Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “You don’t know that.”

  Jake leaned back against the tree, his body rigid and a scowl on his face. “I know you. You won’t risk everyone you love, everyone who’s been there for you, for her.” He paused. “You won’t risk Dani.” Slowly, his arms wrapped around me, and he pulled me into him. “I’m in this with you. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

  His tone was so adamant, his gaze so determined, that I could only trust him, trust my heart, despite the difficulties I knew lay in store for me…for us. Allowing my hope to bloom into a small smile, I shrugged. “You’re probably right, but I won’t know for sure until after tonight.”

  In the shadows of the dusk light, I watched Jake’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s tonight?”

  I hesitated. “Gabe’s taking me to talk to her.”

  ~~~~~

  “So,” Gabe said, standing in front of me on the same stretch of beach he’d constructed the last time he’d entered my dreams, before Dani, Jason, and the others had joined us outside Cañon City. “Is it all you expected and more?” He glanced around at the dream world surrounding us.

  I smiled nervously, my emotions a dangerous mixture that had me second-guessing my decision to do this. “At least there’s no unnerving replica of Dani sitting beside me this time.”

  Gabe laughed. “I forgot about that. You didn’t like my Dani avatar?”

  I shook my head.

  Gabe waited for a moment, no doubt giving me time to change my mind and go back to dreams that didn’t include meeting my mom for the first time while I was actually me.

  Finally, he said, “Are you ready?”

  Taking a deep breath, I shrugged. I’d come too far to change my mind when I was so close. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He smirked. “I’ve heard you say that before,” he muttered. “Let’s go find her.”

  Reaching out, I touched Gabe’s arm. “Hey, Gabe?”

  He stilled mid-step, glanced down at where my hand rested on his arm, then at me.

  “Thank you for doing this.”

  Gabe smiled. “Say my name when you’re ready, and we’ll try to visit some of the members of the Bodega Bay Town Council before we call it a night.”

  I nodded, and the next thing I knew, it was late afternoon, and I was standing in my backyard at my childhood home in Bodega Bay. A young Jason swung in the tire swing hanging from the cypress tree next to the deck. The sight made my chest tighten. There were so many memories in that house, so much loneliness.

  I watched as Jason swung lazily back and forth, oblivious to me standing there. He was a pretty cute kid for being such a butthead, and part of me thought I could see a little bit of my dad in him at that age, something I’d never really picked up on before.

  But as strange as it was to be home and to be watching my brother as a small child, it wasn’t true to life, making it more disturbing than nostalgic. The difference was that my dad was standing behind Jason, playing the role of the attentive father spending time with his son in the yard after a day spent in his woodshop. His work clothes looked true to life, and the tousled, light brown hair he’d always run his fingers through was appropriate. But Dad standing with Jason while he played in the yard was unlikely. If anything, Jason often went to the tire swing to get away from Dad—at least he had in his later years.

  Scanning the rest of the yard, I froze.

  I’d tried to prepare myself to see her, but my heart still thudded in my chest when I saw my mom sitting on the edge of the deck. She wore dark slacks and a white button-down shirt as if she had just come home from work herself. She was watching my dad and Jason so intently, with such longing, I felt it bleeding my soul.

  Unlike the single photograph I had of her, she appeared tired, her eyes devoid of the peaceful glow that I knew once filled them.

  Like she could suddenly feel my greedy stare devouring the sight of her, she scanned the breadth of the yard until she found me.

  Remembering the emotional woman who’d saved me in the golf course, I’d expected her expression to give something away, to show some sign of the emotions that had filled her eyes but that I hadn’t been able to understand at the time. But now, her expression was surprisingly blank.

  Slowly, she rose to her feet and took a half a dozen steps toward me, her eyes holding mine the entire time. She stopped a few feet away.

  I tried to think about what I wanted to say to her. I had a hundred questions, each of which I was scared to learn the answers to: Does some small part of her love the General at all? Did she ever try to come back to us? Does she regret everything she’s done? Will Jason and I ever be safe? Does she love Peter more than us?

  “Zoe,” she said quietly in greeting. “You seem…better.”

  I nodded absently but wondered exactly what that meant. Better? Than when—the last time she saw me?

  “Are you alright?”

  I looked up at her, and the weight of my trepidation, curiosity, longing, and confusion surged to life, nearly overwhelming me to the point of speechlessness. Just looking at her made me want to cry. I swallowed thickly. “I can’t believe I’m standing next to you…after all this time…”

  Her face softened, and she offered me a weak smile.

  I stared into her piercing blue-green eyes and wanted so badly to know what she was thinking, to know what she was feeling, to know that my presence affected her more than the guarded expression on her face allowed her to show, but my Ability didn’t work inside the dream world.

  After studying me in return, she made a sweeping gesture toward the back deck. “Do you want to sit down?”

  With only a couple feet that felt like a mile between us, we started toward the steps of the deck.

  “I like the new haircut,” she said, her voice lighter than I’d expected.

  “Thanks.” It was an automatic response. “I needed a change.”

  “I can imagine.”

  I knew I’d caught her off guard by showing up in her dream, but I’d expected our first real conversation would include more than idle chatter about my hair. Maybe some tears or an embrace, but she was composed and hesitant.

  Slowly, she climbed to the top step and sat down. She clasped her hands together and rested them on her knee like we were two strangers having an uncomfortable conversation. We were two strangers, but she was also my mom, and I was her daughter.

  I sat on the second-to-last step and leaned against the railing. “I didn’t know it could feel worse,” I thought aloud.

  She straightened as if she were bracing herself for a verbal lashing. “That what could feel worse?” she asked tentatively.

  “The loneliness.”

  Her brow tensed. “I don’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through,” she said a bit tenderly. “But I’m glad you came.”

  I felt a rekindle of hope. “You are?”

  She nodded. “I assumed that once your memory returned and you truly understood everything I’ve done, well, I suppose I assumed you would never want to see me again. So you can imagine my surprise.”

  “But you’re my mom,” I said a little breathily. “I’ve wanted to know you my entire life.” As I sat there with sweating palms and a racing heart, she appeared mostly unaffected, and I realized she was right—she had no idea what I’d gone through without her, how I felt now sitting only feet from her.

  Needing to look away, to grasp onto my thoughts and feelings before I lost myself to them completely, I stared down at the vibrant redwood slats beneath me. Her version of the yard, her version of my family, was so much different than I remembered it. “The backyard doesn’t really look like this anymore,” I said.

  “No?”

  I shook my head, picking diligently at a blemish in the wood grain. “The deck’s sun-bleached now and rotting in some spots. When Jason left for the Army, Dad sort of stopped taking care of the place.”

  Remembering one particular night of clandestine adventures with Dani, I leaned back and over the length of t
he step above me, searching the railing for a part of my past.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  When I didn’t see anything but smooth wood, I sighed, unsure why I’d expected one of my memories to be reflected in her dream. “Dani and I carved our initials in this support post one day.” I laughed softly, bitterly. “Dad pretended to be upset, but I knew he didn’t really care. He didn’t care much about anything…”

  “I didn’t realize he would take my leaving the way he did,” she said. “If I would have known—”

  “You wouldn’t have left?”

  She looked down to her hands, avoiding my gaze.

  “Would you still have left us if you knew Dad was going to be such a wreck?”

  Straightening minimally, she gave me a brief nod. “I didn’t have a choice, Zoe.” Her voice was low, but pleading.

  “What about now? We know about you—what you’ve done—and we’re willing to take the risk. You don’t have to stay with him, you don’t have to be a part of it anymore…we can try to salvage our family,” I said, my vision beginning to blur.

  “I’m sorry, Zoe, but I can’t leave. Peter needs me and I—”

  “You would stay with them, the General and his son, and forget about us?”

  She seemed to deflate. “I could never forget about you and your brother,” she said. Her voice was thin and her eyes gleamed.

  “Then come back…” I hated the desperation in my voice, but I couldn’t help it.

  She reached out for me, her warm hand gently clasping my shoulder. “It’s not so easy, Zoe, you have to understand.”

  “Then tell me. Why? Why can’t you leave Peter? Leave the General? Why didn’t you come with me when you saved me from Clara? Do you love your new life, your new family, so much? Do you—”

  “He’s sick, Zoe.”

  My mouth was open, but there were no words.

  “Peter needs to stay at the Colony, and I won’t leave him. Please, don’t ask me to abandon another one of my children, to leave him in Gregory’s hands.” She shook her head, a tear escaping down her cheek, and she swiftly brushed it away. “I won’t lose another child because of my past decisions.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry.” This time her tone was a bit colder.

  I nodded. Not in understanding, but because I guess I never really thought she’d come back to us. Otherwise she would’ve already found a way.

  “Bring him with you,” I blurted. “We’ll figure things out…you’re all we have left. I don’t—”

  “He has to stay in the Colony, Zoe. There are things he needs, things I couldn’t give him if we were anywhere else.”

  I struggled to swallow the lump thickening in my throat. I tried to feel sympathy for Peter, the half-brother I’d never met, but he was nothing to me. The knowledge that my mom was sitting in front of me and refusing to rejoin what remained of our family was too painful to ignore. “Now that you have Peter”—I wrung my hands in my lap—“do you still regret leaving us?” Despite the drumming of my heart and the sound of my own voice echoing in my ears, all I could focus on was her answer.

  Her brow furrowed. “Of course I do. I wish things had been different—that I could’ve watched you and Jason grow up, that I could’ve been a part of your lives. But I don’t regret leaving to save you. How could I?”

  Trying to ignore the burning ache in my chest, I latched onto my resentment. “Why did you even have kids?” I bit out. “How could you when you knew you’d never be safe? Now, everyone’s dead or crazy, and we’re worried about Monitors and the General finding us.” My voice ricocheted in the stillness of her dream.

  Jason and Dad were suddenly gone, and it was just my mom and me sitting together in a setting she seemed so out of place in, my future juxtaposed with my past.

  “I understand that you’re angry,” she said softly. “I don’t blame you.”

  Shaking my head, a whimsical thought left my lips. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just stayed.”

  “You all would be dead if I had stayed. I had to go.” I could hear her frustration, but I ignored it.

  I reminded her of her own words. “You told Dani that Herodson would’ve found someone else to create the Virus even if you hadn’t.” I stood, unable to sit so close to her any longer.

  “There are always what-ifs and maybes. I can’t go back and change my decisions. Knowing you’re alive means more—”

  “Alive? Barely,” I spat. “Everything changed the day you left, can’t you see that?” Resentment made it difficult to speak. “Dad, Jason, me…we weren’t a family, not really. Dad was never around, and Jason and I never had a real relationship. All I had was Dani. While you…” I could barely say the words. “You started a new family…with him.”

  “Please understand that I’m sorry, God am I sorry, for all the pain I’ve caused you and your brother…”

  “But?”

  “But this is my life now, and I have to do what I can to make things right.”

  “Just not right with us,” I whispered.

  Her eyes shimmered, and her lips tensed as she swallowed. After a brief moment, she descended the steps and stopped in front of me. Hesitantly, she reached for my face. Her eyebrows lifted the barest amount as she wiped a tear from my cheek.

  I closed my eyes at the feeling of her touch; it was warm and comforting despite my mounting anger, and knowing it was the last time I’d ever see her, I burned the sensation into my memory.

  “Zoe, I’m so…” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry I—”

  “Please don’t,” I said and slowly turned away from her before I completely lost control of myself.

  She made no move to stop me, and after I whispered Gabe’s name, my mom and the disturbing replica of my home disappeared.

  24

  DANI

  MAY 23, 1AE

  Bodega Bay, California

  It was the morning of the final day of our journey—finally—and I was holding open the stuff sack for our tent, waiting for Jason to shove the rolled-up mass of dark green nylon into it. Every morning, it seemed to be a personal goal of his to roll up the tent even tighter, to make it fill an even smaller space. I smiled.

  “Watch this,” Jason said with a smirk. He slipped the rolled-up tent into the stuff sack like the interior was lined with butter.

  I stifled my grin while I pulled the sack’s drawstring to close it tightly. “Wow…that’s a real talent you’ve got there.” I tossed the tent on the ground with our packs, saddlebags, and the other stuff sacks containing our sleeping gear. “You should start a tent-rolling league.”

  Jason crossed his arms and watched me as I pulled my hair free of its hair tie and bent over to smooth the wild curls back into a more secure ponytail.

  I straightened and stared back at him. “What? I’m absolutely, completely serious,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “You should totally do that.” My eyes widened, like I’d had a lightbulb moment. “It could be a game in the Post-Apocalyptic Olympics!”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth curving up just enough to reveal the hint of a dimple. “You’re hilarious,” he said dryly and started toward me. He stopped with the toes of his boots almost touching mine, and simply stared down at me. “So damn funny…” His gaze flicked down to my lips, then returned to my eyes.

  I licked my lips, feeling the charge of desire building between us, electric and pulsing.

  Annie giggled and ran between us, causing Jason to take a step backward. He broke eye contact with me, looking around camp before bending over to pick up our camping gear. Briefly, his eyes met mine, still burning with unfulfilled desire and so much damn promise, before he started toward the barn where we’d stored the wagon, cart, and tack for the night.

  “We’re sure Bodega Bay’s clear?” he asked over his shoulder. “Absolutely sure?”

  Taking a deep, calming breath, I told my libido to shut the hell up and grabbed both sets of saddlebags,
tossing one over my shoulder. I had to jog to catch up with Jason.

  “Yeah…or as sure as we can be.” Last night, Gabe and Zoe had met with some of the members of the Town Council, Bodega Bay’s ruling body, alerting them of our imminent arrival plans and double-checking how safe the area had been over the last few weeks. Around our breakfast campfire, they’d relayed what the members of the Town Council told them: they’d been doing daily sweeps of the area in and around the town, and they hadn’t seen any “Lost Ones”—the local survivors’ term for what we called “Crazies”—for over a month.

  Jason shot me a sideways glance. “And there’s still no contradictory reports from any of your scouts?”

  I shook my head. I’d confirmed the information Zoe and Gabe had passed on with the animals in the area. My furred and feathered informants hadn’t caught a whiff of any off-smelling two-legs for weeks. Beyond that, Ky and Zoe would be doing their usual mental sweep of the area once we were close enough, and that would hopefully provide double confirmation. Besides, if we couldn’t trust the survivors of our own hometown, who could we trust?

  We reached the barn, and Jason propped the heavy wooden door open, letting me enter before he did. He placed the stuff sacks in their usual place in the chuck wagon, his expression thoughtful.

  I watched him for a moment before setting our saddlebags on top of our respective saddles. When I turned to face him again, hands resting on my hips, I found him staring deeper into the barn, his eyebrows drawn together. Worry was written on his face, plain as day; he never allowed himself to be so expressive when the others were around.

  “What is it?”

  He looked at me and blinked, his usual guarded mask sliding back in place. “What if we lead him there?”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Herodson?” I frowned. “I don’t think we will, or at least, I don’t think he’ll follow us.”

  “You can’t know for sure.”

  Shaking my head, I exhaled heavily and moved to stand in front of Jason. I reached for his hands and wove our fingers together. “No. I can’t know for sure.” And if Becca can, she’s not saying anything about it. I peered up at him. “I can’t know anything for sure, except that I love you, and I want to find a place where we can settle down and be together”—I laughed softly—“with our crazy new family of superhuman freaks and just live.” I sighed. “I’m tired, Jason. We can’t run forever, and we can’t pretend that everyone else’s safety is our responsibility, because it’s not. The only people we’re responsible for are ourselves.”