The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “Do you think we should be concerned about our Abilities?” I asked Gabe. “I mean, not necessarily death-by-Ability-drainage or anything, but do you think they’ll ever stop evolving? Ever stop getting stronger?”

  Gabe looked at me askance. I knew something ingenious played behind his shrewd, pale blue eyes, thoughts and ideas most of us only ever managed a slight glimpse of. “It’s hard to say, but I don’t think so. Think of it like a muscle. The more you use it—control it—the stronger it gets…the more fine-tuned and well-honed.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” I said. I wondered if, like Dani and Annie, who struggled to balance living in the two worlds their minds occupied—animal and human—the rest of us might face a loss of control at some point, a struggle to be us instead of it.

  “Zoe, you strengthen your Ability, you hone it. I don’t think you have to worry about it becoming bigger than you are.” Hoping he was right, I nodded and let out a breath.

  When I saw Annie pick up a goat poop pellet and eye it carefully, I straightened. “Annie, you’re not supposed to touch the goat poop.”

  “But Cinnamon says he eats Willy’s poop all the time.” Both goats looked at me and bahed in unison.

  “That’s because goats will eat anything,” I said and pointed to the ground. “Drop it.” Annie scrunched her face, disgruntled, but she didn’t argue. “Go to the trough and rinse off your hands, please. And remind me to bathe you in bleach before dinner,” I muttered.

  Gabe laughed. “Please do,” he said. “And that’s my cue. See you at supper.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Oh, and Gabe?”

  He paused mid-turn. “Yeah?”

  “We’re lucky to have you here. Who doesn’t need a scientist in this day and age?” I flashed him a rueful smile, which I hoped was both endearing and also reassuring; he belonged with us, no matter his unease.

  He gave me a small quirk of a grin in return and disappeared around the side of the stable.

  Annie trudged over to the trough and primly submerged her hands, the act of washing more a routine I wanted her to get used to than an effective way to remove all poop particles from her hands.

  I sighed and rumpled her hair. “You sure are crazy cute, Annie.”

  She beamed up at me with her missing-tooth grin, and I shook my head. “Come on, let’s finish our chores.”

  By the time Annie and I finished feeding and chatting with the goats and had moved on to the chickens, what I could see of the sun shining through the clouds was setting behind the rolling, emerald hills. “It’s getting late,” I grumbled, anxious for my dad and Jake to return.

  And like they’d drifted in on the breeze, I heard crunching gravel and distant, rumbling laughter coming up the drive.

  “They’re back!” Annie screeched, her pail of chicken feed forgotten as it crashed to the ground. “Presents!” she called and ran toward the stable and the approaching horses. Deciding a little extra feed wouldn’t hurt the chickens, I collected the bucket, leaving the spilled contents behind, and followed after Annie.

  I set the bucket outside the stable door and looked up at Jake as he and Brutus clomped to a stop at the hitching post. Jake’s penetrating gaze was already fixed on me, making my cheeks burn, and a smile engulfed my face. Leaning against the siding, I watched him and my dad, their stature and demeanor so different, but both a welcome sight all the same. My dad raked his fingers through his slicked-back, ashy-brown hair as he smiled at Annie, who was jumping up and down in the gravel.

  Although I’d seen it numerous times over the months, I was still getting used to the sight of my dad and Jake riding side by side—or, rather, of my dad riding beside any of my new friends, given the fact that around this time last year, I’d thought he’d died of the Virus. Now he wasn’t only alive, he was living with all of us: the man I loved, my brother who it had taken me months to find, Dani, and my friends who felt more like family.

  Jason strolled over to us from behind the barn. His long sleeves were covered in dirt, but Annie didn’t care. She immediately jumped up into his arms and began bouncing with pure enthusiasm in his hold. “Do you think they brought me something?”

  “Maybe,” Jason said with a small chuckle. “You have to be patient and see.” He glanced at Jake and Grandpa Tom. “How’d it go? Any trouble?”

  “Without a hitch,” my dad said and dismounted his gray horse, Poppy. He moved to untie the small duffel secured behind his saddle.

  “Always good news,” Jason said, brushing Annie’s crazy curls away from his face.

  “Did you bring presents?” Annie chirped, twitching with anticipation in Jason’s arms. Her eyes were wide and imploring.

  My dad gave Annie an exaggerated frown. “I didn’t get you anything this time, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

  Annie’s face instantly fell. “S’okay,” she mumbled.

  “Wait just a second…” We all pivoted to look at Jake, who was turned in his saddle, searching through his saddlebag. “How did this little guy get in here?” He pulled out a white stuffed wolf.

  Annie squealed and slithered out of Jason’s arms. She ran up to Brutus, the horse’s head bobbing more to keep from getting hit in the face than because Annie’s high pitch and flailing movements spooked him.

  “It’s just like Snowflake!” Annie jumped up and down, dancing in place as she waited for Jake to dismount. After a thud, both of Jake’s boots were planted on the ground. He crouched down and offered Annie the stuffed wolf that bore an eerie resemblance to the Tahoe pack’s alpha female.

  Snatching the wolf from his hands, Annie hugged it against her, then lifted it to her nose. “It doesn’t smell like Snowflake, though.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Jason muttered. “What do you say to Jake for your present?” We all liked to spoil Annie, more than we probably should have, but she’d been so deprived before, she’d been through so much, most of us couldn’t resist an opportunity to put a smile on her face. Though every now and again we tried to introduce some discipline and instill some manners in the free-spirited little girl.

  “Thank you, Jake!” Annie wrapped her arms around his neck and quickly pulled away, skipping off with her new wolf, leaving us all smiling after her.

  “Always wanted to see you with kids one day, son,” my dad said to Jason, but I didn’t need to be a part of that conversation, so I tuned them out.

  Jake stepped up beside me and wrapped his arms around my waist. A twinge of pain pulsed in my side, remnants of my failed sparring match, so I leaned into him—carefully.

  “Hey,” he murmured against my temple.

  I peered up at him. “Hey yourself.”

  “How was your day?” His rich, amber eyes were searching and bright. Juxtaposed with his dark lashes and the week’s worth of scruff that shadowed his features, he seemed almost dangerous, in a carnal, alluring sort of way. “Did you kick some butt today in training?”

  I shook my head and leaned into his chest, resting my cheek against him as I watched Jason and my dad carry on a stilted conversation. “Not exactly. Let’s just say I was demoted to light duty today.”

  Jake’s body tensed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, growing more lethargic by the minute. His warmth was comforting in the promise of dusk and worsening wind. “Annie and I have been feeding the animals. I’ve been watching her all afternoon so Dani and Becca could work at the Re-gen farms with Grayson, Camille, and Mase. They’ve decided to help them set up their new vegetable garden.”

  Jake kissed the top of my head, and I felt his lips part into a smile. “I’m not sure Annie qualifies as ‘light duty,’” he joked.

  I thought about the goat poop and couldn’t help smiling myself. “There’s definitely never a dull moment around her, but she’s fun.”

  Jake’s voice sobered. “Why light duty? What happened?”

  I looked up to reassure him. “It’s nothing big. I’m sure Sanchez will fill you in
. I—”

  “Sorry to do this to you, Jake,” Jason interrupted, and I pulled free from Jake’s arms. Jason took the small duffel from my dad. “Since we have the tools now, I could use your help with something before it gets dark.”

  “Sure,” Jake said and he reached up for Brutus’s reins.

  Seeing Jason’s vague request for what it was—a window of opportunity for me to speak with my dad alone—I ran my hand down Brutus’s slick neck. “I’ll unsaddle him for you,” I said and looked up at Jake.

  He flashed me a smile and gave me a peck on the lips. “Thank you—oh, and I was thinking it’s about time for another overnight hunting trip. Maybe tomorrow, weather permitting. Care to join?” he asked. I glanced to my dad who was tending to Poppy, oblivious.

  “Just you and me?”

  Jake’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and with a small, yet ecstatic smile, I nodded.

  Over the past few months, I’d found a strange solace in taking small hunting trips with Jake and Cooper, and sometimes a few of the others. My bow skills came in handy—quiet and quick compared to the resounding crack of a rifle or shotgun. But as adrenaline-pumping as those trips were, it was the solo time I got to spend with Jake that I looked forward to the most.

  Jake turned and followed Jason toward the work shed, and the clanking sound of metal brought me back to the present. My fingers were swift and agile as I began loosening cinches and unbuckled Brutus’s bridle, thinking about what exactly I should say to my dad.

  “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asked as he removed Poppy’s bit and replaced the horse’s bridle for a less intrusive halter. When my dad glanced over at me, he paused. “What’s that on your shirt? Is that a footprint?” His tone was light and full of mirth.

  I hated dredging up the past, ruining his mood, but I knew I had to eventually. I tied Brutus’s red halter around his neck. “Yep. It’s a muddy boot print.”

  Because Dad was so much like me, I knew he’d sensed something was up. Instead of probing around in my head, he waited. “Sounds like you had an interesting day.”

  “You could say that. Apparently I’m a shitty fighter when I’m distracted. Go figure.”

  We bustled around in silence for a few seconds, tending to the horses and remarking on the consistently dreary weather, before my dad finally asked, “What’s on your mind, Zoe?”

  “Well,” I said, “since you asked…” Focusing my full attention on his expression, I turned to face him and leaned against Brutus’s shoulder. “Have you ever erased my memories, Dad?” We were an interesting pair, him and I. Because now that I knew the truth about my lineage and my childhood, honesty was the only stable foundation on which we could build our new relationship. And given our Abilities, if my dad lied to me, I would know.

  “I can’t erase memories, Zoe.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean, Dad. I’ve met General Herodson before, haven’t I?”

  His hands froze, clutching the front and back of Poppy’s saddle, ready to remove it.

  “And I saw Mom that day, too. That’s the day the General said he’d put the Monitors on us…and you erased any memory I had of her.” My voice was brittle, emotions I hadn’t realized I’d been feeling rising to the surface. I swallowed them.

  My dad removed the saddle and walked into the stable, no doubt giving him time to think or compose his response. When he returned, his eyes flicked to me, then back to his horse. “Your memories are resurfacing,” he said.

  “Apparently,” I whispered, my eyes roaming the hills beyond the fence line—the white Milkmaids that sprouted through the grasses were almost violet in the dying light. All sunlight had evanesced behind the clouds, and a chill curled up my spine. “What else have you hidden from us?” My voice was hollowed by the realization that there still seemed to be secrets I had yet to unearth.

  My dad finally stopped his busywork and stood beside me. He took my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Nothing as big as that, Zoe. I promise you.” He stared at me for a moment, and I saw a slew of emotions in the steel-blue depths of his eyes, emotions I’d only seen on one other occasion: the day he’d altered my memory. This new dad of mine was someone I felt I barely knew, someone I was still trying to figure out. “I’m so damn sorry I had to do that to you, sweetheart. But you were so young…”

  His empty, desolate expression from that day was etched into my mind. “You didn’t want to do it.”

  My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me over to one of the benches set against the side of the stable. “I wanted you to remember your mom, Zoe. I wanted you both to be able to know her. But I didn’t want you to remember her like that. I didn’t want you to remember Herodson or how scared you were—how horrible he was. The fewer questions you could ask, the better.” My dad was quiet for a moment, then pulled me tighter against him. “And I didn’t want your brother to find out. I didn’t want to give him another reason to hate me. It was selfish, I know.”

  My dad let out a ragged, almost reluctant breath. “The day your mom came home was bittersweet.” He released me and leaned forward, like he needed to prepare for the surmounting emotions and memories he’d been trying to forget all these years, and rested his elbows on his knees. “I knew she would never come back again, not after how close she’d come to losing everything she’d worked so hard for to keep us all safe. She’d never risk the outcome of disobeying him again. And that night I finally accepted that our family would never be whole again, and I think a part of me was just…gone.”

  I watched my dad as he gazed around the farm, first at the gravel in front of us, then at the farmhouse and barn and shed, then at our scattered friends, who were cleaning up and putting away their tools for the night. His eyes rested on my brother, laughing with Jake as he shut the door to the shed and headed out, toward the orchard.

  “I hid it from you, knowing I’d have to live with the truth for the rest of my life but the two of you would be somewhat free. I assumed that you both thinking you had a dead mother was better than knowing you had one who’d left you, twice.”

  When my dad looked at me again, his eyes shimmered. “I love you, sweetheart, no matter how shitty of a dad I’ve been…you’re my little girl, and I’ve always loved you.” He kissed the side of my head, and I felt my throat constrict.

  I ignored the resentment and frustration I’d felt toward him growing up, the anger I’d carried since learning he’d lied about his death. And I ignored my sorrow for what his life had been. “I love you too, Dad,” I said, because remembering the day he’d come back to life, the day he’d shown up in the farm’s driveway and how happy it had made me, was all that mattered. We were a family, and we needed each other, no matter what.

  A forgotten memory from that day sparked my curiosity. “When you first showed up here and I told you about Peter, you seemed genuinely surprised, like you had no idea.”

  Slowly, my dad shook his head and he stared down at his hands. “I never knew what happened to the baby. I didn’t know if your mom miscarried, or if the child had actually been born. A part of me hoped something had happened, that a monster like Gregory would never be allowed to bring a child into this world, and I never let myself consider the other possibilities. Definitely not that your mom would raise his child, that she would love it as much as she loved you kids. But I was kidding myself.” My dad’s eyes were asking and hopeful, willing me to know the truth. “Zoe, your mom isn’t the sort of woman to mistreat or deprive a child. And I’m not surprised she loves him so much. What else does she have to live for there, with him?”

  I’d never really considered how hard it was for my dad not only to lose his wife, but to have her leave him for another man. She’d had no choice, but still; she lived with Herodson, slept in his bed. I found myself staring through my dad, a war waging inside of me—the girl who yearned for the family she’d always wanted and the bitter woman who hated all that her family had done.

  “I
know you can’t ever forgive your mom, Zoe, but—”

  I shook my head, a plea for him to stop. It was like my life was an epic battle—two waves crashing together because it’s the nature of their existence and they have no other choice. I closed my eyes and tried to articulate some part of what I was feeling. “I want to forgive her, Dad,” I said for the first time aloud. “I think about it all the time. I hate her for what she did, but I love her for trying to save us. Then every time I feel someone’s mind, their pain and anger, their sadness, or when I think too much about the way life is now, about how my mom is this specter of death and secrets, I get confused all over again.” I felt my eyes burn with unshed tears, but I ignored them. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning.” I looked at my dad. His eyes had softened as he listened. “I barely remember the person I was a year ago.”

  I cleared my throat and let out a steadying breath. “Every time I hear one of Vanessa’s outbursts or feel Carlos’s constant distress, it all goes back to Mom—the doctor. Every stilted word that comes out of a Re-gen, their dulled view of the world…” I stared down at my dirty fingernails. “It’s like a bullhorn reminder to never forget who Mom is and why I should hate her.”

  My dad placed his hand gently on my knee. “Just give it more time, sweetheart. That’s all you can do. I don’t expect the making of the last twenty-five years to be undone in mere months. I know it’s tough to process, but if nothing else, it will make you a stronger person later. It’s like any other scar, they’re all—”

  I smiled. “I know, Dad. They’re all reminders of how strong we are.”

  He nudged my shoulder. “I guess I used that one a lot, huh?”

  Squinting, I pinched the air between my thumb and index finger. “Juuuust a little.”

  My dad chuckled and patted my knee. “Are you going to be okay?”