After the Ending

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  This can’t be happening!

  “I tried to give you a chance to see things my way. I even got rid of that little—”

  “Fuck off you psycho bitch.” Jason’s hands clenched into tight fists and he snarled, “I never should’ve touched your skanky ass. I will kill you for what you did.”

  Cece stuck out her lower lip in a mocking pout and tapped the barrel of her gun lightly against her mouth. “You were so unreasonable—taking her side on everything. At least I didn’t do anything permanent. Not like what’s about to happen to you.” She smiled wickedly, again aiming her weapon in his direction. “You really should’ve been more supportive…more understanding. You had a chance after she left, but you missed it.”

  “You’re fucking insane.” Jason stated.

  Cece shrugged, dismissing his opinion with that single gesture. In a few steps, she was inches from him. She pressed the muzzle of her weapon into his abdomen and stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, pausing to kiss his neck softly. As she spoke, his fists clenched and unclenched. From my vantage point, Jason seemed to be expending a herculean amount of restraint to remain still.

  Before she finished talking, her hands still groping him like a lover, Jason made his move. His body blocked my view of his sudden strike, but I could still hear. With a sickening snap, Cece’s gun clattered onto the weathered wood. It took Jason less than a second to spin Cece around and maneuver her into a choke hold, clutching the side of her head while she whimpered. Even with several handguns trained on him, Jason had gained the momentary upper hand.

  “Lower your weapons, or I’ll break more than her wrist,” he warned.

  Distracted by Jason’s deadly grace, I hadn’t noticed Chris draw what appeared to be a sawed-off shotgun. She had it aimed at John’s chest.

  “If you…kill me…they’ll kill you,” Cece gasped between shallow breaths and pathetic whimpers.

  “Worth it,” Jason stated coldly, and I knew he wore a sadistic grin.

  NO! This can’t be happening! The situation was spiraling out of control. There were few remaining options that included my friends’ survival. Utter desperation filled me. Dammit, I can’t lose them! I can’t lose him!

  Of its own accord, a plan formed in my mind. I focused all of my mental energy on Cece. “Miss me, bitch?”

  Her whimpers suddenly ceased. I hoped it was because she’d heard my voice in her head and not because Jason was following through on his threat. I couldn’t let him do it. I refused to watch him die.

  Wasting no time, I continued my assault on Cece’s mind, “He’ll do it, you know. And then what’ll you have? Nothing. You’ll be dead. You won’t even be avenged. Your little followers won’t get a shot off—I’ll see to that. Think about it, Cece. If I can talk in your head, what else can I do?”

  Cece sobbed, “No…can’t be…it’s not possible…” Her words echoed in my mind.

  A massive headache was forming in my skull, and my body was beginning to shake from a sudden chill. It was difficult to keep my voice from sounding strained in her head. “Oh, it is you psycho bitch. I’m in your head…should I stay and play around?” I attempted to make my tone even colder as I thought, “Call them off, and get the hell out of here.”

  I couldn’t hear her response through the sudden whooshing in my ears. It felt like there was too much blood saturating my brain, making my head throb with an explosive intensity. I tried to see how the scene played out, but my vision was narrowing, dimming. I put all of my effort into watching and listening, but it wasn’t enough. Leaden, my eyelids shut, and my head slumped to the ground.

  Jack’s warm body huddled against me as my world faded out of existence.

  28

  ZOE

  The morning was gloomy. The weather had progressively worsened, and I wasn’t excited about training under the looming, possibly rain-filled clouds that churned in the angry sky.

  In the warmth of my sleeping quarters I readied myself for a day of flailing and falling. I layered myself in some of the training attire I’d acquired from the one-stop shop on base—the “PX” according to Harper. With the exception of my brown tank top and combat boots, the army-green, long-sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and socks all labeled with FORT KNOX made me look like a walking billboard for the base. My goal: to keep my arms warm, my legs shielded from the scrapes that would come with every scuffle and fall, and to protect my feet from the heel stomping and ankle twisting I would undoubtedly endure. Based on experience, I knew my agility was lacking, but I dressed optimistically. I also knew that the bulkier my clothes were, the more difficultly I’d have bobbing and ducking…and running away.

  Hoping to minimize the amount of tearing and knotting my long hair would sustain, I weaved it into a thick braid. With my black tresses pulled away from my face, it was easier to see the faint yellow remnants of the bruise on my cheekbone.

  However, taking in my overall appearance, I was pleasantly surprised. I looked pretty badass—looked being the operative word. I relished the idea of venting some of my irritation. I was still stewing over what had happened with Jake. His matter-of-fact tone pissed me off, and his inscrutable attitude was getting old. Self-defense lessons would start after breakfast, and unfortunately for Harper, as my trainer and partner, he’d be receiving the brunt of my pent-up aggression.

  Walking into the mess hall, I found Harper sitting at a long table with Sarah, Biggs, Clara, and Jake. The last thing I wanted was to sit next to Jake while he exuded the mysteriousness that annoyed me so much.

  Outwardly unfazed by his presence, I passed him on my way to the stainless steel tubs filled with mounds of steaming food. With a smile, I filled my plate with hash browns, bacon, and scrambled eggs, and wondered who was to thank for such a glorious meal.

  I heard chattering and laughter bubbling up from the tables behind me, and it instantly brightened my mood. The sounds filled the large dining room with vibrancy and comfort.

  “Hey Croft, you mind grabbing me some OJ while you’re up?” Harper called out.

  Assuming he was talking to me, I peered back at him. “Croft?”

  “Yeah, you know, Lara Croft—tomb raider, relic hunter…? You look like her today.”

  “She’s hot,” Biggs said uncharacteristically, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “She’s a video game character,” Sarah said disapprovingly. “She’s not hot.”

  “She kicks ass. That’s totally hot,” Biggs reiterated.

  Jake chuckled. “Yeah, she’s pretty hot.”

  Distracted by Jake’s comment, I filled a cup until orange juice spilled over the rim. “Shit,” I spat. Wiping my hand on my pants, I headed to the table. Biggs scooted over to make room for me.

  “Thanks,” Harper nodded and winked as I handed him the sticky cup. His charm and playfulness sometimes made me forget he was a medic. I’d always imagined doctors as old and stuffy. Harper was definitely neither.

  I took a sip from my own cup of orange juice and nodded. “Sure thing.”

  Avoiding Jake’s penetrating stare was impossible. He sat directly across from me, his attentive eyes alternating between Harper and me. Guilt poured off of him every time our eyes met, but his closed-off expression remained.

  As I slowly ate my breakfast, I lost myself in thought. I couldn’t help wondering what Jake had done before the Virus. Why do I care? Stop thinking about it. But even as I told myself I shouldn’t care, I knew I did. The simple fact that he wouldn’t talk to me made me all the more curious.

  Jake was tall and strong—someone my dad would’ve called a “strapping young man”. With his military-style clothing and close-cropped hair, he could easily be mistaken for a member of the armed forces. I just couldn’t picture him taking orders from anyone. Given his rugged appearance and macho build, he could’ve been a lumberjack. However, I couldn’t picture that without the idea of him stripping off his clothes while gyrating to techno music. That made me smile, just a little.

  “Wha
t are you grinnin’ about?” Harper whispered near my ear. The warmth of his breath sent pleasant chills rippling through me.

  “Nothing,” I lied, shoving a fork full of hash browns into my mouth.

  “You ready for your lessons today?” He wiggled his thick eyebrows up and down. I laughed, realizing Harper’s eyebrows were a character themselves—he wouldn’t be the same without them.

  I was relieved to see Harper’s playful banter had returned. Summer’s death had been difficult for him. I could still feel his remorse, just as I’d been feeling everyone else’s—it was impossible to ignore.

  “I think so. Although…you seem a little too excited about it.” I smirked. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be nervous.” I eyed him carefully, waiting for a muscle twitch or an averted gaze to give him away.

  “I’ll look out for you.” His promise was compromised by a mischievous grin.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “What, you don’t trust me?” he scoffed. “I’m always looking out for the best interest of—”

  “Yourself,” I interrupted, and he laughed.

  I glanced at Clara as she stood. She was watching me intently. When she noticed me looking at her, she flashed a bright smile and glided away. The pale purple of her yoga pants triggered my memory, and nearly violet eyes flashed in my mind. Recalling the look on the mysterious, dying woman’s face and the feeling of Jake’s misery, I suddenly felt nauseous.

  I looked up and found Jake staring at me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look sick.”

  I had to blink to clear the image from my mind. “Yeah, I’m fine,” was all I could think to say.

  “Alright, Baby Girl,” Harper said as he stood. “Let’s go. Time to get to work.” He looked over at Jake. “You coming?”

  I glanced back and forth between Harper and Jake. “Excuse me?” Please tell me Jake isn’t gonna be a part of this.

  Jake studied me with unreadable eyes before walking away in silence.

  Frantically, I followed Harper as he marched down the hall. “I thought I was training with you, H?”

  He shook his head. “No, Jake’s your sparring partner.” His casualness was maddening. Great. This is gonna be torture.

  Walking outside, Harper surveyed the ground and bent down to pick up a few branches and sticks…though I didn’t know why he needed them. “You don’t like Jake, huh?” He examined a few large twigs before approaching me, seeming a little too entertained by my discomfort.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying to like him, but he’s sort of a dick. He’s making it nearly impossible to get to know him…or even talk to him. He won’t even let me thank him properly for…you know.” I dropped my hands to my sides, realizing I’d been gesturing around wildly.

  Harper shrugged which only increased my annoyance. “You don’t know Sanchez all that well either. Some people are just more private than others.”

  Why is he defending him so much? Not wanting to admit it was true, I remained silent.

  “Give him a break. Besides, he’s leaving as soon as his wounds heal. And to answer your question, I am teaching you, but Sanchez brought up a good point—you need to be able to defend yourself against anyone, Zoe.” His eyebrows shot up in acknowledgement. “Hey Jake, perfect timing. Grab a stick.”

  I turned to find Jake standing behind me with his arms crossed. I needed to tell Harper that Jake was already healed. Instead, I was distracted by Jake’s inscrutable expression; he looked neither eager nor opposed to being there.

  Harper cleared his throat then explained, “I want Zoe to learn how to use things around her as weapons at any given moment. She won’t always have a gun or a knife, or…us.” He walked over to me, presenting a twig, a stick, and a small branch. “Pick the one you want to start with. We’ll switch it up as we go.”

  What does he want me to do, build a fire? I shrugged and grabbed a gnarly, foot-long stick.

  After an hour of step-by-step training with Harper, I knew how to effectively knee, kick, elbow, and head-butt my way out of an assailant’s hold, in theory anyway. The stick, which was supposed to be functioning as my weapon, ended up causing me more bodily harm than Harper. Then, he pulled Jake away from sparring with Sanchez.

  “Now, let’s see how well you can put everything together,” Harper said, grinning. “Show me what you’d do in scenario one, Baby Girl. Jake’s twice as big as you and five times as strong.”

  “Oh come on, I’m not that pathetic,” I retorted.

  Harper ignored me and continued, “What are you gonna do if he has his arms wrapped around you from behind?”

  It was difficult to stay focused as Jake’s observant eyes watched me, waiting, but imagining the pleasure I’d feel at taking out my aggression on him—one scratch, stomp, and jab at a time—was enough to inspire my determination to learn. I stood with my back to him, anxiously waiting for his arms to wrap around me. I desperately hoped my body would have zero response.

  Distracted by Cooper barking as he played with Sanchez a few yards away, I spun around. Just as I did, Jake’s arms wrapped around me. His scruffy cheek rubbed against mine, tickling my skin and exciting me against my will. His breath was warm on my neck, and an earthy scent wafted off him, diverting my attention from what I was supposed to be doing. Wait, what…the pressure of his solid arms wrapped tightly around me was distracting.

  “You’re not even trying, Zoe,” Harper said, snapping me out of my unwanted, lusty haze.

  “Agh!” I finally started to struggle. Jake’s hold was unyielding as I wriggled around. After only a few seconds had passed, I was already winded. This is embarrassing.

  I took a deep, conscious breath. Situation one…a man comes up from behind me. I’m supposed to… Using my thigh muscles, I leaned forward and immediately sprung backward as hard and fast as I could. With the force of my body movement, I knocked Jake off balance and tried to hit his face with the back of my head.

  My efforts were fruitless. He tilted his head to the side, and the back of my head missed his face, nearly giving me whiplash as it ricocheted off the top of his shoulder. “Shit,” I hissed, trying to ignore the sharp pain in the back of my neck.

  Unsure what to do next, I leaned forward, lifted my legs off the ground, and let my body weight hang limply in his grasp. He stumbled forward, no doubt surprised by my unconventional methods. His head bent down toward me, and I quickly planted my feet back on the ground. As he tried to regain his footing, I head-butted him in the nose.

  “Son of a bitch!” he rasped, but his hold tightened—I still couldn’t wriggle away. As I continued to struggle, I heard snickering and stopped. Harper and Sanchez were laughing hysterically as they watched us.

  “What do you call that? You look like a monkey,” Harper said as he continued laughing, and I realized I must have resembled a cat struggling to escape the suffocating arms of its owner.

  Jake let go, and I crumpled to the ground with a thud. I was glad to be away from the distracting sensations I felt in his arms, but the sharp pain that shot through my knee upon impact was an unwanted replacement. Catching my breath, I stood up.

  “Nice head-butt. It would’ve been more effective if your hair wasn’t padding the contact,” Jake told me. Although I knew he was right, I resented his smart-ass tone.

  “That was definitely…one way to do it,” Harper agreed. “But you didn’t get very far, Baby Girl. Try it again; only this time, let’s practice using the second scenario.” Harper took a step back, clapping his hands in an effort to keep me motivated, and Jake immediately seized me from the front. Winded, I quickly tried to collect myself, but with his arms wrapped around me, his scent assaulted me and derailed my concentration yet again.

  As I struggled, my hair stuck to the stubble of his face like Velcro. I must’ve looked utterly ridiculous with his arms around me and my face buried in his neck.

  Suddenly, my curiosity faded as I once again recalled the image of the woman I’d seen
in Jake’s memories, lying limp and dying in his arms. What part had he played in her death? Unease washed over me at the reminder that Jake was practically a stranger. I reprimanded myself for forgetting that, and common sense kicked in. I was supposed to be kneeing him in the groin. So, that’s what I did.

  Distracting Jake with a fake head-butt should’ve worked, but he’d been watching me train and knew the moves Harper had taught me—it was easy for him to avoid my attack. I tried to knee him as hard as I could, but he blocked my attempt with his leg.

  He laughed heartily as I struggled in his hold. He’s enjoying this way too much. Infuriated, I bit his neck with guilty pleasure. Although the element of surprise would’ve sufficed, I bit him harder than necessary, and he shouted in pain. I kneed him in the groin as hard as I could, and when his grip loosened, I elbowed him in the face. Squirming out of his hold, I began to dance victoriously.

  Jake’s expression was a mix of anger, pain, and amusement. He winced a couple of times, but my celebration was short-lived—he was in less pain than I’d hoped. Bent over and breathing deeply, he smirked. “Feel better?”

  “Actually…yes, I do,” I admitted.

  Harper sauntered over with his mouth drawn into a proud smile. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Baby Girl. Great job! A little unorthodox, but hey, it worked.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a friendly squeeze.

  “You said I’d have to think on my feet.” I looked back at Jake who was still bent over in fading pain, watching me.

  Harper laughed. “Alright, enough play time for today. Let’s get to work.” He motioned toward the hospital. “Thanks for your help, Jake. See you in there.”

  I made my way to the hospital with Harper, donned my white jacket, and started preparing the tetanus boosters we’d planned to administer to everyone. I barely had time to pull out my syringes, needles, and vials before Sanchez began sending people in. Dave walked in and headed straight to Harper’s table in the treatment bay beside mine, thankfully without a glance in my direction. Tanya was next to arrive, and she headed over to me.