It's been a bitter sweet process, trying to write these and finish book 3 all at once. However, it's been really fun and enlightening being able to delve deeper into our characters, and I think that will really show as LF and I move forward with the series.
Without further ado, here are the first three chapters for your perusal (purchase links are also included).
Ending Series Blog (FREE for a limited time only)
The final of six The Ending Series prequel novellas.
The virus changed everything. This is how it began.
After his sister’s death, Jake is determined to seek revenge against his best-friend-turned-enemy. However, after meeting Clara, who's as convincing as she is unnerving, his plans change completely.
Clara has all but given up on finding her Prince Charming, but the moment Jake walks into the hospital, her future becomes much brighter, despite the world-ravaging virus that's turned everything upside down.
But traveling across the country together proves more difficult than either of them expects, and just when they both think the world couldn't get any worse, it does.
Jake
Jake
sat on an overstuffed couch in the hospital’s rec room, the stark furniture and
barren walls brightened by the muted, flashing television. The President’s
address looped on the radio at the nurses’ station behind him, and the more the
words sank in, the more his mind reeled. A global pandemic? Start over? Build
anew? Was that even possible? Amidst his chaotic mind chatter, Jake
wondered what the hell he was going to do next.
Rising
from the couch, he took three steps toward one of the barred windows across
from him, braced his hands against the wall on either side, and let out a long
exhale. He stared out at the crashed Cadillac and the few buildings that were
visible through the trees across the road. Despite the fact that the city was
enshrouded in midnight, it was so changed. It was desolate, like living in the
country, but in a more unnatural way. There was no one catching a late night
cab…there was no traffic. Street lamps illuminated the haphazardly parked cars
on the snow-covered pavement, and a lone, scraggly terrier trotted down the
sidewalk, a leash dragging in the snow behind him. The dog stopped and sniffed
around the back of the Cadillac, no doubt searching for the remnants of the
chips Kyle had left behind, before trotting out of sight.
Choked
sobs came from the cafeteria down the hall, breaking Jake’s concentration. The
nurse, Roberta, hadn’t been able to calm Kyle down since the kid realized his
father was dead, and it was beginning to grate on Jake’s nerves.
As
much as he thought he should care about the situation he was in—the disease,
the billions dead, the pandemonium—he couldn’t, not really. The memory of
Becca, struggling as she took her final breath, was too fresh in his mind, too
raw. She was gone; Gabe took her away from him.
Jake’s
hands clenched into fists. He needed to stay focused. He needed to get to
Peterson Air Force Base. He needed to find Gabe…to hurt Gabe. Emotions
boiling, Jake let his hate and anger fuel him into action. He let out a
resolute breath and pushed away from the window.
But
as suddenly as Jake turned around, he stopped. Clara, the blonde-haired woman
whose blue eyes were too assessing, stood in front of him.
Her
head was tilted, her lips pursed, and her gaze flicked over his body. “Are you
alright?” she asked, her voice light and curious.
Giving
her a curt nod, Jake brushed past her with the intention of heading toward the
cafeteria.
Clara
reached out to him, her hand lightly clasping his biceps.
Body
tensing under her touch, Jake froze, looking down at her pale, delicate hand,
then into her penetrating eyes.
“It
was nice that you tried to help that man,” she said, and a small smile pulled
at her lips.
Jake
made a derisive noise. “Yeah, well, apparently it wasn’t enough.”
Her
brow furrowed, and she let go of his arm. “You did what you could.”
Nodding,
he started to take another step.
“You’re
leaving, aren’t you?”
Jake
frowned and paused again, wondering why she cared one way or the other. “I
never should’ve stopped in the first place.”
“No?”
Clara’s soft voice turned sharp, and she walked to the window Jake had been
staring out of only moments before.
She
was scared, he realized. He should be scared. “You’ll be alright here,”
he said, his voice carrying a weak attempt at comfort.
Clara
muttered something he couldn’t hear.
He
tried again. “You have food…Roberta and the other nurse…”
But
Clara seemed unfazed by this words, and she turned to face him. “If it’s so
safe here, then why won’t you stay? Why leave three helpless women and a child
alone?”
Jake
shook his head, uncertain why he felt the need to explain anything to
this woman. “There are things I have to deal with.”
After
a few impatient steps, Clara was directly in front of him. “Take me with you,
please?” Her eyebrows lifted and drew together.
“No,”
he said. “That’s not going to happen.” He suddenly needed to get out of the
room as soon as possible.
“Please.”
Like a blade, the word cut into him, threatening to sever his last shred of
decency. “Please,” she whispered.
Unable
to resist, Jake turned around.
Clara’s
eyes were even more pleading than her voice, they were shimmering, and her
chest was heaving. “Please,” she repeated. “You have to take me with
you. I can’t stay here. You don’t understand, I’ll die if I stay here…”
No.
The word was on the tip of his tongue, but it felt leaden and uncooperative. “I
have to go to Peterson, alone,” he reminded himself. “I have to go.”
“What’s
in Peterson?” she asked, so close that her presence was distracting him. When
he didn’t answer her, she continued, “Is it safe there? We need to leave…to go
somewhere safe. Please take me somewhere safe, Jake. I can’t bear to be here—in
this place, in this city—any longer.”
Slowly,
Jake’s eyes shifted to hers, his mind feeling muddled. Words tried to form, and
he tried to shake his head, to refuse her pleas, but he couldn’t. There was
something about her…something unsettling that made him want to walk away and
never look back. But another part of him wanted to give into her…to take her
with him…to leave Colorado Springs and find somewhere safe…
Clara
reached out to touch his arm again, and Jake flinched away.
Straightening,
she seemed to collect herself in a single, fortifying breath. Then, when her
eyes met his, it was like they were piercing into his soul. “Please.”
Clara
“I
just need to grab a few things from my house,” Jake said, his voice gruff.
As
far as Clara could tell, he hadn’t spared her a single glance for over an hour,
not since they’d climbed into his Jeep back in Colorado Springs and sped away
from the hospital for good. Jake’s intense focus on the road ahead had only
increased since leaving the eerily desolate, looted city behind.
“Okay,”
Clara said softly. She allowed herself a quick peek at him out of the corner of
her eye. One of his elbows was propped on the door as he drove, his head leaned
against his upraised hand, just as it had been since he first pulled away from
Pine Springs Hospital. “Do you want to rest for a little bit? Maybe stay—”
“No.”
Jake sounded exhausted…or irritated…or both. His fingers tightened audibly
around the steering wheel.
Clara
had been casting discrete glances in his direction since they’d been on the
road, struggling to understand why his mood had darkened so much. They’d barely
interacted at all, other than breathing the same air; there was nothing she
could’ve done to upset him, at least nothing she could think of.
“If
you’re sorry about leaving that little boy behind with Roberta, don’t be.
She’ll take good care of him.” Clara waited for some sort of reaction from Jake
as he guided the Jeep off a frontage road and onto a dirt driveway that
disappeared over a slight hill.
Jake
raised one shoulder in a minimal shrug. “He’s better off with the nurse than he
is with me.”
Blatantly
this time, Clara eyed him. “Is it the kid’s dad that’s bothering you—that he
died?”
Finally,
Jake tore his gaze from the windshield and looked at her. In the darkness, his
eyes seemed empty. “No. I’m fine.”
Even
with questions burning on her tongue, Clara decided it was best to let the
topic go. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her Prince Charming before
they’d even had the chance to get to know one another. At the rate they were
going, it would be a long time before that happened, Clara thought
bitterly.
She
wanted to express how grateful she was to him for bringing her along, but he
clearly wasn’t in the most receptive mood. Back in the hospital, she’d seen his
resolve, seen the way his eyes had burned with determination to do something
reckless, and a desperate fear had ignited inside of her. Clara’d all but
willed him to take pity on her, to abandon his suicide mission—whatever it
was—and take her somewhere safe; she’d wanted to be with him with every fiber
of her being.
Although
she knew what her own reasons were for wanting to leave with Jake—she was drawn
to this alluring, protective man who she would willing spend the rest of her
life with—she was clueless as to his reasons for changing his mind and
allowing her to tag along. He didn’t seem to care that he’d found her in a
psychiatric hospital; in fact, he hadn’t asked her a single question about it.
To Clara, the fact that he’d been able to look past that proved there
was something real and intense budding between them. They were meant to be
together, and she just needed to hold on to that.
She
almost smiled. What an interesting story they’d have to share with their
children one day…
Clara
couldn’t dismiss her curiosity about his past though, especially if his
day had been anything like hers, filled with crazy murderers locked behind metal
doors and rooms housing cold, dead bodies. If that was the case, it was
possible that the man sitting beside her wasn’t the man he’d been yesterday.
After all, he’d wanted to go to Peterson Air Force Base so badly that he’d
almost refused her plea. It was her obvious fear, she thought. Her fear mixed
with their simmering attraction had finally won him over.
Clara
smiled inwardly. Her path had crossed with Jake’s for a reason, and now this
tall, dark, and handsome stranger was taking her away from the hell she’d woken
up in. It was like her own fairy tale was being written, jumping off the page,
and becoming her reality, and despite her Prince Charming’s grim mood, her body
was humming with giddiness. He’d proved just how noble he was when he tried to
save Kyle’s father, even if he and Roberta had failed, and he’d saved her
by bringing her with him, despite his initial reservations. No, Jake was
the real thing, nothing like Andrew. Jake had proved he was a man of good
conscience, that he was valiant, even.
Joanna
could have Andrew and his mind games.
Silently,
Clara chided herself for letting her thoughts run away from her. She knew it
was stupid to believe in fairy tales, especially after how much trouble they’d
gotten her into. But the little girl bottled up inside her still hoped, with
all her might, that she could still have a shot at her own happy ending.
From
the corner of her eye, Clara studied Jake’s profile. Once again, his gaze was
fixated intently on what lie beyond the windshield. Strength radiated off of
him in nerve-settling waves, making her feel grounded and safe.
Staring
out the passenger side window, Clara watched as the tree-lined horizon
brightened with the subtle glowing hue of sunrise. After a few more bumps in
the road, the Jeep crawled to a stop before a small farm house, just behind
what Clara assumed was a snow-blanketed sedan.
Her
gaze settled on the car. It looked like it hadn’t been moved in days. Whose was
it? When Clara turned to ask Jake, his eyes were no longer empty, but illuminated
by the dash lights; they were dark pools of pain.
Clara’s
stomach turned sour. She thought he was probably thirty or so, which meant he
could have a wife…and children. Why had she not considered the possibility
sooner? With a minimal sense of guilt, Clara hoped that maybe his family was
dead, just like everyone else seemed to be.
Taking
a deep breath, she glanced around at her surroundings while Jake sat, unmoving,
beside her. There were pine trees with snow-laden branches littering the land,
and she could make out what appeared to be a separate, rundown garage behind
the house; it was so old, it looked close to crumbling. No wonder Jake had
seemed reticent to come home, Clara thought. The place was depressing. Although
the house seemed charming enough, snuggled in among frozen trees and a few
inches of snow, the porch light revealed pieces of pale paint curling off the
wood siding, giving Clara the impression that Jake’s past wasn’t one of
privilege, but one of hardship and struggle.
A
small smile curved her lips. It was just one more thing they had in common.
Clara
Hot,
stinking breaths heaved against the left side of her face, dissolving what few
pleasant thoughts she had left. Dogs. Clara didn’t do dogs. Cooper was
propped up on the center console, separating her and Jake.
In
silence, Jake stared at the house, completely oblivious as the Husky licked the
side of her face, making her cringe, his wet nose cold against her skin.
Letting out an annoyed breath, she turned away from him and tried to school her
revulsion.
“Are
you going inside?” Clara asked, her tone harsher than she’d intended. She
wasn’t sure why Jake had needed to come back to this place, but she hoped they
wouldn’t stay long. The thought of being in a house—a home—he might’ve
shared with another woman made her heart seize and her blood burn.
As
if her words had stirred Jake into action, he opened his door and climbed out
of the Jeep before Clara could even remove her seatbelt. Cooper leapt into the
driver seat, his bushy tail swatting her in the face before he, too, jumped out
of the Jeep and began sniffing around in the snow.
Reaching
for her own door handle, Clara briefly met Jake’s eyes from where he stood at
the open door. She stilled. The way he was staring at her—inscrutable emotions
shadowing his eyes and tensing his expression—made her feel uncomfortable,
almost unwanted. She bristled.
“I’ll
be back in a minute,” he said. “You should wait out here.”
Clara
didn’t know who might be waiting for him inside, but she wasn’t about to give
him leeway to change his mind about her. “Do you mind if I come in to pee?” she
asked. She cast her eyes downward, hoping to look timid. “I won’t get in your
way.”
After
a frustratingly long moment, Jake nodded and shut the driver side door.
Opening
her own, Clara slid out of the passenger seat. As soon as her feet crunched
down into the slushy snow and a frigid wind gusted past, she questioned her
decision to leave the warm confines of the Jeep. Shivering, Clara yanked her
scarf out of the backseat and wrapped herself up. She would learn nothing about
Jake by waiting for him; she needed to go inside.
Brushing
stray bits of dog hair off her black peacoat with one hand, Clara shut the door
with the other and followed after Jake. She found it increasingly difficult to
walk in the snow. How long had it been since she’d gone outside? Two weeks?
Three? Being locked in the hospital hadn’t afforded her much leisure time to be
out and about.
Jake,
however, trudged through the snow easily, and his footsteps sounded heavy as he
walked up onto the porch and stopped before the front door. He fumbled to fit
his key into the lock. He was anxious, Clara realized. Something about this
place unnerved him, and the realization made her uneasy, too.
When
Jake finally managed to push the door open, Cooper trotted inside. Jake,
however, remained at the threshold, staring into the darkness as if it housed
all his demons and childhood nightmares. Clara stood behind him, waiting,
wondering. After a long, deep breath, Jake took a hesitant step into the house,
Clara following tentatively behind.
She
knew why she was reluctant to be there, but was wary about why he
was. “Is it safe?” she asked as she entered what appeared to be a haphazardly
decorated living room washed in predawn light. There was a sharp, acrid scent
in the air that she couldn’t place.
Jake
flicked on the light switch beside the door, and the overhead light flared to
life, but he stood rigid, motionless.
Taking
a timid step toward him, Clara peered over Jake’s shoulder and gasped. There
was a large blood stain and what appeared to be dried vomit on the hardwood
floor across the room, near a hallway. “Oh my God,” she breathed. Her hand flew
to her mouth. “What happened?”
Cooper
began sniffing around the blood and vomit.
“Leave
it, Coop,” Jake ordered, and the dog lifted his eyes to his master’s before
whining and retreating down a dark hallway.
Clara
could only imagine the horrifying scene that had played out in this room, and
she wanted nothing more than to comfort Jake…even if she was relieved to learn
whoever else had lived there was apparently dead. “What happened?” she
repeated, slowly reaching for Jake’s shoulder.
Jake
stepped out of her reach. “The bathroom’s in there,” he said, pointing to a
closed door in the mouth of the hallway before following after Cooper. A light
flicked on further down the hallway, and Clara could hear Jake rummaging around
in what she assumed was probably his bedroom.
Questions
mounting and bitterness sprouting from his disregard for her concern, Clara
shifted her stare back down to the blood on the floor and tried to let the fact
that Jake had completely ignored her roll off her back. He was obviously still
coping; she would give him time to come around.
Clara
listened to Jake moving around in the room down the hall while she studied the
stark living room, devouring every single detail from the scant décor to
furniture he’d no doubt bought at a garage sale or a thrift shop. Her gaze
landed on a brown leather sectional that rested beneath a picture window, and a
small, black purse—its contents sprawling out over the cushions—that was
discarded there. Her eyes narrowed.
Forcing
herself to look away, Clara peered around at the walls, but there was nothing
of interest on them aside from three patches of paint coloring the space
between the front door and the large window—one mocha, one taupe, and one that
was more of a sage. There weren’t any pictures to scrutinize, nor any artwork
or sports memorabilia to indicate his hobbies and interests…or hers. In
fact, the room was lacking any sort of feminine touch.
Honing
in on a desk situated against one of the walls across from her, Clara walked
toward it; its old-fashioned charm and messiness stood out in the
bachelor-esque space. Papers were strewn around on the desktop, a couple
nursing textbooks were stacked to one side, and highlighters and pencils were
scattered among the crumpled papers instead of inside the empty “Got Coffee?”
mug that held only a single pen. The desk seemed to be the only part of the
house that wasn’t meticulous—other than the blood and vomit she’d bypassed—and
the only thing that had much character at all.
Nursing
books? Clara looked behind her at the purse on the couch, a Coach knockoff.
Jake had definitely had a woman in his life, and based on all of the
evidence, Clara guessed the desk was hers.
Just
as Clara looked down at the desk to study what was written on the papers—to
look for a name or study the style of penmanship—Cooper scampered into the
room, his nails clacking on the hardwood, making her jump.
“Stupid
mutt,” Clara muttered. He trotted into the kitchen, where a half-filled food
bowl awaited him beside a round dining table. Wondering if they could leave the
dog behind, Clara watched as Cooper scarfed down his food. She could hear the
crunch of dried kibble and the sound of the bowl clanging against the wall with
each impatient bite. She wasn’t sure why the dog’s mere presence annoyed her so
much, but it did. She rolled her eyes.
Hurrying
back up the hallway, Jake entered the living room with two large duffel bags
slung over his shoulders. “I need to grab a few more things from the garage.”
His eyes darted to Clara’s, and she blushed, wondering if he could tell she’d
been snooping. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dropping the bags near the front
door. “There’s food in the cupboards.” He strode back into the hallway, opened
a door that revealed a closet, and pulled out a canvas bag filled with more
bags. “Fill these with food that won’t spoil,” he said, thrusting them at her.
“There are more paper bags underneath the sink if you need them.” With that, he
headed through the kitchen and out a side door, leaving Clara standing by the
closet with the canvas bags balled up in her arms.
She
definitely wanted Jake to think she was useful, so she went to work, filling
the bags with as much food as possible. After stocking them with granola bars,
beef jerky, crackers, an almost empty bag of trail mix, a few plastic cups,
bowls and spoons, cans of soup, and several bags of chips, Clara grabbed the
few apples and oranges that were sitting in a fruit bowl on the counter, stuck
them in one of the bags, and left everything on the kitchen table. With a sigh,
she headed into the bathroom since she’d use it as her excuse for following him
into the house to begin with.
The
moment she flicked on the bathroom light, Clara’s eyes found and lingered on
the two toothbrushes in the holder. Closing and locking the bathroom door
behind her, she tried not to feel angry or hurt, but it was impossible. She
pictured Jake standing in the tight confines of the bathroom, his arm brushing
against a woman’s as he stood beside her…washing up before they crawled in bed
together for the night.
Unbidden,
an image of Joanna flashed through Clara’s mind, and she momentarily saw red.
Realizing there was no possible way Joanna could’ve known Jake, that she
could’ve been in any part of his life, Clara rolled her eyes at her own
ridiculousness and went about her business.
When
she was finished, she washed her hands and face, then took a long, scrutinizing
look at herself in the mirror. She stared into her shadowed, blue eyes,
wondering if she might look like the woman from Jake’s past. She squinted and
turned her head to the side, examining her jawline and pointed nose. She
wondered what Jake thought of her appearance as she ran her fingers through her
long, blonde hair. Was he helping her because she looked like the other woman?
Clara realized that must be it. Why else would he keep his distance but be
unable to let her go at the same time?
It
was all starting to make sense—the conflicted cast to Jake’s eyes, his
hesitation. Clara wondered what else might be storming behind his intense gaze
and quiet manner.
With
a sigh and a promise that, one day soon, she would ask Jake all of her
questions, Clara flicked off the bathroom light and opened the door. The living
room was silent, meaning Jake was still in the garage. Unable to resist the
temptation, Clara took the opportunity to explore the rest of the house.
She
took a few quick steps further down the hall and stopped in the doorway to the
room Jake had been banging around in earlier. Switching on the light, she noted
that the bedroom was in disarray, but after all the drawer-slamming she’d
heard, she wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her—and fill her with
relief—was the lack of anything feminine in the small space. The dresser
drawers were open, but all Clara saw were white t-shirts and a lot of
neutral-colored long sleeve shirts. There were no pictures or jewelry boxes
resting on top of the dresser, no photos hanging on the walls or decorative
pillows on the bed, and the nightstand had only a glass of water and an alarm
clock. There was nothing to make Clara think that Jake had shared this room
with a woman.
Her
heart lightened.
Turning
off the light, she backtracked up the hall, stopping in a different doorway.
With another flick of a switch, the room was illuminated, and Clara finally
began to understand. Jake hadn’t lived with a spouse, but perhaps a roommate or
sister. The bedroom was messy but feminine. A Queen bed was situated in one
corner, a comforter balled up on top, and textbooks and tissues were scattered
on the floor. Framed, scenic photographs, brightly colored painted canvases,
and corkboards cluttered with scraps of paper and magazine cut outs decorated
the walls around the room.
“You
shouldn’t be in here,” Jake said from behind her.
Clara
startled. “Is this your sister’s room?” she asked, standing in the center. She
hadn’t even realized she’d entered it.
Jake
stared at Clara, giving her a quick nod before turning and leaving the room.
“Come on,” he said from the hallway. “It’s time to go.”
She
could tell he was trying to control his temper. The chill in his voice sounded
more like hurt and sadness than anger, and she suddenly felt horrible for
snooping—relieved the woman was his sister, but horrible, too.
Hurrying
after him, Clara entered the living room.
Jake
wasted no time in handing her a few of the food bags and nodding to the open
front door. “We’ll put as much as we can in the back of the Jeep, but it’s
getting full.”
Clara
lugged one of the bags up onto her shoulder. “Can I help you pack anything
else?”
Jake
shook his head. “I’ve already put as much fuel as I could find in the back.” He
scanned the living room and kitchen. “We should have enough food to last until
we get to Indiana.”
“What’s
in Indiana?” Clara asked, heaving another bag of food onto her other shoulder.
As
Jake stared at her, his face softened, just a little. “A safe place, I hope.”
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