The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “I’ll look out for him, Sam,” I said and offered the kid a sympathetic smile. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

  With a slight quirk of his lips, Sam plodded past me and out the front door, determined to be strong and grown-up. My hand flew to my heart, and I flashed Tavis a piteous look, pouting my bottom lip. “Heartbreaking.”

  With a nod and relieved sigh, Tavis scratched the top of his head and walked out the front door. “I better make myself useful” were his last words as the screen door swung shut behind him.

  I made my way into the dining-slash-archive-room to search through stacks of diagrams and instructions I’d created over the months, looking for schematics of the Colony and surrounding area.

  Gabe and Becca hurried down the stairs, their bags packed and hanging over their shoulders. “We’re ready,” Becca said as they headed for the door. “The food is already loaded.”

  “Thanks,” I breathed, contemplating. “Hey, Becca…”

  She paused and looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes holding a fierce glint that hadn’t been there mere months ago. “Anything new?” I asked, wondering if she’d had any more visions.

  Becca shook her head apologetically. “No. Sorry, Zoe. Nothing.”

  With a quick nod, I refocused on my messily stacked documents. I riffled around a moment longer before finding what I’d been searching for. “Aha!” With a triumphant exhale, I straightened and peered around the house that had become our home.

  Living with twelve people—fourteen when Camille and Mase were staying here—had become something reassuring and expected in my life. The noise, the support, the love and comfort—it had all become constant and reliable. I imagined how weird it would be for those staying behind, how empty the farm would feel, and how disconnected and lonely we would feel being away from them.

  The screen door flung open again, and this time Dani walked into the house. The look on her face made my insides wad and crumple with sadness and longing and hope, as hers were. There was no way Dani could go with us, not now that she was pregnant, and definitely not after the prophecy Becca had shared about Dani staying at the farm if we wanted the baby to live.

  Dani planted herself in front of me, her bright, gleaming eyes searching mine. “You’ll bring him back to me, Zo?”

  My eyes clouded with tears, and I blinked slowly in hopes of making the pesky things go away. I cleared my throat. “I promise you, D. I’ll do everything I can to bring Jason home.”

  Dani nodded, and she scanned the room like she was lost in a place that should’ve been familiar. She pursed her lips, and the way she rubbed her belly told me she was petrified—too scared of the unknown to be hopeful. “Just make sure you come back, too,” she said, her voice small.

  In one quick step, I was wrapping my arms around her. I tried to ignore the tickle of her wild red hair in my nostrils. “I love you, D.” I squeezed her tighter, wishing I could take away the sorrow and worry that prevented her from smiling anymore. “I made Harper promise to keep a special eye on you while I’m gone. And everyone here wants to help you. Let them, okay? And keep drinking your shakes.”

  Dani’s head bobbed minutely, and she sniffled as she stepped out of my arms. “I will.” She hesitated.

  I wanted to probe, to make sure she really was going to be okay, but I restrained myself. Dani is strong. She’d already survived so much, and she could survive the next few weeks with Chris, Harper, and Carlos at her side. She’d have Mase and Camille, Annie and Sam, and the animals, too. Dani wouldn’t be alone. “You have to be strong for Annie,” I said, helping her to refocus. “I don’t think she understands—”

  “I know, Zo.” Dani smiled weakly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  With a single nod, I let out an unsteady breath, wanting to believe her. “We’ll be back before you know it,” I lied, certain that the next week or so would feel like years. “I love you, D.”

  Dani wrapped her arms around me again, her emotions flaring against her will. “I love you, Zo. Please be careful.” A gut-wrenching sound stuck in her throat. “I can’t lose you both.”

  I gave her a squeeze. “See you in a couple weeks,” I said quickly. With that, I hurried out of the house. I needed to focus on the Colony and Jason if we were going to have any chance bringing him back…alive.

  19

  DANI

  DECEMBER 12, 1AE

  The Farm, California

  Showers these days weren’t all they’d once been. For us, they’d become a stop-and-go outdoors affair, consisting of our jerry-rigged version of a rather large solar shower out back behind the farmhouse and cottage. We might’ve had running water indoors to a small degree, but taking a full-on shower would’ve been far too taxing on our plumbing, and we were still working on our gray water distribution system. And though Jason and Tom had constructed a wooden fence that spiraled around our outdoor shower, giving any bather the illusion of privacy, I still preferred to wear a swimsuit—specifically, the purple- and white-striped bikini I’d lifted on our last trip through Tahoe.

  I glanced down at the loose nylon, trying and failing not to notice how defined my ribs were beneath the bikini top or how clearly my hip bones jutted out. My abdomen still showed no visible sign of the rapidly growing life within, which seemed so strange, because since finding out I was pregnant four days past, the knowledge of it—of him or her—had become an ever-present element of me. I was hyperaware of the child I was carrying, and it was becoming extremely frustrating to me that there was no obvious physical evidence of said child’s existence, aside from the extra aura only Zoe could see glowing around me. Harper claimed it was still too soon, even with the accelerated rate of gestation since the Virus, but still…

  Shoulders hunched, I folded my arms over my middle. No wonder Zoe’s eyebrows were always drawn together, her forehead always creased, her mouth always pinched with worry. She had a big enough crap storm to deal with without me adding to it. But add to it I did.

  I tugged on the dangling handle that triggered the water release and couldn’t hold back a shudder as the chilly water rained down on me. Already present goose bumps multiplied with a vengeance, and I combatted them with memories of my last warm bath. Zoe’d taken the enormous time and effort to draw it for me a few days ago, no doubt hoping a little external comfort would soothe my frayed nerves and settle my uneasy stomach. It had done neither, and it had been an unnecessary luxury, but I’d still appreciated the hell out of it—out of her.

  And now she was gone. Maybe she’d only been gone a few hours, but she was gone nonetheless.

  Jack bounded into the circular washing alcove before the stream cut off overhead and ran a full circuit around me, his wagging tail spraying me with less-than-clean water from seemingly all sides. I couldn’t help but squeal. “Jack! What are you doing, you crazy monster!”

  He paused just long enough to stare up at me with innocent puppy-dog eyes.

  “At least he got you to smile,” Chris said dryly.

  I spun around to the shower’s entrance, where the spiraling fence overlapped a few feet to allow some privacy without requiring a gate—easier maintenance, according to the handier members of our scattered family. Chris stood in the opening, Annie on her hip despite being a smidge too big to be carried around. She gave my body a quick, assessing scan before looking at the brighter portion of twilit sky above the hills to the west.

  “You’re sad,” Annie said, sticking out her bottom lip for emphasis. “You’re not as sad when Jack’s around,” she continued telepathically. “I told him to make you happy again.”

  Jack sat crookedly at my feet—practically on my feet—and stared up at me, tongue lolling, and the dark markings over his eyes nudged higher. “Mother, run?” He scooted even closer and whined almost imperceptibly.

  Chris cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t be out here so late. It’s too cold,” she said, disapproval evident in her voice. “Come inside. There’s hot ch
ili. And biscuits.”

  I looked at her, then glanced away, choosing instead to focus on the bar of soap still resting on the ground a few feet away in its purple plastic traveling case.

  “The others are just sitting down to eat,” Chris added.

  I thought about the others—Carlos, Harper, Grayson, Sam, and Camille and Mase—then took the two steps required to reach the soap and gingerly squatted to retrieve it. Getting back up required the assistance of my hand on the fence and a tired groan. If I went inside with Chris, I wouldn’t only be surrounded by the remaining members of our group, I’d be surrounded by the absence of so many others. And though we’d had people coming and going on search parties for a couple weeks now, this was different. We were missing more of our beloved friends than ever before, and the likelihood of them returning soon was low; the likelihood of them never returning at all, far too high.

  “So you’re ignoring me,” Chris said. “Real mature.”

  I pursed my lips but didn’t look at her. Honestly, I was too ashamed to look at her. Because she was sort of right; I was being an enormous baby, wallowing alone instead of facing my issues with my family. Instead, I glanced down at Jack while I lathered the bar of soap between my hands. “You’ve got to give me a little space, Sweet Boy. Just for a minute.”

  Jack did as I asked, scooting away a few inches and whining all the while. Well, if he was going to insist on remaining so close to me, I wasn’t above using him as an impromptu soap dish.

  “Hold this, please,” I said, setting the bar of soap on top of his furry head, silently promising an abundance of treats later.

  Jack became statue-still.

  I smiled at him, showering him with telepathic praises while I worked the lathered soap through my unruly hair. It felt exceptionally grimy and greasy, not to mention tangly, and I became all too aware that my last bathing experience had actually been the bath Zoe’d drawn for me days ago. Too long when I spent a good part of my days out in the dirt, clearly.

  “So this must be what it’s like to have a teenager…” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Chris set Annie down and angle the little girl back toward the farmhouse. “Go help Daniel set the table.”

  “But—”

  “Now,” Chris said, breaking out her famed mom voice.

  Annie scampered away without further hesitation as I retrieved the bar of soap to get to work on the rest of my body.

  “Alright, Dani, here’s the deal.” Apparently, it was my turn to be the recipient of the mom voice. “Your obstinacy and flat-out refusal to take good care of yourself isn’t only hurting you, it’s hurting the baby.”

  “I—”

  She held up a hand, cutting me off. “And I’m not just talking about this kind of thing,” she said, waving her hand at me and the shower. “You need rest and food and to get a grip on all this drifting, but you also need to take better care of yourself mentally and emotionally.” She planted her fists on her hips. “With Zoe gone for the time being, you’ve got two options: either you start talking to me, or I’m going to start fiddling around in your head.”

  “Chris!” I looked at her, aghast. She knew how deeply I’d grown to despise having people violate my mental and emotional privacy. “You wouldn’t!”

  She crossed her arms and shrugged. Maybe she would? “Either way, we’re going to get to the bottom of what you’re feeling—and why—it’s just a matter of how we get there.” She leaned against the wooden slats, not a care in the world. “Your call, hon.”

  Fuming, I turned my back to her and pulled the lever to trigger the shower. I didn’t even flinch when the stream of near-freezing water hit my skin. When I was all rinsed off, I looked back. Chris was gone.

  ~~~~~

  Dinner was a tense affair—or, rather, filled with the kind of tension that builds when everyone is pretending things are normal, forcing conversation and laughter that in the end only makes the tension worse. It was exactly the kind of tension that Ky had always known just how to diffuse. I missed him, all the time, but this particular dinner was one of those times when the missing became a physical ache in my chest.

  Heart heavy, I sat at the kitchen table and watched Carlos scrub the dishes in a basin at the other end of the table. It was supposed to be my night to do the dishes, but the moment I’d started heating up water to fill the basin, Carlos had stepped in. It was becoming all too clear that Chris had enlisted the others in her efforts to bend me to her will.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I told him, again, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I can wash dishes, you know. I won’t overexert myself.”

  Carlos paused mid-scrub and sent an unamused look to my end of the table. “Seriously, Dani, if you say that one more time…”

  Sighing, I set my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my palms.

  Carlos’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward, his lips pursing as he scrubbed what seemed to be a particularly stubborn dish. “There’s not that many dishes to do anyway,” he said, pausing once more, closing his eyes, and making a pained expression as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, meeting my eyes and looking just as lost as me. We all missed Zoe and the others.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Carlos opened his mouth, and I could practically see the words perched on the tip of his tongue.

  “Decision time,” Chris said from the hallway opening. Her hawkish gaze was locked on me. “What’s it going to be, hon? Traditional therapy or my brand?”

  I sighed heavily, missing Zoe even more. “If you promise to stay away from my brain chemistry, I promise to spill my guts to you.” Under my breath, I added, “Not that I think it’ll do any good.”

  Chris held up her hands defensively. “Whoa, whoa, don’t get so worked up. Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

  “So is your sarcasm,” I muttered.

  “Touché,” Chris said, touching her finger to the side of her nose.

  Harper squeezed past Chris, but not without landing a decent smack on her backside. She squawked, and he winked at me as he passed by the kitchen table and slipped into the mudroom. Seconds later, he poked his head back into the kitchen. “Hey, Dani, I’d like to get a quick checkup in tomorrow morning—before breakfast. Think you could swing by the infirmary first thing?”

  I nodded, and he flashed me a smile before retreating back into the mudroom. Chris followed him, only to reemerge with two fleece-lined raincoats over her arm. She tossed one to me.

  I caught it, more out of defense than any sort of practiced hand-eye coordination. Those kinds of sports had never been my thing. “Wha—”

  “It’s time for your first therapy session.” She shrugged into her coat. “Zee doctor vill see you now,” she said in a terrible, unrecognizable accent.

  “Um, okay…” Slowly, I stood and put on my coat, never taking my eyes off of her. I could only imagine how confused I looked. “But outside?”

  “Well, you didn’t think I’d rearrange my whole schedule just because you’re emotionally constipated, did you?” Chris fumbled around in her pockets, then smiled victoriously. “Ah, thought I had a couple more.” She proudly pulled two sticks of chewing gum out of her right coat pocket, unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth, and offered the second to me. “Helps me concentrate,” she said as she chewed.

  I closed the distance between us and took the proffered stick of gum. “Thanks.” As I unfolded the foil wrapper, I peered at her. My stomach was becoming even more unsettled than usual as I deciphered her meaning. “You don’t mean we’re going to do this out in the stable while you work on Vanessa, do you?”

  Chris continued to chew her gum, her only response a flat smile.

  “But, Chris…she can’t stand me!”

  Chris waved one hand dismissively. “Pshhh…”

  My eyebrows rose. “She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.” Chris made her way toward the mudroom door.
“She’s jealous of you—of how close you and Carlos are.”

  I glanced at Carlos, but he was studiously focused on scrubbing the hell out of the final bowl.

  “Come on.” Chris trudged back into the kitchen, draped her arm over my shoulders, and led me into the mudroom, then outside.

  “For the record, I think this is an awful idea,” I said as we hastily made our way across the lawn. The rain was starting up again, the sky rumbling with far-off thunder. The squish of wet, overgrown grass soon gave way to the crunch of gravel, until finally Chris was sliding open the stable door.

  “It’s a wonderful idea,” Chris said. She linked her arm with mine. “The only way I can make sure I don’t accidentally fiddle with your inner mental workings is to be actively entrenched in someone else’s. Consider it an insurance policy.” She gave my arm a squeeze. “Just in case.”

  “Fine,” I said, giving in begrudgingly. After all, it wasn’t like she was offering me much of a choice, and I preferred to be out there under the pretense of having had some say in the matter—however miniscule. I was, only now, coming to fully appreciate how much of a buffer Zoe had been for me since Jason was taken. Chris, it seemed, had a very different philosophy when it came to taking care of distraught mothers-to-be.

  As we approached Vanessa’s stall at the end of the stable aisle, I held my breath. The outburst would come as soon as she realized that Chris had a guest tonight. Though the type of outburst varied from taunting songs to outright screams of murderous intentions, the fact that there would be an outburst was just that—a fact.

  I closed my eyes when we reached the stall and waited for it. And waited…

  And waited…

  And waited…

  “Vanessa?” Chris said. “Everything okay?”

  My eyes snapped open, and I stared through the barred-off top half of the stall door, certain I would find the space empty…certain I would find Vanessa missing. Except she wasn’t missing. Rather, Vanessa’s face was barely two feet from mine, on just the other side of the bars. And she wasn’t yelling or snarling or even cackling, like she so often did during her imaginary conversations with her hallucinations.