The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “What about now? We know about you—what you’ve done—and we’re willing to take the risk. You don’t have to stay with him, you don’t have to be a part of it anymore…we can try to salvage our family,” I said, my vision beginning to blur.

  “I’m sorry, Zoe, but I can’t leave. Peter needs me and I—”

  “You would stay with them, the General and his son, and forget about us?”

  She seemed to deflate. “I could never forget about you and your brother,” she said. Her voice was thin and her eyes gleamed.

  “Then come back…” I hated the desperation in my voice, but I couldn’t help it.

  She reached out for me, her warm hand gently clasping my shoulder. “It’s not so easy, Zoe, you have to understand.”

  “Then tell me. Why? Why can’t you leave Peter? Leave the General? Why didn’t you come with me when you saved me from Clara? Do you love your new life, your new family, so much? Do you—”

  “He’s sick, Zoe.”

  My mouth was open, but there were no words.

  “Peter needs to stay at the Colony, and I won’t leave him. Please, don’t ask me to abandon another one of my children, to leave him in Gregory’s hands.” She shook her head, a tear escaping down her cheek, and she swiftly brushed it away. “I won’t lose another child because of my past decisions.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry.” This time her tone was a bit colder.

  I nodded. Not in understanding, but because I guess I never really thought she’d come back to us. Otherwise she would’ve already found a way.

  “Bring him with you,” I blurted. “We’ll figure things out…you’re all we have left. I don’t—”

  “He has to stay in the Colony, Zoe. There are things he needs, things I couldn’t give him if we were anywhere else.”

  I struggled to swallow the lump thickening in my throat. I tried to feel sympathy for Peter, the half-brother I’d never met, but he was nothing to me. The knowledge that my mom was sitting in front of me and refusing to rejoin what remained of our family was too painful to ignore. “Now that you have Peter”—I wrung my hands in my lap—“do you still regret leaving us?” Despite the drumming of my heart and the sound of my own voice echoing in my ears, all I could focus on was her answer.

  Her brow furrowed. “Of course I do. I wish things had been different—that I could’ve watched you and Jason grow up, that I could’ve been a part of your lives. But I don’t regret leaving to save you. How could I?”

  Trying to ignore the burning ache in my chest, I latched onto my resentment. “Why did you even have kids?” I bit out. “How could you when you knew you’d never be safe? Now, everyone’s dead or crazy, and we’re worried about Monitors and the General finding us.” My voice ricocheted in the stillness of her dream.

  Jason and Dad were suddenly gone, and it was just my mom and me sitting together in a setting she seemed so out of place in, my future juxtaposed with my past.

  “I understand that you’re angry,” she said softly. “I don’t blame you.”

  Shaking my head, a whimsical thought left my lips. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just stayed.”

  “You all would be dead if I had stayed. I had to go.” I could hear her frustration, but I ignored it.

  I reminded her of her own words. “You told Dani that Herodson would’ve found someone else to create the Virus even if you hadn’t.” I stood, unable to sit so close to her any longer.

  “There are always what-ifs and maybes. I can’t go back and change my decisions. Knowing you’re alive means more—”

  “Alive? Barely,” I spat. “Everything changed the day you left, can’t you see that?” Resentment made it difficult to speak. “Dad, Jason, me…we weren’t a family, not really. Dad was never around, and Jason and I never had a real relationship. All I had was Dani. While you…” I could barely say the words. “You started a new family…with him.”

  “Please understand that I’m sorry, God am I sorry, for all the pain I’ve caused you and your brother…”

  “But?”

  “But this is my life now, and I have to do what I can to make things right.”

  “Just not right with us,” I whispered.

  Her eyes shimmered, and her lips tensed as she swallowed. After a brief moment, she descended the steps and stopped in front of me. Hesitantly, she reached for my face. Her eyebrows lifted the barest amount as she wiped a tear from my cheek.

  I closed my eyes at the feeling of her touch; it was warm and comforting despite my mounting anger, and knowing it was the last time I’d ever see her, I burned the sensation into my memory.

  “Zoe, I’m so…” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry I—”

  “Please don’t,” I said and slowly turned away from her before I completely lost control of myself.

  She made no move to stop me, and after I whispered Gabe’s name, my mom and the disturbing replica of my home disappeared.

  24

  DANI

  MAY 23, 1AE

  Bodega Bay, California

  It was the morning of the final day of our journey—finally—and I was holding open the stuff sack for our tent, waiting for Jason to shove the rolled-up mass of dark green nylon into it. Every morning, it seemed to be a personal goal of his to roll up the tent even tighter, to make it fill an even smaller space. I smiled.

  “Watch this,” Jason said with a smirk. He slipped the rolled-up tent into the stuff sack like the interior was lined with butter.

  I stifled my grin while I pulled the sack’s drawstring to close it tightly. “Wow…that’s a real talent you’ve got there.” I tossed the tent on the ground with our packs, saddlebags, and the other stuff sacks containing our sleeping gear. “You should start a tent-rolling league.”

  Jason crossed his arms and watched me as I pulled my hair free of its hair tie and bent over to smooth the wild curls back into a more secure ponytail.

  I straightened and stared back at him. “What? I’m absolutely, completely serious,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “You should totally do that.” My eyes widened, like I’d had a lightbulb moment. “It could be a game in the Post-Apocalyptic Olympics!”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth curving up just enough to reveal the hint of a dimple. “You’re hilarious,” he said dryly and started toward me. He stopped with the toes of his boots almost touching mine, and simply stared down at me. “So damn funny…” His gaze flicked down to my lips, then returned to my eyes.

  I licked my lips, feeling the charge of desire building between us, electric and pulsing.

  Annie giggled and ran between us, causing Jason to take a step backward. He broke eye contact with me, looking around camp before bending over to pick up our camping gear. Briefly, his eyes met mine, still burning with unfulfilled desire and so much damn promise, before he started toward the barn where we’d stored the wagon, cart, and tack for the night.

  “We’re sure Bodega Bay’s clear?” he asked over his shoulder. “Absolutely sure?”

  Taking a deep, calming breath, I told my libido to shut the hell up and grabbed both sets of saddlebags, tossing one over my shoulder. I had to jog to catch up with Jason.

  “Yeah…or as sure as we can be.” Last night, Gabe and Zoe had met with some of the members of the Town Council, Bodega Bay’s ruling body, alerting them of our imminent arrival plans and double-checking how safe the area had been over the last few weeks. Around our breakfast campfire, they’d relayed what the members of the Town Council told them: they’d been doing daily sweeps of the area in and around the town, and they hadn’t seen any “Lost Ones”—the local survivors’ term for what we called “Crazies”—for over a month.

  Jason shot me a sideways glance. “And there’s still no contradictory reports from any of your scouts?”

  I shook my head. I’d confirmed the information Zoe and Gabe had passed on with the animals in the area. My furred and feathered informants hadn’t caught a whiff of any off-smelling two-legs for
weeks. Beyond that, Ky and Zoe would be doing their usual mental sweep of the area once we were close enough, and that would hopefully provide double confirmation. Besides, if we couldn’t trust the survivors of our own hometown, who could we trust?

  We reached the barn, and Jason propped the heavy wooden door open, letting me enter before he did. He placed the stuff sacks in their usual place in the chuck wagon, his expression thoughtful.

  I watched him for a moment before setting our saddlebags on top of our respective saddles. When I turned to face him again, hands resting on my hips, I found him staring deeper into the barn, his eyebrows drawn together. Worry was written on his face, plain as day; he never allowed himself to be so expressive when the others were around.

  “What is it?”

  He looked at me and blinked, his usual guarded mask sliding back in place. “What if we lead him there?”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Herodson?” I frowned. “I don’t think we will, or at least, I don’t think he’ll follow us.”

  “You can’t know for sure.”

  Shaking my head, I exhaled heavily and moved to stand in front of Jason. I reached for his hands and wove our fingers together. “No. I can’t know for sure.” And if Becca can, she’s not saying anything about it. I peered up at him. “I can’t know anything for sure, except that I love you, and I want to find a place where we can settle down and be together”—I laughed softly—“with our crazy new family of superhuman freaks and just live.” I sighed. “I’m tired, Jason. We can’t run forever, and we can’t pretend that everyone else’s safety is our responsibility, because it’s not. The only people we’re responsible for are ourselves.”

  Jason’s gaze softened. “And Annie…”

  I smiled. “And Annie.”

  ~~~~~

  “Have you seen Jason?” I asked first Mase and Camille, who were moseying around the Bodega Bay Riders’ Ranch collecting firewood; then Carlos, who was setting up a stall in the stable to be a comfortable living-space-slash-prison-cell for his sister while Vanessa remained locked in the neighboring stall, chatting nonstop with nobody; then Chris and Harper, who were inside the ranch house, cleaning up the gory remnants of the attack that had spurred our early departure months ago so it was at least partially habitable for the few days we would be camping there; then Gabe and Sanchez, who were unloading gear from the cart and wagon.

  But nobody had seen Jason for nearly a half hour, not since we’d arrived at the ranch.

  I found Zoe just outside the stable’s pasture door, rubbing down the last of the horses with Sam. Her hair was up in a short ponytail, and she was wearing her usual dark, fitted tank top, jeans, and combat boots combo, making her appear both harder and more laid-back than she’d been the last few years.

  The weeks since leaving Tahoe had really been the only time we’d had together since the outbreak, and I was enjoying finding out all kinds of new things about my best friend. She was stronger, both physically and emotionally—instead of emerging shattered from a situation that would have broken most people, she’d come out more decisive, willful, and sure of herself—and she was more capable and confident than the Zoe I remembered, which made me smile. Art gallery and bartender Zoe seemed like a washed-out reflection of the vibrant, vivacious woman standing in front of me.

  I leaned one shoulder against the metal door frame. “Have you seen your brother?”

  Zoe’s face scrunched up, making her look constipated, before she turned away from me to continue brushing Shadow. I knew that face; it meant she was hiding something from me.

  “Zo…” Squinting, I visually scanned the part of the pasture that I could see while I telepathically scanned the rest of the pastureland around the ranch for Jason’s chestnut gelding. When I didn’t feel the unnamed horse’s mind anywhere, I expanded my search. Only then did I find him—in town, heading straight for our home street. “He’s going home? Why?” And why isn’t Zo going with him?

  “I don’t know?” Without looking at me, Zoe gestured inside the stable, indicating the stall immediately to the left of the doorway; it was the same stall that Wings had favored during our several-week stay on the ranch during the winter. “Just go after him already.” Zoe glanced at me over her shoulder, smirking. “You know that’s what you’re going to do anyway, and I’m not crazy enough to try to stop you, so…”

  Nodding, I strode to the stall doorway, where Wings stood with her head stuffed in a bucket that I could only assume contained oats or some other tasty snack. She lifted her head just enough to look me in the eye, murmured “Yum” in my mind, and returned to eagerly stuffing her face.

  I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her well-deserved rest by re-saddling her and asking her to carry me the mile or so between the ranch and Jason’s house. If I asked her, she would do it, but that didn’t make it right.

  “Enjoy, Pretty Girl,” I told her before leaving her to munch on her oats in peace.

  When I turned back to Zoe, I found her cinching Shadow’s saddle around his onyx belly.

  “Take him,” she said. “It was a short day, anyway, and he still seems a little antsy.”

  I frowned, feeling bad about delaying Shadow’s relaxation time, but after receiving his reassurance as well as Zoe’s that he would be okay with another short trip, I nodded. “Thanks, Zo.”

  She flashed me a grin that looked just a tiny bit forced. “Any time.”

  Several minutes later, I was riding Shadow down the gravel driveway at a walk. I left the stable through the door leading to the pasture. “Jack,” I said to my German shepherd. “I need you.”

  “With Pup,” he said, showing me an image of Annie, flanked by two dogs—Jack and Cooper—while she carried on an intense telepathic conversation with a mama loon, who was floating in the pond behind the ranch house.

  I briefly looped myself into their conversation, hearing the bird express her concerns about how much lower her pond was this spring than it had been the previous year.

  “I’m going to be gone for an hour or two,” I told Annie, interrupting her interspecies conversation. “Stay with Cooper…and don’t go any further from the house.”

  Annie responded with the telepathic equivalent of a pout.

  “I mean it,” I said, a warning in my mental voice.

  “Okay,” she agreed without any more fuss. I wasn’t sure if she was so easy to manage because her mind was more attuned to a pack structure like the mind of a wolf because of how fully she’d embraced drifting, because she’d lived among dogs and wolves for months, or because she was simply an easygoing kid, but I wasn’t about to complain.

  I let her know that I was pleased, then put our connection on the back burner, so I could speak only to Jack. “Leave Annie with Cooper and come find me.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  About ten minutes later, I was swaying atop Shadow as he lazily clip-clopped down my street, the usual coastal fog hindering my view of the bay on the left, of the road up ahead, of the houses on the right…of pretty much everything.

  I’d been paying attention to the location of Jason’s horse while I rode. He’d been stopped several hundred yards up ahead, presumably at Jason’s house, but suddenly started moving further away.

  “That’s odd,” I mumbled. Is Jason going to my house?

  The only other logical explanation I could come up with was that he was heading out to the new town center, the marina near the end of the peninsula beyond our houses, to let the Town Council know we’d arrived. I shook my head. The Council already knew we were arriving today, and had given us permission to stay at the ranch until we met with them the following day.

  Which brought me back to the deduction that he was going to my house and gave rise to a hoard of questions, the first among them being—Why?

  Shadow, Jack, and I continued on through the fog, following Jason’s horse. When I sensed him stop moving again, I was certain about Jason’s destination.

  The shape of Jason’s horse forme
d in the fog as we approached my house. He was standing sentry in the front yard, his reins looped around the deck’s bannister. I dismounted a few yards away and spent several seconds attempting to puzzle out what Jason was doing at my house. And still, I came up with nothing…zip…nada.

  I glanced down at Jack, who was sitting patiently beside me. “I’m going in. Can you stay out here and keep an eye on things with Shadow and Nameless?” The poor horse’s moniker, or lack thereof, had become well known among the other animals, amusing them to no end.

  Jack barked as he stood and started wagging his tail.

  “Let me know if you sense danger.”

  He barked his affirmative.

  I made my way to the deck stairs, pausing to pick a sprig of lavender from one of the bushes bordering the railing before making my way up the wooden steps. I tried the doorknob but found it locked and quickly hurried back down the stairs and around to the back of the house, where Grams kept the spare key hidden in a flowerpot on the back deck.

  When the sole of my boot touched the first stair, the back door creaked open, and I stared up at it. The doorway was empty.

  “Jason?” I ascended the stairs and crossed the deck to the open door, the wooden boards groaning as I took each step. I paused in the doorway, peering around the bright, cheery—and empty—kitchen and adjoining dining room. There was no sign of Jason, other than the door being opened…which had to be him, right?

  I stepped over the threshold, feeling a little creeped out. The quietness was eerie, as was Jason’s apparent absence, and not even the comforting combination of cinnamon, chamomile, wax, and pine scents could ease my burst of anxiety.

  “Jason?” I repeated, a little louder. “Where are—”

  “Upstairs, Red,” he called, his voice seeming to float down the stairs and echo in the hallway leading to the back of the house.

  I jumped. Pressing my hand to my chest in a vain effort to still my now-racing heart, I hurried through the kitchen and down the hall, my footsteps sounding too loud on the linoleum and hardwood. I made my way up the carpeted stairway, taking the first few steps two at a time but slowing as I neared the top.