After the Ending

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Like he could tell I’d seen too much, Jake pulled his hand away and yanked his shirt on.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine,” he repeated roughly before retreating down the hall. Cooper trailed only slightly behind him.

  25

  DANI

  I hadn’t thought it was possible, but I was even more sore when I woke from my daylight slumber. I emerged from the tent in the late afternoon, my joints creaking like I was the tin man in need of oil. And my muscles, oh my muscles…they seemed to have calcified and merged with my bones.

  Just one more night, I reminded myself. My plan to travel during the dark hours each day had proven ingenious so far; I’d been able to avoid my abandoned group—if they were even looking for me—and Crazies alike.

  As I puttered around the campsite, my head throbbed with an emotional hangover from the previous day’s overwhelming doses of loneliness and despair. I felt numb, mentally sluggish, and a little sick. Not that it mattered—I had things to do.

  To appease my dream stalker, I refrained from speaking aloud to my animal companions. I almost broke the rule when it was time to leave.

  Where’s Jack? He was just here.

  In the fading light, I searched the periphery of the campground, crunching pine cones and needles loudly as I moved from site to site. What little heat the December sun had provided during the day was dissipating quickly, and eerie shadows were being cast between the towering redwoods. I desperately wanted to get moving before the chill settled deeper into my body and stole what little mobility I had left.

  Just as I opened my mouth to quietly call for him, Jack trotted out of some nearby bushes with a wagging tail. He barked merrily.

  I glared at him. And where have you been?

  He lay down before me, rolling over to offer his neck in submission.

  Awareness dawned on me like the rays of the rising sun. It was so simple—so obvious. I had been experiencing the symptoms of one of MG’s “Abilities” over the past few weeks, I’d just assigned the effects to the wrong being: it’s not that Jack’s the smartest dog in the world…it’s that I’m in his head.

  Without moving a muscle, I stared at the groveling dog and projected the thought, “Stand up, Jack.”

  He stood, watching me expectantly.

  “Go over to Wings.”

  Jack immediately pranced over to the horse a dozen paces away.

  “Both of you, come here.”

  Like well-rehearsed actors, Jack and Wings closed the distance between us until we stood in a cluster at the center of the campground.

  I can talk to animals…in their minds. Holy crap! Thoughts raced around my head, making me dizzy, and I dropped to my knees on the cold ground. I just sat there, looking at nothing.

  Jack sniffed my face and whined. “Mother? Okay? Hurt?”

  I stared at him in shock, knowing with certainty that the deep, rough voice in my head had come from my dog. It’s not just one-way. How’d I miss this?

  The cynical part of me whispered silently, Because I wanted to. Because I was afraid. Because I didn’t want to be a Crazy. Belatedly, I thought, This is the coolest thing ever!

  “No, Sweet Boy,” I said both out loud and in Jack’s mind. “I’m fine. You’re such a good boy.” I scratched his neck for a few more seconds before standing and turning my attention to Wings. “I suppose you don’t really need this, do you?” I asked, tugging gently on her bridle. If we could talk in each other’s minds, I figured we could manage traveling without Wings having several chunks of metal jammed into her mouth.

  “No. Remove please.” Her voice was as rich and sweet as vanilla custard.

  Neither Jack nor Wings actually spoke in words. Rather, it was like I could instinctively decipher the meaning of their projected thoughts, and my brain seemed to translate them into something recognizable. It was the same as listening to someone speak a foreign language for the first time and just knowing what they were saying. I wasn’t sure how it worked, or why…only that it did.

  Obliging Wings, I freed her of the tangle of leather and metal and tossed the entire contraption into some nearby ferns. It took me longer than usual because my hands were shaking with adrenaline. Feeling suddenly awkward about forcing her to carry me, I pointed to her back and asked, “May I?”

  She consented with a snort.

  As we made our way out of the campground, questions bounced around my mind like ping pong balls. Am I delusional? Is this real? How can it be? I let Wings and Jack navigate the highway while I tried to do the same with my thoughts.

  A few hours after midnight, we passed the scattered houses on the outskirts of town. Finally, after ten days of painfully slow travel—first by car with the others, then by horse on my own—I had arrived in Bodega Bay. I was home.

  During the long hours of the night, I’d managed to wrestle with uncertainty, eventually accepting reality. My Ability was real. I could talk to animals, and they could talk to me. I had also come up with a plan—there were a few places I needed to visit first, but I knew exactly where we’d hunker down.

  Riding through the abandoned streets of my neighborhood, I felt like a stranger in my own town. It was as though my home had transformed into an Old West ghost town. I half expected to hear rusty signs squeaking and to see a tumbleweed bouncing across the worn pavement. As far as I could tell, I was completely alone. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Where once they had been familiar and welcoming, the grassy hills to the west now seemed foreboding—anything could’ve been hiding behind their gentle slopes. Even the waves crashing against the jagged rocks sounded malevolent, like they were purposely masking any audible warnings of danger.

  Apprehension built inside me as we closed in on Grams’s house. I hadn’t seen a single living person since leaving Fort Bragg, but I was desperately hoping to find one in there.

  Dismounting in the driveway, I asked Wings to stay hidden in the nearby trees. I’d expected to feel relief when I finally approached my childhood home. Instead, the steel-gray color of the siding had gone from soothing to dreary, and the various nooks and crannies surrounding the sprawling split-level house provided numerous hiding places for potential threats. My knees trembled as I slowly ascended the front steps.

  Jack followed me, his tail drooping.

  What if she’s like Aunt Janet? I thought, standing on the porch and staring at the familiar, coral-white front door. Or what if she’s a Crazy?

  “If Grams is here, we have to find her,” I told Jack. He sat down obediently and waited for me to open the door.

  Fear caused my hand to shake as I grasped the doorknob and thought, Please be locked. The handle caught when I twisted it, like it was trying to deny me entrance, but then the latch clicked, and the door slowly swung open. Jack pushed into the house in front of me while I stood on the welcome mat and held my breath. Taming my wild emotions, I exhaled and gingerly breathed in through my nose.

  There was only the smell of home—a combination of cinnamon, chamomile, wax, and pine that filled the house year-round from Grams’s compulsive cleaning and candle-making habits. It was the most glorious thing I’d ever smelled, and not for nostalgia’s sake. Grams wasn’t rotting in her own home; there was still hope.

  “Grams!” I called out, stepping tentatively into the dark house and shutting the door. I flipped the entryway light switch, but nothing happened. “Are you here? Grams?” I roamed around the familiar cluster of rooms, hallways, and stairs, only tripping over an out-of-place ottoman and a pair of galoshes in the inky darkness. “Grams?”

  I opened her downstairs bedroom door, hoping to find her asleep in her bed, but my hope proved useless. She’s not here. I sat heavily on the end of her quilt-covered mattress. “Where are you, Grams?” I whispered into the darkness.

  Feeling myself coming unhinged, I reined in my emotions and hurried out of the room. Jack joined me as I reached the front door, and together we went back outside. I’ll find her, I promised myself and headed down
the street toward Zoe’s house.

  An hour later, I’d finished searching the equally deserted home—like Grams, Zoe’s dad was ominously absent. Defeated and disheartened, I guided Jack and Wings across town to the ranch where I’d worked during high school. Not a street light glowed along my path. Not a ray of light shone through a window. Is anyone even alive?

  Even though it was still dark when we arrived at Bodega Bay Riders’ Ranch, the surroundings instantly comforted me. It was the only familiar place I could come up with that Jason might not think to check…if he even searches for me at all.

  As I dismounted and sent Wings out to pasture, I couldn’t help but dwell on Jason—the man I had to avoid in order to protect. He, along with the rest of the group, would be arriving in Bodega Bay in the morning. He would be in the same abandoned town as me, and I didn’t know if I had the strength to resist going to him.

  To keep him alive, I can.

  26

  ZOE

  I‘d been up all night in the hospital, doing everything I could to help Harper make Summer’s final hours as pain-free as possible. She rambled incoherently, and her vomiting and convulsions had increased. By nightfall her body was bloated and shivering, and she was delusional. Harper couldn’t let her suffer any longer.

  “Tanya,” he said grimly. “Her kidneys and liver aren’t functioning…it’s only a matter of time.”

  Tanya sat beside Summer’s hospital bed, clutching her sister’s hand. Her puffy eyes stayed locked on her sister’s trembling body as she slowly shook her head in defeat. Though Summer’s waning skin color and weakening body were obvious, Tanya refused to let her go. Summer’s all she has left. I wished I could do something, anything, to help the sobbing woman. I imagined myself in a similar situation with Dani, and something in my chest clenched.

  Unable to watch the miserable scene any longer, I excused myself and left the room. As I walked away, I heard Harper say, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for her now. I know this is difficult, but we have no choice—we need to sedate her. She’s suffering, and I can’t allow it to go on.”

  Tanya’s only audible response was to cry harder. I was grateful Tanya had Clara to comfort her. They’d been through hell over the last few weeks, but at least they had each other. I tried not to imagine something terrible happening to my brother or Dani, the only two people I had left in the world.

  After giving Summer enough Morphine to put her in a deep, painless sleep, Harper joined me at the emergency room’s central nurses’ station. I was cleaning up the disarray left behind by the tornado of Summer’s decline. Not wanting to disturb the women in the nearby trauma room, Harper spoke softly. “It’s arsenic poisoning. I’m almost certain.”

  My head shot up in disbelief, and I stared at him. “Arsenic?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense, and as soon as I finish the bloodwork, I’ll know for sure.”

  “But how? Accidentally?” She wouldn’t have done it to herself, would she? I thought about the images I’d seen in Jones’s mind of the naked woman crying. Was she handling things so badly that she’d want to end her life?

  “Not likely. Someone had to have done this to her,” Harper said adamantly.

  I immediately knew who. “Jones,” I whispered.

  Harper studied me, his eyes narrowed. “That’s my guess.”

  “He said things, and I saw—” I hesitated. “I know what he was capable of. It was either him or Taylor.”

  Harper exhaled heavily. “Do I even want to know?”

  Holding his eyes, I shook my head. “I think you should pull them all aside—Stacey, Tanya, and Clara, I mean—and see if they want to talk about what happened to them here. I’m sure I saw only a sliver of the monstrous things Jones did.” My mind rewound to the woods, to the feeling of Taylor’s foul hands assaulting my trembling body, but I shoved the memory away.

  Having been a horrible chemistry student, I was pleased with myself when I recalled some facts about the poisonous compound. “Isn’t arsenic in cigarettes and rat poison? Maybe she just…”

  Entertained by my naiveté, Harper gave me a small smile. “True, it’s a lot of places. But what we come in contact with on a daily basis is either organic or in such small quantities that it doesn’t hurt us. What Summer’s been subjected to is inorganic, which makes it extremely dangerous.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Arsenic’s been used in chemical warfare throughout history…it’s possible there’s some here on base.” He ran splayed fingers through his short, dark hair, exhausted and defeated. I could feel guilt weighing him down, clouding his rationality.

  I reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, H. There’s nothing you could’ve done. You said so yourself.” My attempt at a reassuring touch was ineffective—regret was pouring out of him. “You need to get some rest,” I told him.

  “I should’ve picked up on the symptoms sooner.” Suddenly, Harper’s guilt-ridden eyes brightened. “I think I saw arsenic in the armory yesterday.”

  Hearing soft footsteps, Harper and I turned to see Clara standing in the doorway to the trauma room. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was swollen and blotchy. After an uncomfortable silence, she breathed, “Summer’s gone.”

  Harper hurried into the room to check Summer’s pulse. She was gone.

  As everyone said their final goodbyes, relief filled the air, mixing with the suffocating sadness. I left the hospital, suddenly drowning in morbid thoughts of Dani and what horrible things might have happened to her. I hadn’t heard from her since she’d gone off on her own, and I knew Jones and Taylor weren’t the only sickos stalking around out there. But thinking of Dani triggered my protective instincts, and they quickly overpowered my grim thoughts. I should make sure Tanya’s okay.

  After finding everything necessary for tea in the kitchen and dampening a washcloth with warm water, I headed to Tanya’s room. I felt like a stranger as I tapped on her door, wondering if I’d be intruding. When I heard her timid voice call for me to come in, I entered. Tanya and Stacey sat on the bed and stared at me with drawn faces. Their grief was thick and palpable; I could feel the intensity of their emotions like they were my own. Sitting in a chair beside the bed, Clara appeared far more composed.

  Tanya wiped her red-rimmed eyes and sat up from her curled position on top of the comforter. “Hi,” she said raggedly, gathering her unkempt, mousey-brown hair into a ponytail.

  Smiling sympathetically, I walked over to the bedside table and set down the tray. “I brought some tea and a wet washcloth…if you want it.”

  “Thank you,” Tanya whispered. She picked up the damp cloth and placed it against her forehead.

  “I’ll go see what there is to eat,” Stacey said as she left the room.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?” I asked Tanya, hoping to make myself somewhat useful on such a depressing day.

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks,” Tanya said, motioning for me to join her on the bed. “So much has been going on the last few days…I feel like I barely know you.”

  I appeased her by sitting down. Though I felt uncomfortable being the center of attention, Tanya seemed eager for the distraction. “What would you like to know?”

  “I know Sanchez and her team met up with you in Ohio. Is that where you’re from?”

  It took me a brief moment to recall everything that had happened over the last few weeks. “No. Actually, I’m from California, but I was living in Massachusetts when all…this happened,” I said, gesturing around the room.

  Tanya’s face lit up. “Really? I’ve always wanted to go to California. I grew up in Michigan where I met and married my husband, Steven…the Virus got him early on. He was transferred here right after we married. I’ve never been anywhere else.” Her reminiscent tone became distant. “Summer was visiting me for Christmas from Texas. That’s where she was going to school. She never settled down…said she never wanted to.” She looked down at her hands.


  “I’m sure she was glad to be here with you. I know I’d be glad to be with my family if I could.” I frowned as I thought of my father. Is he alone? Is he dying? Is he already gone?

  Tanya nodded and shifted, pulling the blankets up around her. After a while, she dozed off. She was small like Dani, and her petite frame almost disappeared under the thickness of the blankets.

  In the silence, I examined her room, noting how similar it was to my own. She had a few books strewn on her bedside table and a pile of tissues on the floor close by. Clothes were heaped in the corner, and unlike my quarters, the walls were bare—there was nothing to distract from the sorrow filling the room.

  Afraid of waking Tanya, I slowly started to rise but froze when Clara said, “You’re very beautiful.” Her words were an observation more than a compliment—almost an accusation—and her piercing blue eyes seemed to burrow into my soul.

  I hesitated. “Um…thanks.”

  Suddenly, her expression softened. “Sorry, that sounded less weird in my head.” Her smile was demure and innocent. Maybe she’s bipolar…

  “It’s a nice compliment. Thank you. I definitely haven’t felt very pretty lately.” I pointed to my healing face.

  “You look much better,” she said, her unblinking stare still locked on me.

  Awkward.

  Tanya tossed fitfully, thankfully interrupting the uncomfortable moment. “Have you known Tanya for long?” I asked.

  Clara shook her head and moved to close the mini blinds, shutting out the sun. “Jake and I arrived a week before you did.” Ah, yes. The inescapable Jake. “I’ve gotten to know the others well enough since then.”

  As Clara watched Tanya sleep, I felt the seriousness of her emotions. I could sense her gratitude and suspicion, although I didn’t understand what was causing them.

  “How long have you known Jake?” I wondered aloud.

  Her eyes shot over to me, scrutinizing my face. “A while.” Smiling shyly, she added, “We have quite the past, actually.”