The World Without End [Box Set]

by Nazarea Andrews

  How the fuck did this happen?

  I break clear of the buildings, and in front of me, an eternity of ocean stretches out.

  I want to dive into it, and swim until I can't anymore, then drift into nothing.

  It's a fucking death sentence, because no one can swim a fucking ocean, and I still want it fiercely enough that I take the half-step toward the water before a hand lands on my arm, jerking me still. I stare at her, my eyes wide and almost unseeing. She's staring, worry in her familiar green eyes that makes me laugh, a little hysterically.

  “Talk to me,” she orders, and it shakes me back to sense. I pull away, and see the acceptance in her eyes. New, that. I file it away for later contemplation.

  “Don’t you ever want to leave? Leave it all behind and find a new life, somewhere else. Anywhere else?” I ask, and I can feel the startle of surprise that goes through her.

  She’s quiet, and then, tentatively, “Finn?”

  “She should be dead. I've spent twenty years knowing she died in Atlanta, the victim of Andrew's bombs. I grieved her, and grew up alone. Da was too busy to have time for me, and Mum was dead. It's why Kelsey was so fucking important. Because at the end of the day, all we had was each other.”

  Nurrin's eyes are wide startled, and I know that I'm shocking her with this rare honesty, the kind I never share with her. She blinks, locks it away, and takes a breath. “What do you want to do?”

  “I can't face her,” I say, and it stings a little.

  I haven't run from anything, not since Kelsey died.

  “Then we won't. Let's go see the mad priest.”

  She doesn't reach for me, and I stare at the water, the waves restless against the shore, for a long moment, as the fucking panic recedes. Until my heartbeat settles. And then I flank her and we go see the Priest.

  Chapter 3.

  Disorder Within the Ranks

  Omar’s army is encamped a mile outside the Holdout walls, spread across a marshy plain. And getting out of the Holdout is easy, much easier than getting in. We’re quiet as we walk. I don't recognize the recruit on watch when we approach, but he recognizes us.

  I suppose most of them would. Nurrin is distinct with her bright eyes and her long blonde hair so often pulled into a ponytail.

  I remember suddenly, a time I saw her in 8. She didn't realize I was watching, and was spitting mad as she sprinted along the wall. One of the Walkers had yelled at her, and she had flipped him off as she continued to jog, all lean limbs and fierce expression and thrashing blonde hair getting fucking everywhere.

  It was one of the first times I saw her wear it up, and I remember thinking that it transformed her. A beautiful girl made fucking flawless, going from sweet to untouchable, soft to deadly.

  Then she wrinkled her nose and ruined it.

  She’s grown into that look now.

  Word ripples out as we stalk through camp, and I see when the pet approaches. I'm only a little annoyed.

  “Ren!” Ethan shouts, and her head snaps up, a smile blossoming. He snatches her into a hug, and I can hear his voice, muffled in her hair. “You fucking idiot went and got picked up by the locals. Only you. I've been out of my mind."

  I make a low noise in my throat, and Ethan lifts his head, giving me a fierce glare as Nurrin wiggles to get out of his rough embrace. “She was with me. There was no need to worry."

  Ethan makes a low, dismissive noise, and fixes his stare on Nurrin. “The Priest is furious.”

  “Why?” we ask and she shoots me a startled look.

  “You both slipped his leash. We kept your disappearance under wraps for that entire first day.”

  She grins and nods. “Good. And the unit? Any casualties?”

  “We're good.”

  Relief makes her shoulders wilt but she nods, and refocuses on me. “Ready?”

  I nod and we push deeper into the camp. She's relaxed, somewhat. A tension I hadn't realized she'd been carrying has drained away.

  Until we step into the Priest's tent.

  Omar is speaking—shouting—when we enter, and there is a split-second where he continues. But Holly's wide-eyed hopeful stare makes him turn.

  I see rage flare in his gaze for a moment, and then he lunges.

  At Nurrin.

  He slams into her and she makes a little choked noise, a half there scream as he pushes her down, pinning her to the table, a bug splayed across maps and weapons.

  "What the fuck are you doing alive?" he snarls, leaning down, into her space.

  I move without thinking, my sword free and swinging through the air before I even realize I'm reaching for it. The blade is shoved up against Omar's throat before his pet soldiers have time to draw, and he goes stiff and still for a heartbeat.

  “Get your fucking hands off her,” I say, so softly.

  He straightens slowly, and twists, his neck pushing against my blade until it slices just a little, a red line snaking down the silver metal.

  “Will you kill me now? You've wanted to for so long, O'Malley. Is now the day?”

  “If you don't get your fucking hands off of her, yes. It will be. And fuck the consequences,” I say, my voice even.

  Omar stares for a moment, and then he laughs and his hands slip from where they've been wrapped around her neck. She coughs and I stand there, the sword still pushed against his throat as Nurrin rolls off the table and comes to my side.

  Her throat is red—she'll have bruises in the shape of his big hands.

  The thought makes me see red, and I push slightly, just a hair’s breadth of pressure.

  He laughs again, and I let out the breath I'm holding, stepping back.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m here because of him. He’s here because of me. I wasn’t going to allow him to go to Atlanta alone,” she says, and Omar makes a soft grunt.

  “Did you find anything?”

  At the CDC? “No,” I answer shortly. “But you knew I wouldn’t.”

  He shrugs, and Lori steps forward. “You’ve been inside their settlement.”

  I nod once. “They’re different. And their infected are different—and they know why.”

  Her eyes are bright with that creepy as fuck religious fervor that makes my stomach turn. “Will they tell you? Do they trust you?”

  I weigh the question, considering it.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 4.

  Bonding over Blood

  I’m on the beach again, alone this time. Leaving Nurrin should get easier each time, and in a place like this, where I know she’s safe.

  It doesn’t. I’m coming to realize that it never will.

  I don’t have to wait long, standing on the beach, kicking sand and watching the water.

  “You made quite an impression, especially with that exit.”

  It takes every ounce of willpower to keep my hands from moving instinctively for my weapons. He is too familiar, and too unknown, for me to ever trust. But I can use him.

  “Sorry,” I say unapologetically.

  Josiah stares at me silently for a long moment and then shakes his head. “No, you aren’t. So. Tell me. What the hell are you doing here? Who the fuck are you?”

  I laugh, a noise that sounds as bitter as it tastes. “Why the fuck do people ask me that? It doesn’t matter.”

  “Our scientist knows you by name. A man she could not have seen since before the fall. You called her mother. So I would say that’s bullshit, and that you know it.”

  My blood is boiling but I can’t argue with that. We both know it’s the truth.

  “Do you have any infects we can clear?” I ask abruptly. He blinks, startled, and I make a vague motion with one hand. “I’m not good at talking. I am good at killing. Let me do that.”

  “The precept.”

  “You aren’t here to follow the precept. You’re here to keep the Holdout safe. Surely somewhere along your border, some infect is threatening it.”

  A look of indecision flickers in his eyes
for a minute, and then he makes a low noise. “Come on. And stay quiet for fuck’s sake.”

  I grin, and follow him to down the beach. A few of his soldiers see us, but no one offers any word to stop us.

  Josiah’s people are well-trained and very loyal, it would appear.

  Then I hear it—a noise that is instantly familiar.

  I never fucking thought that hearing the dead scream would make me feel better.

  But this is where I’ve always been the very best. Because the dead ask no questions, demand no answers. The exchange with them is easy—kill or be killed.

  My blade hisses slightly as I pull my sword free and Josiah glances at me.

  I give him a Mad Hatter smile, and the zombies scream, lunging out of the darkness and onto the beach. And with this stranger at my side, I surrender to the siren song of oblivion found in killing.

  He’s good at it—keeps perfect pace, falling into a natural rhythm as we slice through the zombies. And as much as I dislike admitting it, he’s almost as good with his long knives as I am with my sword. He twists to meet their attacks when they get past my sword and lets me handle the screamers before they get too close. I swing, smooth as butter, and a head spins into the air, landing with a splash in the ocean. It’s working, and the dead are falling around us, but they’re still coming and we’re losing ground.

  “Josiah,” I snarl.

  He doesn’t respond, sliding under my guard to slam the blade through the eye socket of one who breaks from the pack to charge us, teeth snapping.

  “The water fucks them up,” he answers as the blade slides in, and the infect goes limp and drops. “We want to let them have the beach.”

  They’re milling slower, uncertain.

  I’ve always known infected don’t like water—fuck, that’s why Ren and I got trapped on that damn boat—but I never realized how much it could slow them.

  A scream jerks me out of my thoughts, and Josiah grins at me. “Stay with me, O’Malley.”

  Fuck that. I shove the kid back a step and drop the infect lunging toward us with a smooth stroke that splits his head in two. “You stay with me,” I snap.

  He laughs, and that mixes with screams and the soft song of my sword as I kill.

  Chapter 5.

  The Boy Soldier

  “You don’t talk much,” Josiah says, later. I’ve just emerged from the ocean, dripping and mostly naked, and his gaze is sharp, friendly but probing.

  “It gets old, lying. And no one wants to hear my truth.”

  He gives a grim smile. “Being the one to protect your people from the ugly truth doesn’t always win you popularity contests.”

  I side-eye him. He’s leaning back, hands at his side, a loose smile on his face, and I wonder what he’s seen. How he’s managed to stay so fucking optimistic in the face of it. Because being the military commander of this place, in a community this size—he’s seen hell. There’s no way to avoid it.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I demand, and he smirks, lazy and arrogant.

  “I’m the base commander. Child of the apocalypse. Nothing more or less.”

  I shake my head. “There is always more.”

  He shrugs, not arguing with my assessment. “She wants you.”

  “Ren comes as well,” I say immediately. I knew the summons was coming—I’m only surprised that Josiah ignored his orders long enough to let me work off some of my aggression.

  Or perhaps I’m not. I wouldn’t take a violent temper waiting to explode to someone I cared about either.

  “Your girl is already there,” he says, and I swing a furious look at him. His face is blank now, and I nod.

  “Let’s go.”

  He leads me to where a four-wheeler sits and I give him a flat stare. He swings onto it and shrugs. “The doc doesn’t live close to the beach. She likes her seclusion. So get over whatever you’re thinking and let’s go.”

  She always loved her seclusion.

  I shove the memories down and swing onto the damn ATV and he guns the engine. It’s too dark to see much beyond the city as it blurs past us, and the sound of the water against the shore fades to a distant roar.

  It reminds me of home, sitting in the garden with Uncle Keifer while Mother muttered over research and nibbled on burnt biscuits.

  The ATV is slowing, and I blink out of my memories to study the dark house.

  It’s on a narrow road, alone. Small and unassuming, with a small bit of light spilling from one window. A small, practical, covered porch that is crowded with potted plants and a single straight-backed chair.

  She never had any use for frivolities. The chair is so damnably practical.

  “How long has she been here?” I ask, and Josiah stills, his foot on the first step. He glances at me, and then climbs the stairs.

  “She helped found the Holdout. She’s been here since the very beginning.”

  Chapter 6.

  The Past That Divides

  I follow Josiah into the house and I’m greeted with a sight I never thought would happen—Nurrin is perched on the edge of a faded blue couch, her foot bobbing restlessly as she clutches a chipped cup of murky tea.

  My mother sits across from her in a plain wooden chair, her legs crossed neatly, fingers toying with a long loop of black beads.

  They both turn when the door opens, and Sylvia’s expression eases into a smile when she sees Josiah. Nurrin jerks out of her seat when I enter behind him, her eyes wide with relief and questions. I give a minute shake of my head and she eases back into her seat, a patient expression settling over her.

  Good girl.

  I look at Sylvia. “Explain how the fuck you’re alive,” I say, without preamble.

  “Finn,” Nurrin hisses, but Sylvia just smiles.

  “You’ve grown quite tall. And the mouth on you,” Sylvia says, shaking her head slightly.

  “We aren’t fucking doing that. No walk down memory lane. You explain what you’re doing alive and here. Tell me how to keep the Havens alive. And we go our merry fucking ways.”

  She frowns, a tiny thing that bugs me a little. I don’t like disappointing her, even if it’s completely unreasonable to think I would want anything more than information and a one way ticket back to the West.

  “We got word the bombs were coming. Your Da managed to get a call to me in the confusion. The CDC had a few helicopters on the ground, but it wasn’t enough to evacuate everyone. Boyd knew I was at the CDC—the UK embassy was keeping tabs on me. You know they did that.”

  They did. The UK government was intensely aware of one of their most prodigious scientists and her increasing interaction with the United Sates military.

  “He got me out. And then it was chaos and trying to stay alive. I tried to contact your father, but the bombs changed everything—the horde grew so quickly, and communicating was virtually impossible. The only thing that mattered was staying alive. Florida got cut off, with the fallout spreading. So we fell back, and we kept the people we could alive.”

  “Why didn’t you leave with the evac orders?”

  She gives me a small smile. “Those were for the living and the legal citizens. A woman from Scotland with no papers wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “You could have told anyone who you were, and you’d have been—”

  “Killed. During the Turn? Don’t be daft, Finn. You are the plague-bringer’s son, and everyone needed to blame someone in those days. I was that someone. You and I both know it. I kept it to myself, stayed alive and started working. I created this mess. I would do everything I could to end it.”

  “And fuck the son and husband you left behind, right?” I say, soft and bitter. She doesn’t react at all, just stares at me with that patient, sad stare.

  “Finn,” she says.

  “Who is Josiah?”

  Anger flares in her eyes, and she pulls back a little. I push. “He looks like me, Mother. And he’s young—born after the change. Who is he?”

  “O’Malley,” Nurrin
says, her voice warning.

  “I’m her son.” Josiah says, and I go still, everything in me rejecting the truth I knew was coming. “That’s what you want to hear. It’s the truth. I was raised by Bishop because no one thought being raised by Sylvia was a good idea.”

  She flinches, a tiny motion, and I look away. “Why?” I whisper.

  “Because they tolerate me. Some even might like me. But no one is stupid enough to forget I am the creator of Synthrix. ERI-Milan would never have happened without me.”

  “We thought you were dead.”

  She stares at me. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head, and turn. “You don’t need to be anything. I’m not here for you. You being here changes nothing. We’re still here for answers.”

  “I can’t help you,” she says, quietly, and Nurrin makes a soft noise. She pushes up against me, and her breath is hot on my shoulder as I realize I’m straining against her hold.

  “You’re fucking lying,” I snarl.

  “Finn,” Nurrin snaps, “back off.”

  I glare at her, and she shoves me, hard enough that I stumble back a step. “Growing fangs, little girl,” I taunt.

  “Shut the fuck up. You aren’t helping anything.”

  She’s spitting mad, her eyes dark and furious, her shoulders bunched for a fight, but her voice is easy when she turns back to Sylvia. “We’re here. The longer we’re here, the longer the infected will be an ongoing threat. You know more about the virus than anyone—and if you don’t help us, Havens will continue to fall. People will continue to die until you really are the last holdout, the only fucking thing left. You think about that shit, and decide if it’s something you can live with.”

  Sylvia laughs and it’s a cold, bitter fucking noise. “Child, I’ve lived twenty years with the deaths of millions. With the death of my son. You will be very surprised by what I can live with.”

  “Sylvia,” Josiah says, startled, “what about your precept?”

  “We can’t save the entire world, Siah. And the West forgot us. For ten fucking years, we’ve been left here. Now that they’re dying, they want help?” She makes a dismissive noise and my blood boils.