What Little Remains (The Fallout Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

May 10

“It’s hard to believe that a month has already
passed,” Nicole says, her laundry bag on her hip as we walk back to the camp.

The sun is burning brightly in the sky. It’s a
beautiful day. Birds are flying, dodging in and out of trees around us. The
bruises on my stomach have nearly faded away; yellow outlines are all that
remain of them. My left hand is the only thing that I’m still having trouble
with. John took the splint off two days ago, but only with the promise that I
won’t use it.

I might be tempted, if it weren’t for the fact that
he also told Ricky, Daren, and Nicole that I wasn’t allowed to use it. One of
them is almost always with me, taking even the smallest jobs that I can manage
away from me. Even John has been babying me.

It was two weeks before Ricky could walk, and even
then he couldn’t walk great distances without assistance. Each day he improved,
pushing
himself
further and further. He still isn’t
allowed to use his hands very often; John taped three of his fingers together
to make it easier on him. Last week, his face started looking the way it used
to, the bruising dying down to his normal skin color in most areas. His nose is
a little more crooked than it used to be, and he has more scars now, physical
and mental. I’m not the only one still having nightmares.

“It feels like such a long time ago but also like
it just happened yesterday,” I say.

I keep seeing Ricky dying over and over again in
different ways, but each time it was Razor who killed him. I would wake up
crying, doing my best to stay quiet so that Nicole wouldn’t be able to hear me.

I glance over at her, a secret smile on her face.
While Ricky and I have been rebuilding our relationship, Alec and she have been
taking theirs to the next level. Since the night of the attack, they can’t be
separated. He got very protective of her. The scar on her face is a constant
reminder of what happened.

When I asked her if it bothered her, that she would
always have a scar on her face, she laughed.

“Maybe it should, but it doesn’t. This scar means
that I fought, and I won. I came out alive. It’s a reminder to me and everyone
else that we can survive. We’re all stronger than we think. Sometimes we just
need to be reminded of that.”

I look back at the ground. What a pair we are.

We walk through the gates, nodding to the men on
guard. Ricky has finally lessened security during the day, but the men still
are on double duty at night. They are exhausted, but none of them complain. We
lost three people from the attack. Two were soldiers; both were shot when Razor
and his men entered the compound. Noah was only ten, and he died trying to
protect the other kids.

We burned their bodies in a clearing outside of the
wall. One man left behind a wife, who cried silently as she lit the fire. The
other man had no family here, so Daren said something about him before lighting
the fire.

The little boy who died was an orphan. Megan
started to speak about him but ended up breaking down. John held her when
another little boy stood up to speak.

“Noah was a good boy, and he’s going to heaven,”
the little boy said, looking around at all of us. “He is going to see his mommy
and daddy again.”

I helped Megan light the wood, and everyone stood
back and watched the fires burn. The next couple of days after that were rough,
and spirits were low. Ricky still couldn’t get himself out of bed. Daren told
everyone that he went out by himself to find the man who got away. Only the men
who were out by the bonfire that night knew what really happened to him. All
those men kept that knowledge to themselves.

Something about Ricky makes everyone feel safe. He
is the reason people aren’t afraid to continue living their lives. If they knew
that he nearly died, they would have lost faith in him. It’s their faith in him
that keeps people from trying to overthrow him, or go into a panicked frenzy.
As of this moment, they all support him. I can see how fragile that
relationship is now.

“Hey, ladies,” Daren says from behind us. He slides
an arm around my waist and kisses me on the cheek. “How’re you doing?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you today,” Nicole says,
winking suggestively at him. “I’m going to go hang up my laundry. Don’t pick on
Charlie too much.”

“I don’t pick on you,” Daren says, looking down at
me.

I pat him on the stomach as he walks me back to
Ricky’s cabin. The cabin has turned into central headquarters this last week.
Ricky made a big push to finish rebuilding the wall and now they are starting
to rebuild houses. He’s normally supervising the building and the men, doing
what he can to help. Now that the wall is finished, they are looking for new
ways to protect it.

Daren knocks on the doorframe as we walk in.
 
Ricky is standing at the table, one hand
behind his back, and the other he uses to lean on the table. There are four
men, two are soldiers and the other two do a lot of the manual labor. He looks
up at the knock, a smile forming around the corners of his mouth.

“Gentlemen, it would appear that our meeting is
over,” Ricky says, straightening. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The men nod and gather their things, murmuring
quietly among themselves. They all nod to Daren as they pass him. Daren closes
the door behind them while I sit at the table across from Ricky. He eyes me for
a minute before taking a seat as well.

“How’s everything looking outside?” he asks, the
question directed at Daren even though he doesn’t look away from me.

“It’s getting there,” Daren says, letting out a
slow burst of air. “The men are looking good. John’s finally got his cabin back
to himself. The wall is looking steady. Everything seems to be settling nicely.
Thanks to you.”

Ricky shakes his head, setting his arms down on the
table in front of him. He breaks eye contact with me first to look at Daren.
“It’s all because of you. You’re a better leader than I could ever be.”

Daren shrugs away the compliment. “It’s because I’m
more attractive. People respond well to pretty people.”

Ricky smirks, shaking his head.

“I’ve got to go supervise dinner,” he says,
touching me on the shoulder. “I can’t wait until John clears you to cook again.
You are one of the few people here who knows what they are doing.”

I shrug my shoulders, attempting to look modest.
“What can I say, I’m awesome.”

Daren snorts before opening the door. “If you need
anything, just let me know.”

He closes the door firmly behind him. Ricky gets up
and walks around the table. He sits down on it in front of me, folding his arms
across his chest.

“How were the kids today?” he asks, leaning in
closely.

“Good. Most of them don’t talk about what happened
any more. Megan and I don’t know if we should talk to them about it or let them
heal in their own way,” I say, closing my eyes for a moment. For some kids, it
might be better just to let the memory fade away.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, and I open my
eyes to see the concerned look on his face. “You aren’t sleeping, are you?”

I hesitate but don’t deny the statement. I stay
awake as long as I can, and the nightmares don’t let me sleep very long.

“This isn’t the life I wanted for you,” he says
leaning towards me. He reaches out and touches my cheek, his eyes burning into
mine. “You should be able to sleep and not have nightmares.”

I put my hand on top of his. “In another world, a
better world, that might be an option. This is the world in which we live. One
where nightmares too often become reality.”

“Will you tell me about your nightmares?” he asks.

“Not today,” I answer patting his hand. “You have
your own nightmares to deal with.”

His hand drops, and he looks towards my bedroom
door. “You know I can’t sleep without you here with me.”

I look at the ground, taking a deep breath. He
hasn’t asked me to move back in, but I know he wants me to. For the first time
in a while, he isn’t pushing me; he’s letting me make my decisions at my own
pace. I can tell it’s been hard on him, but I know he’s trying to do better
with me. We both know that our issues are deeply engrained. He grew up in an
abusive household. I can’t blame him for that. He can’t keep behaving the way
that he was, but I know that he is trying his hardest. It’s more than I thought
I would ever see from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, touching my hand. His thumb
rubs along the inside of my palm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. It
isn’t your fault that I can’t sleep.”

He lets out a big yawn, and I follow it with one of
my own.

“I’m here now, why don’t you try to get some
sleep,” I suggest, standing up. I grab his shirt with my good hand and pull him
up with me.

“I don’t want to sleep away the time I have with
you,” he protests, but he doesn’t stop me from pulling him back into my
bedroom.

“I’ll be right here with you,” I promise, opening
my door. I told Ricky that he could have my room so that he would have more
privacy than his little bed in the main room, but he left everything exactly
the way I had it. I don’t think he even slept in the bed once he recovered
enough from his injuries.

“I’ll only sleep if you promise to try to sleep,
too,” he says, sitting down on my bed. “There is enough room for the two of us.
We’ve done it before.”

“I’ll lie here with you.” But I won’t sleep.

I scoot over on the bed, so I get the side with the
wall. Ricky slides in behind me, his left arm wrapping around me, pulling me
against him. His chin rests above my head, his breath tickling my scalp.
  

“This is nice,” he whispers, kissing the top of my
head. “I miss this.”

I pat his arm. “You’re my favorite space heater.”

He laughs, the motion vibrating my chest. His body
relaxes behind me, and his breathing evens out. He can fall asleep anywhere
when I’m with him.

I let myself relax, feeling safe with his arm
around me. There’s something comforting about feeling his heartbeat behind me.

We’ve had a lot of time to talk over the last
month. After a week, he refused pain medication so I’d talk with him. Most of
the time, we wouldn’t talk about anything important. He’d let me do most of the
talking, so I talked about better times. I talked about my favorite memories
with him or just favorite memories in general. He was quiet most of the time,
listening to me and only occasionally adding his own point of view into the
memory.

One of the few times he opened up to me was the
first time he ever talked with me about his mother.

“She was beautiful, before the cancer,” he said,
his eyes looking at the wall. “I think that’s part of the reason my father
hated me so much. There is so much of her in me.
More of her
than of him.
After she died, he wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t even
talk to me. You already know he didn’t take care of me. I have very few
memories of her, but I do remember that she would take care of both of us.
After she died, he didn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone me.”
 

I kept quiet, knowing that if I interrupted he
would stop talking. It was rare for him to open up about his parents. I know
from what he’s told me, what Daren has told me, and what I observed myself,
that his dad got abusive whenever he would drink. Ricky never talked about the
abuse, but I remember the bruises. The bruises happened less and less
frequently as he got older. Around the time he turned sixteen, the bruises
stopped. He moved out shortly after and started getting into trouble. It is
around that time that he met Daren.
 

This past month with Ricky just confirms that I
don’t know everything about him like I thought I did. He may be capable of
change.

That first day, when I thought he might die, a rush
of emotions overwhelmed me. I felt guilty that it was
him and
not me
. I was terrified that I might lose him. I was sad that so many
people died. I was in pain. I was angry with the people who came in and
destroyed my home. I was scared that they might come back. And a small, tiny
part of me was happy. For the first time, Ricky got a taste of his own
medicine. I think that’s what allowed him to change.

I want to believe him. Maybe he will turn out to be
more like his mother than his father.

May 11