Into The Fire (The Ending Series)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I sat up. “How are you feeling about your telepathy?”

  “It is what it is. I doubt I’ll ever be able to hear responses like Dani.”

  “Yeah, but one-way communication is better than none, and it seems like there are no distance barriers. That’s even better.”

  “I’m sure there’s a limit to how far, I just haven’t found it yet.”

  I shook my head. “Whatever. At least your Ability’s easy to control. It’s straightforward.”

  “Maybe,” she sighed. “But your control’s been getting better.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I can turn it on and off. There are some people it doesn’t work around very well.” I thought about Jake. “But that might be more of a me thing than an Ability glitch.”

  Sanchez took a long, deep breath and held it. “I’m…concerned for you, Zoe.”

  My eyes snapped to her. “Why?”

  “Your Ability is a saving grace in a lot of ways. You can tell when danger is coming now, or at least you’re getting better at that. You know when someone’s lying and when they’re sad.”

  She was right. Feeling what my friends were feeling and seeing their most sacred memories was becoming increasingly easier.

  “But you’ll see things about people that you’ll wish you hadn’t. To me, that sounds more like a curse than a gift.”

  I thought about it for a minute—about Jake’s private memories of his sister and of the intimate feelings Biggs and Sarah had whenever they were around one another. I thought about Sanchez’s memories of her abusive childhood and how she’d come to be the women she was—I agreed with her. My Ability was problematic and exhausting, but deep down I knew I probably wouldn’t change it if I was ever given the chance…even if I couldn’t really explain why.

  We sat quietly for a moment before she jumped to her feet. “Come on. One more round before we head back.”

  It was my first day riding Shadow, so we only ventured a couple miles away from camp, far enough to give him some exercise and a change in scenery. Much to my apprehension, I didn’t use a saddle because the clanking sound of it frightened him, but Carlos had helped me create a padded halter for his face, so I didn’t worsen his healing wounds. Shadow had clearly been ridden before, making the experience a good one even though I worried I was hurting him half the time.

  Sanchez and I rode between the rocky cliffs of a canyon, through a long-forgotten mining community. The sound of clomping hooves accompanied us up the rocky hillside as we made our way back to our little western town. The steady sound of the breeze and the frequent cawing of a hawk off in the distance lulled us into a lazy silence.

  I thought about life a million years ago and how untouched everything had been. Then humans came along and cut everything down, took over, and corrupted most things that were natural and beautiful. But not anymore. I almost laughed as I considered the unexpected twist of fate. We were the minority again. We were the outnumbered visitors in a place that would continue to thrive. We were the ones fighting to survive.

  A few paces in front of me, Sanchez sneezed, and I watched her for a moment, realizing how much she’d changed in the months I’d known her. While I found myself hardening into someone I barely recognized, she seemed to soften. She was still the epitome of feminine strength, but she also seemed more compassionate and vulnerable than before.

  “I’m starting to think we might actually have a chance,” she admitted as she leaned forward to pat Delilah’s neck. “Between all our Abilities…” She shrugged. “I definitely think we have a chance.”

  “As long as Jason doesn’t null us all in the middle of everything,” I scoffed.

  I immediately regretted saying his name. Sanchez’s relaxed expression hardened, and she stared out at the grassland that stretched out before us as we kept moving in the direction of our camp, settled beyond the next bend of trees. Jason seemed to be her own form of kryptonite. She struggled to shrug off his indifference toward her, but she never seemed fully able to do it.

  “Stop staring at me.” She glared, but I knew her irritation was only a defense mechanism. She trusted me with her privacy the way I trusted her with my life.

  The corner of my mouth lifted in sympathy as I felt her vulnerability surface for the second time since breakfast. She’d had another unpleasant run-in with Jason while he and Jake were gearing up to go hunting.

  Their past was one she’d cherished before, but now it ate away at her. Years ago, they’d been friends who could grab a beer when they had a free evening or sit casually outside of a pool hall getting lost in conversation, completely forgetting about the time. Sanchez wasn’t typically like that. Neither was Jason, and that’s what had made their friendship so special to her. I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been lovers, but the years they’d spent together on the same base had shown her that he was someone she could have grown to love if circumstances had been different.

  None of it mattered anymore…at least, not to him. He never so much as glanced her way unless he had to, practically treating her like a leper. His cold shoulder and one-word responses created tension so thick that we all grew anxious when the two were in close proximity. The longer Dani was away, the more palpable the tension became.

  “I wish we had a better idea of what sort of Abilities they have access to at the Colony,” I thought aloud. “So we really know what we’re up against…so that we can form some sort of a plan.” I thought about the programs Dani was learning about, and the altered “people” she was meeting. What else is going on that she hasn’t seen? The possibilities frightened me.

  Sanchez took a swig from her water bottle and slid it back into her saddle bag before looking over at me. “We know more than we did,” she said frankly.

  I nodded, and we plodded through the scant woods and into the ghost town, heading for the stable. When we were finished with the horses, I took advantage of the sunlight to finish a sketch of Shadow I’d been working on, while Tavis, Chris, and Sanchez went to get a fresh batch of water. Jason and Carlos were probably at the sheriff’s office, whittling like they had been the last couple days, and Harper and Jake were playing fetch with the dogs. Sam seemed to be the only one unaccounted for.

  Setting my sketchpad down, I gazed around. I noticed Sam-sized Nike footprints in the dirt and decided to follow them. The closer I came to the Sheriff’s office, the clearer I could hear a quiet whoosh and thunk coming from the shooting range we’d created behind it. We’d been using the cowboy cutouts we’d found in the General Store as targets and hay bales and sacks of fake sugar and flour as obstacles.

  I wandered over, only to find Sam standing in the last patch of sunshine in the center of the shooting range, his stance wide and his arms upraised; one arm pulled a bowstring back to his ear and the other held the bow extended in front of him. He was aiming an arrow at one of the bullet-riddled cowboys furthest from him.

  I remained quiet, watching Sam’s deep concentration and feeling the focus radiating from him. “I can feel you watching me,” he said without looking in my direction.

  Just like he could see the blood covering my clothes in the darkness? Interesting. A smirk lifted the side of my mouth, and I took a step toward him, arms crossed over my chest. “You look like you know what you’re doing,” I said playfully.

  Sam let go of the bowstring, and the arrow flew straight through the air, piercing where the cowboy’s heart might be. He readied another arrow, and I watched him go through the same motions again—he let out a deep breath, shifted his feet, aimed, took another deep breath, and then released the bowstring. The arrow sailed off to the left, piercing a cowboy’s groin area.

  “I like the way you think,” I said, laughing. “Where did you learn archery?”

  “Tavis.” Sam readied another arrow and, again, aimed and released. When he let go, he hit his target spot on—another cowboy, right in the chest.

  “Why a bow and arrow?” I asked, half knowing the answer already. He was young, and I ass
umed Tavis hadn’t wanted him to carry a gun. There was something unsettling about making a child shoot to kill, no matter the situation. Even though it was awkward and harder to carry around, the bow seemed less imposing and more…civil in some strange way. It made sense to me. I hated the feeling of cold metal in my hands and the sound of cracking gunfire.

  “I don’t like guns,” he answered.

  “Me neither,” I said honestly. I stood and watched him while he walked to retrieve his arrows a few dozen yards away.

  “Then why do you have one strapped to your leg?” he called.

  “I need to be able to protect myself,” I said with a grin. “Unlike you, no one’s ever taught me to use a bow.”

  Sam looked at me as he returned. He was considering something; I could see it in his appraising eyes. “Want to make a deal?”

  “Perhaps,” I said, tilting my head in curiosity.

  “I’ll get Tavis to get you a new bow from the archery place in town, and we’ll teach you how to use it, if you’ll teach me how to draw.” He stood there, watching my thoughtful expression, waiting.

  “You like to draw?”

  He nodded. “I saw your sketchbook in the house. I liked the one you started of the pregnant lady with crazy hair.”

  It was the sketch of Sarah I hadn’t finished in her absence. “Well, thanks. But that seems like an unfair deal, don’t you think? You’ll give me a bow and teach me how to use it, and all I have to do is give you drawing lessons?” As I finished, I saw a memory of his mother painting in a room scattered with paints and rags and canvases. She’d been an artist.

  “Take it or leave it,” he said sharply.

  I stifled a laugh. “Do you know how to defend yourself if you don’t have your bow?” I asked, an idea forming in my mind.

  His face was expressionless.

  “How about you practice hand-to-hand self-defense with me when I train during the day, plus you help me with the bow, and then in the evenings we’ll draw?”

  He nodded in agreement. “When do we start?”

  I smiled. “How about now? But we’ll have to make this one a short session. I’ve been training all day, and my body aches. Sound good?”

  He eyed me skeptically.

  “What can I say, I’m old,” I said with a smirk. “Humor me.”

  He handed me his bow and an arrow from his quiver. “Here you go.”

  I stared at the bow for a moment before accepting it, surprised by the weight of it in my hand.

  “You have to hold it like this…” Sam maneuvered the fingers on my left hand around the bow’s grip and then showed me how to hold the arrow between my index and middle finger with my right. “The fletching has to be lined up like this,” he said, rotating the arrow in my grasp. “Otherwise the arrow will shoot off in that direction.” He pointed to a pine tree off to my right. “Stand with your feet spread apart a little…good. Now raise it up.” He stepped away to demonstrate with an invisible bow of his own.

  I did as my young instructor commanded and allowed myself a smile. I’m getting archery lessons from a ten-year-old.

  “Don’t smile,” Sam chided, and I cleared my throat to stifle another laugh. “Pull the string back to your cheek,” he said, observing me. “No, further.” Sam huffed and groaned as he guided my arm back further. “Okay, now let go.”

  Taking a deep breath, and then another, I squeezed my left eye closed to focus on the painted target. My fingers released the string and it snapped back into place. A grin spread across my lips as I watched the arrow glide past the target and land somewhere behind it. I was far from hitting my mark, but I felt victorious nonetheless. “I did it.”

  “You need practice,” Sam said dryly. “But that wasn’t too bad.”

  We continued practicing, and after sighing at me a couple times, Sam finally smiled with pride. After each shot, he had me back up a yard or two, testing me. When I’d let my seventh arrow fly, he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Good,” he said, walking beside me to retrieve the arrows.

  “I kinda like this,” I admitted.

  “I knew you would.”

  I pushed his shoulder playfully. “You think you know me so well, Sam?”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “Having fun?” Tavis called as he pushed away from the side of the sheriff’s building.

  I jumped. “Jesus! I didn’t know you were watching.”

  He laughed, clearly amused. “Not long. How’d you do?”

  “I think I did pretty good, actually,” I said, handing Sam his bow. I tied my hair back into a knot to keep it out of my face. “But you’ll have to ask my teacher for an unbiased opinion.” I looked back at Sam.

  “Zoe did better than you,” Sam interjected with a subtle smirk, and I winked at him in gratitude as my own smile grew.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” I said with a teasing shrug.

  Tavis pointed to himself. “Better than me? This guy right here?”

  Sam peered up into the sky, squinting and ruminating like he wanted to make absolutely sure. “Yep.”

  Tavis’s mouth was gaping in mock horror, and then he gave Sam a wry look. “Well, we can’t all have perfect aim like you, Sam.” He ruffled the boy’s brown hair.

  Having collected all of Sam’s arrows, the three of us headed back toward the boarding house. “Did you guys bring back more water?” I asked, realizing I was thirsty.

  Tavis nodded, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. “We did, and Harper’s making rabbit stew, so I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Ravenous, actually. How about you, Sam?”

  “Meh, I could eat,” he said casually right before his stomach grumbled.

  I nudged his shoulder with my elbow. “‘Meh?’ I don’t think your tummy agrees with you.” I laughed, and when I glanced up, I noticed Jake and Sanchez watching us from the stable. Sanchez acknowledged us with a nod and turned toward the paddocks, but Jake’s eyes lingered on the three of us. His eyes met mine before he turned and followed Sanchez.

  23

  DANI

  MARCH 21, 1AE

  I twirled my fork, making a nest of noodles and tomato sauce on my plate. This evening was the first time I’d been in Gabe’s house, but it wasn’t much of a change in scenery. His kitchen was much like mine, filled with taupe counter tiles, walnut cabinets, and an asymmetrical island. We were sitting across from each other at the small, square oak kitchen table.

  “Are you sure?” I asked after chewing and swallowing my latest bite. It tasted of garlic and tomato sauce from a jar. Gabe wasn’t a bad cook, but his skills didn’t come close to Cam’s. I was spoiled in my previous life.

  “I’m too recognizable to be out after curfew. It’s an impossibility…and you shouldn’t go either. It’s too dangerous.” He watched me, his pale blue eyes pensive. “Maybe you can just tell those Re-gens—”

  “Camille and Mase,” I corrected. I was getting tired of everyone—except for Dr. Wesley, I acceded reluctantly—treating the Re-gens like dogs. They were trained, experimented on, and kept ignorant in the most ludicrous, disturbing ways, and though I knew their brains worked a little differently, they were still human, more or less. They had human emotions and human reactions, and I wanted Gabe to treat them like…well, humans.

  Gabe took a deep breath and gently set down his fork. “Maybe you can tell Camille and Mase what you’re looking for, and they can carry out the search for information for you.” After a pause, he added, “I really don’t think you should endanger yourself, especially not with everything going down tomorrow night.”

  I not-so-softly dropped my fork. “Oh, but I should let them risk their lives because they’re what…not real people? They have feelings like you and me, Gabe, you just have to give them the chance to show you.”

  “But they’re not like you and me, Dani,” he snapped. He lowered his hands to his lap, but I could see his arms tensing as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Not anymore. I k
now they look like normal people and they talk like normal people and, hell, they probably really do have normal human emotions to some degree, but they’re not the same as us…they’re not the same as they used to be. She…their brains are different…closed off to me.” Running his fingers through his blond hair, he sighed. “I don’t trust them.”

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe they are different, but you’re right about another thing that’s more important—they are my friends, as much as you are.” More so, even, I thought. They haven’t betrayed me. Pulling a folded-up piece of paper out of my jeans pocket, I said, “Any information you can give me to answer these questions will help us plan our escape better.”

  “Our escape…” Gabe repeated as he reached across the table to snatch the paper from my fingers. It was filled with the many questions I’d written to gather information about the Colony after my mind-convo with Zoe and Jason the previous afternoon. After several long, silent minutes, Gabe stood, strode over to the sink, and pulled a lighter out of a nearby drawer. He held the piece of paper over the sink, and with a flick of the lighter, set it aflame.

  “What are you doing?” I screeched, jumping up as I watched the paper shrivel into an ashy ball.

  Gabe dropped it before the tiny flames burned his fingers, and shook his head. “It’s evidence against you—against both of us. I’ll gather as much information as I can tomorrow morning, but no list. Someone might find it,” he told me.

  I forced myself to reclaim my seat. “Why’d you say ‘our escape’ like that?” I asked softly.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you aren’t actually planning to join me. We’ve been over this. You promised,” I reminded him.

  He didn’t answer immediately. “Why do you even want me to leave with you?” he finally asked into the sink. “After what I’ve done to you—”

  “Because I care about you!” I blurted without thinking, and it was true. I do care about him…probably more than I should.