A/N: I don't own Stephen King, the Stand, or even Stand: the song. If I did, I would be rich. I'm not.
Stand in the place where you live.
Now face north.
Think about direction. Wonder why you haven't before.
"Argh! God, Phil! Turn that shit off!"
Now stand- *CLICK*
"There. You happy now, Annie? Hey, if it makes you feel any better, that band is probably dead by now."
"God, I hope so. Bunch of whiny pretentious fucks. Why do you even have a tape of that shit anyways?"
"Nice. The world ends, and I hook up with Denis Leary."
"Whatever. You know you love me. Or at least your dick does. Speaking of which, come over here."
"Well, since you asked nicely and all..."
Phillip Goswell went around to Anne Masterson's side of the truck-cab. He picked her up, walked around to the back where he lifted up the camper shell of his '79 F-150, and tossed her onto the beige futon mattress he "borrowed" from the Sears in town. He climbed in after her, opened his fly, lifted up Anne's skirt, and shoved his dick into her waiting, wet snatch. Her moans were incredibly loud. He joined her in being as loud as he wanted.
Why the fuck not? It's not like there's anybody alive for a hundred miles of here.
The rhythmic creaking of his truck's suspension momentarily made him think of that old Blue Oyster Cult song about Godzilla before he gave out an over-exaggerated scream and came inside Anne's warm goodness.
"Oh shit, was I supposed to wait until you came this time? I'm sorry hun, maybe next time." he said with a snicker.
"Oh, fuck YOU! See if you get some for the rest of the day then! I'll just take care of myself then, you bastard."
She did just that. With Phil watching, of course. Watching her fingers plunge into her sweet pussy over and over again always turned him on. In fact, her increased moaning got him rock-hard again.
"Well, looky-here! It must be tomorrow already!"
Phil said as he jumped on top of Anne again. Her moans intensified until she let out a scream that would put an asian porn star to shame. He always loved it when she did that, a thought that was confirmed by his sudden spasms and the copious amounts of cum he injected into her already overflowing pussy. The two of them collapsed onto the mattress in the bed of the truck, both panting heavily.
"Well, now what?" Anne breathed into Phil's ear.
"Well, we could fuck until we starve to death. Or we can see if we can find more food at the supermarket in town, find a nice king-size bed that doesn't have one of the moldy-oldies on it, and THEN fuck until we die."
SNAP.
"What the fuck was that?"
"It wasn't me! Look, Phil! Out there!" She whisper-yelled.
There were two men slowly creeping up to the truck. No doubt to find out what all the racket was, and maybe even to get a piece of the action for themselves.
"Annie. I want you to climb through the slider-window and get ready to start the truck when I say so."
"What the fuck are you gonna do?"
Phil produced the previously hidden shotgun out from under the mattress.
"I'm gonna find out how well Mr. Remington says hello. Now go!"
She did as she was told. She moved silently and fluidly like a cat through the slider glass and crouched flat against the bench-seat as she looked for the keys.
Well now, maybe I did get a woman with half a brain after all. That would be a first.
Phil opened up the camper shell side-window just enough for clearance and leveled the shotgun at the closest intruder. Without any warning, he fired. He was quite proud of himself when he saw the spray of red where the man's face used to be. It was almost his undoing, as his pause gave the second man enough time to get off a shot at the truck.
"NOW, Annie! GO!"
Phil fired off a hasty shot that clipped the other man's shin. The man screamed in pain and went down in a heap. However, he still retained his weapon. Phil readied another shot, but the other man fired first. Phil's face turned into a red soup as he was thrown against the opposite side of the truck-bed. Annie screamed as she started the truck and peeled out.
"Phil? PHIL? NOOOO!"
Annie flew into a blind panic-rage, and aimed the truck toward the reason for her losing her only ray of hope in this god-forsaken world. She ran over the man, backed up, and ran over him again. She did this for a full five minutes before she regained a tiny bit of sanity. The evil man was dead, but so was her Phil. She cried out as loud as she could, her tears flowing like rain down her cheeks. She had never felt more alone than she did at this very moment.
taptaptap. taptaptap.
A raven was sanding on the hood of the truck, looking intently at her from the other side of the windshield. Its beak tapping on the glass...
"ARGH! WHAT the FUCK do YOU want?"
Now now, that isn't a very nice way to talk, now is it?
"W-what?"
The raven kept staring at her as if looking straight into her soul.
I said that isn't a very nice way to talk to your savior.
That sobered her up.
"G-God?"
Yes, Margaret. In some circles, I am a God. Right now, I am your one chance to live. Will you hear me out?
"But, why did you take Phil from me?"
You did that yourself by not starting the truck in time. It couldn't be helped. As for you...
"No, no, NO! You can't be God! You're Satan! You killed everybody! And now Phil. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"
With that, Anne ran out of the truck and ran blindly through the vast field that her and her lover had previously picked at random as a 'good enough' fucking spot. She ran into a nearby grove of trees, but didn't see the protruding broken branch-spike just at eye-level. She ran headlong into it with such force that it skewered her skull completely through. Her last thought was of when she was nine. She fell off the bike that her father had just given her. She cried as her father sprayed Bactine onto her skinned knee.
The raven alighted to find the next one. There are always more.
No great loss.