The World Without a Future (The World Without End) by Nazarea Andrews Read Free Book Online

behind him, running through the infects as Finn puts them down. The Porsche is gleaming, if a little dented. I slide into the front seat, slamming the door shut behind me and fumbling with the key. It slides in despite my shaking fingers, and I scream as something collides with the driver side of the car. An infect slides down the door as Finn shoves a knife into the base of its skull. He opens the door, and I hurl one of my throwing stars without thinking, nicking his arm before it lands in the eye of the infect behind him. He doesn’t bother looking—he slips into the car and slams his foot onto the gas before he’s even got the door shut.
    “You tore my shirt,” Finn says. I’ve finally got my heart rate under control, but his voice kicks it back up.
    “But I did kill the infect,” I say in my defense, and his lips twitch.
    “You did what you were told—I didn’t expect that.”
    “I said I would,” I say defensively, flushing when he rolls his eyes. “I
do
take orders, when they make sense.”
    “Like when Hellspawn was breached?”
    That still bothers me. He shouldn’t have been in the Orchard—even if they had a protocol in place, a plan to get us out. “How did you get there so quickly?” I blurt out, and his eyes snap to mine.
    They’re gray—a sharp, cold gray, like the sky over the wall at first light.
    The thought is absurd, and I don’t know why I’m noticing, why now of all times. I flush and look out the window. “Your house wasn’t close to the Orchards.”
    “Who said I was home?” he answers, looking back out the windshield.
    Irritation sparks through me, and I look away as he laughs, sharp and mocking. “There are some benefits to the privacy of the orchards—benefits you don’t find in the Hive.”
    A girl. He was in the Orchard with a
girl?
    Heat floods my cheeks, and I twist away from him, furious and hating that I am.
    “How long, to get to Haven 18?”
    His lips do that irritating twitch again. “Two days, Nurrin. Get comfortable.”
    That makes me nervous. Two
days,
trapped in this tiny car with Finn’s overly large presence? I look out the window as he slams the car forward. Infects are swarming toward us, and time seems to slow as the car speeds up. One catches my eyes as he races at us, his skin limp and hanging off his limbs in long, leathery strips. His left leg is twisted horribly, and I can see bone, but it doesn’t slow him as he throws himself against the Porsche. The car skids a little at the impact, and I see the terrible hunger and rage in the zombie’s eyes as Finn curses savagely, wrestling the car into submission and jerking forward. There’s a sick snap when we roll over something in the road, and I glance at him, worried, but his eyes are tight on the road—if it can even be called that—as we leave the zombies—and my brother—behind.
     
    We travel in silence. I keep my gun in my lap, but, though we see small herds of zombies occasionally, they don’t give chase often, and when they do, the Porsche easily out paces them. Even a zombie will give up, after a while.
    Eventually, I relax, stop scanning the desert for infects, and survey the interior of the car. The seat I’m sitting in is soft, buttery leather cocooning me. The interior is midnight black, and it makes Finn’s pale skin and startling eyes stand out in the dimness. He glances at me, as if feeling my gaze, and I flush, looking away.
    And somehow, it changes the mood in the car. He doesn’t say a word, but there’s a tension now that wasn’t here minutes ago. I shift in my seat then curse myself for doing that. There’s a radio on his dash, though it’s useless. Radio died with the rest of the world, when I was born.
    “I’m hungry,” I say, and Finn’s lips twitch again.
    “There’s some energy bars in my bag,” is all he says, and I twist, my ass in the air as I shuffle through the bags we threw into the miniscule back when we jumped into the car. I let out a soft cry