The World Without a Future.

World Without End.

By Nazarea Andrews.

Dedication.

The three ladies I couldn't do without, and The ones who loved this world first: Chantee, Bri, and Jess.

Hugs and chocolate for all of you!!

Part 1.

The Girl Without a Birthday.

We know we're getting old when the only thing we want for our birthday is not to be reminded of it.

~Author Unknown.

The children born the Day of Death will be the key to our salvation.

Their death will bring new life to our world.

From The Writings of the High Priest.

Chapter 1.

Phantoms of a Dead World.

I was born the day the world died.

Sometimes, when my brother-he's all I have left-talks about that time, I wish I had been alive for it. I wish I had seen it-shopping malls, grocery stores, even playgrounds without razor wire fencing and armed guards.

Then again, I don't always believe him. Who the h.e.l.l goes somewhere open and exposed without some visible protection?

I think the ones who were born after the change were lucky. We don't know enough to miss the old life. We didn't lose anything. We've always had the infects, the razor wire and guns, the drills. We've always lived behind walls.

Sometimes, I'll see Collin watching the horizon, watching the clouds scuttling over the walls, and I know he misses it-the freedom of travel, of life without our fences. And I'll pity him, a little. Because he is old enough to know exactly what was lost twenty years ago.

The day that I was born.

Chapter 2.

Early Mornings in h.e.l.lsp.a.w.n.

I wake up to warmth, an arm thrown over my hips, pulling me into him. I smile, a happy little movement. It's still new, this thing between Dustin and me. New enough that waking up next to him is a little bit thrilling. I snuggle closer to him and feel his lips curve against my neck. "You're awake," he says, drawing me to him. He shifts, so I'm pinned under him as he grins down at me.

Dustin. The best friend I've known my whole life-or long enough that nothing else matters. He came to the Hive when his parents were relocated to h.e.l.lsp.a.w.n-Haven 8, to the rest of the world. Walked with me to and from our daily cla.s.ses. Protected me from the bullies and new Walkers looking to make an impression.

He was the big brother whenever Collin wasn't around. He was with me when Collin Walked the wall for the first time.

And he kept me safe, kept my name and what I was quiet.

He leans down and kisses me, and I arch up to meet it. It still shocks me, the first brush of soft lips, the intensity that builds up beneath it, the fact that the hands that have cradled and helped me are holding me again, differently. Warming and gentle as he strokes over my arm and eases my sleep top down. Outside the tiny window, I can hear the low clang of the church bell.

"Stop," I murmur, catching his hand as it slips under my shirt. "Collin is on his way."

Resignation flickers across his face, and he nods. "I should get dressed."

I prop myself up and watch as he crawls from bed, his smooth, unscarred chest rippling with motion. I grin, and he smirks at me. "See something you like?"

I shrug. "Maybe."

He laughs and leans down to kiss me. Beyond the thin cloth barrier, I hear keys in the front door and the tumble of the locks being slid back. Dustin winks and slides out of my tiny room.

There's a frozen moment as the door opens and my brother and Dustin face off. Then, a low, softly accented voice mutters, "Get out of the way, Collin."

My lips curl in disgust. Of course he's here. He seems attached at the b.l.o.o.d.y hip to Collin these days.

My brother's voice, deep and steady and reminiscent of everything safe, fills the small apartment. "You should head home, Finn."

The air goes still, and I hold my breath. Danger changes the way the air feels, the way it moves around you. It feels charged, somehow. I feel it during a breech, when zombies swarm sections of the Haven. I feel it again, now.

Then I hear heavy footsteps and Dustin releasing the breath he's been holding.

"Is she asleep?" Collin asks.

"Yes."

"I like you, Dustin. You've been good to Ren-protected her as much as you can and been a solid friend."

"Thank you, sir. I try."

"How long has this been going on?"

Dustin shifts, clears his throat. I grin-he's intimidated by my tall, quiet brother. Always has been. "Long enough."

I hear Collin sigh and drop his bag on the table, the blades inside clattering noisily. "I can't stop this-and don't even want to. But have a little discretion, huh? She's my baby sister."

I flush, but lie quiet and still. Dustin mumbles something, and Collin steps over to the door. "She'll meet you downstairs for work duty. Go on."

The door clangs shut, and Collin sighs again. I should have told him about this-about the night at the track three weeks ago, when Becks said something nasty and rude to me and Dustin pulled me back before I punched her. About him dragging me down the beaten dirt path and calming me down, and me leaning up and kissing him, a kiss fueled by aggression and liquor and the simmering attraction that had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

I didn't though, because Collin didn't have anyone-hadn't had a woman in his life since before he Walked the wall. The only people who mattered to Collin were me and his best friend.

I step out of my curtained bedroom when Collin calls me for the fifth time. He's glaring at his watch and points abruptly at my breakfast. A mushy apple and a piece of stale toast. Ration day is still two days away, and we're sc.r.a.ping the bottom of the barrel. Because Collin gave the orphans next door some of our rations. Again. I toss the apple at him wordlessly, grab my bag off the floor, and head for the door.

"Where's your gun?" Collin calls out.

I stop, lifting my work shirt to expose the snub-nose revolver tucked into a holster on my hip. It's my favorite, because Collin gave it to me, when I turned ten. That was the year Mom died. "And I have my 9mm in my bag. And my knife in my boot," I say.

That's his rule. Three weapons any time I leave the house. And four back up rounds of ammo.

We haven't had a breach in Haven 8 in six months. The last one was in sector four, down by the tracks. Completely other side of h.e.l.lsp.a.w.n. But Collin never lets up-every morning when he stumbles in from Walking, before I leave for work, he checks my weapons.

I guess if I watched everyone I knew die, I'd be super careful with my baby sister too.

Collin follows me to the door, leaning against the wall as I begin to undo the locks. "What do you want for your birthday?"

It's that time of year again, and I bite my tongue on my answer. A party. A real one, with cake and laughing, music and dancing, presents. A party where people aren't looking morose and crying and talking about that day twenty years ago, when everything changed. A party not tainted by mourning, incense, and the screams from the Order's victims.

I don't say that, because a party isn't possible-not for me. Not on Day One. So I shrug and try to look like it's not a big deal, even though Collin sees through me, and always has. "A new bag would be good-this one is getting ratty," I say, holding up the bag I've been carrying since he handed it down to me.

His eyes narrow, a.s.sessing me, and I grin at him. He's not buying it, but I just need to get out the door. By tonight, he'll be too tired to ask me about my birthday. Or Dustin. We're both pretending that didn't happen, which I'm perfectly okay with.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I step out, yelling, "Bye, stay safe!" I let the door slam shut on his words and dart into the wide open hallway.

Collin hates living in the complex. He says that during the change, they were deathtraps, whole floors being changed and spilling out on the next until the entire complex was one hungry infection. Narrow hallways and no way out made for a chute of death that left no one alive.

That was at first. It took a while, once the change hit, for the survivors to learn how to fight back. How to survive.

"Nurrin!"

My name ringing through the hallway jerks me from my musings, and I whip around to glare at Dustin. "What the h.e.l.l did I say about that name?"

He grins at me, wrapping a thick arm around my shoulders and squeezing me into his side. "Sorry, Ren. But you weren't answering." He frowns down at me, and I flush. "You okay?"

I pull away, adjusting my bag, and nod. "I'm fine. Let's go."

Dustin opens his mouth. And closes it again. Smart boy, he is. Then again, he's been with me long enough that he should know when not to push.

I slam out of the Hive, and I'm immediately stopped, a tiny red laser dot painted on my chest. "Slow the f.u.c.k down, Ren," Billy growls. I flip him the bird as Dustin drags me away.

"Biters, girl, what the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" he mutters as I amble after him in the street. It's clogged with workers headed to the orchards, parents to the factory, soldiers coming off shift on the wall. All of us moving at a glacial pace because moving too fast would be distressing. "Are you upset about Collin catching us this morning?"

I don't want to answer him-he's annoyed enough, and if I do answer, he'll just think I'm being moody. I chew on my lip and ignore the question. "No. I'm just tired-and hungry. Rations are low."

Dustin changes the subject. "Do you think we'll be in the apples today?"

I shake my head. "Cherries. Kelly said they finished the apples last week."

Everyone in h.e.l.lsp.a.w.n works the orchards or fields, twice a week. It keeps us fed without devoting half the Haven's population to it. It's boring work, and I would rather be on the wall, but I have another year before I'm allowed to even apply for training.

Even then, I have to have a secured sponsor. Collin works the wall, but he'd never go for me up there. The only friend he has on it is Finn.

And I'd rather walk naked and unarmed a mile from the wall than ask Finn O'Malley for a d.a.m.n thing.

Chapter 3.

The Bells Toll I was right. We work the cherry trees, which puts me at the top of a tree, picking fruit from the fragile branches and praying I don't fall, while Dustin stands on a ladder, filling buckets from the lower, thick branches and laughing with the girls who come to take our crop.

I swallow another curse as I hear Becks Lawson laughing at something Dustin says. I zip my pouch full of cherries closed and swing down, so quick I almost lose my grip a few times, scurrying faster than a squirrel.

"Biters, Ren," Dustin says, when I'm a few branches above him. "You need to be careful."

I throw the pouch at him. "Hurry up."

He unzips the bag, and, even from here, I can see him pale. His head snaps up as he drops it like it's on fire. Becks screams, a little, and I'm suddenly conscious of the blood on my palms and the speed I'm moving at.

Both signs of infection.

Dustin whips around, clamping a hand over Becks mouth before she can scream it, and I'm so relieved I'm dizzy. I'm not infected-I can't be, I haven't been exposed to an infect in over six months. Not since before the last breach. I'm clean, dammit.

"She's clean," he's whispering, "There's not a d.a.m.n thing wrong. Do you want to spend a week in Q because she sc.r.a.ped her hand on the tree?"

Becks looks at me, her eyes wild above his hand, and I slide down the tree. Dustin glances back at me, and I slow my movements, making them exaggeratedly slow. I hold up my hand-it's raw, but bark is stuck in it. "I'm clean," I say, my voice deliberately loud and clear.