The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Jason lowered his head and grazed his lips over the side of my neck. “Later…”

  “No, Jason, now. It has to be now.” Because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I started this new phase of our relationship with that lie hanging over us, and I doubted that he would forgive me either. As it was, I didn’t know if he would feel the same about me after I told him—but I wouldn’t trade the chance to have a lifetime of love for a few moments of bliss. I wouldn’t.

  With a rough, knowing noise, Jason wedged his leg between my knees and slid his hands down to my hips. He moved against me, taunting me. Damn him for knowing exactly how to please my greedy body.

  My head fell back against the side of the house, and I moaned.

  “What were you saying?” Jason whispered against my neck.

  I swallowed, cleared my throat, whimpered. “Your mom…she’s alive.”

  He stilled instantly, a new kind of tension humming through him.

  “I met her,” I said, breathing hard. “In the Colony.”

  Ever so slowly, Jason raised his head and met my eyes. “What?” His voice was cold…so very cold.

  “It’s not what you think,” I rushed to say before he could draw false conclusions…or any conclusions. Pretty much any conclusion would be a bad one. “She really didn’t want you to know about her, and I thought about telling you…so many times—”

  “Then why didn’t you?” That tone…that tone could freeze the sun.

  “Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “And how, exactly, would telling me that my mom was alive and within reach have hurt me?” His eyes narrowed, spearing me with accusation. “Or was it just that you’d have to admit to lying all this time?”

  “What? No!” I pushed against his chest again, and this time he lifted off me enough that I could duck under his arm and slip out from between him and the side of the house. “Do you really think that little of me?”

  With a roar, Jason punched his palm against the wood siding. “Then tell me, because right now I don’t know what to think. What possible reason could you have for not telling me?”

  “She created the Virus,” I said, my voice barely audible.

  Jason turned his head, looking at me with eyes filled with utter revulsion. “Why would you say that?”

  My arms itched to wrap around my middle, but I held them rigid at my sides, my hands in shaking fists. “Because it’s true.”

  Jason’s eyes slid off me. “You’re wrong. It wasn’t her. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Indignant, I straightened my back and held my head high. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re being a huge asshole, because I know this is a shock.” I inhaled harshly. “Your mom was at the Colony, and she did create the Virus.”

  Jason was shaking his head. “Then she didn’t know. It was an accident.”

  “No, Jason, it wasn’t.”

  “So what are you saying?” He pushed away from the side of the house and started stalking toward me. “What the fuck are you saying—that my mom’s evil? That she’s some sort of evil genius working with that—that fucking General…to what? To take over the world?” He stopped less than a foot from me, all hard muscle and menace and anger towering over me.

  I refused to look away, refused to back up. “No,” I said, expending every ounce of control I had to keep my voice even. “I’m saying that it wasn’t an accident, and that she knew exactly what she was doing.” I took a deep breath, and before Jason could launch into another tirade, said, “She did it to protect you, because if she hadn’t helped Herodson create the Virus, he would have killed you and Zo.”

  Jason staggered back as though I’d punched him. In seconds, his expression transformed from irate man to lost little boy. “What?”

  My chin quivered, and I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry. “After your mom left you guys, General Herodson stationed watchers around you and Zo. You were collateral in case his mind control failed on her, except—” I wanted to look away so badly, to not bear witness to Jason having one of the pillars of his childhood ripped out from beneath him. But I couldn’t leave him to face this alone, not when I was the one who’d landed the first blow. “He didn’t know—still doesn’t—about the other half of her Ability.”

  “I don’t…” Jason shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your mom’s just like you, able to increase, decrease, or block other people’s Abilities, but Herodson only knows about the boosting part. She was never under his mind control. The only control he ever had over her was you…you and Zo and your Dad. And then she fell in love with him.” I blinked, and a tear snuck out from between my lashes. I swiped it away before it could start its journey down my cheek and took another deep breath. “There’s something you should see,” I said, walking past him. When I didn’t hear footsteps behind me, I paused and looked back at Jason.

  He was standing exactly where he’d been for the last few minutes, exactly as he’d been.

  “It’s from your mom—a letter.”

  His head snapped around, his eyes seeking mine, eagerness and terror making them too bright, too wide.

  “Come on,” I said, continuing back toward camp. It wasn’t immediate, but I finally heard Jason’s footsteps behind me and exhaled in relief. If he was following me, it meant he believed me. It meant there was hope that he could accept this…and possibly not hate me for all eternity.

  We walked in silence, Jason always a few steps behind me. When we reached our tent, I quickly dug through my saddlebags until I found the manila envelope containing the letters and documents from Dr. Wesley. I fished out the smaller envelope with “Jason and Zoe” written on its face in Dr. Wesley’s elegant but barely legible handwriting. Inside, it contained a letter from a mother to her children…and the confession of a mass murderer.

  “Here,” I said, handing the sealed envelope to Jason. “I haven’t read it, so I don’t know how much she explains.”

  Jason sat carefully on his sleeping bag. His face was washed out, and his hands were shaking as he flipped the envelope over to look at the unbroken seal. He peered up at me, his eyes unfocused. “Zoe?”

  “She hasn’t seen it. She doesn’t actually know about the letter—not that it would do her much good as she is right now.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “But, um, she does know about your mom.”

  “What?” His gaze sharpened. “How?”

  “Dr. Wesley—your mom—she’s the one who saved Zo from Clara and left her at the house for us to find, as per Becca’s instructions.” I waved my hand weakly. “It’s all very confusing…everything with Becca is confusing…”

  Staring down at the envelope, Jason said, “All her life, Zoe’s been searching for clues about our mom, and now she knows…and she doesn’t even care.” He chuckled hollowly. “It’s all such a fucking mess.”

  Hysteria bubbled up from my chest in the form of a laugh that turned into a desolate sob. I dropped to my knees before Jason, taking one of his hands in both of mine. “I’m so, so sorry, Jason. If I could spare you this…” I shook my head. “You’re pissed. You should be pissed. I screwed up. I should have told you sooner…when I first found out…I should have—but I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted you to know, because some things really are worse than death. I thought…I don’t know. I guess I thought I could protect you from that.” I laughed bitterly. “I can’t do much, but I thought I could do that…”

  “I’m not pissed—not at you.” Jason chuckled again, the sound devoid of all emotion. “Most of my life, I was miserable because I thought she was dead. Then I found out about the accident—that it was all crap—and I hated her for leaving us…for leaving me. And now this?” He blinked slowly. “Now I wish she really had died in that car accident.” For seconds, he said nothing, simply stared at the envelope. “I can’t be mad at you, not when I know I’d have done the same thing if our roles were reversed.”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Yo
u don’t hate me?”

  He shook his head the barest amount.

  My eyebrows rose. “Do you—do you still love me?” My voice increased in pitch as I asked the question.

  Jason glanced up at the roof of our tent. “If love were something that could be turned on and off whenever we wanted…” He laughed softly, a sound absolutely devoid of humor. “But it can’t.” He lowered his eyes, a spark of something flashing in their desperate, blue depths. “I think my dad was proof of that.” Surprising me, hope washed over his face. “Do you think my dad…that he might still be—”

  “He’s gone, Jason. Grams found him, remember?” I gave his hand a supportive squeeze as I watched the hope fade away. It was such a fickle, fleeting thing, hope.

  “Right.” He shook his head, dispelling any lingering hope. “No, I know that. I know.”

  “Well, um…” Clearing my throat, I glanced down at the envelope in his hand. “Are you going to open it?”

  With trembling hands, Jason unsealed the envelope and pulled out the tri-folded letter. He unfolded it, and I watched his eyes as he read, skimming quickly from side to side, devouring his mom’s words. The letter was three pages long, and it only took him a few minutes to read through it.

  “Holy shit,” he murmured when he reached the bottom of the third page. “Holy fucking shit.”

  I tightened my hold on his thigh. “I know…it’s a crazy story,” I said, shaking my head.

  “No.” Jason pointed to the second to last paragraph, and I started reading.

  This is very important —These Monitors may still be with you. They would have had the gene therapy and already been familiar with their Abilities by the time they were implanted into your lives. They would still have fallen ill when infected by the Virus, but it would have been nothing more than a bad case of the flu to them, as their genetic code would have already been altered. It is possible that they don’t even know what they are. Herodson has people like your father who can alter perception as well as memories; they are, after all, the heart of the T-R program. Your Monitors could be sleeper agents, programmed to carry out their mission and eliminate you only when they’ve been triggered. If this is the case, those triggers will include any sign that I’ve been in contact with you. Be very careful about who you share this letter with. Better yet, share it with no one. Burn it.

  “Holy shit…eliminate you,” I said, echoing Dr. Wesley’s words. If she was right, if her information was trustworthy, then one or more of our companions could really be agents of the General. Only Chris and Ky had been with Jason from the beginning, and only Sarah had been with Zoe. None of them can be…that. And why the hell didn’t Dr. Wesley tell me about this?

  I met Jason’s eyes, the horror I felt mirrored in his. Chris and Ky were his two closest friends. The idea that one of them could be working for the General, planted near Jason for the sole purpose of executing him should the need arise, was obviously killing him.

  “We have to talk to Zo and Gabe,” I said. “Right now.”

  ~~~~~

  Zoe and Gabe were sitting on one side of the rectangular Formica kitchen table inside the farmhouse Jason and I had visited earlier. Someone had died in the bedroom, but the five months that had passed had shifted the odor from putrid to merely pungent, and closing the door made it tolerable. Jason was standing at the end of the table, arms crossed over his broad chest and the letter from Dr. Wesley clutched in fingers, and I was pacing back and forth along the side opposite Zoe and Gabe. The manila envelope with the packet of documents and papers the doctor had left with Zoe, along with her letter to me, was on the table in front of Gabe.

  “Why didn’t you mention Wes’s little care package earlier?” Gabe asked, tapping the manila envelope. “There might be something in here that can help with…” His eyes flicked to and away from Zoe so quickly that I wasn’t positive I hadn’t imagined it. “Things.”

  “I know…I should’ve shown all that stuff to you. But when Camille told me about how Dr. Wesley was actually in love with Herodson—”

  Gabe’s eyebrows shot upward. “What? Wes despises him, I assure you.”

  I shook my head. “But she doesn’t, not really. Before Camille was turned into a Re-gen, she overheard Dr. Wesley telling someone that she couldn’t leave the Colony because she wouldn’t abandon him…because she loved him.”

  Gabe took a deep, even breath. “And did Camille happen to mention whether Wes stated Gregory Herodson, specifically, as the recipient of her love?”

  I blinked several times, searching my memory. “Um…no. She just said ‘him.’”

  Gabe’s answering smile wasn’t overly kind. “And you just leapt to the conclusion that she was talking about Herodson.” He shook his head. “You must truly despise her.”

  “Of course I do,” I snapped. “She killed everyone. God, it’s like you’re suffering from Stockholm syndrome or something.” I pointed to Jason, and then to Zoe. “Even if she created the Virus just to save them”—I glanced at my boyfriend and amnesiac best friend—“no offense, she still did it. She still killed billions of people.” I skewered Gabe with a raging glare. “That’s not something you do that deserves forgiveness or pity. There’s no repentance for that.”

  Gabe blinked slowly. “She’s not the enemy, Dani.”

  “Yes. She is.”

  “She was talking about her son.”

  “What?” Jason, Zoe, and I said in unison. Both Zoe and I glanced at Jason, who frowned and shook his head.

  “Peter,” Gabe said. “His name is Peter, and Herodson is his father.”

  Crickets filled the room. Or rather, the absence of crickets. I was pretty sure we were all holding our breath.

  My cheeks flamed and shame filled me. I’d assumed wrong and put us all in danger, and now I felt like the biggest moron in the world.

  Jason cleared his throat. “As disturbing as that is, it’s not the most important thing at the moment. Can we get on with this?”

  Right…the letter. “Yeah, of course.”

  Uncrossing his arms, Jason raised the letter and started to read.

  Dear Jason and Zoe,

  I wish I didn’t have to write these words to you. I wish things were different. Some of the things I’ve done…I wish I hadn’t, but I didn’t have a choice. Now we all must live with the fallout.

  If you’re reading this, it means Dani decided you should know the truth. I can’t say I agree with her decision, but I also can’t say that I haven’t yearned for this day since I left both of you and your father. Whatever else you glean from this letter, know this: I love you. I always have, and I always will.

  Over two decades ago, Gregory Herodson, who you know as General Herodson through Dani and Gabriel, threatened both of your lives. If I hadn’t left you to join him, hadn’t created a virus that would spread the gene therapy like wildfire, and hadn’t helped Gregory begin his “Great Transformation,” then you would have been killed. Please don’t fool yourselves; I knew exactly what would happen once the Virus was unleashed on the general population. I knew that those infected would either die or go through a genetic mutation that would leave them forever altered, for better, or—in the case of most people—for worse. I knew all of this, and I created it anyway.

  I’m not asking for your forgiveness or even for your understanding. I’m fully aware that I deserve neither. It is reward enough to know that both of you are still alive. Nothing is more important than family. Please don’t blame yourselves. This was my decision, and the blame must fall on my shoulders. I accept it, even welcome it.

  Now, I have consulted with RV-01, and she has advised me in what I must tell you if you’re both to continue to survive. According to her, whether or not you read this letter is essentially a fork in the road—the future will be drastically different if you don’t read it than if you do. I just wish she’d told me which is the better path to take. But she didn’t. What she did tell me is this—it’s imperative that I explain the effects the
gene therapy has on our ability to procreate. I don’t know why this knowledge is so important, but according to her, it’s a matter of life or death.

  One of the side effects of the gene therapy is that the gametes (eggs and sperm) of the survivors will be unstable after the initial mutation. The time it takes for them to stabilize is different for everyone—some never stabilize, and some stabilize in around three years, at which point the survivor can reproduce. When genetic stability has been reached and procreation is once again possible, gestation will occur at an accelerated rate. Gregory has had me experimenting with treatments to speed up the stabilization process, though I’ve yet to be successful. You will find a summary of the data I’ve collected so far enclosed with this letter—these documents have “Project Eden” on the header. Please give them to Gabriel, as he will understand them best.

  Children of two mutated parents are mutated as well, gaining some combination of their parents’ Abilities. I inserted a genetic block into you both when you were young to prevent your Abilities from manifesting. They remained latent until activated by a trigger I built into the Virus. As you are second generation, your Abilities should, in time, prove to be some combination of mine (being able to affect the potency and effectiveness of another’s Ability) and your father’s (being able to alter another’s perception as well as view, and even change their memories and sense their emotions).

  From what Dani told me, Zoe, you take after your father, which will be difficult for you. Tom learned—over a very long time, I might add—that the key to controlling his Ability was to not fight it, to not even think about it, but to let it become an extension of his senses, as integral and second nature as his senses of hearing, sight, smell, touch, and taste.