But there was no stopping those hateful words. “If you’re truly the goddamn plague, then end her. After all, she’s suffering…she’s in pain.”
I never lifted my gaze, never turned my head. His words spoke of killing and death like it was so very natural. And after three years of suffering and loss, I guess to him it was.
But death shouldn’t be welcomed…death shouldn’t be rejoiced.
Death should be hated, and hunted.
Death should come at the end of a long life, when all the fighting was done.
Death should come for those who deserve it.
I stared at this pathetic woman, barely more than a girl. She snarled and hissed, her panicked gaze flitting from Miles to me.
Not normal…not normal. Those words stuck in my head.
I didn’t want to kill her. I only ever wanted to stop her. I glanced at Miriam, her eyes open, breath fast…in shock.
“Finish it,” Miles murmured. “It’s the Lost Boys’ way.”
I turned to him, lifted my gaze to see the smug glint in those soulless eyes. “It’s not my way.”
I wanted to shove those words down his throat with bloody knuckles. Goddamn sonovabitch. My left leg trembled, pain gnawed my side, thick and sweet, carving through the stink of this place.
“I’m leaving.” I stared at Kenya. “And I’m taking her with me.”
“No.” I flinched with the command. “The dead stay, and the dead are burned. We can’t risk others…he warned us.”
He? I raised my gaze. “Who warned you? The preacher?”
Notnormal…notnormal…notnormal…
“He said the end was coming. Said a choice had to be made.” Dark eyes burned with desire. “Said there was a savior among us…”
You need to save them…you need to find him.
The Calling filled me, resounding like the boom of a drum. Kenya…Kenya knew, knew it would come to this, knew it would end.
“Someone’s infecting us, killing us. I’m going to find that someone, and I’m going to kill them…she knew more than she let on—and so she paid the Lost Boy price.”
The hum deepened with his words. An unseen fist clenched in my chest. I wanted out of this place, and away from these people. I lifted my gaze to the quietening crowd, but it wasn’t looking for their filthy faces and torn-open mouths filled with savagery.
It was looking for the hooded figure amongst the horde…he wasn’t here.
He wasn’t anywhere.
“I want to know who that someone is,” Miles snarled, the heat of lust now icy with rage. “I want to know who and what is killing my people.”
He wouldn’t let me take Kenya. I’d be lucky to leave with my life. “My gun, at least give it back.”
“Stay,” he said. “Stay here…with me.”
“No!” Sara screamed. “You’ll take her, this fucking bitch over us...over a Lost Boy?”
“Quiet!” He roared. “I rule here!”
My skin crawled with the thought of staying, with those filthy images in his mind turned reality. Get out now…the need raged…get out while you still can. “You asked if I was the end, or the beginning…then let me leave this place and find out.”
His breath was slow, steady, as he weighed my words. “You’ll come back.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a plea. I let the words hover in the air. I wouldn’t lie…not now when the truth was such a fragile thing. Seconds lingered, until he finally nodded and answered himself. “Eventually.”
He turned and motioned the brute forward. “Give her the gun and let her leave…unharmed.”
Something in my chest soared with the words. I took one last look at the woman who helped me, who cared for me—who’d been a friend, before I headed for the open cage door.
The brute sneered as I stepped through the door. His lips curled, revealing yellowed teeth as he sneered. “You know you’ll—”
I threw my hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. “Save it. I’ve heard enough.”
A male standing behind him held out my gun, and at his feet in a heap was my jacket.
Agony roared, making me weak…making me limp as I left this Hell behind. My damn fingers trembled as I snatched the warm steel from his palm and leaned down. The room darkened. I tried not to inhale. But the heady scent of my blood was overpowering, seeping into my nose—finding its way into my mind.
I won’t make it.
The thought came to life, bringing roots and digging deep.
I won’t make it back to the lab. Won’t make it back to the others.
And they needed me.
My stomach trembled, and then hardened as I shoved myself to a stand. One foot in front of the other. It’s all I focused on as I made for the darkening light at the end of the garage.
“Let her go!” Miles boomed.
I ground my jaw and climbed the concrete rise. No one stopped me, no one even spoke. Sweat dried, itching my skin. It could’ve been blood…my blood, and Kenya’s.
Miles called me Pestilence—called me the end.
But he was wrong. I wasn’t the end…I was salvation. I was freedom.
I was hope.
One foot in front of the other. That’s all I knew now, following that desire that filled my soul. It was an evening star, a shining light…one I couldn’t see—but I could feel it.
It filled me, swallowed me, became…me. The only question left—the only question that mattered now was…why?
The preacher had answers. He could take this Calling from my soul.
Save them…Kenya’s last words filled me as Chuck, Damon, and the cold, beady eyes of Kris filled me.
My boot dragged, pain plunged like a searing knife in my side. The burn was deep, past muscle and bone to something alive with rage.
A bead of sweat gathered, falling between my brows to sting my eye. I reached for my side. Pain roared like a beast of its own as I probed gently and then drew my hand away. My fingers were bright crimson, coated fresh.
Keep going. The drive forced one step in front of the other as I climbed the rise. It’d been hours, mere hours since I stepped into that place, and yet, a lifetime had slipped away.
Two of us had walked in there. But only I came out.
Panic reared as stones scattered from my boots. I wanted to stop. I wanted to go back there, to hold her…to carry her. To find a special place to bury her—just like I…
Just like I…
Tears carved warmth down my face.
Just like I did with Mom.
My boots were heavy, arms weighed down with the memory as the cold evening wind licked the moisture from my cheeks.
I was alone…again. But this loneliness…this isolation was something more.
I wasn’t just forgotten. I was cast aside, not wanted, not needed—even death refused me…
No peace. My lips trembled as I turned the corner. No peace for someone like me. The darkening sky lit up with a savage bolt. Yellow clouds turned sullen and broody.
The storm lingered, flanking me on all sides, like it was hungry…waiting to pounce. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. Their faces consumed me, laughing, joyful as lame jokes while liquid and gas filled my mind.
And as the thunder cracked overhead, Kenya’s face rushed to fill me, desperate and pleading, her words muffled by the deafening boom.