I lie there, clutching my shoulder, staring at her.
“The truth is, we can’t control this. We never could. I need to stop trying to force it, and you do, too.” When I don’t respond, she continues, “If I keep trying to stop you, I’ll spend the rest of my life stopping you. So if you want to take on that responsibility and make that decision, do it.” She presses her lips together, then shakes her head. “I just want you to know: I think it could be pretty fantastic. We could have a great life.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and all that rage is draining from me.
“Kazuma and I had a dream, to go somewhere remote, Oregon or something, and live in the woods. Not infecting anyone, not fighting anything, just making love every day in a forest or on a lake-shore or something.” She smirks. “I’m flexible on the ‘lovemaking location’ issue.” She glances at me and quietly adds, “I would share him, if you wanted. We both deserve to be happy, and I think he can give that to us.”
Slowly, shuddering, I sit up. “We wouldn’t be able to make a clean break.”
“Sure we can. Our families will assume we were killed in the chaos, and they’ll mourn, and they’ll put our names in a list on a big memorial to the dead, and they’ll move on. The Army will stop the invasion. Innocent people will suffer and die, but many more would if the three of us stayed near people. It’s better in the long run if we disappear.”
“I . . . never thought I’d hear you admit that.”
She laughs weakly. “Me, neither. I guess . . . We’ll have to have courage, and we can share that with each other, but it also has to come from within.” She looks to me contemplatively. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. Are you strong enough to keep on living?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
In the throbbing redness behind my eyelids, I feel the strand of a comforting memory. But when I follow it, I find it broken. I stand in the darkness of my own mind, hands holding a guiding thread that no longer guides me anywhere.
There was something I wanted to save, and it’s gone.
All tension floods out of my body.
I look up at Ron, silhouetted against the sunset, and for the first time since being infected— No. For the first time in years, I feel at peace. No anxiety, no dread, just relief. There’s nothing else for me to save, no one left who won’t be taken care of.
Within minutes, maybe even seconds, the soldier will find his perfect perch and drop the stone. If he did his math right, a pulse will envelope the city and destroy every thing of needles — monsters big and small, what’s left of Kazuma, and of course, Ron and I. All of this will have been just a bad dream.
But Ron doesn’t have to know that.
I get up and hobble over to her, sit down beside her on the A/C unit.
She smiles and takes my remaining hand. “You won’t regret this,” she whispers, squeezing.
“Oh, I already feel better.” I cough. “Instead of fighting, we get to watch a pretty sunset.”
“We’ll have to find Kazuma,” she murmurs, gazing at birds flocking on the horizon, fluttering across the sun.
Kazuma is ashes by now. I doubt we could save him. But Ron doesn’t have to know that.
“We could head to Oregon, or Argentina, or anywhere else,” she whispers. “You choose.”
I expect a pang of anxiety at this new responsibility, but instead I feel light and open and free. No use panicking now.
The sunset is perfect, a hazy yellow circle dipping into the horizon. The clouds are tinged with purple edges.
I’m so glad to be sharing this with her, but at the same time, I catch a scent of old wood, of forest, of sitting by myself in perfect peace.
My vision fills with pinks and reds and gold—
—and blue—
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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If you’re just skimming to the end before you settle in to read (I heard that some readers do this, and eh, I don’t judge), don’t let me interrupt you!
But if you just finished reading this entire book, thank you! Eden Green is the result of ten years of practice and grown from the compost of at least seven manuscripts. I’m so glad I’ve reached a point where I can trick— cough, persuade complete strangers to spend hours reading what I write.
If you have a minute, please leave a review on one of the sites above, or your blog if you have one. Even critical reviews spread my name around a little more and raise my chances of finding new fans. And if you really enjoyed this experience (or if it scared the hell out of you), tell others! Heck, tell me!
I’m off to work on my next project (maybe the semi-sequel to Eden Green!). I hope to see you there!
— Fiona
P.S. In case you had your heart set on the stereotypical ‘lives in X state with her Y spouse and Z cats’:
Fiona van Dahl lives and writes in northwest Arkansas. She is most at home when alone in the woods, or when curled up with her husband and three cats.
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