The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  The fact that Harper and Jake hadn’t told me such a huge secret—about me—pissed me off. After everything I’d been through with Jake, he hadn’t uttered a word, and Harper, who I’d thought was my friend, had been just as secretive. How the hell did I not sense this?

  Harper and Sanchez were debating whether we should stay or leave as I stomped through the swinging kitchen door and into the dining room. I tried to remember that Sarah needed my help and that I had to focus on her situation, not mine, but when Harper smiled warmly at me, anger heated my cheeks, and I glared at him.

  Sanchez turned in her seat to face me. “Yes, Zoe?”

  I ignored her. Refusing to look at either of them, I stared at the crystal chandelier hanging above the oversized mahogany table. “Harper, Sarah needs you upstairs…in my room.” When they said nothing, I added, “It’s sort of important,” hastily turned, and walked away.

  Hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone else before reaching the sanctuary of my room, I hurried toward the entryway. Unfortunately, as I got to the foyer, Jake and Cooper strolled in through the front door. I ignored the warmth in Jake’s eyes as I hurried up the left staircase and disappeared into my room. I slammed the door behind me.

  “You okay?” When I heard Sarah’s trembling voice, I was instantly grateful it wasn’t me sitting on the bed, crying about pregnancy and babies. She fiddled with the hem of the sheets, and her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

  Forcing a smile, I answered, “Yeah, fine. Harper’s on his way. We’ll get this figured out, don’t worry. Everything’ll be okay, you’ll see.” I sat down on the bed beside her, wringing my hands with unease.

  A light knock on the door startled me, and Harper popped his head in. “Can I come in?”

  His nice-guy charm was suddenly irritating. “Of course you can. I asked you to come up here, didn’t I?”

  His relaxed facial features hardened at my curt tone. “Whoa, who spit in your porridge this morning?” he asked incredulously as he strolled into the room.

  “We’ll talk later,” I said with false cheer and stood. “You need to focus on Sarah right now.” I walked to the window, hoping to find a distraction floating on the choppy waters of the lake below. I listened as Sarah explained her situation and as Harper encouraged her to believe that everything would be alright, no matter the outcome. Eventually, I tuned them out entirely.

  I thought of better, simpler times, when the most difficult decisions I had to make were which shifts I wanted to take at Earl’s or which art pieces I wanted to showcase at the gallery. I wanted to worry about what to wear to work and not have to deal with freakish Abilities or Crazies or prophetic secrets.

  A despairing whine snapped me out of my daydreams, and I turned to face the bed. Sarah had received a positive result from a urine test, and her eyes were again filled with tears. She threw herself back onto the bed, moaning and cursing about the unfairness of it all.

  Not knowing what to say, Harper and I stood awkwardly beside the bed. “Good thing I had what we needed,” he said under his breath.

  “Are you sure?” Sarah asked, oblivious to his comment. “I mean, should we run the test again?”

  He sighed. “We’ve done it three times, Sarah. I’m 99 percent sure you’re pregnant. You need to tell Biggs.”

  Before Sarah could argue, a voice from near the doorway startled us. “Did I hear my name?” Biggs peeked around the door, his eyes falling upon his distraught girlfriend, who immediately sprang to her feet. “What’s wrong, Babe?” He saw her teary, swollen eyes, and hurrying over to her, wrapped his arms around her. Sarah shook in his hold, divulging the news between staggered breaths.

  “But that’s great news!” he shouted and looked around the room. “Did you hear that? We’re having a baby!”

  “It’s still the very early stages,” Harper cautioned him from the attached bathroom as he washed his hands.

  But Biggs didn’t seem to hear Harper, or he didn’t care. Instead, he lifted Sarah up and swung her around like she’d just accepted his marriage proposal—only, her face was blotchy and distressed, while his was filled with immense joy.

  “You want to have a baby?” Sarah asked in between his laughing and hooting.

  “Of course I do…don’t you?” When Sarah didn’t say anything, Biggs’s enthusiasm deflated. I could feel his joy drain from him as he looked into her frightened eyes.

  “I’m not sure how to be a mom,” she said truthfully, watching his face for another heartbreaking reaction. “And, I can’t say we’re living in a baby-safe environment. We don’t even know where we’re going from one week to the next.” Her lip quivered. “We’re like…bums.”

  I stifled a laugh before it could escape my throat.

  Biggs’s eyes continued to watch Sarah closely—so did mine—as she deliberated aloud. “What if something happens during the pregnancy or birth or after? There’re no hospitals, no medicine…”

  He gently pulled her toward him, and she shuffled into his arms once more. Resting his chin on the top of her wild hair, he sighed. “Things may never get better, Babe, but I know that I don’t want to stop living after we’ve survived so much.” His eyes were suddenly alive again and his tone elated. “I could teach the baby everything about survival…at least everything that I know. We have Zoe and Harper and everyone to help us. We won’t be alone…” He searched her eyes for some sort of acceptance. “Sarah?”

  As she brushed away a stray tear, her face widened with an unexpected smile. “It sounds kinda nice when you say it like that.”

  Biggs gathered her up into his arms and carried her out of the room. “I’m gon-na be-a dad-dy! I’m gon-na be-a dad-dy!” His chant echoed throughout the cavernous house, and Sarah’s giggles faded as they disappeared down the hall.

  Distracted by the excitement, I hadn’t noticed Harper coming up beside me until I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

  “Now,” he said and paused. “What’s wrong? Are you pregnant too?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have to have sex to get pregnant,” I snapped, turning to face him.

  “Hey, I offered,” he teased, but I ignored him. “Well, then, what’s wrong with you?”

  I gave him a withering stare. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged, clearly annoyed.

  “Damn it, Harper. Why am I the last to know about this prophecy thing between you and Jake? What the hell’s going on?”

  Harper’s look of frustration disappeared, and his eyes clouded with guilt. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t I get any explanation? Biggs mentioned something about Jake being involved in my death like it’s common knowledge. Apparently you’ve all known about it for a while, and all I get is ‘Sorry’? How long did you guys know I was supposed to die?” I paced, trying to ignore the regretful look on his face.

  “First of all, we didn’t tell you because we didn’t know if it was true. Jake sure as hell didn’t…at least, not until he actually saw you for the first time. And even then he wasn’t sure if he should believe it. This is all so surreal; you know that as well as anyone. We didn’t know what to do. This is new for all of us, Zoe.” He finally took a breath. “I’m sorry you feel—”

  “Betrayed? Frustrated? Pissed?” I seethed.

  “Yeah, but this has been hard on all of us too. We didn’t know what to do,” he repeated. “There’s no manual.”

  “No shit,” I spat. I couldn’t decide what was bothering me the most—that I hadn’t known what was going on or that I felt betrayed.

  Suddenly, fear bubbled up, replacing the anger that had laced my words only moments before. “I could’ve tried to protect myself, H.”

  When Harper threw his arms up in exasperation, I walked toward the stairs. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and needed to get out of the room.

  “We didn’t know it was Clara, Zoe.” I could hear his footsteps on the landing behind me, and I paused at the top of the stairs. “We di
dn’t know if it would really happen. Jake was only told that you’d die and he’d be the cause, but how were we supposed to know if that was true? It’s not much to go off of so why tell you? So you can stew in fear for who knows how long?”

  Groaning, I sat down on the top step. Too many questions floated in my head, so I grabbed the most tangible one. “Who told him this…prophecy?”

  I looked back at Harper when he didn’t answer. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why don’t you talk to him about it? He knows the details,” he said quietly.

  Just then, Jake stepped into the entryway and looked up at us. Based on his somber expression, I could tell he’d overheard our conversation—but I wasn’t ready to talk to him about it.

  “I want to be alone,” I said quietly, standing. I passed Harper and went back into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  “We all decided to not tell you,” Harper called through the door. “It wasn’t just Jake’s decision.” Eventually, I heard him pad down the stairs, exchanging muffled words with Jake. I tried to ignore them and sat on the bed.

  My mind was a bottomless pit of questions. In an effort to avoid them, I thought about Sarah and her baby. I worried about her—while Sarah had been born into wealth and luxury, her child would be born into more primitive circumstances—no prenatal care, no epidurals, no pediatricians. We were still learning about how to survive in our new life—about the Abilities and about the Crazies. How can she possibly take care of a kid? There were too many uncertainties, and I certainly wasn’t convinced she’d make the best post-apocalyptic mother.

  “Well, I’d be pissed too!” Sarah shouted, her voice jarring me from my musings. She flung open my bedroom door; apparently privacy was a foreign concept to her. “There you are! Is everything okay? Riley told me what happened. It’s so creepy,” she said and sat down beside me. She rested her hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

  I didn’t want to talk about my situation, so I smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re doing okay.” I gestured to her tummy.

  “The more I think about it, the happier I get, especially around Riley. There’s a lot that needs to be worked out, but we have a while, right?” Her smile spread from ear to ear as she beckoned me to follow her downstairs. “I told Riley I wanted to wait for you before we started,” she said, but stopped and stood at the foot of the stairs. Turning to me, she began squealing and dancing in place, unable to control her excitement.

  “Was that the Running Man?” I laughed as she pulled me into a hug before scampering through the foyer.

  “It’s so strange—I mean, a lot of things are strange—but how much has changed in the last two hours is really weird,” she said as we paraded down a long hallway toward the kitchen. “I was so scared before. But Riley’s so happy that I can’t be upset or worried, no matter how hard I try. You should see him, Zoe. You think I’m crazy, but he hasn’t stopped celebrating since I told him. How can I be pessimistic about this whole thing when he’s so ecstatic?”

  As I continued following her, I couldn’t imagine having a baby at such a troubling time, but I smiled anyway. “You can’t.”

  She tugged me along, and we practically fell through the doorway into the lavish kitchen. To my surprise, about fifteen different bottles of liquor were lined up atop the green granite-topped island in the center of the room.

  “Holy…Where’d you get all the booze?” I asked.

  “My dad has an extensive liquor cabinet. It’s about as big as a wine cellar—normal people’s wine cellars, I mean. Anyway, I took out what I thought you could use. There’s more in there if this isn’t enough.”

  “I think this is plenty…but what do I need this for, exactly? I’m not planning on needing my stomach pumped at ten in the morning.”

  “I’ve volunteered you to be the bartender during today’s festivities. Duh!”

  I was instantly confused. “Newsflash, Sarah. Drinking is generally frowned upon in your current condition.”

  She swatted my arm. “Yeah, well, I’m not drinking, at least not alcohol, but that doesn’t mean no one else can. Besides, I know you can make me a fancy, nonalcoholic drink that will make me feel special, and I can pretend I’m partaking with you. Consider this a baby shower…Jake recovery celebration…thing. And we can’t celebrate without drinks; it’s absurd.” She dismissed the thought with a wave and gestured to the array of bottles before me like the Vanna White of distillates.

  I laughed, looking at the impressive collection. Deciding I could definitely use a drink—or three—I canvassed the assorted bottles, determining what type of potion I should concoct first.

  Tequila…hangover city.

  Rum…tempting.

  Vodka…I could definitely get creative.

  Knowing Sarah liked berries, I settled on vodka crans to start, using carbonated water to liven up her drink a bit, and contemplated what our next libation might be.

  Although I was still irked by my recent discovery, I was determined to play nice with everyone for Sarah’s sake. I wanted to enjoy a few drinks with my friends, even if my oblivion would only last for the day.

  Jake and Cooper showed up moments after I made the first round of drinks, and gratefully, Biggs and Harper enlisted Jake’s help with something outside, so there was no awkwardness or opportunity to talk.

  After a toast to the proud parents-to-be, we started prepping for an early, very large lunch—baked beans, venison freshly killed by Jake and Cooper, pasta salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, canned corn, and skillet cornbread. As we laughed and dirtied the kitchen, my mind periodically wandered to Jake, and I found myself pouring stronger drinks with each new round.

  Eventually, we all made our way out onto the back porch. Harper and Jake manned the grill, babysitting their drinks while I downed mine, hoping my variations of lemon drops and cosmos would keep my spirits up. Although the cocktails were a little girlie for my taste, I drank them happily, knowing Sarah was giddy over their virgin counterparts.

  We continued celebrating into the late afternoon. Sarah basked in the attention she received from Biggs, but no matter how much she played the happy mother-to-be around him, I knew she was still wary when he wasn’t there.

  Biggs, on the other hand, was too happy to be even a little bit pessimistic. I continued refilling his glass as his toasts became more and more frequent. Being the observant, well-practiced bartender I was, I noticed Jake had stopped drinking after a few shots of whiskey, and Harper was still nursing his second rum and Coke. Sanchez and the guys chatted, lounging in the wicker chairs that were scattered along the wraparound porch. They paused periodically, watching Sarah and me with amusement—I was intoxicated, but Sarah was just plain silly.

  “Can we have pink ones next?” she begged, and I conceded, giving in to her every whim. In turn, I became less coherent. I knew I’d need to slow down if I was going to make it to sunset.

  Putting a CD titled “Songs that Rock” into the stereo, I pressed play. I wasn’t shocked when I heard the high-pitched voices of a pubescent boy band emanating from the speakers.

  “Oh my God, Sarah, this is hilarious,” I barked, laughing. “I can’t believe this is one of your ‘songs that rock’.”

  “I love this song!” she exclaimed, the white-washed boards of the porch creaking under her feet as she danced around. I was gasping to catch my breath in between bouts of laughter, trying not to pee my pants as the songs continued—each more ridiculous than the last, just like Sarah’s dance moves.

  Eventually Biggs zeroed in on me, tugging on my arms and trying to pull me up from my perch on a chaise. “Come on, Zoe. You haven’t danced all day!”

  Resisting, I said, “Thanks, Biggs, but I’m not drunk enough to start dancing. Especially not to this. Sorry, buddy.”

  “Nope, no more excuses. Sarah told me you ladies used to go out dancing, so come on!” He continued pulling on me, and as my drink sloshed in my glass, I relented, if only to avoid a
spill.

  “Uncle, uncle!” I conceded, but Biggs kept at it. “Okay! One second!” Downing what remained of my drink, I set the glass aside and followed him over to where a completely sober Sarah flailed and sang.

  With each unsteady step, I realized how drunk I actually was—I swore that I was done drinking for the night. The sun was low, and the sky would be full of vibrant colors soon…I hoped I would make it that long. As we started dancing, I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling. Biggs threw me around, attempting his own rendition of swing—he was three sheets to the wind, so our movements may not have qualified as dancing, exactly.

  When I flashed a “please rescue me” glance at Harper, he smiled, getting out of his chair and sauntering over to us. “Mind if I step in?”

  Biggs shook his head and returned his attention to Sarah.

  As Harper gathered me into his arms, a classic rock song blared from the speakers, and his eyes lit up. “This was my sister’s favorite song,” he said.

  “You have a sister?” I’d sort of expected it. As much as he flirted, he was also protective and brotherly.

  Twirling me, he said, “I have three, actually…or I had three. All younger.” There was sadness in his voice I understood too well.

  “You’ve never mentioned them,” I thought aloud.

  “I know. It’s hard to talk about life before.”

  I nodded and rested my cheek on his shoulder.

  “You surprise me, Baby Girl,” Harper whispered.

  Lifting my head, I cocked it to the side and studied his face. “What d’you mean?”

  He chuckled. “I thought you used to be a bartender, but you aren’t holding your liquor as well as I’d expect.”

  Feeling defensive, I tensed. “We’ve been drinking for, like, five hours or something. I’m not a linebacker, you know.”

  “Calm down. I’m just saying…” He watched me curiously, and I scowled in return. “And it’s been more like seven hours,” he added.

  “Oy,” I muttered. “I rest my case.”

  Smirking, Harper said, “You’re funny,” before tightening his hold on me. Again, I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, feeling like I might float away as we swayed to the rhythm of the music.