My Destroyer, Our Apocalypse

“Open the gates, Garran! That's my brother out there!” I grabbed Garran Rook's arm, trying to force him to look at the security monitors. Beyond Northline's barricades, exhausted survivors crowded the road, some carrying bags, others supporting injured relatives. A woman knelt in the rain while the man beside her shouted for help. Oryn was somewhere among them. My younger brother had gone out with a group collecting supplies and returned too late. Now he was trapped outside the only settlement in the district with working generators, a medical unit, and enough food to keep people alive for another month. “Send a team out,” I begged. “You have six armed men on the eastern platform. They can bring him through before anything happens.” “Two people in that convoy collapsed before reaching the barricade,” Garran said. “We have reason to suspect infection.” “Or exhaustion. They haven't eaten properly in days, Garran. You know what that does to people.” “We can't risk exposing everyone inside.” “You haven't even tried to find another way!” His jaw tightened. I knew that expression. I'd seen it during arguments about rationing and security patrols. It meant he was listening, but he had already decided that nothing I said would change his mind. “I'm responsible for everyone inside those walls,” he said. “And I'm responsible for my brother!” “I know who Oryn is, Nerys.” “Then stop talking about him like he's a number on one of your reports. He's family. He's the person who helped you repair that ridiculous radio when you couldn't get it working, remember? He trusted you!” Pain flickered across Garran's face, but it disappeared almost immediately. “That's why I can't make an exception.” I stared at him, struggling to understand how the man who had once promised me that nobody would be left behind could stand in front of me and say those words. “You told me we'd look after each other,” I whispered. “You said we'd find a way to bring people home.” “I meant it.” “Then open the gates.” “I can't.” “You won't.” He glanced at the monitors. That tiny movement told me everything. “If you're wrong about the infection, those people will die because you refused to help them. If you're right, we can isolate them in the old maintenance building. We have protective equipment. We can organize a temporary quarantine.” “Not enough for that many people.” “Then send what you have! Let the people you send decide whether they're willing to take the risk. You don't get to make every decision for everybody!” “Nerys, stop.” “No! You don't get to tell me to stop because you don't like what I'm saying. I'm asking you to give my brother a chance. I'm not asking you to promise he'll survive. Just give him a chance!” For a moment, Garran said nothing. I thought he was reconsidering, and I hated myself for the hope that rose in my chest. Then he turned to the guard beside the control panel. “Lock the secondary entrance. Nobody goes outside until the immediate threat has passed.” The guard hesitated. “Now,” Garran ordered. Metal groaned somewhere below us as the entrance sealed. I lunged toward the control panel, but Garran caught me around the waist. “Let me go!” “You can't open it yourself.” “Then get your hands off me and let me find someone who can!” “I'm the only person who can authorize it.” I twisted out of his grip and faced him. “Of course you are. Every door needs your permission, every decision goes through you, and now you get to decide who deserves to live.” His expression hardened. “If I open those gates and the settlement falls, how many people will you say I should have saved?” I slapped him. The sound echoed through the control room. Garran's face turned with the impact, but he didn't retaliate. He simply looked at me, and I realized that I had never hated him more. “Don't hide behind everybody else,” I said, my voice shaking. “You made this decision. If Oryn dies out there, don't you dare come looking for me. Don't touch me, don't tell me you were trying to protect me, and don't ever say you loved me. You had a choice, Garran. You chose to leave him outside.” I ran before he could answer. Outside, rain soaked my clothes as I pushed past the guards and reached the fence. People were still begging to be let in. Some had begun scattering toward the abandoned buildings, while others stood frozen beneath the floodlights. Then I saw Oryn. His jacket was torn at the shoulder, and one hand was pressed against his side. When he spotted me through the bars, he tried to smile. That was what broke me. Even trapped outside with frightened strangers, he was trying to reassure me. I pressed both hands against the fence and shouted his name. He shouted something back, but the rain swallowed his words. I kept telling him to move away from the crowd, to find shelter, to stay where I could see him. I gave him instructions because instructions were all I had left. A guard eventually dragged me away from the fence. By morning, the convoy had scattered. Some survivors had disappeared into the abandoned streets. Others were found dead along the road. The medical team later confirmed that several people in the group had been infected, but nobody could tell me whether Oryn had been among them. We searched for three days. Garran sent teams beyond the barricades, and he joined the second search himself. They returned with Oryn's torn jacket, recovered near the drainage channel outside the eastern road. They never found his body. After that, I stopped speaking to Garran. We lived in the same settlement, but I avoided him whenever I could. Once, I saw him standing outside my door with a small package in his hand. By the time I opened it, he was gone. I never asked what he'd brought me. Weeks later, Northline fell. The alarms began before dawn. Gunfire echoed through the corridors as the last security line collapsed, and survivors rushed toward the evacuation vehicles. Garran found me in the lower corridor, bleeding from a wound near his ribs, but he still shoved a weapon into my hand and ordered me to stay behind him. “I can walk without your help,” I snapped. “I'm aware, Nerys. There are people trying to kill us, so perhaps we can discuss your independence when we're not standing in a corridor full of them.” I almost laughed. I hated that I almost laughed. We reached the loading bay before part of the ceiling collapsed. Garran shoved me clear, taking the impact himself. When I crawled back to him, he was struggling to breathe. I pressed both hands against his wound and shouted for help, although we both knew nobody was coming. “Don't,” he whispered, catching my wrist. “Don't you dare tell me not to help you!” His mouth twitched. “Still giving orders.” “Somebody has to. You're terrible at following them.” His faint smile disappeared. “I should have found another way.” I stared at him. “I thought I could keep them safe,” he continued. “I thought making the decision quickly would prevent something worse. I should have looked harder. I should have given them another chance.” “Garran, please.” “I know you don't forgive me.” “You don't know anything about what I feel.” “No,” he admitted. “I suppose I don't.” His fingers tightened around mine, then gradually weakened. “I loved you, Nerys.” Tears blurred his face. I bent over him, pressing my forehead against his as I tried to hold him there through sheer desperation. “Then why wasn't that enough?” He didn't answer. His hand slipped from mine, and Garran Rook died beneath a broken roof, leaving me alive in a world where I no longer wanted to be. “Nerys? Hey, are you awake?” I jerked upright so violently that my knee struck the underside of my desk. My coffee cup toppled, spilling across a stack of invoices, and I caught it before it hit the floor. For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was seeing. The office was bright. The air conditioner hummed overhead, and the printer was making its usual grinding noise. Across the aisle, a woman in a ridiculous yellow cardigan was staring at me. Mira. Alive. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You've been sitting there with your eyes closed. I asked if you wanted something to eat, but you didn't answer.” I stared at her. “What date is it?” She frowned. “Tuesday, October eighteenth. Why?” My stomach dropped. October eighteenth. Six months before the outbreak. I grabbed my phone and searched for Oryn's number with trembling fingers. He answered on the fourth ring. “Finally. Are you coming home tonight, or have you decided your office is your new residence?” I couldn't speak. “Nerys?” His voice was exactly as I remembered it, cheerful and impatient, with that familiar hint of amusement that had always made me want to argue with him. “Where are you?” I managed. “At home. Where else would I be?” “Stay there. Please. Don't go anywhere until I get there.” A pause followed. “What's wrong? You sound like you've just watched somebody die.” I covered my mouth as tears spilled down my cheeks. The last time I'd heard his voice, I'd been screaming his name through a locked gate while rain ran down my face. Now he was alive. “I'm coming home,” I whispered. “I'll explain everything when I get there.” “Are you sure you're okay?” “No.” I swallowed. “But I'm going to be.” I ended the call and stood beside my desk, crying so hard that I could barely breathe. Mira came closer, asking whether she should call someone, but I could only stare at the calendar on my screen. Six months. I had six months to save Oryn before the world fell apart. I also had six months before Garran Rook became the man everyone inside Northline would depend on. I remembered his hands holding mine as he died. I remembered his confession, the gates, and the look on Oryn's face when he saw me through the fence. Whatever had brought me back, I wasn't going to waste it. I would prepare for the outbreak, find people who could help us survive, and make sure Oryn never ended up outside those gates. As for Garran, I would stay away from him. I would not trust him again. I would not mistake his kindness for a promise, and I would never give him another chance to destroy me. My phone vibrated. An unknown number had sent a message. Regional emergency preparedness meeting confirmed. Attendance required. October 21, 9:00 a.m. I stared at the screen. I remembered that meeting. In my first life, I'd attended without realizing that the man arguing with the officials about emergency supplies would eventually become the commander of Northline. Garran had been there. Three days from now, I would see him again. This time, I knew exactly who he was. And this time, if I could help it, I would never let myself love him.