Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) (24 page)

Or at least it will be soon
enough.

I’m alone, just like I
always have been. Just like I
should
be. No one else has to die. No one
else has to be hurt because of me.

This is my curse to bear
and mine alone.

This is how it should be.

I know it can’t last. He’ll
appear. He always does. The one person I want to save more than anyone else.

“Ezra . . .” I whisper.

I blink, but nothing
happens. Everything around me remains the same. Yet, I can’t escape the feeling
that something feels different.

This isn’t the same vision
I’ve grown so used to seeing.

A faint noise startles me,
and I turn in place, hesitant but determined to discover the source of it. My
heart begins to pound when I see the people standing before me. One by one,
they seem to rise up from the ground—staring at me with cold,
dead
eyes.

I gaze back at the many
faces, trying to make sense of who they are. I realize almost at once that
these aren’t strangers that I’m seeing. They’re the PHOENIX members living in
the compound.

All of them are here.

All of them except for one.

My eyes search the
scattered crowd. Face after face. Lifeless expression after lifeless
expression.

I don’t understand what’s
happening.

Why are they here?

Why . . .

I stop short. My heart
drops when I see a familiar face.

“Jenner,” I gasp.

He stands out from the
group like a beacon of light in the darkness—drawing me to him with a pull I
can barely resist.

I take a reluctant step
forward, reaching out to him. However, my movement seems to act as a sort of
trigger, causing a chain reaction to spread out from the exact point where I’m
standing. One by one, screams erupt around me. One by one, the people I’ve only
just begun to know start to die.

Blood coats the
dust-covered ground. Bodies collapse into the dirt. Only a few die quickly. The
others aren’t as fortunate. All the while, their cries rage on, agony apparent
in each shrill note.

I stare in horror,
encompassed by the endless sound of their screams as well as by the question of
why this is happening.

Why!
I want to cry out, but I'm
unable to speak.

The screams continue,
taunting me with the cruel reality of my helplessness. My hands cover my ears
to drown them out, but one sound manages to break through it all.

“Wynter . . .”

I glance up when I hear
Jenner's voice, but my name is cut short by the violent spurt of blood that
spews from his mouth. His eyes creep downward, and despite the fear rushing
through me, I follow his gaze. We both gape at the red spot positioned in the
middle of his chest—at the red stain that grows larger with each second,
revealing the gaping hole that was hidden until now.

His eyes rise to meet mine
before death inevitably takes him. I can feel the pressure surround us both,
increasing with intensity until it escapes me in a rush of power, lashing out
at one of the only people I ever wanted to protect.

All I feel is his blood as
it spatters my face.

With Jenner gone, the
screams return full volume. I grab at my ears to block them out and clamp my
eyes shut as my body crouches to the ground. I don’t want to see anymore. I
don’t want to see them die.

This isn't real,
I tell myself.
This
isn't happening.

Please let this never
happen.

Please make this end.

As if answering my silent
prayers, the screams abruptly stop. My lips tremble as I open my eyes only to
find that I’m alone again. No one is screaming. No one is dying. Blood no
longer stains the ground.

A heavy sigh of relief
expels from my lungs and the back of my hand trails across my sweaty brow. I
regret my previous desire to sleep, now wanting nothing more than to wake from
this nightmare.

I lift my eyes in a desperate
attempt to wake up, ready to face reality once more. But when I do, I find that
the nightmare hasn’t ended.

It’s only just beginning.

I’m still here. I’m still
in it, standing face-to-face with the one person who was missing before.

Ezra.

It only takes a moment for
me to recognize this scene.

Moisture floods his hazel
eyes as he stares back at me with a sadness that nearly destroys me. My heart
swells at the very sight of him, but in spite of the raging urge in the pit of
my stomach, I refrain from moving closer—remembering all too vividly what
happened with Jenner.

A single tear spills over
as his lips part. “I’m sorry, Wynter,” he whispers.

This is where the vision
always ends, just after he says these words. This time it’s different. This
time, it doesn’t end.

This time, it aims to truly
hurt me.

My eyes widen. My hands
reach out to him, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“No, no, no!” I cry.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t
scream. He simply sheds those familiar silent tears as death begins to take
him, one molecule at a time. It starts at his face, his skin flecking away as
his entire body slowly disintegrates into dust.

The acceptance in his eyes
is what completely undoes me.

I try to run to him—to stop
this from happening—but I’m held back by the dream or whatever force is
determined to see me suffer. Eventually, there’s nothing left to stop. All
that’s left is a pile of ash, which is then carried away from me by the
apocalyptic breeze.

I stare at where he stood
only moments earlier, my entire body shaking in both horror and disbelief.

No,
I tell myself.
It can’t
end like this. I can’t let this happen.

I wake up to the deafening
sound of my own high-pitched screams. They reverberate through the room,
causing me to bolt upright—my lungs fighting for oxygen as sweat beads along my
skin. The cool air nips at my exposed chest as the sheets crumple around my
waist.

I lean forward and rest my
face in my hands, terrified by what I’ve seen. Was it a dream that I just
experienced . . . or a vision?

It takes everything I have
to choke down the fear that threatens to consume me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I
try to find a clue somewhere that will tell me I was only dreaming. I had to
have been. Otherwise . . .

I shake my head. I can’t
handle it. I can’t cope with the reality that awaits me if I wasn’t. Because if
that
was
actually a vision and not a dream—not a
nightmare
—then
that means what I saw will eventually happen.

One way or another.

No matter what.

What’s worse is the
realization that
I
will be the one to cause it. Not just the end of the
world, but their deaths. All of them.

Just as I feared . . .

I will be the one to kill
them.

I SWING MY LEGS OVER the side of the
bed. Tremors run across my entire body, but it isn’t the temperature having
this effect on me. It’s my fear. It’s the possibility staring me in the face.

It could’ve just been a
dream,
I
remind myself.
Like the dream I had of Ezra.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if what I saw is
destined to happen?

I already knew that the end
of the world was unavoidable. Regardless of the path I take leading up to that
moment, it
will
happen and
I
will cause it. With the end of the
world comes the end of the lives of the people here. The ruin of our planet
will go hand in hand with their deaths.

I always understood that.

But seeing them die like
that. Seeing their faces. Hearing their screams.

Seeing
his
face.

I suppose that’s when it
all really hit me. That’s when it stopped being a nightmare and became reality.

My fingers weave through my
hair, messy with sweat and tangled due to my unsettled sleep. My nails scrape
against my scalp as I pull at the strands in exasperation. I bring my face to
my knees.

Is there really no way
around this?

Is there really nothing I
can do to stop it?

I picture Ezra’s face. The
different moments I’ve seen him—both in person and otherwise—play through my
mind on an endless loop. The slide show eventually stops on a single image. On
that same familiar vision, now tarnished further by the addition from my dream.

I watch him die all over
again. It's as if my heart is being ripped from my chest, and I feel nauseous
at the sudden realization that consumes me. I know what has to be done.

There’s no other way.

Richter said there was a
cure. He could be lying, but just like with Ezra’s reasoning behind the mission
to find Bilken, I can’t take the chance that he’s not.

A cure would stop all of
this. It would stop the world from ending. It would prevent another massacre
like what happened with the Enforcers. It would save my friends.

It would save
him
.

I take a deep breath.
Lifting my head, I notice the light pouring in from the rest of the compound. I
have no idea what time it is, but it must be morning.

Glancing around my room, I
notice a spare pile of clothes sitting in a heap in the far corner. I drag
myself off the bed and throw them on in a hurry. There’s no time to waste.
Every vision takes me one step closer to that final moment.

If I’m going to do this, it
has to be now.

I pause in the doorway and
slowly inhale one more steadying breath.

It’s time to find Ezra,
I decide.

I make my way through the
network of hallways, but to be honest, I don’t have a clue where to start.
There are a million places where he could possibly be hiding here. The compound
is immense, and the options are nearly limitless. Besides, it’s unlikely he’ll
be in one of the few locations I’m actually familiar with. If he wants to be
alone, he’ll probably be tucked away in a secret place unknown to anyone else.

With no other option, I
explore every room. I scour every nook, not caring how long it takes me. All
that matters is that I find him.

I pass a number of people
during my search, and it doesn’t escape my notice how they all avoid my gaze.
The distrust Ezra had managed to dispel with his speech is once again evident
in their hooded expressions. Maybe they blame me for what happened to Rai.

With a shake of my head, I
remind myself that they don’t know about my condition—at least as far as I
know. No, if they
do
blame me for what happened, it’s only because they
never trusted me in the first place.

I decide not to worry
myself about it. I have more important things to deal with right now, and
truthfully, no one here matters to me except for Ezra and Jenner. When it
really comes down to it, they’re the only two people in this world I actually
care about. No one else has bothered to create a connection with me. No one
else has ever looked out for me the way they have, especially given the short
time I’ve known them. Rai was the only other person who had even attempted to and
look how that ended.

Still, they deserve to know
the truth. I owe them that much.

They deserve to know what
I’m planning.

It takes over an hour for
me to find Ezra. He’s wedged in the corner of a small, dark room in a section
of the compound that seems generally unused. It makes sense he would be in a
place like this. Out here, there’s no one around to bother him.

I feel unnerved by that
train of thought, realizing that’s exactly what I’d be doing. Jenner had said
that what Ezra needs right now is space. I understand that, and for a short
while, I even managed to respect it. But I don’t have time to wait for him to
come out of hiding.

Not anymore.

I waver in the open doorway
as my eyes take him in. He’s scrunched up in a tight ball with his arms folded
over his knees, and his head is rested on top of them, hiding his face.

With quiet and slow
movements, so as not to startle him, I walk over and carefully slide to the
floor. I lower myself beside him, leaving just enough space between us so that
our bodies aren’t touching.

The heat radiates from his
skin. It seems to reach out to me, and the pull of it is strong, overwhelming
me with the sudden urge to be as close to him as possible. Maybe it’s the
narrowness of the room causing this sensation. I’m not sure. At any rate, I
suppress that urge, concentrating instead on how he must be feeling.

I glance at him, unsure
what to say. After all, I’ve never had to console anyone before now. I’ve never
had to know what to say in these situations.

In our society, we are
raised to simply accept death, regardless of how or why it happened.

I breathe out, my lips
parting to speak, when I notice a small object on the floor between us. I cast
an uncertain glance at his shadowed face before reaching down to pick it up, my
fingers grazing the edges of what feels like textured paper. It’s crinkled and
old, with an image printed across it. The colors have faded with age.

As I stare down at it, I
instantly recognize the three faces looking back at me. They’re much
younger—only children at the time this photograph was taken—but it’s definitely
them.

The first face I see is
Ezra’s. He’s missing one of his front teeth and grinning so widely I assume he
must have been laughing. Standing in the middle is his brother, Austin. His
smile is more reserved, but at least there’s some trace of emotion in his gaze.
Unlike now. His arms are wrapped around Ezra’s shoulders as well as those of a
pretty girl.

Rai.

She’s smiling as well,
blushing from the proximity to the tall boy beside her. The chemistry between
them is obvious, even at such a young age. It breaks my heart to witness it,
knowing what the future holds for them when those smiling faces don’t.

I have to choke back fresh
tears as I replace the picture on the floor. I can’t look at it any longer. Not
when I can’t help but feel responsible for their pain.

My eyes peek up at Ezra. It
now occurs to me that what he’s feeling must be doubled and distorted. First
and foremost, there’s the pain of losing Rai. The pain of her death. But
there’s another pain there too. Another type of suffering running alongside it.

The torment of seeing his
brother again and realizing that he’s no longer the boy in that photograph.

These were two people who
once meant the world to him, and in essence, both of them are gone now.

“Did you love her?” I
whisper.

It’s something I’ve
wondered since the moment I saw the heated argument between them. I was aware
of Rai’s history with Richter. However, her past with Ezra was never as clear
to me.

His movements are lethargic
as he raises his head. I glance down at my hands, too embarrassed to face him.
But he doesn’t look at me. He just stares straight ahead into the shadows of
the room. Or maybe he’s looking at the picture on the floor. Either way, it’s a
long time before he finally answers me.

“Rai was like a sister to
me. She’s always been there . . . as long as I can remember.” With each breath,
the trembling in his voice becomes more apparent. “I took it for granted,” he
whispers. “I assumed she’d always be there.”

My eyes widen when tears
begin to stream down his cheeks. They seem to cover his face in an effortless
and endless wave of grief, until the rest of his body catches up to those
emotions.

“How do you do it?” he
breathes. He turns to look at me, desperate for an answer. “How do you kill
someone you love? How could he do that? How—”

His words cut off as he
breaks down in a fit of hysterical sobs right in front of me. His whole body
shakes as they overtake him. One after another, the tears continue to come—the
sound almost deafening as they drip onto the floor.

I stare at him in shock. In
spite of the reason behind his pain, I can’t help but get lost in the memory of
my visions. I’ve seen this face so many times before. Not necessarily as it is
now, but the sadness is what’s familiar.

The recollection of it
resurfaces in my brain, projecting in front of me. I see his face. I see his
tears . . .

“I’m sorry, Wynter.”

Then the image changes. I
see him again, although this time we’re no longer surrounded by destruction.

“Stay here. Stay with me.”

I remember the look on his
face as he whispered those words. I hear them again now, resonating through
every inch of my soul and forcing their way inside of my heart. Even if they
aren’t real.

Even if they never will be.

Suddenly, all I can think
about is that moment between us. About the kiss which might never actually
happen.

The kiss that I now find
myself wishing for, more than anything else.

My heart pounds wildly as
an unfamiliar emotion tears across my skin. I know this isn’t the time or the
place, but something inside of me is fighting to get out. Something new.
Something different from the monster I’m so used to unleashing.

A part of me tries to fight
it while another part is determined to set it free—to see what this feeling is.

The weaker side of me wins.

Without thinking, I lean
forward and slide both of my hands across his tear-soaked cheeks. With a gentle
pull, I turn his face toward mine, interweaving my fingers through his blond
strands of hair. Our eyes lock for the briefest of moments before I allow
whatever this is to fully take hold of me. Before I allow it to consume me.

To
change
me.

The emotions that Ezra has
been pulling out of me all rise up at once, washing over my entire being in a
turbulent wave. It’s as if I’ve been standing behind a door this entire time,
and now it’s finally open, welcoming me in.

The sensation is
intoxicating. Addictive. I can’t stop myself from embracing it, from pulling
him to me, and pressing against his lips.

Time around us seems to stop,
and I feel as if I’m watching from outside my body, looking in at a stranger.
Is this what romantic love feels like? My heart seems ready to explode. My
stomach is turning in on itself at a rate that makes me feel sick, and I’m
experiencing more in one moment than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

Is this love? Am I even
capable of such an emotion?

Yes,
I realize as I deepen the
kiss.

All those visions.

All those moments.

Did I fall in love with him
because of what I saw—because it would eventually pull us together? Or were the
visions simply a result of the fact that I would inevitably fall in love with
him?

I see us standing together
at the end of the world. Just me and him.