by Tarah Benner
I steered him down the hallway to the correct room and knocked softly.
The door flew open almost instantly, and Mrs. Frey’s eyes filled with tears.
Before she could close the small distance between them, Dani flew into Greyson’s chest like a cannon. He looked good-naturedly winded in a big-brother sort of way, and his mom reached forward to wrap her arms around him.
They stood like that for a while: Dani’s skinny arms wrapped around Greyson’s waist, and his mother enveloping them both, stroking Greyson’s hair and sobbing quietly.
I tiptoed down the hallway to leave them on their own. Greyson was in good hands now.
I let myself into Amory’s room and was surprised to find him sitting up in bed, leafing through a John Grisham novel. He jumped a little when he heard me come in but gave a small smile. There was an odd strain to the corners of his mouth I’d never seen before, and a wave of dread washed over me.
“Shriver brought me this when she came to check on my wound,” he said, holding up the book. “She also said that painkillers are being rationed, so she can no longer allow my ‘recreational use’ of oxycodone now that I’m starting to recover.”
I laughed. “That sounds like Shriver.”
“She also told me what happened to Logan,” he said quietly. “How she died.”
My breath caught in my chest. “I’m sorry. I should have been the one to tell you.”
Amory sighed. “It’s okay. I’ve been really out of it.”
I gave a shaky nod and sank down on the edge of his bed. Amory’s eyebrows drew together, and he held out his good arm expectantly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I climbed gratefully over to him, settling in the crook of his arm and breathing in the warm, woodsy smell of him. Somehow, the hospital antiseptic and the stale, smoky odor of the hotel room could not mask his true smell.
Maybe I didn’t have the right to be happy after everything that had happened, but in that moment, I was so thankful for him. I squeezed him tighter and buried my face in his good shoulder, trying to memorize every curve of his chest.
Sometimes I didn’t feel as though I deserved Amory.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I thought you would blame me. I know I do.”
“What?” His grip tightened around me. “No. No, of course not. Not ever.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I just . . . I-I should never have trusted Mariah. All she’s ever done is lie, and in the end, she even lied to herself. I believed her, and I shouldn’t have.”
“No. Haven, no.” He gave me a little shake. “Look at it this way: Logan knew her better than anyone, but Logan believed her.”
I shook my head, fighting the tears threatening to burst. “It doesn’t matter. Logan’s gone now.” I drew in a ragged breath. “I won’t ever see her again.”
Then, strangely, I felt a rumble of laughter.
It started low in Amory’s chest and burst forth from his lips. He squeezed me as his chest shook, and I jerked around in his arms, worried that he’d completely lost his mind.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I blame the painkillers for the insensitive laughter, but . . .” Amory’s eyes crinkled, and I could tell this smile was real. “Sorry, I just don’t believe that for a second.”
I must have looked confused, because Amory continued. “Logan was so . . . feisty. I think I’ll probably see her all the time. Even when she was alive, it was like she was in my head . . . like my annoying, violent conscience.
“Any time I would pick out something to wear, I’d hear Logan making some snide remark. When I’d shoot, I could practically hear her scoffing behind me like she could do better. It’s like she was arguing with me before I even made a decision.”
Amory was smiling, and I realized I was, too. He was right. Logan wouldn’t fade away that easily. She refused to be ignored.
We sat like that for a while, both of us remembering Logan. We talked about her and Godfrey and Kinsley, and I finally let myself cry. Amory didn’t mind that my tears soaked the shoulder of his T-shirt. He just held me tighter.
I told him about Greyson’s mom and sister, and we speculated about what Ida might be doing and how long we thought the revolution would last.
It felt good to talk to him. I needed Amory now more than ever. After absorbing Greyson’s grief all week, I needed someone to absorb some of mine.
Soon I felt the exhaustion taking hold, lulled by the steady fall of rain against the window and the warmth of Amory’s arms around me.
Before I drifted off, I remembered I still had a promise to fulfill. I had no idea how I would find Logan’s family after the New Northern Territory fell. They would be refugees, and it was possible they’d be staying under some alias as Greyson’s mom had been.
I found I didn’t care how difficult it was or how long it would take. We would find them — at least we had to try.
With or without the revolution, I needed something to fight for.
Epilogue
Three months later.
The farmhouse was empty for the first time in weeks. We’d spent the spring rebuilding, and the farm was once again home to former rebels and commune dwellers passing through. People were migrating back to the states — returning to their former homes to rebuild their lives.
I was making lunch for Greyson and Amory, who’d been working to fix the flower bed in front of the porch, the last remaining indication that the farm had been bombed.
As I shoved the lunch meat and mayonnaise back into the fridge, my thumb brushed the school picture of a little boy with bright blond hair and vibrant green eyes.
Eight years old with skinned knees and an obsession with dinosaurs, Sebastian was a spitting image of Logan. Even the way he moved — graceful, confident, and hell on wheels — made my heart hurt remembering her.
It had been my mission to find Logan’s family and tell them that her last thoughts had been to make sure they were safe. But now that I’d found them, putting their lives back together in Logan’s childhood home, I was faced with the reality that the revolution was finally over.
“You’re deep in thought,” said Amory.
I jumped. He was leaning against the doorframe wearing shorts and a T-shirt that was soaked with sweat. His hair was a little longer than it had been during the revolution, and it stuck to his damp forehead and neck. Even sweaty, he was beautiful.
“Just thinking about what happens when Ida comes back . . . after everything is settled.”
Ida had been busy helping refugees in the New Northern Territory, and Shriver and Roman had been away for a month curing the infected and rounding up the carriers who’d already turned. Tonight, they were all returning to the farm.
“Everything’s going to be different now.” I was trying to sound casual, but Amory heard the panic in my voice.
His eyebrows came together in concern, and he crossed the room to close the space between us. He drew me into him with a hand on my waist and buried his face in my neck.
“Hey, don’t worry.”
I leaned against him and felt myself relax a little. I couldn’t go back to my old life, where I’d be forced to face everything that had happened in the last year.
“Whatever happens . . . we’ll stay together,” Amory whispered, his warm breath tickling my neck.
My heart flipped over twice. He hadn’t said that before.
He drew in a shaky breath. “If you want me, I mean.”
I pushed him away a little so I could see his face. “Of course I do.”
His gray eyes warmed as he smiled, and I felt the heat burning low in my stomach, spreading to all my extremities. He cupped his hands around my neck, tilting my head back so his warm lips could reach the spot where my pulse was pushing against my skin.
“Whoa. Please contain that,” said Greyson from the doorway.
We sprang apart like magnets, and Greyson inched between us to grab one of the sandwiches. He
stuffed it in his mouth and fumbled in the fridge for a bottle of water.
“Come on,” he said through a mouthful of mayo. “Ida will be here soon.”
I scooped up the rest of the sandwiches and followed him outside. Taking in the view of my vegetable crops, the chickens pecking lazily at the dirt, and the freshly transplanted impatiens in the flower bed, I had to admit that we had done a pretty good job returning the farm to its former glory. It was easy to forget that the rest of the country was still struggling, people had been displaced, and entire cities had been reduced to rubble.
We walked over to the spot in the yard overlooking the fields, and Greyson flung himself down in the grass. I blushed and avoided Amory’s gaze when I recalled our last encounter here. There was little need for a nightly carrier watch anymore, but whenever I couldn’t sleep, I’d often find Amory out here sitting in the spot where I’d first told him I remembered him.
“What do you suppose will happen now?” Greyson asked. He was staring off across the field, but I could tell there was some weight to his question.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I don’t want to go back. I can’t just go to school and pretend everything’s fine.”
Greyson looked at me quickly. I expected to see surprise on his face, but his expression mirrored the way I felt. “I know what you mean.”
Amory cleared his throat, and I knew it was time to change the subject.
We rarely talked about what would happen when the dust settled. The last three months had been complete chaos as the U.S. government found its footing and rounded up anyone who had taken part in the PMC’s atrocities.
Amory’s father was being tried for treason and crimes against humanity. He would likely spend the rest of his life in prison. Amory said it was what his father deserved, and maybe it was, but I still knew it bothered him.
A crunch of gravel stole my attention, and the three of us jumped to our feet and craned our necks to get the first look at Ida’s dirty turquoise pickup truck. Through the windshield, I saw her eyes grow wide with excitement as they landed on us, and she swerved to a stop and jumped out of the car with a motherly squeal.
Even in June, she still wore one of her long, sweeping skirts under a flowing orange tunic. Her waist-length blond hair was nearly pure white from the sun.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said as she crushed me against her chest.
“Oh my goodness! You look more beautiful than ever.”
She pulled Amory and Greyson into her, and the sunburnt lines on her face rumpled with happiness.
When she pulled away, I watched her take in the new barn, the roof we’d repaired, and the fresh black dirt in the flower bed. Her eyes filled with tears.
“It’s not quite back to normal yet,” I said nervously. “We did the best we could to make repairs, but the barn and the guest house were both completely destroyed in the bombing.”
She turned and fixed me with a watery stare. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Later that night, Amory and Ida prepared a celebratory feast.
It made my heart swell to see them tripping over each other in the tiny kitchen. The rolls were a little burnt, and the green beans were mushy, but sitting at the dining room table with Amory to my left and Greyson and Ida across from me, I didn’t think I’d ever tasted anything better.
I had just put a pot of coffee on when I saw the flash of headlights from the kitchen window. Ida squealed and got up from the table to greet Roman and Shriver.
I didn’t know why, but I was nervous to see them — maybe because once they were back, reality would set in. Amory appeared behind me and put a reassuring arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward the hallway to greet them.
Roman was towering over Shriver in the doorway. I’d forgotten how massive he was, but judging by how his T-shirt hung off his frame, he’d lost a lot of weight during his recovery.
His arms bore several new scars, but his eyes had returned to their normal color. They met mine and Amory’s over Ida’s head, and he nodded to us, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
Amory stiffened next to me, and I wanted to laugh. It was the friendliest greeting we’d ever gotten from Roman.
He allowed Ida to steer him into his usual chair in the dining room and interrogate him about what he and Shriver had been up to.
They’d been hunting down carriers Van Helsing–style. Only, instead of killing them, they were curing the ones they could. Those who were beyond saving were relocated to the North Cascades National Park, where nearly eight hundred miles of wilderness and plenty of natural predators could, in theory, keep them contained.
Something about the way Roman indulged Ida’s curiosity made me realize how much he’d changed. He was no longer moody and withdrawn. I realized he was grateful to be alive.
Occasionally, Shriver would smile up at him as though they shared a private joke, and he threw his head back to laugh when she finished a funny story. A full-body laugh from Roman was something I’d never seen, and it made me inexplicably happy.
Roman talked about wanting to join the military when it was all over so he could help round up PMC who were still in hiding, and I cringed internally as the discussion turned to planning.
“What about you, Haven?” Shriver asked.
My faced burned. I didn’t want to say I didn’t have a plan. It felt like admitting I wasn’t strong enough to face real life.
There was a long, awkward pause, and I could feel Amory’s eyes on me. But then, like always, Ida came to the rescue.
“Actually, I was hoping Haven might help me with something,” she said. “And Greyson and Amory, if they’re up for it.”
“What is it?” I asked, my stomach filling with dread. I didn’t want to go back to the New Northern Territory to help the refugees. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the border.
“I was hoping we might keep the farm open as a safe house for a while longer.”
Her voice was casual, as if she were merely voicing a passing thought, but my heart fluttered with hope.
“There are still so many displaced commune dwellers who will need to make their way back to their homes. I’d like to help them if we could, but I’ll understand if —”
“I’d love to,” I said.
“Me too,” said Greyson through a mouthful of food.
“Count me in,” said Amory, reaching for my hand under the table. My chest filled with warmth, and I returned his gentle pressure with a squeeze.
Ida beamed. “Wonderful! I knew I could count on you three.”
As Amory held my hand, I allowed myself to soak up Ida’s words.
I didn’t have to leave. I could stay at the farm with Amory and Greyson.
I fought back the tears that threatened to make an appearance. It was as if Ida had sensed without ever asking what I wanted most of all: a home.
As Ida poured everyone a second cup of coffee, Roman leaned in briefly and touched his lips to Shriver’s brow. I watched Amory and Greyson exchange a look of shock, and Greyson put his cup to his lips to hide the grin that was spreading across his face.
Amory’s fingers were tracing soothing circles on my knee, and I resisted the urge to knock over my chair and drag him upstairs.
Usually, all I wanted was him. With Amory, I didn’t have to pretend everything was all right. We understood each other perfectly. But tonight, everything felt as though it was all right, and I wanted to soak it in just a little bit longer — all of us, here, together.
I didn’t know what next year would be like, or even tomorrow. I found I didn’t care. The only things that mattered had fallen into place, and that was good enough for me.
Finally, everyone I loved was safe.
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Tarah Benner, The Last Uprising (Defectors Trilogy)