The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I placed my palm on the t-shirt covering his chest, and the rhythmic thumping of his heart was all the reminder I needed to know I was safe…for now, at least. His arms tightened protectively around me, and I lifted my head to kiss the side of his mouth.

  “Sorry I woke you,” I whispered, letting the familiar sound of Cooper’s tired sighs distract me.

  “I wasn’t asleep,” he said hoarsely, and out of habit, I stroked his chest with my thumb. “Was it about your mom again?”

  My feet found his at the foot of our joined sleeping bags. “Yeah.” I was tired of wondering if the dreams would ever end.

  Will I ever know what Mom really looked like? I hated not remembering anything about her, but I’d been too young when she’d died, and the hand-carved box Dani and Jason had brought from home was the only tie I had left to my parents. As frustrated as I’d always been with my dad for hiding it from me, I was also strangely relieved. I had something to look forward to now—potential answers. I needed to open the box, to find out what it contained.

  A surprising flood of hope washed through me at the thought of opening it, and my eyelids slowly drooped closed as I drifted into unconsciousness.

  12

  DANI

  MARCH 17, 1AE

  I squeezed the doorknob and, not knowing what to expect inside the bedroom, felt my palm slick with sweat. Questions ran through my head. Will it smell like death? Will it smell like rotting meat? Has Cam been decomposing, melting into our bed?

  Twisting my wrist, I let the door creak open. I instantly focused on the bed, on its unmoving occupant. Something was wrong.

  The room didn’t stink of death and decay, as it should have after holding my boyfriend’s dead body for so long. And the body was covered by a sheet. I didn’t cover him.

  “What the…” I began in a hushed tone as I moved closer to the bed…to the body. I reached for the sheet and pulled it back from his face. The body was neither bloated nor decayed. It also wasn’t Cam.

  “Oh my God!” I wailed, falling to my knees beside the bed. “Jason! No! NO!”

  I clutched on to his cold, motionless body, my fingers digging into him as I willed his life force to return. I reached out with my mind, searching for his, but there was nothing to find. As I stared at him, begging him to come back to me, dark splotches of blood began to leech through the front of his gray t-shirt.

  “No, Jason! This can’t be happening!” I cried, lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal that the smooth skin and hard muscle of his abdomen and chest was riddled with bullet wounds. I tried to stop the bleeding with my hands, but the viscous, red liquid welled relentlessly, forcing its way between my fingers.

  “Jason! Please! I can’t lose you, too…not after Cam. I can’t lose you…can’t lose you…”

  With a gasp, I sat up in bed. It was a dream, I told myself. Just a dream. Jason’s fine. I kept repeating it as I stared at the far wall of the bedroom. The sun had yet to rise, so the dull, pre-dawn light streaming through the window made the paint appear a sickly gray instead of off-white.

  Jason usually rose with the sun; it was one of his quirks. I, on the other hand, was more of a night owl, preferring to loll in bed in a state of lazy half-sleep for hours each morning. The rigid travel schedule we’d stuck to over the last few months had been a lot easier on him than on me, especially since he’d practically functioned as our alarm clock. In my opinion, his morning perkiness was completely unnatural. Still, I would welcome it in a heartbeat if it meant I could be with him again.

  Smiling at the thoughts of Jason, I stretched and lay back on the mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin. It was cold, sleeping without him beside me. After spending most of my life yearning for him and settling for unrequited love where he was concerned, it was odd that being separated from him hurt so much. But it did. My entire being ached for him—a dull, incessant pain centered in my chest that throbbed with each breath. I felt wrong…incomplete.

  With that thought, I decided not to wait until the sun rose to try to contact him. I needed to hear his voice, so to speak, to reassure myself that he really was okay. I needed to know that he was out there, alive and waiting for me to return to him.

  I closed my eyes, just as I’d done the previous evening when I’d contacted Zoe, and searched for the cluster of minds belonging to my friends. They’d moved again. I found them a little further to the west. Thankfully, unlike last night, Jason’s mind blazed near the others.

  When I reached out for his mind, something happened that I’d only experienced while talking in animals’ minds.

  “Red,” he whispered, and then he stopped speaking to me with words. He showed me what he wanted more than anything at that moment, to hold me close against his body…to feel ourselves connected in that most intimate way…to know I was safe because he was touching me, shielding me from the rest of the world.

  I could almost feel him, as if an ethereal version of Jason was with me, acting out what he was imagining. It made the pain from missing him—from needing him—increase to nearly unbearable levels. It also made me instantly and uncomfortably aroused.

  “Oh God,” I groaned. “It was like you were here…how’d you do that?”

  “Really? I don’t know, Red,” Jason responded, melting my heart with the sound of his voice, even if it was only in my mind. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours, thinking about you. I just…I don’t know.”

  Listening to him speak, I could almost imagine that he was lying beside me, holding me close. Tears welled in record time and streamed across my temples. “I miss you so much,” I told him, unable to keep a sorrowful wobble from my words.

  “Fuck, Dani, I—I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He sounded utterly lost, desperate.

  “It’s fine,” I told him. “I’m just so happy to talk to you. I’ve been sort of…well, worried, but that doesn’t quite cover it. Zo told me you got shot.”

  “Barely,” he grumbled.

  “And that you got a bad cut on your face?”

  “Can we not—”

  If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine, but I needed to know one thing. “Are you going to be okay?”

  He didn’t hesitate in answering. “Not until you’re back here.”

  My tears increased. “Oh, well…that’s just…really, um, nice.”

  “Zoe told me you were being mind-controlled by some General. What the fuck did he…tell me what he made you do,” Jason demanded roughly. Though he didn’t say it, I knew he was thinking of Mandy.

  “Honestly, not much. But then, he didn’t have control of me for very long. Mostly, he just made me forget things and want to obey him,” I explained.

  “So, nobody’s touched you? Nobody’s hurt you?” His voice was filled with barely controlled rage.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” I paused, unable to rid my mind of the images of him hurt…bleeding…dead. I frowned and blinked rapidly, annoyed at myself for being unable to restrain the sadness pouring from my eyes. “Jason…if I lost you…I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Red, I…me too,” he said, making my heart flutter.

  “I wish I could kiss you right now,” I told him.

  Jason chuckled, low and rough. “I wish I could do more than that.”

  I sighed, remembering the feel of his body against mine.

  “How are you feeling? Are you tired? I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” he said, letting his overprotective colors show.

  “I’m starting to feel it.” I frowned, not wanting to say goodbye, but even with the power boost from the neutralizer, I was starting to strain to maintain the connection. “I should probably go. Can we do this again tomorrow?”

  “Definitely,” he agreed. “Be careful, Red.”

  “You too,” I said before reluctantly letting the connection go.

  It’s going to be a long day.

  ~~~~~

  As I wandered across the street in the late morning, kicking the stray rocks and pi
eces of garbage scattered on the asphalt, I thought about my mission for the day. I was heading for the cluster of buildings Gabe had pointed out as converted storage warehouses. I had a limited amount of time to gather as much information as possible on what we were up against, and that included doing a rough inventory of the Colony’s supplies—weapons, medications, food, and otherwise.

  Before leaving for his lab earlier in the morning, Gabe had drawn me a rough map of what he called the “warehouse district” and had labeled each building with a letter. As I approached the sprawling building marked with an “A” on the map, I folded up Gabe’s sketch and stuffed it into the left pocket of my heavy, black raincoat. Luckily, the weather had remained too warm for snow, but that just meant the precipitation resulted in something I was far more familiar with—drizzling rain.

  Glancing around to ensure that nobody was watching me, I reached for the door handle and twisted. It was locked. Damn!

  Instead of standing in front of the door looking like I was trying to figure out how to break into the makeshift warehouse, I turned and walked away. I kept my pace even, neither rushed nor lagging, all the while glancing along the outer walls of the building, seeking a way in. There were dozens of windows, probably all locked.

  I scouted the entire perimeter without luck. There were no convenient open windows, no doors accidentally left unlocked. Staring forlornly at the main doors from the sidewalk beside the building, I thought, Come on, universe, toss me a bone here…

  He walked around the nearest corner of the building at that exact moment—the yellow-armbanded guard who’d propositioned me when I’d been on my way to meet with General Herodson. He was built thickly, and from the way he carried himself, I could tell his bulk was all muscle. I guessed he was around my age, maybe a few years younger. With his fairly attractive face and light brown hair, he looked like an all-American boy next door.

  It only took him a few seconds to recognize me, but I knew the moment he did. He narrowed his eyes and grinned wickedly. As he prowled forward, I started to back away, shooting furtive glances around me as I searched for the best escape route.

  “Well, well, well, little darlin’,” he drawled. During our last encounter, I hadn’t noticed his Texas twang through the haze of my concussion. “How about you and me have a little fun?” His eyes glinted predatorily.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t right now,” I said, impressing myself with the steadiness of my voice. “I’m a little busy with, uh…recuperating.”

  He kept coming, his pace increasing. His eyes scanned me from hood-covered head to sneakered toe. “You look just fine to me.”

  “No, I’m really not.” I brought my hand up to my neck, searching for the cord carrying my red card. It wasn’t there. Oh no! “I have a pass…from my doctor.” I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, hoping I’d stuffed the card into one of them instead. All I found was Gabe’s map. “I, um, guess I left it at home.”

  “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll do all the work, so you can just keep on recuperatin’,” he told me, leering.

  Without hesitating, I turned, intending to flee to Gabe’s lab. It was only a few blocks away, and I was quick enough that I had a good chance of beating the guard there. Unfortunately, my toe caught on a portion of the sidewalk that had been pushed up by a tree root. I tripped over the crack and skidded to the concrete face-first. I barely noticed my stinging palms or my torn jeans and scraped knees because he was there, pulling me up and dragging me back toward the main doors of Warehouse A.

  I wanted to scream, to fight, to claw out his eyeballs…but I was wearing yellow armbands, and struggling noticeably would alert the guard and any onlookers to my unusual, non-mind-controlled status. I was expected to go with the reproductive flow, as per the General’s usual directives. My choices were death or pretending nonconsensual sex was consensual; it shouldn’t have been a hard decision, but it was.

  “Please…don’t do this,” I whispered.

  He responded by wrapping his unyielding arms around me from behind, restraining both of my arms at my sides. He was just too goddamn strong.

  “C’mon, darlin’,” he said as he released one arm to unlock the warehouse door. “This can be fun. You’re the one makin’ it difficult. Why not just relax and enjoy it?”

  If I get the chance, I’m so going to kill you! But, in the back of my mind, I wondered if the General’s directive was the only reason he was behaving so aggressively toward me. Maybe he’d been a sweetheart prior to the have-sex-with-whoever-you-want compulsion. So…can I kill him if he’s little more than a puppet? He wasn’t like Mandy or Mr. Monk, or even like the Crazy I killed in the stable; his death wouldn’t be justified. There has to be another way…

  I stopped struggling, instead working on calming myself. I took slow, even breaths, hoping that doing so would steady my racing heart and bring rational thought back to the forefront of my mind. My captor’s hold loosened as he registered my supposed compliance.

  “There we go, sweet thang. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The way his arms were wrapped around me had transformed from aggressive and forceful to a mockery of tenderness, and he lowered his head to kiss my neck. I shivered involuntarily at the gentle contact, my skin crawling.

  Pretend it’s Jason, I told myself, thinking this stranger’s touches would seem less repulsive that way. Jason might never forgive me for what I was about to do, but he definitely wouldn’t be able to if I was dead.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured him: his powerful body, intense sapphire eyes, and short, jet-black hair. I imagined how safe I would feel if it was him embracing me in the warehouse, breathing against my hair and unzipping my coat to access what lay beneath.

  Caught up in my fantasy, I whispered, “Let me see you. I need to see you.”

  But when he turned me around to face him, I became all too aware that the man lowering his face to mine was not Jason.

  And still, I let him kiss me.

  13

  MASE

  MARCH 17, 1AE

  “C’mon! We have to get closer!” Camille hissed and grabbed Mase’s wrist as she stood. Her small hand didn’t come close to encircling it completely, but that didn’t stop her from tugging.

  The two Re-gens were hiding between some bushes and a few trees to observe the tiny woman. Begrudgingly, Mase rose from his crouched position and let Camille drag him across the road toward the warehouse. He easily could have tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back to the chow hall, where they would finish their lunch hour pretending to be nice, obedient Re-gens. He thought he probably should have; it would’ve been safer. But Camille was determined, and Mase didn’t have the heart to deny her.

  She was his first memory. It had been her kind face smiling down at him when he first opened his eyes a few months ago, her soft, gray eyes gazing at him with nothing but affection. She’d watched over him, taught him how to be more like the normals and less like the other Re-gens, taught him how to pretend to be just like the other Re-gens. She was the center of Mase’s universe, the only force holding him together when the fragmented images of someone else’s life flashed through his mind.

  The other Re-gens focused all their attention on Father, practically worshipping him. Camille and Mase pretended, did their jobs, and did whatever it took not to draw unwanted attention. But Camille had whispered the truth to Mase, telling him what Father had done to him, what he must have done to her, too. He killed them. He killed them and remade them into something else, something he thought he could control. He was wrong.

  Every time Mase was near Father—the man the normals called General Herodson—he had to fight the urge to tear the man’s head off and smash it against a wall. He could have, easily. But there were others like Father, others who controlled many of the normals’ minds like Father did. He was just the strongest, largest, and evilest head on a many-headed monster. So, Mase bided his time, watched, and kept Camille safe.

  “C’mon! Pick up your feet
, Giant, or we’ll miss it all.”

  Mase scowled, but inside he was smiling. “Giant” was Camille’s nickname for him, and he loved it. At night, in the barracks they shared with the other Re-gens—vast rooms filled with row after row of bunks—she would often sneak over to his bed and let him hold her while she slept. She would call him her gentle giant and say he made her feel safe. Mase usually stayed up late watching her, avoiding the nightmares that haunted his sleep.

  Camille had the nightmares too, as did some of the other Re-gens. Sometimes she would wake up crying, and the only way Mase could get her to stop would be to press his lips against hers. Eventually she would rest her head on his chest and fall back asleep. But he never slept after those moments. Mase would lie awake, hungry for something he didn’t understand.

  Camille looked back at him. Hair so dark it was almost black flew around her as she jogged, and her pale cheeks were flushed pink. “Faster, Giant, or I swear…”

  Mase did smile then. “Calm down, Camille,” he told her as they neared the warehouse. He glared around at their potentially hostile surroundings. They were wearing jeans and sweatshirts instead of their usual uniforms—the scrubs worn by Re-gens—in an attempt to look like normals, but Mase was still wary. “If anyone sees us like this…if they recognize us, they’ll report us.”

  “I know, but we can’t miss it!” she said, her soft voice urgent.

  “What makes you so sure she can help?” he asked, picking up the pace. He wanted to get out of sight.

  Camille waited until they were crouched behind another bush, but their new cover was nearly flush against one of the warehouse’s many windows. She wiped the glass with her sleeve to clear it of rain and grime and peered inside.

  “I told you, I saw what happened in the science building when Dr. McLaughlin shot the glowing medicine into her neck. She screamed until she couldn’t scream anymore, and her scream made my head feel like it was going to explode. She doesn’t want to be here, Giant, and she’s not under his control. She’s perfect.”