The Future Without Hope (5 page)

Chapter
2.
The Death of the Order

SOMEONE
IS WAILING, NOT FAR OFF. I swallow my smirk, and shift forward as the press of
people eases a little. This wouldn’t be a problem—even in 1, people like to
avoid crowds and trapped places. But there is drama, and that is sure to
guarantee that here, people will cluster and gossip.

Sick
fucks.

I
see the edge of what’s holding their attention. A scarlet red robe, dark and
wet. I lean in, and see the girl.

“Was
she bitten?” a hushed voice asks.

“No.
Murdered.”

The
word ripples out, striking against the walls of the alley and echoing back. I
can see the fear in the eyes around me, in the way they draw back and eye each
other.

The
red priestess lies in alley, her eyes staring blankly into the morning sky,
face twisted in fear, marred by a single bullet hole to the temple. One side of
her face is pristine and beautiful still, even in the repose of death.

The
other is mangled, blown open by the Stopper—a modified .45 caliber bullet that
S&W put out a few months after the change. It goes in neat, with very
little mess or evidence. It comes out blowing a hole the size of a fist in
whatever it punches through—all her blood and bone and brain are gaping bloody
at the sky.

“Who
would do this?” a bewildered sounding Walker demands. “She was a
priestess.
”

I
keep my face blank, but I turn and push my way out of the growing crowd. Word
is spreading, already.

Remembering
the fury and fear in her eyes when I pressed Nurrin’s gun to the priestess’
temple, I swallow my smile and drift through the Haven.

Late
that night, I slip through the streets. It’s been five days since Nurrin
disappeared, and I’m no closer to finding her. But the Haven is in an uproar
because of the dead red priestess. More Walkers are on the wall, and in the
streets.

Part
of being able to go anywhere is refusing to believe there’s somewhere you
shouldn’t be. So even though I know there is a curfew in place—Kenny ordered it
within an hour after the priestess’ body was found—I stride through the dark
streets with my head up, and nod at the passing Walkers. If they think it odd
that a lone man is out in the streets after curfew, they don’t press me for
answers.

I
glance down at the scribbled note Claire had sent me just after lunch. Going to
her for information was risky—especially given what I was doing with that
information—but I was angry enough and desperate enough to not give a fuck. But
I still wanted to put some distance between us before shit went completely off
the rails.

I
had never dragged Claire through my personal hell. I didn’t plan to start now.

The
priest lives in one of the apartment complexes. Not surprising—even the Order
has to hang their robes up and be a Haven cog at some point. I step into the
apartment building, and eye the staircase. He’s on the fifth floor, and I have
a feeling this will be messy.

Death
is part of our world. I don’t mind that. But it doesn’t mean collateral damage
makes me happy. It happens—but I’d avoid it if I can.

I
jog up the stairs, and push open the steel door. The airlock gives a soft hiss,
and then opens. It’s not a great complex—but each floor is a secure zone. If a
live infection broke out, the security strips in each apartment would catch it
and lock down the floor.

It
would be a death sentence for everyone else on the floor, but it would contain
the infection, and keep the entire complex from being exposed.

The
security sensor above the airlock blinks as it picks up my body heat, scanning
me quickly for infection. They aren’t foolproof, but some people like to think
they are.

People
are fucking idiots. I shove the thought aside, and move to apartment 503.

There
is a little movement inside—I smirk. They dismissed the threats. Because
ignorance and dismissal will always be the choice people make until they have
no alternative.

He
won’t have one—but by the time he realizes that, it’ll be too late.

I
knock lightly, and wait a moment. “Walker business, sir,” I shout, keeping my
head down. “Open the door.”

It
opens. Because in this changed world, very few things will trump Walker
business. They’re our first and last defense against the infected, and most
citizens worship them. In 8, there were whole groups of girls who filtered
through the ranks. We didn’t need the Order-run vice clubs—a Walker merely
needed a little interest and he would have a willing bed partner.

The
green priest is little more than a child—one of those wretches born after the
change. He isn’t wearing his robes now—he’s in a pair of shorts and a loose
t-shirt that points at how malnourished he is.

The
Order isn’t protecting their own, if their priests look this shitty.

“You,”
he breathes, and I nod, pushing into the little apartment. I lock it behind me
and point at the couch. He’s still staring, shock in his eyes. “You killed
Cass.”

“I
did warn you,” I say, softly. I’m not apologizing. Not for doing what I warned
I would do. Not when Nurrin is god knows where, and I’m being refused answers.

“You
can’t just kill
people,
man,” he
protests on a loud burst. “That’s not the way the world works.”

I
push him toward the couch. He’s still standing, when I’ve been clear what I
expect. “Sit down, Travis.”

His
eyes go even wider, and I pull Nurrin’s gun. She must be furious that she’s
unarmed. The first thing I’m doing when I find her is spanking her ass for
going anywhere without her gun. Or a fucking knife. I shove that thought aside.
Focus on the problem at hand. “Sit,” I say again. Motion to the couch.

Guns
motivate people. He drops like a fucking stone. “You can’t kill me. I’m not a
zombie.”

“And
you will be happy to know that when I do kill you, it’ll be traumatic brain
injury. You won’t change.”

Relief
flickers for a moment, before it’s buried by denial. “You don’t have the balls
to murder in cold blood.”

I
smile at that. “Cass thought the same thing, until I slit her throat. She was
still alive when I blew a hole in her temple. She was bleeding out, but she was
alive. She knew it was happening.”

“Why
are you doing this?” he whimpers, and I straighten, annoyed with the tears and
snot dripping down his face.

“Because
your Order has something I want. And I’ll kill until she’s returned. I warned
you and the Haven’s priest. This should come as very little fucking surprise.”

“No
one believed you!”

“Then
they’re stupider than they fucking look, and that’s pretty fucking stupid,” I
snap.

“Killing
me won’t get her. They don’t care about me.”

I
give him a small smile. “You don’t matter. Neither did Cass. Neither will the
three I kill after you. But by the fifth or sixth dead body, Kenny will be
forced to act. 1 won’t tolerate bodies piling up in their haven.
 
And I’ll have the attention of the High
Priest in the Stronghold. And they can give me what I want.”

“So
you’ll kill us until the big boys pay attention?” he demands, his voice sharp
and outraged.

I
smile and nod. “You catch on quickly.”

I
lift the gun, and pull the trigger, the sound echoing around the entire room. I
can hear screams from the other apartments.

Travis’
body hits the ground as the apartment door closes behind me and I duck into the
stairwell. No one has emerged from their apartments. No one will. Gunshots mean
death, and death means infection and no one in their right mind will stick their
head out for a zombie to notice.

No
one sees me leave.

Chapter
3.
The Cloud Over 1

I’M
TIRED. It’s been almost twelve hours since the last body was found, and I’m
exhausted at the prospect of going back out to kill again. This might be
necessary, but I hate it. Every fucking second of it.

I’m
sitting on the bed. The house on the edge of the wall is too small to afford
anywhere else to sit. My weapons are spread in front of me, the familiar scent
of gun oil filling the tiny space. I go still when I hear footsteps outside—too
many to just be Walkers. I summon a smile, and reach for a throwing star,
tucking it out of sight before returning my attention to the gun in front of
me.

She
would hate it being dirty. There was blood splatter on the barrel, from the
night before, and I know how much that would annoy her. Nurrin was a fanatic
about keeping her weapons clean. I can’t remember how many times I arrived in
their apartment for Collin to find Nurrin in a tiny pair of shorts and
oversized t-shirt, cleaning her gun or sharpening her knives.

A
solid banging on the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink to clear my
head as the door swings open. Three of Kenny’s guards are with him, glaring at
me as the current president steps into my tiny house. His gaze travels it
quickly, and I see the subtle tightening of his lips. He doesn’t want to be
here. Of course he doesn’t. Kenny has never been one to acknowledge the fact
that I shared things with Kelsey that he didn’t—and that was never more
apparent than in this place.

I
check the slide on Nurrin’s gun, and give him a bored look. “What do you want,
Kenny?”

“Give
me a moment, gentlemen,” he says, and I smirk as the guards stiffen. They don’t
know how far I’ll go—they don’t know anything about me except that I fought
with Kelsey in the East. But they know enough to know that their boss doesn’t
have a fan in me. They don’t want to leave him alone, unprotected.

Kenny
gives them a sharp look. “He won’t touch me with you outside. Now go.”

The
door closes softly behind the guards, and I return to polishing the barrel of
the gun. “Don’t you have a country to run?”

“What
the fuck are you doing?”

I
glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Six
dead, O’Malley, in four days. That’s fast work, even for you.”

My
expression shifts, all false concern. “The murders? It’s awful. I hope you
catch the lunatic behind it.”

“Fuck
you, O’Malley. Why are you doing this?”

“I
want Ren back, Kenny. That is the only thing I’m doing—trying to get her back.
I don’t suppose you have anything helpful to add to that endeavor?”

Anger
twists his face. “I don’t have her.”

“And
I don’t have your killer,” I say coolly. “So I guess we’re both unhappy.”

Kenny
barks a laugh, all pissed off indignation. “You can’t fucking tell me that
someone else is doing the killings. No one else could. Two of them were in the
Order’s clubs—and no one saw anything.”

I
grin at him, a deliberate, lazy smirk that has his fists clenching. “I can’t
imagine what kind of resources it took to pull that shit off, Kenny. But I’ve
been out of 1 for so long—people here don’t owe me the kind of favors to pull
that weight.” I pause, letting him think about that, and then add, “But whoever
did it must be seriously determined. And mad as fuck.”

Kenny
shifts. “Is that what you are, O’Malley? Mad? Because I’ve lived with the taste
of rage for years—since you killed her. Don’t talk to me about fury.”

I
shift. I know what he’s doing—it’s what he’s always done—push Kelsey up and use
it to distract me. “Kelsey was a solider. Not just a solider; she was a
commander. Do you know how many people we lost in the East?”

He
pales. No one has exact numbers. Best estimates say that three hundred and
twenty million people were in the United States when the zombies rose. A
quarter of those died in the initial change—and then we sent our soldiers into
the East, to facilitate evac, and kill the dead, and try to reclaim what we had
lost.

Another
twenty million were killed in the ten-year Battle for the East. The numbers
were devastating, and no one—not a single person living today—could say that
they walked through the apocalypse unscathed. Everyone had dead. Every child
was an orphan.

“She
knew her odds when she went to war. She knew them and so did your father. Blame
me if you’re too stupid to realize anything else, but don’t forget that Kelsey
never allowed anyone to make her fucking choices, and I followed her into that
fucking war to keep her alive.”

Fury
twists his face. “And you failed.”

I
go quiet, because I can’t argue with that. I did. I walked away from the East,
came home haunted and a hero, and she—didn’t.

“Where
is Nurrin?” I ask quietly.

“Let
it go, O’Malley. Take whatever the fuck you think you have a right to and go
crawl back in your hole. She’s gone, and 1 doesn’t want you.”

“Fuck
you, Kenny,” I say, my face blank. Then I let my gaze drop, back to the gun in
my hand, completely dismissing him. Kenny knows me well enough to know that
it’s an insult.

There’s
a tense moment, and then, “You know they will never tolerate you murdering your
way through their priests. Even you aren’t above the Order.”

I
look up, and give him a bleak smile. “I’m sure whoever is doing these killings
has considered that. If I had to guess, I would say it is probably motivating
his actions.”

Kenny’s
eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything else as he leaves me alone.

The
knock pulls me from my light sleep, and I snatch up a weapon, rolling from my
bed to flatten against the wall. The knock comes again, softer than I expect.
Lower. I relax a little, and pull open the door. It’s a street urchin,
bedraggled and dirty. “What?” I demand.

“Miss
Claire needs you,” he says, and I nod shortly. Claire has always been fond of
using the orphans to do her fetch and carry. She pays them in baked goods and
fruit, and they bring her more information than any haven official. She gives them
a warm place to crash that isn’t the state run orphanage.

It
works for everyone.

“Tell
her I need a few minutes.”

“You
will come? She doesn’t like it when I don’t deliver,” the boy says, and I nod.
I was one of Claire’s street rats, once. I understood too well this kid’s
desperation.

“I’ll
be there.”

I
dress quickly and buckle on my weapons belt, snatching up my crossbow and
katana before I leave.

The
streets are quiet and empty. Even Walkers have deserted them in favor of the
Wall—no one has been murdered on the Wall. No one will, if things go according
to plan. I have no desire to see the citizens and defenses of 1 decimated. I
just want Nurrin back.

I
glance up. The moon is hanging low and heavy in the night sky, and I wonder if
she’s somewhere she can see it. “Where the fuck are you, Ren? We’re going to
lose Collin.”

And
there it is—the fear that I don’t want to acknowledge. I can’t abandon her—he
wouldn’t want or expect me to. Finding her will be my first priority until I
have her safely back at my side, snapping with anger and demanding answers I
can’t give.

But
every minute I spend looking for her is one I don’t spend looking for him.

Collin
will die because I have to find her, and she might never forgive me for that.