The World Without a Future (The World Without End) (3 page)

“WAIT!”

The voice stops me cold, skidding around to stare in hopeful disbelief as Dustin breaks from a little shop. He’s covered in blood and is limping. “Dustin!” I shout, taking a half step toward him. Finn grabs me and jerks me to a stop.

“Collin, five coming at you,” Finn says, his voice urgent. My brother shoots, but I can barely see anything but my best friend limping toward me. I grab him, pulling him into me, searching him frantically for bites. He’s bloody, and his face is twisted in pain. But he isn’t bitten. That’s the most important thing.

“How?” I start, but Finn is pulling me on, and Dustin struggles to keep up, limping as he does.

“Question him later. Did you miss the part where a horde invaded Haven? We need to get the fuck out.
NOW.”

I hate that he’s right. “We aren’t moving fast enough,” Collin pants, and I look around. Zombies are headed toward us at full speed, and we’ve slowed down to accommodate Dustin’s limping gait.

Finn looks around, and I glance at him. “Will we make it?” I ask, my voice low enough that Dustin won’t hear me. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are angry.

“Go. Collin, you know where. Get her safe.” He’s stopped, unclipping his guns. I look at him, stunned, and then to Collin.

“No. No freaking way. You can’t hold an entire horde off.”

Finn flashes me a dangerous smile, one that screams confidence and disdain. “Didn’t think you gave a damn.”

“I don’t,” I snap, flushing. Unfreakingbelivable. I’m embarrassed in the middle of a breach.

Finn reaches for me, and I jerk back, startled. His fingers graze my hair, and something fills his eyes for a heartbeat. “Go. It’s not far. I can hold them long enough.”

Collin doesn’t hesitate—he yanks me back into motion, and I’m too stunned to protest when we round a corner and Finn disappears.

He was right. The cramped storage unit where his cars are isn’t far—four blocks away from where we abandoned Finn. Collin isn’t saying anything, but I can see his hands shaking as he yanks the door open with a rattle. The noise echoes, and Dustin flinches. “Get in,” Collin orders, and I help Dustin into the sleek little car nestled under the blue tarp. As I peer into it, I go very still then straighten.

“Collin. This car only seats two.”

“I know,” he says. “Finn planned for this. You and I were supposed to be in the car, and he’d ride the bike to cover us.”

The bike he reveals is tiny, sleek, and, instinctively, I know it’s fast. And a thought occurs to me. “Collin, you drive Dustin. I won’t be able to avoid the infects in that—I can dodge better on the bike.”

My brother pauses in the middle of gathering weapons and looks at me. “You can’t go back for him.”

I laugh out loud. “What on earth makes you think I
want
to go back for Finn O’Malley?”

Collin stares at me for a moment longer, and I meet his gaze head on. And then he nods. “Ok. Come on, let’s get you in some gear.”

Five minutes later, I’m dressed in skin-tight, bite-resistant armor, a gun in the top of both my boots and several knives attached to the bike itself. I feel like a walking armory. Collin looks at me. “Was Dustin bitten?”

I look at my boyfriend. He’s tense—his whole body taut and anxious—but his eyes are closed, as if he’s sleeping. “No. I think he got caught up in the crowd—and I think the ankle is broken.”

Collin nods. We can hear the sound of gunfire, footsteps and screams, drawing closer. He kisses me quickly on the forehead. “Stay safe. And close. We’ll need to move fast when we get past the walls.”

I nod and, Collin’s gaze darts past me. Finn still hasn’t appeared. And we’re out of time.

The Porsche 911 is quiet—almost soundless—as it prowls onto the eerily empty street, and I follow with the soft purr of the crotch rocket.

I can hear the screams, the sound of fighting, and the wet rip of flesh as zombies feast—the citizens of Hellspawn are buying us time. The zombies are too intent on feeding to notice us slipping away two streets down. Collin steers quickly, toward the west wall, toward the promise of open roads to escape the horde. I watch him from behind my helmet. It’s coming up, the tight little alley I saw. He won’t be able to turn around there. My whole body is tight with nerves and anticipation. He turns, and the Porsche eases down the alley. I hit the gas, the bike jumping forward.

Leaving my brother behind.

Finding Finn shouldn’t be hard—all I have to do is follow the trail of dead infects. And leaving him…I shake my head. Even as much as I dislike Finn, I can’t abandon him to a horde. No one deserves that.

I ease the bike up to a corner and peer around. The trail of dead led here. A lone shot rings out, and a body falls. The other infects are snarling, a vicious song of hunger and hatred as they dart back and forth.

I peek around the corner and see them. Ten infects gathered around a low overhang. Finn’s perched there. As I watch, he lines up another shot, and his gaze lands on mine.

Shock and something else—hope?—fills his eyes for an instant before anger flares, taking over.

He
would
be furious.

I push that thought aside—along with the strange emotions I keep seeing—and aim. All I have to do is clear a path.

I get three shots off before the infects realize I’m there. As they turn, Finn shouts, and four quick shots ring. Three more bodies drop, but the remaining four are converging on me. I shoot two, and the others are on me. I can hear the pound of feet, and it occurs to me as one of the biters snaps at my arm, this was a stupid idea, and then blood sprays, and I swallow a scream as the zombie’s head goes spinning. Finn is glaring at me over the bloody steel of his sword, and I manage to swallow as he demands, “Did it bite you?”

“No.”

“Scoot back, Ren. I’m not riding bitch on my own bike.”

He shoves me a little, and I slide back, letting him swing onto the bike. It rumbles under him, and he shouts, “Hang on,” and I plaster myself to him.

And then we’re racing through the streets, and if the infects realize we’re here, they don’t have a chance in hell of catching us. I can see the west wall, rising a hundred feet up, twenty feet thick, and I wonder where his exit is. In a breach, all the gates will be locked down.

He swings us to the south, and I can see the Porsche skidding through blood and gore—how the hell did the infects get this far into Haven so quickly?

Finn curses and gives the bike a little more speed. I stifle a scream as we lurch forward. A grate—low and dark—is open, and he angles for it. Collin flashes his lights twice, and Finn waves back. Then we’re swallowed up by darkness.

We burst out of the tunnel into light so brilliant, I’m not sure how Finn can see. He’s still cursing, a soft, steady stream of noise that rings in my ears. Behind us, Collin keeps pace in the Porsche.

And that’s when it hits me and I pull away from Finn a little, shock slamming into me. His hand clamps down on my wrist, jerking me back against him. I know what he’d say, if I could hear him.
Keep your shit together, Ren.

But how? We’re in the freakin’ Wide Open, the massive stretches of unsettled land that belong to the infection, the stretches between Havens that are teaming with zombies. The only thing that kept us safe was the walls around our cities, and we’re not behind them anymore—and even if we were, the zombies are there as well. A scream bubbles in my throat, aching for an escape.

Strangely, it's Finn who steadies me.

I've hated Finn since I met him, three years ago. It was a week after Collin was sponsored to the wall, and I came home from school to find my brother and Finn sitting on the couch, bags of melting ice on their faces. I knew who he was—Hellspawn wasn't so big that I could miss Finn O'Malley. But I'd never spoken to him.

Finn was different. He came to Haven instead of being born here, and he was an orphan—but then, many of us were. But where Dustin and Becca and others bonded with me and Collin, forming loose families within the Hive, Finn wanted none of it. He seemed to enjoy the distance and solitude.

I'd never heard of the wealthy orphan having friends. Until that day he punched my brother and got both of them sentenced to extra walks for a month—and docked rations.

After that day, he never left. Not really. And I hated him, for sharing something with Collin that I couldn't, and for hitting my brother, and for thinking he was too good for the rest of Haven. The girls in the Hive fluttered like idiots when he dropped by, something Finn was very aware of.

I couldn't stand him, and the dislike was reciprocated. That I had saved his life—well, that had everything to do with him saving all of ours.

"Nurrin, infects are coming," he shouts, over the roar of the wind

I glance back and see them—three older infects. The females are oozing blood, hideously disfigured in their semi-naked state. One’s arm is twisted back at an unnatural angle that hurts just to look at. The male lopes along behind them, his jaw unhinged and hanging open.

“Take my gun,” Finn orders, and I obey, pulling it from between us. He slows down, and I fight the terror that grips me as I realize he’s letting them gain on us. I push that thought aside—he thinks I can do this. And Finn isn’t so self-sacrificing he’d risk his life twice.

The thought clears my head, and I squeeze the trigger. The first infect drops, blood spraying up in the face of her pack mates. Three more squeezes and the others are dead.

Truly dead, not the half-there sate they’d been suspended in. Killing isn’t fun—but there’s something soothing about giving them that final shot, the final bit of rest.

And if I didn’t, they’d just tail us back to—where the hell are we
going?

I tuck the gun into Finn’s holster and lean closer to ask, but he revs the engine, and we race across the Wide Open in a roar of wind that steals all conversation.

Darkness has begun to fall when I feel the bike slow. The Porsche prowls behind me. We haven’t stopped today, except for once, refueling the vehicles from a cache of gasoline Finn had hidden in a graveyard.