The World Without End [Box Set]

by Nazarea Andrews

  “Do you think O’Malley will find what he’s looking for in Atlanta?”

  I glance at Lake, sitting on her bedroll as she pokes at an MRE.

  “Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Estep interjects. “The whole mission was designed to kill him. The Black Priest wants O’Malley dead.”

  “If that were true, he’d have killed him months ago,” I say absently. “The Priest has an agenda, and whatever it is, Finn is part of it. But he needed us out of the way for a while, and here we are.”

  “So you don’t think they’ll find anything at the CDC?”

  I laugh, “No. It’s a tombstone in a graveyard. And its twenty fucking years old—what the hell would they possibly find?”

  The unit is frowning, and I can feel their confusion. They wouldn’t understand—how could they, when I still don’t?

  I know him better than anyone, now that Collin is dead. And I still can’t puzzle through all of the mysteries and questions that are Finn O’Malley. And I’m slowly figuring out that it’s okay. I don’t need to, to trust him.

  “He’s not there to find something,” I say, because I have to explain this to them somehow. “He’s there to let go of something.”

  “What?” Mercy asks, curiously.

  I shift, and come to sit next to the others in a small semi-circle. Some secrets aren’t mine to giveaway, and those includes all of Finn’s.

  “You should ask him, when he comes back,” I say instead. There’s a beat of silence, and I take pity on them. “We all have a past,” I say softly. Greer shifts. He’s older than the rest of the unit, and I focus on him. “Where were you?”

  For a long moment he’s silent and then, “East Lansing. I was going to school at MSU.”

  “Did you lose someone in Atlanta?” I ask, curiously.

  “No. But my best friend was stationed at Camp Lejeune.”

  There’s a low whistle. I don’t say anything.

  Camp Lejeune wasn’t directly involved in the ground zero conflict. But it was close enough that it was almost worse—it handled the fallout.

  When society falls apart, the way ours did so completely, there is very little one base can do. Camp Lejeune was overrun by refugees from the south, and then the infected.

  It took two weeks for Camp Lejeune to fall, and it was bloody. No one knew what was going on, or how to fight back—or even that the disease was spreading every time the horde hit the massed army.

  When it finally fell, it was a complete loss—every solider and civilian refugee was counted a loss, and Camp Lejeune was abandoned.

  “We never found out how, but that’s where the infection took my first.”

  “I was four. We weren’t affected until the evac orders came in,” Mercy says softly.

  “My sister and her boyfriend were in Atlanta when it happened,” Estep says. “I was only four. Dad left as soon as the riots started, to bring them home. We didn’t see any of them again. Mom killed herself right after we were evac’d. The Haven took me into the orphanage. Grew up there. ”

  I breathe a curse. Four years old, and an orphan in a new Haven. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle any of us survived this long.

  An owl hoots in the distance, and I stiffen, sitting up. Some of the unit ignores me, still lost in the devastating memories. But some don’t.

  “Ma’am?”

  “When was the last time we saw wildlife?” I ask, casually.

  The circle of soldiers goes quiet, and I nod. “That’s what I thought. Don’t let them know we’re aware of them.”

  The unit is tense, and Jackson visibly jumps when a shrill whistle splits the gathering darkness.

  “Ma’am, we’re sitting ducks,” he says, plaintively.

  “And we’ll continue to be sitting ducks. Because they’ve been out there since we left Atlanta. And they haven’t attacked us. They’re not here to hurt us.”

  “Then what are they here for?” Este asks, curiously.

  I shrug, and lean back, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground and wishing we weren’t so fucking vulnerable here. “I guess we’ll find out when they introduce themselves.”

  Chapter 4.

  Eastern Strangers

  Mariah doesn’t come back. I think that worries the entire unit more than anything else. My eyes feel gritty from exhaustion by the time the sun begins to peek over the horizon, and I shake Greer awake.

  “Get them up. We’re going to find her.”

  A look of relief slips across his face, and I clutch his shoulder roughly before ducking away to pee.

  I fucking hate camp. If there is anything I miss about the Havens, it’s the fucking bathrooms. And showers. And beds.

  Fuck, I miss a lot of things. My brother. I miss him so damn much it hurts when I think about him. I try not to, and it makes me feel like a bitch when I realize I’ve gone five minutes without that constant bone deep ache.

  We do what we have to, to survive. Even if that means leaving our dead in the past long enough to breathe. Sometimes, that’s all survival is. Breathing, from one moment to the next.

  Finn says it’s more. It’s about living. That hiding behind the Haven walls isn’t living; it’s surviving. I don’t know if that’s fair, or if I even agree with him. But I get the idea. I get why he’s so adamant about it. I know what my brother would want for me.

  My choice.

  I sigh and shove the thoughts aside as I straighten.

  “Your people are getting ready to do something foolish.”

  The voice is raspy and accented funny, shaping the words in a way that is different from anything I’ve heard before.

  It’s a voice I’ve never heard, and I flush in anger. “Spying on me taking a piss is foolish.”

  There’s a soft scoff. “I don’t give a shite about that. I do care that your people are forming a war party.”

  “Where is our scout?”

  “The wee girl? Safe. Not smart to wander these woods alone—dangerous things here.”

  It’s my turn to snort. “We haven’t seen anything since we hit Atlanta.”

  “The dead zone is called that for a reason. Doesn’t mean it extends forever. We share the South with the biters. Now. Let’s see if you can’t talk sense into your people, before mine slaughter them.”

  I go still, rage whispering through me. I want to lash out, but I don’t even fucking see him. He could be a ghost, and lashing out doesn’t do anything.

  His tone is amused, and that annoys me even more. “Now, girl.”

  I snatch my bow from where it’s leaning against the crumbling wall of the rest stop, and stalk back to my unit.

  “Stand down,” I snap.

  Greer, shoving a punch dagger into his belt, freezes, and his eyes swing to me, wild and furious. “What the fuck, Nurrin?”

  “Shut up,” I order, “And stand the fuck down.”

  There is a slight rustle behind me and every inch of me tenses. I don’t like people at my back, and I sure as fuck don’t like it when it’s someone who threatens me.

  “Do as the lass ordered.” The rusty voice is back, and I can see the shock in my men’s eyes as they watch whoever is behind me. I grit my teeth and the man chuckles. Whistles shortly, and from everywhere, every-fucking-direction, they appear.

  Wild. Feral. Dangerous. The infected aren’t the only thing in the East that’s different. I watch them carefully as the strangers approach us in a smooth hunting glide. They’re all wearing rough, worn clothing that wasn’t made in any of the textile havens.

  They are so clearly other that it takes every ounce of will to not reach for my knife.

  Instead I turn to the leader, still standing at my back.

  And the world bottoms out.

  Chapter 5.

  Strange Man, Familiar Face

  “Finn?” I whisper, staring. My heart is pounding, so fast and hard it hurts, and I don’t know what to do—don’t know what to say or how to wrap myself around this new— “I don’t understand.”


  He blinks, and his head tilts slightly, eyes narrowed.

  “What matters?” I demand, suddenly and furiously. “What is the only thing that matters?”

  A frown is twisting features that are too familiar, and still different, and I want to throw up.

  “Right now, it’s getting away from this rest area before the biters get here. Get your gear and let’s move,” he says and the voice is warm, the reason it tickled at my brain clicking suddenly.

  He sounds and looks like Finn. Which is impossible. Because he isn’t—Finn would only ever answer that question one way, and he didn’t.

  I move without thinking, luging at the Finn-poser and slamming him into the brick wall. He makes a sharp noise as my punch dagger swings up and nestles at the base of his throat. I bare my teeth in the parody of a smile.

  Behind me, I can feel the movement of his people and mine, and I jerk, my dagger sinking in a hair’s breadth.

  “Hold,” he snarls, and immediately they fall still. His storm cloud gaze never leaves mine, and I want to claw his eyes out of his fucking face.

  Who the hell is he?

  “They’ll kill you,” he murmurs, and it’s said so simply I know it’s true. I’ve heard another voice state brutal truths in that same tone.

  “Not before I end you,” I snap.

  “Violent little thing, aren’t you?”

  I am. And I’m not boasting. His people might slaughter us for it, but it wouldn’t be before I killed him—I was trained by Finn O’Malley, and I’m damn good at killing. Not as good as Finn—no one is as good as Finn. Probably a good thing. Zombies are one thing, but Finn O’Malley in multiple would be a new breed of hell.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  His eyebrow arches lazily, and I want to smack that look off his face. “Don’t know that I want to be offering you more information, lass. Seeing as you attacked me without provocation.”

  The bolt comes from nowhere, a sharp twang registering as it slams into the brick next to his head. The Finn-poser’s gaze darts past me, sweeping the trees, and his lips pull back in a feral expression. It’s disturbing, so much so that I almost release him.

  Almost.

  “Answer the fucking question,” I snap.

  “Josiah,” he snaps. For some reason, that relaxes some of the tension coiling tighter in me—the name. Or the arrow. Either way, I relax a fraction. “Who the fuck do you have out there? We searched the area.”

  “Fuck you,” I say absently, and whistle shrilly.

  I know Finn and I know he’s coming slow and easy—he wouldn’t run into a hostile situation without taking the time to figure out the dynamics.

  But I see Josiah’s face when he registers Finn and Tuck and I see the flicker of doubt, the way his face pales and his eyes dart sideways, away from O’Malley. I mutter a curse, and fall back as Finn flanks me. I flick a glance at him and try not to let my panic show when I see him covered in black gore and blood. His gaze is fixed on the man in front of us, so I shove the questions aside for later.

  “Who are you?”

  “Josiah Flannery. Base commander of the Last Holdout.”

  “What the fuck is that?” I ask, shifting. My temper is riding a fine edge and I want to kill him. Cryptic half answers aren’t soothing it any.

  “Not the way this works. Give and take, lass. Tell me why you’re on the edge of the dead zone.”

  I hesitate. I want to look to Finn, but something tells me that’s not a good idea—not with this bastard watching.

  “Scouting. It occasionally happens.”

  He snorts, a low, disbelieving noise that reminds me that he might bear an eerie resemblance to Finn, but they are different.

  Finn would never make a noise like that.

  “We haven’t seen Haven scouts in four years. So, no—it doesn’t occasionally happen. You fled the East. You don’t get to decide now that the biters are going dormant you want it back”

  Finn shifts at my side, and his voice is tight. “What do you mean, about the infects?”

  “Dormant. The mutating t-gene won’t let them die. But they’re out of food. So they go dormant. Like bears in winter.”

  “Where is the Last Holdout?” I ask, and Josiah laughs, disbelieving.

  When I don’t share his amusement, his face empties. “What the bloody hell are you doing this far East if you aren’t headed for the Holdout? It’s fucking suicide.”

  A smirk turns my lips and I slide a glance at Finn. “Told you,” I mock and he gives me that empty stare I know so well. The one that tells me to shut the fuck up before he kicks my ass. I’ve never been very good at heeding those looks. “We’re here with a larger force,” I say.

  Josiah glances around and his gaze is amused when it returns to mine, “You’re very alone for a larger force.”

  I bite down on my response and Finn touches my hand, a barely there brush on the inside of my wrist that eases the tension gathering in me.

  He steps clear of me and nods at the men behind us. “Why are you taking them? We weren’t hostile—we’re just passing through.”

  Josiah shrugs. “There’s a balance to things here. We keep an eye on who is in the East to maintain that balance.”

  “And what was the plan with them? Kill them quick or take them back to your Holdout?”

  Josiah’s face empties, a smooth blank sheet, and I shiver. Finn curses softly.

  “We could break your hold,” he says. “We don’t have to submit to this.”

  “You could,” Josiah agrees. “But then what? My men pick you off in the forest. You die, and rile up the biters while you’re at it, and I’m left to clean up your mess.”

  Finn stares at him, and I almost feel bad for him—being on the receiving of that look sucks.

  “Nurrin. Take five minutes to pack. We’ll accompany Josiah and his men back to the Holdout.”

  I open my mouth to protest, to argue that the Order and army are waiting for us. Finn knows—and for whatever reason, he’s willing to walk away from the people who have the medicine I need to stay alive, if only for the moment.

  I might not understand why, but I know better than to argue.

  “Break camp,” I yell, and the unit dissolves into a flurry of activity.

  Chapter 6

  Strange Allies

  I don’t get a chance to talk to Finn privately until we make camp later that night. The unit is anxious and I’m in a shitty mood, snapping at every question. Josiah has settled in my bus while Finn and Tuck take the bikes, their engines a buzzing counterpart while Josiah’s gray gaze tracks my every move. He’s almost relaxed, watching with half-lidded eyes and a small smirk.

  After the first hour, most of the unit seems to forget him, resting against the pile of gear and quiet as they banter and clean their weapons or sleep.

  I don’t. I spent too many days and weeks with Finn O’Malley to be fooled by this man who wears his face and mannerisms. He’s watching us under those lazy eyes, and I don’t for one second believe that he misses anything.

  And there is the fact that he looks like a man who he had never met and even with my wild imagination, I can’t think of a logical reason for that.

  The sun is crawling toward the western horizon when I finally settle, and sink into a seat at the back of the bus. My fingers twitch against the strap wrapped around my knee, holding three short blades in place. “So why are you here?”

  I look up slowly, my gaze crawling over him. I still have that feeling, the one that screams wrong. Other. I shove down my unease and shrug. “Told you. We’re part of a larger force.”

  “Then why were you in the dead zone? Your force isn’t.”

  I hesitate for a moment, and then shrug. It won’t hurt. “You said your infects are dormant. In the West, they’re changing. We were looking for reasons why.”

  His gaze narrows a little. “Looking?”

  “The CDC,” I answer shortly, and something flashes in those too-familiar eyes,
there and gone too quickly for me to read.

  He nods and looks away, examining the barren land we’re passing for a long minute. “Did you find anything?”

  I don’t respond, and a smirk turns his lips.

  “Who is he?”

  My breath catches, and I look away. “Finn. That’s what you called me, when you first saw me. Pretty clear why you were confused. So who is he?”

  I wait until his eyes find mine, and I smile, and say, softly, “He’s the only person who matters.”

  It doesn’t matter that the answer confuses him. That his gaze turns questioning—it’s the truth.

  I have no idea what we’re about to walk into, what the Holdout is, or when we’ll reconnect with Omar.

  The virus is in my blood. It’s what we aren’t saying—none of Finn’s unit has breathed a word about it since Josiah and his people appeared from thin air. It’s being held back—but for how long? Without the medicine the Priest controls—

  I shove that thought aside and glance at my map again.

  “There’s a lake, about thirty minutes south of here. We should stop there.”

  I bristle, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not trying to trap you, Nurrin. I’ve already got what I want. But the Holdout has a base camp there. We keep it clear and supplied. It’s fresh, clean water—we won’t find much of that the farther south we go. I want to get home alive. Let me help you.”

  I give him a hard stare and then flick a look at Mariah. “Flag him.”

  She nods and swerves the bus, just enough to get Finn’s attention. Stomps on the brakes twice and he revs his bike in response. I swing my legs up into my bunk and close my eye.

  “Give Mariah directions, Josiah. And if you fuck us over, know that nothing will keep me and Finn from killing you. I don’t care what it costs us—I’ve looked at death before and frankly, you aren’t that fucking impressive.”

  I feel his gaze on me for a moment and then a soft breath of laughter, so unlike O’Malley I almost look at him, just to see what Finn would look like, wearing amusement. I don’t. Whatever I want to believe, whatever he might look like, Josiah isn’t Finn.