Controlling the Dead (23 page)

I sigh and take the boiling water from the fire, pouring it in the tub. It will be great to get in a good bath before we leave.

“Hurry up, I want to take one, too,” Gwen urges.

*

I barely get to sleep before the bed bounces. Exhaust fumes fill my senses.

“Mac?”

“Hey, I need to tell you something. Be ready at the van.”

Gwen speaks up, “You’re back already?” She shakes her head as she makes her way out of bed. The dawn is lighting the sky outside. “You must have driven way too fast.”

“Yep,” he agrees. “I need to take that box of supplies to Guido and shove it up his ass.”

*

Gwen and I make our way to the van and place the last packs inside. Kale shows up, appearing like he just rolled out of bed. Gwen gets in the drivers seat. “I know he’ll be tired, might as well drive myself.”

“Thanks, Gwen.”

We wait for a half hour with the rising sun. “What on earth is taking him so long?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, “I’m going to go see. I’d like to get there before noon.”

She nods, “I’ll go with you.” Kale leans against the van and rubs his eyes some more.

As we’re taking the stairs to Guido’s loft, foreboding courses through me, I don’t know what it is until I open the door, and see Guido pointing a gun at Mac.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
IVE

“Chicka, ‘bout time yew showed up. I got ta tell yew, I don’t like this, at all. As a warnin’…” The world narrows to the echoed gunshot. Time slows as my hearing drifts. A piercing scream stings my ears. It’s Gwen, but she sounds miles away. Mac’s eyes go wide and blood spills between the fingers splayed across his stomach. “Yew don wanna come back, hear? I kill yew.” I barely hear him as I stand, shocked, watching blood leak from Mac.

I don’t even have a weapon with me. Guido has taken me by surprise. I will zombies into action as my body electrifies. Finally, I run to Mac. He drops to the floor on his stomach, still holding it, and blood pools across the floor. “Kan,” he says, his voice thick with pain. My eyes burn and my hands tremble.

“Shh,” I whisper. Gunshots sound outside. More than I’ve ever heard at one time. Guido laughs.

“Yew think I didn’t think ‘bout that? I don want nothin’ to do wit yew. Go and don’t come back. Don’t need yer help, get it?”

Ignoring him, I rip my shirt over my head, leaving my tank. Gwen helps me staunch the bleeding. She is bawling, getting hysterical and babbling at Mac.

“Gwen! Help me get him to the van! Now!” My voice sounds far away. Maybe she isn’t the only one getting hysterical. Guido bends down and takes off Mac’s dog tags and throws them across the room. They skid across the floor to a pair of boots. Dalton stands there as if he wants to be anywhere else as he takes one of the tags and tosses the other to me. “What the hell?” I scream at him.

“Don’t need Mac boy no more, he dead. Git it?” Nastiness pours off Guido, and my stomach dips, but I manage to glare.

“Fuck you! You’re going to regret this.”

“Nah, don think so. Don’t need yew spreadin’ rumors of shit!” he spits out, pissed. As Mac said, Guido doesn’t want his kingdom to go away. I don’t know why this is happening, and the only thing stopping me from going on a rampage is Mac’s bleeding. We need to get him somewhere. Not to mention the families who live here, but that’ll have to be another day.

Gwen takes one of Mac’s arms, and I take the other. We hobble him out as he bleeds and sweats profusely. I glare at Guido and Dalton and make sure they see all the rage and revenge I have stored up. Just for them.

*

As we make it to the parking lot, I yell to Kale. “Get in and drive!”

We get Mac situated in the back of the van and sit in the floorboard beside him. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his face pale. Gwen calms down and lifts his shirt, staring at the wound. She watches his face and then turns her gaze to me in deep sorrow. Fresh tears spring to my eyes. “Please hurry. Nastas can help him,” I tell Kale urgently.

Gwen’s shoulders shake in silent sobs as she squeezes Mac’s hand. Kale peels out of the parking lot.

“Sunshine.”

Through my tears, he appears like he’s under water. I wipe him with my bloody shirt. “Stay with me, we’ll be there soon. They can help you.”

He shakes his head. “Gut shot,” he whispers in raggedness that I feel in my bones.

“Yes, I’m trying to keep it from bleeding out!” I sob, and once it starts I can’t stop. Slick blood covers my hands, and it only makes me cry more. “
Why didn’t I kill that bastard?
” I scream my rage and it hangs in the van.

“M…phine…in…ag.” Mac chokes out, reminding me of exactly why I didn’t off Guido right then and there. I search his face in vain, hoping to see him mocking his pain like he did when he was shot in the ass. He swallows audibly, “Bag.” Oh. His bag. It’s on the other floorboard. He must have put it in here when he got back. I open it and dig around. He has medical supplies in here—a few IV bags of saline, and that’s when I see what he’s talking about, he has gotten little bottles of liquid antibiotics and morphine.

I rip open a fresh syringe. He watches me with bright, glazed eyes. His hand moves to the syringe. “A lot,” he says, pointing to a line on the syringe. He never uses pain medication on himself. More tears well and course down my cheeks.

I fill the syringe to the place he indicated. Pain is thick in his eyes. His body shakes as tears stream down my face. Is he going into shock? I look at the inside of his arm, locating a vein. Making sure there aren’t any air bubbles, I stick the needle in. I pull out a little to make sure I hit the vein and push the plunger.

He relaxes, but the pain in his aqua eyes flashes through them unwaveringly. He’s still bleeding. Still sweating. Breathing roughly. Gwen’s sobs fill the van as the tires speed over the pavement.

I wipe his forehead again, crying freely. I run my hand through his downy soft curls.

He goes in and out of consciousness. With all the blood he’s lost, he won’t make it. Even if we get to Nastas, there is nothing he can do. Gwen knows it, too. I’m not sure about the damage that’s been done, but internal bleeding is a given. Doesn’t that need surgery? Maybe a transplant of some kind?

I don’t know how much time has passed. The van fills with our crying. At one point, Gwen breaks down and begs Mac to fight, to stay with us. She sobs into his chest, keeping hold of his hand, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing his face.

“Ma.” She looks into his face, his eyes. “Don’t cry,” he smiles and touches her cheek. She holds his hand there. “I love you,” he whispers, which only makes us sob more.

His eyes close slowly and I think he is gone, but they open suddenly, looking at me. Worry flashes across his face. His eyes widen and then close as his breath becomes ragged.

“Mac! Mac! My baby boy, don’t leave me again,” Gwen blubbers. I can’t see through my tears, and I wipe at them angrily to see him.

He opens his own, “I’m here.” That’s when he stops breathing. She glances at their hands as if his have gone slack.

“Maaaaac!” she screams, burying her face into him.  Placing my forehead next to him, his body is warm, so warm. I’m bawling and vaguely notice Gwen grieves and sobs right along with me. My body wracks out horrible sounds. Gwen chokes out over and over, “No, you’ll be okay…you’ll be okay.”

He’s far from okay.

*

I don’t know how long we cry over Mac’s body before the door opens and the van dings from the keys left in the ignition. I’m aware of voices, but I don’t hear them. Someone tries to pick me up. A fresh scream and crying breaks out from someone. It only triggers my body to rack with more sobs.

Someone pries my hands off Mac. His eyes are still open as if he wanted one last look at the fucked up world. Gwen’s screams cease as my tears start flowing fresh at the sight until a prick of a needle, and then I don’t know anything at all.

*

I wake to conversation outside the tent. My eyes are puffy. My body protests when I move from a drugged sleep. Unwrapping myself from a thick sleeping bag, I don’t have on many clothes, and all of Mac’s—
the
blood is washed away. After putting on clothes, I go back to sleep.

It’s worse when I wake up again. My body aches to the point of unbearable. I unzip the tent and everyone turns to peer at me. Grief consumes all our faces. Gwen is nowhere in sight, but there is only one person I
want
to see, but first I need to see someone else.

I clear my throat. “Where’s Mago?” My voice is hoarse and dry. Reece points to a far off tent.

“Suga. Yew should get sumthin’ to eat and drank.” Glinda stands up from her squat on the ground. I shake my head and walk to the tent. I don’t bother announcing myself as I unzip it, uninvited. Mago is reading something, and I fall to my knees beside him.

“Is he here?” I whisper.

Casting me a regretful expression, he says, “Kansas, I offer my condolences, but he is not.”

“No.” I grip his arm. “He can be lingering, right? Just like—” It’s too fucking weird, and I can’t even say Malachi’s name out loud.

“It does not work that way. Everything is indefinite.” Familiar arms circle around me. I turn and hide my face in Rudy’s shoulder. Eventually, I pull away from his embrace and we walk in silence to my tent.

I lie there for hours. It’s dark and silent. Rudy doesn’t leave me. Bless him. “He’s really gone,” I say more to myself than to him.

In my periphery, he watches from across the tent and nods. “Yes, Darlin’.” His voice breaks, and when I finally look at him, grief hits me so strong, like a lightning bolt. I take in a shaky breath and crawl to him. Redness rings his eyes. Even though they downplayed their friendship, it was a strong one.

“I’m so sorry, Rudy. Did they bury him?”

He nods. “Under a willow. I wanted them to wait for you, but Gwen—” Sucking in a deep breath, he continues, “But Gwen needed it.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay.” A numbness flows into my limbs, efficiently covering the guilt. I fiddle with the bracelet, and a tear escapes down my cheek. He rubs it away. “How long have we been here?”

“You pulled in yesterday, before noon.” Kale must have been going way too fast. I’ve slept for most of the time. Why do I feel so exhausted?

Grabbing his arm, I pull him over to the palette and wrap my arms around him. We remain silent as we comfort each other and eventually his breathing evens out.

*

I wake the next morning, smelling eggs. With a grumbling stomach, I go outside and find Gwen has a fire going, cooking. Her eyes are puffy and swollen as Maddie helps her do whatever she needs.

She softens when she spots me. “Oh Kan, you want some eggs?” I nod and watch as people rise for the day. Reece and Glinda sit beside me.

“Hey little lady, how are you feeling?” he asks, concerned. I can tell he feels Mac’s absence, too. Everyone here is used to losing people, it’s standard in the fucked-up world we find ourselves in. That is going to change.

“I’ve been better,” I say. “But like everyone else, I’ve been worse.”

“We’re so sorry, Suga. We loved him, too.” It dawns on me they think I’m grieving in a different way.

I smile sadly at her. “I know.” I stare at the fire as Rudy sits with us. He is a little better this morning, but he stares at the fire much like I’m doing. Gwen starts putting eggs on big leaves. Maddie helps by passing them out, but she saunters our way first. She hands Rudy a leaf and smiles at him.

He gives me his leaf. “Thanks.” I can’t bring myself to eat as I stare at the steaming yellow fluffiness. “Uh, maybe I’m not so hungry after all.”

“You should eat,” Reece and Rudy say together. I take a few bites and swallow without chewing. They are heavy going down, like rocks in my stomach.

“There’s plenty when that’s done. The ice is melted, and we need to eat them today and tomorrow,” Gwen informs everyone.

I down some water. “Tell me what the plan is, later?” I ask as I stand. They look worried, but nod. Walking to my tent, I catch sight of a willow in the distance with freshly turned dirt. Changing direction, I walk to the tree. I lie down next to the dirt pile and stare into the branches. I don’t know how long I lie there before I feel silly and walk to my tent.

Gwen comes in a little later. She sighs. “You know? It’s weird mourning your youngest child for the second time.” Of course it’d be weird. She thought he was dead for four years. She puts his bag in front of me and smiles.

“When I saw him again I thought a ghost had appeared. You know the first thing he said to me?”

I blink at her and she continues, “He said, ‘I met the one and I’m going to marry her.’”

My stomach turns, thinking about me telling him what he felt for me wasn’t love. Who the fuck am I to tell someone how they feel? A tear escapes down my cheek. I swipe at it. “Gwen, I—”

She holds up her hand. “I know, but I thought you should know I don’t think you should be feeling guilty over it. That’s a hard thing to get over. Grief is one thing, but when you mix in guilt, it’ll eat at you for the rest of your life. I know all about that.”

I don’t know what to say. She smiles. “Might as well get used to having me around, cause I ain’t going anywhere, child.”

“I hardly knew anything about him or what he did for the coalition.” My voice chokes up.

“Listen here, Kan. You knew what he wanted you to know. I lived with a man in covert operations for twenty years before he passed in active duty and Mac followed his father’s footsteps, but I’m proud of him anyway. They lived and breathed to conceal shit and drive me crazy. So, I don’t want you driving yourself crazy over it. Truth is, you’re more than likely better off not knowing.” She watches me for a second before patting my knee. Her breath is ragged as she drags it into her lungs. “Oh hell, I need to get out of here before I start crying and fussing again.”