Chapter 120: It’s over

They walked for hours after leaving the brothers.

Saul and Jackson had given them what they could before they split ways. A small sack of food. A little water. Nothing fancy. Just enough to keep them going for a few days if they stretched it carefully.

Cherie still remembered the way Saul had looked at them before they left. Like he wanted to say something else. Like he knew the road they were choosing wasn’t the easier one.

The forest swallowed the sound of their steps as they moved deeper through it.

Dry leaves crunched under their boots with every step. Branches swayed softly overhead when the wind passed through the trees. The air smelled damp and cold, carrying the distant scent of rot that seemed to exist everywhere now.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

They had gotten used to walking in silence.

Talking meant thinking. Thinking meant remembering.

Then Hailey finally broke it.

“Where should we start?”

Cherie glanced over at her, confused.

“For what?”

Hailey stopped walking and looked at her like the answer should have been obvious.

Then it clicked.

Oh.

Right.

They were supposed to be looking for their friends.

The ones who didn’t make it out when the compound went up in flames.

Cherie slowed her steps slightly.

Truth was… she didn’t have the first idea where to begin.

They could be anywhere.

Dead.

Alive.

Captured.

The silence stretched long enough for Hailey to read the answer on Cherie’s face.

Her expression dropped slightly.

“We’ll figure something out,” Cherie said after a moment.

Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

They kept walking.

A few more minutes passed with nothing but the sound of their boots against the forest floor.

Then Hailey spoke again.

“I’m just gonna ask it.”

Cherie glanced at her.

“Why didn’t you take Saul’s offer?”

“What offer?”

“Canada.”

Cherie stopped walking.

For a second she just stared at Hailey like she couldn’t believe the question.

“We barely even knew those guys.”

Hailey shrugged.

“And yet it’d still be better than wandering around looking for people you’re not even sure are alive.”

Cherie froze where she stood.

Hailey walked a few steps ahead before stopping and turning back.

“Better than going to sleep every night wondering if the pills I’m taking are gonna stop working.”

“They won’t,” Cherie said quickly.

“And yet you still sleep with a dagger next to you.”

Cherie’s eyes widened.

Something passed across her face before she pushed it down.

“That’s for the other crap out there,” she muttered.

Hailey didn’t argue.

They started walking again.

Cherie rubbed the back of her neck.

“Look… all we gotta do is keep our heads up and hope for the best.”

Hailey let out a dry laugh.

“And where’s that gotten us?”

“It kept us alive.”

Hailey stopped again.

“No,” she said quietly.

“It kept you alive.”

Cherie turned around slowly.

Hailey stood a few steps back, shoulders slumped, eyes tired in a way that went deeper than just exhaustion.

“Unfortunately,” Hailey said, “I’m a realist.”

Cherie frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hailey hesitated.

Then she spoke.

“The pills were less than a month’s worth.”

Cherie felt her chest tighten. A slow, heavy weight pressing down, making it hard to breathe. Her stomach knotted, and for a second she thought she might fall to her knees.

Deep down, she already knew that.

Her mind tried to fight it, tried to push the thought away. She found solace in thinking that somehow by finding those people, Specifically, Terri— that they wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

It didn’t hit her how stupid that reasoning sounded until now.

So much for five months, huh?

Despite it all— she still tried.

“Hailey—”

“It’s over for me, Cherie.”

Her voice wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was tired.

“In a few days I’m gonna turn back into one of them. One of those red-eyed freaks.”

She shrugged faintly.

“I already made peace with that.”

“Hailey, you can’t think like that,” Cherie said quickly. “When we find the others—”

“It’s the ending someone like me deserves.”

Cherie’s face cracked.

Hailey looked down at the dirt beneath her boots.

“I did a lot of messed up things before the surge,” she said quietly.

“And after.”

Her voice dropped even lower.

“I’ve killed people. Hurt people. Tortured them.”

She looked up again.

Her eyes drifted to Cherie’s hand.

“Your hand.”

Cherie instinctively pulled it back.

Three fingers were missing.

“I did that,” Hailey said softly.

The forest felt completely still.

Hailey smiled weakly, tears building in her eyes.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking back then,” she said. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“Hailey, listen to me,” Cherie said, stepping closer. “I’ve done plenty of messed up things too. I wasn’t exactly a saint—”

“The difference is you get another shot,” Hailey said.

Cherie watched as Hailey reached into her pocket.

She pulled out the pill bottle.

Then she flipped it upside down.

Nothing came out.

It was empty.

“Oops,” Hailey said with a weak smile.

Cherie felt her stomach drop even further.

“Don’t even know if you can overdose on these things,” Hailey added quietly. “Guess I’ll just have to find out.”

Cherie slowly shook her head as the realization settled in.

“Forget about me,” Hailey said softly.

Her voice had lost most of its strength now.

“Forget about chasing ghosts too.”

She wiped at her eyes.

“You still have time, Cherie.”

Hailey looked at her one last time.

“In this messed up world… you might still be able to build a life.”

A long silence passed between them.

Then Hailey spoke again.

“You were already so close to.”

—

Aubrey slammed her foot into the chair in front of her.

The chair scraped loudly across the floor and toppled onto its side.

“Can you fucking believe him??”

She kept pacing the room, back and forth across the same stretch of floor like a caged animal. Her hands kept running through her hair, gripping it, letting it go, then doing it again.

Isabella sat on the couch nearby with her elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion as she watched Aubrey move.

Back.

Forth.

Back again.

“How the hell is he gonna tell me I never cared?” Aubrey snapped. “I spent the same damn time with those people. The same amount!”

Her voice bounced off the walls.

Isabella stayed quiet.

“They were my people too!” Aubrey continued. “But you don’t see me running around on some kind of terminator murder spree.”

Isabella blinked slowly, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Wanna know why?” Aubrey said, throwing her arms out. “Because I’m not stupid enough to pretend there won’t be consequences for that kind of crap.”

She kicked the fallen chair again as she turned.

“I mean seriously,” she went on. “He’s acting like he’s the only one who lost someone in that place.”

Her hand shot toward Isabella.

“Even you lost both of your—well…”

The words died halfway out of her mouth.

Isabella’s expression shifted. Not much. Just enough for the air in the room to change.

Aubrey hesitated for a moment before continuing, quieter now.

“Well… you get the point.”

Isabella rubbed her face slowly.

“Aubrey… honestly…” she started.

Aubrey stopped pacing and looked at her.

“Maybe you should just talk to Adrian about this.”

“I told you I already did!” Aubrey shot back instantly.

Her voice rose again.

“Well… talk to him again.”

Aubrey opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out right away.

She stared at Isabella like she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

Then she laughed.

It wasn’t a happy sound.

“Wow.”

Isabella frowned slightly.

“Giving me the cold shoulder too now?” Aubrey said. “Even you’re being a dick?”

Isabella blinked, suddenly more alert.

“Aubrey, all I’m saying is—”

“No, no,” Aubrey interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Really.”

Her voice had that tight edge people get when they’re trying not to lose it again.

“Don’t even worry about it.”

She turned and walked toward the door.

Her steps were quick and sharp.

Her hand reached the doorknob.

“Fine,” Isabella said.

Aubrey paused.

“You want my advice?”

Aubrey stayed where she was but turned her head slightly over her shoulder.

Isabella leaned back against the couch now, studying her.

“Go with him.”

Aubrey frowned.

“On one of those runs he keeps doing,” Isabella continued. “Follow him out there and see what he’s actually doing.”

Aubrey turned more fully now.

“And what exactly is that gonna do?”

Isabella held her gaze.

“Right now you’re both just yelling at each other about things neither of you understand.”

Aubrey scoffed quietly but didn’t interrupt.

“People grieve in different ways, Aubrey,” Isabella said.

Her voice was calm, but there was weight behind it.

“You think he’s just being reckless. He probably thinks you’re pretending nothing happened.”

Aubrey’s jaw tightened.

“He’s not going to understand you,” Isabella finished quietly, “if you’re not willing to understand him first.”

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