In the End

by Lunetta, Demitria

  “No one lives back there,” Jacks tells me sharply. “Not by choice, and not for long, anyway. It’s full of people infected with Pox who are about to die. They keep them there until the bodies can be removed.”

  I look at his dark, scowling face. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you angry?”

  “Amy, I have every right to be pissed. I didn’t know where you were. I’ve been waiting for hours. You shouldn’t wander off by yourself,” he hisses at me.

  “I’m not a child.” My voice is just as sharp as his is. “Contrary to what you’ve been telling everyone, you don’t actually own me. You’ve done a lot for me, but I’m not yours. Maybe you should remember that.”

  His face softens slightly. “You’re right. I was just worried. I thought . . .,” He looks at the floor. “I thought something had happened. Or maybe . . .,”His voice trails off. “Or that maybe you decided to leave Fort Black. I thought you . . . just left.”

  In the silence that follows I wonder what it took for Jacks to admit that I’d hurt him. Already his face has begun to harden again.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him before it sets in stone again. “I promise, I won’t leave Fort Black without telling you.”

  There’s another long silence, but this time I hold his gaze, neither of us daring to look away. “Jacks, your uncle came to see me today. He kind of threatened me . . . I think.”

  Jacks head snaps up. “Threatened you how?”

  “He just . . . got really close to me.” As I say it, it sounds ridiculous, but it’s hard to explain how it made me feel. Helpless. “He told me that a girl can die really easily here and to watch my step.”

  Jacks nods. “I’m sorry if he scared you, but that’s how he is. He tries to intimidate everyone. It’s my fault. I was stupid and asked him about Ken. He told me he didn’t know who that was. . . . But, Amy, he must know something, or he wouldn’t have come to talk to you. He doesn’t like that I’m helping you.”

  Almost in a whisper I ask, “Why are you helping me?”

  My heart beats faster as I utter the question. I’m not sure how I want him to respond.

  “At first I thought you needed protecting, a messed-up girl on her own. You remind me a lot of my sister. Although Layla wasn’t half as aggressive as you are,” he says, shaking his head. “I wasn’t able to keep her safe, so I thought maybe I could help you.”

  “And now?”

  He shifts from one foot to the other, looking almost nervous. “You’re just . . . not like a lot of people here, Amy. You stood up to Tank. You question things. You’re not a sheep. You’re fearless.” He breaks my gaze. “And I’m scared all the time,” Jacks admits quietly. “Those Floraes—they scare me shitless. I don’t think I can ever leave the prison, not with them out there. But you . . . You were outside these walls for years. I can’t even imagine leaving for a few seconds. That’s all it takes for the creatures to kill you, you know, a few seconds. But it doesn’t even bother you. You’re not afraid of anything.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say. “I wish I were fearless. But I’m scared of so many things.” Of facing Dr. Reynolds, of never seeing Baby. I’m frightened of the ways that Kay and Gareth are being punished for my escape. I’m afraid that I’ll never find a place to belong. That I’ll be stuck wandering the After for the rest of my life.

  “Just try to make it work here, Amy,” Jacks says. “If you shoot half as good as you fight, you could be a guard.”

  “And work with Tank?” I ask with a tight laugh to hide my terror.

  “Or you could be a Scrapper,” he tells me quickly. “You’re fine with going outside the walls. You’d just have to bring back things people want to trade for. . . . Or you could help Pam with her sewing. You could make a life here.”

  “I can’t do that. Not while my sister’s in trouble.”

  “So bring her here.”

  I recoil at the thought of bringing Baby here. The truth is, I haven’t thought about my plan after I break her out. I guess I could find a place nearby. We would live safe from the Floraes, protected by the sonic emitter. We could visit Fort Black: I could visit Jacks.

  It worries me a little to realize I don’t want to leave him.

  “It’s not as easy as you make it sound,” I say at last.

  “Because of that other place. The one you were at before you came here?”

  I nod. He’s watching me patiently. I take a deep breath, “It’s been . . . hard. . . .” And then I start to tell him about my years in the After with Baby. My voice cracks when I talk about her, and when I start to talk about New Hope, I falter again. “When we were taken to the other colony, a place called New Hope, I thought we were finally truly safe, but it was worse than living with the Floraes.”

  He’s listening intently, waiting for me to continue.

  “I was tortured by doctors because I found out about the Floraes, what they really are . . . the result of an experiment.” I leave out the part about my mother creating the bacteria that turned people into Floraes. “My sister was part of the original test group. So was my . . .”

  Rice. What was Rice to me?

  “My friend was also a part of it.”

  I swallow hard. I hadn’t meant to tell him so much. “I’m here to find Ken because he can help me get my sister out of New Hope.”

  “Amy, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I . . . I would have done anything to be able to save my sister.”

  It’s my turn to ask. “What happened?”

  For a moment I think he won’t be able to talk about it, but then he tells me in a strained voice, “I tried so hard to protect her.” He shakes his head angrily. “Tank took a liking to her too, you know. He’d follow her around, stare at her. I made sure to put a stop to that shit right away though. That’s why I took his file, way back then. I wanted to see what I was up against. As soon as I read it, I told my father, who said not to worry, so I told my uncle, and he made sure Tank knew she was hands-off.”

  “Still, she was scared of him. She used to be so vibrant, even in those first days when the infection broke out. She tried to tell me it was all going to be okay. She said it was important to remember that we still had each other, so things weren’t all bad. But once Tank started stalking her, she hardly ever left the cell, not even when I was with her.

  “The night of the fire, the one I told you burned up the yard, I tried to keep her safe. I was afraid it would spread to us here, so I made her leave. Everyone was scrambling. I lost her in the crowd.” His eyes burn with the memory. “She died in the fire. It’s my fault.”

  I look up, startled at this admission. But the look on his face tells me not to say any more.

  The silence stretches out between us, but after a while he speaks up again. “So you think Ken can help you get her back?”

  “He’s the only hope I have.”

  “I get it.” He nods, but he doesn’t look happy.

  “That’s why,” I say quietly, “I can’t promise that I’ll stay here. But I can promise that I won’t abandon you. If I leave, I’ll tell you first.”

  He stares at me, as if wanting more, but that’s all I have to give.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  PART TWO

  NEW SORROW

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For three days straight I return to the same spot and watch the door for Ken, but I don’t spot him again. There’s always someone guarding the area. Jacks came with me at first, but eventually he had to go to work, which I told him he couldn’t skip, especially with the Warden on to us. He relented when he realized there was no way to convince me to go back to the cell to wait.

  “If anyone bothers me, I’ll just tell them I’m yours
,” I say.

  Eventually he begrudgingly leaves. With the masses of people walking around, the guard either doesn’t see me from where I sit quietly against the wall, or he’s choosing to ignore me.

  I’ve begun sneaking back in the dark, my synth-suit hood pulled down so I blend in to the darkness. It’s useless; I can’t be there all the time. I have to sleep. There are hours when Ken can pass in and out without detection.

  Toward the third day, Jacks has finally begun to actively help. He doesn’t say why, but I know it’s because of what he shared about his sister. He’s kicked into action, and is now asking everyone he knows about Ken.

  When I slink back to the cell for the fifth day in a row of no luck spotting my target, I announce, “I think I need a bike.”

  “Why?” Jacks says, not looking up from his sketch.

  “When I do find Ken, I’ll need to get to New Hope.” If I need to get to New Hope in a hurry, I could probably snag a car, but again, I’d have to find one that has keys and gas and figure out how to drive the thing. And then, if it breaks down, I’d be completely screwed. It will be good to have a bike as backup.

  “Amy.” Jack’s tone is serious. He puts down his pad and places his elbows on his knees. “I think you have to face the possibility that you’re not going to find this guy.”

  I look at him. “What are you saying?” I ask, trying to hide the edge in my voice.

  “I’m saying that no one seems to know this guy. Not me, not Pam, no one. And Fort Black just ain’t that big of a place. For the number of people I’ve asked, it’s just odd that we can’t find him.”

  “But I saw him.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks softly. “Maybe you saw what you wanted to see.”

  “Yes.” Tears fill my eyes. I reach for the bottom bunk for support and sit down hard. “Yes. I’m sure. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m crazy. Right now Baby is probably being strapped to a table, undergoing who knows what. I won’t give up hope. I can’t.”

  His brow furrows as he looks at me, the tears running down my cheeks. “Okay, okay. We’ll get you a bike.”

  Gruffly, he pats my shoulder then, realizing his roughness, takes more care when he awkwardly sits next to me on the bunk. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says, looking at me for a moment before gently pulling me to him.

  I sink in to him, immediately feeling comforted by his warmth. Despite the fact that we’ve spent a week together nonstop, I haven’t been this close to him. His arms and chest are solid muscle; the material of his shirt is soft and clean. I know I should pull away—but it feels so safe here. I take a deep breath and exhale.

  He holds me closer, burying his face in my hair.

  “Amy . . .”I feel him pull away and angle his head toward my face. Our lips are so close now, and I pause, wanting to give in, but then quickly pull away.

  “We’ve got to go,” I mumble, shaking my head. I begin to ready my pack. I don’t look at Jacks, but I can feel his frustration. His disappointment. The silence is thick.

  “Look,” I say finally. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen, and my main priority is—”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain,” Jacks says coldly, standing to retrieve his keys from the table. “It’s fine. Let’s just help you find this Ken guy so that I can get my space back.”

  I stare at him as he steps out of the cell, and I follow, my face burning. I barely register that Brenna is standing in the hall until she calls out loudly.

  “Hey, lovebirds,” she yells, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I was just coming to find you, Jacks. Got some details on my tat I need working out.”

  “Can’t right now. We’re going to get her a bike,” he says, nodding toward me. “So she can leave,” he says pointedly.

  “Oh.” She gives us a strange look. “Well, hate to step in, but seems like you two could use a break from each other.” She turns to me and grins. “I’ll take you to get that bike.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Jacks starts.

  “Give me a break,” Brenna cuts him off. “We ain’t exactly helpless.”

  I smile, despite myself.

  “Whatcha got to pay him with though?” Brenna asks, and turns to me.

  “I’ve got enough to trade,” I tell her, patting my bag. Jacks already told me that I could trade the batteries and charger for a good bike. I also have that half bottle of vodka I scavenged. . . . Alcohol is another commodity that is in high demand in Fort Black. I start out the door.

  Jacks grabs my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “I get it.” I shrug him off. “Close quarters.”

  He nods and steps back. “Be safe.”

  “I’ll take care of her, Jacks,” Brenna tells him, and we start off. “Geez, you’d think he didn’t know you can take care of yourself. I mean . . . we saw you kick ass. Jacks is such an old woman!”

  “I heard that!” Jacks shouts after us.

  Brenna just laughs loudly. “I call it like I see it!” she yells back over her shoulder.

  We walk down the stairs in silence, but as soon as the door to Cellblock B closes behind us, Brenna says, “Seems like I walked in on the middle of something.”

  “No, it was nothing.” We skirt the edge of the yard and head to the Arena. I look around for any sign of Tank, but I don’t see him. I can’t help feeling that I’m being watched, and I try to shake off my paranoia.

  “Jacks is a good guy. And there ain’t a lot of good guys around this place.” After a pause, she says, “Let’s find you a getaway vehicle.”

  We walk past Cellblock A over to the Arena, where Brenna calls to a tall black man hovering just inside the fence. “Dwayne!”

  “Brenna!” He walks over to us and smiles easily. He’s trim but not emaciated like some of the people who live in the exercise yard shantytown. “I should be mad at you. You made me lose a package of batteries last week on your fight.”

  “You should know better than to bet against me,” she tells him with a grin. “You know I can’t be beat.” She pulls me closer. “This is Amy. She wants a bike.”

  He looks me over, taking in the ill-fitting sweats that Jacks lent me.

  “She got something to trade?” he asks doubtfully.

  “This is Jacks’s girl. Of course she has something to trade.”

  He nods and flashes a toothy smile. “All right then, follow me.” He cuts toward the back of the prison, past the cellblocks to the backyard. We walk between the back building and back wall. Out of habit, my eyes scan it, searching for Ken, but as usual, he’s not there. Just a scattering of people leaning against the far corner and a single guard escorting them one by one through a door.

  All are covered in black boils. One coughs uncontrollably, while another doesn’t move at all.

  “Pox,” Brenna says. “Don’t get too close.”

  I nod as we walk to the far back corner, where Dwayne and Brenna slip through another door, the one I haven’t seen before. My heart skips a beat. Is this a different entrance? Maybe I can get to Ken from here.

  “Are you sure it’s not restricted?”

  “It’s just a hall that leads to the garage in the back,” Brenna explains. “The Pox victims are quarantined to that section of the wall we passed. You won’t meet up with them here.” She’s mistaken my excitement for concern.

  We head down the corridor out to the bottom floor of a parking garage. Instead of cars, it’s filled with bikes and storage containers. Dwayne walks to a nearby container, pulls out a key, and opens it. He steps inside and wheels out a light-blue bike.

  “This is what I got.”

  I step up and inspect it. It seems to be in good shape. I take the handlebars and wheel the bike forward. “The creatures don’t mind the noise of the bike wheels on pavement. Unless there’s something wrong with the chain or something and it makes an irregular sound.”

  “Oh, okay.” Like the man’s bike I saw when I first arrived at Fort Black. “
What about a trailer?” That other man’s bike had one, and it definitely would come in handy on the road.

  Dwayne nods and brings one out, hooking it up to the bike and making a show of demonstrating as he hops on and does a lap around the garage. When he reaches us again, he stops and looks at me expectantly.

  “Come on, girlie. I showed you mine. Now show me yours.”

  I freeze until Brenna elbows me. “What did you bring to trade?”

  “Oh.” I grab the bottle of vodka from my bag. Dwayne raises his eyebrows and holds out his hand. I glance at Brenna, who nods, so I hand the bottle over. Dwayne takes a swig and grins. “This ain’t the watered-down stuff. . . . Where’d you find this, girl?”

  I shrug. “We got a deal?”

  He considers. “It’s good, but not a bike’s worth of good.”

  I take batteries and charger from my bag and hold them up to Dwayne. “That’s a solar charger. I can give you eight double-A batteries for the bike and trailer.”

  Dwayne stares at the batteries, considering. “Sixteen for both.”

  I try not to panic. I have only the eight batteries. That’s all the charger holds. “Eight and the bottle of vodka for both, and that’s my last offer.” When he hesitates, I make a show of putting them back in my bag.

  “Okay, okay, you got a deal. I’ll even throw in a bike lock.”

  I make the trade, and the man pulls out bucket of black paint and a small brush.

  “How should I mark it?” he asks.

  “Mark it?” I look at him blankly.

  Brenna answers for me. “Put Jacks’s name on it. That way everyone will think twice before trying to steal it.”

  I look at her in horror. “Does that make the bike his then?”

  “It’s his, anyway. . . . If you’re his, which you are”—she eyes Dwayne—“then all your stuff is actually his.”

  “Fun,” I mumble, shaking my head.

  Brenna shows me where I can leave the bike, in a line of a handful of other bikes, all marked with writing. Only the Scrappers really need bikes, and I don’t think to ask when Brenna yells, “Here’s mine!” and points out a light-pink bike with the words Touch this and die scrawled across the seat.