The Future Without Hope (8 page)

Chapter
2.
 
New Arrivals

I’M
SHIVERING WHEN I WAKE UP. The drugs don’t allow for much clarity at first, but
I know I’m cold and naked under my thin blanket. I usually am, after a drug
dose clears. I shiver, and tuck the blanket around me as I sit up. The rooms
beyond containment are empty, which is unusual. I stare at them, and don’t hear
any noise. I don’t hear anything.

“Hello?”
I whisper.

An
echoing silence greets me.

The
Outpost never gets this quiet. There are always acolytes cleaning and
whispering; there is always a priest murmuring prayers, the rattle of weapons
belts. I shudder, a full body convulsion as I scramble for my dress, and that’s
when I realize I don’t hear the zombies.

The
pet infects are quiet.

My
teeth clatter together as I grab the dirty scrap of material that is my dress,
and the door to Containment bangs open.

The
blood drains from my face as I watch Silas step into the room, his robes
immaculate. A young girl in scarlet robes steps in behind him, and I swallow
hard. Her eyes sweep over me, and she smiles, a slow tight smile.

“Found
her,” she shouts. Silas glances at the younger girl and she smirks. “You fucked
this all to hell, didn’t you, Priest?”

I
don’t know what that means, but the flash of fear in his eyes sends a rare
spark of hope through me.

Omar
steps through the door, and his black eyes darken a little when he sees me. His
lips tighten, and he glances at the red priestess. “Stay with her. Silas, with
me. Now.”

There’s
a bite of fury and authority in his voice that causes my eyes to widen, and
then he’s stepping back. Silas hesitates, looking like he wants to argue, but
he doesn’t. He follows Omar from the room, and I let out the half-held breath.

The
red-robed girl glances around the room, and grabs a blue robe from the pile
folded on a long table. “Put this on.”

When
I was first brought here, I would never have put on a robe. But that was before
Containment. Now, I’m desperate for anything to cover myself with.

I
shove my arms into the robe, and tighten it around me, and footsteps pull my
gaze up.

Finn’s
gray eyes are blazing when they find mine, fury and desperation coiling in his
clenched fists. I make a noise, not sure he’s real, and stumble a step forward.

“Get
out,” he says, his voice blank and flat. The girl in red doesn’t even complain
about the order, just quietly slips out. Without ever looking away from me,
Finn pulls the door shut behind him, and moves with careful precision to where
I am.

I
stand on my side of the bars, and Finn stands inches away. My heart’s pounding,
suddenly, and my knees shake. The details of the room fades, until it’s only
him, his
 
gray eyes sharp and hungry as
they sweep over me. “Nurrin,” he rasps, and I shudder, the sound of my name on
his lips making everything painfully real.

“You’re
here,” I say, stupidly. “How the hell did you find me?”

A
smirk turns his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, a blend of fury and relief
darkening his gaze. “Always with the fucking questions, Nurrin.”

I
laugh, a noise that breaks on a sob, and he curses softly. “What happened?”

“Where
is Collin?” I demand, ignoring his question. It bothers me that even for a
moment, I forgot my brother.

Finn
had been relaxing. I don’t think I noticed, until he goes stiff and tense
again. “Collin?”

“Did
you find him?” I ask, desperately. “They had him in the labs.”

He
grabs the keys and jerks the door open. For a heartbeat, as he grabs my hand
and pulls me out of Containment, his expression stutters, turning almost
painful.

“Finn.”
I pull back. “You didn’t ask if I’m infected.”

His
lips quirk into a mocking smile, and he lurches into motion. “I don’t need to.
Now come on.”

The
Outpost has been ransacked. We pass several dead priests, blood pooling around
their limp bodies, their heads neatly severed or bullets between their eyes.

Omar
and Finn took no chances, and left very few prisoners when they swept through.

A
few Grays are huddled together, held back by a blue-robed priest I hadn’t seen
before. His eyes are wary as he nods once at Finn.

“Anyone
here?” he asks, shortly.

“No
one,” one of the Gray priests mutters, looking away.

I
lunge, and trip over my robes. Finn’s arm darts out, catching me and holding me
up before I can hit the ground. “Where the hell is he?” I scream, fighting the
arm Finn has still wrapped around my waist. He releases me as I find my feet
and I jerk forward, grabbing the priest by the robes and smacking him across
the face. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

Behind
me, I hear Finn make a low noise, like a growl, and I drop the priest, stepping
back. I know O’Malley, know that he’s put everything together and that he’s
holding a gun on this bastard. I straighten, and Finn says quietly, “Check the
safe rooms.”

I
start to step away, and his hand—when did I take his hand?—clenches around
mine, so painfully tight I gasp. His gaze goes blank, and when I tug slightly,
he relents and releases me.

“If
he’s dead, I’ll have no reason to keep you alive. You realize that, don’t you?”
Finn says, almost conversationally.

“The
High Priest won’t let you kill us,” one of the priests says, his voice shaking.
I hear a low laugh, and then I scream.

“Don’t
move,” he snarls, and then he’s moving behind me, until he’s at my side. I can
feel him there. I don’t want to feel anything.

“Oh,
fuck. No.”

That
makes it real. In a way that I had been able to deny, even as I watched the
infection slowly ravage my brother’s body, it had been there in the back of my
mind—not Collin. He’d survive. He’d beat the odds, because he was
Collin.

But
hearing Finn, his voice breaking and stripped of everything that defines
him—his fury and disdain, arrogance, and fucking blankness—all of it gone as he
leans his head against the window, not touching me as we stand side by side and
stare.

There
is no illusion left to hide behind. No magic fucking cure the Order developed
and secreted away in a bunker no one knows about. There is only this. Only
death and infection and death again.

My
brother is dying. He’s dead already.

And
I can’t do a fucking thing to stop it.

Chapter
3.
A Fucked Up Reunion

“HOW
LONG?” Finn demands, still staring at Collin. The bite is fully exposed, and I
can see the black of his veins tracing along his legs, up to the thin medical
gown they’ve dressed him in. A sheen of sweat and the paleness of his skin make
my stomach turn.

“How
long since he was bitten?” Finn snarls, reaching for me.

I
yank myself out of his grasp. “How the fuck would I know? I have no idea how
long we’ve been here.” Finn gives me a sharp look and I shrug. “It’s not like Kenny
told me what the hell was going on or how many hours it has been since the last
time his pet soldiers drugged me.”

“Kenny
took you,” he murmurs. “I thought so. I’ll kill him.”

I
smile, and his gaze shifts, just a little. Flares with a heat I don’t expect
from him. Not here.

“I
need you to stay here,” he says softly. “I don’t want you exposed.”

"Doesn't
work that way, Finn," I say, and he sighs. "He's my brother."

Finn
frowns, and then he nods. "Fine. Don't do anything stupid, though. I'd
hate to have gone through all this trouble just for you to get your pretty ass
bitten."

I
grin--that is the Finn O'Malley I know and loathe. He pulls a knife and hands
it back to me, and then pushes open the door.

The
stench of infection is a unique thing. It gets in the clothes and stings the
inside of the nose, clinging to you, long after you've been cleaned and taken
away from the source of the infection.

But
this is different. This is my brother who reeks of death and decay, the cloying
sweet scent of warm, rotten meat. My stomach turns, and I struggle to keep from
throwing up as the smell slaps me in the face, riding the wet heat from the
room.

Finn
takes a cautious step into the room, and Collin stirs, turning toward us.

I
gag, and this time I do lose the battle. My stomach twists and cramps and I
retch, bile and water splashing messily on the ground in front of me. I retch,
my stomach heaving again, twisting my muscles until they ache and the back of
my nose burns. A strong hand steadies on my back and I nod. I shove my hair
back, forcing myself to straighten, my rebellious stomach to calm.

“Who’s
there?” Collin asks.

His
voice is wrecked, and he looks confused and angry and so very alien that I
can’t help my tiny sob.

“Ren?”
he asks, and his voice is desperate and so sad I stumble forward, almost
landing against the bed.

Finn
catches me, pulling me back.

“What
the hell are you doing in here, Ren? You’ll be infected. Get out.” Collin says,
furiously.

“Fuck
you, Collin.” I sniffle. “Now shut up.”

He
laughs. Even like this, he can laugh. His eyes are black pools of murky
infection, his face so distorted by the discolored veins it’s hard to see
him
. And still, he’s laughing, smiling
for me in that twisted, broken face. “Why are you out of Containment? Silas
told me you’d be locked up for a while. Until some priestess bitch named Lori
got here.”

“Lori
isn’t coming,” Finn says, and Collin jerks hard enough in his restraints that
they cut into his arms.

“O’Malley?”
he breathes, and Finn’s name sounds like a prayer on my brother’s lips.

“Yeah,
Collin. It’s me. Relax, brother, you’ll slip these restraints if you keep that
shit up, and I won’t let you endanger her.”

Collin
sighs, and drops against the bed. His eyes close. Like that, without the black
pools to distract me, I can almost see my brother again. “That’s good. This is
good. Fuck, man, you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been?” Finn doesn’t
say anything, and Collin nods. “Yeah. Of course you know. Do you know why I’m
not dead?”

“No,
but it’s an excellent fucking question. Omar is with me, and he owes me a
favor. I’m going to get you answers.”

“Doesn’t
matter,” Collin says. “It’s too late. I can feel it, you know. They didn’t tell
us that—but I can feel the infection. It doesn’t hurt. But I can feel myself
change—and I don’t know what the hell I want. I want Ren.”

I
take a single step forward and Finn catches me, his hand like iron around my
elbow. “
No.”

“O’Malley,
he won’t hurt me. It’s
Collin.”

I
can’t explain this. That Collin is my rock, my wall, the one safe thing in a
world that has never been safe, the one place where I can set down my guns and
shake my ass, be nothing more than an irritating kid sister.
 
Collin is safe right now because Collin has
never been anything but safe, and I can’t wrap my mind around him being
anything else.

“Finn,”
Collin says, “you’ve got your gun.”

Finn
nods reluctantly, and I stare at them,
 
refusing to process this exchange.

“Then
quit fucking worrying. You won’t let anything hurt her—not even me.” Collin’s
smiling as he says it, and it makes me want to scream and sob.

Finn
lets out his breath, and shifts, cocking his gun and moving to stand near
Collin’s head. His gaze darts to me. “Be careful, Nurrin. We don’t know how
contagious it is.”

I
crouch next to Collin and his hand comes up, brushing my hair back. “You okay,
sis?” he asks, his voice raspy.

I
shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”

He
laughs. “We always knew it would happen eventually. Can’t live through the end
of the world forever.”

“We
weren’t doing so bad,” I snap, angry at how fucking calm he is.

“You
need to trust Finn when I’m gone—he’ll look out for you.”

I
glance at Finn, standing stoic at my brother’s head, a gun nestled against
Collin’s temple.

“Finn
doesn’t want to be saddled with taking care of me, Collin,” I say, and I see
that strange flash of emotion in Finn’s eyes. The one that I don’t want to name
because even thinking about it terrifies me. I glance back at Collin. “But I’ll
be fine. I’m not going to die, just because you aren’t able to ask me about my
weapons supply.”

“I
wanted to see you Walk,” he whispers, and tears flood my eyes. That stupid
fucking plan. “You would have been a kickass Walker, sis.”

“I
would never have gotten though training.” I sniffle

He
laughs, and it turns into a cough, black, tarrish blood staining his lips. Finn
tenses, and I ignore his order to stay back as I lean in and hug him. Because I
don’t give a fuck, not right now. Not if I change. I only know that my brother
is dying and I can’t stop it.

“Ren.
You will survive this. Do you hear me?” Collin whispers into my hair.

I
nod, even though I don’t believe him. I don’t know how to survive this.

I
don’t even know if I want to.

Chapter
4.
The Inbetween

OMAR
FINDS US THERE. His eyes skate over me, and then to Finn. “All this and you let
her hug an open infection? Idiot.”

Finn
throws the knife before I can blink and Omar ducks to one side, laughing as the
blade embeds in the stone behind him.

“Sloppy,
O’Malley.”

“Fuck
you, priest,” Finn says.

Collin
is asleep—he passed out a few minutes earlier, in the middle of telling me how
to survive alone and that the Havens were death traps. I couldn’t bring myself
to move away from him, and Finn stood silent sentry over both of us.

“We
need to talk.” Omar says

Finn
nods, and glances at me. “She stays with me.”

If
that surprises anyone but me, no one shows it. Finn waits for me to push to my
feet, and then nods at Collin. “Leave Holly here.”

“You
trust my people to watch your partner?” Omar says, his voice surprised and
genuinely curious.

Finn
shakes his head. “No. But I know she’s in love with you and if anything happens
to Collin while I’m gone, I’ll kill you.”

The
red-robed priestess’ eyes widen, and then narrow furiously and Finn smiles,
tight and humorless. “Lead the way, High Priest.”

I
lean close to him as Omar steps out, and whisper, “What the hell, O’Malley?”

He
gives me a flat blank look. “No questions. Let’s go.”

We’re
back to this then. The momentary truce and understanding is gone.

I
pull back, and glare at him. "You can't do that shit anymore. You can't
push me to the outside and expect me to be okay with it. You have no idea what
the hell I've been through."

His
gaze tightens, furious. "I don't give a fuck what you've been through. Not
right now. Right now, I need answers from Omar and the crazy bastards in charge
of this hell hole, and then I need to get you as fucking far from here as I
can. Do you understand? That is my goal. That's my only fucking goal, and I
need you to shut the fuck up and keep the Order from remembering you. Do you
think for five fucking minutes you could do what I need?"

I
glare, but I don't argue. I've spent long enough with Finn guarding my back to
know he's not doing this to piss me off.

I
clench my teeth, and he nods, grabbing me and pulling me along behind him.

Omar
has commandeered Silas' little office, and the younger priest's eyes widen when
he sees me. I lean into Finn. "I want him dead," I whisper, and
across the little room, Omar laughs. Clearly I need to work on my whispering
skills.

"We'll
do what we can to appease your bloodthirsty little savage, O'Malley. But she
can't have all of my people." Omar's eyes skim me, and he gives me a
slightly apologetic grimace. "I am sorry, Nurrin. This was never my
intent. The alliance between Stiles and the Red High Priestess was beyond my
influence."

A
hundred questions are on the tip of my tongue, but I slide a glance at Finn,
and sit in the chair he nudges me toward. I expect him to take the one beside
me, but he doesn't. He straightens, and I can feel his tension as he stands
behind me.

It's
almost protective.

"What
the hell is happening to Collin?"

Omar
glances at Silas. The Black Priest frowns. "He arrived infected, which
doesn't help us much. Ren proved pretty quickly that she would be difficult to
acclimate. So we gave him to the Grays. They're working on a new serum—one of
the CDC scientists said it would slow the infection. It's not a cure, but the
medicine can slow it enough that the infected can live. Not well, and they'd
need to be quarantined, but they don't change completely. They don't lose their
brain function or bite."

It's
more than anyone has ever achieved. But I saw my brother, and I'm not under any
delusions. Even with that minor miracle, it's not a life I would want to offer
to anyone.

“Living
is more than not dying," Finn says, softly.

Omar's
gaze shifts to him, and I struggle not to squirm under his intense stare.
"It's not meant for people who have been bitten. It's meant for soldiers
who haven't."

Finn
slowly eases back a half step. "It prevents mutation. How?"

"How
the fuck would I know?" Silas snaps. "I'm not a fucking Gray. I just
repeat the shit they tell me. If you wanted answers, maybe you shouldn't have
fucking killed the entire fucking Outpost."

I
smirk at him, and snap my teeth. Silas hisses, and lurches forward. Finn's gun
appears suddenly in my peripheral vision and I laugh, a dark noise even to my
own ears.

"Don't
fucking think about it.” Finn says, his voice a tight warning, “I want a reason
to kill you, but Omar wants you alive. If you don't want me to ignore that
particular request, you sit back and keep your fucking eyes off her."

The
other man pales, but he does what he's told. Sits back slowly and swallows
hard. "We don't get told what they're doing. And, Priest, I didn't know
this First was under your protection. I would never have touched her if I had
known. You know that."

Omar
frowns. "I don't know anything. I know that you were given care of the
Firsts and you let one be beaten, drugged. Who the fuck knows what else.”

I
don't move. Can't move. Can't look at him, or Finn behind me, or anything but
the rough weave of my borrowed robe.

I
know what else. I've woken up with the bruises, the wet evidence that made me
throw up in fear and disgust, once the drugs wore off. I know the answer, but I
never wanted Finn to. I never wanted him to see me as that weak. I swallow
hard, swallow my tears and my fear. Finn breathes a soft curse, and then he's
moving, and Silas screams. I look up, and see a knife sticking out of his
shoulder. "You fucking bastard," Finn whispers, his voice so blank
and emotionless it’s terrifying.

"O'Malley,"
Omar snaps, "Not yet. We need answers first."

Finn
stops, and glares at Omar. The Black Priest lifts a hand. “When we have the
information, I will stand aside, and you can let the girl kill him however she
wants. Give her that vengeance. But first, we get answers.”

I
look up, and catch Silas’ gaze, terrified and beginning to understand how truly
fucked he is. “I want his knife. I want to cut off every piece of him that
could be used to hurt me, shatter his jaw so he can’t hurt anyone, and let the
bastard change.” I murmur, my voice almost dreamy as I spin out his fate, and
watch him pale.

Finn
glances back at me, and I see respect and dark approval in his eyes. He nods
once and I straighten. “Will Collin die?” I ask abruptly. Fuck Finn and his stupid
fucking rules about questions and what I shouldn’t be doing. This is the only
question that matters to me right now.

“Yes.”
Silas says, softly.

I
knew it, and it still hurts, to hear it so bluntly stated. I lean forward,
huddling in my robe, and avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.

“We
didn’t give him the drug before he was bitten. And we didn’t get him until
almost 36 hours post-infection. The Grays said that makes a difference. We did
what we could—bought him a week—but he’ll turn in the next twelve to
twenty-four hours.”

“I
need a few minutes, with Nurrin,” Finn says softly.

“No,”
I say. I shake my head. “I need to go to Collin.”

“Nurrin,”
he says, softly.

“Fuck
you, O’Malley,” I scream. “I want my fucking brother.”

There’s
a moment, long and tense and silent, and then the scrape of metal against metal
as he slips his knife into its sheath. “This shit will need to wait, Omar. Keep
that bastard alive, and find out whatever the hell you need to know before I’m
allowed to kill him.” He grabs my arm, and pulls me up. “Come on, then.”