The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  No! Not now! It was minutes until the eleventh hour, the worst possible time for doubts. Of course, knowing that didn’t stop me from having them; the very heated, very real argument that started overhead did.

  Muffled by the floorboards, insulation, and drywall, Camille and Mase had just erupted into an epic shouting match. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were saying, but I could hear the tone, a heated mixture of accusation, hurt, and anger. It definitely wasn’t the sounds I’d expected to need to ignore.

  Not too slowly, I crept toward the stairs and up to the second floor. As I headed down the hallway, the guest room door at the end opened and Camille burst out. She thundered past me, sobbing.

  “Camille! Wait!” I chased down the stairs after her, barely managing to catch her wrist before she reached the front door. “What’s wrong? Did something…did he hurt you?” I asked softly. Concern was washed away by a sudden rush of anger. If he hurt her…

  Camille faced me, her cheeks tear-streaked and her eyes red, swollen, and filled with fear. “I thought I could at least have…” Closing her eyes for a moment, she shook her head. “You won’t understand. You can’t understand.” She jerked her wrist from my grasp and choked out, “Just let me go.”

  She rushed out of the house, accentuating her exit by slamming the front door. She was gone, and I was still standing in the entryway, baffled. What happened? What did he do to her?

  Simmering with accusation, I stalked up the stairs and toward the guest room. When I reached the doorway, fists on hips, I froze. Mase was sitting on the carpeted floor facing me, his hunched back against the side of the bed and his head lowered into his hands. His shoulders were shaking. Is he…crying? The biggest and strongest man I’d ever met was crying in my guest room.

  My fists dropped from my hips of their own accord. “Mase? What happened?” I asked softly. When he said nothing, made no move to respond, I repeated, “Mase?”

  He didn’t raise his head, but he did speak. “She killed me.”

  “What?” I blurted, before I could stop myself. “I mean, you look pretty alive to me.”

  Mase dropped his hands and glanced up at me, then shook his head. With dull eyes, he looked ahead, staring at nothing. “Before, when I was a normal. She helped Father kill me and make me into this.”

  My heart seemed to drop into my stomach, leaden and chilled. I sat down beside him, cross-legged and facing him, and gently touched my fingertips to the fatigues covering his knee. “What are you talking about?”

  He told me. Everything. After he relayed everything he’d learned from his file, he asked, “How could she do that? How could she lie to me?” The angst filling his eyes, the tears of betrayal spilling from them, broke my heart. His hurt was that of a small boy who’d just learned that the world wasn’t fair and that bad things happened to good people all the time, or that of a man who’d been misled by the woman he loved.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to help him. I’d experienced a hell of a lot of pain in the form of death and loss, but never such a personal betrayal, not even from Gabe. That must be how Zo and Jason feel about their parents, I realized.

  “You said that whatever Camille found in her folder upset her, right? But that you didn’t read it?” I asked.

  He nodded, still staring ahead. His eyes seemed to have lost some of their life.

  “Hold on,” I said, jumping up and rushing out of the room. I ran downstairs, grabbed the camera, and hurried back up to the guest room.

  “Okay,” I said, a little breathless as I reclaimed my spot on the floor beside Mase.

  He watched me, curiosity lending some spark to his deadened eyes.

  “Let’s see what she read that upset her so much. Maybe it’ll help us understand why she did what she did.” Mase’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and I added, “I’m not saying there’s anything that could excuse her actions, but…let’s not judge her too harshly until we know the whole story. Grams, my grandma, used to say”—I adopted my best Irish accent—“‘Every story has as many sides as it does people.’”

  Mase frowned, looking reticent, but he eventually nodded.

  “I’m pretty sure there was a letter sort of like yours in her folder,” I said as I scanned through the images on the small screen. I glanced at Mase. “There wasn’t much in there, not like your file, but yours was mostly service records and other military documents. I think hers was just a profile sheet, some medical records, and a letter.” I pursed my mouth as I waded through the pictures. There were so many. There was no way I would be able to read all the documents before the breakout in less than twenty-one hours, but there would be plenty of time once I was on the outside. Not that I know where I’ll find the power to charge the camera, but still…

  “Ah—here it is!” I scanned through the images of Camille’s letter to see how long it was, then met Mase’s eyes. Anticipation gleamed in their depths. If I was reading him right, I was pretty sure he wanted Camille’s letter to exonerate her, to prove that at least part of her was the woman he’d come to depend on…and love. “It’s a couple pages. Do you want me to read the whole thing out loud?”

  Again, Mase nodded, so I started to read.

  My name is Camille Marie Lin, I’m 17 years old, and I want to die.

  Last month, I went to my high school’s winter formal with my boyfriend, Matt. I wore the dress of my dreams, and Mom even let me splurge to get my hair and makeup done. I’d never done that before. Mom hadn’t known that Matt and I planned on spending the night after the dance in a hotel room together. She thought I was going to a sleepover with a bunch of my girlfriends, but I was really going to be with Matt…like, BE with him. And we did. It was okay, I guess, but not amazing like everyone pretends it is. Fireworks? Yeah, right.

  The next morning, my life turned into a horror movie. When I got up, Matt wouldn’t wake. I called my Mom and confessed everything. Okay, not EVERYTHING, but you get the point. It turned out that half the school had to be hospitalized the day after the dance, and Mom and I were admitted the next day. We were both really sick, and they stuck needles in us and hooked us up to IVs and packed us into a room with a dozen other sick people. I eventually got better, but Mom didn’t.

  There were too many bodies and not enough people to take care of them…like, bury them or whatever…so they just stacked them up outside the hospital and lit them on fire. I’ve never smelled anything so disgusting, and it probably didn’t help that I was still puking every other hour. I watched from the hospital room window as they wheeled Mom out to the human bonfire and tossed her onto the pile. I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t look away. I watched my mom burn. Why couldn’t I look away?

  Eventually it was done, and I couldn’t tell her from the other blackened bones. I didn’t want to end up in that pile with her, so I left. I hid in my house for a day, then wandered around my neighborhood, looking for any of the people I grew up with. There was nobody. I stopped by Mase’s house. It had always been like a second home to me, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there. I sat in Mase’s room for a while, wishing he was there with me. He always knew what to do. I knew that he would take care of me, if he was even still alive.

  I was so happy when his dad walked into the room that I ran to hug him, but there was something wrong with him. He wasn’t sick, not like I’d been; he was mean. I’d known him my whole life, and I knew he was kind and gentle, but he started trying to kiss me and take off my clothes. I screamed and screamed and screamed, but nobody came, and before he could actually undress me, a metal baseball bat flew to my hand like it was magnetic or something, and I swung it. I hit Mr. Atwell in the head and he fell to the floor. He didn’t get back up. I killed Mr. Atwell.

  When I realized what I’d done, I ran out of the house and into the street. I was so stupid. I ran right in front of a car, and it should’ve hit me, but it just…stopped. It had been speeding and was really close, too close to stop with brakes or anythi
ng normal. And I felt it. It was like the bat. I stopped the car.

  The driver looked scared, but I told her I wouldn’t let her car move until she let me in. I promised not to hurt her if she just took me with her. She did. Her name was Kathy, and she was my mom’s age. She’d heard a radio broadcast coming from some place in Colorado. It was on every station, apparently, and finally I heard it too. So, we drove, and made it here, to the Colony.

  I was coping okay, but then I saw Mase. I wanted to run to him and fall into his arms, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. But there’s no way he’d forgive me for killing his dad. I know him too well. So, when Dr. Wesley told me about a new program she was in charge of, a program that would make me forget everything, I volunteered. So now I get what I want: I get to die, and Mase never has to know what I did.

  “That’s it,” I said, clicking to the next image and finding the profile sheet for Jake’s sister, Becca. I made a mental note to ask Gabe to search her out tomorrow—or, technically, later today—turned off the screen, and set the camera on the bed near my head. “Mase?”

  His face was twisted into a mask of grief, but only a single tear leaked from his eye. “I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to do now. She”—he squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath—“became a Re-gen because she was afraid to tell me what she’d done. I know about the normals who went insane because of the Virus. He must’ve been one of them. Would I have blamed her for defending herself? Was I that mean?”

  I shook my head and fought back my own tears. Watching a man cry, especially one as strong as Mase, was usually a surefire way to jump-start my own emotional waterworks. “I honestly don’t know, Mase, but I’d bet she was just afraid of losing you—the old you—along with everyone else she lost back home. I think she panicked and took the only exit in sight.”

  “What do I do now?” he asked.

  After a moment of thought, I said, “There’s one more person who can shed some light on this story.”

  “Dr. Wesley?”

  I nodded. “I think you should stay here the rest of the night, and we can go and talk to her first thing in the morning. I don’t want this thing between you and Camille to get twisted into any more knots before we know everything.” I watched him, waiting for his agreement. “At least you’ll have plenty of time to work things out with Camille once we’ve made it out of here. You won’t have to worry about people watching over you all the time or doing who knows what for General Herodson.” A thought popped into my head. “I know you work with Dr. Max, but what does Camille do for the General?”

  “She’s one of his executioners, among other things,” Mase said, but he sounded distracted…anxious.

  I spluttered, “Executioners? I…what…that’s…wow.” I really didn’t want to think about the implications, but I couldn’t help but wonder how exactly the General used her to execute people. Does she tear the metals right out of their bodies? I cleared my throat, shuddering. “I, um, suppose we should get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” When Mase didn’t respond, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I—” He met my eyes only briefly, then averted his gaze like he was ashamed. “I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid?” I reached for the hand resting on his knee and squeezed it, nearly giggling at how childlike my hand looked compared to his. I was filled with anxiety, and it was manifesting in unpredictable, inappropriate ways, as usual. “Worry and fear won’t help us now,” I told him. “All we can do is prepare.”

  Mase shook his head, looking like a scared little boy trapped in a huge man’s body. “It’s not the escape that I’m afraid of; it’s after. I’ve never been…” He took a deep breath and tensed his muscles. “I don’t remember ever being outside the Colony. I don’t know what to do out there. I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t know anything. This is all I’ve ever known.”

  He sounded so despondent that I felt compelled to ease at least this part of his unrest. I decided to tell him some stories. My stories. I started off by telling him about my journey from Seattle to Bodega Bay, about the time I spent alone with only Wings and Jack, and finally about the long trek to Colorado. I described my friends to him and shared what it was like to be a modern-day nomad. I told him what my average day was like, starting from waking up in a tent and sitting around a morning campfire, and continuing on through riding and searching for a good place to set up camp. Eventually, Mase stretched out on the carpet and his breathing slowed to a deep, steady rhythm. He was asleep.

  I craned my neck to glance out the window on the other side of the bed. It was still fully dark; the sun wouldn’t be rising for hours. Making as little noise as possible, I rose and gathered one of the pillows, the comforter, and a blanket off the bed. Mase was a huge, heavy block of solid muscle, but I somehow managed to ease the pillow under his head and cover him with the comforter, tucking it just under his chin. He let out a faint sigh as I pulled away. Wrapping the remaining blanket around myself, I huddled on the floor, leaning against the wall and watching over him. I wonder if anyone has noticed he’s missing yet.

  Asleep, he looked so innocent, like someone who needed to be protected, which was ridiculous because he’d saved my skin several times already. But there was just…something. Maybe it was my knowledge of what he was, or maybe it was my sympathy for what he’d been through, but I felt an almost maternal need to keep him safe.

  With a deep sigh, I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, but sleep proved too slippery for me to hold on to at the moment. Exasperated, I reached out with my mind, searching my friends’ camp for Jason. I wasn’t surprised to find him awake.

  “Hey,” I said, putting as much tenderness as I could into the single word. “Can’t sleep?”

  I had the impression that Jason was smiling. “No, but neither can you.”

  “True…a lot’s happened. Want to hear something crazy about my Ability?”

  “Always.”

  Biting my bottom lip, I considered the best way to explain what I’d experienced for a few seconds in General Herodson’s office. “I had some lookouts tonight—some owls. When I first connected with them, I sort of became them for a few seconds. I don’t know if it was an accident or what, or if I can even do it on purpose, but it looks like I can slip into some minds completely…experience what they’re experiencing…know every thought they’re having at that moment.”

  “Can you do it with me? I have a few thoughts I’d like to share with you…”

  My cheeks heated, and I stifled a giggle. “I don’t know. It only happened that once with the owls. People might be totally different, although…I wonder if that’s what happened before, when I contacted you the first time.” I was really tempted to test that theory. “But, before we get too distracted, I should probably share everything I discovered tonight.”

  “Nobody caught you? You’re still safe, right?” he asked, his tone transforming effortlessly from seductive to protective.

  “I’m fine. I took pictures with a camera I, uh…found. Want me to go through them with you?”

  “Yes,” he said intently. “Tell me everything.”

  I did.

  Hours passed, and the sun was just making its first attempts at climbing over the horizon when we said our farewells. Tempted as we were to have some long-distance hanky-panky, Jason had information to relay and breakout plans to finalize. I agreed to check in at noon to coordinate the final plan between the insiders—Gabe, Mase, Camille, Gabe’s mysterious “like my sister” friend, and potentially Dr. Wesley—and my friends outside the Colony.

  But noon was hours away, Mase was still fast asleep, and I had nothing to do. I figured there was no better time to try out the new facet of my Ability. Closing my eyes, I rested the back of my head against the wall and sought out a companion. I found her circling above my friends’ camp, a falcon who identified herself as Ray of Sun that Melts the Winter Snow. Slipping into her mind wa
s almost effortless. Ray was more than happy to share her morning hunt with me.

  On her powerful wings, we soared.

  26

  DANI

  MARCH 22, 1AE

  The first rays of the sun warmed my outstretched wings as I circled above the female two-legs. She was walking like she was stalking prey, but I could see no prey. Though I found the sight boring, she-who-flies-with-me wanted to watch her. She-who-flies-with-me intrigued me, the way she could meld with me, flying with me, not just beside me. As I showed her what we could do together, she exalted in the joys of flight like a youngling, hooting and squealing with pleasure. She claimed to be a two-legs like the one below, but I was sure she was a wind-rider like me.

  I swooped lower, calling out to the female two-legs.

  “Dani?”

  Screeching, I pulled up from a dive, the movement more clumsy than I’d intended.

  “Dani?”

  I shook my head and felt she-who-flies-with-me start to pull away from me. How could she want to leave the crisp morning air…the feel of it streaming between my feathers?

  “Dani?”

  She separated further and thanked me.