Epilogue

Epilogue

Two months later …

I lounge across the motorcycle,parked just off Route 66 somewhere in New Mexico, tipping my head to the sun and letting the warm desert heat blanket my face. The journal in my lap sits open to a page that I make a point to read daily. A good reminder for my generation, and generations to come.

You see the world as it is. I see the world as it isn’t. But what we see individually is molded by our past, our experiences, and our hopes of what’s to come. Always remember that everyone has a story, and you’ll never know hate for another human being as long as you live.

I pray, in time, your generation will heal from our mistakes. Perhaps you’ll come to know the truth that somehow escaped us along the way—there isn’t a vaccine in creation that can cure hatred and indifference to human suffering. They are the most virulent diseases in existence.

This is your world now, Wren. Live it as you see it.

The soft brush against my cheek draws my eyes open, to Rhys standing over me, offering a floppy stuffed rabbit, similar to Sarai’s. For as old as it is, it’s surprisingly still intact, and only covered in a small bit of dirt.

A quick glance toward the building shows the broken window, through which Rhys climbed inside what seemed only seconds before. The faded rainbows and sun painted on the walls hardly give it the appearance of the daycare that once stood there.

“That was fast.”

“’Sat what you asked for?”

“Yes, it’s perfect.” I strap the rabbit to the back of the seat with some twine I already gathered and smile. “He’ll love it.”

“She,” Rhys corrects, setting his hand against my belly that hasn’t yet begun to show. “She will love it.”

“You’re hoping she’s a daddy’s girl, but she’ll probably end up like me. Emotionally withdrawn. Wary of men.”

“Stubborn to a fault,” he adds, and plants a kiss to my lips. “A son wouldn’t fare much better, if he takes after me.”

I raise my brows and sigh. “True. You’re not exactly good at sharing, and you eat twice your weight in figs.” With a shrug, I smile. “Maybe we’ll have twins. My mother did. I’m pretty sure it’s genetic.”

His eyes widen at that, as if he never gave thought to the possibility. “I don’t know if the world’s ready for that.”

“The world? Or you?”

“Both.” He chuckles and, hooking his finger beneath my chin, presses his lips to mine again. “I love you, little bird. Always have. Always will.”

“I love you, too.” I don’t hesitate to say it aloud. Pain be damned.

“Are you ready?” he asks, brows winged up.

Nodding, I smile and tuck Papa’s journal away into my satchel. “Let’s burn rubber.”

When I twist back around, Rhys is knelt beside the bike, holding something between his fingers. I stare down at the bronze twisted metal he’s holding up in offering, and blink hard, unsure if I’m understanding what’s going on. An old fashioned skeleton key bent into a ring sits between his thumb and forefinger.

“I remember you used to collect keys. Found this in your bag.” Rubbing the metal, he anchors his stare from mine. “I know you’re not one for tradition, but I wanted to make it official. As official as it can be. I love you, Wren. You’re the only one who’s ever unlocked my heart.” He slips the metal over my finger, and it’s the perfect fit. “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never want anyone else. May I have the honor of calling you mine?”

I stare down at the ring spiraling up my finger and blink away the tears. “I liked to dream that one day I’d find the key that opened some hidden treasure somewhere. Something important, or valuable. As if I held the key to someone’s whole life story.” I spin the key around my finger and let the smooth steel pass over my skin. It seems so silly that a bent piece of metal could mean so much to me. That it could only add to the brimming love I feel for him. So frivolous and perfect at the same time.

Raising my gaze to his, I smile and stroke his cheek. “You’re my story, Rhys. My most important thing. The answer’s yes.”

He pushes to his feet, and his kiss is as reverent as his words, silently professing his love and devotion. He kisses me like the world’s about to end, and we’re all that’s left. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Hey! Romeo and Juliet! We goin’, or not?” I twist around toward where Rigs is revving his bike, behind him, two lines of bikers and two green trucks bringing up the rear.

The new members of our caravan are those who were released from Calico by Tripp, Tinker and Rigs. And although Legion soldiers did show up at the mine that day, they were met with evacuated tunnels lined with explosives set by Tinker.

As far as we know, there hasn’t been a raid since.

The wall is still guarded by Legion, and with their reduced numbers, we could fight them, maybe even bring down the barriers and seize the community. But that would make us no better than them.

Besides that, none of the other survivors care to live so close to a place that will forever remain in our nightmares and symbolizes humanity’s darkest, most ruthless nature. One that could someday breach those sealed doors and infect a whole new generation.

I pray that’s never the case, but to be safe, we decided to move on.

Rhys groans, climbing onto the bike, and I lean forward, wrapping my arms around him, resting my chin on his back. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t ride off with you alone,” he says over his shoulder.

I smirk at the comment.

There was a time I believed that surviving on my own was the only way to survive, at all. That by severing the threads that bind them to others, a person becomes indifferent. Invincible. Liberated from the obligations of love.

I also believed that love was nothing more than a precursor for pain.

After all, this world has no room for love. It’s harsh and violent and thrives from taking, but still we seek it out, because the will to live and love is the only universal thing that binds us as a species and ensures our viability—an ever-constant pulse that drives us, in spite of the pain and hate that seeks to destroy us along the way.

When the world is at its darkest, somehow love still carries the light.

Love is strength and weakness. A crutch and a sword. It can leave a person hollow and heal their wounds. It’s a friend to the stars, with pain as its shadow. A dichotomy whose time is uncertain.

But above all things, love is necessary.

“We could,” I tell him. “And we’d definitely make it on our own. But I’ve found it’s better to survive with others. It’s that whole … biological imperativething.”

“Then, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll survive together.”

Rhys leads the others back onto the highway, and we head east, where the next chapter of my life begs to be written.

There are those who’ll never know what awaits them, for fear of losing the illusion of safety they’ve created in their minds.

I chose this side of that wall, where survival is harder, but real.

Because it’s like Papa said in his journal.

We don’t see the real world. We only see ourworld.

* * *

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