And, in 8, there weren’t any. I was the lone First in the Haven.
So part of me is curious about the people behind these doors, the people who are so similar to me.
I wonder why they are still locked in, and how long that will last.
The little room at the end of the hall is empty, a few white couches and a bookshelf with a stack of books spilling off the cluttered shelves.
A low beep fills the room, followed by a male voice. “Is anyone there?”
I stare at the tiny blinking intercom for a long moment, waiting for someone—anyone—to appear and answer the summons.
The beep comes again. “Look, I can hear you. And we’re hungry. Well. Maybe the others aren’t, but I’m hungry. And I need to piss. Can you get whoever the hell has clearance for that, and take care of this?”
Anger and curiosity bubble in my chest, and I grit my teeth. I jab the button and a loud squawk fills the room. There’s a soft curse from the intercom and I clear my throat. “There’s been a change of management here at the Outpost. But if you give me just a little while, I’m going to get this shit sorted out. Can you do that?”
The beep, and then, irritably. “Don’t have a lot of options, do I? Let’s move this shit along. I’m not happy about being here, but if I am, I’d at least like to be able to piss.”
I swallow the initial urge to snap at him and hurry down the hall.
Finn will be furious I’m wandering around the Outpost alone. He’ll probably kick my ass for it. But those are my people, hidden behind those doors and being forgotten.
Why is it that the small people, the ones who just want their normal everyday lives—those are the ones who are forgotten first? Fight your wars, and save the fucking world—that’s the big picture. Go take back the East, and wave your false hope cure around like some kind of fucked up white flag.
In the meantime, we live, just like we always do. Because the little people don’t have a choice. We don’t have the opportunity to chase greatness and world-changing events. We just want to live.
Chapter 4. Things That Don’t Change
OMAR AND FINN DIDN’T COME TO THE OUTPOST ALONE. Naturally. There are about a dozen Black Priests wandering the halls, containing what’s left of the Outpost personnel. A few give me assessing looks as I stride through the halls, but most ignore me. I may not wear robes, but I’m not dressed in all white sacrifice apparel either—I’m not quite their equal, but I’m not something they can kick around.
I find Holly first. I don’t know who or what she is in the grand scheme of things, but she seems close to Omar, which gives her some authority.
“The Firsts need to be released.”
She’s inventorying the med supply closet, and she frowns at me, distracted. “I’m sorry?”
I grit my teeth. “The Firsts. They’re still being held in their rooms.”
That gets her attention, and she stares at me, a little confused. “Of course they are. What’s the problem?”
“Why?” I demand, my voice rising in fury.
She huffs. “Because the Order still holds to our beliefs, Nurrin. I know you don’t like it—we don’t expect you to. But we can’t release twenty Firsts to make you happy. Especially since you and your partner aren’t doing anything to help us.”
I stare at her, stunned. “You still plan to kill them,” I say, my lips numb. She finally puts down the damn computer, and give me her full attention.
“Nothing has changed, Nurrin. The Order is still committed to eradicating the infection, and Father Sawyer’s teachings are clear what we must do to achieve that end.”
“Sawyer was a fucking lunatic. And you know that this won’t achieve shit—it’ll be twenty more dead at the hands of the infection, and they’ll die a horrific death, but nothing—not a fucking thing—will be accomplished.”
Holly shrugs. “It is their duty.”
“And mine,” I say, my voice silky and menacing.
Holly’s eyes narrow, and she seems like she’ll deny it, but then she nods. “Yes. And yours. You’re being spared, because keeping your protector happy is more important to the Order than killing you.”
She turns back to her inventory when I don’t respond. “Don’t worry about the Firsts, Nurrin. They aren’t yours to worry about. I’ll get one of the acolytes up to take care of them soon.”
Then she goes quiet, and I’m dismissed. That easily.
I’ve always been protected. By my parents, when the Order was rising, and I was at my most vulnerable, a little baby in the middle of the end of the world.
And later, by my brother, who left everything in his life undone, so that he could protect me. By Dustin in 8, and Finn, after.
I’ve never been a First on my own, trying to stay ahead of the Order and alive. It’s one of my worst nightmares—and I am closer to it now than I ever have been. But even now, with my brother dead and my parents long since gone—even now I am protected, by Finn.
Which is why I go back to him. He’s sitting in the same place I left him, still staring at nothing. That’s vaguely disturbing, but I don’t comment on it as I strip off my weapons, and let them clatter down. I tuck a throwing star under my pillow as I crawl past him onto the bed, and curl there.
I don’t speak to him.
And he doesn’t speak to me. Eventually, my heartbeat—when did it get so fucking fast and unsteady—slows, and my breathing gets even. And later, as I linger on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, Finn shifts, lying down behind me. I feel the phantom touch of his hand as it hovers above my skin. Then he hisses a breath and drops it.
We lie like that for a long time, a thin, invisible line separating us, before I eventually give in to sleep.
Chapter 4. The Things That Come Next
“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?”
I blink, in the process of tying my hair back into a ponytail.
Finn woke up after a few hours of sleep, and the quiet confession from earlier—the almost-sad man who made it—are gone. There is just his normal brusque detachment. And random questions I don’t have answers for.
“What options do we have?” I counter.
Finn smirks. “We could go back to a Haven. I have residents in a few that are untouched. 34, 17. Even 43.”
I glance up at that. 43 is Canadian territory, and few Americans were given clearance there. The Canadians were very polite when they refused us—but they did, and no one could blame them for that. Their Havens were small and densely populated because of how few they had.
“How on earth did you manage that?” I ask, curious despite myself.
Finn’s lips flick up in a grin. “Always with the fucking questions, Nurrin.”
I snort, an unladylike noise and he laughs outright, before he straightens. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I say, and his eyes widen. I make a face. “Finn, they’re death traps. Even the Canadian ones—they might be the last to fall, but that doesn’t mean they won’t eventually.”
“So you want to live in the Wide Open?”
I shrug. “We have the ZTNK. It’s not like we couldn’t.” I hesitate, and then, “I don’t want to be a haven girl. I don’t want to spend my entire life too scared to live. This is our world—I can’t hide from that.”
“If you don’t, you’ll die young,” he says, but there’s something about his voice that tells me he isn’t trying to talk me out of the idea—he’s trying to make sure I see all the sides of it before we commit to something this drastic.
“There’s another option,” I say carefully. Finn’s eyebrows go up as he stares. I take a deep breath. “We could help the Black Priest.”
His face closes off, going blank so fast it actually startles me. I lick my lips and hold up a hand.
“That’s a fucking suicide mission, and you know it,” Finn snaps.
“Why? Because it’s what we’ve always known?”
“Yes!” he shouts. “Because that shit doesn’t change just because a handf
ul of fanatics want to believe it does.”
“You didn’t even listen,” I shoot back.
“Because he’s a lying bastard who can’t be trusted. I’m not going to let him get you killed.”
“I’m not her,” I scream suddenly, and Finn jerks, like I’ve slapped him. “I’m not that dead girl, and you don’t have to wrap me in wool to keep me safe.”
“It’s suicide,” he repeats, his eyes as furious as his voice is blank.
“The Firsts are still being held,” I say, abruptly, and Finn’s gaze on me narrows. “I talked to Holly. They aren’t letting them go. The Order will still kill them.”
“Did you expect otherwise?” Finn asks, his voice laced with surprised disbelief.
“I hoped. If Omar really has a cure, why do they need to kill the Firsts?”
“They never needed to. Sawyer was an insane drug addict, and people listened to his ravings. That doesn’t equal need—it equals mass hysteria and insanity. And you want to work with these people.”
"I know that they're crazy. But he's got to have something. He wouldn't wave a cure at you if he didn't have something to back it up."
He turns to stare at me, his eyes incredulous. "You want to play chicken with the fucking Black Priest?"
"I want to live," I say, exhausted. "I want to live without wondering if this time when I step outside for water, an infect is going to catch me unaware. I want a safe place. A Clean place."
Finn stares at me for a long time and I finally shift. "You don't have to do this, O'Malley. Collin is dead. You don't owe me anything else. Take the ZTNK and find a safe place—go to Canada. I hear it's gorgeous this time of year."
His eyes harden, and he reaches for the door. "Don't say stupid fucking things, Nurrin. You're better than that."
I bite down on my irritation, the instinct to argue, just because I hate his overhanded bullying. I lick my lips and he frowns.
"We'll listen.” He says, reluctantly. “I'm not promising shit—if I think he's going to put you in danger, I'm getting us out of here as fast as I fucking can. Do you get me?" He waits, staring at me with narrowed eyes, and I nod, a jerky movement. "Good. We'll listen, and we'll kill Kenny, and we'll decide what to do from there."
"Why is he still alive?" I ask, the question that's been bugging me since they arrived at the outpost. The question that is more bloodthirsty than I'm comfortable with, but that I can't help but ask.
"Omar sent me to kill him. That was the price he demanded for your location. I give him the president, and he gives me you. It wasn't that high of a price--I wanted Kenny dead anyway, so what did it matter if it benefited the Order?"
"But he's not dead."
Finn shakes his head. "He had a few of his people there. And they stopped me, at the last minute. Took Kenny into custody. We were out of 1 in less than an hour. I didn't even have a chance to explain to Claire what had happened. She'll have put it together—she's not stupid and the information will have been valuable in trade."
"I like her."
Finn's gaze changes, almost softens. Finn, who is never soft. "She's a sweetheart. She's been a rock for me, over the years." His voice goes wistful. "I don't think I'll see her again."
"Why didn't you get her out of 1?"
"Because Claire is happy behind her walls. And at the end of the day, she's not the one I promised to protect. She has people who will keep her alive. My priority was finding you and Collin." I nod at him, slowly, and he gives me a quick smirk. "Come on, little girl. Let's get this done so we can move on with our life."
Chapter 5. The Impossible
WE KNOW IT'S NOT POSSIBLE. We know it's the hope that children whisper, and haven girls cling to. Apocalypse babies who never outgrow the stories of childhood.
ERI was a miracle drug that took a volatile world and turned it manageable. Calmed the worst violent emotions. But the beauty of it—the way it adapted to the body's shifting emotions, the highs and lows of the body's chemicals--that is exactly what fucked us so thoroughly when things went bad. It was too unstable to ever cure.
Every one of us learns the basics of ERI-Milan in second grade. We learn about Emilie Milan, the terrifying child, and the day she died. We learn about Sylvia Cragen and her psychotic brother, and the things she did for him. We learn about Atlanta and the dirty bombs and the horde that rose from the still burning city.
We learn about the way ERI worked, and the way it changed.
It killed every hope, except in the ones who are very blind. No one can listen to the history, and walk the Wall with our teacher and the armor-clad Walkers, and believe that there is any future but the one we are living.
A cure is a beautiful dream, a myth we whisper as children.
But that is all it will ever be.
Chapter 6. The Cure
THERE ARE TWO GRAY PRIESTS STILL ALIVE IN THE OUTPOST, and they lead us into the lab. I freeze in the doorway, my gaze going to the empty room I spent hours in. I know it's empty, and clean. I know that the acolytes have taken Collin away and burned his body.
It doesn't make it easier to step into the fucking room.
Finn nudges me roughly into the lab, and I twist to glare at him, but he's ignoring me, looking over my head at where Omar is leaning against a bank of cabinets. The Black Priest has his hands tucked into his pockets, and he's staring at the tops of his boots, all relaxed confidence and nonchalance.
The two gray priests are a little less relaxed. One's shaking so badly his pen rattles against his clipboard. I wonder if they believe in this cure, or if they're merely indulging the fantasies of a madman.
I wonder why all the world seems run by mad men? Is it because that is all there is left in the dying world? Or is it the way things have always been, and we're too blind to see it?
"Tell me what the hell you're talking about," Finn says, abruptly. I give him a sharp look but he doesn't acknowledge me. Omar stares at Finn for a long, tense moment, and then nods to the priests.
"This is Dr. Hudson and Dr. Lucas. They can explain it far better than I ever could."
Finn turns his attention on them, and I see the wide terror in Lucas' eyes before he looks away, fumbling his pen.
Hudson is quietly collected, though. "We've been working on this for almost six years. We aren't sure it's foolproof. And the word ‘cure’—that's not quite accurate."
Finn tenses. Hudson smiles. "The threat from ERI-Milan came because it mutated. And it still is. Every infect we examine, no matter where they come from, the blood tests and infection come back a little different. They share similar markings—the infection is impossible to deny in them—but the fact is that we're fighting a battle that can't be won. The disease is too virulent and there are too many strains. Even if we cured one, it wouldn't matter because the mutation of the disease happens on a basic viral level, and we can't undo that."
"So the cure isn't possible. That's what you’re saying." Finn says, his tone dripping disdain as he frowns.
"What I'm saying is that I can't cure the infected." Hudson pauses. "We stopped trying two years ago. Because sometimes, the best course isn't being reactive—it's being proactive. We have walls to keep out the infected, and we live in fear of being exposed to an outbreak. But what if we made it so that it didn't matter? If the outbreak happens and it's not a threat, we can fight back without worrying about catching the disease. And we can win."
Finn stares at him, and I open my mouth, suddenly dry. "You've found a way to immunize against ERI-Milan?" I ask, not sure I believe him. As much as I want to, I'm not sure any of us can afford to believe him.
"We found a way to stabilize it. It can't mutate and if it doesn't mutate, the infects are only an enemy. They aren't a death sentence."
"And you know it works?" Finn says. "You know this miracle drug will actually do what you say. It'll stabilize the virus so that you can't turn?"
"Theoretically," Lucas mumbles.
My head swings to him, and then back to Hudson, fur
iously. "Theoretically?"
Hudson flushes, a slow crawl up his neck. "It works in the test subjects."
Finn stares at the man for a long moment, and then his gaze swings to Omar, furiously. "You lying bastard. You never change. I don’t buy your lies anymore, Omar."
"O'Malley, listen."
"No, you fucking listen," Finn snarls. "You won't put her life at risk. Not this time. You can't wave a cure and a life without infection at me and expect me to follow you down the fucking rabbit hole again. This isn't the war, Omar. I'm not your fucking priest. Stay the hell away from us."
"It kept Collin alive." Hudson says sharply.
I freeze, the blood draining from my face, and Finn curses soft and vicious next to me.
My voice is steady, surprisingly steady, when I say, "What are you talking about?"
"We can't use this to cure the infection," Hudson says, and his voice is almost apologetic. "But we can use it to stabilize the virus where it's out. And the sooner we do that, the longer a patient can live post-exposure."
"How much longer?" Finn asks.
"Our longest has been six months," Lucas murmurs into the ground and I make a low noise in the back of my throat. This isn't real. This can't be.
I can't have my world shaken again, not this soon.
"We aren't doing this, Omar. Not until I see that the cure works."
I twist to stare at Finn, who’s watching Omar. A small, savage smile plays on his lips.
"How the hell do you want me to test the cure?" Omar growls.
"I believe there are a few people here who hurt her. I want them dead. We need to test this." Finn’s eyes are chillingly blank, and I know that this is for me. “Infect Silas, then give him the treatment. Give it to Kenny, and then have him bitten. If they survive, I’ll consider working with you.”
“Will you forfeit your claim on them, if they survive?”
Finn’s gaze slips toward me, and I don’t know what he sees, but it hardens and becomes brutal. “Not a fucking chance,” he says, softly.
The Future Without Hope (The World Without End Book 3) Page 10
