After the Ending (34 page)

FYI—We’re meeting the rest of the sane survivors tomorrow at
their “town meeting”—they’ve all established themselves over at the marina. It
should be interesting, if nothing else.

Anyway, Holly, who had food duty today, prepared some hearty
rice and beans that were deliciously spicy. And then, for a real treat, Dalton
roasted a couple of rabbits he’d caught earlier today (I couldn’t eat them…I
was too worried they might’ve been some of the little creatures I’ve
communicated with). Everything was cooked in the larger of the house’s two
fireplaces since our electricity went out yesterday. At least we have a
generator to power the smaller things. I kind of can’t believe the internet is
still functioning…most of the time. How long until that goes out too? We’ve got
to hurry and get together, Zo!

But enough on that depressing topic…let’s see…oh, yeah!
Holly spent a hearty chunk of time at dinner gushing about Dalton’s mad hunting
and trapping skills. I think she was trying to make Jason jealous. You see, I’m
getting the impression that she’s his replacement for Cece, but…never mind…this
is gag city for you.  Anyway, I think Dalton is going to teach some of the
others how to hunt and stuff. Not me though. I wonder how you make tofu…

Be safe, Zo. Miss you desperately, and can’t wait to see you
in Colorado! I’m excited to read your departure plans. I haven’t heard from you
in a couple days. Everything better be okay, or I’m going to kick your butt.

Ciao,

Dani

“Hey there Scrubby D,” Ky said as
he entered the kitchen.

I was in the middle of an assault on a stack of
mismatched ceramic dishes that were slathered with a stubborn layer of bean
paste—tasty, but eerily similar to stucco once it dried. Since I was moderately
lethal in the cooking department, I usually ended up with dish duty. Honestly,
I didn’t mind.

“Hey there, Special K,” I replied, cringing at my own
lameness.

“Special K? Really? I’m cereal? Is that all I am to you?”
he teased.

I spared him an eye roll and continued scrubbing.

Ky hopped up to sit on the tiled counter a few feet away.
“We need to talk, D.”

“About what?” I asked.

“You tell me. You’re the one sending out the anxiety
vibes.”

I ignored him, scrubbing with renewed vigor.

He leaned toward me like he was going to tell me a
secret. “Holly and Jason are sitting by the fireplace right now. Together,” he
told me.

What? If he has sex
with her I’ll kick him in the balls. Repeatedly!

“You do realize you just said that in my head, right?”

“Did not.”

“Yep…you said, ‘What? If he has sex with her I’ll—’”

“Okay! Fine!” I accidentally dropped my latest clean
plate back into the dirty water. “So what if I did?” I grumbled, picking the
plate back up.

Ky laughed. “So…you can’t control your telepathy. You’re
talking in people’s minds when you don’t mean to. If certain people hear
certain things, then a certain
you
will be very embarrassed. Just
saying.”

“Oh.” I’d known my telepathy was far from under control,
but I hadn’t known that stray thoughts were leaking out. “Sorry?”

“Come on, D. Let Chris help. She’s itching to get her
invisible little fingers in your brain. She just won’t ask ‘cause she’s, you
know, polite and shit.”

“That’s creepy.”

He shrugged. “You trust her, right?”

“Of course.”

“So let her help.”

I thought about it. Learning to control my Ability could
be invaluable. It could also save me from some horribly embarrassing moments.
“Fine.”

“You sure? Your anxiety just spiked,” he informed me,
rubbing his temples with his fingers. “It kind of feels like you’re gonna make
a run for it.”

“I said ‘fine’, didn’t I?” I snapped. I felt a twinge of
guilt for taking my grouchiness out on Ky, especially since my anxiety seemed
to be giving him a headache…literally.

“Cool,” he said, hopping down from the counter. “I’ll
tell Chris.”

As he left the kitchen, I grabbed a discolored blue bowl
and attacked it with the scrub brush. “This’ll be
awesome
,” I muttered.

Trying to ignore the impending brain torture, I lost
myself in the monotony of washing dishes. It was both therapeutic and
finger-wrinkling. Eventually I placed the last dish in the drying rack, drained
the dishwater, and washed my hands. When I turned away from the sink, I jumped.
Chris was lounging in the chair at the far end of the rectangular, oak kitchen
table.

My left hand flew to my chest. “Chris! How
long’ve
you been sitting there?”

“Don’t know…maybe fifteen minutes,” she said, pursing her
lips as she studied me. “I’m going to test you. JASON!”

Within seconds, Jason strolled in and leaned his shoulder
against the doorframe. “Need something?”

“Yes.” Chris pointed to a chair at the opposite end of
the table. “Sit. Dani’s letting me test her telepathy. Let’s see…I need you to
knock on the table each time you hear a full thought from our girl.”

Jason’s eyes shifted to me, seeming to ask for permission,
before he gave a single nod and straightened. He walked across the room and
eased his powerful body into the empty chair at the head of the table.

Chris looked at me and explained, “I have a few theories
about your…what’d you call it? Oh yeah, your
Ability
. Anyway, to test my
theories I’m going to write down a list of sentences and then give the list to
you. I want
you
to point to each sentence as you read it so I know which
one you’re on…and read silently. And don’t read ahead. I want you to send
only
the underlined parts to Jason’s mind, okay?”

“Got it,” I said, moving to sit in the chair nearest
Chris.     

She took a few minutes to scribble the words in a
notebook, underlining select parts as she went, and eventually tore the sheet
from the book. She scooted her chair closer to mine and handed me the paper.

“Okay, I’m also going to try to pay attention to what’s
going on in your brain while you’re doing this. Go ahead,” she told me, her pen
poised over a blank notebook page. I felt like the subject of a bizarre
psychology experiment as I looked at the sheet of paper.

My
name is Dani O’Connor.

Zoe
is my best friend, and I miss her.

Puppies
are adorable.

Puppies
are disgusting and ugly.

This
is the end of the world.

Why
did so many people have to die?

I
promise not to run off again without Jason and Chris, even if a crazy psycho
slut bitch is threatening me.

Jason
is absolutely gorgeous.

If
he sleeps with Holly I might have to kill her.

I
love him!

I read the first two lines silently, projecting my thoughts
to Jason—he knocked twice. I successfully sent—or refrained from sending—the
next three lines, receiving a snort
and
a knock when I told him that
puppies were disgusting and ugly.

When I read the sixth line about people dying, images of
Cam, dead, filled my thoughts. I felt so much guilt—guilt for surviving when he
hadn’t, guilt for leaving him to die alone, and guilt for having feelings for
Jason. After receiving four knocks from Jason, I wondered exactly what my
stupid mind had sent to him. I glanced at him just as he rubbed the back of his
neck.
Not good…

I delivered the seventh line according to plan, but the
final three were a mortifying mess. I clutched onto the “Jason is absolutely
gorgeous” line desperately—against Chris’s wishes—but accidentally sent the
following line about him sleeping with Holly. When he knocked, making a
coughing, choking sound, I wanted to crawl under the table.

With flaming cheeks, I tried not to send the final line—
I
love him—
to Jason. I refused to look at him, instead glaring at Chris. She
was cracking up. I cursed her for writing those final three words on the test.

“Oh my God…too funny…” Still laughing, Chris pointed to
the
Jason is absolutely gorgeous
line. “You didn’t say that one in his
head, even though you were supposed to.” She pointed to the
If he sleeps
with Holly
line. “But you said that one.”

I hoped the universe had a sense of decency and that
Jason truly hadn’t heard the last sentence.

“What’d she say that made you knock four times in a row?”
Chris asked after she’d quieted her laughter.

When Jason didn’t respond, I looked at him. He was
watching me with a blank expression.

“Well?” Chris prompted.

Jason cleared his throat. “She said,” he began, but
stopped, leaning across the table and grabbing Chris’s notepad and pen. He
scrawled several lines quickly, tore out the paper, folded it, and handed it to
Chris. “She said that,” he said, his voice rough. Without another glance in my
direction, he stood and left the kitchen.

Chris unfolded the paper, read it several times, and then
crumpled it up in her left hand.

“What’s it say?” I asked, frustrated.
Shouldn’t I know
my own thoughts?

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do! It came from
my
head!”

Chris placed the wadded-up paper on the table in front of
me. “Fine. But don’t make it a bigger deal than it is, okay? I’m sure he
doesn’t even know who you’re talking about…he can be unbelievably dense.
Though, everything might just be easier if he knew exactly how much…”

With shaking fingers, I smoothed out the paper and read
silently:

Why
did Cam have to die? I loved him! I told him I’d stay with him. Why am I
feeling like this about someone else?

I studied the thoughts I’d sent to Jason, written in his
sharp, slanted handwriting, trying to force them out of his memory and back
into my head. His abrupt exit suddenly made perfect sense.

I tore up the paper and grumbled, “Dammit…stupid, crappy
brain…”

Chris, who’d started writing furiously in her notebook,
paused to peer at me. “Stop that,” she scolded. “We learned a bunch of things
about your Ability. You can lie…that could be really useful. Your emotions can
hijack it, but we already kind of knew that. I wonder what makes it possible
for someone to talk back?” She stopped speaking, and furrowed her brow. “Did
you hear me say that?” she asked eagerly.

“I didn’t hear anything you didn’t say out loud,” I told
her, much to her disappointment. Apparently she’d been making an attempt at
mind-talk.

“Hmmm…well…,” she mumbled, making notes. “So it’s not
that…”

“I’m kind of tired. Do you still need me?” I asked,
standing.

She stopped writing and looked up. “What? No. I wonder
if…maybe…”

Leaving Chris to her mad scientist mutterings, I slinked
from the room. Being a guinea pig was exhausting, and I could feel a mild chill
settling into my body. As I tiptoed to the bathroom to wash up for bed, I
begged the universe to have mercy on me.
Please don’t let me run into Jason!

For once, the universe obliged.

Zoe

Contentment settled
over me as unfamiliar, snow-covered mountains appeared in the distance. They
lined the horizon, and the green needles of spruces and pines peeked from under
winter’s blanket.

A young girl’s
voice carried from within the dense tree line. “Where are you?”

My attention
diverted to a treeless hillside where snow crunched under a young man’s
footsteps as he trudged uphill. “I’m over here!” he called. “Hurry up!” It was
Jake—I could tell by the rumbling timber of his voice and the twinge of
impatience it so often carried.

The sun beamed down
upon him, making his damp forehead glisten. The girl’s laughter echoed as she
emerged from the trees at the foot of the hill. She looked about eleven years
old, with coffee-brown braids framing her round, flushed cheeks. Her eagerness
to catch up with Jake was that of a little sister, and I realized it was
Becca
. 

“You’re going too
fast,” she whined.
        

“If you
wanna
know what it is, you gotta work for it,” Jake yelled
as she trekked up the hill behind him. I was suddenly closer to him and could
see the amusement lighting his eyes.

“What’s all this
about, anyway?” she asked, huffing as she hurried to catch up with her brother.

“It’s just over
here. We’re almost there.” Reaching a clearing at the top of the hill, Jake
paused and looked back at
Becca
.

“Holy moly! That’s
a steep one,” she said, taking dramatically deep breaths as she joined her
brother.

 With a smile,
Jake motioned her to the crest of the hill, and they looked down at the
children playing below.

“So this is where
they always go,” she said solemnly. There was a sadness in her eyes I didn’t
understand.

“
Becca
!” A young girl shouted and waved from the bottom of
the slope. A tall, blonde young man around Jake’s age stood behind her, smiling
as he nodded at Jake.

Becca’s frown was
replaced with a broad grin at the sight of her friends. She looked over at her
brother and exclaimed, “It’s
Lizzy
and Gabe!”

“Yep,” Jake said.
“You should go join them.”

Her face scrunched
in disappointment. “You think
Lizzy’ll
let me use her
sled?”

“Why don’t you use
your own?” he asked with a smirk, but
Becca
was too
distracted by the playing children to notice.

She furrowed her
brow. “
Heellllooo
…it’s broken. That’s why I didn’t
bring it. You know James and Kristy won’t get me a new one.”

“What about that
one?” Jake asked, pointing to an improvised sled resting against the lone tree
to the left of them.

Becca’s eyes
brightened. “You made me one?!” she shrieked and ran to it. “Why? I mean,
what’s it for?” Standing the sled on its side, she studied it excitedly.

“Your
birthday…duh.”

“Umm, sorry to
break it to you, Jake, but that’s still four months away.” Becca’s eyes focused
on part of the sled, and she gasped. She leaned closer and said, “You used your
skateboard…and are those skis?”

“My skateboard was
old,” he said with a shrug and shoved his hands into his pockets—he seemed to
revel in his sister’s surprise. “I found the skis. Consider it an early
birthday gift.”

Becca
didn’t blink as she inspected every inch of
the makeshift sled. “But you love this thing. I can’t believe you used it.”

“Whatever, don’t
worry about it,” he said. “You’ve been complaining all winter about not having
a sled. Just enjoy it.”

Her smile widened,
and she ran to him, stood on her tiptoes, and threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Jake,” she giggled. “You’re the best brother…even better than
Gabe.”

“I should be better
than him,” he laughed. “I’m blood.”

Suddenly, the world
turned to night, and I was standing in the shadows of a dark forest. No longer
blanketed with snow, the ground was instead covered with a carpet of pine
needles. There was the distant sound of a dog barking, and beside me, the
crackle of forest debris.

I turned and looked
down at the ground. A large body was stirring, struggling to sit up.

I took a step
closer. It was Jake again—no longer a teenager—completely stunned as he scanned
the area around him, trying to orient himself in the dark, imposing forest.
Midnight shadows blackened his eyes as he listened…waiting.

The dog barked
again, and with a jolt, Jake tried to stand. He lurched forward onto his hands
and cursed in pain. Reaching an arm behind him, his fingers found the hilt of a
knife protruding from below his left shoulder blade. He froze in a moment of
both confusion and understanding.

“Bennington! You
son of a bitch,” he rasped.

Twisting his arm
further behind him, Jake groaned and wrapped his fingers around the knife’s
handle. He struggled to pull the blade from between his ribs and roared in
pain. After a long, painful moment, he used a tree for leverage and gradually
climbed to his feet, letting the combat knife fall from his hand. It landed on
the ground with a muffled thud, and his hands clenched at his sides.

Spotting a handgun lying
on the ground near his left boot, he struggled to bend down and pick it up.
Shoving it in the waistband of his pants, Jake stumbled toward the distant
barking.  

“Cooper!” he
yelled, and his steps faltered.

Almost instantly,
the forest disappeared, and a room coalesced in its place. It was illuminated
solely by a floor lamp that stood in the corner between a leather couch and an
antique secretary desk.
Becca
, now a grown woman,
stood in front of the desk, facing Jake—her nearly violet eyes familiar yet
resolved to do something unthinkable.

“Gabe promised they
won’t hurt you,” Jake said, a pleading look in his eyes. “Come on,
Becca
. We’ll figure this out, but we need their help.”

Hands behind her
back, she shook her head slowly. As she did, the ends of her mussed, dark hair
brushed her collarbone. 

Uncertainty gnawed
at Jake. He didn’t trust the military men fanned out behind him, assault rifles
at their sides. But he desperately wanted to trust Gabe, his closest friend.

Becca
blinked, her lips parted in a slight smile,
and she pulled her hands out from behind her nightgown. Her fingers were
wrapped around the handle of a long, slim kitchen knife. Without hesitation,
she rammed the blade into her stomach, angling it up into her heart. Her legs
gave out instantly, and she crumpled to the floor. A mixture of pain and relief
twisted her delicate features.

What followed
seemed to happen in a single second. Jake fell to the floor beside his sister’s
writhing body with tears in his eyes.
Becca
coughed
as she tried to speak, blood staining her teeth. I strained to hear her, but
her words were inaudible to me.

Spinning around, I
looked at the four men standing behind me. Three of them aimed their rifles at
Jake, who was still crouched on the floor. Beyond them, Gabe stood in the
doorway, his face horror-stricken. He wore fatigues like the other three men,
but he wielded no weapon.

Hunched over
Becca’s now motionless form, Jake was shaking. “Get them out of here!” he
yelled. “You knew…You lied to me!”

“I didn’t…,” Gabe
choked out. “She needed help.”

Stirring from sleep, I opened my eyes to see the stark
walls of one of the trauma rooms surrounding me. I’d unintentionally fallen
asleep at Jake’s bedside. His burned and bandaged body was lying to my right.
Harper stood on the other side of the bed, checking Jake’s vitals.

As I sat up, I gently released Jake’s bandaged hand from
my grasp. I stretched, and Cooper, asleep at my feet, stirred from his slumber.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Harper, my voice only a
whisper.

He peered at me with tired eyes and rubbed the scruff on
his face. Softly, he said, “Hey Baby Girl, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but he’s dreaming. It makes it hard to sleep.”

“Slow-wave sleep…that’s a good thing,” Harper assured me.

“So, he’s doing better?” I wondered how it was possible
for Jake to heal—any normal person burned so badly wouldn’t have survived.

Harper sighed and observed his patient for a moment.
“Yes, but it’s hard to tell
how
much better. It’s only been a handful of
hours. I’ve never really seen burns like these…not to mention had a patient
with the potential to heal so quickly.” Harper paused, deep in thought. “I’m
not sure what to expect.”

Glancing down at his clipboard, Harper assessed his
notes. “His heart rate is still slower than I’d like, but he’s stable and
apparently dreaming. I’m just trying to keep him hydrated and as pain-free as
possible at this point.” Harper looked at Jake. “He’s going to have to do the
rest.”

Jake was having another brief moment of semi-consciousness,
and I could feel his sudden rush of panic and misery.
He’s in pain…but his
pain means he’s still alive…

“Can we give him more morphine?” I asked as Cooper rose
and rested his head on my knee—his ears perked forward and his doggy eyebrows
raised. I absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck.

Harper looked from me to Jake. “Is his pain getting bad
again?”

Nodding, I repositioned myself in the chair beside the
bed. I hadn’t left Jake’s side since Sanchez and Harper had bandaged him up. It
didn’t matter that my clothes were dirty and that my hair was a tangled mess
from struggling against Sanchez on the ground.

Time seemed to have slowed after the fire, hours feeling
like days. “What time is it, H?”

“Late. You should get some rest—real rest. I’ll stay with
him,” he offered, injecting more morphine into the in-line of Jake’s IV.

By the smell of smoke that lingered on me, I knew it was
time to shower. “Alright. Are we cleaning up in the locker room downstairs?”

“Yep. There are scrubs you can put on for now,” Harper
said, jotting something down on his clipboard. Yawning, he sat in a chair on
the other side of the bed.

“Do you
wanna
grab some coffee
or something first?” I asked. “I’ll stay with him until you get back.”

“Good call.” Harper stood, yawning again. “I’ll be right
back.”

I gave him a sympathetic smile as he left. My face felt
swollen and dry, and my eyes burned. As I watched Jake’s chest rise and fall, I
wondered if he could hear us talking. Cautiously, I bent over him.

“Jake,” I whispered. “I’m really pissed at you. I can’t
believe you did this…and I can’t believe you rescued my stupid sketchbook. What
made you think of such a thing? You better not have gone back for it or
something ridiculous like that.”

I struggled to maintain my irritation, knowing that if I
could stay frustrated with him, then I still had hope he’d survive. “We can
argue about that later,” I promised.

My vision became blurry with tears. “Tanya didn’t make
it,” I continued quietly. “Dave and Stacey are gone too, but you probably
already knew that. We’ll have a burial for everyone before we leave, at least
that’s what Sanchez said. We’re leaving as soon as you get a little better.
It’s not safe here with Clara out there…somewhere,” I explained. Cooper yawned
and I glanced down at him. “Cooper’s watching over us,” I said and smiled.
“Anyway, after we stock up at the PX again, we’re going to head west to Sarah’s
house. We’ll be safer there until you’re fully recovered.”

A giant lump grew in my throat as I thought about what
Clara had done. “How could she do this? I just don’t understand.” At the
thought of Dave and our other friends’ suffering, I wiped away a tear.

I stood and started pacing to settle my nerves, but
questions still tainted my thoughts. “I should’ve known
something
. I’ve
been practicing. After she poisoned me, I started listening to everything.” I
was frustrated that all my practice had been for nothing. “I don’t understand.”

Recalling what Biggs had said about Clara’s escape—that
her cell had been unlocked—I tried to think of a solution. “Who let her out?
Who
would
? None of us would’ve. Did she somehow force someone to do it?”
My mind raced…too many questions, too few answers.

“Take a break, Zoe.”
Sanchez’s voice echoed in my head
as I heard her footsteps in the hall. She paused in the doorway, looking
comfortable in baggy scrubs, and her wet hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“Where’s Harper,” I asked.

“He was falling asleep standing up, so I told him to get
some down time.” Sanchez walked into the room and took a seat on the other side
of the bed. “Go ahead and get cleaned up, I’ll watch him.”

I looked at Jake once more, told myself he could only get
better, and made my way downstairs to the locker room. Digging through a stack
of clean scrubs, I searched for something that might fit me. Finally settling
on a mismatched set—a blue top and green pants—I headed for the showers.

Although the hot water was soothing, I didn’t revel in it
as I usually would. I was in a daze.
Dave’s dead.
I couldn’t prevent
myself from imagining his final moments.
Did he burn to death? Was it the
smoke?
Was Stacey with him, or was he alone?
My chest felt heavy at
the thought of him dying alone.

We
all
could’ve died today
. Even under the
warm water, the realization made me shiver.