Into The Fire (The Ending Series) (30 page)

“They might, when they try to get you out of here. Then I’ll
have a reason to hate you as much as you hate me.”

God, I hope not.
Their deaths were my worst fear.
Wait—how
does she even know about the escape?
I narrowed my eyes. “Gabe told you.”
That
little…argh!

She shrugged. “I’m not the enemy, Danielle.”

I raised one shoulder.

“You didn’t have to blackmail me for that.” She pointed to
the key resting against my chest. “All you had to do was ask, and I would’ve
given it to you.”

I almost said, “I don’t care,” but I caught myself. I
did
care, and I suddenly felt monstrous for blackmailing her.
It’s too late to
take it back now.
“I’ll do whatever I can to keep them safe.”

“If your actions kill my children, then everything I’ve done
to keep them safe will have been for naught.
That’s
on you.”

Ouch.
I shook my head, irritated at myself for
letting her get under my skin. “Zo and Jason might blame themselves for
everyone’s deaths if they knew about you, but I don’t. I blame
you
.” I
turned and headed for the door.

When my hand was on the doorknob, she asked, “Would you
rather I’d killed myself, thus killing the two people you love so dearly?
Gregory would have found another geneticist to engineer his virus, and everyone
would’ve died anyway.”

I opened the door and exited the office without responding,
not on principle, not to give her the cold shoulder, but because I didn’t have
an answer. I hurried down the hallway, around a corner, and leaned my back
against the wall. Slowly, I slid to the ground, and cried.

22

ZOE

MARCH
21, 1AE

I flung my bent arm up to block Sanchez’s elbow strike. When
sparring, I was required to focus on something other than the thoughts jumping
around like pesky, filthy fleas trying to distract me. I stepped into Sanchez,
hooking my left leg directly behind her right, and before she had a chance to
react, I shoved her shoulder, throwing her off-balance. She started falling
backward. Knowing my weakness was not moving away in time, she clutched my
thick braid and pulled me down with her.

“You’re such a bitch,” I joked, panting on the ground beside
her. We’d been at it for over an hour, and I was feeling it…everywhere.

“I told you to chop it off. It’s not my fault you keep it
long enough to pull.” She flung her hands above her head and tried to catch her
breath.

I’d thought many times about cutting my hair, but I was
reticent. It was the only “old” part of me I had left.

“I think you’ll get those achy muscles you wanted,” she said
as she rubbed her thigh. “You did a number on me today. Those knees of yours
are knobby.”

I only laughed.

A small smile tugged at her lips and she shook her head
slightly. “You did good. You’re quicker than you used to be and definitely
stronger.”

That was a relief. I wanted to be better. Beyond that, I
wanted my body to be as sore and heavy-feeling as my mind. I wanted physical
exhaustion to help me fall asleep without trailing, wistful thoughts bothering
me before my brain finally turned off for the night. We’d been practicing our
Abilities, too—stretching and flexing them as much as we could.

I sat up. “How are you feeling about your telepathy?”

“It is what it is. I doubt I’ll ever be able to hear
responses like Dani.”

“Yeah, but one-way communication is better than none, and it
seems like there are no distance barriers. That’s even better.”

“I’m sure there’s a limit to how far, I just haven’t found
it yet.”

I shook my head. “Whatever. At least your Ability’s easy to
control. It’s straightforward.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “But your control’s been getting
better.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I can turn it on and off. There are
some people it doesn’t work around very well.” I thought about Jake. “But that
might be more of a
me
thing than an Ability glitch.”

Sanchez took a long, deep breath and held it. “I’m…concerned
for you, Zoe.”

My eyes snapped to her. “Why?”

“Your Ability is a saving grace in a lot of ways. You can
tell when danger is coming now, or at least you’re getting better at that. You
know when someone’s lying and when they’re sad.”

She was right. Feeling what my friends were feeling and
seeing their most sacred memories was becoming increasingly easier.

“But you’ll see things about people that you’ll wish you
hadn’t. To me, that sounds more like a curse than a gift.”

I thought about it for a minute—about Jake’s private
memories of his sister and of the intimate feelings Biggs and Sarah had
whenever they were around one another. I thought about Sanchez’s memories of
her abusive childhood and how she’d come to be the women she was—I agreed with
her. My Ability
was
problematic and exhausting, but deep down I knew I
probably wouldn’t change it if I was ever given the chance…even if I couldn’t
really explain why.

We sat quietly for a moment before she jumped to her feet.
“Come on. One more round before we head back.”

It was my first day riding Shadow, so we only ventured a
couple miles away from camp, far enough to give him some exercise and a change
in scenery. Much to my apprehension, I didn’t use a saddle because the clanking
sound of it frightened him, but Carlos had helped me create a padded halter for
his face, so I didn’t worsen his healing wounds. Shadow had clearly been ridden
before, making the experience a good one even though I worried I was hurting
him half the time.

Sanchez and I rode between the rocky cliffs of a canyon,
through a long-forgotten mining community. The sound of clomping hooves
accompanied us up the rocky hillside as we made our way back to our little
western town. The steady sound of the breeze and the frequent cawing of a hawk
off in the distance lulled us into a lazy silence.

I thought about life a million years ago and how untouched
everything had been. Then humans came along and cut everything down, took over,
and corrupted most things that were natural and beautiful. But not anymore. I
almost laughed as I considered the unexpected twist of fate. We were the
minority again. We were the outnumbered visitors in a place that would continue
to thrive.
We
were the ones fighting to survive.

A few paces in front of me, Sanchez sneezed, and I watched
her for a moment, realizing how much she’d changed in the months I’d known her.
While I found myself hardening into someone I barely recognized, she seemed to
soften. She was still the epitome of feminine strength, but she also seemed
more compassionate and vulnerable than before.

“I’m starting to think we might actually have a chance,” she
admitted as she leaned forward to pat Delilah’s neck. “Between all our
Abilities…” She shrugged. “I definitely think we have a chance.”

“As long as Jason doesn’t null us all in the middle of
everything,” I scoffed.

I immediately regretted saying his name. Sanchez’s relaxed
expression hardened, and she stared out at the grassland that stretched out
before us as we kept moving in the direction of our camp, settled beyond the
next bend of trees. Jason seemed to be her own form of kryptonite. She
struggled to shrug off his indifference toward her, but she never seemed fully able
to do it.

“Stop staring at me.” She glared, but I knew her irritation
was only a defense mechanism. She trusted me with her privacy the way I trusted
her with my life.

The corner of my mouth lifted in sympathy as I felt her
vulnerability surface for the second time since breakfast. She’d had another
unpleasant run-in with Jason while he and Jake were gearing up to go hunting.

Their past was one she’d cherished before, but now it ate
away at her. Years ago, they’d been friends who could grab a beer when they had
a free evening or sit casually outside of a pool hall getting lost in
conversation, completely forgetting about the time. Sanchez wasn’t typically
like that. Neither was Jason, and that’s what had made their friendship so
special to her. I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been lovers, but the years they’d
spent together on the same base had shown her that he was someone she could have
grown to love if circumstances had been different.

None of it mattered anymore…at least, not to him. He never
so much as glanced her way unless he had to, practically treating her like a
leper. His cold shoulder and one-word responses created tension so thick that we
all grew anxious when the two were in close proximity. The longer Dani was
away, the more palpable the tension became.

“I wish we had a better idea of what sort of Abilities they
have access to at the Colony,” I thought aloud. “So we really know what we’re
up against…so that we can form
some
sort of a plan.” I thought about the
programs Dani was learning about, and the altered “people” she was meeting.
What
else is going on that she
hasn’t
seen?
The possibilities frightened
me.

Sanchez took a swig from her water bottle and slid it back
into her saddle bag before looking over at me. “We know more than we did,” she
said frankly.

I nodded, and we plodded through the scant woods and into
the ghost town, heading for the stable. When we were finished with the horses,
I took advantage of the sunlight to finish a sketch of Shadow I’d been working
on, while Tavis, Chris, and Sanchez went to get a fresh batch of water. Jason
and Carlos were probably at the sheriff’s office, whittling like they had been
the last couple days, and Harper and Jake were playing fetch with the dogs. Sam
seemed to be the only one unaccounted for.

Setting my sketchpad down, I gazed around. I noticed Sam-sized
Nike footprints in the dirt and decided to follow them. The closer I came to
the Sheriff’s office, the clearer I could hear a quiet whoosh and thunk coming
from the shooting range we’d created behind it. We’d been using the cowboy
cutouts we’d found in the General Store as targets and hay bales and sacks of
fake sugar and flour as obstacles.

I wandered over, only to find
Sam standing in the last patch of sunshine in the center of the shooting range,
his stance wide and his arms upraised; one arm pulled a bowstring back to his
ear and the other held the bow extended in front of him. He was aiming an arrow
at one of the bullet-riddled cowboys furthest from him.

I remained quiet, watching
Sam’s deep concentration and feeling the focus radiating from him. “I can feel
you watching me,” he said without looking in my direction.

Just like he could see the
blood covering my clothes in the darkness? Interesting.
A smirk lifted the side of my mouth, and I took a step
toward him, arms crossed over my chest. “You look like you know what you’re
doing,” I said playfully.

Sam let go of the
bowstring,
and the arrow flew straight through the air, piercing
where the cowboy’s heart might be. He readied another arrow, and I watched him
go through the same motions again—he let out a deep breath, shifted his feet,
aimed, took another deep breath, and then released the bowstring. The arrow
sailed off to the left, piercing a cowboy’s groin area.

“I like the way you think,” I
said, laughing. “Where did you learn archery?”

“Tavis.” Sam readied another
arrow and, again, aimed and released. When he let go, he hit his target spot
on—another cowboy, right in the chest.

“Why a bow and arrow?” I
asked, half knowing the answer already. He was young, and I assumed Tavis
hadn’t wanted him to carry a gun. There was something unsettling about making a
child shoot to kill, no matter the situation. Even though it was awkward and
harder to carry around, the bow seemed less imposing and more…civil in some
strange way. It made sense to me. I hated the feeling of cold metal in my hands
and the sound of cracking gunfire.

“I don’t like guns,” he
answered.

“Me neither,” I said
honestly. I stood and watched him while he walked to retrieve his arrows a few
dozen yards away.

“Then why do you have one
strapped to your leg?” he called.

“I need to be able to protect
myself,” I said with a grin. “Unlike you, no one’s ever taught me to use a
bow.”

Sam looked at me as he returned.
He was considering something; I could see it in his appraising eyes. “Want to
make a deal?”

“Perhaps,” I said, tilting my head in curiosity.

“I’ll get Tavis to get you a new bow from the archery place
in town, and we’ll teach you how to use it, if you’ll teach me how to draw.”
He stood there, watching my thoughtful expression,
waiting.

“You like to draw?”

He nodded. “I saw your
sketchbook in the house. I liked the one you started of the pregnant lady with
crazy hair.”

It was the sketch of Sarah I
hadn’t finished in her absence. “Well, thanks. But that seems like an unfair
deal, don’t you think? You’ll give me a bow
 
and 
teach
me how to use it, and all I have to do is give you drawing lessons?” As I
finished, I saw a memory of his mother painting in a room scattered with paints
and rags and canvases. She’d been an artist.

“Take it or leave it,” he
said sharply.

I stifled a laugh. “Do you
know how to defend yourself if you don’t have your bow?” I asked, an idea
forming in my mind.

His face was expressionless.

“How about you practice
hand-to-hand self-defense with me when I train during the day, plus you help me
with the bow, and then in the evenings we’ll draw?”

He nodded in agreement. “When
do we start?”

I smiled. “How about now? But
we’ll have to make this one a short session. I’ve been training all day, and my
body aches. Sound good?”

He eyed me skeptically.

“What can I say, I’m old,” I said
with a smirk. “Humor me.”

He handed me his bow and an arrow from his quiver. “Here you
go.”

I stared at the bow for a moment before accepting it,
surprised by the weight of it in my hand.

“You have to hold it like this…” Sam maneuvered the fingers
on my left hand around the bow’s grip and then showed me how to hold the arrow
between my index and middle finger with my right. “The fletching has to be
lined up like this,” he said, rotating the arrow in my grasp. “Otherwise the
arrow will shoot off in that direction.” He pointed to a pine tree off to my
right. “Stand with your feet spread apart a little…good. Now raise it up.” He
stepped away to demonstrate with an invisible bow of his own.

I did as my young instructor commanded and allowed myself a
smile.
I’m getting archery lessons from a ten-year-old.

“Don’t smile,” Sam chided, and I cleared my throat to stifle
another laugh. “Pull the string back to your cheek,” he said, observing me. “No,
further.” Sam huffed and groaned as he guided my arm back further. “Okay, now
let go.”

Taking a deep breath, and then another, I squeezed my left
eye closed to focus on the painted target. My fingers released the string and
it snapped back into place. A grin spread across my lips as I watched the arrow
glide past the target and land somewhere behind it. I was far from hitting my
mark, but I felt victorious nonetheless. “I did it.”