Chapter 12
Imight’ve managed to break free of the Grave, but I can never escape the nightmares.
Since the Turning, they’ve been bad, but they’ve gotten so much worse after what happened to my twin. There’s not a single night when I don’t have at least one. The only real question is just how bad it’ll be.
Sometimes I dream of what the future could look like at the end of the world.
Those are some of the scariest because there are fewer and fewer survivors these days.
Supplies will run out. The danger only increases…
but the lurkers keep on coming no matter what.
They’re endless, and that’s why it’s so important to find a way to take out a huge nest. Maybe I won’t survive it, but if I can make a dent in those fuckers, it’ll be worth it.
Some nights, I relive the past, thinking of what my life was like in the before times. I hate those nightmares the most. When I’m weeping, hot tears seeping through clamped together eyes, torn between then and now… I ache because of how much I miss the way the world used to be.
I miss Mom. Rory. Hallie. Our old neighbor Sam, and his sweet daughter, Brianna. Jack’s sisters died; no more aunts, uncles, and cousins. Neighborhood strays… the sweet orange cat I was working to convince to move in with me… they were easy pickings for the lurkers.
Raccoons who made their home in the trees behind my house. Deer. Skunks even… when the lurkers can’t get human meat, anything will do.
Unbroken streets… our journey toward the city proves how damaged the world is now.
Before the lurkers realized they could hide in abandoned houses to keep from burning up in the daylight, they used their inhuman strength to rip through asphalt and tear up the earth.
Cars crumple on impact against their density.
They destroyed more than just the way things were.
They destroy everything.
And that’s why, most of all, I dream of the actual Turning and what it stole from me on January 1st.
It didn’t happen all at once. It wasn’t like there was a light switch that was flicked, engaging the Injection.
The Turning happened slowly, with a report of a few hostiles going wild in one of the hospitals on the other side of town.
They locked down the ER, the police and fire department—including Jack’s engine—being sent to contain the situation.
Rory was on-duty that New Year’s Day, but he wasn’t on the truck.
He was at the firehouse, holding down the fort with three of his colleagues.
When four more reports came in about other offenders all over the county, he risked taking the five-minute ride from the station to the Holden house just to check in on the rest of us.
Hallie was at the Knight house. It was just Mom and me home… and we were the only ones there to witness it when my beloved older brother started to Turn.
His ruddy skin went pale. That was the first sign.
Always an outdoorsman when he wasn’t on-duty, he was darker than me, freckles dotting his arms, his face, his back.
Not then. He went as white as a ghost, sweat pouring from his brow.
His dark blond hair turned brown from the sweat, but when he shoved it out of his face, a whole hunk of it fell out with the motion.
I remember that so fucking vividly. All that hair stuck to his fingers, the way he stared at it with wide eyes.
Black eyes.
Rory had brown eyes, just like Jack. As the Injection took over, he doubled over, arms wrapped around his middle, a moan of pain erupting from him… I stared at his eyes. It looked like someone filled them with black ink. The irises were black. The sclera were black.
His eyes were black.
And that’s when his teeth started to elongate—
“Xandra?”
Run, Mom, run! Rory, what are you… No—
“Xandra? Hey, Xandra!”
A sharp jerk of my shoulder and I thrash awake. The hungry drool dripping from what was once my brother’s maw disappears in an instant as I blink away my latest nightmare, staring up at the moon overhead.
Maverick is crouched beside me. I’m hugging my backpack, face turned away from my fellow hunter, but his arm is still on the shoulder of Rory’s jacket.
The nightmare is still too fresh. I have a flash of my brother in his firefighter uniform, the last thing he was wearing before I grabbed the steak knife and lost my fucking mind, burying it in him in a frenzy that I’ve blocked out so completely that all I remember now is walking into the kitchen to see him Turned and dead on the floor while Mom…
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories. At the same time, I knock Maverick’s hand from my shoulder.
This jacket is the last thing I have of my brother’s.
He loved this damn thing. It had been a gift from Nina, given to him on their first Christmas together.
He still lived at home; just like how Hallie and Chase were saving up to buy a place together, Rory and Nina were doing the same.
When it finally hit us that he was gone, I asked my twin what we should do with it.
We decided to keep it, and as long as I wear it, it’s like he’s still with me.
Same with Mom. When the lurkers began to infest our neighborhood and Jack realized we had to leave, we knew we couldn’t take much of our old lives with us.
Some pictures, some mementoes, as many clothes as we could carry…
it was survival supplies that we prioritized, but my twin and I each took a piece of jewelry from Mom’s jewelry box.
She liked to collect simple necklaces, anklets, bracelets, and rings.
Twins to the end, no matter how different we were, we both grabbed a silver anklet.
I’m wearing mine under my sock right now. I resist the urge to reach deep inside of the sleeping bag, patting it to see if it’s still there. Instead, I pull myself up into a sitting position, searching for the fire.
It’s still roaring within the pit that Maverick built before we settled down for the night.
That’s a relief.
My heart rate slows. I didn’t realize I could hear it pounding in my ears until the sound of the fire crackling against the kindling replaces it.
Shit.
What time is it?
I don’t know. I don’t feel like I slept enough, though that might be the aftereffect from my latest nightmare.
After last night I hadn’t wanted to fall so deeply asleep.
Afraid that the fire might go out again, I planned on staying up as long as I could before getting enough rest that I’d be able to travel even further tomorrow.
Of course, that was before Maverick pushed me to my limits. As soon as the sun went down and Maverick swore he could be trusted to take first watch, I laid out my sleeping bag and passed out on the grass.
It’s still impossibly dark out, with only the fire and the faint moonlight allowing me to see. Rolling on my back, releasing my iron-tight hold on my pack, I meet Maverick’s curious gaze.
The fire silhouettes the man, throwing shadows over him. I sense his concern more than I can see it as he slowly draws his hand back.
The inside of my throat is coated in slime, like a snail has oozed its way down while I slept. I swallow a few times to make it go away, but when I talk, my voice is thick, the words slurred. “What is it? What do you want?” I sound like I’m half asleep.
I might still be.
“Here. While you slept, I made this for you.”
At first, I don’t see anything. He inches closer, blocking the light with his body, and because of the shadows that settle between us, I really don’t see anything. I squint, waiting until my eyes get used to the dark. When they do, I see that what Maverick’s holding between his two hands is—
“A piece of rope,” I say flatly. This is what he woke me up for? “It’s a piece of rope that’s been tied into a circle with a knot.”
“Yeah, but it’s that knot that makes a world of difference.
Here, watch, kid.” Maverick drops to his knees and lets the rope fall over his head.
Tucking one arm out of the circle, he lets the other side sit on his shoulder so that it crosses his body.
“You loop it around your body, then when you get too hot for your jacket, you take it off and rest it over the rope. It’s obvious you don’t want to let it get too far.
This way you’ll never have to worry about leaving it behind or keeping one hand full while we hike in the heat. ”
Smart guy. Not only did he catch on that I have an irrational attachment to the worn leather jacket, but he figured out a way to help me with it.
I’m actually kind of impressed, and just a bit touched that he’s done this for me. It’s a peace offering if I’ve ever seen one, but it’s also more than that. This is Mav’s way of showing me that he’s accepted my company.
No more talk of “there’s still time to turn back now”. I’m here, and as long as I keep up, we’ll be taking this trip together.
Okay. I make up my mind to forgive him for screwing up last night.
For now, at least.
“That’s clever. I never would’ve come up with his,” I say honestly, probably because I feel naked without my jacket, plus I don’t like the idea of taking it off and showing the whole damn world my burn. Still, it’s the thought that counts. “Thanks.”
Not that I plan on using it. I’d rather sweat my balls off than part with Rory’s jacket when I’m not in the sanctuary of Stacey Finch’s bedroom. Taking my jacket off means severing that connection with my past—and letting my burn stand for my failures.
No, thanks.
Maverick slips the rope back over his head and holds it out to me, our hands brushing together as I take it.
I don’t mean to jolt in surprise, but his hand is cold.
Like really cold. Even colder than it was when he pressed it over my mouth to stop my screams last night.
His skin is clammy, too. A dead man’s hand—
The fire.
The flammable haze.
The spark.
The explosion.
“Hallie! Get down!”
A gasp, and then, “Xandra…”