The World Without a Future (The World Without End) (6 page)

I sit with my legs dangling out of the cave.

The sun is setting, and the cool air is seeping into me, chilling the stone under my ass. Collin is preparing canned soup for dinner, ignoring Finn.

“Get away from the ledge,” Finn orders irritably when he walks out of the back tunnel. I’m proud of myself for not flipping him off, although I’m not sure Collin is still sticking with the “be nice” routine.

When I don’t move, Finn hooks his hands under my armpits and drags me away. I shriek, flailing in his grip. He scoops me off the ground and tosses me onto the couch. I bounce up, swinging, and he ducks away, a savage grin toying with the edges of his lips.

“Want to fight, little girl?” he taunts, and I swing again. He back away, and I spin, kicking him with all the force I can put behind it. Finn grunts as my foot collides with his gut, and I drop into a crouch, my hair spilling into my eyes. His are furious—and something else. “Don’t fucking touch me, you bastard,” I snarl, and he has the gall to laugh at me.

Collin jerks him away from me. “
Finn,”
he snaps, and I see what makes my brother a Walker, the barely leashed violence that’s threatening to explode. “Cool it, man. You’re pushing me too far.”

Finn’s gaze focuses on him, slowly, then flickers to me and back again. He nods, and I turn away. Collin catches me, concern written on his face. I shrug him off. My nerves are shot, and I wish he’d let the fight happen.

Sure, Finn could wipe the floor with my ass, but at least I’d be able to get some of this aggression out. I desperately need that.

Even killing zombies would help right now.

We scatter with our soup, and I carry mine into the bedroom. Dustin’s sweating. I check his bandage—it’s tight, cutting into his skin. I swallow hard as I put my dinner aside, and then I unwrap the bandage.

The stench makes me gag, and I almost lose the little I’ve eaten. The flesh is putrid, decaying, his skin stretched and inflamed around the scratch. A line of thick pus oozes out, and I use a clean corner of his bandage to wipe it away.

“His cut—it had to come from one of the infects.”

I glance over at Finn. He stands in the doorway, staring at me. I don’t address his words—if it’s true, and it really is the only reason Dustin would have this kind of infection this quickly, there’s still a chance he’ll turn.

Unless he’s given meds, and quickly.

I clean his wound, dumping almost an entire bottle of alcohol on it. When Dustin begins to thrash, Finn pushes away from the wall and comes to hold him still. I glance at him quickly, and then away, wiping and pouring, until the bottle is empty. Finn cleans up the rags and trash as I re-wrap Dustin’s arm, and then he grabs my cold soup. I follow him out of the room.

And begin to plan my argument.

I wait until Collin is asleep before I get up from the couch and make my way to where Finn is sitting with his back propped against the cave wall, taking first watch.

Even if he claims we’re safe, in the Wide Open, there is always a watch.

“You need sleep,” he says without looking at me.

“So do you. You had watch last night.”

He finally graces me with a look, and I meet it with a cool one of my own.

“What do you want, Nurrin?”

“You’re going to Haven 18, to launch the evacuation.” He doesn’t respond, and his gaze goes back into the night. But the stillness of him tells me he’s listening. Finn O’Malley is always listening.

“Here’s the thing—you go, you leave Collin with an open infection. Dustin needs meds, you know that. And you won’t be back in time—the infection is going to spread, and eventually, he’s going to turn.”

“He’s still not showing the markers.”

“A flesh wound is still exposure. It takes longer, and we can stop it, but if we don’t do anything, it’s going to happen. And you won’t be back before then.”

His gaze swings to me. “What do you want, Nurrin?”

“Take me with you,” I say softly, and his nostrils flare, his expression tight. “Or Collin. I know you—you wouldn’t be headed to Haven 18 if you didn’t have a way out. Take Collin and let him bring back the meds.” I hesitate, and then, “
Please,
Finn.”

“That means leaving you with a live infection,” he says emotionlessly.

I shrug. “Dustin won’t hurt me. And the infection won’t take hold for at least a week. Collin will be back in plenty of time.”

He stares at me, his eyes unfathomable, and then he shakes his head, and the tension eases out of him. “Go to bed, Nurrin. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

I want to protest, but something in his gaze when I open my mouth is dangerous and forbidding. So I swallow my argument and stand up to walk away.

Before I do, I say softly, “I’ll get the meds Dustin needs. If you won’t take me or Collin, I’ll go by myself. You won’t be here to stop me. Think about that before you vanish into the Wide Open by yourself.”

Collin shakes me awake, and for a moment, half-asleep and surrounded by my brother’s voice and the scent of coffee, I can pretend I’m still in the Hive, still safe behind the walls of Hellspawn. Then Finn curses and the distinct sound of a gun being loaded fills the cave, and the illusion vanishes. I sit up and rub my eyes.

Finn spares me a glance, and I cross my arms over my thin tank top, wishing I’d had time to grab something more substantial. “Get dressed, Nurrin. We’re leaving for Haven 18 in ten minutes.”

I blink at him, and then, “But you’re taking Collin.”

Finn gives me a dark smile, and I flinch away from him. “There is no way in hell I’m leaving you alone in this cave with a live infection, Nurrin. You’d either bring a horde down the canyon, or Dustin would kill you. Neither would please me. So get your pretty ass off my couch and dressed.
Now.”

I flush, and I hate myself for it—that was his intention. To Finn O'Malley, everything is a weapon, even words and emotions. It's one of the things I admire about him, even if I do despise it.

"I don't
want
to go," I say, shrilly.

Finn laughs at that, a deep belly laugh that makes me flinch—it's coated in irony and danger. The idea of spending hours in a car with him, days at Haven 18, of being
dependent
on this man—I shudder and look at Collin, my eyes pleading. He looks away.

Disbelief slips through me. "You want me to go with him?"

Collin shrugs. "Staying here with an open infection isn't much safer. He'll protect you."

"I'll kill him," I snarl.

Finn pushes against me from the rear, and I skid forward, away from him, but he catches me by the waist, hauling me against him, and whispers his threat directly into my ear. "You can try."

His breath tickles the shell of my ear, stirs my hair, and goose bumps break out over my skin. I yank myself out of his grip and retreat to the curtained-off bedroom. I can hear Collin and Finn talking.

What the hell was that
?

For a moment, under his constant aggression, there had been something playful—almost—in Finn. And that was terrifying.

"Five minutes, Nurrin!" He yells, and I shake myself. A quick glance at Dustin confirms nothing has changed—his fever is high, and the bandage on his arm is bloody and reeks of rot.

I don't really have a choice. If I don't go, Dustin'll die. I'd endure anything to avoid that.

I strip quickly, wiggling into a pair of tight cargo pants, a simple black bra, and a tank top. I pull on one of Collin's old button down shirts, leaving it unbuttoned, then grab my boots.

In the main room, the boys are talking—Finn is giving orders, and Collin is nodding, shoving food and weapons into a bag. Finally he snaps, "I know, Finn. I've done this before. Worry about yourself and my sister."

Finn's voice lowers a little, and I pause in the act of tying my boot. I wonder if his expression softens to match. "I won't let anything happen to her, Collin. You know that."

He does? How? The friendship that I never liked, never understood, makes even less sense now that I’m spending time with them together.

"I know you'll do everything you can to keep her safe," Collin says, "but this is Ren we're talking about. She's not going to listen to you—she isn't like the other Hive girls."

"I know," Finn says, his voice full of something I don't bother to assess.

I slide my other boot on and tie it quickly, then kiss Dustin's clammy forehead. "Hang on, babe. I'll be back." Without letting myself consider if that's true or not, I exit the room.

Finn is waiting, giving me a quick look before nodding his approval. I grab the bag Collin holds out and force myself to meet his gaze.

His eyes are tight, worried, and it makes my stomach churn. He pulls me into a fierce hug, and I bury my nose in his chest, memorizing the feel of him, the smell of sweat and gun powder that surrounds my brother. "Listen to him," he murmurs in my ear, and I make a noise of protest. His grip tightens. "I mean it, Ren. He can keep you safe, but you have to trust him. You won't have anyone else out there, and I need you to survive and come back to me."

"Let's go," Finn says abruptly, and Collin releases me. I stumble and Finn catches me, reflexively.

"You have your weapons?" Collin says and, for a heartbeat, I'm back in the Hive, leaving for another day in the orchards while he passes out after walking the wall. I blink back tears and reach for my snub-nosed revolver. The knife goes into my boot, several throwing stars get tucked into my butt pocket, and I loop a shotgun over my head, to hang on my back.

Collin nods, and it's time.

The wind is whistling, and it's throwing my perception off. Finn edges up the thin path, peering over the rim of the canyon. His tense shoulders ease a fraction, and he murmurs, softly, "It's clear. Move fast—don't stop, not for anything. Get in the car and turn it on."

"But," I begin.

"No," he snaps, "you don't get to argue. Let’s get this straight right now: out here, you listen. You don't question what I say, you do it. If you can't handle that, go back to the Hole and get ready to kill your best friend."

I clench my teeth and nod shortly. Finn gives me a feral smile then peers over the edge again.

He explodes onto the surface, already shooting. I’m a half step behind him, running through the infects as Finn puts them down. The Porsche is gleaming, if a little dented. I slide into the front seat, slamming the door shut behind me and fumbling with the key. It slides in despite my shaking fingers, and I scream as something collides with the driver side of the car. An infect slides down the door as Finn shoves a knife into the base of its skull. He opens the door, and I hurl one of my throwing stars without thinking, nicking his arm before it lands in the eye of the infect behind him. He doesn’t bother looking—he slips into the car and slams his foot onto the gas before he’s even got the door shut.

“You tore my shirt,” Finn says. I’ve finally got my heart rate under control, but his voice kicks it back up.

“But I did kill the infect,” I say in my defense, and his lips twitch.