AFTER | Book 4 - After The End

"I loved this novel. I found the situation and the characters to be very realistic, so it was immersive to read; I didn’t have to suspend disbelief – I believed! It was a very fast read with excellent pacing." - Amazon review

BOOK 4

The future was not promised to them, not unless they fought for it..

Chloe Maxwell-Brent has spent the last three months surviving the end of civilization, thanks to the Syrian Virus that wiped out most of the world's population—and while she despairs at the thought, she’s come to realize that includes her husband, Ash, who was away on a business trip when the world fell. But midst terror and grief, her friendship with Jesse, and the strength of her found-family of survivors have helped her survive the pain.

Just as Chloe is ready to say goodbye to her past and find hope beyond her heartbreak, Ash returns. Only, Ash Maxwell isn’t the same man who left Sanford all those months ago. Honed by his experiences, Ash has journeyed hundreds of miles to get back to Chloe. Except, will she accept the cold and brittle man he's turned into?

With the military chasing him, and secrets he can't reveal, Ash must convince Chloe to trust him again.

With enemies closing in from all sides, every hope seems lost... can love survive the end of the world?

 

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MAIN TROPES
➡️ Virus apocalypse
➡️ Found family
➡️ Love triangle

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After The End is the fourth book in The After series of interconnected standalone post-apocalyptic romance novels. If you love reading stories by Kate L. Mary, Kate Morris, T.L. Payne and Kyla Stone, then you will love this series.

This is a standalone story with no cliffhangers and a HEA, however will be enjoyed further by reading the other books in the series. This is mature content written for 18+ readers ♡

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WHAT READERS ARE SAYING...

"This has been one of my all time favourite series, and Book 4 did not disappoint. Can I give it 10 stars?? There were tears, high anxiety and times where I needed a moment by myself.... Chloe and Ash's love story is the stuff of legend. And as for gorgeous Jesse... My only gripe is that the series has ended."

"I could read about these characters forever. Thank goodness for the bonus chapter when you sign up for Hayley's newsletter!"

"An epic series that tests the loyalty and mettle of every character."

Enjoy this sample of After The End

Ash Maxwell sighed heavily, putting his cell phone back in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“The wife again?” Hilary’s question wasn’t innocent, and Ash regretted ever confiding in her about his marital… issues.

“Not now, Hil. What the hell is going on in here?”

The foyer of the JW Marriott Hotel was chaotic; there was a frantic edge to people’s movements and open desperation on their faces.

Ash’s concern turned to alarm when a bellhop shoved a luggage trolley at a red-faced woman and walked out the front doors into the teaming foot traffic of a New York City morning.

The pounding in his head intensified, and a coughing fit took him.

“Here.” Hilary passed him a bottle of water. “Looks like you’ve got whatever’s going around.”

Ash wiped his watering eyes.

“I’m fine. Where’s Brian? Did you get the concierge to book a cab?”

“I don’t know where he is, but while you were… placating your wife, the client called. The meeting has been canceled. Everyone is sick or getting sick.” Hilary opened her purse and passed him a blister pack of Tylenol.

“Seriously?” That meant extra days in New York and an extra pissed off wife.

Chloe was already suggesting he look for a career without the extensive travel associated with being a management consultant. Problem was, Ash loved his job. He was good at providing strategic advice on improving operational efficiency. Really good. And the pay was exceptional. Chloe wasn’t complaining about that part of his job.

“So Brian’s sick?” Ash checked his watch. If their meeting was canceled, maybe he could move up his meeting with HR. Head office was in New York, and they’d been courting him to move here. He knew Chloe would flip her lid at the suggestion of leaving their hometown of Sanford, but he wanted to at least see what kind of offer they had on the table.

“That’s him now.” Hilary turned to watch Brian puff his way over to them, his paunch belly emphasized by an ill-positioned belt. “He really should hit the gym with us more,” she muttered under her breath.

“Have you seen the news?” Brian gasped, taking the water bottle from Ash’s hands and gulping at it.

“Hey, man. You really shouldn’t have done that. I’m not feeling so great.” Ash grimaced as Brian dropped the bottle, and water spilled over the marble floor.

“You’re sick?” Brian’s face blanched white.

“It’s just that flu everyone’s getting.” Ash bit back a cough.

“It’s not a flu! They’re calling it Sy-V, and it’s killing people.” Brian took a giant step away from Ash. “We should all go back to our rooms. The less contact we have with other people, the better.”

“You can, but if the meeting is canceled, then I’m rescheduling my flight,” Hilary said. “No point in hanging around here.”

Ash didn’t like the way she looked at him when she said that. As though she were silently asking if there was a reason she should hang around.

Hilary had always been a friendly colleague, but ever since her divorce last year, there had been an undercurrent of something that made Ash awkward.

“You don’t get it!” Spittle flew from Brian’s fleshy mouth. “All flights are grounded. LaGuardia and JFK have both been quarantined.”

“What? Over the flu?” Ash realized this was what Chloe had been so worked up about. If he hadn’t done that extra set of reps in his workout this morning, he’d have caught the news.

“I told you! It’s not the flu. It’s called the Syrian Virus and people are dying. It’s all over the world.” Brian shook his head. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m heading back to my room to drink the mini-bar dry.”

Ash was already walking to the bank of elevators. He wanted to turn on a television and find out what was really happening.

And he should call Chloe back, too.

“Get your own elevator.” Brian pushed in front of him. “I’m not sharing an enclosed space with you.”

The elevator dinged, and Brian hustled inside, jabbing at the buttons with his elbows.

Ash sighed. Whatever. Brian had always been a jerk.

“We can ride this out together?”

Hilary had come up beside him, a suggestive glint to her eye. Thankfully, a coughing fit had him doubled up over and her expression quickly changed.

“I’m going to grab a coffee and check my emails. If you’re feeling better, I’m in room 807. Call me.” She gave a half wave and strode away in heels he couldn’t imagine were comfortable.

The elevator doors opened again, disgorging at least ten people, all with luggage and all in a hurry. Many were coughing and one had a bleeding nose.

Ash got in, along with a well-dressed couple speaking in Italian. There was a smear of what looked like blood on one of the mirrored walls, and Ash grimaced, standing well clear of it. When he began coughing again, the couple exchanged disgusted glances and tried to stand well clear of him.

A flash of fear lodged in his gut. Did he have this virus? And what did that mean?

The throb of his headache reasserted itself, making it hard to think.

He’d call Chloe, have some more Tylenol, and then lie down.

It took several attempts to use his key card; his hands were shaky, and his vision was getting blurry. When he got into the room, he immediately set the thermostat of the air-con to low–he was burning up.

Ditching his jacket, he loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on his face.

He’d had a cough for a couple of days, but the onset of these symptoms blindsided him with their swiftness. He’d been feeling fine less than twenty minutes ago.

What made him feel even worse was the way he’d fobbed Chloe off. What he wouldn’t give to be on a flight home to her right now.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up his cell to call her, but every time he dialed it came up as a network error. His jaw ticked as he opened the internet browser on his cell and when he saw it was unavailable, he cursed, long and loud.

Picking up the room telephone to dial out, he only got a busy tone. Frustrated, he slammed the handset down, slumping his shoulders as another coughing fit racked his body.

When he could finally draw breath again, he flicked on the television. While many of the channels just showed static, the Chinese news was still operating, as were the movie channels, and a sport channel showing a British football game.

He stopped his channel hopping when a harried-looking female news presenter filled the screen. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was speaking so fast it was hard to understand her.

“… unprecedented mortality rates. We’ve lost contact with Europe, and most countries in the Asia Pacific are under martial law. Until the World Health Organization has information on a vaccine, the President has issued a ruling for a mandatory curfew. No one is to be outside their homes after midday today. I repeat, stay-at-home orders come into effect at midday today, with severe penalties for those breaching the order.”

The remote fell from Ash’s hand as he stared at the screen in shock.

What the hell was going on?

 

DAY 2

Loud shouting from the corridor outside his hotel room woke Ash from a feverish dream, but he didn’t have the energy to lift his head from the pillow. Sweat slicked his skin and his mouth was as dry as cotton wool.

His bones ached and his skin hurt. It was hard to form a coherent thought with the intensity of his headache and he swallowed convulsively around his thick tongue.

Wailing sirens swept past outside, but Ash was already drifting back into unconsciousness.

 

DAY 3

The thirst was incredible. It overrode the trembling of Ash’s fatigued muscles, the scream of pain in his brain. He rolled and fell from the bed, crying as he crawled to the bathroom.

Water. He needed water.

The tiles were cool on his already chilled skin, and he shivered harder. His teeth hurt.

Bracing against the toilet he tried to pull himself to his feet, but he simply didn’t have the strength to achieve it. Sobbing and shaking, he bowed his head against his knees.

Sometime later he woke, his body seized with cold and his need for water all-consuming. He struggled again to stand, knocking his head badly on the toilet when he fell a second time.

The toilet. There was no thought process, only immense need. He shoved up the toilet lid and reached a shaky hand inside, scooping at the cool water within.

He drank.

 

DAY 4

-

 

DAY 5

-

 

DAY 6

When Ash finally came to, he was as weak as a newborn. This was worse than the hangover from his stag weekend, and beyond any sickness he’d ever experienced.

Although alert, he struggled to move his debilitated body. He rolled over on the bed, noticing with disgust that he stank of urine but, thankfully, not shit.

Small mercies.

The hotel room was stuffy, with the air-con no longer running. It was quiet. As soon as he registered the silence, the hairs on his arms rose. New York City was never quiet.

There was an eerie stillness that made Ash feel very alone. He dragged himself from the bed, desperate to leave this room and reassure himself the world was not changed.

He couldn’t explain the dread that settled in his stomach, but he knew something was very, very wrong.

Staggering to the window, he pulled the heavy drapes aside, letting bright sunshine sluice over the room. Blinking against the light, he placed a hand on the cool glass, squinting to make sense of what he was seeing.

Or not seeing.

The street outside was deserted. Empty cabs choked the road, bicycles were strewn on the footpath. The only movement was fall leaves from Central Park spiraling in the wind.

Ash’s hand trembled.

He was still sick and hallucinating. Clearly. Because what he was seeing looked like a movie set. This wasn’t real life.

The upscale JW Marriott may be removed from the grimy hustle of midtown, but this close to Central Park there were always street vendors hawking their wares, vehicles zipping past, tourists clogging the sidewalks.

There were random lumps scattered about on the ground, and Ash startled to realize they looked like bodies. Like people who had… died.

Uncomprehending, he stepped back. He swallowed, thirsty. Maybe it was dehydration playing tricks on his mind?

He grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-bar and sat heavily on the bed, legs splayed and head bent. Nothing made sense.

After gulping the water, he turned to the nightstand for his cell, finally locating it on the floor. Swiping at the screen he cursed when he realized it needed charging. It should have just enough battery to call Chloe. She was going to be out of her mind at how long he’d been out of contact.

Only when he dialed her number, he received the same network error as before.

Was everyone still sick with this virus? It had been, what? Three days? Four? Surely people would be starting to recover.

The image of the bodies in the street outside invaded his head, and the water he’d just consumed threatened to revolt in his stomach. He lurched to the bathroom in time to throw up into the sink. Running a shaky hand over his mouth, he ran water from the faucet to rinse his mouth.

Staring into the mirror, he was shocked to see the gaunt pallor of his face, dark circles beneath his eyes and dried blood crusted beneath his nose and over one cheek. He washed his face and then cupped his hands to gulp mouthfuls of water.

When he straightened he felt steadier. Surer.

He would go down to reception. Find Hilary. What room number had she said she was in? He used all his strength to shower and change from his fetid business clothes into jeans and t-shirt, and then pulled open the heavy hotel door, leaning on it to keep it open as he looked up and down the dim hallway.

Resolved, he stepped out.

He felt less sure several floors later. The elevators weren’t working and it was dark in the stairwell. He had to stop frequently to rest; puffing for breath was foreign for Ash. He’d been committed to CrossFit for years now, and prided himself on his fitness.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the fire door for level eight. Only, when he knocked on room 807, there was no answer from Hilary. His memory was foggy, but he was sure that was the room she’d told him. Taking a chance, he knocked on the doors on either side, too.

No answer.

Frustrated, and with a rising sense of anxiety, he picked up his pace–rapping his knuckles on every door he passed.

Nothing.

By the time he’d made it to the lobby, he was sweating profusely and his legs were shaky. He shoved a hand through his wet hair and pushed at the door, only to find it blocked by something on the other side.

Grunting, he pushed harder, until whatever it was gave way. Stepping through, he stumbled, falling forward and catching himself on… a body. A human body. A dead human body.

“Shit!” he yelled, snatching his arm back and scrambling. He backed away, unable to tear his eyes from the body. It was a female employee of the hotel, impeccably dressed but only wearing one shoe, and with dried blood staining the front of her pressed white shirt. Her dead eyes were open and unseeing, and she looked strangely bloated.

The stink of rotting meat with fruity undertones had bile rising in Ash’s throat. He spun away. If this was a hallucination, it was disturbingly real.

A scream had him whirling towards the hotel bar, where two figures were climbing onto a table.

“It’s a zombie!” one of them cried.

“Brian?” Ash blinked at the sight of his over-weight colleague balancing precariously.

Brian screamed again.

“I told you they were going to come back to life!” Brian turned, and Ash realized the other person on the table was Hilary.

“What is going on?” He jogged over to them, ignoring that they cowered back at his approach. “Seriously, get off the table and explain what the fuck is happening here.”

“You’re alive.” Hilary gaped at him. “Have you been alive this whole time?”

“Ah, as far as I know, I didn’t die,” Ash said. “Although someone over there did. Why hasn’t anyone done something about her body?”

“There’s no one left,” Hilary explained, getting down with a wobble.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and she slurred her words.

“Are you drunk?” Ash looked at the scattered bottles of top-shelf liquor.

“Don’t judge us,” Brian snapped, falling onto a bar stool as he climbed down. “We’ve just watched the world end.” He picked up a bottle of Macallan single malt and took a swig.

“You were sick, right?” Hilary narrowed her eyes at him. “You should be dead. Some of us didn’t get sick, but everyone who did is dead.”

“Not dead.” Ash held up his hands.

“So you’re immune,” Brian accused.

“No. You’re immune, because you didn’t get it.” Ash didn’t know what that made him. He sat down heavily. “Why are you still here, anyway? Why haven’t you left?”

“And go where?” Hilary also sat. “The power is out and telecommunications are down. Flights were grounded as soon as the outbreak hit. We kept waiting for someone to show up, the military or someone from the government. But the only people we’ve seen are others who weren’t affected, and there haven’t been many of them.”

“How many?”

“Like, a handful.” Hilary put her head down on the table.

The realization that from a city of eight million, only a handful remained hit Ash like a punch to the gut. He physically reeled, grabbing onto the table to regain his balance.

“So we get out of the city,” he finally said.

Brian laughed, high and brittle. “It’s not just New York. Sy-V is everywhere. Before we lost the internet, we saw riots in China, hospitals over-run in Australia. Russia was the first to go quiet, but in the end… there was no one there.”

Stunned, Ash opened and then closed his mouth.

He gestured for Brian to pass the scotch whiskey, wincing at the burn as he swallowed. “Everyone can’t be dead.”

“They’re not,” Hilary agreed. “A group of nuns came by yesterday, asking us to go with them to a church downtown. And there was some kind of fancy diplomat pacing the foyer and yelling a lot, but he left yesterday. Or maybe earlier today?”

“Don’t forget the big Yugoslavian guy,” Brian added. “He worked in the restaurant and brought out some food. Told us to help ourselves to the kitchen.”

“If everyone is dead, where are all the bodies?” Ash couldn’t wrap his head around this new reality.

“Mostly in their rooms, I guess. There’s a guy from the front desk still sitting in his chair, and the woman you tripped over.” Hilary shrugged. “There are more on the street outside, but we haven’t been out there.”

They sat in silence then.

Elusive thoughts skittered about in Ash’s head. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on one long enough to make sense of anything. The only thing he knew, with a bone deep certainty, was that he needed to get home to Chloe.

“So we drive.”

Hilary and Brian both jumped when he broke the quiet.

“You know I live five hundred miles from here,” Brian scoffed.

“I live eight hundred,” Ash replied with determination.

“The news reports were saying all routes out of the city were blocked. People tried to flee and there were accidents and then they started dying in their cars…” Brian shook his head. “You aren’t driving out of here.”

“I’ll walk. And then drive.”

“Man, you don’t get it. There’s nothing for you out there. There’s nothing for you anywhere. May as well just bunker down here and make the best of it.” Brian raised the Macallan in a salute.

“You don’t get it.” Ash’s tone was steely. “My wife is out there.”

“Come on, Ash. Be realistic. You’re talking about a suicide mission,” Hilary said.

“I’m talking about getting home,” Ash argued. “We can’t stay here.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of booze and the beds are comfortable.” Brian chugged the whiskey. “Why are you so desperate to get yourself killed when you actually survived this thing?”

“How about you don’t ask why I’m so desperate to get back to my wife, and I won’t ask why you’re not desperate to get back to yours?” Ash pushed back his chair and stood.

He was going home.