In the End

by Lunetta, Demitria

  I rush past him and sprint away from the others, up the stairs to my cell. Jacks isn’t there, and there’s no note from him.

  Buzzing with adrenaline, I can’t just sit and wait. Besides, the Floraes are outside and I can do something to stop them. I doubt anyone in the exercise yard will survive, but maybe I can help the guards prevent the infection from taking out everyone in the cellblocks, too.

  I decide to go up to the roof and scout out the situation, take out a few Floraes from there. I’ll also be able to spot any hover-copter arriving. I scribble a note to Jacks telling him to meet me on the roof and then I lock up. I’m about to run for the staircase when a sob escapes from the next cell over.

  I go to the open door and peer in. What I see hits me like a punch to the stomach.

  “Pam?”

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  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Pam looks up at me from where she sits on the floor, eyes red and puffy. In her lap is a man, bloodied, breathing in short gasps. His shoulder has a chunk of flesh missing, the gouge dripping a dark puddle onto the floor of the cell.

  “Mike, he . . . He was bitten,” Pam says. “He came to find me. . . .” She stares at me, unseeing. She holds a bunched-up shirt to Mike’s shoulder to stanch the flow of blood. Her hands are covered in green-black goo.

  He’s already begun to change.

  I draw my gun and Pam’s eyes focus in on the weapon. “No! You leave him alone!” she screams.

  “Pam.” I have to calm her, explain to her what she doesn’t want to admit to herself. “He’s changing. Soon he won’t be Mike anymore. He’ll just be a Florae. He won’t know you.”

  “I don’t care,” she says quietly. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, smudging dark blood across her face.

  I watch Mike. His hair has almost completely fallen out, his skin tinged a pale green.

  “He’ll kill you,” I say.

  “I. Don’t. Care,” she says to me in little more than a whisper.

  I think of all the people still out in the Yard, fighting their way back to the cellblock, hoping to lock themselves into their cells and ride out the infection. Finally getting there, that close to safety, and finding Floraes waiting for them. “I can’t leave you, Pam,” I tell her. “Either he’ll kill you or turn you. I can’t endanger everyone in the block.”

  Pam’s head drops as she digs through her clothing. She produces something from the pocket of her skirt and tosses it at me. It’s heavy and metallic—a large, opened padlock.

  “Lock us in,” she commands.

  I want to plead with her, but I know it’s pointless. She is determined to stay with her man until the end. “Where’s the key?” It kills me to ask, but I can’t take the risk that she’ll open the door after I’m gone.

  Pam takes a key from her pocket and throws it to me. This time I don’t catch it, and it skitters across the concrete walkway and over the side, falling two floors down.

  Once I snap the lock on them, there’ll be no turning back. My resolve breaks. “Pam, please.” I try one last time. “You don’t need to die.”

  “If Mike dies, I don’t want to live.” She gazes at his face, stroking his head, pulling away the last, wispy brown hair as she does so.

  I place the padlock between the two bars of the door and the cell. “Last chance,” I tell her.

  “Do it.” She doesn’t look up. I close the padlock with a click that echoes through the cellblock. I have sentenced her to death.

  Mike reaches up as though to scratch his nose, then rubs it so hard it begins to come off his face. His mouth twists into a snarl, baring his teeth, sharp and yellowed.

  “If you love him,” I say quietly, “you’ll let me end it.”

  I don’t think she hears me, but just as I turn to leave she responds. “He’s still my Mike. I’ll be with him until he’s no longer the man I love. After that, I don’t care what happens.”

  I force myself to walk down the hall, my limbs heavy. As I make my way to the roof, my body shakes with rage. I tell myself the screams I hear below aren’t Pam’s. And they might not be. So many people are dying right now, it’s impossible to tell who owns what cry of pain.

  When I pull open the door to the roof, I see that dawn is breaking. With the light, the Floraes will become even more aggressive, even more lethal. As I look around, I inhale, startled to find a figure cowering by the door. It’s the Warden, clutching a rifle to his chest and muttering to himself.

  “Warden?” I say. But he ignores me, too overcome by fear.

  I step around him and head to the ledge, searching the chaos below for signs of Jacks, Brenna, or Ken. No hover-copters have come yet; the only things of note in the sky are a few clouds and the pink-orange color that marks a new day.

  I turn my attention back to the exercise yard where so many have changed. Those still human are being slaughtered. I check my gun. My backpack lost to me, I only have the one clip with no more thirty rounds remaining, and I shot at least three Floraes on the way to the cells. I wish I could do more. The Warden whimpers. I glance at him and consider the rifle he’s cradling. Depending on how many shots he’s taken, there could be as many as thirty more bullets, and a rifle would be more effective this high up.

  I go to him and reach for the gun, but he twists away from me, clamping it to his chest.

  “I need this,” he whimpers again. “For my own protection. My men are dead.”

  “What men?” I ask to keep him talking while I calculate how to go about overpowering him. He’s not large, but he’s scared out of his mind, which could make him unpredictable. Especially with that rifle in his hands.

  “My personal guards.”

  I shake my head, unable to drum up any sympathy. He’s the one who let Hutsen-Prime experiment on his prisoners. He’s the one who continued to deal with New Hope after the Floraes appeared, selling out the people of Fort Black as lab rats. The only way he got to where he is now was by standing on the backs of the people he was meant to protect.

  He’s not a threat, I say to myself. He’s a pest. I reach for the rifle and quickly pluck it from his hands.

  I’m about to head back to the ledge when Ken bursts through the door armed with a rifle of his own. Looking relieved to find me there, he reaches back through the doorway and guides Brenna through it. Her eyes are open but flat, uncomprehending. Ken eases her to the ground and looks at me.

  “I’m glad we found you. Jacks said you’d probably go back to your cell. When you weren’t there, I thought you got trapped in the exercise yard.”

  “Jacks.” I look to the doorway, expecting Jacks to step through, but it remains empty. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. . . . We got separated. I contacted New Hope, a hover-copter is on the way.”

  “We can’t just leave Jacks—”

  A figure fills the doorway and I wheel toward it, rifle raised, hoping it’ll be Jacks, but fearing it will be a Florae.

  Instead it’s Doc who stumbles toward me, his lab coat covered in brown-red stains. He’s followed by a huge bulk of a man, his left shoulder covered in blood.

  I freeze in panicked shock. “You—you’re dead,” I say, disbelieving.

  “Not just yet, cupcake,” Tank says, growling, lurching toward me.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I raise my gun, but before I can shoot, an arm snakes around Tank’s neck and he’s jerked backward. Jacks’s face appears. Relief floods my veins but is instantly replaced with fear. All Jacks’s focus is on Tank as he pounces on his chest. He punches Tank’s already broken nose.

  “You killed her,” Jacks screams as he pummels Tank’s face. Tank reaches up and pushes Jacks off. H
e struggles to his feet, holding his damaged shoulder. Jacks jumps at him, but Tank uses all the strength in his good arm and connects a sweeping punch to the side of Jacks’s head. Jacks entire body recoils at the impact.

  Jacks shakes his head woozily and looks as though he’s about to fall before he shakes himself straight. He leaps at Tank again, and Tank tries to sidestep but is too slow. Jacks punches him in wound, and the pain brings Tank to his knees.

  “You killed her,” Jacks repeats, his voice guttural.

  “Yeah, I killed her.” Tank grins, exposing his blood-soaked teeth. “And she was sweet.”

  Jacks brings his knee up to Tank’s jaw, and Tank’s body falls backward. Jacks kicks Tank’s head again and again, his blood pooling beside his body.

  “Jacks. Enough.” I say. Jacks looks up at me blankly then slumps down beside Tank’s body, his head in his hands. I go to his side, but Doc holds out an arm to stop me.

  “Give him a moment,” he says, his voice filled with tenderness.

  My blood churns at his touch. Where was that compassion when he decided to start his experiment? Unable to control my anger, I grab his slight body and drag him to the ledge.

  “Look at what you’ve done!” I scream.

  “I had to!” he says, trying to push me off. “Mistakes were made, but none of them were my doing.”

  Likely sensing how close he is to being thrown over the edge, he stops talking. When I don’t let him go, he starts again.

  “I had no choice. They were going to replace me! Dr. Reynolds made it clear I needed this to work or I was done! Do you understand? Failure isn’t tolerated. Do you think Dr. Reynolds wouldn’t punish me through my son? If I am not successful here, the only place for me in New Hope would be in the Ward! And my son would be there too. Do you want that for Jacks?”

  He twitches his head down toward the madness in the yard with disgust, as though he weren’t responsible for it. “Time was running out. They were coming for me in the morning! Brenna would redeem me. Brenna had to be the answer.”

  It feels good to tighten my grip on his arm, to drive my fingers through his flesh to the bone beneath and feel him squirm. The man was going down and didn’t care who he took with him, didn’t care who he killed. He’s whimpering in pain, and I notice for the first time the trail of red we’ve left across the roof.

  I drop his arm and back away. He isn’t covered in his victims’ blood. He’s covered in his own.

  “You were bitten.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve taken the vaccine.”

  “Look around you,” I tell him, stunned by his self-delusion. “The vaccine doesn’t work.” I hear a hollow thud behind me, a sound I’ve learned to recognize as an otherwise completely silent hover-copter landing.

  “Are you coming?” Ken shouts.

  Doc moves to go around me, but I shake my head and step in front of him, raising the rifle.

  Ken appears at my side. “We’ve got to go now. Doc can come if he wants. We’ll let New Hope sort it out.” As fitting a punishment as being committed to the Ward would be for him, I can’t let Doc come with us. “He’s been bitten,” I tell Ken.

  “Leave him then,” he says simply. “Let’s go.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and nudges me toward the hover-copter.

  “I can’t go without Jacks,” I say, continuing to stare at where Doc stands by the ledge, still believing he has done something good. I run to Jacks’s side. He looks up at me. “We’ve got to go. Now, Jacks.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t leave here.”

  “You have to. It’s not safe,” I plead.

  “It’s not safe anywhere.” His eyes have begun to clear. “You’re going back to that place, where they have your sister? Where they tortured you? No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t come with you.”

  “But Fort Black is dying,” I tell him. “It’s infested with Floraes.”

  “My father . . .”

  “He’s been bitten. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not leaving him here alone. And my uncle? They’re the only family I have.”

  I don’t know how I can make him understand. He refuses to budge. He’s in shock.

  I take his hand. “Jacks . . . your father is infected.”

  Jacks looks to where his father stands by the wall. He walks slowly over to his father, with me in tow.

  “Dad?”

  Doc looks at his son. “I . . . I’m sorry. For everything. For the years I wasn’t with you and Layla, for what I did to your mother, for all of this.”

  Jacks nods. “I forgive you.” He drops my hand and reaches to my other hand, taking the gun.

  Doc eyes the gun. “What happened to Layla was never your fault. You did more for that girl than I ever did. You were a better role model, a better provider. It wasn’t your fault, son.”

  “I know,” Jacks tells him. “I love you, Dad.”

  Doc stands up straight. “I love you too, Son.”

  Jacks raises his gun and fires in to Doc’s chest.

  Doc stumbles back, clutching his wound and staring at Jacks, his face torn between pain and love. Then he falls backward and disappears over the railing.

  I turn to Jacks and take the gun away from him. “Jacks, I . . . Are you okay?”

  He nods once, tears streaming down his face.

  “It’s now or never, Amy,” Ken calls to me.

  “Jacks please. Come with me.” I reach out for his arm and slowly lead him to the hover-copter.

  Ken looks at Jacks, covered head to toe in blood. “No,” he says simply.

  “I’m not leaving him,” I say.

  “Then stay. I was only letting you come because of Kay . . . but taking him—the risk is too great. What if he’s infected? And you . . . You’re not supposed to be anywhere near New Hope. Do you want to get caught? Because the more people we take, the more likely it is that you’ll be found out.”

  I look at Jacks, who is slowly regaining his senses. “Amy, go. I’ll be fine.”

  I shake my head. “You’ll die.”

  “I won’t. I said good-bye to my father. I’ll go back to my cell and lock myself in. I’ll be safe there.”

  “If you live,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “Your uncle knows how to contact New Hope. That’s where I’ll be.”

  “New Hope,” he repeats, nodding. “I’ll find you in New Hope. I promise.”

  He hugs me to him, brushes his lips with mine, and then pushes me toward the open door of the hover-copter. Before I know what is happening, the door has closed me inside. I collapse onto the floor of the hover-copter and hug my knees.

  The ache in my chest worsens the farther we get from Fort Black. I realize that all those feeling for Jacks that I buried deep down inside are now being ripped from their hiding space and are rushing to the surface. I cry into my knees and for the first time in a long time, let myself feel.

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  PART THREE

  THE END

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  We land outside of New Hope, and the door to the hover-copter opens. Kay steps out with me.

  “You remember what I told you, sunshine?”

  I nod, “Wait until dark. Then go to Building Nine, climb the fire escape to the fourth floor. The window will be open.”

  It was pure luck that Kay happened to be on patrol near Fort Black when Ken radioed for help. She was piloting, and when she stepped back to check on me and her brother, she found me crying on the floor of the hover-copter. She didn’t try to comfort me. Instead she acted as if we’d never been apart, and started talking tactics. It worked, pulling me from my sorrow. I wiped my tears and listened to her strong, able
voice.

  Kay laid out the game plan to get me into New Hope, that it was too dangerous to bring me in all the way. Instead I would walk in, Kay letting me know the best route since the new cameras have been set up around the perimeter.

  Kay looks at me for a moment. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m . . . fine.” I tell her, hiding the truth. I’m far from fine, but I can’t break down again, not now when I’m so close.

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get caught.”

  “I won’t.” I pull up the hood of my synth-suit. I’d abandoned my sweatshirt and pants miles ago, tossing them out of the moving hover-copter, leaving me wearing only the black, thin synth-suit. I used to feel naked wearing the thin fabric, but now I feel like I am wrapped in a layer of protection.

  Kay steps back into the hover-copter, and before they take off, I offer Brenna a small, hopeful wave. She’s too far gone to wave back, and I hope that Ken knows what he’s doing. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m abandoning her, but she should get the best medical attention in New Hope, before she’s subjected to anything worse. I hope I can help her before then.

  The hover-copter rises noiselessly and disappears over the tree line. I back away into the shadows and wait for the cover of darkness.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  For weeks I’d been desperate to get back to New Hope. I thought all the waiting was over, that it would be time for action. But now that I’m here—nothing.

  I sit on the floor of the studio apartment and wait. I’ve been waiting three days. Three days of hiding. Three days of delay. Three days without action. I thought I felt confined in Jacks’s cell, but now I really am caged. Kay made it very clear—I’m not allowed to leave for any reason. Twice a day, Kay or Gareth bring me food and try without success to deflect my questions.