Instructions for the End of the World by Jamie Kain Page A

ideals it was founded on, and I don’t really care about that anyway, but I hate when people talk about it like it’s some kind of super-special paradise.
    Mostly it’s a place where people escape from reality. And it’s kind of a shitty place to grow up. I knew all about sex by the time I was, like, six years old, because I’d seen so many drugged-out losers doing it right out in the open, and I’d experienced a lot more than that by the time I was this girl’s age. The stories I could tell her.… I mean, some of the people at Sadhana really are trying to be enlightened beings and all, but it also draws a lot of oddballs and people who don’t want to live in the real world with real responsibilities.
    Not that I blame them.
    Pauly’s favorite Queen song has come on the radio, and he has cranked up the volume so loud no one can talk. The music makes him drive faster, and as we speed toward town we can see billowing smoke over the mountains in the distance, from the nearest wildfires. It’s been forever since a fire has gotten this close to us, but they come every year to this part of the state, as regular as the seasons. It’s usually so hot and dry in the Sierras by this time of year that there’s no stopping the flames.
    I like how they make the night glow red sometimes, and I like how the smoke hangs in the valleys and colors the air beige. It feels like the end of the world.
    Which reminds me of what Wolf told me about seeing the girl in the woods with the gun. I lean forward and turn down the radio as we reach the edge of town.
    â€œSo, do you have your own rifle?” I ask Isabel, and Kiva’s eyebrows shoot up.
    Isabel makes a disgusted face. “My sister does. Not me.”
    â€œIs your family into survivalism?”
    She makes a pained face. “Um, my dad is, kind of, I guess.”
    I see from the tension in her mouth that I’ve caught her off guard, bringing up something she doesn’t want to talk about.
    â€œSeriously? You’re a survivalist?” Pauly says.
    â€œDo you guys believe the zombie apocalypse is coming?” asks Kiva, who loves zombies.
    I don’t understand how anyone loves zombies.
    â€œNo way. But my dad is kind of into that stuff, and my sister too. He’s got her totally brainwashed.”
    Survivalist gun nuts, moving in right next door to our peace and love spiritual commune? It’s such an awesome coincidence I almost laugh out loud. I really have to meet the gun-toting sister, ASAP, and figure out what her deal is.
    NICOLE
    When I realize Isabel is missing I try not to freak out. I mean, how far could she really go, anyway? She has no sense of direction and no money. But then I imagine her hitchhiking, getting picked up by some creepy guy, and panic rises in my chest. Dad trusted me to be able to take care of my sister, the house—everything—and it’s all falling apart. I’ve already failed, in less than a week.
    I first search the property, hoping to find her moping in the barn or looking for something in the garage, or most unlikely of all, communing with nature outside, but part of me knows it’s a fruitless search. I can tell by the silence, the peaceful stillness that Izzy is incapable of, that I’m alone. She is forever humming or fidgeting or declaring herself bored.
    I think of my bike in the garage and go get it out. Maybe I can catch up to her before she gets picked up, if I ride fast. I am strapping on my helmet when I notice I have two flat tires. Of course. The bike has been sitting unused while we were getting ready to move and then moving. I am the only one in the family who owns a bike. My sister had one, but she left it unlocked at school and it was stolen last year, causing my dad to refuse to buy her another.
    I look around for the tire pump but all I see are boxes waiting to be unpacked, because Dad doesn’t include unpacking the outdoor stuff in our