After the Ending (9 page)

“Then why is he
being so mean to me? He’s always so mean!” I held on to the inside of the tire
more tightly.

“It’s not you,
sweetie. Don’t cry. He isn’t having a very good day, that’s all.”

“He never has a
good day.”

I felt something warm on my cheek, but couldn’t break my
train of thought…

“Another scrape,
sweetie?” Dad’s scruff had grayed, but his eyes were the same dull, muted blue.

“I fell,” I whined
and pointed to the raw scrape on my knee.

He smiled at me and
brushed my hair out of my damp face. “Don’t cry; it’s not that bad.”

“It’s ugly,” I
countered.

He kissed my knobby
knee and whispered the words I’d never forget. “Every scar is a memory, Zoe,
and a reminder of how strong you are, that’s all. Besides, this
one’ll
go away. I promise.”

“But what if it
doesn’t?”

“If it doesn’t?
Then, it’ll just be a reminder that you’ll get hurt, but you’ll get better too.
Scars remind us we can live life without fear because no matter what happens,
we’ll heal. We’ll get better.” Dad’s eyes watered as he stood and walked away.

While I wished to see my father again, I feared I never
would.

Dad stood in the
corner of the tattoo parlor, ignoring the scene taking place before him.

“Are you sure you
don’t
wanna
watch, Dad?” I teased.

“Definitely not. I
can’t control what you do to your body now that you’re an adult, but that
doesn’t mean I have to watch it.” He didn’t look up from the magazine he was
pretending to read.

I glanced over at
Dani and smiled. “This is so awesome!” We giggled and whined as we got our
matching tattoos. Dad only participated out of guilt for forgetting my
eighteenth birthday, as he had other birthdays. I took less offense as the
years passed, knowing he was a royal mess when it came to Mom, whose birthday
was the day before mine.

The memories disintegrated into anger, sorrow, fear, and
loneliness that gripped my heart and tugged on it as though they were trying to
remove it from my chest completely. I dropped to my knees in the snow and
gasped for air as my heart fractured. The tears I’d been fighting for days
broke free, searing down my cold cheeks. I was exhausted and alone, left with
no other option than to face the harsh reality that my dad was likely gone.

Would he ever again utter words of wisdom to me or shake
his head disapprovingly? Would he ever again touch my face, stroke my hair, or
tell me how beautiful I was and how much I reminded him of the mother I’d never
really known? Would I ever again feel the strength of his arms around me or
hear his deep voice rumbling when he scolded me or told me to stop being so
dramatic?

If I ever loved a man or had children, would they ever
know the person who had raised me, had loved me in his own way, and had done
everything he could to take care of me on his own? Would my dad ever see the
woman I would become?

I feared I would never see my father again, and the
thought shattered my heart into a thousand pieces.

My world shrank, becoming small and empty as my fears
seemed more and more like reality. I wished Jason were with me to tell me it
would be okay, but even he wouldn’t know what to say. He never did.

December 18, 1:00 PM

From: Zoe Cartwright

To: Danielle O’Connor

Subject: Checking in…

Hey D,

We heard the man on the radio again today. He sounded very
severe and serious, but I guess with recent news, I’d sound like that too.

He said that at least 87% of Americans are dead, and that
the rate is still climbing. How does he know this, and how exactly are we alive
again? I mean, I know they say it’s because most of us have already had the
H1N1 Virus, but seriously, what are the odds? And what about the rest of the
world? He said 845 people are alive and well at the Colony, and more are
arriving every day. All sane people are welcome, and he said it’s at Peterson
AFB. I guess that answers THAT question.

Dave still isn’t really talking to me, but I’m hoping to
leave within the next couple of days. I figure we can head to Sarah’s house in
St. Louis as long as we have enough fuel. I hope we don’t run into any
“Crazies” as you called them, and I hope you’re finding a lot of survivors
(sane ones).

I’d better go. Dave keeps hollering that there are strange
noises coming from outside, but I don’t hear anything. Now that I’m wearing the
pants around here, I guess I get to go check it out. Yay.

Zoe

Dani

Cam’s tacky fingers
tangled in my hair, forcing me closer to him. Usually I would’ve found the
experience enjoyable, but his extreme and evident deadness combined with his
uncommon aggression marred the interaction. A lot.

“No Cam!” I
screamed and beat against his decaying chest. “You’re dead! Cam! Please…” He
pulled me closer, threatening to assault me with his melting lips, and I
screamed. It was the same blood-curdling scream I’d voiced in my nightmares
every night since his death.

Abruptly, Cam was
gone. In fact, all of my surroundings had changed. I was now immersed in a
vast, misty grayness. A tall man’s silhouette was visible a dozen feet away,
the only distinct thing in the all-encompassing gray fog.

“Who are you?” I
asked. I’d never before been a lucid dreamer, but I seemed to be developing a knack
for it.

The mysterious guy
startled me by answering, “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re ready yet.” He
sounded so sincere.

Drenched in cold sweat, I started awake. I sat up, my heart
beating rapidly. I could feel Jack’s head resting on my ankle and could see the
faint glint from his eyes in the darkness.

Chris, tangled in the sheets next to me, groaned with
frustration. “
D’you
have another one?” she croaked.

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Sorry. It’s just so real. Why
is this happening? Why is he always…why do I keep…why…” I trailed off into
heaving, silent sobs.

Jack whined and scooted further up the bed until he was
cuddled next to my hip.

Chris’s hand began the increasingly familiar, slow
backrub. “Hush now, hon. Hush,” she soothed, her voice and touch noticeably
easing my turmoil. Sometimes, especially when she was comforting me, her
Midwestern upbringing truly shone. I was certain she contained some sort of
emotion-drawing, mind-cleansing magic.

Eventually sleep reclaimed me.

The following morning, after consecutive nights of poor
sleep, I was feeling restless and ornery. We’d finally arrived at our
destination—a winery—and the estate’s huge, white Victorian farmhouse loomed ahead.
I hopped out of the Humvee, grateful the lengthy drive from Longview to some
Podunk Oregon town was over, and looking around, I stretched my legs. Along
with the dense woods surrounding the manicured grounds, the house oozed the
potential for ghosts and creepiness…or Crazies.

It’s not like I’ve been sleeping well anyway
, I
thought, glaring at the beautifully maintained building.

“So, isn’t this place great?” John eagerly asked Cece.
He’d suggested we stay at the winery, claiming it was “totally the coolest
place in Gold Hill.”

I rolled my eyes as I stretched, sickened by John’s
desire for Cece. In fact, anyone’s desire for the petite but impossibly curvy
woman made me want to vomit. Repeatedly.

Studying John, I wondered if I was judging him too
harshly. It was entirely possible that he sincerely cared for Cece and wanted
to comfort her—her search group had found her sister’s body in Portland the
previous afternoon. Kasey obviously hadn’t died of the Virus—according to
Jason, she’d been inhumanly sliced up. Strangely, seeing her sister’s mutilated
corpse hadn’t seemed to affect Cece; she was still throwing herself at Jason,
John, and anyone else with a penis. I had tried to express my condolences, but
I’d been worse than shut down; I’d been ignored.

Jason exited the same vehicle as Cece and ordered a
security search. Ky, along with Hunter and Dalton, two of the Army Rangers,
immediately headed for the house with weapons at the ready.

Instantly and irrationally peeved, I closed the distance
to Jason. “If there are people in there, you know they now have no option other
than being hostile,” I stated quietly. I hesitated, uncomfortable going against
Jason’s judgment, then continued, “I mean, they might be regular people like
us, not Crazies or violent on their own, but with our guns in their faces…”

He stared back with eyes that could have been carved from
an iceberg.

“Come on, Jason! You can’t believe everyone is trying to
kill us—we can’t just go around threatening to hurt every person we come
across.” Running my fingers through my slightly tangled curls, I glared up at
him.

“I won’t let you make us into
them
, into those
crazy people,” I hissed, standing on tiptoes to get closer to his stony
expression. “I won’t let you hurt good people who’re just trying to survive.”

At first Jason’s only response was a slight flare of his
nostrils. A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth followed a moment later.
“And what will you do to me, Red, if I don’t change my evil ways?”

I poked his annoyingly firm chest as I stuttered for an
adequate threat. “I’ll…I’ll…”

His arrogant almost-smile spurred me on. “I’ll spit in
your food, but only sometimes, so you won’t know! And…I’ll put my dirty socks
in your bed!” I toed his boot with my own to make the threat sink in.

With utter seriousness he said, “That’s
disgusting…although—”

His response was cut short by the approach of the
recently dispatched scouting trio.

Jason leaned down and whispered near my ear, “If those
socks are still on your feet…” He held my gaze as he stepped back a few paces.
“I’ll keep your
suggestion
in mind.”

I looked down to hide my suddenly burning face.
Damn
him!

“All clear,” Ky reported. He looked like he was trying
really hard to not focus on Jason and me—a difficult task considering he was
talking
to
Jason.

After shooting me one last frustrated look, Jason
addressed the whole group. “Alright, listen up. Grab your shit, and find a
roommate and a room. You have until tomorrow morning to yourselves. Just stay
within sight and sound of the house.”

I held back, waiting for the clustered bodies to clear
away from the trunk before grabbing my pack and duffel bag. Chris waited
slightly off to the side with her things.

“Roomies?” I asked her once I’d retrieved my bags.

She snorted, “As if I’d sentence anyone else to your pointy
elbows!”

Offended, I rubbed my left elbow with my free hand. It
wasn’t
that
pointy. “At least I don’t tear the blankets away from
you—you practically mummify yourself every night!”

“I do not!” Chris exclaimed. She pointed to Cece, who was
hurrying toward the red, barn-shaped winery. “Maybe you’d rather room with
her?”

We shared a speculative look, watched Cece stalk away,
and exploded in uncontrollable laughter. The idea was just too ridiculous.

Wiping happy tears from my eyes, I repositioned my bags
and elbowed Chris gently. “C’mon, let’s grab a room before all the good ones
are taken.” Calling Jack to join us, we hustled into the house.

Fifteen minutes later, I was exploring the winery with my
dog. Huge steel tanks, presumably filled with liquid happiness, occupied the
cavernous space. I passed them by, hoping to find where the bottled wines were
stored so I could bring an armful of them up to share with Chris. And maybe
Jason. If he was nice.

Jack scurried around the nearby alcoves, sniffing everything
his nose could reach. All
I
could smell was wine and oak.

Entering a smaller, darker room, I heard a muffled
noise—a scuffle of shoes, a rustle of clothing.

I paused in the open doorway, but Jack didn’t. He stalked
into a room that reminded me of a library, but instead of shelves filled with
books, there were towering rows of oak barrels on metal racks. As Jack stalked
down the main aisle, silent as a wolf, he abruptly halted, and his ears perked
up. He was staring into one of the dark recesses on the right. Too curious to
resist, I quietly followed his path, stopping beside him to peer into the
shadows. I’d found the cause of the noise.

Cece was there…and Jason. Barely ten feet away, he stood
with his back against the wall, his face tilted up slightly. His expression,
with closed eyes and parted lips, turned my insides molten. In front of him,
Cece’s mouth was latched onto his neck, like she was an oversized leech, and
she was murmuring and moaning. Her arm was working methodically, and I didn’t
need to be any closer to know which of Jason’s appendages she grasped in her
hand.

I squelched my churning emotions, an extremely
uncomfortable mixture of arousal and disgust, but couldn’t tear myself from the
scene. Like watching a car crash, I stood by, stared, and felt despicable.

To my unmitigated horror, a deep, menacing rumble began
in Jack’s chest.

Like lightning, Jason’s eyes were open and boring
intensely into mine. He inhaled sharply and seized Cece’s arm with one hand,
the back of her neck with the other, immobilizing her.

Seeing his eyes open and focused on me, I froze for the
briefest of moments. Then I ran. I sprinted back out the way I’d come in, not
stopping until I was in my shared bedroom. Panting, I leaned against the door.

“I really…need…some wine…like…right now,” I told a
startled Chris between breaths.

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” She set aside the
laptop and hustled from the room. Minutes later, she returned with four
different bottles of wine and two enormous glasses.

“Well, hon, what’ll it be?” she asked, displaying her
spoils like she was hawking fake designer bags on a street corner.

“Is there a red? A really big, really fat red?”

Once I had a generously filled wine glass, I proceeded to
describe the whole sickening encounter in the winery. If I held back my
inappropriate, voyeuristic response, well, some things are just too
embarrassing to admit out loud.

Date: December 18, 3:00 PM

From: Danielle O’Connor

To: Zoe Cartwright

Subject: Eyeball vomit

Zo,

Pervy
Dave is lucky that Jason wasn’t
sitting near me reading your email over my shoulder. He’s been known to try,
the nosy slime ball! But Dave stopped, right? He didn’t try to force you or
anything, did he? I’m learning how to fight, so I could kick his ass for you if
he did.

Holy crap! You’re like a member of the X-men! You
see
people’s memories? Seriously Zo, you’re like a goddess. It’s kind of
awesome...except for the part where Dave is such a pervert and has creepy
sexual memories playing through his head. But they are
his
memories. I
mean, I have lusty imaginings I wouldn’t want anyone else to see either.

But now Dave is being a baby? He’s just pissed at you for
denying him. I think you should do two things: 1) hide or throw away all of the
booze (I’d vote for hiding it) and 2) tell him about your amazing new talent.
Maybe knowing what really happened will make him act like less of an
uber
-douche dickhead. If he really cares about you, which
you seem to know because of your superpower, then he shouldn’t react too badly,
right?

Besides, the longer you wait to tell him, the worse of a
betrayal he’ll feel. He’ll think back, Zo, and based on your reactions, he’ll
know that you were seeing into his innermost thoughts and feelings. I really
think that if you ever want him to know, you should tell him (and probably
Sarah) as soon as possible.

So, we’re over halfway to Bodega Bay! Yay! We’re actually in
Gold Hill, a one-gas-station town in Oregon. Unfortunately, we’re staying here
for three nights and two whole search days because it’s the hometown of John
AND Hunter. Apparently they’ve been friends for, like, ever. At least we have a
neat place to stay...a winery!

I have a feeling that tonight is going to be pretty wild,
especially since we’ve barely been here for an hour and most of us are already
nursing open wine bottles (notice my use of “us”). I’m currently working on my
second large glass of Merlot and feeling quite happy about it.

To answer your question about Jason’s strategy, he really
does have a good reason for the slow pace. I guess he made an agreement with
everyone who came along, thinking numbers would bring safety. He doesn’t want
to split us up. He says we’d all be too vulnerable then, especially at night.
At least that’s his reasoning.

On a totally different subject, I keep dreaming of Cam.
Maybe
nightmaring
is a better word. He’s always dead,
and he’s always rotting, but he’s still talking to me. Still touching me. It’s
HORRIBLE. He forces me to kiss him and asks why I don’t want to be with him,
why I left him. But last night it was weird...there was another man. He was
tall, but that was all I could see because he was sort of hidden. The thing is,
when he showed up, Cam disappeared. Crazy, huh?

Okay, I told myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal and
that I wouldn’t whine to you, but I HAVE to complain about Cece. Again. You
see, I found her and Jason a little while ago in the winery. They were...doing
things. Things I REALLY didn’t want to see. I ran out of there like a
five-year-old girl with a monster in her closet. But not before Jason saw me.

Oh, um...gotta go. I’ll continue later if I can...

Dani

I inched down the creaky stairs. Twice, the sound of
shattering glass gave me pause during the descent. Jack’s taut body leaned
against my leg, and he whined softly with each step. Three voices grew
discernible from the room at the bottom of the stairs—Jason, Hunter, and Cece.

“She needs to leave…she’s a
hazard
. This is
our
group, and
she’s
not one of us,” Cece stated heatedly.

Hunter reasoned, “C’mon, Cece, you can’t really blame her
for—”