After the Ending

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “Why are you running?” I asked him weakly. As we distanced ourselves from the hospital, my mind cleared, and I realized something was wrong. “What happened?” I panicked and wrapped my arms around Jake’s neck. Straining to look over his shoulder, I saw Sanchez leaning against Harper as she hobbled after us. She was wincing in pain.

  “Oh my God.” I struggled to get out of Jake’s hold. “I’m fine,” I said, and he hesitantly set me on the sidewalk. We were in the parking lot behind the hospital, and for some reason, I felt safer knowing that there was distance between us and the mountain of dead bodies. I wasn’t sure if the breeze really carried the smell of rancid, rotting flesh, or if it was just my imagination.

  “Keep moving, Zoe,” Harper said as he and Sanchez caught up to us. He pushed me toward Dave’s truck.

  “Was it Crazies? How many were there?” I asked frantically, flinging open the truck door so Harper could help Sanchez climb inside. She was bleeding from her abdomen. Harper tossed my duffel bag of scavenged medical supplies into the truck bed before he climbed into the backseat after Sanchez, tugged off his long-sleeve shirt, and pressed it against her wound.

  “What can I do?” I asked, but they ignored me.

  “Get in!” Jake shouted as he jumped into the driver’s seat.

  I did as he commanded, yanking the passenger side door shut as he sped out of the parking lot. Sanchez’s breathing was ragged, and muffled whimpers escaped from her as the truck jostled her around.

  I turned in my seat and asked Harper, “How bad is she hurt?”

  “I don’t think any organs or arteries were hit, but I can’t tell for sure. I’ve gotta get a better look at her.” Harper glanced at the back of Jake’s head. “Can’t we go any faster?”

  Jake pressed harder on the gas pedal.

  “It had to have been Crazies…how many were there?” I asked Jake, quietly. I didn’t want to interrupt Harper as he helped Sanchez reposition herself in the backseat.

  “Five,” Jake said, taking a deep breath. “We’re lucky nothing worse happened.”

  I looked back at Sanchez again and hoped she wasn’t as bad as she looked. Blood soaked her shirt around the wound and was smeared on Harper’s hands and t-shirt.

  Jake glanced into the rearview mirror, and his paranoia flooded me.

  “How many are still alive?” I asked, worried an army of Crazies would drive up behind us.

  “Those five are dead, but who knows if there are more.”

  I nodded and turned toward the window. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I figured it wouldn’t be long before the clouds burst and poured rain down on us. I rubbed my throbbing head and took another deep breath. Sanchez didn’t cry or complain, but the sweat and blood smeared over her pained grimace made it obvious she was in bad shape.

  “I could use a drink,” she rasped. Her comment put a smile on Jake’s face—it was the first time I’d seen him smile. The expression seemed strangely natural and welcoming on him.

  “I think we can manage that,” he said.

  I looked back at Sanchez—her head was resting on Harper’s shoulder and she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

  “You better hurry,” I whispered to Jake. “I think she’s going into shock.”

  Harper glanced up to find me watching them and asked, “What the hell happened to you back there?”

  I shook my head, trying to recall everything that had happened before I’d fallen to the ground. “I guess I could feel them getting closer. Their emotions sort of blindsided me. They were so strong I couldn’t push them away.” The horrifying images from the Crazies’ minds flashed in my head. “Their minds were…just wrong. They’re so far gone.” Harper nodded as Jake carefully brought the truck to a stop outside of our hospital.

  Harper and Jake unloaded Sanchez, and we rushed into the emergency room. As I hurried toward the first treatment bay behind them, I felt an unexpected comfort at being back on base; it was the closest thing I’d had to a home in weeks.

  Sanchez cringed as she was gently set on an examination table. She was taking shallow, quick breaths and was clutching the edges of the table so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

  Harper slipped back into medic mode as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. “Zoe, hand me some bandage scissors.”

  I hurried over to one of the drawers of stainless steel instruments I’d organized for him a few days before and found the scissors. After handing them to him, I hastily collected the supplies Harper would need—sutures, several sizes of surgical needles, iodine, gauze, a local anesthetic, and morphine.

  Setting the tray with all of the supplies on a cart beside Harper, I watched him cut off Sanchez’s blood-soaked shirt, exposing the bullet wound in her side. The hole itself was smaller than I’d thought, only the size of a dime instead of the gaping wound I’d imagined.

  Harper glanced up at me. “Zoe, she’ll need clean clothes. Can you go find some?” I nodded, and he added, “Something loose. And bring some for me too.”

  I nodded again and hurried into the hallway.

  Halfway down the corridor, I stopped and wondered what I should tell anyone who happened to see me in my disheveled state. I spun around and ran back toward the emergency room to ask. I slowed just before pushing through the swinging doors and could hear my friends talking in hushed tones.

  “If we’re staying here indefinitely, we’ve gotta burn that place down, and soon. We can’t risk any of them finding us.” Harper’s voice sounded strained.

  “Jesus, Harper!” Sanchez gasped.

  “That was the local…you’ll feel better in a few seconds,” Harper told her.

  I didn’t hear Sanchez’s reply; I was too focused on the knot in my stomach. Staying here indefinitely? We aren’t leaving? All rational thought disappeared. I was overwhelmed with the thought of never seeing Dani and Jason again.

  Jason won’t come here. Or, maybe he would? No…he’ll want to stay at the Colony with his team.

  Jake’s voice broke my chain of frenzied thoughts. “Trust me, it’s safer here.” This is his fault!

  Backing away quietly, I turned to leave. I dutifully retrieved clean clothes for both Sanchez and Harper, avoiding everyone but Cooper. The Husky followed slowly behind me as I begrudgingly walked back to the hospital. Before heading into the emergency room, I stopped to steady my nerves. After a few deep breaths, I entered without making any eye contact and handed the clothes to Jake. “I’m going to find Biggs,” I lied, offering the first excuse that popped into my head, and hurried out of the room.

  As I rushed across the base toward the pond, chaotic thoughts churned in my mind. I looked around at the less than welcoming scenery. Ragged, dormant tree branches reached out like withered witch fingers, beckoning me toward them. The wind picked up, whipping passed me, and I shivered, unsure whether it had been caused by the frigid gust or my outrage.

  Were they even planning on telling me? It was clear that if I wanted to go to Colorado, I’d be going on my own. Can I even make it on my own?

  I thought about my self-defense lessons with Harper and Jake.

  Situation one: someone comes at you from behind…

  Situation two: someone grabs you from the front…

  I had a better understanding of how to defend myself, but I was no expert. I knew the chances of making it on my own were slim—I had minimal instinct and even less survival skill. Amazingly, I wasn’t scared of what might happen to me. I was stupidly determined.

  As I stood by the pond, brooding, the charcoal-gray sky continued to dim, and thunderclouds churned ferociously. The first drop of rain landed on my cheek, quickly followed by others. I welcomed the rain, wanting it to wash away all of my troubles, but I was too cold to stay outdoors any longer. I turned to leave…and jumped. Jake was standing almost directly behind me. I had no idea how I hadn’t heard him.

  “I thought you went to find Biggs,” he said, taking a step closer to me. He seemed unconcerned by the
increasing rain.

  I really didn’t want to talk to him—his mere presence made me combative. “I needed some air,” I said icily.

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” he asked sharply.

  His “concern” was infuriating. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I snapped, turning my back on him and wandering closer to the water. I didn’t want him to see the seething play of emotions on my face.

  Hearing his heavy footsteps approach, I blurted, “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were staying here indefinitely? And when did you decide to stay?”

  Jake’s silence aggravated me even more, and I rounded on him. He was too close, and I had to step back to avoid bumping into him. His eyes were filled with an emotion I had no interest in understanding. I pushed his feelings away and resolved to stop trying to figure him out. Unable to look at him, I started to walk away, but his hand grasped my forearm before I could move out of his reach.

  “It’s not safe there.”

  Oh, now he wants to talk, I thought caustically but took the bait. “It’s not safe where?”

  “Colorado.”

  I sensed his earnestness but was too stubborn to consider his warning. “Well, it’s not safe anywhere.” I tried to tug my arm from his iron hold, but his hand squeezed tighter.

  “You don’t understand.” Jake’s voice was grave, but I barely heard his words. He was apparently oblivious to the water running down his clenched jaw, to the rain-drenched shirt clinging to his torso.

  But I wasn’t. I struggled to prevent my eyes from scanning his sculpted body. My attraction to him was like lighter fluid on my fiery rage. “Of course I don’t understand, Jake. How could I? You never explain anything, and I’m sick of trying to figure you out!” I shouted.

  “I’ve been there!” His words were like forbidden fruit. I straightened and awaited the explanation I desperately hoped would follow. Finally, he said, “I’m from there.” The pain in his eyes was obvious. What happened to him there? Why won’t he go back?

  “And that has what to do with the Colony, exactly?”

  Jake’s free hand clenched into a fist. “Dammit, Zoe! I’m from Colorado Springs…that’s practically on Peterson’s doorstep. I left when all this started for a reason.”

  I staggered back in surprise, and hope surged through me as I considered what he might know. “Have you been to the Colony?”

  He shook his head, and my sudden hope evaporated. “No. But if it’s what I think it is, we don’t want to go there—especially not you.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Jake hesitated, but then seemed to come to a decision. “My sister was like you…changed by the Virus. Soldiers came for her near the beginning, and she thought killing herself was better than being taken away by them.”

  “The woman dying in your arms,” I whispered sadly, suddenly feeling the need to comfort him.

  For the first time, his silence told me everything I needed to know. He wore grief and regret like an invisible scar—always there to remind him, to punish him.

  My voice cracked as I asked, “What were they gonna do to her?” Despite the rain dripping down my face and over my lips, my mouth grew dry at the thought of being held against my will…of being experimented on.

  “I don’t know, but they had assault rifles and were ready to use them. They weren’t giving Becca a choice…and she refused to go with them the only way she could.” As an afterthought, he added softly, “She saw something, and whatever it was…it was worse than killing herself.”

  Maybe I should reconsider… I wiped the rain from my eyes as a sudden realization filled me with terror. Dani and Jason are headed there.

  “I’m really sorry for what happened to your sister, but—”

  Jake dropped my arm. “I didn’t tell you that to make you sorry. I told you so you could protect yourself. Staying here might be the only way to do that.” It was the most emotion I’d ever heard in his voice, and it frightened me.

  “I appreciate your concern for my safety, Jake. I really do. And I understand why you think I should stay here, but I can’t. I have people waiting for me. I have to go, with or without you guys,” I said honestly and walked passed him, heading toward the barracks.

  Questions about Jake’s past fought to escape my lips, but I held them back. I knew if I lingered to ask, to get to know him better, he might succeed in convincing me to stay.

  31

  ZOE

  After dinner that night, I sat on a couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fire. I felt numb. My body was like an icebox—frozen from the inside out—my bones felt brittle, and even in a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants, I was shivering uncontrollably. Emotionally, I was raw. The Crazies’ memories were seared into my mind, and their emotions had felt more severe and unsettling than any I’d ever experienced before. I felt fractured and exposed, and the fire provided much-needed comfort after a day of unwanted surprises.

  On the floor at my feet, Cooper snoozed peacefully. He’d taken a sudden interest in me—following me around and staring at me with concerned, watchful eyes—like he knew what I’d seen and how dead I felt inside.

  Focusing on my drawing, I critiqued the likeness of the pond. I was struggling, my hands and mind working disjointedly to convey what I remembered. The drawing was a weak version of the image I saw so vividly in my head—it was drab and boring compared to the life I knew hid in the hibernating landscape.

  I hadn’t felt like myself for weeks, but I was having a particularly disconcerting evening. My eyelids had grown increasingly heavy over the past hour, but I resisted the urge to turn in for the night. I dreaded the nightmarish images that awaited me whenever my eyes closed. Instead, I’d nested in the corner of the couch, armed with a book, my drawing pad and pencils, and a steaming cup of Chai tea to keep my mind occupied for as long as possible. Unfortunately, thoughts of leaving the group continued to fill my consciousness.

  “Hey,” Clara’s chirping voice jolted me from my restless mind chatter. She flopped down beside me, smirking as my pencil hand jumped across the page. I didn’t want an extra branch there, bitch.

  Clara was one of the last people I wanted to talk to. She creeped me out, especially her bright, vivacious blue eyes—despite their angelic color, they seemed to house the soul of a devil. Her lips were too red, her smile too wide.

  Sighing and attempting to smile, I looked over at her, reluctant to give her much attention. “What can I do for you, Clara?”

  She situated herself comfortably beside me and analyzed my sketch. “Oh nothing. I just thought I’d come check on you.” She looked at me, mimicking the disingenuous smile I’d plastered on my own face. “You’ve been so quiet since you and the others got back…I just thought I’d see if there was anything I could do to help.”

  Corralling all the patience I could possibly muster, I turned back to my sketchbook. “I’m peachy, Clara. Thanks for your concern, but I’m really not in the mood to chat tonight.” I hoped my sarcastic tone would send her on her way.

  “Oh, don’t be shy.” She batted my arm playfully. “I can tell something’s wrong. You have been pouting since you got back from your trip into town. I can tell you’re suffering. Just a woman’s intuition, I guess.”

  I shook my head dismissively. “Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Out of nowhere, Clara’s mood shifted, and hostility fogged my senses, even though her feigned concerned expression remained intact.

  “Jake told me what happened,” she said, sounding sympathetic.

  Glancing at her, I wondered if she was full of shit or if Jake really would’ve told her about our conversation by the pond. How close are they anyway? “Oh yeah? And what exactly did he tell you?” Part of me hoped he did have a big mouth, just so I’d have one more reason to get as far away from him as possible. But…another part of me felt sick at the idea of Jake talking to Clara about me at all.

  At my question, her coy sm
ile faded, and her eyes hardened. Apparently that hadn’t been the response she’d been looking for. I could feel betrayal and animosity radiating from her as she resituated herself on the couch beside me.

  Clearing her throat, she straightened her blouse and avoided meeting my gaze. After a moment, she looked at me with empty eyes. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Confused, I shifted on the couch to face her. I could feel myself getting sucked into her conniving trap, but both exasperation and curiosity lead me to ask, “And which secret is that?”

  Clara’s eyes darted around the room. Her face was flushed, and she seemed extremely anxious. I had to fight the urge to make a wise-ass remark about her seven personalities. My mind reached out to hers, trying to understand her sudden discomfort, and it was an effort to reel it back in.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, watching her face redden before my eyes.

  “I’m fine!” She shrieked, standing abruptly. “I just hope you know he’s with me. You’re damaged goods, to say the least. I wouldn’t get too attached if I were you.” For reasons I didn’t understand, her scathing words were like claws raking down my flesh.

  “Whatever,” I snapped. “I’m really not in the mood for mind games right now. Just leave me alone.” I just wanted her to go away.

  “Everything okay?” Sarah asked as she strode up behind the couch, glancing worriedly between us.

  “I’m fine!” Clara shrieked again. “Cooper, come!” When Copper only looked up at her blankly, she huffed and stomped away.

  “Wow.” Sarah sat down beside me as she watched Clara stalk off. She folded her legs under her, mirroring my position on the couch. Her warmth beside me was comforting—a pleasant relief from Clara’s chilly antagonism. “She’s really got it out for you, huh?”

  “Apparently,” I mused. “I’m not really sure what she thinks is going on, but she was clearly a mental patient even before all of this,” I joked.