The Future Without Hope (17 page)

Chapter
3.
Choices We Can Live With

“WE
CAN STILL LEAVE,” Finn says, shoving some clothes into his bag. It’s not the
first time he’s said it. It won’t be the last.

“You
know I won’t stop you,” I say.

His
eyes flash at me, angrily, and I smile sweetly. “Omar is waiting for us.”

“Omar
is waiting to see how much you’ll let him control you,” Finn shoots back.

“And
how well did that work for you?” I ask, dryly. A tiny twitch of his lips tells
me I’m right. “Relax, O’Malley.”

He
nods, once. “Fine. Let’s go do this. Are you good?”

I
nod, even though my stomach is in knots over seeing Kendall. I want the man
dead, and this whole experiment—testing the fucking cure—is designed to keep
him alive.

Ethan
is waiting in the hall, and falls in behind us as we exit the room. Finn sends
me a look and I shrug. The boy has attached himself to me, for whatever fucking
reason.

The
lab has been emptied. The two rooms are side by side. In one, Silas is sitting
on the floor, his legs crossed as he stares into nothing. He’s a Black priest,
and knows that nothing good can come of being held by his own people.

He
fucked up, and he’s smart enough to know it.

In
the other, Kendall is screaming. Cursing. Spewing threats like he thinks they
mean something. They don’t, and we all fucking know it.

The
infect is screaming, too. It’s being held by three acolytes, long poles with
leather hoops hooked around its neck, keeping it centered away from all of us.
Omar is watching, and I see amused approval in his eyes before he allows his
gaze to go blank.

“Ready?”
he asks, crisply. Finn’s face is bored and empty, so I nod, nervously. “Which
one first?”

“Silas.
The Grays have the serum ready to inject as soon as he’s exposed.”

I
swallow the disgust in my stomach, that I’m part of this. It goes against every
instinct I have—everything that demands we fight the infection and avoid
exposure.

“Get
it over with, Omar,” Finn snaps, and the Black Priest nods to his people.

Silas
scrambles to his feet as they push the zombie in. “
No,”
he shouts, and the zombie screams, scrambling for the meat in
front of him. For a few seconds, I think it’s going to be a waste—that Silas
will manage to avoid the infect. But the room is tiny, and the zombie is
fucking determined.

Blood
sprays in a high arc, and I hear a wet rip as skin tears. Silas screams, a
wordless noise of rage and fear.

“Enough,”
Omar snaps, and the handlers yank the infect back. He’s still got his teeth in
Silas, and I hear someone—Ethan—retch as the skin pulls tight, and then rips
sickeningly. Silas convulses on the floor as the handlers pull the infect back.

The
infect is fighting now, furious and hungry. The taste of blood is in his mouth,
and the scent of meat on the air. He screams again, and Omar shoves me aside.
“Move him,” he snarls.

Something
slams into me and I bite back a yelp. The Gray priest makes a muffled noise,
and I hiss as he pulls away, scurrying back.

“Nurrin,”
Finn snaps, “get back.”

I
stare at him, and the infect screams again, a noise that grates against my
nerves.

“What
the hell was that?” I whisper, and I freeze. Because I can see Omar, and he’s
not watching the infected. He’s not watching the president, the zombie now in
the room with him. He’s watching me, and a sick smile is playing on his lips.

Finn
follows my gaze, and I see murder in his eyes. “What the hell did you do?” he
demands.

Two
hands clamp down on me, and I scream, bucking in the grip of whoever’s holding
me. Finn jerks, lunging toward me, but Omar’s pointing a gun at him.

“I
need you, Finn. I need you with me in the East. You know the men follow you.”

“You
fucking bastard,” he breathes. “Let her go.”

Omar
shakes his head. “It’s too late for that.”

Something
shuffles behind me, and I hear a noise that I’d recognize anywhere. The shuffle
step and whining scream. Low enough that it doesn’t hurt my ears. But
unmistakable and hungry.

I’m
staring at Finn and I see everything—every emotion he’s never allowed me to
see, every end and beginning and all of the fucked-up in between. The fear and
devastation and sickening loss.

I
see it all, in the heartbeat it takes for the infect to bite me.

A Note From the Author:

There
is, as always, a host of people to thank. I’ll get to them in a moment.

First,
you, dear readers. It’s been a bit of a ride for Nurrin and Finn and company. I
love these characters so so much. And I love this world.

But
this isn’t an easy story. And right now—oh, right now. It’s looking pretty
bleak, right? Here’s what I need you to remember. This isn’t an easy story. The
story is about survival and a world falling apart, and that excludes easy. But
I do promise it’s not over. Finn
and
Ren have a little bit more of a story to tell. Hang in there.

<3

And
now for the usual suspects:

Brianna—my
amazing friend and brilliant editor who made me sound intelligent. Thank you,
my dear. Melissa Stevens, who created the most gorgeous covers ever for this
series. Jessica, my amazing publicist, for being so crazy excited about this
book.

The
NAAU group for being so very supportive, and all of the amazing bloggers who
continue to support me and take a chance on my zombies.

JC
Emery, who listened to me whine more nights than anyone should have to, and Aj,
for helping me find my confidence when I was stuck in self-doubt.

M
husband and kids, always, for putting up with my insane buried in deadline
mania. Again I still think y’all are the best.

About
the Author:

Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she
wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves
books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia
with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.

You can follow her on
Facebook
,
Twitter
,
Pinterest
and
Booktropolous
.

Read
More from Nazarea:

The
World Without a Future
|
The
Horde Without End

Edge
of the Falls
| Chasing the Wind (2015)

This
Love
|
Beautiful
Broken
|
Sweet
Ruin

Girl
Lost
| Forever Found (Dec 30)

Illicit
Desire
(writing as Taylor Michaels)