“We’ve been dying for twenty years. Because of your fucking plague. Because of the insane cult outside your gates. Because the world is too fucking broken to be fixed.”
I look away from her, unable to stomach it any more. Maybe I had never thought to hope she was still alive. But I also never imagined that she would greet me like this, if she were.
“Nurrin, let’s go. There’s nothing here for us. And you need to get back in the Priest’s good graces.”
She glances over at Sylvia. “Thanks. For the tea.”
Then we leave.
Chapter 7.
Acceptance of Things
She’s quiet as we walk through the sleeping Holdout, a few steps away from me. I remember all the times Collin and I walked like this silent and apart, but together. Giving me space to wrap my head around what’s just happened, while still being there.
It helps, relaxes some of the tension in my shoulders as we walk. By the time we reach the barracks they've lodged us in, I'm almost calm again.
“We need to talk to the Priest. He's going to be pissed.” I say, finally.
“The Priest doesn't care about the cure,” she says. “All he wants is to reclaim the East. There's no reason he can't, if he could do it intelligently like the Holdout has.”
I slide a glance at her. “When has he ever done anything intelligently? Omar has a long fucking track record of doing things the hard way and getting people killed in the process.”
She turns, staring at me hard. “Like Kelsey?”
I go still. She hasn't pushed for the truth behind the mission that killed Kels in months. Long enough that I had begun to believe she didn't care—or had forgotten.
“Yes,” I say simply. “Like Kelsey.”
“You won't ever tell me what happened, will you? That's just something I have to accept is always going to be a mystery.”
“You know I'm not good at sharing things, Ren,” I say softly.
“I do. But you do, eventually. In time and on your terms. But not this. Every time she comes up, you shut down, and it's like we regress to asshole 8 Finn.” She looks away. “I didn't like him.” Something loosens in my chest. “I can accept that, you know. That there are things you won't share. I'm not the same girl who left 8. You aren't the same guy. And that's ok. I just—I need to know, if this is one of those things.”
I nod, without hesitating. “It is.”
She offers me a small smile and nods. “Okay.” As she walks into the barracks, she calls over her shoulder, “We need to meet with Omar.”
Chapter 8.
The Mad Priest
“What do you mean, your mother is alive?”
The outburst comes from Kenny, and I flick him an annoyed look. I hadn’t wanted him included in the conversation, but I was overruled by Omar.
“She died in Atlanta.” Omar protests.
“We thought she did. There was never confirmation of that. We never considered we needed confirmation. No one survived Atlanta. Millions died in the bombing. There was no way to verify that Mother was one of them. But she got out.”
“Are you sure it’s her?” Omar demands, his eyes bright and calculating.
I give Omar an incredulous stare. “Yeah. Pretty fucking sure.” Nurrin coughs and I grit my teeth. “She doesn't have a cure. That's the end of it, Omar. You have to know that if Sylvia Cragen doesn't have a cure, one doesn't exist.”
“Doesn't matter. We have the serum,” he says.
“Oh. The one that delays the inevitable—if you keep taking it?” Sarcasm drips from her tone. Nurrin is pissed. “You need to cough some of that up, Priest.”
“That medicine was offered in exchange for your cooperation,” Holly protests. “You disobeyed orders.”
Nurrin cocks her head and grins, a smile that looks faintly deranged. “Sweetheart, I’ve been through a lot of shit in the past few days and I'd really like to kill something. If you keep talking, I'd be happy to make it you.”
Holly's eyes narrow. “You could try.”
Nurrin laughs. “Your Priest might have saved your life, but he didn't train you. Finn O’Malley taught me. Are you sure you want to tangle with that?”
Hesitance flickers in Holly's eyes and Nurrin nods.
“Enough,” Omar snaps. “You will be given one dose. And we will leave tomorrow. If they can’t help us, we’ll take the East on our own."
“You can’t, Omar. Fucking hell, man. Listen to what I’m saying.”
“The infected are not active enough to be a problem,” he says, shrugging.
“Because there's no one here!” I shout, my temper breaking. “Because the fucking infected killed and ate everything they could find, and there's nothing here. You bring your army through, they’ll wake up. They’ll wake up and they’ll devastate you because you’re fucking underestimating them.
“You don't know that,” Omar snaps.
“I do, you fucking lunatic,” I snarl. “I was in Atlanta, and I watched them come out of their dormant state. I was in Benning and saw the same damn thing. They'll come here, too. You’re going to kill your entire army. Who the fuck will protect the Havens then? What the hell does your high priest say about fighting an unwinnable war?”
“You have no idea what Sawyer taught,” Lori hisses, and I laugh.
“Doesn't matter. This has nothing to do with your fucked up faith. It's all about his obsession. Be careful, priestess, or he'll destroy the Order you care so much for.”
Holly shifts, and I glance at her. She’s listening to me—Omar might not, but Holly is listening and hears my warning.
“I want to meet her. I want to hear from her that she can't help us,” Omar says, abruptly. “I don't have enough medicine to sustain the entire army if they're bitten.”
“Then take them home and remove them from danger,” Nurrin says.
“And what?” Omar finally shouts, throwing down the gun he’s holding. It lands with a clatter among the bullets waiting to be loaded and he glares at us. “What then? Sit behind the walls of the fucking Haven, or locked in the Stronghold, and pray to a dead priest that the infected won't come to our door? That worked so well for the Havens that already fell. How many fucking survive a Haven falling? Lori and four from 18. The four of you in 8. That's all I've ever heard walking out of a Haven that was overrun. We don't have any options. We need the East because we're going to die if we stay in the Havens. And you fucking know it. We need to find somewhere safe.”
“There isn’t a safe place.” I say, softly. “There hasn’t been in twenty years. Maybe there wasn’t before that. All we can do is survive—live and die the way we choose. Fuck the risks. If we can’t do that, we’ve already lost.”
“O’Malley,” Omar growls, a warning, but I shake my head, step back a little.
“I will get you a meeting with the council, if I can. But don’t expect any help from them. And it will cost you.”
Omar hesitates. He knows me well enough, long enough, to know what I’m asking for. I’ve waited, keeping the peace for the sake of his fucked up war.
But I’m done dancing for the Order. I’ll stay if Ren refuses to leave—but it will be on my terms.
Chapter 9.
The Final Council
The hall is empty this time, a far cry from the crowds that greeted us the first time we were here. There are a few lights still burning, and I glance at Josiah, who escorts us. “How do you get power? The grid went down before we left the East.”
“Solar and hydro power. Sylvia came up with the plans, and Ahab put people to work until we had a reliable source. They tried turbines for the first few years, but there was no way to ground the towers in the ocean so we gave that up after a while. It keeps us comfortable and we can produce weapons and the essentials.” He shrugs. “It’s not what most were used to, but it does the trick.”
It’s not even what we’re used to in the Havens, but I don’t mention that as he pulls open the door to the townhall.
Th
e council is already gathered—only Josiah’s stool waits empty. He breaks into a slow jog, nodding to Ahab as he takes the free stool.
Marie and Boyd are whispering as we approach and I slide a glance at Omar. “Follow my lead, for once.”
He gives me a hard stare, but stays quiet as we step into the circle.
“You need to move your army,” Marie announces without any lead-in and Omar’s expression goes startled. “It’s disruptive, and will attract the wrong sort.”
“Biters,” Ahab says, unnecessarily. “It’ll attract the dead. And the kid is good at his job, but we don’t need the threat of a horde outside the Holdout.”
“We need your help before we leave,” Omar says. “You have to understand what we’re facing in the West. The sheer numbers—we can’t match them, and even if we could, the infection is spreading too rapidly. We’re killing our people to keep them from turning. There isn’t a way to get ahead of the disease.”
“That isn’t our concern. You surrendered the East. We’ve found a way to survive.”
“It would become your problem,” Omar says softly, “if the balance changed here. If the infects weren’t dormant—and if we move the Havens to the east to keep them alive…”
He trails off, but it doesn’t matter—he has their attention now.
“You aren’t very smart, are you?” Josiah says, staring with barely concealed dislike.
“I’m the fucking High Priest,” Omar snaps.
“He’s got a title. Someone give the man a medal. We don’t give a fuck—we know what your Havens are like, what your fucking Order is. Being a priest doesn’t mean shit here.”
I think it’s the first time since the zombies rose that someone has failed to be impressed with Omar. I tilt my head. “You should have listened.” I tell him. Then to the council, I say, “We respect that you have your own priorities when it comes to the East. But the West is falling. We can’t hold it, and the Havens—they’re all that we have left in the United States. You can’t expect us to walk away from that.”
Boyd makes a low, dismissive noise, and I glance at him.
He was a low ranking aide at the UK embassy in the years before ERI-Milan broke. He was friends with Mother—one my father loathed.
“We aren’t Americans. Some of us never have been.”
“But,” Sylvia says, her voice soft but stilling the room. “We are humans. And we have never limited the precept to only the East. That would be as bad as what they did—worse, because they at least did not know we were being left here. To abandon them would be knowingly violating the precept.”
Boyd’s lips tighten. “You would have us aid them?”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then, finally, “We’ll die here. If we stay, we will. Maybe not in our lifetime, or even Siah’s. But the generation after—the resources will fail and we will die. And they will, if we don’t help them. I’m not willing to accept that. And the science—that is in my purview. I claimed them when they first entered the Holdout. I claim them still. If the Holdout is to offer help, militarily, is not my decision. Josiah will speak to that.”
“We can’t do much—and what we do will not weaken the Holdout’s defenses. But yes. We will help the West.”
“You’ll help us reclaim the East?” Omar says, and everyone can hear the shock in his voice.
Sylvia shakes her head. “You being in the East will solve nothing. The problem is the infected in the West. ERI-Milan is still mutating. What you need to do is stop the mutation, and stabilize your own infection—in the human populace, as opposed to the biters. If you’re immune, you can fight them.”
Nurrin inhales, a sharp noise. Almost painful. “You can immunize us?”
Sylvia shrugs. “ERI-Milan was born from Synthrix. Which was a neural inhibitor. The long-term use changed the users, and the widespread usage made what could have been a few isolated events a worldwide pandemic. But if Synthrix caused it, and the people who used Synthrix are dead or dying out—why is it still spreading? Siah was born almost a year after the change and never had a dose of Synthrix. But he is just as vulnerable to it as Keifer would have been. Why?”
She waits and then smiles. Says, “Because the bite spreads it. ERI-Milan mutated. The way the original pill worked was it infected you, targeting the emotional centers of the brain. It got in your blood. And when Emilie died, it mutated, trying to find emotional response. And when it couldn’t—it jumped. Through the bite.”
“So we need to immunize not against Synthrix, but the mutation that spreads in the bite.”
“There are too many mutations,” I argue. “That’s always been the problem—you can’t cure it because you can’t stabilize it.”
A smile turns her lips, and she glances at Josiah. “Siah, if you’d be so kind.”
He makes a face. “Object lessons are not my favorite thing.”
She shrugs. Muttering, he strips off his armor and tugs his shirt off.
At my side, Nurrin sucks in a breath.
He’s covered in scars. Some old and faded, some still pink and shiny. But every one is a familiar crescent shape.
Josiah has been bitten.
Chapter 10.
Blood Price
“I want him. Now.” Omar stares at me outside the council hall. “That was my price. You get to save the West and I get to kill the bastard that hurt her. You knew what I was asking for all along. I kept him alive for you in 1, and in the months since this shit started—but it’s over now. I want Kenny.”
Omar nods. “Fine. I’ll have him ready by nightfall. Sylvia will give us her stabilizer. And then we will take back the East.”
I jerk, and Nurrin laughs.
“Omar, you can’t. They won’t allow it,” she says.
He shrugs and I feel a chill as he stares at me blankly. “When have we ever let what people allow stop us from doing something, O’Malley? We make the rules. We always have. Because when it comes down to it, we’re the ones willing to kill to uphold them.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he stalks away and I shudder. He would kill the entire Holdout, to claim land that we don’t need. Not if Sylvia can deliver—and I know she can. Josiah is a testimony to that.
“Finn,” Nurrin whispers. “What—“
“Not our problem. We tell Josiah and Sylvia and we get out.”
She makes a startled noise, and I realize it might not be the best way to spring the end game on her. I turn, watching the emotions play across her face. She’s better, now, at keeping her thoughts to herself—but when we’re alone and she feels safe, she is still an open book.
“With Sylvia’s cure, we don’t need the Order. We don’t need their medicine. You’re free—we can go anywhere.”
“Maybe,” a familiar voice says and I swallow the curse. Twist to look at Josiah.
He has Da’s eyes. My eyes.
Sylvia’s smile, though.
He isn’t smiling now. Worry is shining from his familiar gaze.
“We have a problem.”
Chapter 11.
The Coming Dawn
The boat skips across the marshy swamp with a dull roar. Parker steers us, sitting next to what looks like a giant fan as we dart through the murky water and trees.
I can feel a thousand eyes on us, and suppress a shudder.
The infected might have killed the wildlife in the East, but even the zombie apocalypse was no match for the swamplands. Snakes and alligators slip through the water, eyeing us with disinterest.
“There—see them,” Josiah says sharply, and Parker banks slightly, the boat rocking as we skid sideways and slow.
It’s impossible to miss. The infected are a dark mass, moving too fast, too intent. Silent, streaming through the trees. They’re moving with purpose and unerring direction.
“How long?” Nurrin asks. “How long before they reach the Holdout?”
“They’ll hit the swamp first—it’ll slow them down, but won’t stop them. Twelve hours. Maybe more.”
“So how do we keep it secure?”
Josiah grins, a grim expression that reminds me of the man who captured Nurrin on the road, the one who is a threat—and who can protect a settlement the size of the Holdout. “It’s never been about keeping the Holdout secure.”
Chapter 12.
The Better Part of Valor
We watch the horde, tracking their progress for another hour before Josiah signals Parker to return to the Holdout. The boat is barely docked before he’s barking orders at the waiting soldiers. “Light up the alarms. They have four hours to evac. Get it started. And bring Omar’s army in.”
Josiah glances at me. “Your people will be better off evacuating.”
“The main force can, but my unit will stay and hold the city.” I say.
“My Firsts will as well.” Nurrin adds.
Josiah goes still, his wide eyes searching Nurrin. “You’re a First? Traveling with the Order? Are you insane?”
“Some think so,” she admits, shrugging.
A droning alarm shatters the morning air, echoing out across the city and the ocean beyond. “Where will they go?” I ask, looking at Josiah.
He grins. “When we came here, it was for a reason. It’s why we survived so long. The natural defenses—the ocean protects us on three sides. The swamp slows almost anyone headed toward us. And the islands give us a place to retreat.”
I give him a blank stare and he grins. “You’ll see. Right now, get your army moving.”
“Nurrin,” I say, twisting, and she meets me halfway, coming on tiptoes to kiss me quickly.
“I’ll go to Omar. You stay here.” She gives me a reassuring smile and jogs off.
“Park,” Josiah says. The other man nods, stalking after her, and Josiah grabs my shoulder and steers me deeper into the Holdout. “She’ll be fine. Park won’t let anything happen to her—and the horde is far enough away there is no real threat.”
The World Without End [Box Set] Page 56
