Alone (28 page)

Jules—or what used to be Jules—moves toward me, but I can’t do a thing. More importantly, I don’t want to. I’m numb as I stare into her face, searching for some semblance of the girl that changed my world. But there’s nothing.

Her hand touches my knee, and I flinch, but not from fear or repulsion. From actual, physical pain. It’s like every bone in my body shatters at that moment and I am rendered completely incapacitated.

A sob breaks out of me. “Jules.”

She pauses and tilts her head. Her milky eyes study me, and for a brief second, I think there is recognition in her eyes. Does she remember me? Is Jules really and truly gone? Or is she trapped in there?

The look is gone in an instant, and the creature that has taken over her body is back. She drags herself closer, and I reach for my gun with shaky hands. She wouldn’t want to be like this. She would want me to end it. But I can barely move, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion. I lift the gun and press it to her forehead. My hand shakes, and the image of Jules’s tortured face blurs as tears fill my eyes.

Pull the trigger
.
Put her out of her misery. She didn’t want to live like this
.

I can’t.

The gun falls to the floor, and the sound of it hitting the tile shatters the silence and radiates through my body. Jules moves closer. Her hands wrap around my arms, and she leans forward, opening her mouth.

This is it. This is the end. And I welcome it.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Chapter Forty-One

Torture

Overwhelming, mind controlling, all-consuming hunger.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Everything is muddled and confused. I’m swimming in a sea of urges that I don’t know how to control. But I am still here. A part of me still understands what’s happening—just a little.

There’s me.

There’s a room.

And there’s the need to eat that has almost completely taken over my body.

Something pierces my neck, but no pain accompanies it. It’s startling, but nothing compared to the overwhelming hunger.

I turn, and
he
is there.

Something about his face makes me freeze, almost sparking a memory.

I know this face…

Hunger creeps back up on me, and the memory is gone faster than a shooting star. The hunger radiates through my body and fills every inch of me until it bursts out of me in the form of a moan. The sound startles the part of me that is still conscious, the part locked away in my brain, but my body doesn’t react.

I
have
to feed.

The person in front of me collapses on the floor, and my stomach rumbles.
Yes.

I force my limbs to move. They are slower than I’m used to. My body doesn’t respond to me the way I want it to. It’s sluggish. Gradual. Nothing feels right.

But I can’t quite grasp the memory of what it used to feel like…

This person—this boy—raises something that seems oddly familiar. He points it at me, and a spark goes off in my head but is gone in the blink of an eye. Whatever this thing is, it is nothing compared to my need to eat. I work harder at pulling myself forward. The boy drops the thing, and when it hits the floor the sound echoes through the room, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the hunger pounding in my ears.

My hands are on him now. The heat from his skin radiates under palms. It’s inviting.

Blood courses through his veins, practically screaming at me from under his pale skin. It’s louder than the hunger. So much louder… But not as demanding.

This hunger is so,
so
demanding.

I close my eyes and give in to the hunger, to the desires. I give in to this new person that I’ve become, only vaguely aware that I was ever anything different. This new me is so easy to please…

All it wants is to eat.

Then something changes, and the desire subsides a little. The hunger is still there—always there, always surging through my veins—but it’s less intense. Everything is hazy. I can’t quite remember what I was doing. Was there something I wanted to do?

Oh yes—feed.

Roman
.

An image of his face flashes across my vision, and a jolt shoots through my body, breaking through the haze. I chew slowly and try to focus. Why was I so hungry? I can't remember, but I do know that for some reason it’s less intense now. Fading more with each passing second.

I chew for a few seconds longer, giving my mind some time to clear. An overwhelming coppery taste fills my mouth, and I cringe.

When did they bring me dinner?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to get my brain to focus.

The room.

That’s where I was. I was waiting for Roman. But he came. Didn’t he? I think he came back, but I can’t quite bring the memory to the forefront of my mind.

Something warm and slimy squishes between my fingers, but I keep my eyes shut and try to work on remembering. Roman told me goodbye. My father came to see me. I was so cold, and then sick. Then there was the pain.

But there’s something else. It’s a cloudy, disconnected memory. But it’s there.

Roman! He came back. He must have brought the vaccine?

Relief floods my body, melts away when more memories slam into me.

Yes, Roman was here.

I was
so
hungry…

I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter as my stomach rolls. Too afraid to face reality as I sort through the images. My stomach twists harder as things slowly come into focus. Bile rises in my throat so fast it nearly chokes me. I bend over, my eyes still closed as I heave and empty the contents of my stomach, but I still can’t open my eyes.

This can’t be real.

Roman
was
here. He came back to save me…but it was too late. He thought it was too late. He gave me the vaccine, told me he loved me.

Then there was hunger and screaming, followed by…satisfaction.

I gag on the memory, and my eyes fly open. Red. Everywhere is red. The door, the floor, the walls, my clothes. I look down and scream in agony and disgust. My hands and arms are coated up to my elbows, and something warm is clutched tightly in my fists. Lying on the floor in front of me is a body.

It’s so mangled.

Did I do this? Did I rip this human to pieces?

I drop the contents of my hands, too disgusted to see what it is, and desperately try to wipe my hands on my pants. It’s no use, though. Everything inch of me is coated in blood.

An ache spreads through my chest. I can’t tear my eyes away from the body, but the longer I look at it, the more raw my insides become. I have to know.

My hands shake as I reach for the body, and my mind screams for me to stop. I don’t want to know what I’ve done—but I
need
to. I grip the mangled shoulder and roll the body toward me, but for a brief second I can’t look at it. How can I face the world if it’s Roman? How could I live knowing I did this?

When I finally allow my gaze to move to his face, everything ceases to exist. My heart, my soul, my mind. It all crumbles in an instant, forming a ball and shattering in an explosion of agony that tears me to pieces. It’s all gone. There is nothing left but an eternal emptiness and agony so deep I’m certain it’s going to destroy the world for good.

And then I let out a sound that no human has ever made before. A howl of unbearable suffering and crushing despair rips through my being and destroys the very fabric of time. My heart implodes, and there’s nothing I can do but stare into the lifeless brown eyes in front of me.

I collapse as sobs replace breathing.

I don’t know how long I stay like that, but eventually the tears dry up and nothing is left but the foul stench of the room. My throat is as dry as the desert, and the blood of the only person in the world I would have died for surrounds me.

I can’t make myself get up. My body refuses to work. I’m a bag of bones with no purpose. All I can do is lie on the floor and stare into nothingness as the memories of the last few weeks play through my mind. It makes the crushing weight of despair so much more intense, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

Slowly, my eyes focus on something that’s half hidden under Roman’s body. Something silver and metallic. A gun. I force my body up and pull myself forward. I keep my eyes focused on the gun, refusing to look at Roman again.

My body screams for salvation, and I get it the instant my fingers wrap around the gun. Not a tremor moves through me, and there isn’t an ounce of fear. There’s nothing but relief as I press the barrel to my temple. My eyes fill with tears, and the empty cavity where my heart once beat throbs. My death will be far less painful than the one Roman faced. I wipe the tears from my face and focus my thoughts on Roman. I can’t bear the idea of living without him. This is for him.

Only my hands don’t obey.

This death would be too easy on me. I deserve to suffer.

The gun falls from my hand as I drag myself to my feet. Under me, my legs wobble, but I force myself forward. My hands are slippery with Roman’s blood as I turn the doorknob, and once again I have to swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.

The door squeaks when I push it open.

Goodbye, Roman.

I focus on memories of our time together, hoping to banish this memory of him from my mind. The thought of his once-smiling face makes me stronger. More determined.

My legs are heavy when I shuffle down the hall. Almost like I’m recovering from an illness and haven’t gotten all my strength back yet. Which I guess is true. It will make this more convincing.

There is no one in the lobby. No voices come from any of the rooms, and most of the lights are off. The sun is up outside, but it’s still low on the horizon. It will be setting soon.

Hopefully not everyone has gone home for the day.

I open the front door and relax at the sight of people down the street. They’re gathered outside the clinic. They have guns.

They don’t see me as I cross the lawn, heading in their direction. I’m walking too slowly. My movements are erratic, like the zombie I was just a short time ago. It’s fitting. That’s all I am now. An empty shell of pain…

I just want the pain to end.

Roman’s father is in the group, and the pieces of my heart fuse back together just enough to ache for the memory of Roman. The Regulator is frowning, and around him the other men are shouting. Angry.

I walk faster. Every step hurts. It isn’t physical, and it isn’t from the virus. It’s a dull ache that starts at my shattered heart and spreads through my body, crushing my bones as it moves its way through me.

Soon I will be as useless as I feel.

Clay spots me first. His face goes white, and his mouth drops open as I cross the street and walk slowly toward them. But he doesn’t warn the others. Maybe he’s in shock, maybe he’s not sure if I’ve turned. It won’t matter. They won’t take the risk.

A few of the other men look up, and I almost smile when they point their guns at me.

It will be over soon. The pain and emptiness will be gone.

The Regulator finally sees me and takes a step forward with his gun raised. His face is so cold. How could this man have helped give life to Roman?

Chaos breaks out. People start yelling, but I have no idea who is saying what. I don’t care—I just want the pain to go away.

“She turned!”

“Roman didn’t make it in time!”

“Whose blood is on her?”

“Kill her before she attacks us!”

I keep moving.

Clay’s eyes narrow on me.

He knows…

Why won’t they just end it?

Roman’s dad takes another step toward me, and satisfaction surges through me.

“I love you, Roman,” I whisper as I close my eyes.

“Stop! She’s not infected!” Clay yells.

A crack echoes through the air, followed by a white-hot pain cutting through my skull and—