The Risen: Courage (5 page)

CHAPTER
7

“D
o you even have a reason as to why we are still alive?” Rhett and I have walked our side finding only a few pairs of stragglers that were easy to kill, to his disappointment. With an insistence to be thorough, we even broke into the main office to be sure it was clear. That was the reason he gave, but we both knew he just enjoyed breaking in. Now covered in our blood, their blood, and others’ blood, we run to hopefully find the rest of our family still alive with my question hanging between us.

“One,” Rhett starts, “because we were born. Two, because we haven’t died, yet.” His face is completely serious with his answer. It reminds me why I don’t come to Rhett for motivational speeches. He will simply kill the monster under the bed for you. He won’t help you overcome your fear of it.

“Look,” he tells me, “we survive because we are together, not because of you or me or anyone else alone, but because we take care of each other.”

“What will we do now?” I ask him. I hadn’t meant for it to be such a heavy question or that of one sounding like a child, but it is.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

J.D. was many different things to many different people. His loss is the same combination. Mix the hanging fate of Aimes into that, and now there is no true north.

Chapel is sitting on one of the hallway’s benches in front of the entrance to the gym. His head is lowered, cradled in his hands. We both take it as a bad sign. Rhett rushes through the doors, willing to face whatever the news may be, but not me. My legs are locked as I stare at Chapel. His lips are frantically moving with his internal thoughts. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that he is praying. I’m just too scared to ask for what or for whom.

“You okay?” I ask him. I hope it will give me an idea of what is waiting beyond the doors.

His voice is thick with cloaked emotions as he says simply, “Yeah.”

“Does that work for you?”

He holds a hand out for me to take, lending me the strength that he and I both know that most of the time I just fake. “Yeah.” he says again, gently leading me to sit beside him.

We sit side-by-side in silence, just allowing our presence to be the other’s comfort. The preacher’s son never turns his soul-seeing eyes to me and I am grateful. I don’t know what he would see right now.

“Why?” I ask, breaking the fragile silence first.

“Why what?”

“Why does it work for you?”

He sighs, bowing his head again and tells me, “We don’t all have an Aimes in our life.”

The mention of her name and the silence is a burden again. It’s a heavy burden that crushes the wind from my lungs.

“Praying for you is like Aimes and I?” I whisper her name, afraid to speak it aloud as if it might be the last time I do.

He looks to me, feeling my question in his mind before answering it. “I can say what I need to say. Even the things I don’t say, He knows. He doesn’t judge either way.”

“I thought the whole “judgment” thing went hand-in-hand with Him?”

“No,” he says, looking at me with that gaze I was so afraid of moments ago, “that’s mankind.” There is a deep emotion to his voice that leaves no room for doubts about the life he has lived. I can’t meet his eyes. Instead, I stare at his hands. I stare at the cross ring he always wears, which used to shine with the many white stones it holds. Now that shine is gone as the blood from my friend dries in every crevice it owns.

“Is Aimes…?” I can’t say the word, but he knows what I am asking.

“No. Paula says she’ll be fine. Just needs a few days to recover.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and runs his knuckles tenderly down my cheek. That same thick voice tells me, “We have a lot of shit to do still. Perhaps it’s best if you don’t go in there, not yet. Let everything settle down inside you first.”

Until this, we have all ignored Chapel. However, he was not the man who now sits here beside me, either. We have all had to change or be destroyed by what our lives have become. J.D. broke, but the man he viewed as our weakest link, strengthened. As he gives me words to excuse me from my fears, I can’t imagine this life without him.

“She is sure that Aimes is going to be okay?”

“There’s always a risk, but she’s already gained some color back. It’s a good sign, Hells.” His voice is soft, comforting as he reassures me.

“I can’t lose her.” That sentence frees all of the emotions inside of me. Everything I have shut down and ignored rips forth in an exhale that shakes my body. I would collapse before God myself if He would spare her. I would blunder through every prayer I know if He would only hear me. I have offered my life to Death in exchange for hers already. I would give God the same trade if He cared.

Chapel crushes me to him. He hides me in the strength of his arms while I cry, rocking me into a peaceful place like the child I yearn to become again, safe and treasured. His heart beat pounds against my ear with his own suffering. It’s not just Aimes that has us clinging to each other, but J.D. and Shelia and all the other names seared into our hearts. Every new loss is the opening of wounds that never heal. The wounds left by those who have already gone. It is a reminder of all those we couldn’t save and didn’t save. When Death takes someone from you, he reminds you of all the others he stole too.

“I can’t do it anymore.” I whisper into his chest.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Chapel’s says. I can feel the vibration of his words as they rumble in his chest. Somehow, it’s comforting to a part of me that is very girly and that I very much dislike. “You just have to find the courage to get through each hour. Just focus on each hour. Soon, the hours will turn into days, the days into weeks and so forth until this is all over.”

“What if it’s never over?”

“Eventually Helena, it’s over for us all.”

His words startle me some. Like a prophecy of fate, you know it’s coming, but you deny it. Somewhere down the long tunnels of my mind, I hear Lilly laugh, I smell the soft scent of Conroy’s shampoo and I can see Ashley’s blue eyes with their defeated tears. Eventually, it’s over for us all.

“Pull it together,” Chapel tells me, but it’s not part of the pep talk. It’s a warning. The muffled voices from behind the wall grow closer. Rhett is returning with the rest of what is left of our family.

I used my walls once to protect myself. Now, I use those same walls to protect them. The men have just left the bedside of our treasured pixie. They need strength now, not more sorrows.

Lawless holds the door for me after the rest have passed through. His eyebrows arch as he waits for me, confused by my delay. I’m just as lost, but not by confusion, by fears I have no words to explain. I can wade into death, but the thought of walking into a room where my best friend lies injured and suffering makes me powerless.

“We have to get upstairs.” I say to him as weak as a child in the dark. The disappointment on his face is searing. I watch as he stretches his neck, turning his face away from me as he chews back the words with which he wants to lash out.

“She’s right. We don’t know if any made it up there yet.” Marxx nods, but he sees through me. His eyes stare at me intently as he says, “We came across a few, but there should be more of them with the amount of damage Chapel was talking about.”

“We found a crew in the library, but yeah, there should be more.” Rhett’s eyes have taken a far off glaze as he tries to figure out where else the Risen could be. He says, “We left a gun with Paula and had her lock the doors. She should be good.” Rhett shrugs, happy with his logic and ready to move on. Rhett’s mind has a five-minute cycle. He is already thinking about the next possible task; killing.

“So what’s the plan?” Chapel’s voice is still deep from his pain. It tugs at my own and I swallow against the burning pressure.

Marxx answers with his eyes still measuring me. He says, “Go upstairs. Check it out. We don’t let them know what we found down here. They have enough shit to work through.”

“Yup.” Lawless says as he pushes through the little group we have formed. “We wouldn’t want to upset anyone.” His double-edged words are sharp and the slice they leave on my heart makes me wince. He doesn’t spare us a backwards glance to see if we are following him and he doesn’t care if we do or if we don’t. Lawless has started the climb to the leadership of their crew. In their world, a strong leader doesn’t hold your hand, he takes you by the throat and holds you in your place. That grasp reminds you of whom you respect not how to gain respect. I should be walking by his side, but he has left me behind with the guys as well. His grasp isn’t around my neck. It’s a much stronger hold. He has my heart, but it still leaves me choking just the same.

Chapel, the one of us who has adjusted the best to change, falls in behind him first. Marxx follows next leaving only Rhett and I to silently choose our path. Our faces both hold a look of concern, but his is a different set of eyes that watches. Feeling my stare, he slides those lethal eyes to me and lets me see a glimpse of his thoughts before he goes blank. Rhett will not bow down again. The man who monsters fear will not pay homage to their prince, and with J.D. gone, there might not be anyone who can keep our deadly master of games in line.

CHAPTER
8

T
he entrance to the hallway is the same as we had left it. The dead still stare out with their blank eyes and slack expressions. The Christmas tree’s limbs have started to sag with the layers of crimson pulling them down. The fresh pine scent is tainted with the metallic undertones from the blood that covers it.

Do you know what day it is?
Aimes’ voice whispers through my mind, rattling my breath.

Rhett’s hand roams my lower back as he pushes me forward. His eyes are still the blank, dangerous warning, but his hand with its stroking thumb lends me the comfort I need. I focus on the small, warm pattern of his thumb along my spine. I let his constant, gentle push guide me forward with each forced step. I have walked through so many things I wish I could erase from my mind. I have endured what others may have given up over and it’s all wearing my heart raw and threadbare. A part of me craves the lost ability to submit and hide as I watched the days flow past with their constant pattern of predictability. I want to go back to that oblivious life. With as much as I want it, a part of me knows I can never be that girl again.

I lift my head and push down all the doubts that nag me. I lock the doors to all the rooms in my mind that threaten to open with their fanged demons. I slow my heart to the pattern of our steps, refusing to let it carry me into a panic. I can’t go back so I might as well keep going forward. Even if forward is dark and frightening with its hidden agendas, I will meet it head on. Not because I want to, but because I have to. Rhett smiles as he feels my spine stiffen under his palm. We don’t acknowledge the intimate exchange out loud. We don’t even look to the other. We simply fall in step and follow the rest of the group into the sobbing and the fight we both know is waiting for us. His hand falls from me, but not before his fingertips press against the lowest section of my back. This he does acknowledge with a wink from his pale, angry eyes.

The screams have drowned to the grief that only silence can accompany. All words have been used and have fallen short. Those who are embracing the ones who have lived in guilty gratitude and those who are lost in their memories of the ones they have lost divide the hallway. One common enemy unites them all - us.

Those once grateful, perhaps even envious of our little family, no longer harbor any admiration for us. They pull each other closer as we pass as if we could spread some disease of misfortune. Perhaps we could with how everything has played out. Some do not even try to hide their belief in our faults.

Marxx has to be restrained as one male spits at our feet as we pass. The man’s grief has encased him with rage. He stands over the body of a dead female. He has arranged her to look as if she is sleeping with closed eyes and palms pressed to the floor. She is a modern day Sleeping Beauty with her blonde hair fanned around her. In death, her skin tone still holds a pale ethereal entrancement and her lips cling to their pink tint even as it slowly fades. A simple kiss from a prince and it should spare this tragedy, but it won’t. None of us are spared - not this father and not his daughter.

“You did this,” the man shouts over the arms pulling him from Marxx. He continues with his screaming, “You let him kill my daughter! We all saw how unstable he was. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“We didn’t know,” Chapel lies. He lies with the bruising still on his face from his broken nose. He lies not with malice, but praying for mercy. Yearning for the punishment he feels he deserves, he has placed himself between Marxx and the man. Chapel will take the judgment. He craves it.

The man sneers with his rage into the face of Chapel. He stands toe to toe with the taller man with his anger giving him courage and says, “Isn’t this what your type does? You kill, and prey on those you think weaker than you?”

Rhett laughs a deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around Chapel’s shoulder. He blocks the view of Lawless pulling Marxx backwards from the grieving father and says with his warning smirk, “Yeah man, that’s what we do. We ride around town beefing with other MCs over territories, run drugs, all that crazy O.K. Coral shit just like whatever television show you’ve been watching.” Rhett leans dangerously close and whispers beside the man’s head, “It’s a good thing that’s all television bullshit because if you really thought we were like that, you’d know what I’d have to do to you now for spitting on a member of my club.”

Rhett lets his words sink in as he pulls slowly away from the man to stare into his eyes. I watch as the emotions flicker across the man’s face. He wants to hold on to his rage. He wants to stand firm and brave thinking it will be an act of justice to take out his anger on us, but another emotion that is harder to fight against slows his breathing and pulls him a slight step backwards. Rhett smiles knowing he has the man now. I have learned from Rhett that you never back down to what you fear because once you have, you can never meet its eyes again and the man can’t. Rhett played a game of truth or dare and the man isn’t willing to call dare, but Rhett is.

“Bury your daughter, man. Take care of your shit. I’m sorry for your loss, but if you ever pull something like that again….” Rhett lets the ending hang and the silence says more than any words he might have chosen.

“I’m sorry.” Chapel’s voice holds the pain he is feeling and it connects with the man. It’s a verbal handshake of a greeting that no parent wants. With his voice, Chapel lets the other man know that he knows the man’s suffering as only a father can. It’s a balm to the man and he nods, but the anger is still a flicker of a candle’s flame in his eyes.

Rhett pats Chapel’s chest to signal the show is over. When Marxx looks to the man, I know it’s not. It’s just stalled until everyone can put the pieces of this day back together. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about it tomorrow. Right now, I just want the chance to clean up today, a shower, a few hours of sleep and Aimes’ smiling face again. Marxx told me once that it was from me she gained her strength. Standing here in the middle of a ring of hell, I’m not so sure he was right.

Her one-liners would have diffused this situation before the threats could have been shared. She would have had us shaking our heads with her mangled logic and forgetting we are deep in the puddles of the blood that are drying into shameful stains. Stains that no matter what Chapel may have told the man are our fault. We knew this was going to happen. We underestimated J.D. and like so many others in his past it could cost us everything; our home, our new bonds, our security and our pixie – everything.

At one time, I would have told Marxx to grow up and stormed past them all. I would have taken the lead and left them to stew in their injured male prides. I was not this girl hanging in the back, huddled waiting with choked breath, caged in fear over what they are going to do. That frustration is still with me. It’s stalking the walls of my mind like a large cat with the dark thoughts that it whispers to me. I could focus on it, pulling it forward to shield the truth of how I am feeling, but I’m tired of being the fighter. I want to be just a survivor for one day, but that’s not me. White flags are not my style even when they really should be.

My deep inhaled breath twitches Lawless’ eyes to me as if he just remembered I was still here. It’s the ignition I needed. “You boys done measuring your dicks? I’d like to check on Simon.”

It’s overly cruel for what has happened, I know, but it works. All eyes swing to me and I force my face to go blank. It deflates their puffed chests like an abused balloon. If I have learned anything from my time with G.R.I.T., it’s that men don’t respond well to subtle and we don’t have a lot of time to waste. They really aren’t amused by a lack of appreciation for their “manhood” either.

“Unless you’re willing to hold the measuring stick, yeah, I’m good,” Rhett tells me with a new light to his eyes. His lips hold the trademark of trouble and when he looks to Lawless. I know it’s not me he is toying with.

Lawless meets his stare and returns his own smirk with a head nod before saying, “Yeah, we all friends here.” Lawless pulls Marxx forward by the vest that unites them, never removing his stare from Rhett.

The cat in my mind roars with annoyance. It pushes me forward, lending my legs the prowling walk of its nature. “One big happy family,” I say as I walk through the cluster of them. “Let’s go bury Daddy.”

Their smiles melt. The corners of their mouths are pulled down, frowning over the momentarily forgotten event that has slipped from their minds. The clicking of my boots is the only sound in the hall now. I let it echo around me as I leave them behind.

“Changed my mind.” I hear Rhett say behind me. “I’m afraid of what she might do with the measuring stick.”

“That’s why we don’t give her a gun.” Marxx’ gruff voice is followed by their footsteps landing one more notch to my annoyance.

A thousand responses are crawling along my tongue, but my bullshit meter is maxed already. He is right. If they had given me a gun when this all began, they would all probably have flesh wounds by now. Only flesh wounds, I promise. I bite back my bitterness and glance over my shoulder with a look that lets them know I heard them before heading towards the mourners with whom I am most concerned. I head towards the body of a man I called father as we leave a father behind.

Simon has laid his daughter, Kira, beside the body of his wife. He sits between them both, holding their hands with his head bowed. Someone has placed a cloth over Shelia’s head. Her blood is a dark discoloration in the plaid-like patterns, but it shields Simon from having to stare at the ruins of his wife’s once-perfect face. Kira has no covering. There is nothing to shield us from the deformed, tiny skull that rests tilted from the damage it has received. Her youthful perfection, just like her precious life, was forever stolen from her. Simon doesn’t want this truth covered. He wants us all to see it, to really see it.

Dolph and I stare at each other over Simon. I am trying to put the missing pieces of time together by reading his face, but he shows me nothing. Richard stands near him with sadness pulling his shoulders low. The way his body sags, he looks as if the emotion has a greater sense of gravity than the pull of the earth. How do you comfort your friend who has lost his whole family in a matter of hours? My head swings to look at Chapel before I can stop myself. A lot of people say they are in their own private ring of hell daily. With Chapel having to watch his own story unfold over and over again, I know he really is.

I am aware the moment when Lawless and Rhett come into view for Dolph and Richard. I know because they no longer hold the posture of defeat. Their bodies rise as they inhale, pulling their heads and shoulders back. They come closer to Simon as if fearing what the other two males may say or do. When Simon notices their movement, he awakens from his grief-stricken trance and peers around with blinking eyes as if he had forgotten where he was. His mind was lost in the past to avoid traveling into the future. For him, it is now a future that will be always be shaded with the shadows of his past.

“You’re still here?” Simon’s voice is flat and bare of any depths. It mirrors his face and eyes. “Figured you would have run off and left us to sort out the mess.”

Dolph motions with a jab of his chin to where J.D. still lays in the pool of his blood. He looks directly to Lawless and asks, “Come to take out the trash?”

I don’t know who moved to whom first because the explosion from Dolph’s words was instant. Chapel and I have to brace against the floor to keep the groups apart as Simon watches with his empty eyes.

The shouting and accusations are disjointed and competing for damage as the two groups of men exchange them. Chapel and I shout amid the chaos, but it goes unheard. The tension that has been a stewing pot since the gym is finally boiling over having a real reason to fight.

Dolph stands chest-to-chest with Lawless as they stare, daring the other to take the first swing. Marxx is blocking Richard from the two men in a reverse style as Rhett had before.

Rhett blocked the man to settle down the fight, protecting Marxx. Marxx is blocking Richard to allow Lawless
to
fight. Marxx is protecting him, but for a different reason.

“Did you do this on purpose?” Dolph asks Lawless, baiting him into action. “You slink away in the night with some bullshit story of a close call just to see how this would all play out? You get the girl and leadership in one moment of lying glory.”

“Yeah, that’s what I did,” Lawless tells him, smirking into the sneering face of Dolph. Lawless steps into that small fraction of space Dolph left between them. They are not just face-to-face anymore but almost cheek-to-cheek. He lowers his voice and asks, “What’s the matter Dolph? You pissed because I’m back or are you pissed because I have
her
back?”

Dolph lifts his head, struck by what Lawless has asked and looks to me before looking back to Lawless without realizing the action.

“Yeah, I know,” Lawless says, leaning even closer to say into Dolph’s ear, “I haven’t got time to deal with you right now. So, you can either go back and stand in your corner and let us do the heavy lifting around here like you have been doing, or you can get your shit together and do something useful. I really don’t care which option you choose, just stay out of my way. We have enough people to bury today, but what’s a few more holes to dig if I have to.” Lawless shrugs with his last words, expressing just how little it would affect him.