The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Gabe’s expression remained blank as I neared him, which irritated me. Shouldn’t he have been happy that I was staying in the Colony, that he’d get to spend more time with me? I was certainly looking forward to getting to know him better…a lot better. But his eyes held a hint of something resembling unhappiness. He doesn’t want me to stay?

  “Yes, of course, Sir.” Gabe accepted the yellow fabric, then reached out and placed his arm around my shoulders much like General Herodson had done. Except Gabe’s embrace felt different—more protective, possessive, even. I figured it was just because he was noticeably taller and stronger than the older man.

  As Gabe started to guide me down the hallway, I looked back at the General and smiled. “Thanks again,” I told him.

  5

  ZOE

  MARCH 15, 1AE

  Walking closer to the fire pit, I could distinctly hear the shock in Jake’s voice as he confronted our mysterious visitor, his sister.

  “I—I thought you…” He stared into Becca’s eyes. I could feel the concern and guilt washing over him in waves, and I hesitated, not wanting to intrude. “You were dead.” He reached for her, but she raised a hand to block him. He froze, clearly distraught. “Where the hell’ve you been?”

  And just as Jake’s mind fled to memories of the past, Becca’s did as well, sweeping me along with it.

  “We found the telepath,” a slender, stern-looking man said as he rose from behind his large metal desk. His voice held a tinge of victory, although his eyes remained empty. He was a middle-aged military officer with brown hair and a slightly darker, cropped mustache. His navy blue, medal-adorned uniform looked pretentious. I noticed a raving gleam in his eyes as he glided over to Becca, who was standing in front of his desk wearing pastel green scrubs.

  “The one you’ve been searching for,” Becca said, only a hint of emotion in her raspy voice. Her dark hair was twisted into a tight, fist-sized bun atop her head, and her eyes were a dull mixture of blue and gray…not the violet I recalled from Jake’s memories.

  “Yes, the very one.” The officer nodded and walked the few feet between the edge of his desk and Becca’s position in front of it. His lips curved into a knowing smile as he placed both hands on her shoulders. “Everything is turning out exactly like I wanted…we just need to wait a little longer,” he added. “So prepare yourself for a special task.” He leaned in closer to her.

  She raised her chin a notch, honored that he’d chosen her to help him. “Of course, Father. Anything you wish of me, I will do.”

  He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze. “Yes, I know,” he said. He straightened and strode to a large window, his hands clasped behind his back. “Sometime soon, you will be going to their camp to find out everything you can about them. We need to know how dangerous they are, and how useful they may be. We need to know if they’re special—like you, my dear.” He flashed her a false smile over his shoulder. “And we need to know what their plans are. Will you do that for me, RV-one, and do it well this time?”

  Taken aback by his tone, she nodded and smiled. “Of course, Father,” she repeated.

  “Leave me now.” He shooed her away without even a glance back up at her. “Don’t let me down again, RV-one.” There was an edge to his voice, a warning. “You will regret it.”

  The telepath. “Dani,” I whispered. What are they going to do to her?

  “I said, ‘where the hell’ve you been,’ Becca?” Jake’s hands clasped her shoulders.

  Becca straightened, looking startled. “I am not Becca.” Her raspy voice sounded official. “I do not know you,” she said slowly and stepped away from him. “And please do not touch me.”

  Jake frowned. “Don’t touch you?” Although he dropped his hands to his sides, he didn’t step away. “Jesus Christ, Becca…are you alright? What happened to you? I thought you were dead.”

  She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning her attention to the fire.

  After a few breaths of silence, Jake took an uncertain step closer. His eyes were wide, and his lips were parted like he was struggling to find the right words. “You had no pulse…you were bleeding all over the place…” His words were quiet and unsure, like he was questioning his own memories. “You were dead,” he said under his breath.

  Becca’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally, but I couldn’t feel her emotions clearly enough to interpret them. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she said stiffly. Her strange speech pattern was jarring. “And my name is not Becca; my name is R—Rachel.” Idly, she rubbed the skin beneath the cuff of her sweatshirt, and I could just make out some black marks on her wrist. A tattoo? Like Dani’s?

  Jake hesitated before he spoke. “Your name is Becca. It’s Rebecca Marie Vaughn,” he said, and though she recoiled at his intensity, he continued, “You’re twenty-four. You like to swim, but you love snowboarding. You were born in Durango, but when Mom died we went to live with Gabe and Lizzy in Colorado Springs. Your birthday is September twenty-fifth, and your favorite color is red. You said you had fun at your prom because you knew that’s what I wanted to hear, but secretly you hated it.” He shook his head. “I do know you. I’ve known you your whole goddamn life. You’re my little sister,” he stated, his words pained, almost pleading.

  Becca watched him for a moment, her eyes narrowed in question.

  “You were dead, Becca,” Jake said, still unable to grasp the reality of her being there and standing in front of him.

  She shrank away. “Please stop calling me that. I have already told you, I am not your sister. I do not know what happened to her, but I assure you, I am not her.” Her voice was slightly harder than before. “Please stop calling me Becca.” Her steady tone was breaking, and I wondered which emotion might surface first. Confusion? Anger? She turned back to the fire. “Call me Rachel.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she made the request.

  I backtracked slowly and leaned against the barn. I wanted to stay, to help Jake in some way, but I didn’t know how. I glanced back and forth between them, watching Jake’s expression change from disbelief to sadness and then to confusion. I could feel his apprehension warring with the overwhelming need to pull his sister into his arms, to assure himself she was really there. I wished I could take away the pain and regret that filled his heart, but I couldn’t. All I could do was feel it with him.

  After a second’s pause, Jake took a much-needed step back, turned, and strode past me and into the barn. Cooper, who’d been sitting quietly by the fire, rose and trotted after him. When Jake finally reappeared, stalking toward Becca with a small square of paper held between his fingers, my heart seized. Oh, shit. Assuming it was a photo of the two of them, I held my breath, waiting to see how their interaction would play out.

  Jake stopped beside Becca. “Look at it,” he said evenly, holding the picture out to her. When she made no move to accept it, he sighed. “Just look at it.”

  Becca pried her eyes from the flames and slowly reached for the photo. I could feel her mounting curiosity. She studied the image for a moment, her expression giving nothing away.

  Unexpectedly, her head snapped up, her eyes locking on to Jake’s, and she thrust the picture at him. “Take it back,” she said brusquely. Her display of frustration was the first sign of any intense emotion she’d shown since she’d arrived. “I am not her.” She tugged anxiously at the hem of her tattered black sweatshirt.

  Jake’s mind was a cesspool of draining emotions—his anger and confusion twisting with concern and despondency. He shook his head and walked away, defeated.

  His words, or the pain behind them, must have affected Becca, because she watched him fixedly as he took one slow, brooding step after another into the barn. He passed me again without a glance in my direction, and I wondered if he even realized I was there.

  Unbidden, another of Becca’s memories surfaced.

  “Where was she, RV-one?” Father asked, eerily calm. He clasped his hands behind his back and tur
ned away from her, heading toward his cluttered desk. “She was in your charge. I gave you specific orders.”

  Becca’s eyes closed in shame. “Yes, Father. I know I have let you down.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  Her face was expressionless, but when her eyes flew open, they were filled with a sickening regret. “She was in the cafeteria,” she offered. “CL-one is new. She did not understand why she must wait. I was only in the restroom a few minutes. I do not know why she left.”

  “Interesting.” He sat down in his leather desk chair, calm and collected.

  “I will speak with her, Father,” she said with only a tinge of panic lacing her words. “I will determine the right course of action—”

  “No, you won’t.” Father picked up a pen lying beside a stack of files and began writing something, seeming completely unaffected by her heightened sense of fear.

  “Father?”

  “Your carelessness is unacceptable,” he said distractedly. “Grant,” he called.

  I could practically taste Becca’s terror as the name rolled off his tongue.

  The door opened and a guard stepped inside. “Sir?”

  “Take RV-one to the interrogation room.” He absently gestured to Becca with the top his pen, his focus intent on the file in front of him. “Make sure she realizes how important my orders are and what happens when they’re not obeyed.”

  Becca stepped forward. “Father, I will—”

  “No,” he said, finally looking up at her. “And never let this happen again. I won’t be as kind next time.” He glanced at the guard. “If she struggles, do it again.”

  After the guard nodded and pulled Becca’s hands behind her back, the memory changed.

  Becca was lying on a slanted board, her feet restrained above her and her arms tied at her sides. Muted rays of light shone through the fibers of the rag draped over her head. Her eyes were blurred from the remnants of water that still seeped through the wet cloth onto her face and trickled down her throat. Every attempted inhale was like breathing in scorching fire. Tears of pain mixed with the water as it streamed across her temples.

  When Becca heard the sloshing of water and realized her momentary respite was over, she tried to scream, to beg for the guard to stop. But it was no use.

  Again, water seeped through the rag, running into her nostrils.

  Again, her mouth involuntarily opened and she attempted to breathe. Water gurgled down her throat, making her lungs seize, her chest heave, and her throat burn as she choked, almost suffocating completely.

  Again, the primal instinct to breathe forced her body to thrash against the board. She couldn’t help but struggle between bursts of panic.

  Again, she was choking on water as she all but drowned. Terror completely consumed her.

  My mind stirred defensively, shutting out the suffocating feeling that had begun to consume me.

  Becca was standing alone by the fire. She inched closer to the flames and tentatively raised her hands to their warmth. It was like she’d never seen fire before.

  What else did they do to her? I drew an unsteady breath. Oh my God…what are they going to do to Dani? I continued searching through Becca’s mind for a memory that might help us figure out what “Father” wanted with my best friend.

  A cafeteria flashed in my mind, and I saw Becca sitting among a sea of others dressed in scrubs like her, but in different colors, each with two letters and two numbers tattooed on their wrists. They all seemed socially stunted, innocent, and overtly unanimated—like Becca.

  She was in a classroom—in a speech class of some sort—and she was learning how to pronounce vowel sounds. She was wearing white scrubs, just like the rest of the people sitting at the desks that filled the room. Colorful posters covered the walls, like those you’d find in a foreign language classroom, except everything was in English. A middle-aged woman with black armbands was weaving among the desks, praising and correcting her pupils as needed.

  A few more of her memories flashed in my mind’s eye before I blinked myself free of them. My Ability had been strengthening over the past month, allowing me to see more of people’s memories and feel more of their emotions than I necessarily wanted to. Unfortunately, my control hadn’t been increasing at the same rate.

  I’d felt and seen enough from Becca to know her mind had clearly been tampered with. As far as I could tell, her memories only spanned back a few months. She’d been rehabilitated, trained in basic self-defense, and taught to speak and how to act within a matter of weeks.

  I studied her face from a distance. It was just as I remembered it from Jake’s memories—only her eyes duller and lifeless—and I painstakingly waited to glimpse an irrefutable memory of Jake to force her to admit, even to herself, that she was who she denied to be.

  But her mind was an impenetrable vault of things forgotten, possibly gone forever. There was nothing in her mind connecting the two of them; it didn’t make sense.

  In the distance, gravel crunched under horse hooves, followed by a whinny and the sound of clanking metal bridles.

  Jason? I straightened and started walking toward the noise, an unexpected string tugging at my heart. But the rider wasn’t my brother.

  Carlos and his horse, Arrow, clomped through the line of trees edging the northeast side of camp, their outline barely visible in the dying afternoon light. Ky and Ben followed directly behind them. Not surprisingly, Ky brought his flask to his mouth as he swayed atop his horse. He tipped his head all the way back to savor every remaining drop.

  Chris ran out from the barn, and I caught sight of the scathing look she shot Carlos. As he dismounted, his eyes met hers, and I felt her relief before her expression softened. Jack barked and trotted toward us with his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. Jason, sitting atop his nameless horse, brought up the rear. Thank God.

  My brother eyed me for a moment, his gaze lingering before shifting to Chris. She was fretting over Carlos, her hands hovering around his body as she inspected him for injuries. Wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek, she scolded, “I had no idea how to find you. You’re lucky—”

  “It’s my fault,” Jason said evenly. “Blame me.”

  Chris glared at him. “Oh, I do.” Pulling away from Carlos, she rounded on Jason. “Get your head out of your ass. What were you thinking?” She snorted, her arms flailing as her anger flared to rage. “Oh, that’s right, you were thinking about yourself. It’s not like no one cares what happens to you, but you just go off, oblivious to the repercussions of your stupid actions.” She peered up into the sky, her claw-like fingers balling into fists. “I can’t even look at you right now.” She reached for Carlos’s arm and led him into the barn.

  Even though Jason was nulling me, I could see the defeat in his eyes as Chris and Carlos disappeared inside. I didn’t know why my brother had come back, but I was grateful that he had.

  “What’d we miss?” Ky asked, climbing clumsily from his saddle. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he flashed a crooked, drunken smile. “Or is it just that you all missed me terribly?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “We have a visitor,” I said quietly, and nodded toward the campfire and Becca.

  Jason handed his reins to Ben, who led the horses to the stable, and then my brother turned his attention to the stranger by the fire. “So who is she?”

  “Jake’s sister,” I said.

  “He has two?”

  I shook my head.

  Jason eyed Becca. “I thought he said she was dead.”

  “She was.”

  “Come inside,” Chris called from the barn. “I’ll fill you in.”

  “I thought you couldn’t stand looking at me,” Jason said.

  She barked a laugh. “I don’t have to look at you to talk to you.”

  I followed Jason into the barn, wondering what plan the others had come up with in the hour since we’d returned from Cañon City. Grayson, Carlos, and Sarah passed us on their way
out as we stepped inside, leaving Chris, Harper, Biggs, and Sanchez huddled around a workbench. Jake wasn’t there. How’s he doing? A horrifying thought crossed my mind. Is Father toying with us? With Jake? Does he know who Becca is to him? Based on her memories, it didn’t seem likely.

  “Toy.” It suddenly made sense. I took a few hurried steps closer to the workbench. “H,” I said, reaching for Harper’s arm.

  He turned to me. “What’s up, Baby Girl?”

  “Becca—she’s his ‘toy.’ The men in Cañon City said they had to ‘get his toy home safe and sound.’ It’s gotta be her. I’ve seen the man I think they’re referring to in her memories.” I quickly filled them in on the disturbing scenes I’d gleaned from her mind. “They’re sending a retrieval team for her tomorrow, and they’re going to raid us. For sure.” I glanced at Biggs and then out at the fire, where Sarah was chatting with Becca. I didn’t miss the way Becca’s eyes narrowed and lingered on Sarah’s round belly. “Whatever happens, we’ve gotta get Sarah outta here.”

  “Who the hell is this broad?” Biggs asked. His easygoing attitude had been completely dormant since we’d first heard Dani’s scream.

  “It is Becca,” I told them a little defensively. “She just doesn’t have any memories past a few months ago. It’s like they’ve been wiped away—or she has amnesia, maybe?”

  “Then how do you know it’s really her?” Sanchez asked, clearly unconvinced.

  “I’ve seen her in Jake’s memories. She looks exactly the same.”

  “Well, clearly she didn’t die then,” Sanchez mumbled and then swore under her breath. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Where’s Jake?” Harper asked, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  I shrugged just as Ky and Ben walked into the barn. Ky was a little wobbly and steadied himself on a central support post.

  “Take it easy, Ky,” Ben told his brother, his Japanese accent faint.

  “Should he…sit down, maybe?” Sanchez asked, smirking.