Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders (13 page)

The square was teeming with life. Torches were lit all the way around the perimeter, sending tendrils of smoke spiraling away with the light breeze. People gave her strange looks as she passed through. She was wearing a clean shirt and the bleeding had stopped, so that wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was her puffy, reddened eyes. Or the uncomfortably hunched position she adopted to try to lessen the pain.

There was dancing. People laughing. Food smells wafted through the air. Her head spun with the sensory overload. This wasn’t just a funeral, this was a
party
, and she hadn’t seen anything even resembling a party since before the apocalypse. There were
children
playing
.
It felt downright magical; she knew she was gaping as she looked around but she couldn’t seem to stop.

“You lost, darlin’?” One of the bikers paused in front of her. He held a jar of dark brown liquid. She turned her wide-eyed gaze up at his grizzled face.

“Is that
moonshine?
” she asked.

“It is.” He pressed the jar into her hands. “Drink up, sweetheart.”

She sniffed it. It smelled vile.
And you don’t drink,
she reminded herself. Then again, maybe it would help alleviate the pain in her back.
That’s what men used to do in the movies, in Westerns, after being shot
. The magic of the party must have touched her. It was as if she’d slipped into another world entirely. If drinking the alcohol could sooth her wounds, it was worth a try.
I’m already sinning so much already, what’s one more?
she thought, feeling a little delirious as she took a sip.

“Not bad, right?” the man laughed.

She choked but somehow managed to keep it down. It scorched her already sore throat and lit a fire in her belly. “Are you sure this isn’t poisonous?” she asked.

“It’s the best kind of poison. Keep that one.”

“Is Call around?”

“The president’s that way,” he said, pointing through the crowd. “Enjoy the drink, little lady.” He pushed his way in the other direction. She tried to navigate through all the people pressing in but it was hard with all the jostling and dancing. With every sharp stab of pain she took another sip and prayed for relief. Her back was still on fire but she was feeling warmer all over, too. Her head swam a little as she peered around.
Maybe it just makes you forget the pain instead of actually doing anything for it.
She drank another sip. Anything would be better than what she was feeling.

She finally found him seated in an armchair and flanked by other bikers and pretty women. Her heart sank when she saw them.
Foolish girl, of course he’s going to find someone else. You left him!
It didn’t make it hurt any less. Those around him seemed to be enjoying themselves but the president himself was an island of sorrow. He smiled and spoke to his friends, but she knew his face well enough, now. Those smiles were fake. His head was somewhere else.

He jumped to his feet when he spotted her. Muttering curses, he rushed to her, grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the revelers, outside the perimeter of the torches. “Let me see,” he growled.

She shook her head. Just the touch of his hand on hers was crumbling her resolve to remain with the family.
That’s all it takes? One stupid touch and I”m ready to run away? What is
wrong
with me?
He started to wrap his arms around her but she cried out and jumped away, out of his reach.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Please, let me see so I can help.”

She knew there’d be no deterring him.
I should have hidden it better.
She turned and lifted her shirt partways. He hissed. “That’s it. We’re getting the rest of those girls out of there.”

“No!” She turned and grabbed his arm as he signaled to all the Devil’s Ashes members he could see. “Wait, please, Call-”
This isn’t what I wanted to happen!

He ignored her. Ripp and two other bikers she didn’t recognize approached. “Need something?” they asked.

“We’re breaking up that little cult tonight,” he said. “Lia, were they asleep when you left?”

“Don’t do this!” She put a hand to her chest where her thudding heart was threatening to escape.

“They’re going in with or without your help,” he said, his face stern. “If it’s with, then we can expect everyone to get out in one piece.”

Trapped. No choice. Oh, God, I’m sorry…
“Promise you won’t hurt them,” she said to the men. With their beards and leather vests and weapons jutting from their beltlines, they looked terrifying. Dangerous.
They’re going to tear the family apart. I’ve betrayed them…

“We’ll do our best, sugar,” Ripp said, “Promise you that.”

Shaking, head spinning, she described the space and where the girls were - three in one office, Simone in the hall, Father Speer in the second office. “Don’t hurt the minister, either,” she made Ripp promise as well.

“I want him locked up,” Call said, “And I want those girls placed with whatever family’s got space. Understand?”

“Got it, boss.”

Lia hiccuped as they watched them go. Call looked down at the jar in her hands. “Helping much?” he asked.

“No.” She took a big swig, making Call’s eyes go wide. “I don’t see what the fuss is about. Why are you doing this, Call, they didn’t hurt you!”

He ignored her statement and reached out to take the jar from her. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“It’s mine, it was a gift,” she said, turning away with it. “One of your friends gave it to me. He was…” She couldn’t remember his face. “Tall.”

“We’re all tall next to you. Now hand it over.” He grabbed for it again and she let him take it. It didn’t taste very good anyway.

“I didn’t come out here to betray my family,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I came out here to tell you something and now I don’t remember what.” She scowled to herself. Her words sounded funny to her ears. “I guess I should go back to them.”

Call chuckled. “We just sent my guys to break down the doors, remember?” He was holding her hand and leading her somewhere. Not back to the party.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say.
I should feel worse about this, shouldn’t I? I just let the devil’s men inside. I’m letting them take the girls and imprison Father Speer. Shouldn’t I feel bad?
She did feel guilt and fear for their safety, but that was it. More than anything, as her shock and anger faded, she just wanted hold Call’s hand, to kiss him again.
Weak and foolish girl. Did the alcohol have a hand in this?
“Did you know we were gonna shoot our way out? Well, they were. I don’t think I could ever shoot you.” She reached up and touched the stubble on his jaw.

“Oh, honey, you’re drunk,” he said. Amusement and worry warred in his voice. “I guess that’s a good thing with your back and all, but you’ve got to lie down.”

“Wait, I remember,” she said, stopping their walk. The party was a little further away, the night around them a little quieter. “I needed to say I was sorry for leaving after saying I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“You meant it at the time.” His look made her heart ache all over again.”I’m just glad you got out of there. I’m glad he didn’t brainwash you beyond all reason.”

“Brainwash?” She recoiled. “I’m not brainwashed, Call. I can think for myself.”

“But those thoughts are confused, aren’t they?” he asked gently. “He’s got you all mixed up straight on down to your sense of right and wrong.” He took her hand. “Think about it, Lia. My guys brought him and those girls in here safe and sound and whole, and they were planning on gunning down those same men to get out. They weren’t even prisoners. Our only rule about leaving is that you do it when the sun is up.”

She covered her face with her hands and moaned. Her head ached, everything ached. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, “I need to lie down.”

“Okay. Come on.” He led her by the elbow. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I’ll take care of you.”
The words echoed in her head. Wasn’t that all that she wanted? After everything that had happened - losing her family to the shambling corpses before they even knew what was happening. Losing the farm and her second, post-apocalypse family. All she’d wanted was someone to watch out for her, someone she could watch out for in return. Wasn’t that all anybody wanted?

Call was right. Her ideas of right and wrong were all twisted up. Father Speer taught her to shoot, to defend herself and her friends. But he also ruled her and the girls with an iron fist. They made no choices, had no say. Disagreement was enough to earn a few lashes. She hadn’t hurt anyone, but her back was criss-crossed with twenty bright red lines. Fear and doubt plagued her and trapped her just on the wrong side of sleep.
So tired. So goddamn tired.
Another word she’d picked up from Call. He had her all confused, too. She groaned into the pillows.

He’d left her alone in the apartment as soon as he’d made sure she was comfortable. Between the funeral party and the raid on her friends, he had a lot of business to take care of.

It was well past sunup by the time he returned. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her hair away from her face. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not really. What happened?”

“No one got shot,” he said with a wry smile. “We separated the girls, took all their weapons. For now.”

“And the minister?”

“Locked down. Safe and unharmed and under guard.”

“When can I see him?”

Call sighed and looked away. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“No. But when?”

“Maybe when you’ve healed some. I don’t want you moving around too much right now.” He was right about that. Her wounds weren’t as bad as she was afraid they were at first, but it was best to avoid irritating them and tearing them back open until more time had passed.

“Thank you,” she said, resting her hand on his knee. “You don’t have to do all this for me.” He squeezed her hand, but then he stood and moved away.

“Hungry?” He kept his eyes averted, too. It occurred to her then that her actions may have actually hurt him. She’d been so wrapped up worrying about the minister and so fixated on his reactions, what he would think of what she’d done, how he would judge her heart and her soul, that she’d never paused for a second to consider what she’d done to Call.

“A little hungry,” she whispered.

He only away stepped into the kitchen but as far as it felt, they may as well have been miles apart.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

Being so close to him and so distant at the same time was a brand new form of torture. He didn’t even sleep with her. She had no idea how much she missed it until she shared a space with him again but was denied the comfort of his arms. He disappeared for hours at a time, busy with the business of being the president of the Devil’s Ashes, busy with the problems of the compound’s residents, just
busy.
He looked after her but he wasn’t
with
her, and it was driving her to tears.

Toughen up
, she told herself. Her back healed slowly but surely. By the fourth day she could manage her normal range of movements without pain. The wounds were still tender to touch but she’d managed to avoid infection, and that was the most important part of recovery. Call assured her that he’d snip the stitches out as soon as he had a chance before disappearing for the afternoon. She wondered if it meant she could visit the minister soon. She didn’t dare ask. Not yet.

She was growing stir crazy too as time passed and her lashes healed. He had some books lying around the apartment but they could only entertain her for so long. She watched the compound activity through his window. She could just see the square area if she craned her neck, but there was plenty of bustling right in front of his building as well. People walked with wheelbarrows of dirt - planting somewhere, as he’d promised when they’d first met. Sacks of laundry traveled back and forth from somewhere else. She even saw a young boy playing with a dog early in the morning. It was disconcertingly
normal
, and she longed to be a part of it.