The World Without End [Box Set]

by Nazarea Andrews

  The Outpost has been ransacked. We pass several dead priests, blood pooling around their limp bodies, their heads neatly severed or bullets between their eyes.

  Omar and Finn took no chances, and left very few prisoners when they swept through.

  A few Grays are huddled together, held back by a blue-robed priest I hadn’t seen before. His eyes are wary as he nods once at Finn.

  “Anyone here?” he asks, shortly.

  “No one,” one of the Gray priests mutters, looking away.

  I lunge, and trip over my robes. Finn’s arm darts out, catching me and holding me up before I can hit the ground. “Where the hell is he?” I scream, fighting the arm Finn has still wrapped around my waist. He releases me as I find my feet and I jerk forward, grabbing the priest by the robes and smacking him across the face. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

  Behind me, I hear Finn make a low noise, like a growl, and I drop the priest, stepping back. I know O’Malley, know that he’s put everything together and that he’s holding a gun on this bastard. I straighten, and Finn says quietly, “Check the safe rooms.”

  I start to step away, and his hand—when did I take his hand?—clenches around mine, so painfully tight I gasp. His gaze goes blank, and when I tug slightly, he relents and releases me.

  “If he’s dead, I’ll have no reason to keep you alive. You realize that, don’t you?” Finn says, almost conversationally.

  “The High Priest won’t let you kill us,” one of the priests says, his voice shaking. I hear a low laugh, and then I scream.

  “Don’t move,” he snarls, and then he’s moving behind me, until he’s at my side. I can feel him there. I don’t want to feel anything.

  “Oh, fuck. No.”

  That makes it real. In a way that I had been able to deny, even as I watched the infection slowly ravage my brother’s body, it had been there in the back of my mind—not Collin. He’d survive. He’d beat the odds, because he was Collin.

  But hearing Finn, his voice breaking and stripped of everything that defines him—his fury and disdain, arrogance, and fucking blankness—all of it gone as he leans his head against the window, not touching me as we stand side by side and stare.

  There is no illusion left to hide behind. No magic fucking cure the Order developed and secreted away in a bunker no one knows about. There is only this. Only death and infection and death again.

  My brother is dying. He’s dead already.

  And I can’t do a fucking thing to stop it.

  Chapter 3.

  A Fucked Up Reunion

  “How long?” Finn demands, still staring at Collin. The bite is fully exposed, and I can see the black of his veins tracing along his legs, up to the thin medical gown they’ve dressed him in. A sheen of sweat and the paleness of his skin make my stomach turn.

  “How long since he was bitten?” Finn snarls, reaching for me.

  I yank myself out of his grasp. “How the fuck would I know? I have no idea how long we’ve been here.” Finn gives me a sharp look and I shrug. “It’s not like Kenny told me what the hell was going on or how many hours it has been since the last time his pet soldiers drugged me.”

  “Kenny took you,” he murmurs. “I thought so. I’ll kill him.”

  I smile, and his gaze shifts, just a little. Flares with a heat I don’t expect from him. Not here.

  “I need you to stay here,” he says softly. “I don’t want you exposed.”

  "Doesn't work that way, Finn," I say, and he sighs. "He's my brother."

  Finn frowns, and then he nods. "Fine. Don't do anything stupid, though. I'd hate to have gone through all this trouble just for you to get your pretty ass bitten."

  I grin--that is the Finn O'Malley I know and loathe. He pulls a knife and hands it back to me, and then pushes open the door.

  The stench of infection is a unique thing. It gets in the clothes and stings the inside of the nose, clinging to you, long after you've been cleaned and taken away from the source of the infection.

  But this is different. This is my brother who reeks of death and decay, the cloying sweet scent of warm, rotten meat. My stomach turns, and I struggle to keep from throwing up as the smell slaps me in the face, riding the wet heat from the room.

  Finn takes a cautious step into the room, and Collin stirs, turning toward us.

  I gag, and this time I do lose the battle. My stomach twists and cramps and I retch, bile and water splashing messily on the ground in front of me. I retch, my stomach heaving again, twisting my muscles until they ache and the back of my nose burns. A strong hand steadies on my back and I nod. I shove my hair back, forcing myself to straighten, my rebellious stomach to calm.

  “Who’s there?” Collin asks.

  His voice is wrecked, and he looks confused and angry and so very alien that I can’t help my tiny sob.

  “Ren?” he asks, and his voice is desperate and so sad I stumble forward, almost landing against the bed.

  Finn catches me, pulling me back.

  “What the hell are you doing in here, Ren? You’ll be infected. Get out.” Collin says, furiously.

  “Fuck you, Collin.” I sniffle. “Now shut up.”

  He laughs. Even like this, he can laugh. His eyes are black pools of murky infection, his face so distorted by the discolored veins it’s hard to see him. And still, he’s laughing, smiling for me in that twisted, broken face. “Why are you out of Containment? Silas told me you’d be locked up for a while. Until some priestess bitch named Lori got here.”

  “Lori isn’t coming,” Finn says, and Collin jerks hard enough in his restraints that they cut into his arms. “O’Malley?” he breathes, and Finn’s name sounds like a prayer on my brother’s lips.

  “Yeah, Collin. It’s me. Relax, brother, you’ll slip these restraints if you keep that shit up, and I won’t let you endanger her.”

  Collin sighs, and drops against the bed. His eyes close. Like that, without the black pools to distract me, I can almost see my brother again. “That’s good. This is good. Fuck, man, you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been?” Finn doesn’t say anything, and Collin nods. “Yeah. Of course you know. Do you know why I’m not dead?”

  “No, but it’s an excellent fucking question. Omar is with me, and he owes me a favor. I’m going to get you answers.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Collin says. “It’s too late. I can feel it, you know. They didn’t tell us that—but I can feel the infection. It doesn’t hurt. But I can feel myself change—and I don’t know what the hell I want. I want Ren.”

  I take a single step forward and Finn catches me, his hand like iron around my elbow. “No.”

  “O’Malley, he won’t hurt me. It’s Collin.”

  I can’t explain this. That Collin is my rock, my wall, the one safe thing in a world that has never been safe, the one place where I can set down my guns and shake my ass, be nothing more than an irritating kid sister. Collin is safe right now because Collin has never been anything but safe, and I can’t wrap my mind around him being anything else.

  “Finn,” Collin says, “you’ve got your gun.”

  Finn nods reluctantly, and I stare at them, refusing to process this exchange.

  “Then quit fucking worrying. You won’t let anything hurt her—not even me.” Collin’s smiling as he says it, and it makes me want to scream and sob.

  Finn lets out his breath, and shifts, cocking his gun and moving to stand near Collin’s head. His gaze darts to me. “Be careful, Nurrin. We don’t know how contagious it is.”

  I crouch next to Collin and his hand comes up, brushing my hair back. “You okay, sis?” he asks, his voice raspy.

  I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”

  He laughs. “We always knew it would happen eventually. Can’t live through the end of the world forever.”

  “We weren’t doing so bad,” I snap, angry at how fucking calm he is.

  “You need to trust Finn when I’m gone—he’ll look out for you.”
<
br />   I glance at Finn, standing stoic at my brother’s head, a gun nestled against Collin’s temple.

  “Finn doesn’t want to be saddled with taking care of me, Collin,” I say, and I see that strange flash of emotion in Finn’s eyes. The one that I don’t want to name because even thinking about it terrifies me. I glance back at Collin. “But I’ll be fine. I’m not going to die, just because you aren’t able to ask me about my weapons supply.”

  “I wanted to see you Walk,” he whispers, and tears flood my eyes. That stupid fucking plan. “You would have been a kickass Walker, sis.”

  “I would never have gotten though training.” I sniffle

  He laughs, and it turns into a cough, black, tarrish blood staining his lips. Finn tenses, and I ignore his order to stay back as I lean in and hug him. Because I don’t give a fuck, not right now. Not if I change. I only know that my brother is dying and I can’t stop it.

  “Ren. You will survive this. Do you hear me?” Collin whispers into my hair.

  I nod, even though I don’t believe him. I don’t know how to survive this.

  I don’t even know if I want to.

  Chapter 4.

  The Inbetween

  Omar finds us there. His eyes skate over me, and then to Finn. “All this and you let her hug an open infection? Idiot.”

  Finn throws the knife before I can blink and Omar ducks to one side, laughing as the blade embeds in the stone behind him.

  “Sloppy, O’Malley.”

  “Fuck you, priest,” Finn says.

  Collin is asleep—he passed out a few minutes earlier, in the middle of telling me how to survive alone and that the Havens were death traps. I couldn’t bring myself to move away from him, and Finn stood silent sentry over both of us.

  “We need to talk.” Omar says

  Finn nods, and glances at me. “She stays with me.”

  If that surprises anyone but me, no one shows it. Finn waits for me to push to my feet, and then nods at Collin. “Leave Holly here.”

  “You trust my people to watch your partner?” Omar says, his voice surprised and genuinely curious.

  Finn shakes his head. “No. But I know she’s in love with you and if anything happens to Collin while I’m gone, I’ll kill you.”

  The red-robed priestess’ eyes widen, and then narrow furiously and Finn smiles, tight and humorless.

  “Lead the way, High Priest.”

  I lean close to him as Omar steps out, and whisper, “What the hell, O’Malley?”

  He gives me a flat blank look. “No questions. Let’s go.”

  We’re back to this then. The momentary truce and understanding is gone.

  I pull back, and glare at him. "You can't do that shit anymore. You can't push me to the outside and expect me to be okay with it. You have no idea what the hell I've been through."

  His gaze tightens, furious. "I don't give a fuck what you've been through. Not right now. Right now, I need answers from Omar and the crazy bastards in charge of this hell hole, and then I need to get you as fucking far from here as I can. Do you understand? That is my goal. That's my only fucking goal, and I need you to shut the fuck up and keep the Order from remembering you. Do you think for five fucking minutes you could do what I need?"

  I glare, but I don't argue. I've spent long enough with Finn guarding my back to know he's not doing this to piss me off.

  I clench my teeth, and he nods, grabbing me and pulling me along behind him.

  Omar has commandeered Silas' little office, and the younger priest's eyes widen when he sees me. I lean into Finn. "I want him dead," I whisper, and across the little room, Omar laughs. Clearly I need to work on my whispering skills.

  "We'll do what we can to appease your bloodthirsty little savage, O'Malley. But she can't have all of my people." Omar's eyes skim me, and he gives me a slightly apologetic grimace. "I am sorry, Nurrin. This was never my intent. The alliance between Stiles and the Red High Priestess was beyond my influence."

  A hundred questions are on the tip of my tongue, but I slide a glance at Finn, and sit in the chair he nudges me toward. I expect him to take the one beside me, but he doesn't. He straightens, and I can feel his tension as he stands behind me.

  It's almost protective.

  "What the hell is happening to Collin?"

  Omar glances at Silas. The Black Priest frowns. "He arrived infected, which doesn't help us much. Ren proved pretty quickly that she would be difficult to acclimate. So we gave him to the Grays. They're working on a new serum—one of the CDC scientists said it would slow the infection. It's not a cure, but the medicine can slow it enough that the infected can live. Not well, and they'd need to be quarantined, but they don't change completely. They don't lose their brain function or bite."

  It's more than anyone has ever achieved. But I saw my brother, and I'm not under any delusions. Even with that minor miracle, it's not a life I would want to offer to anyone.

  “Living is more than not dying," Finn says, softly.

  Omar's gaze shifts to him, and I struggle not to squirm under his intense stare. "It's not meant for people who have been bitten. It's meant for soldiers who haven't."

  Finn slowly eases back a half step. "It prevents mutation. How?"

  "How the fuck would I know?" Silas snaps. "I'm not a fucking Gray. I just repeat the shit they tell me. If you wanted answers, maybe you shouldn't have fucking killed the entire fucking Outpost."

  I smirk at him, and snap my teeth. Silas hisses, and lurches forward. Finn's gun appears suddenly in my peripheral vision and I laugh, a dark noise even to my own ears.

  "Don't fucking think about it.” Finn says, his voice a tight warning, “I want a reason to kill you, but Omar wants you alive. If you don't want me to ignore that particular request, you sit back and keep your fucking eyes off her."

  The other man pales, but he does what he's told. Sits back slowly and swallows hard. "We don't get told what they're doing. And, Priest, I didn't know this First was under your protection. I would never have touched her if I had known. You know that."

  Omar frowns. "I don't know anything. I know that you were given care of the Firsts and you let one be beaten, drugged. Who the fuck knows what else.”

  I don't move. Can't move. Can't look at him, or Finn behind me, or anything but the rough weave of my borrowed robe.

  I know what else. I've woken up with the bruises, the wet evidence that made me throw up in fear and disgust, once the drugs wore off. I know the answer, but I never wanted Finn to. I never wanted him to see me as that weak. I swallow hard, swallow my tears and my fear. Finn breathes a soft curse, and then he's moving, and Silas screams. I look up, and see a knife sticking out of his shoulder. "You fucking bastard," Finn whispers, his voice so blank and emotionless it’s terrifying.

  "O'Malley," Omar snaps, "Not yet. We need answers first."

  Finn stops, and glares at Omar. The Black Priest lifts a hand. “When we have the information, I will stand aside, and you can let the girl kill him however she wants. Give her that vengeance. But first, we get answers.”

  I look up, and catch Silas’ gaze, terrified and beginning to understand how truly fucked he is. “I want his knife. I want to cut off every piece of him that could be used to hurt me, shatter his jaw so he can’t hurt anyone, and let the bastard change.” I murmur, my voice almost dreamy as I spin out his fate, and watch him pale.

  Finn glances back at me, and I see respect and dark approval in his eyes. He nods once and I straighten. “Will Collin die?” I ask abruptly. Fuck Finn and his stupid fucking rules about questions and what I shouldn’t be doing. This is the only question that matters to me right now.

  “Yes.” Silas says, softly.

  I knew it, and it still hurts, to hear it so bluntly stated. I lean forward, huddling in my robe, and avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.

  “We didn’t give him the drug before he was bitten. And we didn’t get him until almost 36 hours post infection. The Grays said that makes
a difference. We did what we could—bought him a week—but he’ll turn in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  “I need a few minutes, with Nurrin,” Finn says softly.

  “No,” I say. I shake my head. “I need to go to Collin.” “Nurrin,” he says, softly.

  “Fuck you, O’Malley,” I scream. “I want my fucking brother.”

  There’s a moment, long and tense and silent, and then the scrape of metal against metal as he slips his knife into its sheath. “This shit will need to wait, Omar. Keep that bastard alive, and find out whatever the hell you need to know before I’m allowed to kill him.” He grabs my arm, and pulls me up. “Come on, then.”

  Chapter 5.

  The Last of Us

  I don’t remember the hours. I don’t remember falling asleep with my head on Collin’s chest, or even Finn at Collin’s shoulder, always ready.

  What I remember is my brother’s laugh. The feel of his hand as it wrapped around my wrist, so familiar and perfect despite the ravages to his face and voice. I remember the way his voice rasped as he told me he loved me. That he was proud of me. I remember the black tar that stuck to my clothes. I remember the sharp smell of zom repellant, splashed around the room. I remember thinking I would never smell it again, without thinking of this.

  I remember the way he sounded, his breath shaking as he laughed at Finn. I remember when they both forgot me—or Finn allowed Collin too—and the whispered promises my brother extracted from his friend.

  I remember the way his grip tightened on mine, his body going tight and rigid.

  I will never forget the sound of Finn’s gun, so loud as it cut though my screams and severed Collin’s spinal column, killing the disease before it could change my brother.

  I will never forget my brother dying.

  Chapter 6.

  Fallout

  Finn is crouching in front of me. I can see the specks of black, tarry infection on his shirt, and it seems absurd. I don’t know why he’s staring at me like that.