Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I smiled up at him. “I know, and I don’t, I just…” I had no idea what I was trying to say to him. “Things aren’t complicated with him.”

  I couldn’t help but feel the slight sting my words caused Jake, but I had to tell him the truth, if for no other reason than to remind us both that whatever had been between us before was gone now. It was going to be a lot of hard work to get back a semblance of what we once had—hard work I wasn’t willing to turn my nose up at, but hard work I also wasn’t sure either of us was ready for.

  But it didn’t mean we couldn’t try.

  8

  DANI

  MARCH 29, 1AE

  Cahone, Colorado

  It was late afternoon, and I was sitting beside our burgeoning campfire, staring into the flames and generally despising myself while I built the fire up for Sarah. I prodded the burning logs with a stick to rearrange them before adding a few more hunks of freshly gathered firewood.

  I was becoming a horrible person, possibly the worst person I’d ever met. Okay, maybe not the worst person—I was no Mandy, no General Herodson, no Clara, no Dr. Wesley—but lately, I’d felt like I was on my way. I certainly wasn’t a good person, not anymore. I was a horrible friend, a deceiving girlfriend, and a child-killer. But of my mounting flaws, it was all of the lying that had started to erode my soul.

  I hadn’t been lying because I enjoyed the taste of deceit on my tongue, or because I felt a thrill hurting others; I’d been lying to protect the people I loved…to protect myself. But the problem with telling so many lies was this: it’s so easy for one little lie to spawn a dozen more, which in turn birth their own litters of little lies. And when the first lie, lie zero, is a whopper, the horde of untruths and not-saids grows much, much faster. My core lie was as big as they get.

  I was lying to Jason about his mom, Dr. Wesley. After Camille’s revelation, I’d made a promise to myself to never tell him that she was alive and relatively well—considering—and that she was living in the Colony, loving companion to the man who’d orchestrated the destruction of human civilization. I would never tell him that I knew why she left him, Zoe, and their dad over twenty years ago, that General Herodson had threatened to kill her children if she didn’t give him everything he wanted, do every single thing he requested of her, and that she’d come to love her captor. I would never tell him that she was the person who created the virus that killed almost everyone, including their dad.

  And I would never show him the letter she’d written, the one addressed to him and Zoe that supposedly explained everything; it was stuffed in the bottom of my left saddlebag in the manila envelope with the rest of the garbage she’d given to Zoe, directly beneath my emergency stash of tampons. Jason would never look there.

  Maybe if that was the only lie—or set of lies—I was maintaining, I would’ve been able to deal with the guilt. But there were the other lies, ones that had nothing to do with Dr. Wesley. They, too, were lies of omission. I’d yet to tell Jason that I kissed two men while I was in the Colony, one to steal his gun and keys, and one—Gabe—simply because I wanted to. For some reason, “the General took control of my mind and made me do it,” sounded like the lamest possible excuse, regardless of it being the absolute truth. There was definitely a reason I was avoiding Gabe. Awkward…

  On the other side of the fire, Sarah was sitting at the folding table, staying warm while she chopped vegetables for the rabbit stew that was going to be tonight’s fresh offering.

  I poked the burning logs again, simply for the sake of stabbing something with the stick. Letting out a heavy breath, I looked around camp.

  The tents were set up in a rough ring around the fire, the carts and wagon in a half-circle on one side, blocking some of the dusty wind, and the horses munching on whatever roughage they could find in the sparse fields of wild grasses on either side of the tiny creek we’d plopped down beside. Everyone was busy—down in the creek’s ravine washing clothes or dishes, filtering safe drinking water, gathering firewood, or hunting and foraging to bulk up our fast-depleting food supply.

  “I still can’t get over the fact that we have a covered wagon—a legitimate covered wagon,” Sarah said. “I feel like a pioneer woman every time I climb up onto the thing!” She shook her head, her curly brown ponytail bobbing.

  Biggs strolled over to the campfire, carrying a fresh load of firewood. “Hey, babe!” He quickened his step as he neared, stopping by Sarah’s prep table to drop a quick kiss on her cheek on his way to the dwindling pile of sticks and branches beside the fire. He offered me a nod as he set down his burden, then returned to Sarah. His hand darted out, and he snagged a carrot nugget the size of my thumb off of Sarah’s chopping board.

  “Hey! You thief!” Sarah laughed, making a shooing motion.

  Chuckling while he crunched, Biggs moved around the table to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder and his palms on her belly. “How’s the little guy today?”

  “She is fine. Kicking a bit more, but Harper said that was normal…or as normal as we can say…” Doubt weaved through Sarah’s words, despite what I figured was a valiant effort to remain positive.

  Biggs kissed her neck, then started murmuring reassurances against her skin.

  I felt like a voyeur, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them, from such a genuine display of affection…of love. A yearning ache sprouted in my chest, sending out tendrils that spread envy and loneliness throughout my body. Before I’d been abducted by the Colony, Jason had shown just as much affection toward me as these parents-to-be, but after…with each passing day, I could feel him drift further away from me. Soon, I’d be just another member of the group to him. Just another survivor.

  “Hey,” someone whispered near my ear, and I started. I felt hands on my shoulders and looked back to find Ky studying me, his eyes pinched with concern and possibly a little bit of pain. “It’s just me,” he said as he crouched beside me, partially blocking my view of the oblivious, adorable couple. “Thought you heard me coming.”

  I met his eyes, then looked into the flames and shook my head. “Guess I zoned out.”

  There was a long stretch of silence between us. Eventually, Ky took a deep breath. “You feel like shit.”

  I snorted quietly and scrubbed my good hand over my face before meeting his eyes again. “Listen, Ky—I’m a mess…I know it, and I’m sorry, I really am, and I know it’s not easy for you when I’m all crazy like this, and I really appreciate whatever insightful words you’re planning on sharing,” I said in a rush. “But this isn’t one of those times when talking about my feelings is going to make all the bad ones disappear, so…”

  He turned his face to the fire, staring into the flames like they might hold some hidden secret. “I like you, D. I like you a lot, you know that.” He shot me a sideways glance, then returned to staring into the crackling flames. “But if you don’t figure out a way to deal with whatever’s eating at you, and I mean this in the least dicky way possible, I’m not going to be able to be around you at all.”

  I exhaled heavily. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised.

  “You’re my friend, D, and in case you haven’t noticed, those are”—he squinted—“a little hard to come by these days. I don’t want to cut you out of my life…”

  “I—I—” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Ky.” Laughing bitterly, I sent out a halfhearted wish for the universe to send someone like Clara my way, someone who could erase certain unwanted memories and droplets of corrosive knowledge from my mind.

  Ky flashed a weak version of his usual mischievous grin. “And now for those insightful words you mentioned…” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his hands out to the flames. “Sometimes the people who seem the strongest, who seem the most in control of their shit…sometimes they have to be that way on the outside because what’s inside them is so wild, so extreme, so far beyond too much, that if it was ever unleashed, they’d never be in contro
l again.”

  I swallowed hard, cleared my throat, and poked the burning logs…again. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Jason…”

  Ky nodded.

  “So what are you saying? That Jason’s dealing with too much on the inside, and that’s making him push everyone away?”

  “He’s not pushing everyone away.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Right. Just me. Awesome…” A chilling thought gave rise to a wash of goose bumps. Did that mean that Jason knew about the lies? Had Zoe told him? Or had Mase or Camille let it slip?

  Ky lifted one shoulder, offering me a small smile.

  “How do you know any of this? Or…have you felt something from him?”

  Ky laughed dryly. “Hell no. He keeps me cut off from feeling his shit permanently. And thank God, ’cause I have a feeling that whatever’s going on inside him right now…well, let’s just say I wouldn’t enjoy having a front-row seat on that joyride. I’ve got enough to deal with from you, Zoe, and Jake…not to mention everyone else.”

  This time when he looked at me, his dark brown eyes were so focused and intense that I held my breath. “But I’ve been friends with Jason for over a decade, and I know him well enough to tell when he’s working through something. And right now, he’s working through something big, and I know it has to do with you, because you’re the only woman—the only person—who’s ever gotten so deep under his skin.”

  He clapped a hand on my knee. “So, since the only thing that ever seems to unplug your emotionally constipated relationship is to talk things out and then run off and do whatever it is you crazy kids do, I’d suggest you sit down for a chat as soon as possible. If not for my sake, at least fix this for Zoe, because she doesn’t seem to be able to block anything, and you know the poor girl’s got to be drowning under the weight of all these crazy emotions, hers included.”

  All I could do for five breaths, ten breaths, was stare at Ky. He was right. He was so very, very right. Saying nothing, I looked across the fire at the table where Sarah had been sitting, but both she and Biggs were gone.

  Ky gave my knee a squeeze before standing. “Look…I saw him and Sanchez on the other side of the carts, inventorying ammo or some shit like that. You should take the evening off, talk to him, fix whatever’s wrong, or don’t fix it, I don’t care…just do something, ’cause this headache is killing me.”

  Internally, I resisted, and that made me realize how big of a baby I was being. Ky was right; Jason and I needed to talk. And my resistance to do just that made me reevaluate some of my assumptions about what was happening to our relationship. Maybe Jason wasn’t the only one pulling away, building walls; maybe I was doing it, too. Maybe it was the secrets…leeching the vitality out of our relationship. Maybe Jason could feel the strain just as much as I could. Maybe he thought my feelings had changed, just like I thought his had. So many maybes…

  There was only one way to know for sure, only one way to fix things. I stood, patted Ky’s arm, and said, “Thanks…really.” Then I started across camp toward the carts.

  Jason and Sanchez weren’t inventorying ammo. They weren’t doing anything, so far as I could tell. They were sitting on a fallen log, apparently deep in conversation. Sanchez had one of her legs pulled up and her chin popped on her knee, facing Jason, while he had his elbow planted on his thigh and was resting the side of his face in his hand.

  I paused, between the front of the wagon and the back of one of the carts, suddenly not so sure of myself. Maybe all of my maybes had been worthless. Maybe we were already done, and he was moving on. Maybe I was the most pathetic woman in the world.

  Sanchez noticed me first, then looked at Jason and nodded in my direction. When Jason straightened, when his eyes met mine, I had a total deer-in-the-headlights moment. My heart pounded, and blood whooshed in my ears with each beat. I couldn’t blink.

  “I should get back to…that thing,” Sanchez said as she stood. She offered me a tight-lipped smile and strode off toward the creek.

  Jason stared at me across the dozen or so yards separating us. For several seconds, that was all he did. Stare. Watch. Assess. Until, placing his hands on his knees, he stood.

  I gulped. I hadn’t been so ridiculously anxious—so uncomfortably aware of my own awkwardness—around him since I’d been in middle school. Taking a deep breath, I took a step toward him, then another. And another. I forced myself to keep my eyes on his face, to keep moving.

  Jason studied me as I approached, his expression giving no indication of his thoughts or mood, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Ky had been right. Was Jason so closed off, so controlled, because he felt too much and was, for whatever reason, afraid of the intensity of his own emotions?

  I stopped a few feet in front of Jason. The skin around his eyes tightened the barest amount.

  After a fortifying deep breath, I raised my hand, reaching out to brush my fingertips over the exposed skin of his forearm. I stopped short of touching him. When was the last time we even touched? I thought it might have been the previous afternoon, when my Ability flared back to life, and my eyebrows drew together. That we’d gone a whole day without physical contact seemed impossible.

  But I was fairly certain it was true. We hadn’t been intimate in weeks—not with my kidnapping, resulting in a broken arm and many bruises, and the still-healing gash crossing Jason’s face from hairline to jaw—and though we’d been sleeping near each other in our tent, our sleeping bags remained separated. I’d been telling myself it was because he feared hurting me while we slept. Now I suspected that was only part of the reason for the physical restraint.

  I searched the sapphire depths of his eyes. “Can we talk? Somewhere more private.” Another deep breath. “I—there’s some stuff you need to know.”

  The tightness around his eyes increased, but he nodded. He held out an arm, indicating that I should lead the way.

  Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my good hand into a fist and turned to head toward the tiny creek. There was a sharp bend a short ways downstream, and the rocky walls of the shallow ravine and the scrubby pines lining it would provide us at least a semblance of privacy. I had no way to gauge how Jason would react to what I was about to tell him, but I wanted to give him the opportunity to process away from the others.

  Silence was our only companion as we descended one of a myriad of paths leading down to the creek. The creek itself was only several feet wide and easy enough to cross. By the time we were hidden from our camp, from our companions, by the ravine wall, I was a ball of anxiety; my hand was shaking, my heart was beating a fast staccato rhythm against the inside of my rib cage, and I didn’t feel like I could draw in enough breath.

  I wiped my suddenly damp palm on my jeans and stopped in front of a knee-high rock. Turning to face Jason, I pointed to the rock. “Sit, please.”

  Jason did so silently, his eyes never leaving me. His gaze was a tangible thing, burning into my flesh, flaying me open, and laying out my fetid soul for the whole universe to witness…to judge.

  I pulled my braid over my shoulder and wrapped my hand around its end, giving a gentle tug. I can do this. I can do this. I have to do this! My stomach twisted, knotted, lurched, and I started pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Dani.” Just that single word, my name on Jason’s lips, halted me mid-step.

  I opened my mouth, swallowed, pressed my lips together. There was so much I hadn’t told him about my time in the Colony, so much I hadn’t told anyone, that it seemed an impossible task to pick a place to start. But I had to tell him something. I had to let him know that I wanted to fix us.

  I met your mom, she’s in the Colony, and she created the Virus.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “When I was at the Colony, you—do you remember telling me to do whatever it took to survive?” I stared at the rough rock wall behind Jason, just over his shoulder, too chickenshit to actually look at him.

  “Yes.” His voice was carefully controlled.


  Another deep breath. “Because of the issues they’ve been having with pregnancies making it to full term, one of the regular commands the General gives newcomers is to actively attempt to procreate…” My voice sounded hollow, dead. “…with pretty much anyone.”

  Jason’s jaw clenched, and it remained that way.

  “The men are encouraged to approach any woman they desire, and the women are discouraged from denying them.” A disgusted laugh caught in my throat. “God, he’s such a chauvinistic bastard—he doesn’t even give that choice to the women. It’s just, ‘If someone wants you to spread your legs, spread ’em.’”

  “Dani…did someone—”

  I shook my head once, sharply, and whatever Jason saw in my eyes silenced him. “The night I met Mase and Camille, I was searching the warehouses, doing my first round of scouting out their supplies. I—there was a soldier, a yellow-band, who I may have antagonized just a bit when I first arrived.” My hand clutched the side of my jeans. “He propositioned me, I said no, and when he found me wandering around the warehouses that day, no longer mind-controlled—though he didn’t know that—he decided to take advantage of those particular commands.

  “He forced me into one of the warehouses and—” I looked down at my hand; my nails were digging into my thigh painfully. I embraced the sensation, drawing strength from it. “He was big and armed, and I wasn’t.” I raised my gaze to meet Jason’s; his eyes were bottomless pools of midnight set in granite. “I stopped fighting him, and…” I cleared my throat. “I stopped fighting him…let him believe I wanted him…so I could steal his sidearm.” A soft laugh. A one-shoulder shrug. I was thinking about you the whole time, I didn’t say. “I managed to nab his key, too.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing.” I refused to look away. As the words had come out, I’d started to realize that my actions weren’t something to be ashamed of. I had been doing what I had to do to stay alive…to survive. “Mase did all the heavy lifting, really. He was going to kill the guy, but I asked him not to.”