by Angel Lawson
Walker takes a step over, blocking my eye contact.
“Today is a fresh start. One I’m willing to give anyone that wants to be a member of the Safe Cities Alliance. An opportunity I’ve already given Ms. Ramsey and her friends. They turned their back on me. Kidnapped my daughter and continued to consort with the enemy.”
I snatch the microphone from his hand. “Don’t listen to him! He’s the one behind the crisis! He developed the infection to dismantle society! He is not your ally!”
Walker charges me and I duck, but there’s no place to go and my hands are behind my back. She latches her arm around my neck, snatching the microphone from my hands. Wyatt is already on his feet and he and Davis square off. Jackson eyes Jude, Parker, and Mary Ellen, leveling his gun in their direction, daring them to make a move. I look at the pregnant girl, her face pale and worried, and shout, “Stop! Wyatt. Stop. Davis, calm the eff down. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
The frenzy on the stage stops but Hamilton looks like the cat that ate the canary. He takes the microphone from Walker, who only tightens her grip on my neck. He walks back to the edge of the stage. Perez finally gathers a bit of courage and approaches him. The crowd can’t hear them speak but I can make out their words.
“Is this really necessary? We don’t deal with problems in public like this. Not in Winston-Salem,” she says.
“We had an agreement. And for that arrangement to happen I will make an example out of these people. They’ve had their opportunity.”
“And so, what? Public humiliation?” she asks. Lines furrow her forehead. “This won’t go over well.”
His eyes narrow at her tone—clearly offended she challenged his authority. The wild mania I’d sensed before from him flares behind his eyes and Perez realizes her mistake. “It’s just…the community is so fragile. I don’t want to excite everyone.”
“Madam, I hear your concern but it all depends on the getting the desired reaction.” He looks out over the crowd, many nervous and scared. “I’d say things are progressing nicely.”
Hamilton walks over to a small box on the edge of the stage. He faces the crowd, who has grown restless with the activities they’ve witnessed so far. With the microphone close to his mouth he says, “Before we go further I need to show you what we’re fighting against.”
He slams his foot down on the box and a door opens on the platform. A rectangular box rises from below, like we’re part of some post-apocalyptic half-time show. I fight against Walker until I can see better.
A mighty shudder rolls down my spine. Cole has been displayed on the board, arms spread crucifixion style. His skin is an ashy white. The curls on his head are matted and dull. There’s little question that he’s dead and a scream of disbelief catches in my throat. He was murdered by Davis in the streets. Davis, my friend, killed my other friend.
Spray painted over his head is the word, ’Mutant’, in drippy, red letters.
The audience is a mixture of gasping screams. Parents shield their children’s eyes. I feel bile surge up my throat. Even Wyatt’s face has turned a queasy green.
“Do you see this man?” Hamilton asks the crowd. “Looks perfectly normal. Strong. Capable. Smart, too—he used to be a scientist. Wanted to be a doctor.”
He steps closer and again I fight against Walker, who has me in a death grip.
“This man chose to give his humanity away. All for vengeance against an unjust world. He was the best a person could be—yet that meant nothing to him. He tossed it away. For power and strength.” He looks out into the crowd. “Do you really want to live side-by-side with a creature like this? One you can’t differentiate from your human neighbors? One who can snap your neck with his bare hands?” Hamilton points at Davis. “Do you see this man? Even he couldn’t stop the mutant. Not alone. Is that who you want living next door? Among your children?”
“Colonel Hamilton,” Ms. Perez says, walking up to him. “I think you’ve made your point.”
His eyes grow wild and he grits out, “No, I don’t think I have.”
Walker tightens her grip but I feel her remove her gun from her holster. “Don’t do this, Michelle,” I beg her. I lock eyes with Wyatt. He’s watching us like a hawk. “You’re better than this freak show.”
I feel the hard metal of the barrel against my head and watch, horrified, as Hamilton stands before Cole. The man tilt his chin upward and speaks loud and clear into his microphone, “God have mercy on your soul, son.”
“You’re disgusting!” I shout. “Cole was a better man than you even with the mutation running through his veins!”
His eyes flick toward me. There’s no emotion in them but hate. “We can’t have people like you in our world, Alexandra.” He nods at Walker. “Kill her.”
“Daddy! No!” Zoe shouts running toward him. Just before she reaches him she jumps back and screams. Two arrows fly through the sky from above, each slicing across Cole’s wrists with a gut-churning thwick. Hamilton and everyone else in the stadium looks up, trying to locate the shooter. More arrows zip through the air, taking out the sentries on the rooftops above, landing with precision on the guard blocking the stage. Walker keeps her grip tight, hugging me even closer. I glance to my right and watch as Parker drags Mary Ellen off to the side. With his hands tied behind his back, Jude charges at Jackson, kicking a chair into the bigger man’s knees.
“Kill her!” Hamilton shouts again, but his arms are tight around his daughter. Not in an embrace but a struggle over his weapon. He’s too big for her to overpower but Zoe does everything she can to slow him down.
“Walker! You’ve been given an order!”
The nuzzle jams into my skull. I wait for the shot. And wait, but all I hear is the screams of the crowd and Walker’s breath in my ear. It’s not that she won’t do it. It’s that she’s afraid. Not of me. No, someone else.
“Hands up,” Wyatt shouts, and without question Jude lifts his hands upward, an arrow splits the sky, severing the binds. Wyatt winks at Davis and says, “Paul has amazing aim.” To my astonishment, Davis tosses Wyatt a gun that he aims a gun at Walker’s head and says, “Let go of her. Now.”
Walker tugs me backwards, knowing I’m the only thing between her and certain death. “I knew it,” she hisses in my ear. “Those two will betray everyone else, but not each other or you.”
“Walker,” he says again, taking a step closer. She tightens her arm on my throat and I gag.
“I’ll kill her, Faraday. Then you’ll kill me. Either way, she’s dead.”
Her words are drowned out by the screams in the stadium. The attack set the crowd, who is already on edge, into a frenzy. The stadium falls into chaos, the guards instantly overwhelmed. People swell in stands, jumping over rows, falling onto the field. They rush the exits blocked by armed guards. The stairwells clog with people looking for cover from the attack above. They’re trapped and don’t know it’s the good guys outside the fence. They’re just scared.
An explosion rocks the ground—not from inside—but outside the stadium. People scream louder. Hamilton, in the midst of losing control, grapples with Zoe.
Across the stage, Perez--who moves faster than I expected--and her Council are gathered by the soldiers on stage. The rest of us are left in our dramatic showdown. I make eye contact with the woman, who is surrounded by guards, and make a plea.
“Perez!” I choke out, against the pressure of Walker’s arm. She stumbles just as a series of bombs go off outside the walls. “They want to work with you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
She looks at me with regret but I point at my sister and father and shout one last thing. “Take them with you.”
Jane looks indignant. I know she can handle herself but my father can’t. Even Walker seems to have no problem letting them go. They hold the cure. None of us can afford to lose them.
Movement from the front of the stage catches my eye as Hamilton copies Walker’s move and grabs Zoe, turning her into a shield. He’s shouting
while Zoe cries, fat tears rolling down her smooth cheeks. Wyatt keeps the gun focused on Walker, who just squeezes me tighter. Jude and Jackson brawl across the stage landing punch after punch. Parker has thrown her body over Mary Ellen’s, protecting her from the fight. Inch by inch they make their way off the platform. It all happens in a whirlwind of activity, but something else tugs at my consciousness.
Those two first arrows landed with intent, missing both Hamilton and Zoe. I stare at them now, green-tufted feathers sticking straight out of the board. Paul shot those arrows. Wyatt said so himself. I glance skyward but the sentries on top are gone, the battle having moved outside the stadium.
Hamilton shouts, “It doesn’t end like this. The freaks will not inherit the earth. You’re an abomination in God’s eyes. He will not let this stand and neither can I—”
The ripping sound echoes in my ears, even over the escalating sounds of a heavy fighting outside. The straps are leather but the arrows weakened them, giving the sleeping beast the chance to make his move.
Cole lunges from the board, awake and most definitely alive. Pushing Zoe to the ground, his strong hands wrap round Hamilton’s neck. Walker gasps in my ear.
“Me or him,” I tell her, but leverage the moment to elbow her in the gut and slam my foot down on her toes. Wyatt jumps at his chance, disarming and disabling Walker, and I race toward Davis. He quickly cuts the binds and tosses me the hatchet that he hung from his belt.
Jude lands a punch on Jackson, knocking him to the ground where he tips over and falls with a thud. Already the sounds of the battle have waned. It shouldn’t take long for the Mutts and Birmingham to make their point. Perez isn’t dumb enough to make a mistake twice today
“Help me,” Hamilton begs Walker, eyes bulging.
“Let it go,” Wyatt says to her. I have little doubt he’ll pull the trigger if she moves an inch. “Cole. It’s time to end this.”
He’s giving him the choice. And I watch the tic in Cole’s jaw as he runs the plays through his head. Kill him. Hurt him. Maim him. Finally he says, “You spoke of my life before—how it was filled with hope and possibility—how I threw it away.”
Hamilton’s down on his knees now, eyes pleading.
“There’s only one thing I lost in all of this that I regret. Everything else was worth it. The decisions I made were for the better of this country—for the people. How dare you question my loyalty.” He glances over and I feel the pain in his words. “To anyone.”
“I was wrong. I didn’t understand,” Hamilton says, but his arrogance betrays his hatred. Once again the crowd roars. I look up and see a man emerge from the center tunnel leading the Mutts and Bama Brigade inside. A wide, real—not painted—smile on his face.
Reality bears down on Hamilton and Walker. Cole resumes his condemnation. “No. You didn’t understand. You have no idea what the real world is like out there. You don’t know what it’s like to be hunted and to hunt. We didn’t have walls protecting us and even when we did we had to make decisions based on survival.”
Cole’s voice is calm. Eerily so, and he bends closer to Hamilton and points a gun at Zoe, who is frozen to her spot on the stage.
“Would you kill her for the future? Would you sacrifice family?”
Hamilton looks at his daughter—weak and pathetic. He takes a deep breath. “Yes. I would.”
Cole’s back straightens. “That’s the difference between us. Because I couldn’t. Alex couldn’t.” His hand tightens around his throat and says, “You’re the real monster.”
The snap is quick, brutal, the light of Hamilton’s eyes extinguishing in an instant. Zoe gasps and I run across the stage to her. She falls in my arms, sobbing, and I watch Cole as he stands. Walker falls to her knees, tossing her weapon at Wyatt. Davis ties her hands in binds, while Jude does the same to Jackson.
Wyatt takes little time reaching me and pulling me off the ground. His hug is crushing and his words sweet and powerful in my ear. I feel the change in this moment—the actual hope that was missing in all our other fights. The good guys didn’t swoop in to win this one. It was only us. The dirty and conflicted. The morally questionable.
I look over Wyatt’s shoulder, searching for Cole, but he’s no longer on the stage.
“Where did he go?” I ask Wyatt.
“We’ll find him.” He looks past me and I see that Zoe is on the ground next to her father’s body. I take her hand and pull her away, back toward the way we came in.
Halfway across the platform, Parker and Mary Ellen appear from their hiding spot. Jude hobbles over, bloody from his fight with Jackson, and helps Parker back on the stage. They fall into a tight, heartbreaking hug and my eyes lock with Wyatt’s.
“Mary Ellen may need a little help,” I suggest. He raises an eyebrow but Zoe is the one that moves to help her. Once she’s on the platform, I can’t help but stare at the girl’s belly. Wyatt gives me a questioning look.
“She’s pregnant.” We watch Mary Ellen ghost her hand over the small bump protectively. “Finn’s, obviously.”
“Pregnant?”
I laugh at his confusion and it feels good. So good for something to break the fear and sorrow. “That still happens, even in the apocalypse.”
“I know that. I mean…” And for the few times since I’ve known and loved Wyatt Faraday, he looks afraid.
I pull him close, wrapping my arms around him. Death surrounds us. Hamilton is dead. Chloe gone. The Mutts are safe, for now, at least. Around Wyatt’s back I see my sister and father emerge from the rear of the stadium with Perez and her council. The Bama Brigade and Mutts are calm and organizing the crowds. Despite the sticky blood under my feet and the fact half our allies turned traitor, we’re stronger than ever.
“Tell me about that place again,” I say, keeping my eyes on my sister and father. I don’t want to let them out of my sight. “The one at the beach.”
His chin rests on my head and his arms squeeze me tight and Wyatt, whispering in my ear, reminds me of the little slice of heaven he claims waits for us further south. The place we can go to be together. Where we can exist in peace, away from the carnage and fighting.
Because after today, after the gunfire and blood, the girl who nearly lost it all in order to save those most important to her, plans one last thing.
To live for the future.
Epilogue
The air tastes salty, and when I step off the boardwalk my toes sink into the soft, gray sand. I can’t help but look down and marvel at the moment.
I’m barefoot.
Which is exactly how you get killed in the apocalypse.
There’s something else—at first it was jarring. The waves beat the sand unrelentingly, day and night. The sound settled in my ears, replacing the silence that has followed us for years, through the farmland and forests. Over mountains and in the dark of night. On our tiny island, silence doesn’t exist. The ocean is alive with the waves and wind. Wyatt was right. It’s perfection.
At first, I’m sure that we’ll all die. Me and Wyatt. Mary Ellen and the baby. I doubt Zoe will even make it on the trip. I’m convinced that now that we’re here, now that we’ve found the kids and the Armstrong family, I’ll bring danger with us. But Dorothy and her husband Matt are strong. Her daughters, their husbands and kids are even stronger. So we don’t. We don’t die out here on this island. Instead we survive. We live. And ultimately, although it’s in a different way, we thrive.
I sit on the bottom step of the boardwalk that leads up to the small beach house and think about how I got to this place. Before Chloe took over PharmaCorp, before I escaped north with my sister, I found three children in an abandoned, burned-out section of Augusta, Georgia. I found these three children, Devin, Kori, and Garrett, who needed a home. I couldn’t provide one at the time but Wyatt did. He went even further by giving them a family. A housewife and farmer he’d met and rescued from the Hybrid Army. He gave them a house, a beach, really, an entire island, isolated from the danger and infe
ction of the world.
The kids race down by the water’s edge. Mr. Armstrong watches from the lifeguard chair dragged from some other part of the beach. Zoe, out for a walk with Mary Ellen and her baby, stroll near the dilapidated pier. M.E. named the baby, a girl, Finley, and she has her father’s eyes.
The sun beams overhead and the sky is clear and blue. We’ve made it to another summer.
Vibrations on the boardwalk alert me to someone coming, and although my hands ghost over the place my hatchet should be, I don’t panic when it’s missing. It’s taken months to fight the reflex. Wyatt says we shouldn’t lose it completely. That, realistically, we should find a place in the middle.
He thinks we should try to be happy.
His feet appear on the step, then down on the sand next to my own. I find them fascinating. They’re brown and tan and until we arrived on the island I’m not sure I ever saw them. But now they’re exposed all the time. On the beach. Through the house. In our bed. He rests his hand on my lap and I thread my fingers through his. He has a silver band that matches the one on my left hand.
“How was patrol?” I ask. He’d been gone since the day before with two of the other men.
“Good. Randy bagged a deer.”
“Really?” We don’t keep much meat. So something fresh is always a treat. “I’ll go up soon to help.”
He nods. His chin is smooth—he shaved before he came down, knowing I like it best. “It was pretty quiet though. We did run into a few scouts from Birmingham. They’re helping Augusta get up on their feet.”
After the battle in Winston-Salem, agreements were made between the cities of Birmingham, Winston-Salem, and New Hope. A three-part council was created and it was agreed that the Mutts were not a threat. In fact, all parties agreed the Hybrids are an on-going issue, but the Mutts, if willing, seemed to be the answer.
Paul agreed to command these soldiers—or rather, bounty hunters. Hamilton wasn’t mistaken about the threat of the Hybrids—his ideology was wrong. The Hybrids and Eaters are still a problem, but as a society we have to accept the changes. And the Mutts are part of us now.
