Endgame (Book 1)

by W. A. R.

  “I never abandoned you.” He told her, still watching at the twinkling stars so far away, dancing for only the two of them. His breathing was beginning to deepen and his eyes were closing slightly. Amber smiled almost sadly to herself.

  “I know.” She hesitated, giving him a moment before she continued. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked of him in a gentle manner and he squeezed her hand softly. She offered his hand a reassuring squeeze back.

  “One day I will. If, of course, you forgive me for tonight.” He told her lightly and she laughed.

  “Only if you forgive me for today.” She responded and he rewarded her with his own throaty chuckle. Shivers raced up her spine and she released a quivering breath.

  “Deal.” He told her and she shook her head to herself.

  “Deal.” She replied, finally feeling at peace with everything that had happened. They were bringing three new people home…home…her mind drifted. She would see her children after a long week away from them. It felt so very good. She sighed in content and studied the stars, how they moved and glittered above them. There was life, she thought, and there would always be life. She hoped her children grew up knowing that simple fact alone; maybe they could show the rest of the world how life was in everything.

  “What are you thinking of?” he asked of her, his voice deep and his words slightly muffled together and she blinked her half-lidded eyes at the heavens. Her mind was such a blurred and muddled mess that she herself wondered what was on her mind at that exact moment. She opened her mouth, unprepared for whatever subject was going to roll off of her tongue.

  “Vincent Van Gogh.” She replied honestly and for a moment the loss of their previous world stabbed her like a sharp knife. She quickly shoved the hurt away, knowing it would do no good. Yes, she conceded, she had been thinking about the famous artist. He breathed life into his every work of art and it had always fascinated her. “The Starry Night was my favorite painting of his and I wish I could have seen it in person. What are you thinking of?” she asked and he yawned.

  “Tell me more about this painting?” he questioned and she dug into her memory bank, attempting to pull out what she remembered about it. There was a slight pang at the fact she would never witness a picture of the painting again. She had always wanted to see it in person, and that option was clearly out of the window during the apocalypse. She wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for it or if she wanted to. She could die happily with it when her eyes closed. She could paint it herself on the canvas of her mind and she would be content.

  “Well,” she began, her tone thoughtful. “The painting was done in 1889 and is believed to be an oil painting of the view from his room in an asylum. He had a breakdown in 1887…no…1888…yeah, and anyways, he had cut off his left ear. He admitted himself and painted…he painted so many wonderful things…” she trailed off on a pause, feeling his fingers loosen its hold in her hand. She smiled gently and continued. “It wasn’t until he had died that his paintings took on the appreciation that they so well deserved. He saw the world in a completely different way than everyone else and that view was portrayed in every single stroke of his brush, every drop of paint on his canvases. He was mad but he was brilliant.” She was wistful then, no longer dwelling on what she thought were facts. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment and pictured the painting behind her eyelids. “Even in the muddled madness, chaos, and destruction that went on in his mind he still found a simplistic beauty in it all and that was what comforted him.” She opened her eyes then, and glanced over at the sleeping man beside her. She watched him for a moment, witnessing the rise and fall of his chest as he rested in slumber; in a place where no real harm could come to him; he rested in a place where she would allow no real harm to reach him. She lay there, watching him sleep, reveling in the comfort of his rough and calloused hand against hers. After a minute of witnessing this, she pulled her hand easily from his and carefully rose to her feet, scanning the area around them for any Biters.

  She didn’t see any movement under the moonlight, and could hear no pain-laced moans and so she lowered herself to the side of the truck, resting her elbows on her knees and glancing up at the moon. Yep, she thought, her eyes scanning Brian’s truck where he and Shelly rested, to the cab of Miles’s, where Zeus, Elliot, and George lay, and finally to Miles; there was always beauty in the midst of chaos; you just had to know where to look.

  Chapter Eleven

  George sat between Amber and Miles in the truck, Zeus in the backseat, and the boy, Elliot, tangled up in Amber’s lap. They were stationary in the truck in the bright morning sunlight, watching Brian step out of his truck and make his way towards the wrought iron gate before them. Amber seemed anxious, her eyes darting across the entirety of the property that was visible. Miles, on the other hand surveyed the amount of dead Biters resting around the fence line. George caught on quickly why it concerned him: There was an abundant amount. Obviously, the family was gathering the attention of monsters. Elliot sighed and snuggled a little closer to Amber, his head resting in the crook of her neck. He seemed to be scared of everyone aside from Amber, Shelly, and Miles; so once he clung to Amber on the way out of the highline, she refused to let go. It was the mother in her, George realized as he watched her shush him comfortingly, easing the child’s fears. He admired her tenacity when it came to her children and her morals.

  They were all excited about getting into the property and getting settled in. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on them, so whenever Brian released the lock and chain that had been binding the gate, shoving them open, they all shared a big sigh of relief. Shelly eased their truck forwards, Miles trailing behind. Brian closed and locked the gate and followed them up the driveway as they slowly crawled towards the house.

  Their eyes surveyed the land, the garden, the trucks and small trees that kept the fences steady. The house was two stories, equipped with some sort of outdoor shower on the side. A well sat in the back of the house, and a garage full with a multitude of equipment. Eyes widened with surprise, George and Miles shared a look of understanding. These people had it good compared to their own previous encounters. Miles had parked the truck and rounded the front before reaching Amber’s door and opening it for her. She eased out, avoiding eye contact with him. He held his arms open and she reluctantly handed Elliot safely to his arms. George climbed out behind her, allowing Zeus to jump over the seat and make his great escape as well. He noted the pained look on Miles’s face as he situated the small child against him. George felt a pang in his heart at the sight, remembering the times that he had held Bobby the same way, comforting him. He realized then that the possibility of him ever having children again in the world they were in was just the opposite…it was an impossibility. Suddenly, a longing that he had shoved away clawed at his heart and he envied Miles who had the opportunity to care for the child, and the affection of the child to him in return. Zeus’s bark made him jump, despite himself, and he began running through the yard at full speed when they heard the front door open.

  Miles and George stood awkwardly as they watched the exchange before them. Bobby-Jean and Jackson hurried out, exclaiming and reaching for Brian and Shelly while Amber ran full speed, meeting two teenagers who were barreling towards her. She fell to her knees embracing them, crying into their necks as they clung to her. They all began kissing and hugging, then, upon seeing their bruised faces, expressing worry and comfort. Amber stood and Brian glanced over his shoulder at the two men that waited by the truck. George swallowed the emotion that threatened to come out and forced himself to look away. He knew that they were talking about what had happened, if only briefly. They were providing them with a brief rundown of who was lost and despite his reservations, it hurt.

  “I am alone too.” Miles told him gently, refusing to look at him, and George saw that he couldn’t tear his gaze from the family before him. He cradled the boy closer to his chest and sighed when George looked up at him question
ingly. They stood perfectly still for a minute or two, until finally, he looked at George and nodded towards the truck. “We can go ahead and unload some stuff.” He told him, turning towards the bed of the truck. After a moment of silence, aside from the rapid fire discussion that was going on between family, George felt the emotion that had rolled through him begin to ebb away.

  “I guess we aren’t alone anymore.” George replied, attempting to make light of their conversation. He wanted to drown out the mentions of Bobby and Regina that he heard stemming from the discussion the others were having. He understood that they needed to discuss it, but that understanding didn’t take away the anger he harbored towards himself.

  Miles paused his movements and glanced towards the gathered family. He was thoughtful. “I guess you’re right.” He admitted. “It’s nice isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question, and yet George stopped, elbows firmly on the side of the truck as he studied the man across from him. He had been unsure of the man; hell, Miles had barely said anything about himself, and now he was talking and trying to make conversation as if it were the easiest thing in the world; it was surprising to say the least. Not to mention, he had done it in such a sincere way, that it had made George want to immediately ask him about himself, but felt it was inappropriate. Instead, he grinned and nodded at Miles, who now looked back at him with a scrutinizing stare and they shared an understanding. Miles turned his focus back to the bed of the truck, reaching over the side and grabbing a bag, a smile pasted on his face. George couldn’t help but grin as well.

  “What are you smiling about?” George asked him, grabbing two duffel bags from the back and throwing them over his shoulders. Miles turned to him and shook his head in astonishment, still smiling, before grabbing a second bag with his one free hand and looked back at the family.

  “I had told them they would all make it because they were strong…and look at them.” George turned to look at the group before them, all seven of them engaged in deep conversation, then around at the property as Miles continued. “They didn’t just survive this…they survived, and did so comfortably. Most of their innocence is still there.” George smiled, knowing he was right. “It just amazes me.” He said softly as they carried the bags over to the group, whose eyes were now trained on them. George suddenly felt the tension cascade over him and he didn’t like it.

  “Well, lookie here, Bobby-Jean!” Jackson said, smiling at George and shaking his hand. George watched the veil of sadness wash over the old man as they did this. He forced a smile, knowing he needed to simply let it roll off of his back. George looked and saw Amber, Shelly, and Brian attempting to cover their laughter. He grinned at them, remembering the impression that they had made the night before. Well, he thought, that certainly lifted his spirits if only slightly.

  “Well, by george! It’s George!” Bobby-Jean exclaimed, beaming at him. The chuckling grew louder from behind her and George laughed, releasing Jackson’s hand.

  “It’s good to see you, George, especially considering the circumstances.” The old man smiled at George, catching him by surprise. He hadn’t expected them to say anything about his losses; in fact, he had expected it to have been avoided at all costs. He smiled genuinely, feeling his heart lighten a little before stealing a glance at the trio once more, noting the smug expressions they wore. He understood them then, at least a little. They were opening their trusted home to people, albeit familiar people, but new people nonetheless. They were comfort and warmth and family. He was home.

  “It’s good to see you too sir.” George replied. He had known the couple from before the outbreak, having known them through Cassie and Amber, but also while out and about from time to time in the small town. Before he knew it, the bags were taken from his hand by Brian and Bobby-Jean enveloped him in a warm embrace. George chuckled, as did Cassie and Kyle. They stood on either side of Amber, her arms draped across their shoulders, grinning sadly at him. He forced himself to tear his gaze from them.

  “Oh, George, I can’t believe you are actually here!” she exclaimed before letting go of him and stepping back.

  “I actually can’t either, Bobby-Jean.” He told her before she nodded in understanding.

  “You are a strong man. Everything happens for a reason.” She told him firmly. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She laughed at his loss for words before her expression turned grim as she turned to Miles, who had set the boy and the bags down, the boy clinging to his legs.

  He smiled at her. “Mrs. McDermott,” he addressed her, and quick as lightening, her palm hit his cheek, hard. The piercing sound of her slap startled all of them. A flush crawled up his neck as he stared at her astounded, his cheek turning pink from the sharp impact. George winced and recoiled from the pair, uncertain of what was going to happen next.

  “Mother!” Amber exclaimed in shock, stepping forward to remove her mother before she caused any more damage. Brian guffawed and Shelly hit him on the shoulder.

  “That was for tormenting my daughter on a regular basis all of those years.” She told him sternly. George watched as his eyes widened, all the while displaying his sincerest apologies and utter shock at having been slapped. Then, just as quick, her expression softened and she reached up, kissing him on the same, injured cheek and wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug. He looked just as surprised as he had when she slapped him, and Amber stopped behind her, surprised as well. “And that is for everything after.” She told him softly, and George was curious as to what she had meant. There was more she was implying that she wouldn’t speak aloud and so he was once again left to wonder about the family and their relationship to Miles. Shrugging it off, he rolled his shoulders, tension easing back in. Bobby-Jean released Miles and smiled before getting down to Elliot’s level. “I bet you are hungry young man, huh?” she asked him, and he nodded, his grip tight on Miles’s pants legs, and face hidden. “Well, I might just have something cooked up for ya, but you have to come with me if you want it.” She told him. They watched him in silence for a moment as she held her hand out for him to take it. Reluctantly though, he finally let go of Miles and slid his small hand into hers. George stood there shocked as Miles rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

  Amber turned and began back towards the truck, alongside Brian and Shelly, while Jackson went up to Miles and Kyle and Cassie ran up to George, throwing their arms around him. He could see the hardness in their eyes and he hated it. They had been through so much; things he knew they should never have gone through. It excited him though, their presence. It brought him a sense of peace knowing that there was still some innocence in the world; that the world wasn’t a completely horrible place.

  “Hey guys!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. He felt the band that had been squeezing on his heart, ease up a little at their actions. He dropped to his knees, wrapping an arm around each of them and urging them closer, reveling in their embrace. His burdens didn’t feel so heavy then; instead, he wanted to cry from relief.

  “We are so glad to see a familiar face Mr. Clausen.” Cassie told him and he smiled widely, hugging them back.

  “Me too, kids. Me too.” He said meaningfully as they let go and ran past him to the truck to grab some things. They didn’t mention Regina or Bobby, but then, they were probably reeling from the little bit of information they were given. Easily, he stood, watching as Jackson, who had been watching everything silently, step forward to Miles.

  “You aren’t going to hit me as well, are you Mr. McDermott?” Miles asked tepidly, taking the man’s outstretched hand in his own for a firm handshake. The old man laughed at this, his eyes wrinkling in the corners.

  “Oh no, Mr. Preston, the kiss is more my style.” He told Miles, whose eyes widened in disbelief, causing the old man began to laugh even harder. “I’m just messin with ya, son.” He said, patting him on the shoulder and making his way to the truck, leaving Miles and George to follow dutifully behind.

  Later that night, after everyt
hing was taken out of the bags and put where they were suitable, they ate dinner. It consisted of some rabbit that Brian had gotten with his compound bow that afternoon, alongside some squirrel, some fish, and some corn. Everyone had chipped in somewhere in between cold showers and assisting with chores. Brian had explained how the shower worked, how it sucked up water through the pipe and gave small bursts of water at a time out of a bucket placed on the ground under the pipe, and it had been relatively easy to handle. Fill bucket, pull lever, get water; it was simple enough, but impressive all the same. George couldn’t remember the last time he had been so relaxed. They seemed to have it made in their home and were proud of it; as they very well should have been. They all worked together, as a team, and he realized that even with Regina and Bobby, they had never had this family unit. It had always been…different. He couldn’t explain it; couldn’t even begin to. Then again, he pondered, the whole of the world was different.