Demitria Lunetta - In the End

I turn my attention back to the Yard where so many have changed. Those still human are being slaughtered. I check my gun. My backpack lost to me, I only have the one clip with no more than thirty rounds remaining, and I shot at least three Floraes on the way to the cells. I wish I could do more. The Warden whimpers. I glance at him and consider the rifle he’s cradling. Depending on how many shots he’s taken, there could be as many as thirty more bullets, and a rifle would be more effective this high up.

I go to him and reach for the gun, but he twists away from me, clamping it to his chest.

“I need this,” he whimpers again. “For my own protection. My men are dead.”

“What men?” I ask to keep him talking while I calculate how to go about overpowering him. He’s not large, but he’s scared out of his mind, which could make him unpredictable. Especially with that rifle in his hands.

“My personal guards.”

I shake my head, unable to drum up any sympathy. He’s the one who let Hutsen-Prime experiment on his prisoners. He’s the one who continued to deal with New Hope after the Floraes appeared, selling out the people of Fort Black as lab rats. The only way he got to where he is now was by standing on the backs of the people he was meant to protect.

He’s not a threat, I say to myself. He’s a pest. I reach for the rifle and quickly pluck it from his hands.

I’m about to head back to the ledge when Ken bursts through the door armed with a rifle of his own. Looking relieved to find me there, he reaches back through the doorway and guides Brenna through it. Her eyes are open but flat, uncomprehending. Ken eases her to the ground and looks at me.

“I’m glad we found you. Jacks said you’d probably go back to your cell. When you weren’t there, I thought you got trapped in the Yard.”

“Jacks.” I look to the doorway, expecting him to step through, but it remains empty. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. . . . We got separated. I contacted New Hope, a hover-copter is on the way.”

“We can’t just leave Jacks—”

A figure fills the doorway and I wheel toward it, rifle raised, hoping it’ll be Jacks, but fearing it will be a Florae.

Instead it’s Doc who stumbles toward me, his lab coat covered in brown-red stains. He’s followed by a huge bulk of a man, his left shoulder covered in blood.

I freeze in panicked shock. “You—you’re dead,” I say, disbelieving.

“Not just yet, cupcake,” Tank growls, lurching toward me.

I raise my gun, but before I can shoot, an arm snakes around Tank’s neck and he’s jerked backward. Jacks’s face appears. Relief floods my veins but is instantly replaced with fear. All of Jacks’s focus is on Tank as he pounces on his chest. He punches Tank’s already broken nose.

“You killed her!” Jacks screams as he pummels Tank’s face. Tank reaches up and pushes Jacks off. He struggles to his feet, holding his damaged shoulder. Jacks jumps at him, but Tank uses all the strength in his good arm and connects a sweeping punch to the side of Jacks’s head. Jacks entire body recoils at the impact.

Jacks shakes his head woozily and looks as though he’s about to fall before he gets himself straight. He leaps at Tank again, and Tank tries to sidestep but is too slow. Jacks punches him in his wound, and the pain brings Tank to his knees.

“You killed her,” Jacks repeats, his voice guttural.

“Yeah, I killed her.” Tank grins, exposing his blood-soaked teeth. “And she was sweet.”

Jacks brings his knee up to Tank’s jaw, and Tank’s body falls backward. Jacks kicks Tank’s head again and again, his blood pooling beside his body.

“Jacks. Enough,” I say. Jacks looks up at me blankly, then slumps down beside Tank’s body, his head in his hands. I go to his side, but Doc holds out an arm to stop me.

“Give him a moment,” he says, his voice filled with tenderness.

My blood churns at his touch. Where was that compassion when he decided to start his experiment? Unable to control my anger, I grab his slight body and drag him to the ledge.

“Look at what you’ve done!” I scream.

“I had to!” he says, trying to push me off. “Mistakes were made, but none of them were my doing.”

Likely sensing how close he is to being thrown over the edge, he stops talking. When I don’t let him go, he starts again.

“I had no choice. They were going to replace me! Dr. Reynolds made it clear I needed this to work or I was done! Do you understand? Failure isn’t tolerated. Do you think Dr. Reynolds wouldn’t punish me through my son? If I am not successful here, the only place for me in New Hope would be in the Ward ! And my son would be there too. Do you want that for Jacks?”

He twitches his head down toward the madness in the yard with disgust, as though he weren’t responsible for it. “Time was running out. They were coming for me in the morning! Brenna would redeem me. Brenna had to be the answer.”

It feels good to tighten my grip on his arm, to drive my fingers through his flesh to the bone beneath and feel him squirm. The man was going down and didn’t care who he took with him, didn’t care who he killed. He’s whimpering in pain, and I notice for the first time the trail of red we’ve left across the roof.

I drop his arm and back away. He isn’t covered in his victims’ blood. He’s covered in his own.

“You were bitten.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve taken the vaccine.”

“Look around you,” I tell him, stunned by his self-delusion. “The vaccine doesn’t work .” I hear a hollow thud behind me, a sound I’ve learned to recognize as an otherwise completely silent hover-copter landing.

“Are you coming?” Ken shouts.

Doc moves to go around me, but I shake my head and step in front of him, raising the rifle.

Ken appears at my side. “We’ve got to go now. Doc can come if he wants. We’ll let New Hope sort it out.” As fitting a punishment as being committed to the Ward would be for him, I can’t let Doc come with us. “He’s been bitten,” I tell Ken.

“Leave him then,” he says simply. “Let’s go.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and nudges me toward the hover-copter.

“I can’t go without Jacks,” I say, continuing to stare at where Doc stands by the ledge, still believing he has done something good. I run to Jacks’s side. He looks up at me. “We’ve got to go. Now, Jacks.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t leave here.”

“You have to. It’s not safe,” I plead.

“It’s not safe anywhere.” His eyes have begun to clear. “You’re going back to that place, where they have your sister? Where they tortured you? No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t come with you.”

“But Fort Black is dying,” I tell him. “It’s infested with Floraes.”

“My father . . .”

“He’s been bitten. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not leaving him here alone. And my uncle? They’re the only family I have.”

I don’t know how I can make him understand. He refuses to budge. He’s in shock.

I take his hand. “Jacks . . . your father is infected.”

Jacks looks to where his father stands by the wall. He walks slowly over to his father, with me in tow.

“Dad?”

Doc looks at his son. “I . . . I’m sorry. For everything. For the years I wasn’t with you and Layla, for what I did to your mother, for all of this.”

Jacks nods. “I forgive you.” He drops my hand and reaches to my other hand, taking the gun.

Doc eyes the rifle. “What happened to Layla was never your fault. You did more for that girl than I ever did. You were a better role model, a better provider. It wasn’t your fault, son.”