The Horde Without End (The World Without End) (9 page)

Moving is the safest way to be, in the Wide Open.

“What will we face in 6?” I ask.

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

“So we won’t be trusting your name to open doors?” I ask, flipping a page. I’m almost through with my little book, and feel like I’m no closer to knowing anything.

Certainly this book has nothing about the Thrasher and why she was so important in the East. The account I’m reading now is from a sailor on one of the last boats to make dock in New York before ERI-Milan mutated in Atlanta.

Finn ignores my question. Typical.

“Where are you from?” I ask abruptly. “Originally?”

Finn shoots me a startled look. “That is your burning question? Where I was born? What the hell does it matter? I’m here now. I’ve been here for over twenty years.”

“One question,” I grit. His eyebrows arch, and I shake my head. “I’m not pushing about Kelsey or Omar, or why the fuck every haven seems to know your name—all important things, by the way. I’m not demanding to know what’s so important about Collin that you will do all of this to find him. I’m asking where you were born.”

I stand and start to the back of the RV, unable to stomach him anymore. I pause. “You demand a lot of trust from me. A lot of tolerance for a ton of bullshit. You can’t expect me to trust you without reservation if you won’t give a little.”

It’s late that night—he let me sleep longer than I thought he would, maybe because I yelled at him. Although that’s not typical behavior for Finn.

The ZTNK rumbles to a stop, and he calls back to me. “We’re here.”

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling for a long minute, trying to shake the fog of sleep, and process that we’ve arrived. The air is drifting in from Finn’s open window, and it tastes wilder—bigger—than anything I’ve ever known. Distantly, I can hear a dull roar.

I roll from the bed and twist my shirt straight, then shamble up to the front and drop into the seat next to him.

He glances at me then back at the Haven. “We’re just ourselves here. If Ansliey got in touch with them, it’s too late to lie.”

“But you won’t be able help us by flaunting your name.”

“Not here. But that was true of 9 as well,” he reminds me. “And we still did fine.”

I don’t take the bait. Too much about Finn is pushing me too far. I need space from him, time to think. I need my brother, to remind me why I trust this enigmatic man.

Neither are options right now.

We roll up to the gate, and I stare at the wide white walls, reminding myself that Collin is why I’m doing this—any of it.

“Do you think he’s still here?” I murmur.

Finn sighs. “I really hope so. But if he’s not, we’ll keep going. You know that, right?”

I bite my lip, and he reaches over.

His fingers are hot on my chin as he twists me to look at him, but gentle—softer than I expect from him. “We
will
keep going. Until we find him.”

I stare into his eyes for a long heartbeat, longer than is really comfortable, and even though I don’t have any reason to, I trust him.

Maybe Finn doesn’t answer questions, but he doesn’t lie either. It’s an annoying trade off, but I’ll take it.

The gate clatters open, and two Wall Walkers jog out, one assuming a defensive position while the other taps on Finn’s window. He rolls it down and slips out our IDs.

The Walker frowns at them then glances up quickly, handing one card over his shoulder to his partner. The man glances at it and wordlessly retreats back to the gate.

“I thought you said you weren’t known here?” I murmur.

Finn is frowning, watching the two Walkers. He doesn’t respond to my comment. A few more Walkers clatter out of the gatehouse, slipping into the Wide Open, and neither of us misses the fact that they are heavily armed.

What the fuck is happening?

“You don’t know me. Understand? You found me on the roadside, and we traveled together for a few days, but you don’t have any past history with me and you have no idea who I am. Do you understand?” he says, voice low and urgent.

“No,” I whisper, because I don’t understand. And because I know one thing—Finn is the best chance I have of finding Collin.

His gaze flashes to mine, and I tilt my chin up, a silent challenge. “This is not a good time to decide to trust me, Nurrin,” he growls, frustrated.

“I don’t,” I say. “But I need you.”

I glance out the window instead of watching his reaction. The Walkers have circled the front of the truck, and they’re all armed—with those guns pointed at us.

“Finn,” I say, staring.

He curses, low and vicious, and leans across the bag of guns between us to murmur. “Take the wheel. Try not to be combative—I have no idea what’s going on, but let’s try not to get shot today. Okay?”

Without thinking, I reach for his hand. His grip on my fingers is tight, strong—it steadies me. He pushes the door open and releases me, sliding out while I wiggle into the driver’s seat.

I can see the glances the Walkers are sliding toward me, but Finn is blocking me with his body. His tone is furious.

“Do you greet all visitors like this?”

“You’ll need to be tested,” the Walker says without answering his question. If he thinks that will put Finn off his stride, he knows nothing, no matter what he thinks.

Finn waits patiently as a medic scurries out, fixing him with a fierce glare before focusing on the needle stick. When she’s done, she flicks her eyes to me. I can feel Finn’s tension shoot up, even without him touching me, and I force an easy smile.

Clean tests are no one’s idea of a good time, but I am clean, so it’s nothing to be worried about. I extend my arm, and she jabs it, a little harder than necessary. I hiss a breath. Finn shifts. “Be careful.”

The medic snorts. “I don’t take orders from you, O’Malley. I never have.”

Finn jerks back, and I shoot him a confused look.

For the first time, he looks just as lost as I am. And I realize something.

I trust him. I don’t know what he hides or what will happen next. I don’t know from one minute to the next how we’ll get out of whatever mess we’ve found ourselves in. And I deal with that not knowing because I trust that
he
does. It’s flawed, imperfect, and frustrating. But it works for us, and I am comfortable there.

This—this
not knowing
, with both of us lost, isn’t a place I like to be. I didn’t realize until it was jeopardized just how much I trust Finn’s odd brand of handling things.

The medic straightens, handing me a swab of cotton to clean my arm. She gives me a look of loathing and stalks away. “She’s clean. They both are. Strip him of his weapons.”

Finn jerks, the crossbow coming up and leveling at the medic. “You might rethink that, sweetheart.”

The medic laughs, a twisted noise. She hates him. I don’t know why, but I know, deep down in my gut, that it’s true. I twist to look at Finn, who still has her pinned with the crossbow.

He meets my gaze, and I can see what he wants—me to leave. Cut my losses and get the fuck out.

Idiot.

He’s going to
hate
this.

I toss my knives out the window and watch them embed at Finn’s feet. His gaze goes furious—so angry it makes me shiver. Even when I did something stupid and risked my life for his in 8, he has never looked at me with this much anger.

The medic smirks, turns to look at me, and says softly, “The rest.”

“This gun is special,” I tell her, ignoring Finn completely now. “You damage it at all, O’Malley will be the least of your concerns. Do you get me?”

“You aren’t in the position to make demands. Sanders.”

She nods abruptly, and the Walkers shift to point their guns at me. A gleeful smile twists her lips up, and I shake my head, leaning back to stare at her. “You aren’t smart, are you?”

Anger colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t lose her temper. Instead she cocks her head to the side and grins. “Take them. Both of them. I’ll gather the panel.”

She turns away without waiting to see if they will listen, trusting that her word will carry. Bitch. Finn steps into her space as she moves to skirt past him, and he murmurs, “If anything happens to her, I will bring down everything I have on you. Not this Haven. Not the Walkers—you. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Her gaze flicks to me, steely, then back to Finn. “I think the whole world knows what that means, O’Malley.” She shakes off his grip and stalks away. The Walkers close in around us, and I move closer to Finn. He glares over at me. I shrug lightly.

“Let’s go,” one of the Walkers barks, and just like that, we’re taken into custody.

Some things were irreparably changed after the zombies rose. A lot of things, if we’re honest. Emilie is a name more known than some presidents, and—in some minds—as infamous as Hitler. The way of life, travel, education, our everyday sense of security—all of that vanished when Emilie died.

We didn’t even realize it was over, not then. Not when the president deployed a thousand soldiers against the mob in Atlanta.

And the worst part is, that wasn’t the end. That wasn’t the beginning. Both moments in time were occupied by the same thing: the moment that ERI was commissioned and accepted for use. The first time a brilliant mind—and it was; only a very brilliant mind could conceive of a way to suppress emotions and pass it off as a good thing—happened along the idea and went to the lab to execute it.

Synthrix did one thing that for years was lauded as a life saver. A life changer.

They were right. It changed everything. And scientist have been working ever since to undo that damage.

We’re put in Containment. 6 was a prison before it was converted to a Haven, and even though it’s been expanded to a sprawling Haven with miles of Walls, at its heart, it’s still a prison with a prison mentality.

They march us into a tiny cell, and when they try to separate us, Finn goes icy and still, a hairsbreadth from danger. I clear my throat. “You are detaining two citizens who have no infection. We’ve broken no laws. I think you’ve pushed as far as you can without us losing our patience completely—we stay together.”

They confer briefly, and the leader shrugs. “Caitlyn said nothing about separating them.”

Once we’re safely locked into the tiny cell, the Walkers fall back and watch us, talking softly amongst themselves.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand in a near whisper.

Finn flicks a glance at me. “Always with the fucking questions, Nurrin.”

Jokes. The idiot has jokes, now, of all times. I roll my eyes and turn away, dropping onto the single narrow cot. It’s creaky and hard as hell.

“I don’t know. And I don’t like not knowing. I wish you had listened to me and left.”

“To do what, exactly? I can’t find Collin without you.” I say the words without bitterness. A first. A smirk tugs at his lips, and his eyes are all mocking when he says, “Don’t get soft, Ren. Not now. Hold onto your anger.”

I flush. The door opens, and we watch as the Walkers file out, leaving us alone.

Finn sighs, a weary noise, and slides down the wall, propping his hands on his knees. I mirror his pose on the cot, and we fall into silence—one I feel no need to break—as we wait.

They keep us waiting until the sun has dropped in the sky and hunger is gnawing at my stomach. The Walkers never return, and Finn is quiet. I’m bored out of my fucking skull, and I can’t help the occasional glances I sneak his way. I can’t help but watch the way his lips go soft as he leans his head back and lets the tension ease out of him.

I can’t help but remember the feel of those lips. Goosebumps ripple along my skin, and I look away.

“I hated you, you know,” I say, absently.

Finn breathes a laugh, all ironic acknowledgment. “I do recall that, yes. It's very easy to hate something we don't understand, Nurrin. And you have never understood my relationship with Collin."

"Explain it to me," I say. Not a challenge this time, but an invitation. He looks at me, expression unreadable. I hold my breath, waiting.

And the door opens, before he has the chance to say anything. Three Gray-robed priests glide into the room. I feel everything in me clench—a lifetime of knowing the Order is my worst enemy and greatest threat. I curl into a smaller ball, trying to make myself invisible as they stare.

At Finn. All of them are ignoring me. I frown, slowly uncurling, my feet falling to the ground as I straighten. What the hell is going on?

“I’m not terribly surprised you’re here,” one of the Priests says, a smile tickling his lips.

“Ah. So this is where the Grays settled. I didn’t realize you made it to the ocean,” Finn says, and I flick a glance at him.

“Let them out. I don’t like discussing business through bars.” The Gray looks at me, his eyes an unnervingly clear blue. “I apologize, ma’am.”

He gives Finn a curious look. Finn has come to his feet, and he extends a hand, pulling me up. An arm wraps around my waist, and he tugs me into him. His lips brush my hair. “No names. Nothing to make them thing you are anything more than a traveling companion. Got it?”

I nod, and Finn straightens away from me. Smiles as the Blessed Order leads us from the room.

My mind is racing, and I grasp onto facts as I move alongside Finn. I have never seen a Gray Priest before. I know nothing about their sect within the Order. But the medic ordered our detainment, based on who we were rather than what we might be carrying into the haven.

And the Gray Priests are who she summoned. That alone tells me a lot, and it’s nothing I like.

Some havens are run by the Aldermen. Some are run by the Walkers and are militant. A very few are under the sway of 1—but no one trusts the federal government after they bombed our own cities. The rest are given more to anarchy—to the people and their whims.

And the Order. The Order holds more Havens then I like to think of, but I have never heard of one so under their influence.