting to go down. Not a good time to be heading into the forest, but he had brought it on himself.

There was something about the look in his eyes, though, that made her decide to ask.

“You said you didn’t have any of those dreams, Wayne…

but you did, didn’t you? That’s why you want to leave now. ”

She didn’t think at first that he’d answer. But then, he nodded. “Yup. I didn’t want to tell you. But I did. Lots of ’em.”

“And it wasn’t about the old woman, was it?”

It meant he had been dreaming of the Walkin Dude. Dreaming of violence and chaos. She pointed with the gun. “Get going, and don’t come back or I’ll put a slug in you. Don’t doubt it.”

That night, she locked up the farmhouse and spent the night in the barn with Ruby.

She kept the lantern burning and the shotgun close at hand.

In all the excitement, Maryellen realized that she’d forgotten to make her tea.

After a minute’s thought, she decided not to bother with it.

She was almost out of the ingredients and soon would have to get used to not having it anyway.

Plus, she didn’t want to be knocked out in case Wayne tried to return.

For the first night in a very long time, Maryellen would try to fall asleep on her own.

Once she managed to slip into a fitful sleep, Maryellen had her first dream of the old woman called Mother Abagail.

She dreamt she was riding Ruby up to the cabin where the old woman lived.

Mother Abagail came down from her front porch and right up to Maryellen.

She reached up to stroke Ruby’s broad cheek and pat her velvet nose.

“You done the right thing getting rid of that man. You weren’t saved from this disease only to lose yourself to him ,” the old woman told her in the dream.

“And now I want you to come west to see me. I’m calling all the people like you.

We need to band together because we got a mission in front of us.

You need to be part of that, Maryellen. Now, I’m not going to tell you that it’s going to be easy, you by yourself, on this horse of yours, riding clean across the country.

But I know you can do it. You’ll meet some people along the way who are like that man you just run off.

But you’ll also meet people like yourself.

Good people, people you can trust. But first you got to leave your family’s house.

You got to start this journey. I know you’re worried about this old girl here”—she patted the mare’s nose again—“but you don’t need to.

She may be old, like me, but we’re both tougher than you know.

She’ll get you to where you need to be.”

When Maryellen awoke, it felt like she’d had the conversation in real life, face-to-face. The truth of it warmed her chest. She went over to Ruby and rubbed between her eyes. The mare nosed her curiously. Even Ruby could tell something was different.

Maryellen spent the day packing, albeit with the shotgun at her side, taking a break to peer out the window whenever she heard a noise.

She knew Ruby wouldn’t be able to carry much, but she didn’t see an alternative.

She resolved not to worry and trust that the Lord would provide along the way.

She took enough oats to last Ruby three or four days.

A few pieces of clothing. Some food, a plastic jug of water.

An improvised first-aid kit and a few tools.

The shotgun and all the shells, including the box Josiah Phelps had given her.

Then she saddled Ruby and led her to her family’s graves.

An ache lodged in her throat, knowing it was the last time she would ever see them, and it almost caused her to change her mind.

But then she put her foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle.

Immediately, she felt better. The world seemed right when she was riding Ruby.

She pressed her heels lightly to the mare’s side to urge the horse on, the old woman’s words singing in her ears.