The Future Without Hope (9 page)

Chapter
5.
The Last of Us

I
DON’T REMEMBER THE HOURS. I don’t remember falling asleep with my head on
Collin’s chest, or even Finn at Collin’s shoulder, always ready.

What
I remember is my brother’s laugh. The feel of his hand as it wrapped around my
wrist, so familiar and perfect despite the ravages to his face and voice. I
remember the way his voice rasped as he told me he loved me. That he was proud
of me. I remember the black tar that stuck to my clothes. I remember the sharp
smell of zom repellant, splashed around the room. I remember thinking I would
never smell it again, without thinking of this.

I
remember the way he sounded, his breath shaking as he laughed at Finn. I
remember when they both forgot me—or Finn allowed Collin too—and the whispered
promises my brother extracted from his friend.

I
remember the way his grip tightened on mine, his body going tight and rigid.

I
will never forget the sound of Finn’s gun, so loud as it cut though my screams
and severed Collin’s spinal column, killing the disease before it could change
my brother.

I
will never forget my brother dying.

Chapter
6.
Fallout

FINN
IS CROUCHING IN FRONT OF ME. I can see the specks of black, tarry infection on
his shirt, and it seems absurd. I don’t know why he’s staring at me like that.

Finn
has never looked at me like this. He’s glared, he’s cursed, he’s stared with
amusement and disdain and mockery. But this—he has never stared at me with so
much pity and grief.

"You
killed him," I whisper. It's the first thing I've said since my brother
died, and was put down before he could rise a second time. I shiver, suddenly
freezing, and Finn stands, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over my shoulders.
Then he crouches in front of me again.

"You
know that's not true. I kept him from coming back. He wouldn't want to put you
in danger—I wouldn't let him."

"You
killed
him," I repeat, and
there's anger in my voice this time.

Finn
rocks back on his heels, studying me for a moment. "If you need to be
pissed, be pissed. I won't stop you or take that from you, Nurrin."

I
crumple, and Finn catches me, holding me up as I sob. It hurts, to cry this
hard. Hurts because I know Finn’s going to leave and I can't even blame him.
Hurts because there is no one left anymore. My father died just after we
settled in 8, and Mother died when I was thirteen. All I had left was Collin,
and now that he's—

"I'm
all alone," I whisper, and Finn shakes me, hard enough that my head snaps
back.

He
glares at me. “You aren't. You will never be alone, Nurrin. I'm here."

"I'm
not your problem anymore."

"Do
you think that changes because Collin is dead?" he demands, and I nod. I
do. Of course I do. What the hell else would I think? "You idiot," he
whispers.

"Fuck
you, O'Malley," I mutter without heat. I can't summon any heat. I can't
summon anything but grief and that one repeating truth.

My
brother is dead, and I can't do a fucking thing about it.

"Nurrin,
I need to talk to Omar," Finn says, softly. He's still speaking with that
cautious edge and it annoys me, suddenly.

"I
don't care," I say and shift away from him. "Go do what you have to
do so we can get the fuck out of this hellhole."

Finn
hesitates for another moment, and then he's rising, and moving away from me.

He
stops at the door, and looks back at me. "What's the only thing that
matters?" he asks, abruptly.

I
blink at him.

It's
what got me through the wait. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. But he’s staring
at me like it does. So I say the words. "You'll keep me safe."

I
can't bring myself to repeat the second half. I don't know what Finn is
feeling, with my brother dead, but I can't—I shake my head and curl into
myself.

"That's
still true, Nurrin. I
will
keep you
safe."

I
nod and he gives me a searching stare before he ducks out. And I'm alone with
my demons and dead.

Part
6.

The Brutal Reality

We
live with the dead. It’s our reality. And because we live with them, we live
with our own dead—they never quiet.

Claire
Donall-

Reality
sucks.

Anonymous-

Chapter
1.
The Dead at Our Feet

I
DON'T NEED TO GO TO OMAR. The Black High Priest is still sorting through the
shit that comes with a hostile takeover of the Outpost, and he doesn't have the
time or inclination to deal with me.

I
just can't be with her right now.

It
wasn't supposed to go like this. I was supposed to bring her back to Collin,
and they would both be healthy and we would find a safe place—not a permanent
home, because that shit doesn't exist. But somewhere where breathing was
possible, where we could close our eyes without fear of death and just
be
for a little while.

It
feels, sometimes, like I've been running my entire life, staying ahead of the
infects, never having a moment to breathe and live.

I
can say as often as I want that Havens are only slow death sentences, that
people need to let go of their fear to learn how to live again.

But
I do it too. I survive. Because for ten years, that's all I had: surviving. I
had thought with Collin and Nurrin, we could do more than that—we could live.

But
I was wrong, and one more death is at my feet.

I
think, sometimes, that my private mountain of the dead will shift, and bury me.

Sometimes—today,
with my best friend’s blood on my hands—I hope that it will. I am tired of
always being the one to survive.

Chapter
2.
The Way He Works

OMAR
LEAVES ME ALONE, to be with Nurrin. He ordered a pair of rooms set aside for us
in the Firsts Hall, and that’s where I take her after Collin is dead.

It’s
where I leave her, furious and hurting.

I
don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to calm and quiet her, so I
don’t try. I leave her, and I seek out the Priest.

There
is still a price to be extracted—for his help and for Nurrin. I slip my katana
over one shoulder, diagonal across my back, and jog down the stairs to where
Omar has set up.

The
Outpost isn’t deserted. We swept in quickly, and put down a lot of initial
resistance, and a small host of pet infects. The Order is a fucked up thing,
that they will believe and kill for the end of the apocalypse all while using
the infected for their own purposes.

I
step into the small office, and Omar flicks a look at me. Holly is sitting
across from him in the only chair. She’s ditched her red robes somewhere, and
she looks surprisingly competent in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved,
tight-fitting shirt. Her hair is pushed back, and a pair of smudged glasses are
on her nose as she types into a small computer.

“Where
is Kenny?” I ask.

Omar
glances at me, reluctantly giving me his undivided attention. “You know you
can’t kill him yet.” I bare my teeth, and Omar scowls. “I need him to force the
Havens to fall in line. And to give us the military. I will allow you to kill
him when he’s of no more use to us.”

“You
have Orwell,” I say, not that I really care. Omar can march his band of merry
psychopaths off to the East and let them all die a bloody, brutal death. I
don’t give a fuck anymore. I have Nurrin back, and a brother to burn, and a few
bastards left to kill. After that is done, the rest of the world can rot—it’s
doing a wonderful job at that, and I’ve got other shit to concern myself with.

“I
need you,” Omar says, softly.

I
shake my head. “I’m done with suicide runs, Omar. Lost my taste for them in
Ohio.”

“This
isn’t the same thing,” he protests and my head whips up.

“It’s
the exact same fucking thing, and you know it. You want to play on my
attachment to her, just like you did then with Kelsey. Except Kelsey died,
didn’t she?”

“And
you said you’d never get attached again,” Omar says. “What happened?”

I
shake my head. “I’m not fighting this war. Not again. It ended. No one believes
we can reclaim the East.”

“But
what if I could show you that we could? What if I told you that reclaiming it
was the only way to defeat the infection?”

“I
would still call you a lying bastard,” I say, shrugging.

Omar
flashes a grin. “I need you to be patient. You still get to kill Kenny—but I
need it to be after I’ve secured the military and Walkers.”

“And
what about the Havens?” I ask, curious despite myself.

“What
do you mean?” Omar asks. He’s already studying a map, and scribbling on a piece
of paper.

“While
you’re out reclaiming the East, and commandeering every able-bodied, trained
solider to do it—what are you leaving behind to hold the Havens? To make sure
that everyone doesn’t die while you chase this idiotic idea?”

Omar
shrugs. “They learn how to survive. Or they fall.”

I
stare at him, waiting for some kind of clue, some tiny tell that says he’s full
of shit. But it’s been too long, and I can’t read Omar anymore.

Maybe,
looking back on all the shit that’s happened, I never could. Maybe I lied to
myself and Kelsey, and we were both stupid enough to believe those lies, and we
deserved everything that happened.

“You
would sentence them all to die, because you’re convinced you can achieve the
impossible.”

Omar
gives me a wolf’s smile, and I do remember that. It’s the one that says he’s
got more going on than he’s telling, and he wants you to know it.

“If
you want to know, then bring your First and listen to my plan. But I’m not
going to give you bits and pieces, Finn. I’ll tell you everything or nothing.”

I
laugh. “I don’t believe for a second that you’d tell me everything. I know you,
remember. You’ll tell me what you think will get me to work with you, or what
will best manipulate Nurrin.”

Omar
grins, and nods. “Then you should be fine to hear my plan, right? If you know
how I work, you can’t get suckered in.”

I
stare at him, the man I once called friend, and hated for almost half my life.
Without answering, I leave.

Chapter
3.
The Things We Expect

I
NEVER IMAGINED WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO FIND COLLIN, and watch him die. It
wasn’t a possibility, so I didn’t allow myself to think about it.

Nurrin,
I had. Because she’s reckless and has no idea of her own mortality—the girl is
death walking. I’ve always known that one day I’d turn up, and Collin would
tell me she’d died.

I
don’t know what to do with the opposite being true. I don’t know what to do,
and I don’t know how to deal with the surge of relief, when I walk back into
her little white room and see her sleeping.

I
toe off my boots and unbuckle my weapons belt and then slip into the bed behind
her.

She’s
inches away, a strip of narrow mattress empty between us, and I can smell her
hair, the scent of zom repellant on her clothes, and the touch of infection
that lingers after so many hours at Collin’s side.

The
tension eases out of me so fast, my muscles ache in the sudden absence. I
swallow my groan, and twitch on the bed.

Nurrin
moves, burrowing into her pillow and breathing out a single word.

And
just like that, I’m hard, so fucking turned on I can’t think about the fact
that two seconds ago I was tired and desperate for sleep. There is only her,
and my name on her lips, and the fact that I want her.

That
I’ve wanted her for longer than I will ever be willing to admit.

My
dick presses against my pants, and I reach down, unzipping and cupping my cock.
My breath hisses out at the contact, and I close my eyes, my head tilting back.

I’m
ready to fucking come, and I’ve barely touched myself. She snuggles into her
pillow and then shifts, curling close to me. This is a bad fucking idea, but I
don’t give a rat’s ass. I get a good solid grip and for a moment, with the
smell of her in my nose, and the soft sound of her breathing, it doesn’t take
much. I can feel her, her hot little mouth on me, and her hands rolling my
balls.

I
stroke, hard, and I know she could wake up and I want her to. I want this shit
out on the table. I want her to fucking admit how much she wants me. I want to
rip away that shitty white shirt, yank down her pants and lick her pussy until
she screams my name. Until she’s sobbing and so wet and begging for me to fuck
her.

I
want one fucking honest thing between us.

She
shifts against me, and sighs softly. My balls tighten, and I hiss a curse,
coming hard and hot across my shirt, the pleasure white hot, blinding for an
endless moment.

Then
it fades, and I lie there panting, a cooling mess on my belly.

When
I can breathe normal, I tuck my dick away and nudge Nurrin aside so I can sit
up and pull my shirt over my head. I toss it aside and lay back down.

“O’Malley?”
she asks, her voice warm against my skin.
Shit.

“Go
to sleep, Nurrin,” I say.

“What
was that?” she asks.

I
roll so I’m looking at her. And I fucking lie, because as much as I want her, I
can’t put myself out there like that. Not again.

Not
after—.

“Biological
needs, Nurrin. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now go to sleep.”

I
roll onto my stomach and wait for her to settle next to me. For a long moment
she doesn’t. She just stares down at me, her gaze as hot as a brand. Then,
quietly, “What if I have needs?”

I
glance up at her, not sure I’m hearing her right. A slow blush is crawling over
her cheeks.

Yeah.
I heard that shit right.

“Feel
free to take care of it, little girl. I’ll be more than happy to be your
audience.”

Her
lips tighten, and anger fills her eyes. Rejection is never a pretty thing, even
when it’s from someone you don’t really want.

“Fuck
you, O’Malley,” she snaps, and falls back on her side of the bed with a little
huff.

I
want to tell her I want her. I want to kiss away the angry stich between her
brows, and stroke down her back until she purrs.

But
I don’t. Instead, I let her simmer in silence, until she finally gives in to
sleep, and I lie, a silent sentinel next to her.