The Risen: Dawning (14 page)

He hides me in my weakness with his arms around me. His one hand presses my head to his shoulder and the other pulls my back toward his chest. His head rests on the top of mine and I am thankful to not be able to read his face right now. He allows me to huddle there absorbing his strength, and stability, listening to the rush of his heart speaking its own telling of his fears. I stare at the honey-hued skin of his arms, marveling at their strength, and yet, how gently he holds me to him as if I really am as fragile as I feel right now.

“You came for me.” I whisper into his chest. My voice giving away more of my weakness than I am ready to admit.

His silence makes me hold my breath. He is so still beneath me with only the sounds of his heart talking to me. I wonder for a moment if the price I must pay for my disobediences will cost my soul too much.

“I will always come for you, Helena.” He finally answers me. His voice is just as weak as mine.

“I just don’t know if you are living to die or dying to live anymore. All I know is you are killing me with it.” I feel his voice echo through his chest from which I am using to hide.

It vibrates something deep in my own core with its flatness. The high wall of protection it comes from behind strips me of my own walls. I feel my first tear falling from my payment. Our golden tilt-a-whirl of a romance is spinning away from me, and I feel him slipping from me, all while I stand here desperately clinging to us.

He drops his arms from around me, side stepping me. He never looks at me, but keeps his eyes straight ahead when the sounds of the others’ steps reach us. I am left cold, and alone, without him to hold me. My mortar cracks. My world crumbles.

T
he two groups stand with an imaginary line drawn between us. Apprehensive greetings are being exchanged as we each verbally test the other out. J.D. does not bother to hide his annoyance, and distrust, with any small talk. Lawless does our talking with a forced cheer. His voice holds his normal charm, but it does not reach his body language. He is showing that his openness is not to be confused as an invitation, blocking Aimes and me with his body from those before us. Rhett stands to his left with his hands resting on his belt buckle in total ease with the situation. One look into his eyes will show you a different story.

He is memorizing every feature of the group ahead of us. Every movement they make. Every mannerism that would alarm him to danger before the danger has time to form. J.D. may draw your death out, but Rhett will just kill you, and then go about his day as he had planned before you inconvenienced him. I am not sure which one of them scares me anymore, for that matter, if they even scare me at all.

The one male we had not noticed until now is named Simon. The tall African American male acts as their voice to the questions Lawless asks them. He offers no more of a welcome than he is receiving. He stares between Rhett and Lawless to capture my gaze, ignoring any attempts to gain his attention from others. It sets our men at greater discord and I can feel the tension surrounding us.

“That was some stunt you pulled.” He says to me, ignoring the building agitation he is causing. “Name is Simon.” He reaches through them to extend me his hand.

Rhett’s eyes go the cold color that we have learned to avoid. Lawless tilts his head from side to side slowly as if he is working out a sore muscle group in his neck. The male posturing builds with Simon’s boldness.

“It wasn’t a stunt. I couldn’t stand by and just watch, is all.” I take his hand in my own with the normal sign of greeting, hoping to ease down the men in front of me. “Helena. This is Aimes.” I gesture to the blonde pixie beside me who is beaming with amusement at the situation. Her sense of humor may be a bit twisted.

“And the two men you just sealed your fate with are Rhett and Lawless.” She motions to the men in front of us that are no longer trying to hide their annoyance at the disrespect shown to them. “J.D. back here wanted you dead from go, so you may want to slow your roll on the death wishes.” She wears her sweetest smile. It even reaches her eyes with its charm. Honestly.

Simon smirks, taking it all in, as his stare roams over each male figure, not bothering to hide the dare. I know from years with Lawless that the tilt of his head is the first sign of his anger. The second clue is his tongue dancing along his back molars before sliding along his front teeth behind clamped lips. The sniffing from him is his final build up. It signals Marxx to join his right side with his own gestures of annoyance. It is now a bomb waiting to explode, and the detonator is one wrong word or look from Simon, who seems to enjoy pushing their buttons.

The other male steps in between the standoff with an open arm smile, still careful to not break the imaginary line. “Let’s all just breathe here. I mean it was a pretty amazing thing to watch from this side here. One little girl against that whole mess? Seven men and only the girl had the courage to step out. That is crazy!” He says with amused embarrassment. Guess who just spoke the wrong word. Gone on, guess. I’ll wait.

“What are you trying to say? You calling the rest of us what, exactly?” J.D.’s calm voice holds more anger than a shout, letting the question hang in the air. It rolls outward sneaking up in a warning of caution. Once J.D. gives the signal, this will all go south fast, and Rhett smiles with the knowledge of it.

“No, no I am not calling anyone anything. I was just explaining Simon’s amusement is all.” His voice trails off as J.D. steps up to fill the gap between Rhett and Lawless. Ross’ shaggy light brown hair is showing the stress of the day with the many runs of his hands through it. Pale teal eyes seek some hint of a path to closure from me as the men face him.

“I’m Ross,” he extends his hand to J.D. in an apology. J.D. pretends to not notice it, still staring at the man. Rhett tries to hide his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. He fails.

“This is Leslie.” Ross motions, undiscouraged by the insult, to the red-head beside him. She is as annoyed as I am with their male egos. She gives a simple nod, and a wide fake smile, to further prove it. I think I may love her.

“Well now that we are all fine friends here, where you folks be holding up at?” J.D. smiles, but it has no warmth to it.

“And why the hell would we tell you that?” Simon smiles his own empty smile.

“Well as I see it, your padre there left you for dead. My girl saved your asses. I see it as you owe us. Unless you just want to camp out here till someone from your camp remembers where they left you.” he shrugs “Doesn’t bother me one way or another.”

He makes some small gesture that sets the men to action. Whatever it was, the rest of us missed it as we all react to Lawless, Rhett, and Marxx pushing their way through into the building. Simon follows with a small skip of step to catch up to them. Ross glances at Aimes, Chapel, and me for some clue, but we have none to offer him.

J.D. places his hands in his front pockets, and rocks on his heels, with male glee. “Like I said, you owe us.”

Ross’ and Leslie’s faces fill with the look of disbelief as the sounds of destruction drift out of the store. Destruction brought on by my attempted efforts to save them. Everything that happens to this group now is my fault. I brought them into our world without their permission. Now they are being forced to accept the actions of a man that holds only one truth to be true. His.

With annoyance, I walk towards the open doors only to have J.D. grab me, setting those nerve-wracking eyes on me. “I think you’ve had just about enough fun for one day, Sweetheart.” His voice holds so much anger it is almost a whisper, reminding me of his earlier whisperings. We stare at each other over this new divide forming between us. Our foundation slowly cracks under its weight.

“Nothing much left in there.” Marxx says, breaking through our standoff. “Looks like whoever boarded the place up went through it pretty well.”

“Pretty much just basic shit.” Lawless joins the discussion, exiting the store with a relaxed walk. His eyes dart from me to J.D., who still is holding on to my arm. They hover to Aimes quickly for some insight before returning to us. “A few jugs of water, basic camping gear, plenty of tourist crap.”

“Any food?” J.D. asks.

“No.” Marxx answers in his limited style of vocabulary.

“Well at least none left on the shelves.” Lawless adds, leaving the unspoken words open to interpretation and J.D. interprets.

“Rip it apart.” He says, with his voice calm and face blank, still holding me in place.

Lawless pivots, patting Marxx on the chest signaling him to follow when J.D. pulls the next scheme from his dark depths.

“No. Not you two.” he turns to the man behind me “You.”

Chapel exhales, running a hand slowly over the lower half of his face. To refuse this would mark him forever in their books. It will make him slip from their trust, which was deadly before this new world. Now it will be devastating.

J.D. knows that this is on the boundary of Chapel’s comfort zone. This is his punishment for helping me. His punishment for being too weak to stop me. J.D. knows the man has been in an internal war with his ideas of morality since the world tilted. Someone who once held life so precious in the encasement of his family is now standing alone in the darkness, seeking any light to guide him home. He wears his ghosts like a shroud of many weights that grows heavier with each dawn that finds him. He has become nothing more than a melancholy phantom of his former self. Now he is being told to wade deeper into the darkness of what is left of his humanity.

Lawless and Marxx watch the scene, wearing their masks of disinterest to cover their thoughts. J.D. keeps his eyes locked on his target, wearing thin the shield of shelter from which Chapel uses to hide. Too long of a delay is just as damning as a no. The clock is running.

“There really is no need for all this.” Ross steps forward to ease down the tension. I have figured out his role in their group already. Leslie’s eyes roll to confirm it. “She did save us. I am sure we can all work something out here that would best suit everyone.”

As J.D.’s grip tightens on my arm, I make a mental note to thank Ross for that little reminder, again. The man may as well be handing J.D. a shovel.

“She must have one hell of a Guardian Angel.” he says with a chuckle.

“I lost all my Angels a long time ago.” I jerk free of J.D. as eyes turn to me with secret knowledge. Their anger simmers some at the implications of my words. “Where is Rhett?”

“Testing out his new knife.” Lawless answers me, as his mask slips around the edges, with the tremble of his voice.

I refuse to give in to it. I refuse to allow his pity to pour out my own pain. “On what?”

“Whatever gets in his way…” Marxx deep gravel of a voice leaves more questions than answers, stirring panic finally within Ross.

We find Simon and Rhett in a classic old west scenario. All that was missing is the well-known sound effect for the situation, which Aimes provides for us at our arrival. Rhett’s back is to us, blocking Simon from their already packed supply run, in anticipation of our leader’s next move. I do not know if that was what the standoff is about or not, but it does allow J.D. to, once again, crack Chapel’s resolve.

“Go.” J.D. motions with a head nod, letting the man know he has not forgotten his test.

Marxx and Lawless mirror Chapels steps, blocking Ross and Leslie with their own movements from the bags and our man. Their hands fold together in front of their bodies, or tuck into pockets, while watching the other two for any resistance in their false relaxed stance again.

“Wait, let’s just all step back here and think about this.” Ross plays his role well. What others may see as weakness, is his strength. He does not have to know our men well to see what is about to happen. Simon will never allow Chapel to reach those bags peacefully. Once the fight starts, Ross knows how his group will fare. His role is to make sure that does not happen, no matter the cost to his pride, the most precious thing to a man. That is what makes Ross stronger than any of those before us.

“Let me just talk to them for a moment. I am sure we can all work something out that makes us all happy. OK?” He does not wait for an answer but walks forward with palms upright with hopes of safe passage between Marxx and Lawless. Neither man moves to spare him any room, making him well aware of how fast this could still go upside down with the shoulder jabs they place upon him.

Rhett melts backwards to us. He never turns his back on Simon as Ross passes him, making it clear which male Rhett finds more interest in with one final insult to Ross. Leslie walks around Aimes and me using us as a shield between her and J.D. To her credit, she never glances back to be sure of their positions. We are separating into our own groups again with another imaginary line drawn.

“We ain’t leaving without those bags.” J.D. tells us. The words cause the men to do some type of preparations, allowing Simon to see that our course is not altering. Rhett nods, rolling his shoulders one by one. Marxx flexes his arms, crossing them in front of him before pulling them back. Lawless just waits. Still in his false relaxed stance, he stands waiting and watching. At most, the tell-tale sharp inhale of breath, but otherwise, he is relaxed and waiting.

I grow tired of it all. I am tired of the fighting to live. I am tired of the fighting within and now the fighting with others. I am just tired of the fighting. Every day is a new struggle, or an illusion of security, and I just can’t help but wonder how much longer we will last. How will we last, not only in this new world, but also with one another? Already our bonds are cracking under the strain of it.

Friendships are faltering, as one must choose where to obey, and where to question. Every day we are being tested under some new paranoia from J.D. with his constant threats upon us. My skin is growing thin with it all. My nerves are fraying, and perhaps Lawless is right, as I find myself picking another fight just for the release.

“What do you think is exactly in those bags that will make all this worth it?” My voice is as hollow as my soul.

“She has a point.” Aimes adds in her own voice, fresh with annoyance. “So you go all rumble fest, get the bags, high-five testosterone each other, then what?”

Four sets of eyes are upon us now. Only Rhett keeps his eyes forward on the other group, but he is very aware of it all. Chapel’s eyes shine in solidarity with us while the others rest upon us, judging our words.

“We make this place secure. We settle in here.” J.D.’s voice is once again serpent sharp. His eyes the blank pool of emptiness that holds plenty of meaning. Aimes is tip-toeing a line that she has never danced before.

“A rest stop? By the interstate? Where plenty of others will be desperately driving by?” Aimes’ voice lowers to a hissing whisper with her frustrations. “What part of that says “good thinking J.D.” to you? No one will ever find us here!”