NEED TO KNOW
\nA new anthology of fresh takes on Stephen King’s ‘The Stand’ is on the wayThe book is edited by Christopher Golden and Brian Keene and features an introduction by King and a foreword by GoldenRead an exclusive excerpt from The End of the World As We Know It below<\/p>\n
Stephen King<\/a> fans, have we got a treat for you.\n<\/p>\n A new, star-studded anthology presents fresh takes on the bestselling thriller The Stand, and PEOPLE has an exclusive excerpt. The End of the World As We Know It: New Tales of Stephen King’s The Stand<\/a> returns to the harrowing world with “brilliant, terrifying and painfully human tales” set during and after the events of The Stand. The anthology, edited by Christopher Golden and Brian Keene, features an introduction by King, 77, and a foreword by Golden.<\/p>\n Contributors include such literary heavy hitters and celebrities as Wayne Brady<\/a>, S. A. Cosby<\/a>, Tananarive Due<\/a>, Meg Gardiner<\/a>, Alex Segura<\/a>, Paul Tremblay<\/a>, Chuck Wendig<\/a> and many more.\n<\/p>\n Below, read \u2014 and listen to \u2014 a short story by Tim Lebbon in The End of the World As We Know It<\/a> set far above an apocalyptic Earth.<\/p>\n \nListen to an excerpt from ‘The End of the World As We Know It’<\/p>\n GRACE\n<\/p>\n She smells rotting corn and hears a breeze shushing through dead crops, and somewhere far away an old woman plucks the strings of a guitar and sings an unknown song. The guitar is out of tune, and the song itches and stings like insects inside her skull. But Gemma knows this is only a dream.\n<\/p>\n Reality is closer and darker, and it knows her name.\n<\/p>\n Gemma, you disgrace me! Her father\u2019s words, though he is over a decade dead, and these are spoken in mocking tones by another. The old fool was wrong, Gemma. You\u2019re no disgrace. It was only f——, after all, where\u2019s the disgrace in that? And now you can make yourself free.\n<\/p>\n The voice is deep with a hint of terrible humor.\n<\/p>\n The man\u2019s fingers scratch at the door … scrit, scrit … and though he is already there, Gemma hears the approach of worn boot heels, close, closer. As if he has always been coming for her.\n<\/p>\n \u201cGemma!\u201d Matt shook her again, hard. Everyone on board the space shuttle Discovery was having nightmares, but they had to hold themselves together. They needed each other. \u201c Gemma, wake\u2013\u2013!\u201d\n<\/p>\n Her eyes snapped open and for a moment she stared right through him, her pupils dilated, and glimmering red. Matt shifted position, and the red glow disappeared. Reflected light, he thought. That\u2019s all.\n<\/p>\n Tim Lebbon.<\/p>\n Ashleigh Lebbon<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Gemma,\u201d Lizzie said. She was beside him, holding on to one of the sleeping bags tethered against the bulkhead. Her voice was calm, and Matt was glad she was still with them. If Frank had taken her with him instead of Hans, Matt didn\u2019t know what the f— he would have done.\n<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m okay,\u201d Gemma said, plainly not. She was shivering, and a bead of sweat lifted from the end of her nose and drifted between them. \u201cBad dreams, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cBad dreams,\u201d Matt said. He\u2019d had a nightmare when he last slept, a rabid dog chasing him through a field of fading crops. And Lizzie said she\u2019d slept fitfully, too. It was hardly a surprise.\n<\/p>\n They helped Gemma unstrap and she shoved herself across to the toilet, grabbing the handle and spinning herself around.\n<\/p>\n \u201cAnything new?\u201d she asked as she started undoing her suit. She left the door open and reached for her urine hose.\n<\/p>\n Matt turned away, hanging on to the ladder to the flight deck. Even with everything that was happening, they all deserved privacy and dignity.\n<\/p>\n \u201cPlenty of transmissions on our last two orbits,\u201d Matt said. \u201cNone of them good.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cSuch as?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cGemma, why don\u2019t you have something to eat before\u2013\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re trying to protect me, Lizzie?\u201d Gemma said, voice raised. \u201cSeriously?\u201d\n<\/p>\n Matt turned around. \u201cLet\u2019s keep it down. We can\u2019t lose it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not losing it,\u201d Gemma said, her voice softer. \u201cBut there\u2019s no point hiding anything. Is there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n Matt sighed. \u201cNo point.\u201d He looked at Lizzie. They\u2019d been talking about Gemma while she slept, the things she mumbled in her sleep, disturbing whispers of two-headed snakes and rabid canines that struck a chilling chord with them both. The similarity of their dreams was troubling, but he didn\u2019t believe they were relevant to the current situation. They were simply a product of it.\n<\/p>\n \u201cMost of the broadcasts from Europe suggest they\u2019re a few days behind the U.S.,\u201d Matt said. \u201cThere are widespread lockdowns, borders are closing, mass burials. There\u2019ve been skirmishes in the English Channel.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cSkirmishes?\u201d Gemma asked.\n<\/p>\n \u201cNaval battles.\u201d He didn\u2019t elaborate. The phrase was enough to shock them into a brief silence.\n<\/p>\n Matt glanced at the door to the air lock. His two dead friends and crew members were beyond, wrapped up in their sleeping bags. They\u2019d pushed them into the air lock and through to the depressurized payload bay after their deaths. Frank Mancini was from London. He\u2019d slit his wrists, and in the tussle when they tried to stop him, Hans took a knife jab to the throat that pricked his carotid. Some of their blood was still circulating the flight deck.\n<\/p>\n \u201cBut what about Kennedy?\u201d Gemma asked. \u201cThey\u2019ve been working on something. They can bring us down, right? Frank was the pilot, but you can fly this thing, too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve said before \u2014 not without help.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Gemma zipped her suit and sanitized her hands, shaking her head, every movement angry.\n<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re not giving up hope,\u201d Lizzie said. She and Matt swapped a glance, and Gemma turned to face them both.\n<\/p>\n \u201cKennedy,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n ‘The End Of The World As We Know It,’ edited by Christopher Golden and Brian Keene with an introduction by Stephen King.<\/p>\n Gallery Books<\/p>\n \u201cLast orbit, there was only one reply to our transmissions,\u201d Matt said. \u201cTech guy I don\u2019t know, name of Joslin. He could hardly breathe, could barely talk. He said a few people have died in Mission Control, but most have gone home to their families.”\n<\/p>\n \u201cAbandoned us?\u201d Gemma asked.\n<\/p>\n \u201cDoing what any of us would do,\u201d Matt said. \u201cExcept Joslin, right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cHe said he\u2019s stayed there because he has no family, and all his friends are dead.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cSo, you asked him about us? About what we should do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n Matt sighed. \u201cHe\u2019s just a tech guy, Gemma. An engineer. He had no answers. He just said . . . \u201dHe drifted off, remembering Joslin\u2019s clotted voice, his hopelessness.\n<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Gemma asked.\n<\/p>\n \u201cHe said he wished he was up here with us, instead of down there in hell.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Matt brushed aside floating blood as he pulled himself onto the flight deck. It spread across the back of his hand, sticking in the hairs there, and he wondered whether it belonged to Frank or Hans. Lowering into the commander\u2019s seat and strapping in, he tried to blink away the memory of their violent deaths.\n<\/p>\n Earth was visible to his left, breathtakingly beautiful and awe-inspiring as ever, only now he saw it through different eyes. In Discovery\u2019s payload bay was a large component for the fifth SDI satellite to be built, a multibillion-dollar venture to ensure safety and security down on earth. Their mission was secret, and their cargo even more secretive than usual. This SDI satellite was built to be offensive, with missle capabilities providing a rapid response to any attack.\n<\/p>\n Within 10 meters of him were two fully armed nuclear missiles. \u201cStill beautiful,\u201d Lizzie said. \u201cYou never tire of that view.\u201d She moved forward to float above the pilot\u2019s seat beside him, but did not strap herself in. That had been Frank\u2019s place. \u201cHow is she?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cOn the edge. Like all of us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not on the edge,\u201d Matt said.\n<\/p>\n \u201cReally? Your wife, your daughter? Aren\u2019t they in New York?\u201d Matt stared at the Pacific Ocean passing beneath them, wondering if some of those islands might survive. Then he understood that Discovery was the remotest island of them all.\n<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m mission commander,\u201d Matt said. \u201cI can\u2019t be on the edge.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Lizzie laughed without humor. When Matt looked at her, she was blurred from the tears in his eyes.\n<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe Frank did the right thing,\u201d Lizzie said. \u201cKilling himself? Killing Hans?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cHans was a mistake.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Matt said. \u201cNot the right thing. Not at all.\u201d \u201cBut we\u2019re…\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re waiting,\u201d Matt said.\n<\/p>\n \u201cFor what?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWe have food and water for another 12 days. More, now that Hans and Frank…\u201d He sighed. \u201cBy then, maybe something will have changed.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cAll that\u2019s going to change in that time is more Captain Trips, more dead people and less chance than ever of us bringing Discovery down.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cCaptain who?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a name I heard for the flu. In France it\u2019s \u2018Gorge Noire.\u2019 In New Zealand it\u2019s \u2018Whiu Hou.\u2019 It\u2019s everywhere, Matt. We can\u2019t assume anyone gives a f— about us, and we can\u2019t just wait for a miracle.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what we\u2019ve got on this boat.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Lizzie shrugged. Her hair had come loose, strands floating around her head like unruly snakes.\n<\/p>\n \u201cIf I try to land and we come apart in low atmosphere, we\u2019ll spread radioactive contamination over hundreds of miles.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWe won\u2019t come apart.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cThe chance of me landing Discovery successfully with no copilot and precisely no help from Mission Control\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t say zero,\u201d Lizzie said.\n<\/p>\n \u201c\u2014is 5 percent. Probably less.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the chance of us dying up here is 100.\u201d They watched the beautiful, dying planet passing them by. \u201cThat\u2019s not chance,\u201d Matt said. \u201cThat\u2019s certainty.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cPedant.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Gemma opens one of their food lockers and brings out the bags of freeze-dried rations. A spot of blood lands on her forearm and rolls across her skin like an excited bug. She blows on it. It lifts away, drifting. She is shaking.\n<\/p>\n … scritch … scritch …\n<\/p>\n She looks at the door to her left, leading into the air lock and payload bay beyond. Frank and Hans are through there, dead, wrapped in their sleeping bags, and something is scratching at the door.\n<\/p>\n … scritch …\n<\/p>\n \u201cGo away,\u201d she says. Soft, so the others won\u2019t hear.\n<\/p>\n Why don\u2019t you want them to hear? a voice asks from beyond the door. It\u2019s impossible. But she has heard this voice before.\n<\/p>\n \u201cGo away!\u201d\n<\/p>\n They already hear you talking in your sleep, apologizing to your father when there is nothing to apologize for, you never meant to\u2014\n<\/p>\n Gemma slams her hand on the locker, loud, and the voice ceases. She runs her fingers across the top of the food packages, counting. With Frank and Hans dead, there is more for them, and Matt has already said they can ration. Twelve days, maybe more. Their mission was only supposed to be four days long, so their return is already two days overdue. These extra packets were only ever in case of emergency.\n<\/p>\n Gemma laughs, and it comes out as a loud yelp. \u201cEmergency!\u201d \u201cGemma, you okay?\u201d Lizzie floats down from the flight deck.\n<\/p>\n … scritch … scritch …\n<\/p>\n \u201cYou hear that?\u201d Gemma asks.\n<\/p>\n \u201cHear what?\u201d Lizzie rights herself so they stand face-to-face. \u201cHey, Gemma. I\u2019m here for you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s here for you?\u201d Gemma asks. \u201cThirty-six meals. Plenty of water.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s good.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWhy? A meal each per day. Twelve more days to look down and wonder what\u2019s going on.\u201d Gemma glances at her watch. \u201cHow long until we\u2019re over Florida again? I want to talk to Joslin.\u201d\n<\/p>\n She does, and she doesn\u2019t. What she wants most is to get away from that voice\u2014\n<\/p>\n They don\u2019t trust you, they talk about you, you should never feel guilt for something you didn\u2019t do.\n<\/p>\n \u2014and the terrible scratching at the door, like something eager to be let in.\n<\/p>\n … scritch … scritch …\n<\/p>\n But I\u2019m already inside, he says.\n<\/p>\n She shoves past Lizzie and grabs the ladder, pulling herself up toward the flight deck. Matt turns to her as she arrives.\n<\/p>\n Never miss a story \u2014 sign up for\u00a0PEOPLE’s free daily newsletter<\/a>\u00a0to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer , from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories.\u00a0\n<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Gemma.\u201d\n<\/p>\n She looks from the window, crouching to see past him. They are coming up on the West Coast.\n<\/p>\n \u201cJoslin,\u201d she says.\n<\/p>\n \u201cI was just about to start trying him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n For the first three times, the only response is static. Lizzie comes in behind Gemma, and the two of them stand close by Matt\u2019s chair. Gemma breathes through her mouth, listening for the slightest hint of response. She tries to imagine Mission Control empty, screen displays still flowing, lights flashing, computers humming, everything meant to keep them safe now playing to the dead.\n<\/p>\n As the landmass of the USA passes by beneath them at 300 miles per minute, the static is replaced by a low, long rattle.\n<\/p>\n A breath, Gemma thinks. From behind her, down on mid-deck, she hears a loud laugh. She glances at Lizzie wide-eyed. She must have heard that!\n<\/p>\n “Is that someone breathing?\u201d Lizzie asks.\n<\/p>\n No, she didn\u2019t hear the laugh. Am I mad? Gemma thinks.\n<\/p>\n No, they\u2019re mad, the muffled voice says from down through the hatch and beyond the air lock door. Scritch … scriiitch … as he speaks, as if determined to scratch his way through to her.\n<\/p>\n She feels those scratches against the inside of her skull. \u201cJoslin?\u201d Matt asks. \u201cThat you, friend?\u201d\n<\/p>\n “Yeah,\u201d a voice says from the radio. It sounds like Joslin is speaking through a throatful of soup. \u201cNot doing so good here, Discovery.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cHas anyone come back?\u201d Lizzie asks. \u201cAnyone come up with a plan to help us\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n “Wish I could go … to her,\u201d Joslin says, drawing in agonized breaths. \u201cWish I could … see. But he\u2019s got his … hands on my throat. Squeezing. Feel hot. And cold. Got better\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s squeezing your throat, Joslin?\u201d Matt asks.\n<\/p>\n \u201c\u2014better yesterday, pulling through, then slept and … smells like death now, in here, and I think … I think it\u2019s me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cIs there anyone else left?\u201d Lizzie asks. Desperate. Leaning forward, as if to feed herself down along the radio waves.\n<\/p>\n Gemma watches the landmass of home passing beneath them. \u201cNo one,\u201d she whispers.\n<\/p>\n “Only you,\u201d Joslin says. \u201cDamn I feel so… \u201d He says no more. His breathing is low and fast, wet and cloggy. Gemma hears a soft thud and imagines Joslin resting his head on the desk.\n<\/p>\n \u201cJoslin?\u201d Lizzie asks. \u201cJoslin, what do we do? What do we do?!\u201d \u201cWe go round and round,\u201d Gemma says. \u201cEight days, or twelve. A hundred orbits, or two. And we watch the world die.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d Lizzie says. \u201cWe take her down, right, Matt? We take Discovery down!\u201d\n<\/p>\n Gemma drifts back down through the hatch, and this time she does not look away from the air lock.\n<\/p>\n There is no voice. The scratching has ceased, as if he\u2019s allowing her grief. A graceful man, she thinks, without knowing why, but his grace is horrifying, like the dance of fire in zero gravity.\n<\/p>\n The Graceful Man\u2019s silence is the worst thing she has ever heard.\n<\/p>\n Passing over the Atlantic Ocean they picked up a distress call from a cruise ship that was adrift with no crew left alive or able to work. The call was from a 7-year-old child whose mother was telling her how to use the radio. The girl was fine. She said her mommy was feeling poorly and a man had fallen over in the kids\u2019 play area.\n<\/p>\n Approaching Europe, Matt tuned into several big news agencies and listened to the reports. All of them were dreadful and tragic. None projected hope. A French channel broadcast what appeared to be a series of public executions of government officials. An English voice talked of skirmishes all along the south coast as boats from Europe attempted to land. One Spanish radio station played frantic guitar music with the presenter coughing and shouting over the top. Matt was pleased he didn\u2019t speak Spanish.\n<\/p>\n The PEOPLE Puzzler crossword is here! How quickly can you solve it? Play now<\/a>!\n<\/p>\n He understood enough, though. He felt like that kid on the ocean liner, adrift and asking for help from a world that no longer had the ability to care. I\u2019m mission commander, he thought, but the fact that there was no longer a mission and the only thing left to command was a dying crew…\n<\/p>\n He hated to think of them and himself like that, but it was the truth.\n<\/p>\n \u201cI feel like that kid on the ship,\u201d Lizzie said, and Matt laughed. There was no other way to react. \u201cSo, I\u2019ve been thinking…\u201d she said, but a noise from behind silenced her.\n<\/p>\n Gemma came up from mid-deck and gave them both a food packet. They were half-empty, the leftovers from yesterday. They\u2019d stopped tasting of anything, but Matt still ate, and drank from the water bottle by his seat.\n<\/p>\n \u201cThinking what?\u201d Gemma asked. She was quieter than ever now, eyes wide, the skin around them dark from exhaustion. She didn\u2019t want to sleep, she said, because she wanted to grasp every minute left to them.\n<\/p>\n Matt heard the lie every time she spoke it, because she was grasping nothing. Gemma hung around on mid-deck most of the time, staring at the air lock entrance, sometimes with her head cocked. She watched them with those wide eyes, hardly saying anything.\n<\/p>\n \u201cNothing,\u201d Lizzie said. \u201cJust thinking.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cThinking about how we finish things,\u201d Gemma said.\n<\/p>\n Lizzie caught Matt\u2019s eye. He\u2019d been thinking about that, too. There would soon come a day when the food ran out. It would be a long time before the water was gone, and he knew they could live for weeks without food, but they\u2019d weaken, fade, and if they were going to do something…\n<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Matt said. It needed saying. \u201cThinking about how we do that, when the time comes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cTime came days ago,\u201d Gemma said. \u201cEverything\u2019s worse. Nothing\u2019s better down there. Joslin\u2019s rotting in Mission Control.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t try to land,\u201d Matt said. He was worried they were about to have that discussion again. But Gemma surprised him by nodding, smiling, and he thought it was the first time she\u2019d smiled in a while.\n<\/p>\n