Demitria Lunetta - In the End

“Amy,” my mother begins, “I don’t know if we can accommodate—”

“We can make room,” Rice says.

My mother’s shaking her head. “But all at once? And who knows what kind of people they are. And the diseases—we’ll have to test each one to make sure they’re healthy. I don’t know if this is the right time.”

Brenna has turned on my mother, her expression darkening. “Whoa, whoa, whoa: ‘Who knows what kind of people they are’? What kind of people are you , lady?”

“Mom,” I say, stepping between them. But I feel as angry as Brenna sounds. “Are you hearing yourself? What, you’re worried they won’t live up to New Hope’s standards?” I give my head a sharp shake. “Yes, there are hard cases in Fort Black. Criminals, when it comes down to it. That useless vaccine that Doc was distributing didn’t help either; it made people more violent. But if they don’t have to fight to survive, they may not want to fight at all. If there are troublemakers, we can ID them, work with them. Jacks can help us with that. But I can tell you, there are a lot of good people in Fort Black. Maybe they’re hardened, but they had to be to survive.”

“I have to think about what’s right for New Hope,” she says, but softly, as if she’s talking to herself. I can see she’s hearing me, at least. Thinking.

“Of course you do,” Rice says quietly. “But we can agree that New Hope needs to change, can’t we?” When my mother nods, he says, “I think we need to open up to people, starting tonight. Now. Starting with this question, about bringing the Fort Black people in, helping them. Give people the whole picture, tell them what we think is the right thing to do.” He shrugs. “I think we can trust them to want to do it.”

“That’s asking a lot of them, isn’t it?”

She’s been insulated in her lab for so long, she has no idea what regular people are like, how they feel, what they’re capable of. I have to make her understand.

“Mom,” I say, “believe me, the people in Fort Black have dealt with a lot worse. And they still are. There are sick, frightened people there. We can’t turn our backs on them.”

For a long moment, my mother and I look at each other, into each other. And then she nods, just perceptibly. “We can downsize the Ward,” she says, “move people who need medical attention there. Start with them.” She nods again. “We can make this work.”

“The Guardians can run supplies out to Fort Black,” Kay says. “Any medical staff who wants to treat them. Then we can start shuttling people here.”

“How does that sound?” I ask Jacks. “Do you think people would want to come here? Do you want to come here?”

“I don’t know, Amy. . . . I haven’t left Fort Black in a long time. I . . . don’t know if I can.”

“Even to be with me?” I ask, uncertain. Rice gives me a sharp look, but I don’t care anymore who else hears. “I have to take care of my sister. You know that. But I want to be with you. If you want to be with me, it has to be here,” I tell Jacks.

There is a long pause. Then, quietly, Jacks replies, “Okay. I’ll come. But what about everyone else in Fort Black? What if they don’t want to move?”

“We won’t make them leave, but it’s safer here.” I look at my mother. “Or it will be. Won’t it?”

“We’re going to try.”

“No.” Rice stands, still a little shaky from his wound. “We’re going to do more than try.”

“Jacks,” I say, “we’re sending some supplies for now. My mother’s going to be talking to the citizens here, and we’re going to figure out how to fit you all in. Let everyone know they’re welcome here. Let them know they’ll be safe.”

“All right, Amy,” Jacks says. “Thanks. I . . . I can’t wait to see you.”

There’s a silence in the room. Rice gives me another look, and I feel my face go hot.

“I . . . can’t wait to see you too, Jacks. I’ll check in with you soon.”

We click off. I still ignore Rice’s questioning gaze. Rice has done so much for me. He was the first boy I ever had feelings for, but he was too consumed by his work. Like my mother, he had all of humanity to worry about. How could I compete with that? Jacks was different. He understood what was important. He understood I needed to protect Baby at any cost.

I kneel next to Baby. “You may not know what’s happened to you, or why,” I say to her, “but I promise that you’re going to get better.”

When I squeeze her hand, it twitches in mine—and then her fingers begin to work into my palm.

Thank you, Amy, she signs.

I look into her eyes and see a spark of comprehension. You know who I am? I ask, signing into her hand.

She nods slowly. “You’re my sister,” she says aloud, her voice uncertain. I’m still not used to hearing her speak, having spent so much of our time together in silence.

“Yes,” I say firmly. “We’re sisters.”

She smiles her sad little smile, her face looking much older than her six years.

“Amy”—my mother puts her hand on my shoulder—“let’s go home.”

I gather Baby in my arms and walk her out the door and down the hall.

Finally, going home.

I’d like to thank so many people for making In the End possible. Karen Chaplin is the best editor anyone could hope for. Thank you, Karen, for always making me dig deeper and for your much needed guidance and encouragement.

I’d also like to thank everyone at Harper Teen who made In the End possible, including my amazing editorial director, Rosemary Brosnan, and my fantastic production editor, Jon Howard. In addition, I’d like to thank my marketing director, Kimberly VandeWater, and my publicist, Olivia deLeon, and everyone else at Harper Teen whose tireless efforts have made In the End what it is today. I’m so lucky to have such an amazing team, I couldn’t have written this book without them. And thank you to David Downing and Katie Crouch for additional editorial advice.

Thank you to everyone who picked up In the After and took a chance on a debut author, and who wanted to follow Amy as she concluded her journey in In the End . I am so grateful to all of my readers.

Thank you to my husband, whose time serving in Iraq gave him a base of knowledge to answer all of my weapons/combat questions. I couldn’t have written this book without his unwavering support and his uncanny knack for bringing me coffee exactly when I needed it the most.

And last but not least, thank you to my super agent, Katherine Boyle. She is, simply, made of awesome.