Chapter 58
Dr. Chamberlain rushed into the room, eyed the flatlined vitals, and moved to Kate’s side.
“No. No, fucking do something!” Nick screamed. The doctor pressed two fingers to Kate’s neck and shook his head to indicate there was no life rushing through her veins. Nick’s hands shot up to his head, clutching his hair in distress.
The doctor positioned his hands over Kate’s chest and began compressions. Kate’s body jolted with each thrust. After a minute had passed, Chamberlain tilted Kate’s chin back and breathed into her mouth. He returned his hands to her torso to continue the lifesaving efforts.
“Baby, please! Do not fucking leave me!” Nick paced back and forth, his eyes darting around the room as if the key to Kate’s survival lay on a counter somewhere.
Nick’s eyes landed on the needles and tubing the doctor had brought in for the transfusion.
He swiped the supplies and stood beside Kate’s bed.
“What are you doing?” the doctor demanded in between chest compressions. Nick poked one of the needles through Kate’s skin in the crease of her elbow. “Nick, stop.”
Nick held the tubing and jammed the needle on the opposite side into his own vein. Blood trickled through the tubing at a slow pace, descending the sterile plastic toward Kate’s arm.
“You don’t even know if your blood is compatible!” Dr. Chamberlain shouted before performing another rescue breath. Nick ignored him, tightening his arm so that the blood flowed faster.
“I can’t just do nothing.” Nick’s voice cracked, and his cheeks were soaked with tears.
Another round of CPR produced no results, and the doctor stood up straight. He shook his head.
“Nick, she’s gone.”
“No, no, she’s not. I can do this. I can fucking save her!”
Kate lay lifeless on the bed. The blood Nick forced into her veins leaked from her arm, trickling onto the sheets beneath her. The doctor pulled the needle from Kate’s elbow. Nick glared at him, his lips curling into a vicious snarl.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick ripped the needle from his arm and threw it to the ground.
He stalked toward Dr. Chamberlain until his hands were wrapped around his neck.
Nick shoved him against the wall, his eyes piercing the doctor with sorrowful rage.
“Do something! Fucking save her! Please.”
Dr. Chamberlain met his gaze with pity. “Nick, I have done everything I can do. Kate is gone, and I am so sorry.”
Nick’s face tightened, and tears spilled over his eyelids. He released the doctor and stepped backward with his head in his hands.
“Go,” Nick ordered. The doctor stood in place, assessing Nick.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Dr. Chamberlain scurried away from the wall and left the room.
Nick took blankets from a shelf nearby and laid them out on the floor.
After relinquishing Kate of the devices measuring the functionality of her body, Nick laid her down on the blankets covering the floor.
Nick lay beside her, gripping her hand in his. His chest quaked with shuddering breaths. A fullness in his chest threatened to rip him open from the inside as the weight of his heartbreak bore down on him. Thick droplets of tears clung to his eyelashes.
“Kate,” Nick whispered. Saliva pooled in his mouth, making his words sticky. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t fucking leave me here.”
Visions flashed before him—Kate in all of her magnificent forms. The first time he saw her laugh was when they sat down for their first meal together.
Her fear and reservations had seeped from her.
Nick grasped at anything to ease the tension.
He had made a stupid joke about hurting himself with the can opener, forcing a genuine giggle from her lips. It became his favorite sound.
When they came upon the undead child in the abandoned building, Kate thought she could save her.
The little girl came at Kate, horrendous and fierce.
After Nick ended the tiny Infected’s life, he held Kate as she drowned in sorrow.
It was the first time Nick had felt her body melt into his; it fit perfectly.
As guests at the junkyard, Nick and Kate had pretended to be a couple. He remembered the surprise when Kate took his hand in hers, warmth spreading across his fingers, his heart. Her touch smeared the lines where playing a role met unwavering connection.
Nick reveled in the remembrance of their first kiss, sitting in the basement theatre while a metal song blasted through the speakers.
The music had doused everything in gasoline, and their bodies ignited into flames.
Oh God, it had felt so good. He would have given anything to go back and feel the burn of her lips on his.
Resting his head against Kate’s, Nick sobbed against her cheek.
“Kate, I don’t know if you can hear me. Probably not.
But I need you to know that I love you so much.
When you met me, I was broken. And what we went through, it broke me even more.
When you were locked up in that place, I thought I was going to lose my mind.
I got Phoenix killed. I lost Ryan. I was going to tell you.
I swear I was going to tell you every terrible thing I did. I almost lost my fucking mind.”
Nick kissed Kate’s cheek and pulled away, sniffling. He traced the outline of her face with his eyes, committing every detail to his memory.
“But you.” He let out a small laugh that drew tears to the surface of his eyes. “You lit up my whole fucking world. All I had to do was focus on you, and every dark thing fell away. You’re so fucking beautiful. God, I need you here.”
Nick wiped tears away from his face as the ache in his soul consumed him.
His entire body throbbed with emotional and physical pain.
He brushed a piece of hair behind Kate’s ear and stroked the side of her face.
Her skin was warm, as though there should be blood coursing through the veins, a beating heart beneath her chest. Knowing the organs were dormant and the soul had departed drove a dagger into Nick. Kate was gone.
Nick’s eyes sagged with the weariness of crying.
He felt dried up and empty, unable to offer any more outpouring of sadness.
Nestling into her body, Nick wrapped an arm around her waist and closed his eyes.
He inhaled the last opportunity to be one with her.
When he breathed out, a cold peace settled over him.
“I’ll follow you there.”
In a dead, robotic movement, he pulled the pistol from his waistband.
Nick bit down on the barrel, the cold metal pressing into the roof of his mouth.
One finger curled around the trigger. He should have done this years ago.
When he was lying on the bathroom floor soaking the tiles with tears, he could have saved himself from this pain.
Kate would have found herself in that farmhouse alone. No one to save her. No one to slit the throat of her monster. All because Nick could not bear the weight of living.
Nothing but a coward.
A war raged in his mind as he inched the trigger inward and released it, over and over.
No, Nick was ready. He sat up on his knees and pushed the barrel of the firearm into the soft tissue of his mouth until the pressure burst into pain.
He longed to be with Kate, wherever she was.
She was his salvation. There would be no more second chances—no one else to resurrect him.
As Nick squeezed the trigger closer than before, a scream erupted from his lungs. It was primal, a requiem with notes of raw sorrow. Desperate visions took over: Kate running to him through an ethereal fog, catching her in his arms, and holding her forever.
Then, a dark thought slithered in. What if he pulled the trigger, his world went black, and she was nowhere to be found? Everything would be for naught. Nick hated that her spirit resided in him, still. He wanted it to be easy. He wanted to hate himself and his pain enough to stifle them for good.
What kind of life are we living if we only care for ourselves?
Kate’s words echoed in Nick’s head. He did not want to live for anyone else. Just her. Only her.
His voice waned, and the pistol fell from his hands. He dropped to the ground beside Kate and released a new barrage of sobs. His lungs constricted as he gasped for air, choking between cries. Focusing on steady breaths, Nick wiped tears away from his face and nodded.
“Fine,” he whispered, followed by a strained laugh. “You win. You always do.”
Nick kissed her forehead and rose, tucking the gun into his waistband.
Concrete despair sank into his limbs. To collapse beside Kate and wither away was but a misstep away.
Instead, Nick gave Kate a final glance. He burned the vision of her into his mind until it was a lens he would see through for eternity.
He pushed through the door and entered the gear room. He packed ammo into magazines and shoved them into the webbing of his vest.
“Nick?” Dr. Chamberlain called from the other room. The voice did not penetrate Nick's thoughts. Just as the doctor appeared in the doorway, Nick pushed past him, called for Loko, and forged on down the hallway. The dog eagerly followed in his wake.
Once at the vehicle, Nick pulled the helmet over his face. He clutched the rifle in his hands, giving it a thoughtful glance as he stood looking like a warehouse guard once more. Except now, there was no light at the end. There was no purpose and no hope.
With Loko following close behind, Nick walked until the city was distant and trees hovered over him.
He walked until he could not tell where he had come from or where he was headed.
While the forest was quiet, the wind whispered songs to him.
Harsh, dainty notes of heartbreak swirled around until he fell to his knees and clenched the dirt in his hands.
Fort Vanguard was now in possession of the cure, able to reverse the disease.
Avery had been rescued from being sold as a slave and was safe within the walls of a secure, thriving refuge.
Tatum had someone to look after her and a new place to call home while she battled the events that would plague her for years.
And Nick. He had his heart carved out of him, his soul ripped to pieces, and lying on a cold hospital floor.
Hatred coiled around his heart and squeezed.
Nick screamed into the forest floor. Loko lay beside him, sniffing at his arm.
Nick wanted to hate the dog, too, except it was all he had left.
The gray, starved animal was the only piece of Kate he could reach out and touch.
A weak hand stroked the dog’s fur between gasping sobs.
Nick lay prone on the ground until evening shrouded the woods.
When he stood, he felt resolute. Sturdy with rage and transformed by pain.
For once, Nick had no plan in motion and no destination in mind.
As Nick walked, the pieces of who he was peeled away.
He was a ghost of the forgotten. A man who had lost his name.
Not even the leaves on a windy day repeated tales of his glory. The forest stood tall—a silent spectator of someone who was once a powerful man, a fierce protector, and a relentless lover—and watched him disintegrate until he was nothing more than shades of love lost in the void.