JAY'S POV:
I hear Cory's voice carry through headquarters before I can see him. He storms inside like a mad man and whirls around until he sees me. It's like he breathes a sigh of relief when he does. I throw my arms around him, holding onto him for dear life. Cory does the same thing. We don't have to say anything to know that we have forgiven each other. This is enough.
"Your dad?" Cory asks me.
I shake my head, indicating how bad it is.
"At least we stopped this," I reply. "He would have wanted that."
Cory nods, still holding onto me and caressing my neck. I tell him who's in the prison cell. There's no 'I told you so'. We could use that accusation against each other many times over, but it would get us nowhere. Instead, Cory makes a request I'm very reluctant to listen to.
"Let me talk to him," Cory insists.
"No," I say sternly. "I think that's a very bad idea."
Cory rolls his eyes. "Let me talk to him," he repeats, giving me a look that's just as stern. "I don't care if you watch. I just need to talk to him. I need to know why."
I take a deep breath.
"Fine then," I say. "But only five minutes. No more. And I still don't like it."
Cory kisses my cheek. "I know you don't," he answers. "But thanks for understanding."
I instruct the guards to step aside let Cory go to Marc's cell, where only the bars separate them. I'm not about to let the man I love get any closer than that. Preferably, I want Cory out of headquarters and far away from these people.
As soon as Marc sees Cory coming, his whole face lights up. It makes me feel sick.
"Cory!" Marc exclaims, coming as close as the cell will allow.
Cory is visibly uncomfortable with such a welcome.
"I'm so glad you came," Marc continues with the most annoying smirk I've ever seen. "I was hoping to see you."
"I didn't come here for your sake," Cory snaps and Marc's head draws back a bit. "I came because I needed to look you in the eye and ask you how you can justify this?! This place might not be perfect, maybe even far from it, but what the hell gives you the right to come in here and play God? What gives you the right to start destroying everything we've worked so hard for all these years?"
Finally, Marc stops smiling. His affection for Cory is still painfully obvious even if Cory's words anger him.
"It was the only way," Marc replies simply.
"You had my best friend killed!" Cory yells.
This time, Marc looks eerily unfazed, clearly believing in the righteousness of his actions.
"She wasn't there for you—"
"She was there for everybody!" Cory exclaims, interrupting.
Marc shakes his head. "You don't have to understand," he says. "It's okay. I'm glad you're okay. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I'd had you killed."
In response, Cory just stares at him, without replying. I step in to tell him it's time to leave, but before I get to say anything, Cory meets my eyes, marching out of the room.
"Congratulations," Marc says dryly. "How does it feel?"
He might be behind bars, but no one has won. He has taken so much from me, including Sadie and possibly my clever but stubborn dad. And he almost took Cory away from me, too.
I frown. "No matter how you look at it, none of us are winners when innocent people die, Marc. Surely, you get that."
Fighting to keep an uncaring look on his face, Marc chooses not to answer me.
"Maybe you don't believe me, but I understand why you did this," I continue, and he raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps you'll be glad to know I'm working to change things and improve conditions for all of the returned. I'm one of you. If you think I've ever forgotten that, you're wrong. How could I forget?"
Marc isn't impressed. "And yet you've followed your dad's orders blindly," he replies.
I have to take a deep breath. "Maybe that's what easiest to assume. Yes, I've followed his orders. He did after all make sure this camp was created and has survived so far. That's a heavy responsibility. I may not always agree with my dad's decisions – in fact, there are very few things we agree on – but we all owe him and Sadie a great debt for all they've done for us. None of this would have been possible without them."
Marc turns away from me so I can't see the expression on his face.
"I suppose you won't be surprised to learn that your punishment is expulsion from camp. I can't allow you to continue living here since you're still considered a threat to camp security. And yet, you should be getting a harder punishment considering that you murdered in cold blood, fully aware of what you were doing."
In response to this, Marc sighs, his back still turned to me. "At least Cory is safe," he points out, no doubt to poke at me.
I don't answer, but I want to yell in his face for having the audacity to even mention Cory's name.
Surprising myself, I'm able to toil my temper and speak in a normal tone of voice.
"Cory is fine, yes. But no thanks to you. He's a skilled soldier how knows how to behave in the face of an emergency – unlike your rebel friends."
Marc says nothing after that.
I shake my head and decide it's time to leave. I don't want to look at his face a moment longer.
In the morning, Marc and his fellow rebels are escorted to the main gate. Including Peter. After much heated discussion, we decided it wasn't right to kill them. It would only make martyrs of them, so instead we've decided to banish them from camp and leave them to fend for themselves. It's a harsh fate in this world, but they can't be allowed to stay and spread more misinformation in camp. We'll have a hard time stopping the rumors that the cure is fallible. Some will continue to insist that the returned are evil and others will continue to insist that we don't do enough for them. It's a difficult conundrum we'll have to try and deal with going forward. We have to believe the truth will win out in the end.
Marc and his friends walk through the gate, hesitantly at first. It's very possible that they fear what awaits them out there. They would be wise to do so.
Peter walks without looking back, holding the hand of his girlfriend. He has chosen his side.
Marc, on the other hand, turns around to take one last look at Cory, who looks away, refusing to meet his gaze.
I cork my gun, eyes fixed on Marc. He glances at me trying to glare, except the fear makes it less than convincing. Then he walks, not daring to look back again. They all walk and become smaller and smaller until they are nothing but tiny dots on the horizon. It's still so early that the sky has a red and orange glow as the sun rises higher and higher.
While we watch, Cory moves closer to me, his hand landing softly on my back. He's been quiet the entire morning, but I know he understands my decision and he hasn't fought me on it. In fact, Cory is a great support to me.
My dad dies from the stroke a couple of days later and his passing makes me the new general. No one poses a challenge to me. I meet a lot of support instead. My men all support me without question, but it seems like a lot of other people support me because they think it's very symbolic to have a returned as camp leader. It signals hope that we might really resurrect our world someday. Another step on the way is to get camp back on its feet.
I hold my mother's hand at my dad's funeral. I know she's in pain and it's difficult to say goodbye, but my mother doesn't let the grief paralyze her and she throws herself into her work instead. She helps distribute food around camp and make sure everybody gets what they need. Just like my dad, my mom isn't always keen on showing her emotions, but she does cry during those lonely night when only few people can see.
Through the whole ordeal, Cory is my rock. He knows how tough it is to lose a parent and he is there to hold my hand when I need him to.
I also spend some time with Jason and Elena and their daughter, Alma. She's the one that really holds the promise of our future.
Overall, it takes us some time to get things back in order after the rebellion. Luckily, most of the returned are more interested in getting their friends and families back than raising another rebellion. Samir's even managed to speak to his family although they're still very hesitant to believe that it's really him and not some evil spirit. Grief does horrible things to people. It has also done it's work to me, to Cory, to Jason, and everybody else in here, but we've done what we can to keep ourselves together and be ready for the next challenge. We have to be if we want to survive. Even with zombies and boneys becoming less and less of a threat, we continue to prove that humans are in the end our own worst enemy. It's the same fight we've always been fighting.
We've come so far now that we can begin to build the world we want to live in. I've assembled a new council and a new command at headquarters, where there are as many returned as there are living.
The only way we can make this happen is if we start to treat each other like equals. Marc was right about that part, but along the way, he got blinded by his vision of a better world. It made him dangerous to everyone, including himself.
So in order to rebuild, I make sure everyone understands the importance of sticking together. Taking over as general for my dad is perhaps the biggest challenge I've faced. I don't know how he did it, but I can only try to follow his example. I'll do my very best to make sure we don't fail. We've already come this far.
We've established a small cemetery in camp, too. It becomes the their final resting place of everyone who dies here. In fact, I used to have a place in there, too. Cory showed me where and it was one of the stranger experiences of my life to see a headstone with my own name on it. Today, though, we're back to put the innocent lives lost in the rebellion to rest and to put yet another friend in the ground.
Cory's eyes are distant while he stares at the fresh pile of earth where we've just buried Sadie. There are tears on his cheeks, falling silently. I take his hand. In response, he leans his head against my shoulder, and we stay there, watching the grave in front of us, watching the cross bearing her name, and the white rose we managed to find to honor her memory.
Cory and I walk away, still hand in hand to the edge of the fence. Few people except the guards come here. It feels great to hold his hand again and to finally not argue anymore. I imagine us as a normal couple walking through the park on a rainy day like this, maybe getting a steaming cup of coffee on the way home to our apartment in the city. We don't have an umbrella, since they're hard to come by now, but it doesn't matter. The rain looks more like tiny pearls trickling down. Tiny droplets settle in Cory's hair and on his face. I lean in, taking in the scent of his wet hair, kissing it softly. He runs his fingers across my cheeks and across my lips, parting them slightly.
"Never again," he tells me in a whisper.
"Never again," I promise and kiss his fingers that are still touching my lips.
We share a real kiss after that, full of everything held back, and full of all the emotion we have for each other. His lips are warm and familiar, and it truly feels like home.