by M. A. Phipps
All I feel is his blood as it spatters my face.
With Jenner gone, the screams return full volume. I grab at my ears to block them out and clamp my eyes shut as my body crouches to the ground. I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to see them die.
This isn't real, I tell myself. This isn't happening.
Please let this never happen.
Please make this end.
As if answering my silent prayers, the screams abruptly stop. My lips tremble as I open my eyes only to find that I’m alone again. No one is screaming. No one is dying. Blood no longer stains the ground.
A heavy sigh of relief expels from my lungs and the back of my hand trails across my sweaty brow. I regret my previous desire to sleep, now wanting nothing more than to wake from this nightmare.
I lift my eyes in a desperate attempt to wake up, ready to face reality once more. But when I do, I find that the nightmare hasn’t ended.
It’s only just beginning.
I’m still here. I’m still in it, standing face-to-face with the one person who was missing before.
Ezra.
It only takes a moment for me to recognize this scene.
Moisture floods his hazel eyes as he stares back at me with a sadness that nearly destroys me. My heart swells at the very sight of him, but in spite of the raging urge in the pit of my stomach, I refrain from moving closer—remembering all too vividly what happened with Jenner.
A single tear spills over as his lips part. “I’m sorry, Wynter,” he whispers.
This is where the vision always ends, just after he says these words. This time it’s different. This time, it doesn’t end.
This time, it aims to truly hurt me.
My eyes widen. My hands reach out to him, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“No, no, no!” I cry.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t scream. He simply sheds those familiar silent tears as death begins to take him, one molecule at a time. It starts at his face, his skin flecking away as his entire body slowly disintegrates into dust.
The acceptance in his eyes is what completely undoes me.
I try to run to him—to stop this from happening—but I’m held back by the dream or whatever force is determined to see me suffer. Eventually, there’s nothing left to stop. All that’s left is a pile of ash, which is then carried away from me by the apocalyptic breeze.
I stare at where he stood only moments earlier, my entire body shaking in both horror and disbelief.
No, I tell myself. It can’t end like this. I can’t let this happen.
I wake up to the deafening sound of my own high-pitched screams. They reverberate through the room, causing me to bolt upright—my lungs fighting for oxygen as sweat beads along my skin. The cool air nips at my exposed chest as the sheets crumple around my waist.
I lean forward and rest my face in my hands, terrified by what I’ve seen. Was it a dream that I just experienced . . . or a vision?
It takes everything I have to choke down the fear that threatens to consume me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to find a clue somewhere that will tell me I was only dreaming. I had to have been. Otherwise . . .
I shake my head. I can’t handle it. I can’t cope with the reality that awaits me if I wasn’t. Because if that was actually a vision and not a dream—not a nightmare—then that means what I saw will eventually happen.
One way or another.
No matter what.
What’s worse is the realization that I will be the one to cause it. Not just the end of the world, but their deaths. All of them.
Just as I feared . . .
I will be the one to kill them.
I SWING MY LEGS OVER the side of the bed. Tremors run across my entire body, but it isn’t the temperature having this effect on me. It’s my fear. It’s the possibility staring me in the face.
It could’ve just been a dream, I remind myself. Like the dream I had of Ezra.
But what if it wasn’t?
What if what I saw is destined to happen?
I already knew that the end of the world was unavoidable. Regardless of the path I take leading up to that moment, it will happen and I will cause it. With the end of the world comes the end of the lives of the people here. The ruin of our planet will go hand in hand with their deaths.
I always understood that.
But seeing them die like that. Seeing their faces. Hearing their screams.
Seeing his face.
I suppose that’s when it all really hit me. That’s when it stopped being a nightmare and became reality.
My fingers weave through my hair, messy with sweat and tangled due to my unsettled sleep. My nails scrape against my scalp as I pull at the strands in exasperation. I bring my face to my knees.
Is there really no way around this?
Is there really nothing I can do to stop it?
I picture Ezra’s face. The different moments I’ve seen him—both in person and otherwise—play through my mind on an endless loop. The slide show eventually stops on a single image. On that same familiar vision, now tarnished further by the addition from my dream.
I watch him die all over again. It's as if my heart is being ripped from my chest, and I feel nauseous at the sudden realization that consumes me. I know what has to be done.
There’s no other way.
Richter said there was a cure. He could be lying, but just like with Ezra’s reasoning behind the mission to find Bilken, I can’t take the chance that he’s not.
A cure would stop all of this. It would stop the world from ending. It would prevent another massacre like what happened with the Enforcers. It would save my friends.
It would save him.
I take a deep breath. Lifting my head, I notice the light pouring in from the rest of the compound. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be morning.
Glancing around my room, I notice a spare pile of clothes sitting in a heap in the far corner. I drag myself off the bed and throw them on in a hurry. There’s no time to waste. Every vision takes me one step closer to that final moment.
If I’m going to do this, it has to be now.
I pause in the doorway and slowly inhale one more steadying breath.
It’s time to find Ezra, I decide.
I make my way through the network of hallways, but to be honest, I don’t have a clue where to start. There are a million places where he could possibly be hiding here. The compound is immense, and the options are nearly limitless. Besides, it’s unlikely he’ll be in one of the few locations I’m actually familiar with. If he wants to be alone, he’ll probably be tucked away in a secret place unknown to anyone else.
With no other option, I explore every room. I scour every nook, not caring how long it takes me. All that matters is that I find him.
I pass a number of people during my search, and it doesn’t escape my notice how they all avoid my gaze. The distrust Ezra had managed to dispel with his speech is once again evident in their hooded expressions. Maybe they blame me for what happened to Rai.
With a shake of my head, I remind myself that they don’t know about my condition—at least as far as I know. No, if they do blame me for what happened, it’s only because they never trusted me in the first place.
I decide not to worry myself about it. I have more important things to deal with right now, and truthfully, no one here matters to me except for Ezra and Jenner. When it really comes down to it, they’re the only two people in this world I actually care about. No one else has bothered to create a connection with me. No one else has ever looked out for me the way they have, especially given the short time I’ve known them. Rai was the only other person who had even attempted to and look how that ended.
Still, they deserve to know the truth. I owe them that much.
They deserve to know what I’m planning.
It takes over an hour for me to find Ezra. He’s wedged in the corner of a small, dark room in a section of the compound tha
t seems generally unused. It makes sense he would be in a place like this. Out here, there’s no one around to bother him.
I feel unnerved by that train of thought, realizing that’s exactly what I’d be doing. Jenner had said that what Ezra needs right now is space. I understand that, and for a short while, I even managed to respect it. But I don’t have time to wait for him to come out of hiding.
Not anymore.
I waver in the open doorway as my eyes take him in. He’s scrunched up in a tight ball with his arms folded over his knees, and his head is rested on top of them, hiding his face.
With quiet and slow movements, so as not to startle him, I walk over and carefully slide to the floor. I lower myself beside him, leaving just enough space between us so that our bodies aren’t touching.
The heat radiates from his skin. It seems to reach out to me, and the pull of it is strong, overwhelming me with the sudden urge to be as close to him as possible. Maybe it’s the narrowness of the room causing this sensation. I’m not sure. At any rate, I suppress that urge, concentrating instead on how he must be feeling.
I glance at him, unsure what to say. After all, I’ve never had to console anyone before now. I’ve never had to know what to say in these situations.
In our society, we are raised to simply accept death, regardless of how or why it happened.
I breathe out, my lips parting to speak, when I notice a small object on the floor between us. I cast an uncertain glance at his shadowed face before reaching down to pick it up, my fingers grazing the edges of what feels like textured paper. It’s crinkled and old, with an image printed across it. The colors have faded with age.
As I stare down at it, I instantly recognize the three faces looking back at me. They’re much younger—only children at the time this photograph was taken—but it’s definitely them.
The first face I see is Ezra’s. He’s missing one of his front teeth and grinning so widely I assume he must have been laughing. Standing in the middle is his brother, Austin. His smile is more reserved, but at least there’s some trace of emotion in his gaze. Unlike now. His arms are wrapped around Ezra’s shoulders as well as those of a pretty girl.
Rai.
She’s smiling as well, blushing from the proximity to the tall boy beside her. The chemistry between them is obvious, even at such a young age. It breaks my heart to witness it, knowing what the future holds for them when those smiling faces don’t.
I have to choke back fresh tears as I replace the picture on the floor. I can’t look at it any longer. Not when I can’t help but feel responsible for their pain.
My eyes peek up at Ezra. It now occurs to me that what he’s feeling must be doubled and distorted. First and foremost, there’s the pain of losing Rai. The pain of her death. But there’s another pain there too. Another type of suffering running alongside it.
The torment of seeing his brother again and realizing that he’s no longer the boy in that photograph.
These were two people who once meant the world to him, and in essence, both of them are gone now.
“Did you love her?” I whisper.
It’s something I’ve wondered since the moment I saw the heated argument between them. I was aware of Rai’s history with Richter. However, her past with Ezra was never as clear to me.
His movements are lethargic as he raises his head. I glance down at my hands, too embarrassed to face him. But he doesn’t look at me. He just stares straight ahead into the shadows of the room. Or maybe he’s looking at the picture on the floor. Either way, it’s a long time before he finally answers me.
“Rai was like a sister to me. She’s always been there . . . as long as I can remember.” With each breath, the trembling in his voice becomes more apparent. “I took it for granted,” he whispers. “I assumed she’d always be there.”
My eyes widen when tears begin to stream down his cheeks. They seem to cover his face in an effortless and endless wave of grief, until the rest of his body catches up to those emotions.
“How do you do it?” he breathes. He turns to look at me, desperate for an answer. “How do you kill someone you love? How could he do that? How—”
His words cut off as he breaks down in a fit of hysterical sobs right in front of me. His whole body shakes as they overtake him. One after another, the tears continue to come—the sound almost deafening as they drip onto the floor.
I stare at him in shock. In spite of the reason behind his pain, I can’t help but get lost in the memory of my visions. I’ve seen this face so many times before. Not necessarily as it is now, but the sadness is what’s familiar.
The recollection of it resurfaces in my brain, projecting in front of me. I see his face. I see his tears . . .
“I’m sorry, Wynter.”
Then the image changes. I see him again, although this time we’re no longer surrounded by destruction.
“Stay here. Stay with me.”
I remember the look on his face as he whispered those words. I hear them again now, resonating through every inch of my soul and forcing their way inside of my heart. Even if they aren’t real.
Even if they never will be.
Suddenly, all I can think about is that moment between us. About the kiss which might never actually happen.
The kiss that I now find myself wishing for, more than anything else.
My heart pounds wildly as an unfamiliar emotion tears across my skin. I know this isn’t the time or the place, but something inside of me is fighting to get out. Something new. Something different from the monster I’m so used to unleashing.
A part of me tries to fight it while another part is determined to set it free—to see what this feeling is.
The weaker side of me wins.
Without thinking, I lean forward and slide both of my hands across his tear-soaked cheeks. With a gentle pull, I turn his face toward mine, interweaving my fingers through his blond strands of hair. Our eyes lock for the briefest of moments before I allow whatever this is to fully take hold of me. Before I allow it to consume me.
To change me.
The emotions that Ezra has been pulling out of me all rise up at once, washing over my entire being in a turbulent wave. It’s as if I’ve been standing behind a door this entire time, and now it’s finally open, welcoming me in.
The sensation is intoxicating. Addictive. I can’t stop myself from embracing it, from pulling him to me, and pressing against his lips.
Time around us seems to stop, and I feel as if I’m watching from outside my body, looking in at a stranger. Is this what romantic love feels like? My heart seems ready to explode. My stomach is turning in on itself at a rate that makes me feel sick, and I’m experiencing more in one moment than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.
Is this love? Am I even capable of such an emotion?
Yes, I realize as I deepen the kiss.
All those visions.
All those moments.
Did I fall in love with him because of what I saw—because it would eventually pull us together? Or were the visions simply a result of the fact that I would inevitably fall in love with him?
I see us standing together at the end of the world. Just me and him.
Just us.
“I’m sorry . . .”
The vision changes, and I’m reminded of what awaits us after that final moment. Remembering what will happen if I stay.
Remembering he’ll die if I don’t leave.
Reluctantly, I pull away from him. Silence fills the room like a heavy fog, and for a long while, I avoid his gaze, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor.
I wait for him to speak, but those words never come. I wait and I wait, but the silence only continues. A feeling of fear rushes through me. A feeling of horror at what I’ve done, and even more so, what it’s done to him when he’s already emotionally broken. Disgusted with myself, I scramble to my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
With that, I’m through the door, running as
fast as my legs can carry me.
I don’t look back, even though my heart is screaming for me to stop. I don’t look back, not only because it’s not good for either of us, but also because I’m mortified by what just happened. Ezra was grieving for Rai, for our friend, and I selfishly acted on my feelings when I should’ve been grieving with him. I was only thinking of myself. I was only thinking of what I was feeling without giving any regard to how my actions might affect him.
My heart seems to cave in on itself. Finding the nearest corner, I slump to the floor, gasping as I try to get my breathing under control. However, each breath only becomes more labored as I come to terms with the situation.
In spite of everything that’s happened, that will happen, I’m in love with Ezra. I realize that now. But staying here isn’t an option. I know Richter could be lying about the cure, but if it’s the only way to stop this disease from taking over . . . if it’s the only way to stop me from killing the people here . . .
Then I’ll take it.
I’ll do whatever I have to in order to prevent that future.
Tears burn my eyes, but I also feel a tremendous weight being lifted off my shoulders. It’s as if that one moment has cleared my mind, making the decision for me.
My heart breaks at the idea of leaving Ezra, especially now, but I can’t bear the thought of him dying either. More than that, I can’t bear the thought of being the one responsible for his death.
After a few deep breaths, I use the wall to drag myself up. I’m unsteady on my feet, but I seem composed enough to move forward. I proceed through the hallways, never once looking back.
This is it, I think to myself.
This is what I have to do for both our sakes.
I HESITATE OUTSIDE THE OPEN doorway. I know this is the right thing to do. Someone needs to know, so they don’t try to come after me later. All the same, I can’t deny that I’m tempted by the idea of just cutting my losses and running off into the night. It’s what I plan to do anyway, so wouldn’t it be better for everyone if I simply disappeared? Besides, goodbyes are unnecessarily painful. I would be sparing them that pain.