The Risen: Dawning (15 page)

He looks to me as if I am to blame for her new found backbone. I cannot stop the smile I feel spreading across my face as the pixie finally shows her claws. Sharp, sarcastic claws.

“Look at them. That Simon is the only one with any inch of balls and this is the crew they depend on to send out to scavenge. Obviously, they are somewhere safe. Safe, as in, not the side of the road with a peek-a-boo fence for protection and three well-trained attack monkeys.” She says even as Rhett makes a wounded noise at her directional comment.

“Instead of doing this dick measuring contest, we should convince them that they need us J.D. We don’t need a whole new group, but a nice addition or two can make life a lot easier.” Something about my words makes Lawless do another of his anger testing sharp inhales as Chapel watches it all, silently trying to warn me.

It is not only Chapel who notices the discomfort though. J.D. sneers in our direction with some twisted amusement. “I don’t think your boy there likes the idea of adding any new bodies to this crew of ours. You in need of some new snuggle buddies Barbie?”

His blow is meant to hurt. He knows now my own fears, and like a sharp blade, he slices me with them. I stare into Lawless’ searching eyes and for once, I say nothing. I pray it says everything.

“This crew needs the help.” Chapel’s voice tests the waters gently with its volume. “We will run out of ammo soon. Only a matter of time until we are overrun again, being this exposed, if we are not discovered first. This is not a sound place to set up. So, we either go place to place hoping one of them will stick, or we see what they have and try that out. No one is saying we have to stay. A decent meal, a good night’s sleep, and then we can decide what to do.” He shrugs, his voice growing stronger with more weight as the other males listen to his words with sincere interest.

It is now I realize how little they rely on Chapel or his opinions. How very shy he feels around them. When did this divide grow, separating us all into our own little worlds, even as we fight to live in this world together?

Rhett, Marxx, and Lawless all look to J.D. for his support, or refusal, of the plan just as Aimes pointed out earlier. She and I exchange our own looks over their behavior and wait as the gears turn in J.D.’s head.

His mind is engaging in a civil war and it is easy to read on his face as he battles between the desires to keep us separate from all others, and yet, the undisputed need for more protection. There is an exchange of facial expressions between him and Lawless, that only they seem to understand, as Rhett and Marxx watch their silent codes. Their own private language of exclusion invented to speak across a room or side to side. Lawless tilts his head and shrugs, giving approval with the understanding he will do whatever the other man wants. Marxx and Rhett nod, backing the silent plan.

“Well alright. Let’s go plan us a sleep-over kiddies.” J.D. says with more excitement than his face holds.

Aimes, Chapel and I trail behind the four men as our group navigates through the wreckage of the store to the group ahead of us. Simon watches our progress with a guarded expression, signaling for the others to notice. Ross’ thousand watt smile is instantly on and beaming in our direction. His face is a direct opposite of his other two friends, making it stand out even more. It is nice to feel welcomed.

“So Cupcakes, seems we have us an impasse here. As far as impasses go, we seem to be on the winning side.” J.D. smiles that good ol’ boy smile that can be taken in a thousand different ways. Simon is not taking it well.

“Is that so? Just how do you come to that conclusion?” He asks with sincere disgust for J.D.

“Well seems to me, that you’re the only real man here for your team. Hell, my girl has more balls than your boy there. Where do you think this will really land your team if we decide to play ball?” It is not really a compliment that J.D. has given me. It is a bus with a large horn. It just ran me over and it is slipping into reverse for good measure.

Simon’s eyes lock with mine spreading that slow, masculine, fantasy-filling smile of his. “That she does.”

Ross’ smile only falters a little before returning to its blinding state.

“I’m thinking that also you may be the only real tough guy for your whole set up. That must be hard having to take care of everything all by your little lonesome there. Setting it all up for just one little troop like us to take it all apart. You being left behind like this, after all you have done for them. That can’t sit well with you now.” J.D. draws out each word letting it sink and soak in any paper cuts of a wound Simon may have.

“I’m just thinking it might be nice for you to have some back up is all. A little support in all your efforts. Maybe even the chance to have some men around just to escape all this lack of spine you seem to be surrounded with.” J.D. smiles as his mind games start to build.

“That could be helpful in a few ways.” An exaggerated southern drawl flirts into the conversation and it is Aimes and my turn to snap our heads around.

Leslie is smiling her own style of blinding charm our way and she aims it at Lawless in his waiting stance. He returns the smile, letting his eyes glide over her with pure male interest that sets my heart back a beat or two.

“Oh hell, no she didn’t,” Aimes whispers in my ear with as much shock at the woman’s boldness as with his reaction.

“Someone must’ve totally just missed the zombie death machine a few moments ago is all I’m saying.” She says in a mock whisper letting it carry loud enough to those around us. “Maybe we don’t want to visit crazy land after all. There are some serious death wishes in that camp!”

“There are some serious death wishes in our camp.” Lawless answers back to her. His eyes are still gliding over Leslie’s body. He keeps his back to us, shutting me out one-step further, as our previous conversation floats in my mind. J.D. smiles at me, watching another slice land on my bruised ego.

Chapel’s hands rest on my shoulders with a gently squeezing massage trying to lower the tension building in my soul. Silence may be golden, but it is one bitch of a thing to obtain.

“I so hate it when the kiddos fight.” Rhett does a small pouty lip as Aimes flashes her favorite one finger salute at him. “Wounded. Really.” A smile dances in his eyes, baiting her for a response.

“Not yet, but give me five good minutes.” She tilts her head in her smile. She radiates sweetness with her “who me?” posture.

“Any time Sweetheart. I’d be more than happy to play with ya.” His own posture hints at things not so sweet, but just as playful.

“You two done?” J.D. cuts through their banter with a winter’s edge in his voice. Rhett’s smile fades in a shrug as he returns to his watchful gaze of those before us.

Simon has stood silently watching the make-up of our circle in the short play we just performed before him. Our conflicts, and bindings, rolling by in our oblivion to whomever may be watching. We have grown so used to being alone for so long. Whatever he saw in our exchanges has relaxed his stance some, even as Ross continues to smile, and Leslie encourages Lawless with her own smirk.

“Let’s talk.” Simon motions for J.D. to step away with him, merging the two groups as the alphas step away to play. Rhett keeps his distance from the two men but refuses to leave too much space between himself and J.D. He pretends to find the tourist items on their rotating shelf suddenly very intriguing. Lawless allows Leslie to slip up beside him, starting a whispered flirting of a conversation, filled with smiles and her soft butterfly touches to his chest. Marxx joins our little circle unsure of whom to protect or block anymore.

“You should totally shank her. Right in that skank face of hers.” Aimes, the picture of warmth and friendship, mutters.

“She’s just testing you. Leave it be.” Chapel’s gentle massage is ramping into forced rotations of my shoulders with his nerves or either his nervousness about mine.

“He knows where he belongs” Marxx’ gravelly deep voice tries to reassure us with a hint of disgust at the show before us.

“Yeah, but does his dick?” Aimes asks, bringing a small laugh from us all at her blunt honesty.

“Dick is a tricky thing.” Marxx looks at our pixie with her catty comment still a smile on his lips.

“I can’t shank her anyway. I dropped my blade outside.” Even as I say it, I am already mentally picturing the satisfaction it would bring me.

“You could always just take my gun again.” Chapel nonchalantly comments, bringing laughter louder this time, forcing its reach to those around us.

Lawless half glances over his shoulder with his mask of indifference fully secure again. The shift in body language is a cold shower to Leslie in her attempts of flirting. Anger fills her eyes in a blatant dare with me, causing my own body language to answer hers. Chapel is no longer even bothering with the pretense of a massage, but simply holding me to him, for whose benefit I am not sure.

“Yeah, dicks are tricky.” Aimes says, staring at Lawless without censor of her emotions. She is ever the best friend.

J.D. and Simon come to some hidden mutual agreement. It seems to be less than mutual depending on whose frown in which you put stock. Both struggle to allow the other to place commands, and suggestions, only confusing the rest of us in our rooted loyalties. Our many bags, plus theirs, are loaded into the truck by Ross, Aimes, and me while Chapel keeps watch over us.

Leslie is Lawless’ new shadow. She follows him closely, never letting an excuse to glance my way slip by her. It makes Aimes whisper constantly “In her face.” into my ear with each battle line drawn like a devil on my shoulder. She whispers it with each lingering touch that Leslie places on the body I have thought of as mine for so long. She hisses it with each of his refusals of acknowledgement for me in his flirting with her. I think it with each smile Leslie is flashing my way.

As their motorcycles are brought out, I stare at the surrounding area swept in the last of fall’s beauty upon the ground. It turns the hillside into a colorful scene as the leaves’ reds blend with the oranges to fade into gentle yellows. It resembles the flickering flames of warm fires. Even as the air bites with cold fingers, the ground holds the illusion of warmth all around us.

It is amusing how we think of fire as comforting. Its bright light burning the darkness away and making us feel secure from the night’s dark secrets lurking around us. Its flowing heat sought after to provide warmth on freezing nights. Its crackling flames are used to fill our bodies with desire. We never see the possibilities of the destruction it can hold until it is too late. Until one spark escapes, stealing all we hold dear in a blazing defiance for our well-being. I watch as Leslie climbs behind Lawless, grasping his waist tight, and I pray the new fire we are each seeking will be gentle with us.

Simon, Ross, Aimes and I squeeze into the length of my truck’s cabin. The men set both Aimes and me slightly uneasy at the closeness of the situation, or perhaps it is just Ross’ smile. It seems to grow when he is nervous, showing more teeth than before. Simon has become a locked chamber of emotions instructing me on where to go. I wonder if he is second-guessing all of this now that it is becoming real. The deep growl of engines tell us there is no turning back now. Not for Simon, and not for me, as I steal one more glance at arms resting where mine used to.

W
e drive in awkward silence brought on by the close proximity of the cab. Even the beaming Ross seems stilled as each mile draws us closer to either a new victory or a new tragedy for both of our sides. Simon is taking us through back roads and winding countryside paths with clipped directions and added avoidance to our conversations. With no one to watch the show, the man that was so eager to flirt just moments ago, is now more of a pouting partner than a fondling flirt. We pass Risen even on these back roads in their statue states slowly awakening upon the noise of our arrival. Rhett doesn’t pass up the chance to toy with them in his twisted ideas of fun. He begins an obstacle course, swerving around and through them with reckless enjoyment of their disposal. It does nothing to encourage peace with Simon as we watch the show in the mirrors of the truck’s doors.

“Are all of you crazy?” Ross is finally forced to give up his smile when Rhett cuts a corner a little too closely, almost becoming the toy himself. It would bring me a certain amount of glee to watch him drop his motorcycle now. Every man needs a little ego check.

“No. Just Rhett. Hells here seems to be extra special touched in a “Hey Y’all, come watch this” style.” Aimes answers with her offhand flair. “Where are we going anyway?”

“You’ll know soon enough.” Simon’s voice still holds that edge of warning and doubt.

“You know, for future references, I prefer my surprises of the sparkly style wrapped in gold. Not so much a mysterious location with possible rotting people wandering around for that
extra
special
welcoming committee touch.” She exaggerates the last part with false enthusiasm.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His flirtatious smile is back as he keeps his attention straight ahead on the road, searching for something. “There is a turn up here. It is pretty easy to miss if you’re not looking for it.”

I am not looking for it. I am still watching Rhett as an excuse to stare in the direction behind me. I am using it to watch Lawless and his new rider. I do not want anyone to know how they are destroying me as I watch. I use it to cover the fact that my heart is beating with each slide of her hands over his chest. That my stomach is clinching as her hands sneak to caress his inner thighs. How I am growing physically ill with his smile. Another room of my heart starts to close.

“We should have buried Shaw.” Simon’s voice drags my eyes forward.

“Who?” I ask not out of interest, but more for the excuse to distract me from the mirrors.

“The one they killed. We should have buried her.” His voice is coated with regrets. I have a sense they are stacked deeper than just the one body we have left behind. “She was Leslie’s friend. We shouldn’t have just left her there like that.”

“Yeah, she looks real torn up over it. I can hear her sobs from here.” Aimes is watching the same show in her door mirror that I am in mine.

“We all deal with stuff differently.” Ross offers. I can feel his smile without even having to look at him. It is a dazzling white shade of a forming migraine.

“Well, her path of healing must lie through her vagina.” She offers back, winning a new red ribbon from me.

Even Simon has to smile with her observation that floors Ross into silence. It takes a moment to get used to the shock factor that is my friend. Her lack of filter is what I have always loved about her. She does not play any games or hold any schemes. She is just herself with no apologies for it. I am hoping that she and Ross are stuck together more often just to watch his smile choke from his face, because if he keeps that smile up, I will choke him myself.

Simon is right. The turn is a sharp, hidden secret, and I have missed it. I slam on the brakes, scattering the riders behind me with my sudden stop. Reverse is a wonderful thing and I slam her into that gear, making her engine roar with the force of my backtracking. Her lights cast a red glow upon Lawless as I take up every inch of space between us. He never flinches in my dare, but Leslie’s scream is satisfying enough for me.

“Holy shit, Hells!” is all Aimes says from the force of my actions. Her face is one of pride though, not shock.

“Hey y’all, come watch this.” Simon mutters, still bracing against the dash. Ross says nothing but just stares at me. If slinging the truck around will remove his smile, I may learn a new way to drive.

“This turn here?” I ask, ignoring them with my eyes still staring at the man behind my truck in the mirror. His eyes are safe from me behind the tinted lenses he wears. His face is blank even with Leslie animatedly talking in his ear like a devil on his shoulder. Rhett and Marxx both start clapping from the show.

“Yeah, this turn here.” Simon answers and I can feel his eyes on me. Men are so afraid of our feminine mood swings.

My warhorse navigates the turn with ease, even with her long frame, following into the sharp curve. We turn onto a narrow paved access road leading us through a tall, unkempt grass field. Deep ruts are visible from the many attempts to keep large service vehicles on such a narrow strip of asphalt. Even with their large size, the ties jar riding over so many deep potholes that I am forced to keep my attention to my driving. I no longer feel the need to watch what is going on behind me. I think I have made my opinion of his actions very clear. I do hit the brakes a little too hard here and there just to watch them brace behind me. It’s the little things in life.

Simon reaches over and taps a pattern out on the horn. The smart asses behind us play a game of “Simon Says” with the same melody. I do not even need to glance to see which two it was. Aimes and I exchange questioning glances at his sudden need for musical skills.

“Slow down or you’ll be running over my crew this time.” Simon tells me as a giant barbed wire fence comes into view.

“What the hell is this?” Aimes asks, taken aback by the first sight of our new home. “Are we at a prison?”

“Close.” Simon answers her wearing a mischievous smirk upon his face, and Ross just smiles. Surprise.

The gate does not swing open to allow us through but slides to the side. A man stands at the entrance with a high-power rifle slung across his back. His green eyes, so close to my own shade, are watching us drive to him. His clothes give hints at the well-toned shape of his body even from this distance. He waits with a shy stare as I roll my window down for him to talk with us. For a moment, I forget how to speak.

“Dolph, did Ramero make it back?” Simon asks of the man.

“Yeah, few hours ago. Was wondering when you’d show up.” He answers in a soft-spoken southern drawl. He never turns his body fully to us. I do not mind. The view of his well-toned arm keeps me entertained more than their conversation anyway. He leans sideways into the conversation, keeping those behind us in his sight. “What’s all this?”

“We made some new friends.” Ross answers with his smile.

Dolph leans in closer, resting that same arm that I have been memorizing the shape of on the truck’s door to see the man. His face is showing his disappointment with the answer. Or, perhaps just with Ross all together. Ross doesn’t seem to have a very big fan club. “They should have left you with your new friends.”

“Family reunions, so much fun.” Aimes says to me, hinting at an acknowledgment of our being ignored with their conversation.

Dolph holds her in his sight, trying to figure out if she is serious or toying with him. The emotions flash across his face before releasing her without any comment as he pulls back from the window. Aimes is making no new fan club members today either.

“Lock the gate up and meet us up at the school. I will fill you in.” Simon tells him.

He answers with a short head nod and a step back, allowing us to pass. Leslie and he exchange greetings as Lawless drives by him. If a greeting is a glare and the turning of his back to her hello. He does not seem too thrilled with discovering her either. Maybe he is just not the cheerful type. Chapel is the last one through when Dolph slides the gate shut behind him. There is a finalization with watching the gate shut behind us. For better or worse, we are now a part of their world and they, a part of ours.

“Should we wait for him?” I am still watching Dolph, and Simon does not try to hide his amusement. “It just seems rude to leave him like this.” I am trying to hide my discomfort of being so transparent with my thoughts under the guise of kindness. Sometimes it works. I see with Simon’s grin that this is not one of those times.

“No, it is best to let him walk back to the school. He needs some time to adjust. I can only imagine how your crew and Dolph are going to get along.” That same amusement is still upon his face.

“He seems pretty harmless.” Aimes lets the statement hang, forming more of a question.

“Yeah, you silent ones always do.” He catches my eyes in the rear view mirror with sincere honestly.

I can’t help it. I look to Ross with obvious disbelief at that assumption. Feeling my eyes upon him, he does not smile at me, but Aimes does. She is having the same thoughts as I about the “silent ones” being dangerous. We are used to our blusterous crew with their foul language, short tempers, and male jokes. That to us is dangerous. Not the quite man at the gate with his shy stares and short framed sentences or Ross with his instant smile and crowd pleasing needs. Nor me, for that matter, with all of my baggage stacking up around me. At this rate, I can go on a world tour and still have plenty of clothes packed for the return trip.

“Wait, did you say school?” I was wondering how long until Aimes picked up that clue.

“Yup” Ross’s smile has rejoined us. “A high school.”

“We really are in a prison!” She melts down onto the seat as a sigh escapes with the realization of where we are finally settles over her. I love my Aimes.

The perimeter of the school is surrounded by high wire fencing. I hope the barbed wire wrapped around the top is an afterthought of our new world and not part of what they once considered necessary for a school day. The school itself is a giant brick building of gothic intent. The slate coloring is a depressing grey against a darker roof matching the asphalt drive. Rows of narrow windows etched in the same dark coloring prove what a monster this place once was with its looming three stories. From our entrance, the building appears to be a giant rectangle of connecting halls wrapping around itself. Standing against an overcast sky, there are no welcoming feelings expressed from what I am seeing.

Simon instructs us to pull through an exaggerated archway that has been opened for us with our approach. The inner courtyard is completely protected by the high thick walls of the building, keeping the heart of the building secure. Many archways provide entrances to each internal section with various heights of steps to each. It casts an illusion of different depths to contrast against the dreary grey coloring. People are scattered about with their silent stares watching our approach. Their distrust mounting as each loud engine pulls in behind me. Their cold demeanor matching that of the building they call home.

“Cheerful. Think they know any campfire songs?” Aimes begins to sink down on the bench with the weight of the stares.

The courtyard itself is a main slab of dark concrete attached to the building with just as darkly colored paths leading to the many stairways. A dry brown lawn circles the concrete in an attempt, in the warmer months, to provide scenery with its many benches. Aimes is right. This is not like any high school I have ever seen. These kids were truly in a prison. The ones that live here now seem no friendlier than prisoners themselves.

Simon instructs me to park over to the side of the concrete that has been designated for such a purpose. Many cars, in many sizes, are parked in rows along the one wall. Also among them is the blue minivan from the Welcome Center. It still wears the markings of its encounter as either proof of its survival, or its shame, depending on which side of the event you sat.

Aimes and I exit from our respective sides, allowing our passengers to slide out after us. A woman is running towards us with shed tears upon her face, and for a moment, I pause in uncertainty over what to do until Simon steps from behind me to catch her as she falls into his arms. She clings to him with a desperate strength that comes from a deep relief of finding him and the fear of never seeing him again. They speak in soft tones to one another, ignoring the world around them, becoming a world of their own.

“When he came back without you…” Her voice cracks under the strain of having to finish the thought with words.

“I will always come back. Always.” Simon tells her, holding her head between his hands so she is forced to see into his eyes. He needs her to see the depth of sincerity the words hold. His thumbs glide in a comforting pattern along her face to help ease her fears. “No matter what, I will always come back.”

He holds her to his body as they both still seek the reassurance of one other. I am watching them reacquaint their senses, providing the proof to their hearts that they still live on. That they are both still safe. That today did not take the one possession they would not survive to lose. I can’t help but to wonder how much of his dedication to this woman is the reason for him siding with J.D. Here J.D. has been thinking his mind game allowed us passage but it very well may be that Simon has used us.