Vanessa looked first at Chris, then at me, tears welling in her eyes. With a gut-wrenching wail, she threw herself back into her stall and onto her cot. Her sobs were so raw, so wretched, they made my heart hurt.
Chris raced into the stall and crouched on the floor beside Vanessa’s bed. “Hon?” She reached for the girl, placing her hand on her arm. “Vanessa?”
“Don’t touch me!” Vanessa shrieked, her voice thick with tears.
Chris recoiled.
“Don’t touch me…don’t touch me…don’t touch me…”
“Chris?” I stood and took a step toward the stall. “What’s going on?” Because it looked like Vanessa’s condition had just taken a major turn for the worse.
Chris looked at me, face ashen. “I think—” She swallowed roughly. “I think I just fixed her.”
31
ZOE
DECEMBER 15, 1AE
Location Unknown
Glazed over and empty, her eyes are a promise of my own future—sucked dry of all that I am, frozen and screaming, unheard in hell. I can feel her dead soul. It’s a stone in a sandstorm. Someone clings to her, to me. I can’t see them, but I feel them and know they’re there. Always there. Waiting. For me to die? The thought is comforting.
I peeled my eyes open. Sandy came in and out of focus, and then I saw him. He was there, again. I wanted to cry out for Carl to make him stop.
Carl’s with me in the bedroom. He’s staring through me again, but his touch is gentle. A rag is cool on my face. I know that acerbic taste, that paralyzed feeling. He’s drugged me again. That, or it’s just too much. Too much blood. Too much humiliation. We’ve been through too much, and I allow myself to believe I’m different than all the others. I’m his exception. I’m the only one he’s cared for like this, the only one he’s been willing to help. I wish he’d help me by making it all go away.
I woke to the scent and taste of vomit. On me. On my clothes. Carl was cursing at me, his hands shaking as he tugged my shirt off over my head, harshly like he was angry with me. I felt compelled to apologize. For throwing up? For existing? Even above my own stench, I could smell the booze; I could tell Carl was drunk. Remotely, I knew I’d been unbound and it was my only chance to fight, to flee and get away, but I could barely keep my eyes open.
Carl’s eyes flicked to mine. When he saw that I was awake, his features softened. “Sorry,” I thought he muttered.
“Zoe.” I hear the voice again, this time it says my name and I feel a strange sense of peace. The voice has haunted me for weeks. It has followed me everywhere—my dreams over the years, these endless nights of hell—and it’s now my only constant. “Zoe…you’ll be okay.” I want to smile. I’m happy the voice is back. I missed it when it was away.
I was jarred awake again, this time by the slamming of the bedroom door. My eyes flitted open, and I blearily scanned the room. I was alone. There was no Carl passed out against the wall, no Randall peering down at me.
“…not fucking working. She’s the same, Randy. She’s the fucking same!”
I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, and their voices grew more distant. “Don’t say that!” Randall shouted back. “Don’t you dare say that. She’s better, she looked at me. Actually looked at me.”
“No, she didn’t,” Carl said, so quiet his voice was almost too muffled to hear.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there!” There were more footsteps and the slamming of drawers and cupboards. “I was right about this type of power. It’s affecting her. I know she remembers me. I can feel it. Her seeing us together, really seeing me…it’s working.”
“Would you listen to yourself!” Carl shouted. “It’s been a year. All the different powers you’ve been shooting into her are only making her worse. My sister’s heart is beating, but she’s fucking dead. Dead! I’m not going to keep doing this!”
“The fuck you aren’t!” It was the angriest I’d ever heard either of them, but the menace in Randall’s voice made me flinch. “If you’d stop drinking so damn much, you’d see that she’s getting better. She’s your sister, for Christ’s sake,” Randall growled. “How can you just give up?” More slamming. “You swore you’d do whatever it takes to fix her, Carl.”
I held my breath, waiting for Carl’s response. Hope bloomed inside me, and I wanted to cry. I was so desperate for him to let me go.
“What if you’re wrong?” Carl finally said. “What if she’s not getting better?”
“She is. And we’re just wasting time.” There were heavy footsteps down the hall. “Prep the blood source. I’m drawing more as soon as I get back with more supplies. I think tonight might be the night. We’ll do whatever it takes.” The resolve in Randall’s voice brought tears to my eyes, and I couldn’t help the tremble in my chin. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this. The days already bled together or were lost to unconsciousness. Had it even been days? Or had it been weeks? It felt like one long, endless nightmare.
Eventually I heard the front door slam. The house shook and then went silent.
I tried to compose myself, knowing Carl would be heading into my room any minute. He would try to wake me, to feed me, to make me drink something before giving me more drugs. I couldn’t let that happen. For whatever reason, there weren’t as many drugs in my system; my mind wasn’t as heavy, though I still felt weak and achy.
I wiped a few falling tears from my eyes, then froze, staring at my hands. There were raw ligature marks around my wrists, but I wasn’t bound.
Hearing footsteps coming up the hall, I shoved my arms back under the covers and shut my eyes, pretending I was asleep. Randall was gone. It was just Carl and me. I’d been untied. It didn’t matter how hazy my mind was. I knew this was my one and only chance to get away.
The instant the door opened, my heart started to race and my mind buzzed back to life, but I forced my heaving chest to steady. Carl’s footsteps were slow. They’d never been so condemning and encouraging at the same time.
What do I do? Carl was still nulling me, so I couldn’t use my Ability in any way. I hadn’t heard the door latch when he came in, and I hoped the shotgun was still outside in the hallway, though I had to come up with a backup plan in case it wasn’t. I just needed to figure out how the hell I was going to get past him…overpower him…but the thought of that alone was enough to make it all seem hopeless.
Carl paused beside my bed for a moment. What was probably only seconds felt like minutes, suspended. Then, he turned and quickly left the room, and I heard the door latch this time.
I let out my breath, holding it again as I listened for his footsteps in the hallway. I waited for them to descend the stairs, but they didn’t. It sounded like he had headed down the hall, into Sandy’s room. When I heard what I thought was a chair scraping against the floor, I opened my eyes and slowly sat up.
It felt like my arms had been shredded, that my head had been filled with cotton, and my heart was racing so fast, echoing so loudly in my ears, it was all I could hear. I hoped Carl wasn’t coming back up the hallway, because I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the sound of my fear.
Ignoring my body’s protests, I flung off the blanket and reached for the rope tying my ankles together. I fumbled with it, willing my fingers to work quickly and efficiently, though it seemed they’d forgotten how to do anything. But I didn’t struggle for long. The rope came off more easily than I’d expected, as if Carl hadn’t put much effort into binding me to begin with.
I didn’t have time to wonder too much if it was because he’d been too drunk to tie the rope right, or if he’d been cautious of the sores the ropes had produced around my ankles. Or was there another reason entirely? I hung my legs over the side of the bed. Briefly, I tried to remember the last time I’d wiggled my toes or felt the floor beneath my feet.
I stood up as quietly as I could. The hardwood made no noise as I wobbled and had to brace myself on the mattress for balance. Had I any modesty
left, I would’ve cared that I only wore a man’s shirt. It was oversized, but it barely reached my upper thighs.
After a few deep, steadying breaths, I crept to the door, trying to stay upright and not make a sound. I was conscious of every foot placement, every muscle I forced to work despite the tingling numbness that began to spread throughout my body.
I listened intently for any movement outside the room before I reached for the doorknob. I turned it, ever so slightly, and cringed as the metal latch seemed to clank and echo throughout the entire house. I stared at the hinges and held my breath as I slowly pulled the door open.
Pausing mid-open, I listened again. There was still nothing. Adrenaline and fatigue made my body tremble. I opened the door a bit further and nearly sobbed in relief when I saw the shotgun leaning against the wall. I stuck my head through the doorway.
Blinking a few times to focus, I gazed around anxiously, half expecting to find Carl standing there, waiting for me. But he wasn’t. I peered down the hall into Sandy’s room and found him sitting in a chair beside her bed. His back was to me and his head was in his hands.
Closing my eyes, I ignored my weak, shaking body and bolstered my resolve to pick up the shotgun. Pick it up! If you want to live, pick up the gun… Carl would hear me the instant I did, I knew he would, there was no way around it. I just had to be able to aim and shoot him when the time came.
Not allowing myself to waste any more time, I stepped out of the room and grabbed the shotgun. It was much heavier than I expected, but I was determined to leave, to fight and kill and scream bloody murder if needed to get out of that house.
Shifting, I turned toward Sandy’s room and lifted the shotgun, ready to aim for Carl barreling down the hallway toward me. But he hadn’t moved.
I stepped closer and closer, my arms already tired and burning, but determination held the gun in place. I blinked once, twice, and took a few more steps. I didn’t care about the details anymore, about the rooms I passed or what I could see out the windows. I could only focus on Carl and the fact that he wasn’t moving. Is this a trick? Was he dead?
Finally, the floor creaked beneath my feet, and I froze, the shotgun’s nozzle only a few feet from the back of Carl’s head. “Do it,” he murmured.
My heart stopped momentarily, and my resolve wavered.
He whipped around in his chair. “Do it!”
I knew he meant to frighten me, to coerce me. And I knew I should shoot him. He was right in front of me, and I had the gun. Freedom was a finger twitch away. Carl was giving me that, and yet he’d let Randall hurt me, let him shame me and turn me into an object, a blood bank, a thing to be used and discarded. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull the trigger. I couldn’t kill him.
“Please,” he whispered. His empty eyes were pleading.
My hands were sweating, my body trembling. I can just walk away.
Then my eyes met Sandy’s. Those dead eyes, that curl of her lip, that drawn face that haunted my dreams. I needed to put her out of her misery. I needed to end it, all of it.
“Carl,” I breathed, my attention transfixed in the depth of her pain.
I heard footsteps up the stairs and realized Randall hadn’t really left, or he’d already returned, before I could decide what to do. My body took over, and I turned and lifted the gun, praying I could shoot him before he reached me.
Then I froze. Jake was standing in the doorway, his pistol aimed at me. My chest heaved and my eyes clouded with tears as I tried to convince myself that he was real. All I could do was stare at him. His familiar face drained of color and his eyes gleamed as they scoured every inch of me. I let out a whimper and dropped the shotgun, and it clanked and thudded to the ground. But Jake’s pistol was still aimed at me.
I was confused. “Ja—Jake?”
But when I heard movement behind me, I realized Jake wasn’t aiming at me, but at Carl. Weakly, I pivoted slightly to find him standing by Sandy’s bed, his dark, stringy hair hanging in his face. He turned away from his sister to face me and Jake. Carl’s features had softened, the tension around his eyes lessened. He almost looked relieved and then he closed his eyes.
“Don’t fucking move,” Jake growled, but Carl smiled, ignoring him as he reached behind his back.
There was one shot, then another.
I shouted, my hands flying to cover my mouth as I watched two crimson stains grow and spread over Carl’s chest. He fell with a heavy thud to the floor. His fingers twitched around the pint of vodka he’d pulled from his back pocket, and his eyes fixed on Sandy as they dulled and began to dim. I shook my head and took a few awkward steps toward him. A disturbing mixture of relief and sadness flooded me, and I fought to grasp just one.
Carl gasped for air, and I could see his life, see him unfolding in my mind as my Ability jump-started again. I could feel his regret, could taste the blood staining his teeth. I saw me. I felt his love for his twin sister, turned Crazy, turned monster. I felt the ease with which he took his final breath before his life was extinguished and he was gone.
And then I fell to my knees and silently cried. For him. For me. For Sandy.
“Zoe,” Jake whispered, and he crouched beside me. He tentatively reached for me, and I shut my eyes, hating that he saw me like this, that the people whose hurried footsteps carried them into the room saw me like this. But I didn’t care enough to move.
I could feel Jake’s unhinged concern and anger. He was afraid to touch me. “There’s another one,” I said, but I didn’t open my eyes. I knew the moment I did, I would see the expression on Jake’s face and crumble.
“He’s already dead,” Sanchez said quietly from the doorway.
Randall’s dead? And though I didn’t think it was possible given the fact that Jake was already here, with me, I felt even better. It was over.
I could feel other minds in the house—near the room, downstairs—but I ignored them.
Finally, I opened my eyes and stared down at myself. I needed a bath, needed clothes… I shifted my gaze to meet Jake’s. He was distressed, questioning. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and I could see the truth of things in his amber eyes. I was a mess with my purple and green arms, my bandaged bicep and bloody wrists and ankles, my ashen skin… I knew that some of the others were injured—Tavis was dead. And there was something else looming around him, something big, but I didn’t want to feel any of it. I didn’t think I could bear it. So I let out a groan and pushed his mind and everyone else’s away.
“I’m disgusting,” I whined, hoping to put a smile on Jake’s face, but it was barely audible.
His eyes were gleaming, but he tried to smile. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.
I nodded, and Jake gathered me precariously into his arms. “I won’t break,” I said automatically, but the worry and pain in his eyes told me it looked otherwise.
Jake held me tight against his chest as I gripped onto his shirt, to that smell so acute and perfectly him that I swore to myself it was my new favorite shirt and, despite its dirty, tattered appearance, I would never let him wash it again. The tighter I gripped him, the easier it was to push the impending sobs away.
As Jake rose to his feet, I remembered Sandy. When I looked over my shoulder at her, she was staring up at the ceiling, oblivious to our presence. “We have to help her,” I said, begged him with my eyes. “We can’t leave her like this.”
Jake considered my words for a moment, his eyes fixed on the half-dead woman, before nodding at me and then at Sanchez.
I looked at her, relief flooding me as I realized my no-nonsense sparring partner, my friend, was still alive, though her face was a bit swollen and bruises colored her cheeks. She offered me a pursed-lip nod of her own as Jake carried me toward the doorway. I glanced one last time at Carl’s body, a heap on the floor. My exhaustion outweighed any satisfaction or remorse I might’ve felt had I been in a different state of mind.
I wound my arms around Jake’s neck, relieved to see that at least he
and Sanchez were okay, and as we exited the room, I noticed others lined up in the hallway. Becca was there first, her eyes filled with relief as she draped a white coat over me.
I flashed her a weak but grateful smile and noticed Gabe standing beside her. He looked distraught, but offered me a nod as I passed. Then I locked eyes with my dad, and I couldn’t stop the instant sobs I’d been trying to lock away.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he croaked, and Jake slowed long enough for my dad to lean in to kiss my forehead, tears of his own filling his eyes. “I was so afraid…”
But before I could say anything, I saw a large form that was all too distinguishable through my blurred vision. “Jason,” I said and brusquely wiped the tears from my eyes. It was him, standing there with his aggravatingly expressionless face, like always. He was alive. He was there. They’d found him. It had all been worth it.
“Hey, Zoe,” he said, but I was scrambling out of Jake’s arms, nearly stumbling, too ecstatic to care because my brother was alive. I wasn’t sure whose arms were around who first, his trying to help me up or mine clinging to him.
“I started to think you were dead, but then the dream…” I trailed off because it didn’t matter. None of that did anymore. My dream, Becca’s vision that I’d gleaned, had never come to pass. We could go home, all of us. Jason held me more tightly, and I let out a happy, choked sob.
But when I opened my eyes, I gasped, stunned and confused. A teenage boy was standing next to me with dark, disheveled hair, proffering the white lab coat that had been draped around me. “You should probably put this on,” he said. He looked sickly, but his eyes were illuminated with curiosity and kindness.
Tentatively, I took the coat from him and carefully shrugged it on, wondering why he seemed so familiar to me. When I saw my mom at the top of the landing, watching with tears in her eyes, I knew.
Feeling light-headed all over again, I glanced between them. My mom was here…away from the Colony. With my dad and Jason and…
The Ending Series: The Complete Series Page 158