The Awakened (22 page)

I shook my head. “No. No, you are not talking like that. I refuse to let you talk like that.” I ran the stream of water over her body, and the water started running pink, and I felt a brief sense of relief. The bleeding had slowed, and I cleaned the wounds as best as I could, feeling helpless. I could fight. I could pack a punch, and I had a stupid blue belt in taekwondo, but I couldn’t fix this. I didn’t know how to fix this. She just wouldn’t stop bleeding. She needed a hospital, but I don’t think those existed anymore.

“I love you,” she repeated, her eyes falling closed again. I held my breath for a moment, my hands frozen, until I saw the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, for now. I stood up and walked out of the bathroom. Ash followed me, looking at me in concern.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted.

“I don’t think she’s going to be okay, Z,” Ash said, softly.

I nodded. She wasn’t going to be okay. I wanted her to be okay, but I had learned in the past few months that wanting something meant nothing; even need was a silly thing to contemplate. The only thing that worked was what you got.  “We should get rid of the bodies.”

“The bodies?” he asked.

I nodded toward the front door. “The bodies of the Awakened. There are quite a bit out there, and we should get rid of them.”

“Burn them? Bury them?” he asked. He looked disheveled, defeated and torn. There was blood and dirt streaked across his entire body, his jeans slung low on his hips, and I had never seen him look more beautiful in all the years I had known him. I wanted to run to him, to pull him to me and never let him go, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even feel.

I sighed, wiping a hand across my forehead. I was covered in blood, and I was sure I had just gotten blood all over my face now too. “We should bury them.”

He nodded, disappearing into the kitchen for a moment and reappearing with both of our shirts. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago, Ash and I had been tearing each other’s clothes off on my mother’s kitchen counter.

I took my shirt back, pulling it over my head. I was shivering like crazy, but I didn’t think it was because I was cold. “There are shovels in the barn. Let’s go.”

SHE DIED TWO DAYS LATER
. I changed the bandages. I washed her. I gave her antibiotics that I found in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. I took care of her the best that I could to the best of my limited knowledge. I wrapped her in a ton of gauze and prayed and prayed and prayed, but she died.

My mother was dead.

I could barely look at the body that was lying in front of me. We had moved her upstairs, to her bedroom. She had been in and out of consciousness, mumbling nonsense or calling out for Caspar. She wasn’t herself anymore. She was sick. Her skin had burned hot with fever. She died in her sleep, free of the pain that had ben plaguing her for days.

Ash and I were both orphans now.

“Zoey…”

I shook my head, refusing to look at him. It couldn’t be happening. Not another person. Not now. Not ever. I felt the emotions boiling up in my stomach, up my throat, threatening to burst out. It was taking everything I had not to lose it. I had to keep myself sane; I had to keep myself calm. I had to survive, and I couldn’t lose my grip.

“Zoey?”

Ash was standing behind me, looking down at my mother’s body with a deep sadness on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for me.

I ducked out of the way, heading downstairs and into the kitchen. “We need to go. This area isn’t safe anymore. We need to pack up and head out of here, make a plan,” I said.

“Zoey, no. There’s time for that. We’re safe for now. We need to bury your mom.”

I swallowed hard. “No, I just…I want to leave. We need to go.”

He crossed the room, coming to stand in front of me. I took a step back, overwhelmed by the heat radiating off of him. I kept shivering. “We are safe. I promise. You need to mourn your mom, Z. You need to give her what we couldn’t give your dad.”

“I don’t want to bury my mom,” I said through clenched teeth, my fingers lost in my hair. The bubbles were bursting in my throat, and I was about to spill over. “I don’t want to mourn her. I don’t want to care anymore. I just want to die.”

Ash’s face paled for a moment, but he didn’t react to me. “No,” he said, firmly. “You aren’t going to die. I’m not going to let you die. Your parents would want you to live. They would want you to keep fighting. You’ve been so brave and so strong, and you have to keep fighting. It’s what they would want.”

“They would want to be here with me, Ash. They would want to be alive,” I said, my voice raising.

“Of course they would!” he said, his voice remaining calm. I wanted to tear at him. I wanted to break the smooth look on his face. How could he feel that way? How could he not be bursting and ripping apart at the seams? “But they can’t. They can’t be here, Zoey, and I’m here. And we are going to do this, okay?”

“I don’t want to!” I screamed, reaching for the nearest thing to me. My hands found the salt and pepper shakers on the table. I threw them at the wall, sending salt and pepper scattering across the tile floor. I started grabbing things off the shelves and counters and throwing them, tossing them to the ground, feeling a sort of relief when they hit the ground or the wall. “I don’t want to. I’m tired, and I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to do it anymore. Don’t make me!”

Ash had backed up, out of the zone of fire, but he made no move to stop me. His eyes were wide as he watched me throw the coffee pot across the room, landing with a tinkling crash against the door.

I looked around me at the disaster I had created and felt the breaths coming in and out quickly. I searched for something else to throw, but what else was there? I sunk to the floor, bits of glass and other things biting through the worn fabric of my jeans. I cradled my head in my hands and rocked back and forth.

Rough but gentle hands reached for me, pulling me up. I didn’t hesitate, my arms going around his neck. He pulled me tighter against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. “I know, baby. I know.” His words were watery, and I swallowed my tears back down again. A dry sob escaped my throat as I pressed my face into his neck. “Shhh, I know.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore. I can’t…I can’t do it anymore. Everyone is gone, and I can’t do this anymore. Ash, I just don’t think I can do this anymore.” I felt the last bit of energy drip out of me, and I knew that, if he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have fallen down.

“You can,” he said, pressing me tighter to him. “I know you can.”

“I’m just so tired. I’m so tired, Ash,” I said, my arm losing their grip around his neck. My eyes were beginning to close. I was exhausted, worn out. “I can’t hold on anymore.” I didn’t know if I meant I couldn’t hold on to myself anymore or if I couldn’t hold onto him. Maybe both.

“It’s okay; I got you,” he said. I vaguely registered him scooping me up in his arms before I lost all consciousness.

I blinked once, twice, three times before opening my eyes fully. Sunlight was streaming through the thin white curtains that bordered the window by my bed. I was confused for a moment, the sunlight hitting my cheeks and warming them. I sat up slowly, hearing deep breaths and peered over the edge of my bed. Ash was curled on the trundle bed, asleep, his hair falling over his eyes. Flashes of memory hit me: Ash catching me as I fell, carrying me up the stairs to the bed and nightmares. More nightmares than I could possibly remember. I shuddered, rubbing my arms.

Ash shifted. His eyes opened, and they met mine. He smiled slightly and sat up. “You’re awake.”

“How long was I out?” my voice was rough from disuse.

“A couple days,” he said, yawning, running a hand through his hair. He was in desperate need of a haircut, but I kind of liked his hair like this. It made him look rough, like a fighter.

“A couple days!” I sat up straighter, flinging the covers off of me. “Where is…where is…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. My mother? The body? Neither felt right.

“I buried her, in the backyard, near the garden,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. “I hope that’s okay. I just thought she…she would like it there.”

I nodded. I felt the sensation, the urge to cry, but I had no tears left. I was out. “She would. She loved that garden.”

“Are you still intent on leaving?” he asked, getting out of his own blankets and standing up.

I thought about it for a moment. I thought of surviving her on the farm, with my mom’s body in the backyard. We could do it. We had the garden, the barn. We had access to food. But the Awakened had caught up to us here, and I didn’t know if we were safe anymore. “Yes. Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” he said firmly. “We’ll go.” I felt relief go through me and wondered how this had happened. How did I end up with the boy I had loved for most of my life?

His eyes met mine and I felt a wave of love pass through me. I didn’t know if he felt the same way or if it was just a passing attraction because I was the last girl available on earth. But I loved him. I wanted him safe.

He said softly, “Z, I’ll get our things ready to go.” He paused. “You should say goodbye to your mom.” He smiled again and headed out of the room.

I glanced out the window, seeing the fresh mound of dirt that was just outside the garden, and swallowed hard. As if they had a mind of their own, my feet started moving, out of the room, down the stairs. I paused at the kitchen, noticing that the mess I had made was gone. I felt another wave of affection for Ash and continued out into the garden.

Her grave was simple, no marker, and perhaps, as time went on, something would grow on top of it, but it was something. It was much more than I had been able to give my father. Ash had done the best he could for her. I sunk to my knees, feeling the soft, cool dirt through my jeans.

I had a chance here, a chance I hadn’t had before. I had a chance to really say good-bye to one parent where I had not had the chance before. But what could I say? What could I say to a mother that I spent so much of my life resenting and was only beginning to know?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the dirt in front of me. “I’m sorry that we didn’t have more time. I’m sorry that I could not protect you. I wanted so badly to protect you. We were just beginning to know each other again and…and…” I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I love you, Mom. I love you so much. Say hi to Dad for me, okay? Tell him he owes me some pizza.”

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there. It could have been five minutes, or it could have been five hours. I just sat there, staring at the grave in front of me, wondering how it was possible that I was now an orphan.

Ash came out, dressed in a dark blue hoodie and jeans with a pair of Caspar’s boots laced tight on his feet. He had a backpack hoisted on one shoulder and his gun strapped to his waist. He was carrying a second backpack in his hands. “I have your stuff. I was sure you would want to change though.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my sweatpants. I didn’t remember putting these on. I raised my eyebrow at Ash. “Did you change me?”

Ash raised his own eyebrows in response as we made our way back to the house. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I shook my head, a small smile at the corner of my lips. We made our way back into my room. I started pulling clothes out of the drawers, reaching for the hem of my shirt. “Turn around,” I told him.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said, a small smirk on his face.

It felt wrong to smile, so incredibly wrong, but sometimes I couldn’t help but smile around him. He made me smile. “Turn around, Ash,” I repeated.

I reached for the hem of my shirt and tossed it across the room. I pulled a white t-shirt out of the pile and wrinkled my nose. It would be dirty in a day. I settled on an olive green shirt instead and yanked it over my head. I grabbed a sturdy pair of dark jeans and slipped them on. I looked around for my boots and found them under the bed. My hair was a tangled mess and I dragged a hairbrush through it before pulling it into my standard ponytail. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like Katniss for a moment.

Ash came over to sit on the bed, setting my backpack aside. “Where do you want to go?”

I bit my lip, hesitating before turning around to face him. “I was thinking…I was thinking Sanctuary.”

He looked at me for a moment before a smile spread across his lips. “You’re joking, right?” I didn’t answer. “Z, we don’t even know if that’s real.”

I sighed, sitting on the bed next to him. “I know. God, I know. But how can so many believe in this if it didn’t have even an ounce of truth to it?”

“Z,” he said, sounding a little frustrated. “Tons of people think Area 51 is real, right?”

“We don’t know that it
isn’t
real,” I said weakly.

He sighed, his arm coming out to snag me around the waist. I squeaked but didn’t protest. “I just…I don’t know about this. We’re going off what we heard from Memphis, Julia and Liam.” He said Liam like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You just don’t like Liam,” I said, looking up at him.

He avoided my eye contact. “I don’t like anyone who flirts with a girl just days after his fiancé died from a nuclear bomb. And who thinks that this magical place exists.”

“I’m not saying a magical place exists, Ash,” I said, impatient. I brought my knees up to my chest. “But what if a bunch of people are there? What if people went to Colorado to find this place and stayed? What if there’s…something safe out there? It may not be Sanctuary, but it’s something.”

He looked down at me, his blue eyes bright, and ran a hand over my head, his fingers brushing the strands of my ponytail. “You really want to go?” he asked.

I nodded. “I just think…where else do we have to go? What else can we possibly lose? We should try.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I asked.

He smiled, his lips pressing against my forehead. I felt a shock go through me, and I bit my lip. I was having a hard time adjusting to this new Ash. “Yeah, okay. We’ll go.”

I nodded, leaning into him.

We stayed like this, comfortable in our close proximity for a few moments longer before we both sat up and made our way downstairs. I glanced out the window and thought of something. “Hey, Ash?”

“Yeah?” he said, peeking out of the kitchen.

“We should take the jeep,” I said. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I walked into the kitchen with him, grabbing the keys off the hook where they had hung for months. I rifled through the junk drawers, looking for the maps my mom kept in there. I found one and took it to the dining room table, unfolding it, tracing the route from Constance to Mesa Verde. “It would take us about 12, maybe 13 hours. Walking…it would take a week, probably more.”