Final Impact: A Dystopian Trilogy (BOUND Book 3)

by Doug McGovern

  Red moves to Ross’s leg and Isabelle looks at me, confusion on her face. “Did I say something?” she asks.

  I shake my head and force a smile. “Why don’t you fill me in while Mary takes a minute. We need to move to the other house anyway,” I say. I explain that Ryan is hurt and we met a new Nectorian man who can help our cause. I practically force everyone to follow me to the secondary location in hopes of giving Mary and Elijah some more privacy. If it takes us leaving to give them the necessary amount of privacy, I can make that happen.

  *****

  Chapter 21

  Mary

  Mary rushes from the room as quickly as she is able. She can’t handle that she is surrounded with so many Nectorians and another royal. She can’t mentally take the fact that not only is Isabelle a Nectorian, but she is just like Ruby. She is a royal and there is nothing Mary can do to ignore the fact.

  The ground outside is covered in black acid, so she settles on one of the porch steps, leaning her head on her hands and clenching her hair at its roots. She would do anything to take away the pain of being around another royal. Mary’s main character flaw is the fact that she uses suppression as a coping mechanism. It’s how she managed to survive after her bounded died in front of her.

  As all of it comes rushing back into her head—the foreign feelings of resentment, depression and anger—she is unable to process through anything. Her typically stellar mind is shorting and she can’t do anything to stop it. After suppressing it for so long is only making the pain worse. “Hey, hey Mary,” she hears from behind her, but she can’t comprehend the voice. She can’t do anything but fall deeper and deeper into her pit of depression.

  “Make it stop,” she pleads, closing her eyes as tightly as they can shut. Will anything make it better for her? Is it even worth it anymore?

  “Mary,” she hears from in front of her. “Open your eyes and look at me.” Mary wants to do that, she really does, but she can’t force herself to do so. Opening her eyes will make it worse. She knows it will. “Listen to me, Mary. I know how bad it hurts. I know that losing someone you love is the most tragic and confusing thing that can happen, but you need to listen to my voice. Stop thinking and just listen to what I am telling you,” he says.

  She realizes his voice is doing something to her—something to her sanity. It is bringing back her logic and allowing her thoughts to flow more smoothly. She realizes that the voice may be helping after all, though she doesn’t know how. “Mary, you are beautiful and intelligent. In fact, you are the smartest girl I have ever met. I haven’t heard even a portion of what you know, but it seems to me like you know everything. It is amazing and mesmerizing. Listening to you is wonderful and I feel like you are upping my IQ points simply by speaking. You are just amazing to me in every single way imaginable. I don’t know how to explain how amazing it has been spending a month with a woman who seems to know everything under the sun.”

  Mary’s breathing calms and she is finally able to open her eyes, but he doesn’t stop there. Mary has known deep down who has been talking to her and he is the only reason she is able to calm. He is the only person able to calm Mary in the way she needs. “Mary, you have gone through more than anyone I have ever met, but you are still you, I don’t know what to say other than the fact that you amaze me. Your strength amazes me,” Elijah says, staring into her eyes.

  It doesn’t matter how smart Mary may be; reading people has never been a talent of hers. She had researched how to read a person’s expressions at one point, but it is something that a person can either do or not do. Mary has always been someone who can’t understand other people’s emotions, no matter how hard she tries.

  But somehow, as she stares at Elijah for what feels like an eternity, she knows without a doubt that he feels the same way as she does. She has heard that when she finds “the one,” she will know. She never could have imagined that knowing something could feel so amazing. His jet black hair is limp against his face, but a single strand hangs lower than the rest. The strand teases her until she can no longer stand it.

  Mary reaches forward, right beside his bright blue eyes, and brushes the relatively short strand of hair back until it joins the rest. Her hand that grazes his warm skin must have a mind of its own as it drags itself down his jawline, catching on stubble that he must shave often. It’s just as dark as his hair and only makes his jawline appear sharper.

  Mary feels something in the pit of her stomach that only grows the more she thinks about him inappropriately. “Mary,” he says. His voice seems to originate in the back of his throat, pained with restraint. She doesn’t want him to restrain himself any longer, but how does she tell him that without directly saying it?

  “I’ve never had to figure this out before and I really don’t know what you are thinking or feeling, but I am feeling something in my stomach and I really would like if you would kiss me right now,” she says, trying to play it off smooth. She thinks that she did well, but communicating has never been her strongest suit.

  “Thank god,” he responds with relief. Mary opens her mouth to ask what he means, but he lunges forward and captures her lips with his in a hungry motion. She feels as if she is being sucked into a tunnel as her heart thuds and she freezes. Sure Mary has been kissed, but she has never been kissed in the way that he is devouring her.

  Her hand hovers awkwardly above his shoulder, unsure if she should touch him there or allow him to continue kissing her in the way he is. Mary, though smarter than anyone she had ever been faced with, for once has no idea what to do.

  He chuckles beneath her tight and frozen lips and grabs both of her hands, placing them on his shoulders. Her fingers skim the fabric of his shirt, but are more concerned with the solid muscles beneath. “Kiss me back,” he whispers. He orders. His voice unravels something inside of her. The hesitance and uncertainty that wracked her body in a whirlwind of awkwardness suddenly evaporated and she does what she really wants to do.

  She kissed him back.

  Mary moves closer to him and embraces the feeling of his firm body so near to hers that the heat makes her sweat. She embraces everything about him as she dives deeper into the kiss and allows herself to finally feel something other than sorrow or grief. She finally, after what feels like an eternity, is feeling passion for a man who is able to make her forget about all the things that wracked her emotions.

  The guilt regarding her sister’s death evaporates into nothingness.

  The sorrow of her soul mate’s death stops for just a brief moment—long enough to allow her heart to feel something other than the unavoidable ache which has been puncturing it for so long.

  And the sadness when she thinks about her lost friend melts away into the happiness she believes she finally deserves. After everything she has lost, why wouldn’t she deserve some happiness?

  Mary realizes Elijah may be the solution to all of her problems. He may be the one able to make her nearly whole once again, but that is not something which will be done easily. Maybe someday, if he continues cherishing her in the way he is with his passion-filled kiss, she will heal.

  As Mary pulls away, she genuinely smiles for the first time in far too long.

  *****

  Chapter 22

  Jo Leigh

  I’m filled in rather quickly once we are all together. When I hear about beasts alongside the Szorians, my heart sinks, but another issue, or rather the elephant in the room, still needs to be addressed. “Why don’t you voice your concerns instead of eyeing Ross,” I say to each of the Nectorians in the room.

  “He is one of the people who we are plotting against. Who’s to say he won’t betray us the moment we turn our backs?” Abner asks. Josephine, who stands beside him, agrees with a nod. Abner and Josephine were always close before coming to earth and they had one another’s backs then, so I have no doubt that they will continue to have each other’s backs now.

  I look at Ross and can see their concerns, as I had them at one point, as we
ll. I was not concerned because he was a Szorian, but simply because I held no trust in him. I can imagine how these people feel about being partnered with their mortal enemy. I would refuse if I were in their position.

  As Ross holds Red in his arms now, though, I cannot see him committing an act of betrayal if his life depended on it. When he became Charlie’s family, he became ours, as well. His loyalties no longer lie with the Szorians, though they once had. “He was bound with my sister before she died. This doesn’t mean a lot to any of you, but if you knew her, it would. Charlie could convince a hornet to befriend a butterfly. She was nothing less than a miracle and Ross loved her just as much as I did. I didn’t change him and he didn’t change himself. She changed him for the better. Would he be standing here, caring for one of your young after his soul mate’s passing if he wasn’t a changed man?” I ask.

  “You can hate him if you would like, but he is here to help and you need to accept that,” I state, finalizing my word. I’m not oblivious to the fact that many of their minds are set for the worst and they will refuse to help Ross if the situation calls for it, but if I can sway a few opinions, that is all I want. And judging by Josephine’s expression, she understands.

  Abdul and Jebadyah walk in my direction and stand beside me just like old times. If anything goes down, I will have their backs above my own and they would do the same for me. Hayden has also come to understand our odd relationship and accept that it isn’t going anywhere threatening. “As touching as this is, we have another issue we need to address before we go head on against the Szorians,” Abdul says firmly.

  “Our abilities are all fading and the things we used to be able to do are not possible anymore,” Jebadyah continues. “And we can’t fight without them. It would be like a goldfish trying to fight a shark. It is impossible.”

  “No it isn’t,” Ross states. “Because our abilities are dwindling, too. I can’t change my form anymore and I can’t absorb energy nearly as well. I never used to require food as an energy source, but now I eat instead of absorbing energy.”

  “You used people as a food substitute?” One of the humans in the room ask. I can tell that many are equally as confused. “Doesn’t that make you like a cannibal?”

  “No. I don’t eat people. I just pilfer their energy. If I take too much, it can kill them. If I only take a little, they won’t even notice. Food is how people get energy, so by absorbing theirs, I don’t need to physically eat. I don’t know how it works, but it seems to do me well,” Ross explains. “But I am no longer able to absorb enough energy to live. It’s not just you. We are all suffering from a loss of energy.”

  “Wait,” I start, looking around the room. “Is it possible you are becoming human the longer you are here?” I ask. “I know it sounds inane, but you are losing the characteristics that make you unlike us. Maybe that is why you connected with us.”

  Everyone in the room goes silent and I look around. They don’t want to accept the possibility. I wouldn’t be able to accept transforming into something I am not. Isabelle is the first to speak. “That is where we differ—royals and the rest of the alien life forms. We are not losing our ability to transform or do anything else. Everyone else, it seems, is doing just that.”

  “Did you know this would happen?” Abdul asks.

  “I could not have predicted this, but I have seen it happening for quite some time. Men began losing their ability to effortlessly shift forms not long after the rains. Warriors didn’t lose the ability as quickly, but it is catching up to them too. Now that the Nectorians' defining characteristics are vanishing, it is obvious,” Isabelle says with a shrug. The motion seems odd on her. It’s such an informal thing to do for a woman who seems formal in every way. “So we don’t need more warriors, though it was a good plan initially.”

  I stare at her and find myself only able to blink. I wasted a month of my time finding warriors, and Isabelle is telling me that they will not actually be able to help my cause. “What,” I find myself saying with a glare.

  “The warriors are unnecessary. With Szorians, they are on the same level. With so few of them, we can’t beat an army of Szorians with only a few equal opponents. What is really needed is more royals with various abilities. I can sense one nearby and I believe I know who it is. If I am correct, with her, we will win this war without a doubt,” Isabelle explains. I wonder how she can say this without any form of sympathy. I have worked my ass off for weeks to work toward this and she tells me my efforts are wasted in the single day she has been here.

  “She?” I ask. “Are all royals women or something?” I ask, noting the three who I have met have all been female—Red, Ruby and Isabelle.

  “Women are known to rule more compassionately, so it is nearly unheard of for a royal to be a man. Also, women can easily reproduce. It is their option to give their lives to a child. It is difficult for a man to find a woman willing to give her life to bear his child,” Isabelle says. She doesn’t even notice the hostility I throw in her direction.

  I find myself wondering about Hayden and I having children. Would producing a Nectorian child kill me the same way it kills a Nectorian woman, or do they die because of their own biology? If Hayden and I progress to the point when a child is an option, would he even consider it with the chance I may not survive?

  Would I be willing to take that risk?

  “Then let’s go get her,” I suggest with a shrug.

  “We do not want her to feel threatened, so we cannot all go. If I go alone, she will likely feel as though I am intruding on her territory. I can show you where to find her and you can bring a few companions including myself,” she says

  “Do you know her?” I ask.

  “I have never met another royal until your child. I have only heard stories about them. But if we want to be ready for these beasts that were an estimated three days behind Mary, we need to go as soon as possible,” Isabelle says, walking in my direction slowly. “And if she doesn’t agree and we are forced to fight with only our warriors, it was a pleasure working with you.”

  “Then we’d better convince her to fight with us,” I reply tersely. We don’t have another option. We need numbers and abilities. We don’t have many of either.

  *****

  Chapter 23

  Jo Leigh

  As we walk out, Mary walks back into the room much calmer than before. I want to ask her if she is all right, but judging by Isabelle’s hostility toward me during our first encounter, I assume Mary is anything but happy with my decisions. Speaking to me will make it much worse for her, especially if she is holding animosity toward me for leaving her. It seems that Elijah has it under control.

  Isabelle and Jebadyah walk ahead of Hayden and me until Isabelle points us in the direction of a functional car. I am amazed by her intuition and wonder what aspects of her ability she has failed to mention. I know it’s supposed to be secretive, but we are all allies and it is important to know all of our assets.

  “Will you know when we find her?” I ask Isabelle as we open the doors to the car. Seating arrangements aren’t complicated. The two men are given the spacious front seats as Hayden drives while Isabelle and I sit in the back. The scenery makes me sick to my stomach and I am thrilled that Red was not brought along. She may have never known any different, but as we ride through cannibal territories and find corpses of people hung like pigs and stripped of meat, I can’t help but wonder what this is doing to her development.

  “Are we close?” I ask after roughly twenty minutes. How far can Isabelle sense?

  “Hayden, would you mind stopping here?” Isabelle asks, indirectly telling me what I had asked. I can feel she is hostile toward me above everyone else and can only partially understand the reason. In fact, Isabelle is acting more hostile than Mary, and Mary has the reason to be angry.

  “So we are here?” I ask, confused by the location. It is in what looks to be the dead center of a cannibal territory, but something is different about this small area. Ins
tead of the black goo to which I have grown accustomed, this place looks almost like it would have looked before the rains. The buildings are concreted, bricked or sided and the surfaces aren’t corroded.

  It looks like the only rain that has fallen here is the edible liquid kind.

  But the city is bittersweet in a way. While it is clear of rain, that simply means the corpses are no longer masked and I can almost detect the faces in a few of the bloated, sun-baked people. Some are so far gone that not even their flesh is recognizable, but without many animals to assist in decomposition, the people sit and allow nature to do it all.

  “Is she as powerful as she looks, because only someone really powerful can do this,” Jebadyah states, looking around in shock. He hadn’t experienced the world much before, but I’m sure he saw enough to know this is what it used to be like—aside from the corpses, of course.

  “She is powerful,” Isabelle states, leading us around the corner and onto a side alleyway. We follow blindly and I am curious as to how Isabelle knows where to go. I doubt she has ever been here. She didn’t mention directly knowing this royal, so I assume she hasn’t visited, yet she is leading us in a nearly precise direction.

  And finally, we see her. I am in awe at what I am beholding. A Chinese woman—no older than twenty-five—is floating in a bubble of water. I don’t mean the black goo I have called water for the last few months, but she is floating in clean water. “You have got to be shitting me,” I mumble under my breath, staring at the peaceful meditative pose on which the woman sits—or rather floats.

  “Who are you?” The woman’s voice reaches our ears loud and clear, almost as if she isn’t surrounded in a ball of water.