Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) (25 page)

Just
us
.

“I’m sorry . . .”

The vision changes, and I’m
reminded of what awaits us after that final moment. Remembering what will
happen if I stay.

Remembering he’ll die if I
don’t leave.

Reluctantly, I pull away
from him. Silence fills the room like a heavy fog, and for a long while, I
avoid his gaze, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor.

I wait for him to speak,
but those words never come. I wait and I wait, but the silence only continues.
A feeling of fear rushes through me. A feeling of horror at what I’ve done, and
even more so, what it’s done to him when he’s already emotionally broken.
Disgusted with myself, I scramble to my feet.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

With that, I’m through the
door, running as fast as my legs can carry me.

I don’t look back, even
though my heart is screaming for me to stop. I don’t look back, not only
because it’s not good for either of us, but also because I’m mortified by what
just happened. Ezra was grieving for Rai, for our
friend
, and I
selfishly acted on my feelings when I should’ve been grieving with him. I was
only thinking of myself. I was only thinking of what
I
was feeling
without giving any regard to how my actions might affect him.

My heart seems to cave in
on itself. Finding the nearest corner, I slump to the floor, gasping as I try
to get my breathing under control. However, each breath only becomes more
labored as I come to terms with the situation.

In spite of everything
that’s happened, that
will
happen, I’m in love with Ezra. I realize that
now. But staying here isn’t an option. I know Richter could be lying about the
cure, but if it’s the only way to stop this disease from taking over . . . if
it’s the only way to stop me from killing the people here . . .

Then I’ll take it.

I’ll do whatever I have to
in order to prevent that future.

Tears burn my eyes, but I
also feel a tremendous weight being lifted off my shoulders. It’s as if that
one moment has cleared my mind, making the decision for me.

My heart breaks at the idea
of leaving Ezra, especially now, but I can’t bear the thought of him dying
either. More than that, I can’t bear the thought of being the one responsible
for his death.

After a few deep breaths, I
use the wall to drag myself up. I’m unsteady on my feet, but I seem composed
enough to move forward. I proceed through the hallways, never once looking
back.

This is it,
I think to myself.

This is what I have to do
for both our sakes.

I HESITATE OUTSIDE THE OPEN doorway. I
know this is the right thing to do. Someone needs to know, so they don’t try to
come after me later. All the same, I can’t deny that I’m tempted by the idea of
just cutting my losses and running off into the night. It’s what I plan to do
anyway, so wouldn’t it be better for everyone if I simply disappeared? Besides,
goodbyes are unnecessarily painful. I would be sparing them that pain.

I would be sparing
myself
that pain.

I watch Jenner for a number
of moments, staying hidden as best I can to avoid him seeing me. He’s all alone
in the supply room, sitting on top of an upturned crate as he reloads various
weapons. It’s monotonous. One after another, he inserts the ammunition, slides
the magazine into the grip, and cocks each gun. Sure, someone has to do it, but
I get the distinct impression that’s not why he’s here.

This is his way of getting
his mind off Rai—of distracting himself from the pain and preventing it from
consuming him the way it’s already consumed me.

I shift my weight when the
leg I’ve been leaning on begins to go numb. I hop from foot to foot. Lingering.
Waiting.

Deciding.

Finally, I rap my knuckles
against the metal frame of the open door.

Jenner lifts his head. A
smile spreads across his face as soon as he sees me. “Come in,” he says with a
wave of his hand.

The corners of my lips pull
up, returning his smile. However, all I can focus on is the nervous feeling
coursing through my body. It folds in on itself, twisting and writhing in such
a way that I fear the contents of my empty stomach won’t remain there for much
longer.

He grabs another crate and
tosses it down next to me. I lower myself onto it, trying my best to hold
everything in.

“You look a lot better
now,” he murmurs.

I glance up at him. I know
by the way he looks at me what he must be imagining—what he’s likely
remembering
.
The blood. The black eyes. The monster versus the person who now sits beside
him.

I smile shyly, but I don’t
utter a single word.

He clears his throat, and I
can tell that he's just as aware of the unexplained tension flooding the room.
Why is this so difficult? After all, I’ve only known him a few weeks.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Just cut your losses and
run,
I
tell myself.
Run now.

But I don’t move, held back
by the very feeling now urging me to escape this.

“How are you holding up?”
he asks.

I shrug. “As good as can be
expected, I guess.”

Neither of us expand upon
the topic any further. We don’t need to go into detail—it’s easy enough to
grasp how the other must be feeling.

“How are you doing?” I
whisper. “How did the whole thing with your superiors go?”

He lets out a strained
breath and runs his hand through his disheveled hair. “Things are a mess. The
news of Rai’s death has spread quickly, and now the people here are even more
frightened than they were already.” He shakes his head, muttering under his
breath.

“We’ve been here too long.
It’s like we’ve been living inside a bubble and too much time has passed
without anything happening. Everyone seems to have forgotten why they’re even
here, and all the good Ezra managed to do has pretty much been reversed since
he’s gone into hiding. No leadership. The death of someone they all knew and
respected . . .” He sighs again. “Everything is falling into disarray.”

I consider his words,
watching as a grimace pulls at his lips. My heart sinks, and suddenly, I feel
torn. Maybe now isn’t the right time for me to leave. They could use me here. I
could do some good in getting this place back on track.

Yet, I know that the only
way for things to truly get better is if I go.

“Damn it,” he growls.
“Where do we even go from here? What the hell can we do? They’re always one
step ahead of us!” He tightens his hand into a fist and slams it hard against
the wall behind us.

I know I’m only imagining
it, but the room seems to shake when he punches the concrete. Or maybe it’s
just the tremors rocking his body that I notice. Either way, his rage and
apparent helplessness only add to the suspense currently clouding the room.
It’s enough to force my hand.

To make my decision for me.

“Jenner,” I breathe. I
swallow my fear, reassuring myself that
this
is the right choice. “I
have something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” He shifts his
entire body until he’s facing me head on, and the concern on his face is just
as clear as it is in his words.

I take a calming breath.
“That doctor I told you about. Richter. The one who—” My voice cuts off, unable
to finish that sentence. I can’t even finish that thought. I swallow again,
trying to push away the lump of emotion rising in my throat. “He said there’s a
cure for my condition,” I finally manage.

Jenner stares at me, his
eyes piercing and hard. A combination of shock and disbelief glow within them,
almost as if he isn’t sure he heard me correctly.

“What?” he gasps. “You
don’t believe him, do you?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer
honestly. “I know it’s probably just bait to get me to go back.”

Neither of us speak as we
each become lost in our own individual thoughts. Jenner glances away from me,
and I watch him in silence, hoping he’ll understand. Hoping, more than
anything, that he’ll support my decision.

After a moment, I lean
forward and brush my hand against his arm, forcing him to look at me. Our eyes
lock as I silently beg him to hear what I’m saying.

“What if it’s not?” I
murmur. “What if there
is
a cure?”

His expression is blank at
first. But within a matter of seconds, he seems to grasp the all-important
meaning behind my words.

“You’re leaving . . .” he
realizes.

I nod my head before
turning away from him. The way he looks at me is unbearable. Even more so than
the way he looked at me in my dream. In my vision.

Even more so than when I
saw him die.

“There’s something I
haven’t told you. Any of you,” I mutter.

I hesitate. Do I really
have to tell him this much? Does he really have to know what’s destined to
happen, especially considering there might be a way for me to stop it?
Shouldn’t I prevent this sort of knowledge? Shouldn’t I let him live the rest
of his life in ignorance?

He deserves to know,
I tell myself.
Someone
deserves to know.

“The very first vision I
had, before I was even taken to the DSD . . .”

I can feel his eyes
watching me. It’s painful to look at him, but at the same time, I feel like I
need
to see his face. I
need
to welcome this pain because, when all is said
and done, this could be the last time I do.

“It was of the end of the
world,” I breathe. “I saw it as if I was there. As if it was actually
happening.” I pause, my lips quaking as I remember the one moment that led to
all of this. “As my condition grew worse, I saw more of the vision. Gradually,
in bits and pieces. I saw Ezra first . . . and then I saw myself. We were the
only ones left as everything around us crumbled into ash.”

I lower my eyes, crippled
by guilt—just like with Rai. Everything that’s going to happen, it’s all
because of me.

Jenner listens to every
word, his eyes wide and attentive. It says a lot about his character that he
doesn’t panic, but at the same time, that doesn’t surprise me at all. He’s
always been the strong one. I can see that more clearly than I’ve ever seen
anything before.

A still hush descends upon
the room, resting between us for many long moments. When he finally breaks the
silence, his words are soft. Confused.

“I don’t understand . . .”

I bite my lip to hold back
the tears. “It’s
me
,” I whimper. “What I am. That’s what’s going to
cause it.”

His eyes widen farther, and
I know he doesn’t need any explanation other than that. He doesn’t need me to
tell him that he’ll die as well. He doesn’t need me to say that
I’m
the
one who will kill him.

Of all the emotions he must
be feeling at this moment, I assume fear would land at the top of the list. And
he does seem afraid. But for some reason, the way he looks at me doesn’t
suggest fear for himself, but for me. Here I am, telling him we’re all going to
die, and
I’m
the one he’s thinking of.
I’m
the one he’s feeling
sorry for.

But why?

“My life ended when I had
that first vision. But you . . . you’re all still alive.” My voice is soft and
controlled, even as I fight through my impending tears. I shake my head. “I
can’t let anyone else die because of me.”

Whatever was holding him
back before is broken the moment I say those words. Without warning, he lunges
forward and grabs me by the shoulders, almost knocking me off the crate in the
process.

“I told you what happened
with Rai wasn’t your fault!” he shouts. His hands grip me tighter.

“I know!” I gasp. “I know .
. .”

He stares at me for a
moment as if he doesn’t believe me but relaxes when he sees the look on my
face. Slowly, he takes his hands off my shoulders. I inhale, feeling this
burden continue to crush me, in spite of what he’s said.

“But if I had only seen it
sooner,” I whisper. “Then maybe . . .
maybe
I could’ve stopped it.”

He makes to move toward me
again, but I hold up my hand, begging him with a single look to let me speak.

“That’s what I’m faced with
now,” I try to explain to him. “Even if what Richter said is a lie, how can I
turn my back on it when I know where that other path will lead? When I know
what it will do?”

“Maybe the vision was
wrong. Maybe—”

“It’s not wrong,” I
interrupt, my tone firmer than I intend it. “They never are. Besides, I’ve seen
what my powers can do. If you had been in Bilken’s office when the Enforcers
first arrived . . . you would’ve seen it too.”

That moment is hazy to me,
even now. But through the fog of confusion, I’m still aware of what I did to
those Enforcers—those
people
. I’m still aware of what I
nearly
did to Ezra. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and it’s what terrifies
me most about this disease ravaging my body.

I can’t control it. I will
never be able to control it. It will take over, one step at a time until
there’s nothing of me left. It will work its way through my body like a
parasite taking hold of its host until I’m just a mindless killing machine,
intent on destruction.

I squeeze my eyes shut to
escape that image.

“I won’t be able to live
with myself if anyone else dies because of what’s happening to me,” I murmur.
“A cure is the only hope I have to stop this and to keep you all alive.”

Jenner is unusually quiet.
His head is tucked down, keeping his face hidden in shadow. I watch him
carefully, waiting for any movement or reaction to my words.

When he eventually looks up
at me, his eyes are brimming with the very tears I’ve been struggling to hold
back.

“I don’t want you to
leave,” he whispers.

His words hold the weight
of the world, crushing my heart and soul with a single blow. Their effect on me
is overwhelming, forcing me to come to terms with just how much he means to me.
But it doesn’t change anything. It can’t.

I try to smile at him
through the pain. “I’m so glad I got to know you. Even if it was only for a
short time.”

Placing my hands on his
shoulders, I bend down to kiss his cheek. It’s a delicate embrace, not meant to
be romantic, but as a gesture of gratitude. Everything he’s done, especially
for me, it won’t be forgotten.

“Be safe,” I breathe in his
ear.