by Coralee June
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I furiously wiped them away. I tried to pay attention to the words coming from the speaker's mouth, but I couldn’t help but stare at Maverick. I took in the gentle way his lips pursed while staring at me. His reddish-brown hair. The way his shoulders stood tall and proud, despite knowing that the world was resting upon them. Beside him, Cyler was fuming with anger. Was this my fault? Did they somehow learn that I was with Maverick last night? Did I somehow kill the man I loved?
“This man was gifted with learning from the emperor, and he betrayed our ruler, our people, and our empire.”
I made the decision right there to watch. I knew that seeing Maverick executed would be a sight that haunted me for years to come, but if I’d learned anything from the last five months, it’s that the only emotion worth clinging to is anger, everything else gets you hurt.
“This scientist abused the privilege of working closely with Cavil and consorted with an enemy,” the man said.
I couldn’t breathe as the man growled into the mic, making sure to emphasize his fury. “Huxley, do something,” I whispered under my breath. I didn’t know where he was, but certainly, there was something we could do. Wasn’t there anything we could do?
Jacob held my hand, but his grip was tight. I tore my eyes from Maverick for a brief moment to search the crowd for Huxley. Jacob was on full alert, side-eyeing the crowd, looking for a way out.
“Executioner!” the man yelled. The echoes of his voice bounced off the abandoned shacks in the Zone. “Bring forth our traitor!” I couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t move. I watched the stage as the executioner disappeared behind the tall, black curtains. Pulsing with fear and adrenaline, the rapid beat of my heart made me dizzy with helplessness and dread. When the curtain was pushed back, I watched as the executioner shoved forward a masked man that stumbled and fell to his knees.
I let out a hiss of hope, then immediately felt guilty. What kind of person had I become? Did it make me like him—like Cavil—to prioritize my own family over that of a stranger? They ripped the burlap hood from the man’s head, and I let out a small gasp once I saw who the unlucky man beneath the mask was.
“Allaire?” I whispered in disbelief. I hadn’t thought of him since fleeing Ethros. The scientist had helped us once. And now he was about to die—and I was thankful for it.
“The official scientist of Ethros was caught giving rejection cures to members of the Elite without giving them a fetter!” the speaker of this deadly rally screamed into his microphone, his words a toxic, garbled mess of syllables and spit. I focused on Maverick and Cyler.
“Allaire, do you accept your punishment?” he asked.
A small moan escaped Allaire’s chest as he crawled towards Cavil, kneeling at his feet.
The announcer bent over, then held the microphone to his mouth so we could all hear how he bowed to Cavil’s authority. His lips touched Cavil’s boots, and I forced myself to separate the man before us from the man that I met in Ethros. Although I didn’t know him well, it was still difficult to absorb what would happen next. I wondered who he risked giving the rejection cure to.
“I’m so sorry, Emperor Cavil. I’m unworthy. You control all life. You control the cure. I’m so sorry.” His sniffles and sobs were too much. I shut my eyes for the briefest moments. I tried to imagine myself back in Dormas. Back at the bakery or my bedroom. If I didn’t disassociate, I would do something stupid—like scream at Cavil and attack the stage.
“You’ve failed me. And now that I have a better scientist at my side, I am no longer in need of your services,” Cavil said.
He didn’t bother to stand from his seat, but he still addressed us. Crossing his legs, Cavil leaned back in his chair while lazily holding his microphone. “May this be a lesson to all of you. Do not try to sneak around my rules. I will end anyone or anything that gets in my way.”
Cavil then shifted to the side as Allaire continued to grovel and beg forgiveness. I watched as the announcer nodded at the executioner who made his way forward, carrying the electric ax I recognized from Lackley’s execution in Ethros.
“Do you have any final requests? I’m a good leader, I respect my people,” Cavil said in a bored tone.
Allaire went still for a moment before looking up at Cavil in what seemed like the first defiant moment since arriving on stage. “Let Dominique go,” he growled out, all groveling and submissiveness gone from his tone.
Cavil paused, seemingly impressed with Allaire’s bravery, until he leaned forward and spoke into the mic. “Dominique is my property. The moment I caught you sneaking off with her was the moment she became a prisoner in my home instead of a guest. I should have killed you then, and I’m happy to be killing you now.”
My breathing picked up, and the executioner raised his ax, lifting the glowing blade over his head as Allaire looked up at Cavil. Just before the ax slammed down, severing his head from his body, Allaire let one last ominous statement flow from his lips.
“Then everyone is going to die from X.”
As the blade came down, connecting at the base of his neck where it attached to his shoulders, I watched as the heated blade completely cauterized the slice, severing his head from his body. The cut was clean and smooth. His facial expressions twitched for about three seconds, eyes glassy yet still somewhat aware until the last of his life flickered from view.
But despite all the death and the terrible scene before me, I couldn’t help but focus on what Allaire said. “Then everyone is going to die from X…” What could Dominique possibly have to do with that? Not to mention, if Cavil had Dominique locked up in Ethros, getting to her would be harder than I anticipated. Poor Payne. My heart broke for him.
The crowd around me kept quiet. No one cheered or even seemed bothered by the scientist's death. I expected some reaction, but they just continued to stare on in numbed acceptance. Maverick stood, his face a stoic, stormy blend of anger and regret. Helping the executioner, he put the scientist’s head in a silk sack then exited the stage.
“Let this be a lesson to you all. He who crosses Cavil will die.”
Chapter Eighteen
I leaned into Jacob, and he didn't seem as tense as before. It was comforting to know that I wasn't the only one thankful it wasn't Maverick that fell at the end of the executioner's ax.
Before Cavil exited the stage, he looked over the crowd with beady eyes, and I let out a gasp when his eyes landed on me. Maybe it was my fear and paranoia, but despite the thousands of Walkers around us, I felt his knowing gaze singling me out. I held my breath and kept my chin held high until Cavil exited the stage. "He saw me," I whispered to Jacob.
The walk back to Madam B's manor was long. Eager to see Patrick, Kemper, and Huxley, I took large strides, ignoring the slow-moving Walkers looking about in a haze. At the door of the manor, Louis stood outside with a sanitizing wand. "Strip down and stand behind the curtain to spray yourself," he ordered in a bored tone as we walked up. “Even you, Ash--I mean Shade. You could have the virus on you even though you’re immune.” Sanitizing spray was only forty percent effective, but the Walkers that could afford it still used it. It was especially necessary for Walkers after being in a crowd. You never knew who was infected. You could never be too careful. In the distance, smoke clouds filled the sky. Most Walkers would be burning their clothes tonight. Cavil's required meeting exposed us all, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was intentional on his part.
Jacob rolled his eyes then reached up behind his shoulders and removed his shirt before grabbing the wand and moving behind the screen to spray off.
Huxley and Blythe walked up, and Louis gave them the same spiel. Blythe started stripping out in the open, giving Huxley and Louis an unobstructed view of her body. "Hurry up, Bly. Or I'll tell my Mom you're giving away peep shows for free," Louis said with a playful grin. Their eyes zinged back and forth, a playful passion passing between them like fire. I quirked my brow, momentarily curious about their relationship.
/>
Instead of responding with one of her usual retorts, Blythe scurried past, disappearing behind the curtain where Jacob was currently getting sanitized. She squealed when she saw Jacob, and he ran out from behind the curtain, clutching a towel around his waist and swatting the air behind him.
As the others arrived, I waited until all my men were accounted for. Once it was Patrick's turn to sanitize, I joined him behind the curtain. I helped him out of his shirt then casually turned around, allowing him to undress me.
His hands slid the fabric off my shoulders, and he groaned when he saw that I wasn't wearing a bra beneath my dress. "I know now isn't the time, but if Louis weren't right there listening to us, I would take full advantage of this situation."
I bit my bottom lip, almost feeling guilty that I was out here contemplating letting Patrick distract me with his touch after what we'd just witnessed. I turned around, hoping to remove the temptation, but he merely groaned once more when he saw my ass.
"No funny business, I'm in a hurry," Louis called to us, making me almost smile.
We both took a moment to sanitize ourselves, and I finally asked, "Are you okay?"
Patrick took a moment to respond. "Not really." His voice lacked all of its usual playfulness and the easygoing lull I'd come to expect from him. I could usually gauge the seriousness of a situation based upon Patrick's ability to push past the gloom and lighten the burden of everyone else.
"Am I wrong for feeling happy that it was Allaire and not Maverick? I know he was a friend...once...but I'm glad." I breathed a sigh of relief, finally letting go of the question about ethics that had been haunting me. I shut my eyes, trying to block the image of Allaire's head falling away from his body.
With gentle hands, Patrick spun me around and started spraying the hazy sanitizing mist over my chest; the cool spray was refreshing. Finally, Patrick replied. "I'm glad it was him. If that makes me a terrible person, so be it."
Once we were done, Patrick wrapped me up in a towel and returned the wand to Louis, who went inside. Hidden here, Patrick took his time enjoying my naked frame, and his cock hardened beneath my stare. He was beautiful...so damn beautiful that it hurt.
"Patrick," I began while shuffling closer. I leaned up to kiss his lips then wrinkled my nose when I tasted the sanitizing serum. He laughed, and the sound was like pure music, invigorating me and pushing past the pain of the day.
I stroked his hair while scraping my nails along his scalp. "You're so beautiful," I murmured.
"I'm beautiful, huh? Not manly, sexy, or intoxicatingly addictive?" he joked, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my laugh. Patrick was beautiful, in every sense of the word. It wasn't just his tall, muscular frame, blue eyes, and bright smile. It was the way he put everyone above him. It was in the way he calmed me in times of crises—and today was a significant time of crisis.
"You're all of that, but mostly, you're beautiful, Patrick," I said again. He cupped my face but paused before leaning in to kiss me, laughing when he remembered that we were both still covered in the gross-tasting sanitizing spray meant to prevent the spread of influenza X.
"Are you okay?" Patrick finally asked.
"No, but I will be," when I have all my men back. "This is a dangerous game we're playing, Patrick."
"I know, Ash. I know."
I was brushing my hair when Kemper found me. Wearing white after the execution felt wrong today. I didn't want to be Shade for a few hours; I wanted to be Ash. So I slipped into one of the casual outfits Jules wore. Tight pants, form-fitted through the ankle, the material clung to my legs. An off the shoulder grey top was loose on my thin frame, but still comfortable. "You ready for that surprise?" he asked, shuffling his feet and looking down at the ground. "I was going to take you tonight, but it looks like you're going back to Cavil's tower."
"Yeah," I said with a small half smile. I had spent the last hour worrying about going to Cavil's estate, so an afternoon with Kemper before going back into the lion's den was just what I needed.
He held his hand out for me to grab before saying, "Let's go," with a small smile. Guiding me outside and down the hall, he paused at the door to put a hat on my head. "Stick close to me, okay? We have a bit of a walk ahead of us," he said. I squeezed his hand, answering him with a peaceful resolution to not let go.
The air was light and smelled of smoke, and a light breeze lifted the sleek strands of my hair as we walked. The Zone was quiet. All the Walkers seemed to be hiding in their shacks after this morning's execution. Not that the Zone was ever buzzing with excitement, but today there seemed to be an added layer of fear.
Kemper guided me down the street and around the corner, towards the auction house. I kept my eyes ahead, taking in my surroundings and once again trying to imagine what my life would have been like had I grown up here. "How are you holding up?" Kemper asked.
I took a moment to consider my answer. "I don't even know anymore. I'm stuck between wanting to be this strong, ruthless woman with a vendetta, and being the scared little victim. I'm getting emotional whiplash from it all. I want everyone back and healthy. I want to go back to Dormas where our biggest obstacle was our feelings for one another."
I looked ahead and covered my mouth. In the street, a man with boils along his skin was passed out in the road. With blood oozing from his arms, he gasped and rolled over. It was obvious that he was in the last stage of the disease. The poor man would undoubtedly die soon, alone and abandoned in the street.
Kemper gently pulled me away from him and continued speaking. Strange how desensitized we'd become to X and death. "I think it's okay not to have one singular reaction to things, Ash. You're allowed to be both strong and scared. There’s no right or wrong way to feel, no checklist of emotions you’re supposed to work through. You’re doing the best you can, and I admire you for it."
I nodded my head. I knew this, didn't I? I knew that I was capable of many emotions and reactions. I knew that part of growing meant riding each wave of the human experience. Kemper's words hit me harder than most. He was gradually learning that perfection wasn't real. By accepting me, he was accepting the beauty in the mess.
"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject of the conversation. Kemper was always good at providing me with a semblance of normalcy during the chaos.
"What, you can't handle a surprise?" he asked with a chuckle. There was a certain bounce to his step, despite the grim day and setting. We kept walking, and between two buildings was an alley. He gripped my wrist and pulled me towards the shadows, planting a kiss on my lips and pushing me against the wall.
"I'm sorry," he whispered over my lips like a cool secret meant only for me, and I shivered at the sound of his husky voice. "I promise to bring you to the surprise, but first I have to do this."
Kemper's kisses had a healing quality about them that I craved. He took great care of my lips, my tongue, and my soul. He kissed me like he was thankful I came into his life, and as we devoured one another, I was completely, utterly lost. He could have taken me right here, against the wall in this alley.
He pulled me off the wall and wrapped his arms around my back, snaking his fingers up beneath my shirt and gliding across my hot skin. I wondered if it would always feel like this. I’d become so starved for affection in the Stonewell Manor that I burned for more. The last five months I’d turned off my need for physical contact, but once I opened the gates to my heart once more, the craving was so intense that each little kiss, each touch, each caress was like a drug. He peppered kisses along my jaw, traveling to my neck, and I looked up at the sky as clouds passed overhead. He continued to drift lower, licking and sucking on my skin right above my plush right breast. I sighed. "Is this, uh, the surprise?" I asked. My voice sounded throaty and laced with lust.
"I didn't plan on it, but now I can't seem to stop," he said with a groan. I leaned back a little more, and Kemper placed his ear against my chest, listening to the thudding of my heart and tapping against m
y wrist with his hand in time to my pulse.
"I love you, Ash," he whispered.
My vision went blurry from unshed tears. "I love you too, Kemp. We keep doing this, you know? You always seem to find shadowed alleys for us to kiss in," I said with a laugh. Kissing Kemper on the streets of Ethros was one of the few good memories I had of our time there.
Kemper closed his eyes, squinting them shut in embarrassment. I knew he was mentally chastising himself. “Not that I’m complaining,” I quickly added, hoping to stop whatever spiral of self-deprecation he was in.
Kemper looked at me like he wanted to toss me over his shoulder and carry me back to the manor—or back to Dormas—but once again, he made even the dirty streets of the Zone feel like paradise. “I swear to you,” he began. “The next time we kiss like this, it’ll be in my bed, and I won’t stop. Not until you come apart while I’m inside of you. And then we’ll do it again, and again, and again,” he growled out.
We continued down the street, our breathing heavy from the brisk walk and our kisses. We didn't stop until we arrived at a shack on the outskirts of the Zone. "Ash," Kemper began with a nervous whistle. "Maybe I shouldn't have...fuck..."
Kemper looked down at the ground then back at me. I took in our surroundings, taking special notice of the shack in front of us, with it's chipped blue door and rusted metal roof. "Where are we, Kemper?" I asked.
He let out a shaky breath. "When I learned the database from Louis, I found out where your childhood home was. They burned it down when your parents died..." he said, and I frowned. "But there was still something here...in the concrete," he quickly added.
Kemper leaned forward, pulling me down with him to stare at the concrete sidewalk. There, imprinted in the street, were three sets of handprints with names traced above them:
Claire
Daniel
Ashleigh.
