The Risen: Courage (7 page)

Rhett returns to where they have placed the body with a gas can that sloshes as he strides towards them. The red paint that is used for warning purposes tries to give one last clue as to what may happen once the match is sparked. The smell of the gas cuts through the acidic wasting of flesh. I have to bite my tongue to keep it still as protests expand in my chest like air. I don’t want to watch. I don’t want to see what is about to happen. I don’t want to say good-bye to the man who has left me torn in two with my feelings for him. I lock my feet to the ground, refusing them the steps they want to take towards the sheet, but I don’t try to hide the tears I feel licking their way down my face.

Chapel inhales, steadying his voice. Its deep pitch carries over the sounds of mourning from the inside the courtyard that play the perfect backdrop of a melody. “Gone is our Brother, a piece of our hearts. A silver tear to remember. A silver tear to pull us apart. Your memory we will cherish. Your body we now bury.”

Lawless lights his cigarette, drawing a long inhale from it. The tip glows red as the heat travels through the ashes. He flicks it onto the sheet and exhales the thick smoke as the fire sparks to life. I watch the flames take J.D. They roar and snap, devouring the man who held the heavy burden of holding us together. A burden that in the end was too much to bear. In J.D.’s eyes, when he lost Lawless, he lost his world. Staring across the flames, I see the same fears on Law’s face through the hazy heat and it’s mixed with the bitterness of one who is left behind.

Rhett doesn’t stay to watch the flames. He heads towards me with the same red warning can and splashes the pile near me, covering them with flammable liquid. My eyes bounce from the burning fire to the fire that is about to burn, not sure which is going to be worse. It’s a crescendo of anguish with the splashing being the beat of the drum. Striking a match, Rhett lets the little stick fall and the heat soars instantly. It’s shocking how something of such a small size can cause such havoc. Like a wave, the flames flow forward overtaking the pile, covering it in the orange and yellows of itself. Rhett doesn’t flinch from the heat. He doesn’t step back from the black smoke that stretches upwards like long fingers reaching into the sky. The smoke that looks like souls fleeing from the twisted forms they have become. He stares into the flames at a woman who still wears a pink cardigan over her dress. Her blonde hair shaken loose from Marxx’ treatment lies around her and catches the fire first.

The flames climb up her, slowly swallowing her body, but Rhett stares on. He stares at her the way the men are staring at the fire across from us. The same mixture of remorse and remembrance swirls in his eyes. Me? I’m just watching it all because if I stare at any one thing for too long, I might just dance in the flames myself.

CHAPTER
10

T
he greatest threat to a person’s sanity is not always the monster they invent in dark corners staring back at them. Sometimes, it’s the eyes of the people who think you are the monster staring at them. Right now, as we return to the courtyard, all eyes are on us. Maybe it’s the bloodstained clothing that has more crimson than the original designs intended. Maybe it is the exhaustion that is stealing the color from our skin. It might be the black leather vests that shine brighter than normal with the layers of gore that clings to them or the vest that I am cradling like a teddy bear to ward off evil thoughts. Then again, it might just be Rhett. He has that effect on people. The words he dropped as the men lifted J.D.’s bike from its fallen position most likely didn’t solve any of the trust issues the others seem to be having with us.

“How did this happen?” Lawless asks, staring at the dark Harley. He is looking for any imperfections in its frame. His fingers float over the high gloss of the metal searching for spots his eyes might miss. Marxx looks to me, cradling his arm, and we exchange a silent moment of plotting.

“Must have slipped,” Marxx says shrugging and it’s a simple cover up lacking any flare or in-depth planning.

Rhett looks to the other bikes and back to the one that stands in the center of their circle. I can almost feel the skull’s eyes staring at me with blame. “Just his?” Rhett asks with a voice that holds more accusation than question. He looks at the crowd who are standing across from us like a divided line of battle. “Just his?” he asks again, but that is not the question he is posing to the group.

Lawless follows the logic, standing to further add to the division and my heart sinks at what I may have caused.

“His is the heaviest. He was upset when he came back. He might have not had the stand all the way down…” My voice dies as my mind runs out of steam to fuel the argument.

“You really think they are brave enough to do that?” Chapel takes the dare to a different level. He isn’t accusing them of doing it. He is accusing them of being too scared to do it. It brings the argument to a different thought and yet a whole circle of closing it, too.

“Nah. He’s right. Isn’t their style,” Rhett says as he pats Lawless as if to snap the other man out of the glare. Lawless doesn’t “awaken” though. His eyes have found the man he would place the bet on and that same man is staring back at him - Dolph.

“Larance,” I whisper his name with hopes that a gentle approach will bring him back around. He tilts his head in my direction, acknowledging my voice, but he doesn’t look away from the other man. “It wasn’t him.” He gives me an eyebrow for my sentence and I hear the words come from me before I am aware I was going to say it. “I did it.”

If I wanted his attention, I got it, his and the rest of the men. Marxx sighs with his hero attempt blown and Chapel smirks and coughs in hopes to cover the smile. Rhett and Lawless are not as amused.

Rhett takes a step closer to me, towering over me, and the sun casts him in a sudden shadow as if it is too scared to watch. “What?” It’s one word Rhett says to me but it might as well have been a death threat in many languages. Chapel is already moving to me when Law places a fist on his chest to stop him. He is waiting like Rhett for me to explain.

How much of the truth do you tell a man who may just kill you for it? How far are you willing to spare your soul if your body is in harm’s way?

“It was an accident,” I start, rushing through every word I hold in my vocabulary that may save me. “I use to sit on it all the time and he would laugh at how I couldn’t reach the ground. I just wanted…” My lies stall as Rhett’s eyebrow rises.

“ – that moment?” Lawless finishes for me and I pounce on the opening.

“Yes. That moment.” I stare into a killer’s blue eyes and lose all value to my soul. “I just wanted that moment, Rhett.”

Lawless’ fist melts like an ice sculpture on Chapel’s chest, flattening itself in slow motion before is slips away. He comes to me and wraps those arms around me and even Rhett has to look away from my imagined weakness.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Rhett asks me and I have to almost laugh with his question. Only half-hidden by Lawless can I look at Rhett and keep my composure.

“Doesn’t matter,” Marxx says, once again trying to cover my recklessness. “It’s done and everything is fine. Can we get inside now?”

“Shouldn’t we go over there?” Chapel asks, motioning with his head to the space across from us. The gap seems to have grown even further as we talked. “See if they need help or something?”

“All out of patience and marshmallows,” Rhett says with his first steps away from us. “I’m going in.”

“How about bullets? You out of those?” Chapel’s low voice crawls up my spine like fingernails. I shiver with it making Lawless pull me tighter to him.

“Running a little low,” Rhett says. “Why?”

It’s Marxx that answers him, not the preacher’s son. “We missed some.”

I don’t know what is happening behind me. Whatever it is, it sets the men on edge. Lawless holds me like man drowning, pulling my head to his neck. He whispers into my hair, “I want you to go inside. Get to Aimes until someone comes for you. You don’t come back. No hero shit.”

I stiffen to argue with him, but he pulls me tighter, letting me know he isn’t starting a debate. “Walk calmly in. Don’t run until you have to.” He pulls me from him with a sideways pushing motion. He doesn’t want me to see whatever is behind me that have them rattled. “Marxx, get her in.” Lawless is no longer whispering. His tone is harsh, sharp with his command.

“I should be out here with you.” Marxx steps forward, his voice raw with the insult he feels has been given. I guess he feels over qualified for babysitting. Maybe he has forgotten the amount of trouble this baby can find for him.

Lawless turns to the taller man, giving him the full weight of his brown eyes. For a moment, they remind me of another set. A set that was steel-grey and just as angry under the surface. “You should do what you’re told.” Lawless doesn’t yell. He doesn’t let his voice climb even one pitch with his command. The steadiness of it gives it all the volume it needs.

For a moment, I think the two are going to argue, but Marxx nods with his jaw set. Taking me by the arm, he starts to pull me towards the door with his fingers taking out his anger on my skin.

“You really think they are on just that side?” I ask him as he leads us away. I don’t have to look to see what has started this. Like a kid who never lets on to understand the word their parent’s are spelling instead of saying, I know from what Lawless is sending me running from.

“I wasn’t asked to think,” Marxx tells me, still wounded from being sent away and his pride is making my arm pay for it.

“If you were to think, if you were to stop pouting like a child and think, would you think they are on just one side?”

His jaw slides side-to-side with his thoughts before he turns to me, “No. I don’t.”

“Looks like we get to have some fun, too.” I smile at him. I smile letting it reach my eyes like a mischievous thought.

He stares at me, half dragging me still with a face that is searching mine. “My job is to get you to Aimes; to keep you girls safe. Your job is not to be a pain in my ass.”

“Now Marxx,” I smile again as he shoves me through a door into the school, “when have I ever been a pain in your ass?”

He doesn’t have a chance to answer me. There is no charming come back to make me behave. He doesn’t because as he opens his mouth, the screaming starts. It’s a ripple effect of fears with one voice melding into more with each voice that joins the choir. It ranges in the highs of the females to the lows of males like sections of songs, but it is wordless melodies of what our days are now. We no longer need words to move us. Screaming seems to work just fine.

“You’re not going to see Aimes, are you?” Marxx stares down at me with amusement and hesitation.

“No,” I say to him and we both smile with it.

The men have come to know me well. I’m not one to run and hide, praying for someone to come save me. I don’t expect for someone to take the bullet for me. I can light my own cigar and take it just fine on my own while bitching about it the whole time. I am more damned than I am damsel and I don’t cower in the corner from the big baddie or hide under the bed with my hand clamped over my mouth. Unless that big baddie is Rhett. Then all bets are off. Even Superman has his kryptonite.

“You have a plan?” he asks as the seconds shave hours from time.

I glance behind me and watch the monsters that stalk us now overtake the area outside. I watch as those who try to run trip and fall with their feet clumsy in their haste to get away only to be set upon by greedy hands and starving mouths. I see all those people who were just moments ago staring at us with hate running to the very men they placed that hate on with prayers of salvation. I stare as the only ones Karma has left me head once again into the danger and dare Death for the third time today.

“Yeah,” I tell Marxx, “the same plan I always have. Stay alive.”

“Solid plan, but I was thinking of something with a touch more details.” He is watching the start of a war outside with his mind racing for solutions. One man can start a war, but can only one end it?

I stare out the window with him, so close to where we use to sit and have our morning chats. The landscape is something much worse now. “If you have any suggestions, you should hurry.” I prompt him into plotting.

“They can’t shoot. They are running too low and there is too much risk of hitting someone - ”

“ – Not that Rhett would care.”

“ - Or your boy.”

I ignore his tone and ask, “So? What is the plan?”

“If we don’t take them from the other side, they will be overrun.” He leaves it as simple as that. Simple, as if I should be grasping the hidden threat he has seen. Staring at the massacre, I do.

Following in his long stride, I slip into the leather vest they wear marking them as a group. The extra layers I wear of winter protection absorb some of the extra space left from the older man’s size. The leather still wears the previous owners scent like a denial of my right to wear it. For a flash of time, I can feel his corded arms around me like a ghostly hug, lending me the strength I will need to face what is waiting for us. His laughter once again floats behind the locked doors of my mind. He would not be surprised to find me back on the cement standing beside them. I have become either suicidal or stupid with illusions of grandeur. The wound left on my arm enflames letting me know it’s suicidal because my worn out body has no illusions at all of what I am.

The screaming was muted behind the thick, grey walls. The safety glass constructed windows with its wire embedding dulled the colors of the murders. When Marxx opens the door, the safety blanket is stolen with savage brutality. Standing in the center of the chaos, there is nothing to soften what is happening all around me and my heart fights to stay the course. Its pattern is no longer the steady rhythm of a conqueror it had on the walk here. Now it is the pounding of a deserter. The sights, the sounds and the smells all add layer upon layer to the continued shocks to my confidence.

The burning bodies cloud the closed courtyard with smoke and wisp-like ashes that dance with the snow like demons with angels. The smell of the roasting flesh pairs with the copper blood as if Death walks in the past and present among us. He causes this loop of time where hope fades and depression holds to our hearts, robbing us of any possible victory.

“Helena!” Marxx’ voice pulls me forward as my mind tries to hold me back. I don’t need my mind for this. My body has learned long ago how to do this. We know what it takes to survive and as my blade finds the throat of the first glaring face, it’s nothing personal. It’s just them or us and today we are the good guys. Tomorrow, tomorrow we might all be dead.

The blood bubbles across the gash of the Risen’s neck. Air that was trapped in his windpipe causes the blood to froth like thick coffee before it slides down his chest. Marxx finishes him when he drops to his knees with a quick kick to the head. It snaps the neck, leaving him a pile of useless limbs, but his eyes still watch us as we walk away.

Marxx grabs me by the vest I have placed upon me, pulling me to him. “You want to wear this, then act like it. You follow my lead, no hero bullshit.” He has to shout over the screams of the dying and frightened. I nod, not trusting my tongue to obey me, but for it to say something that I might come to regret later. It does that sometimes.

With a shove, he turns from me and together we fill in the space needed that the other leaves, mirroring as we reduce the numbers of the Risen to make our way to the center where the rest of G.R.I.T. stands. I know the moment Lawless spots us through the weaving crowd. With his fist dripping from the assault he just landed, he mouths a word that I don’t need to be near him to understand. That one syllable is easy to read on his lips even from this distance.

When Marxx loses a path through, he says the same word. This time, I am near enough to understand. We have fought our way into the eye of the deadly storm. My body that was once exhausted now quickens with the effort to survive. Adrenaline touches every muscle, feeding it with a false vigor. For a period, it fed me with victory. As Marxx and I watch the circle we had cleared enfold us, I know it fed me lies.