The Risen: Dawning (23 page)

“Are you happy now?” Lawless asks, still fighting against the door with his strength. He grabs me, roughly pulling me through the door before I can debate the answer, letting it slam shut behind him when he moves. The noises its closure causes could be the soundtrack of Hell itself with the many demonic fists pounding against the wood.

Marxx is on the floor with the rest of the men rushing to him. Except for Ross. Ross is standing with Aimes in the far corner, safe from it all. They refuse to see what lays bleeding in the middle of the room. If it is weakness or guilt, I don’t know. Either way, they both make me angry with their sought out seclusion from it.

Chapel and Rhett are trying to stop the bleeding with the many shirts they have pulled from the hangers around them. Their hands are covered with blood and it continues to seep through despite their best efforts. Their love for the man before them escalates their fears, rushing their movements as his blood coats them, staining them with the warm, red proof of their loyalty.

I walk to Aimes, grabbing her overly large purse, searching within it for what we need with mental clarity from some depth I am not aware of having. I pull a pastel-pink wrapped square from inside the purse before tossing it back to her. I refuse to acknowledge her in any other fashion. I do not have the time to ease her fears or anxieties. For once, the room does not revolve around the pixie.

The paper refuses to cooperate with my shaking hands. I whimper with my frustrations and my need to help Marxx, the man who has risked his own life for mine. Lawless takes the package from my hands, leaving me still frozen with the movement of holding it. My mind wants to shut down, too much has happened in too short of a time, but I fight against it. There is still too much to do. He takes it to open it for me as we head to Marxx and the many crimson soaked pieces of fabric piling up around him. God told them to paint their doors with the blood and they would be spared. We keep painting the floors and have been spared nothing.

J.D. spares a laugh when he sees what Lawless has in his hands. “Holy hell, Helena. Your sweet ass may just be worth it to keep saving.”

J.D. takes the maxi pad and pushes it firmly onto the gaping section of Marxx’ arm. He holds it into place as Rhett rips more shirts into long pieces of fabric to tie around the arm. The adhesive backing clings to the fabric, keeping it in place on his arm. The bleeding is finally contained and Lawless and Rhett help him stand. Marxx is weak from blood loss and I know if he dies, it will be another grave to add to my collection.

“We need to go now.” Ross keeps staring at the back door. The knob is slowly starting to turn now that the frenzy has died down and the Risen have switched back to their hunting mode. No one argues with him or with the cold dread the motion of the rotating knob brings.

“Go.Go.Go.” J.D. whispers, shoving us out the store door.

“Whoa.” Ross stops short when he sees the new crowd that has formed outside the store.

What was once empty and desolate is now filled with many broken shapes that are mingling around one another like a dinner party in Hell. Now, with the new guests spilling out of the store, they turn to see us with as much eagerness as any host would. They are not interested in inviting us to dinner though; we are the dinner.

“How many rounds you have?” J.D. whispers to the men around me.

“Full clip.” Lawless answers, shifting Marxx’ weight so that he can give his gun to Chapel.

“Same.” Rhett says, but he is not handing his off. He will have to be the one to defend them with Lawless now unarmed and Marxx floating in and out from pain.

Ross says nothing. Somehow, I am not surprised. Maybe we can blind them with his super white teeth and buy us time to run. It seems to be a legit plan in my mind. I miss my mind.

“Get him out of here.” J.D. tells Rhett and Lawless. “Take Blondie with you. Get his bike loaded in the back of that truck.”

They do not question him. Nor does Aimes, as she follows them out, searching for another way back to our vehicles. The path we used to come in is now blocked before us with various Risen staring at us. J.D. hands me the gun strapped to the top of his boot with a grin. He means for me to stay with Chapel and him to keep the exit safe. A part of me wants to be flattered, but I am mostly just tired, and ready to go “home.”

“Try not to get up close and personal this time, OK Barbie? We need to keep some space between us and them to buy our crew some time.” He tells me, still wearing his grin.

I nod as my vocabulary is failing me. I force what energy I have left into this moment. Marxx may die for me, the least I can do is try to stay awake for him. Seems simple enough after the morning we have had.

The horde in front of us is watching our slightest of movements, trying to gain a clue to our intentions. Many of them were not aware enough to notice the few of us that had escaped from them moments ago. The maxi pad is collecting the blood, keeping its intoxicating scent locked away from them. If we play this right, we may not need to shoot at all, but when has life ever been that gracious?

Something slams against the store window next to Chapel. He fires the first shot, hitting a Risen directly, crumpling it to the ground. J.D. and I turn to look at him with disbelief and he follows the motion, turning to look at the window that startled him. Encouraged with their loss of food, the Risen from the back room have figured out the doorknob, allowing them to escape into the store’s center. They are now pounding on the glass, trying to break through it to reach us. I am grateful that we are no longer standing in front of the swinging door with the new skill set the Risen have learned. It is frightening how they can adapt so well. Monsters are not supposed to be smart. They have an unbalanced playing field already.

“I think I got their attention.” Chapel watches as the group outside stares at their fallen friend before looking back to us with the realization of the cause of it.

“I think you have.” J.D. says without emotion. “We are going to walk backwards, slow like. Try not to shoot anymore unless we have to. Never was real good in math, but I count more before us than our clips can hold.”

Ross stays behind us like the winner he is while we walk backwards. The Risen on both sides of the glass are following each step we take. The ones outside are watching us and the store group, trying to form the missing link for the anger. Should this group also be lured into a frenzy, we will lead them right to the very people we are trying to protect. As J.D.’s math problem pointed out, we cannot stand against this many.

“You know the way out?” Chapel asks Ross. His gun sweeps the space before him, keeping track of what is between him and the creatures stalking us.

“Yeah. Take a right.” Ross calls out each turn for us to take in our backwards escape.

We never take more distance than what is already between us to avoid agitating them. As long as they can see us, they seem to be content in stalking us, plotting our deaths with their ever watching eyes. This plan will not help us escape though. I wonder if J.D. is starting to see the folly of choosing a motorcycle as your apocalyptic vehicle.

J.D. abandons his backwards walk beside me. It stirs growls and other noises from the Risen in front of us as their eyes watch him. His kicking of the many standing trash bins to scatter the mess in front of us brings the beasts forward. Anger and hunger drags snarling faces into action with J.D.’s noise and movements. They are close to their frenzy.

“Man, what are you doing?” Ross asks, with the panic of seeing their reactions.

“My job.” He answers, as if it should be plain to see to anyone other then to someone like Ross. “Run if you want.”

“Do and I’ll shoot you.” Chapel tells him, knowing that the sight of Ross running away will be the final push needed to trigger them.

Ross actually has the nerve to look to me for protection. Sorry, all I want is a nap and a warm blanket. A hot bath would be nice, with bubbles that foam thick with their perfume. Too much to hope for? The value of his life on my to do list must have shown on my face. He does not run. He is not smiling either. Bonus.

Chapel has figured out what J.D. is doing. He also begins to kick objects of the various littered items in front of us. I am a tad disappointed that I have, yet again, failed to grasp what is going on. Instead I stand, keeping my aim locked on the closest Risen, trying to look very intimidating. I giggle with the many faces I make at them in my pursuit of intimidation.

“Shit.” Chapel says staring at me. I must have finally found a scary face.

“Yup.” J.D. answers him, his voice still empty of emotions, but I know he is agreeing with my face. “Girly, I need you to stay focused just a little bit longer.”

“I need a nap.” I tell them, thinking it explains everything. Little do I know, it really does just that.

“I know, Girly. Just stay with me a bit longer then we will get you that nap.” J.D. leans over the pile of trash that he has somehow made into a thick line in front of us. I am not sure how I missed him doing that. The Risen seem to have snuck up on us a lot faster than I remembered them moving. My head clears with the awareness of the missing time.

“Focus.” Chapel whispers to me, taking the gun from my hand. He feels so warm behind me. I had not realized how cold I have grown. “When he lights that, we will run. Stay with me Hells.”

I do not understand why they keep telling me to “stay with them”. I have no desire to stay here. I am cold, tired, and having a hard time focusing. Not to mention, we have already discovered Aimes’ driving skills with a stick. They need me, I hear Ashley’s voice tell me again. I don’t think that is what she had in mind.

The fire is instant and bright. The Risen pause, being unsure of what this is before them and what it may do to them. They search the catalog of their broken minds to find the clues they need to piece this new puzzle together. J.D. runs to me, turning me around, as Chapel drags me forward. My feet will not keep up with him with how heavy they feel. Screams of Hell’s anger start behind us with the sight of our escape through the bright fire. My feet are fine now. Light as a feather.

The motorcycles are running and waiting for us. Even my truck sits with her engine purring. Lawless and Rhett have wasted no time in their waiting for us. Aimes is sitting in the cab of the truck, keeping pressure on Marxx’ arm. J.D. stops me from climbing into the driver’s seat. He turns to Ross with the full weight of his cold steel colored stare.

“Get them back. Safely. No more games. “ He tells Ross, pushing me further down the bench so Ross can drive. J.D.’s words punctuate the possible risk of severity with Ross’ failure to do so.

For once, Ross does not smile. He does not argue. He climbs silently behind the steering wheel, tossing the bag with the list and its items onto the floor in front of Aimes.

“Keep her awake.” J.D. barks his final command to Ross before slamming the door shut.

The men ride out of the parking lot as the first of the burning corpses comes around the store’s corner. Its whole body is in flames, but it keeps coming towards us as the flames grow. It has no need of the organs that are melting or any knowledge of pain the fire causes to them. One by one, the parking lot fills with the walking torches, their flesh melting and bubbling from the heat of the licking flames. Some make it further than others before they fall to the ground with the damage the fire does to the muscles of their bodies. The sight is horrific, with the amount of the still moving, burning bodies filling the parking lot. The imagery of their crawling forms, roasting from the fire, trying to reach us grants me new nightmares. The smell will forever linger in my mind like smoke on clothes

“Stop looking.” Marxx whispers, weak from his wound, to Aimes and me with the shock of what is before us on our faces.

Ross pulls out onto the street and puts it all behind us. I only wish it would stay there. I know when I close my eyes tonight, that it will be back. It is always so much worse in dreams.

“Did you know what was in that room? Is that why that store had the most build up blocking the door? You stored them in there?” I am not sure the implications of his words to Ross. I stay silent; as does everyone else.

“You’re a dead man. They will kill you for this.” Marxx’ voice is deeper than normal. I shiver with it. He places his hand on my leg, trying to reassure me. “You did good.”

Looking at his grey face, I do not feel as if I “did good”. I feel as if I have led another to slaughter. Seems I have run out of lambs and have now moved on to black sheep. I’m a busy girl.

He smiles at me. “Just a flesh wound. My ex used to do way worse.”

“Was she a biter, too?” Aimes asks, trying to bring a laugh back into the situation. He chuckles and it is enough. It is enough to let us know he will make it “home”. I am just unsure of which home is calling to him.

T
he courtyard is clear of the many mingling people it normally holds. Even the numerous positioned metal barrels that hold the fires giving the area warmth are unlit. No signs of life are escaping the doors or many high windows of the building. If it was not for how completely unrealistic it would be, I would think the place to be deserted. With how much it sets me at unease, it seems to confirm something for the men. Their faces hold their anger as they park beside us, scanning the area for signs of something I don’t see, each reaching for holstered weapons. Chapel seems to be the only one that is as confused as I am.

J.D. swings open the driver door, once again forcing Ross from the truck and onto the floor of the courtyard. He kicks the man to the ground, watching him fall on the hard cement, trying to protect himself from the blows J.D. lands upon him. Satisfied that Ross is too broken to escape, J.D. stops his torment. He walks slowly around the man that is crippled before him.

“Get him on his knees.” J.D. motions for Lawless. Ross’ bleeding body is lifted as it sags between Rhett’s and Lawless’ support.

“What are you doing?” Chapel asks them, lost in his confusion and outrage. Someone must pay for the spilled blood of their Brother. Chapel is just unsure why it is Ross.

“You ain’t figured it out?” J.D. asks him. “Let me know the moment you do.” I watch as J.D. pulls his soul’s coldness to the surface of his face. He is reaching deep into the darkest parts of himself for what he is about to do. Even as he reaches for it, he will love every minute.

J.D. turns to the building’s high walls as Lawless and Rhett hold Ross between them. Ross is bleeding from the face with the many kicks from J.D. and his breathing is labored hinting at the damage done to his body. J.D. chambers his gun and points it at Ross, waiting for any movement towards us.

“I know you are watching up there.” J.D. shouts. It echoes off the high walls and repeats back to us as if the building is mocking our display. “Bet you didn’t think to see us again, did ya?”

The courtyard vibrates with his anger and still no acknowledgment comes from the building. J.D. turns to walk behind Ross and points the gun to the back of his head. Ross starts to make sobbing sounds between forming words that beg for his life. He is suddenly very sorry for something.

“Helena?” Chapel leans into the truck door looking at me. His eyes are pleading with me to do something to stop what is about to happen. At what point did I become the champion for J.D.’s targets? Someone seriously failed to give me that memo.

“No.” Marxx’ deep gravel comes from beside me. His eyes are closed and he seems paler than he was moments ago. “You two still don’t get it do you? They knew. They knew what would happen. Ross did his job for them. Now he has to pay for us.”

There was almost a sound when it all came together for me. The pointless items that were on the list for us to get. How nervous Ross was this morning. How he did not want to leave the parking lot. How he had refused to go into the back of the store and tried to keep me with him, sending them in alone. It was never about our finding the items on the list. It was about our finding the dead in the store and to see what would happen when we did.

Marxx laughs a tired laugh, seeing it finally make sense for us. “J.D. won’t kill him. It’s not Ross he wants.”

“What does he want?” Aimes is her own shade of grey with her small voice weaker than normal.

“For you three to come home.” Marxx tells us as his fight is fading from him with the pain. “He wants you to see what they really are. We aren’t the only monsters. We are just honest about what we are.”

Right now Marxx looks far from any monster I have ever dreamed. He is pale and fading in front of me. His face is contorting from the pain in his arm. The pain my own pride has caused him. He has risked his life to save me from not only me, or the Risen, but also from the people I thought were our new friends. He could have let me go to save himself, but he did not. He held on to me through the pain and the terror. Monsters do not do that. Monsters let you fall while watching the pain the fall causes. I wonder if they are watching us now.

“You best plead to your pals, Ross. Not to me. I ain’t your pal.” J.D. smiles his soul-damning smile to the kneeling man before him. “You would have let us die in there. That was your job right? Lead us to them? Take notes about what happened to report back to your pals here? Pals that sure don’t seem to give a shit about you now.”

Ross is incoherent as he fights against the many words that are pouring from him in his fear.

“He almost cost us our own today. How’s that make you boys feel?” J.D. steps back, letting his words settle over the two men supporting Ross. He puts his gun back into its holster, signaling that it is their turn to do as they will. He has given his blessing to do as they want with Ross. A priest’s blessing can save your soul for Heaven. J.D.’s can torment it to Hell.

Lawless drops the arm he is holding, letting Ross droop from the sudden lack of support. He reaches into the top of his boot, pulling the hidden pistol from its holster. I should have known Lawless would never be completely unarmed. He makes a great show of undoing the clip, checking it for ammo, before putting it back in the gun. Every one of us knows that he is aware of exactly how many rounds each of his guns are holding at all times. Every one of us but Ross and those watching behind wire patterned safety glass. He chambers the gun, letting the metal sound echo off the high walls around us. Every metallic snap brings Ross that much closer to panic.

Lawless kneels down to look Ross straight in the face. “Tell me, how can we all work this out now?” He asks him, repeating the lines Ross used at the Welcome Center back to him. Lawless makes a simple nod of his head and Rhett understands the meaning completely. I wish he had not.

Rhett grabs Ross, pulling his head back with the leverage of his hair brown shaggy hair. He forces Ross’ mouth open by applying pressure to his cheeks, threatening to break his teeth if he does not cooperate. The pain from the pressure forces Ross to submit, finally opening his mouth for them. Lawless shoves the gun barrel into that opening, forcing his mouth to open wider or risk damage. He stands, pulling Ross’s head up with the force of the barrel. Rhett is stepping to the side, away from the two men watching, and waiting, to see how far Lawless will go with this.

“Scream.” Lawless’ voice holds no more emotion than commenting on the weather. It gives his words that much more of a chill. “I want to hear you scream. I want your screams to comfort me tonight as hers will haunt me.”

Ross looks confused by the request. He shakes his head not understanding.

“Scream!” Lawless yells into his face. His rage is exploding finally under the release of its restraints. He shoves the gun further down Ross’ throat, tilting his head back further.

Screams and tears fall from Ross. Each scream is louder than the last. Each tear is faster than the first. The courtyard fills with it until the sound is one long echo of terror. I am dancing on a tight rope with my emotions and the knowledge of the fact that another may die from my actions. I should really come with a warning label.

Marxx said that J.D. would not kill Ross. He never mentioned that Lawless wouldn’t. It is the small words that form every meaning in their secret life. A simple switch of a name and all promises are wiped away. Am I brave enough to sit here and let this play out? Or, is it really weakness to sit here and do nothing?

A noise from the archway behind us pulls my attention to the mirror on the truck’s door. Shelia is running towards them, her face a visible testament to how their actions are affecting her. J.D. is still and watching her run towards them. Like a spider in its web waiting for the prey to become trapped. He had fun playing with Ross, now he has a better subject to use to taunt the people in the high school. Their Queen is now his.

One moment he is relaxed and watching her, but as she grows even with him he lunges, grabbing her in a backwards hug. He picks her up off the ground, spinning her in two full rotations as she screams, beating against his arms with her tiny fists. It encourages him, his laughter a strange sound to be mixing with Ross’ mumbling pleading and Shelia’s screams.

He drops her, letting her fall to the courtyard’s hard cement floor, dizzy from the spinning. Kneeling over her fallen body that now shakes with her silent sobs, he runs his hands over her shoulders and down her back. He lets his face show the male enjoyment of her skin under his hands. His long unfulfilled hunger is showing before us.

“Where is your boy now?” J.D. whispers into her ear, as his eyes scan the upper windows for any movement.

“Now we can have us a party, boys!” He pushes her forward, making her fall to her hands and knees, letting the position hint at his intentions.

At least I hope it is a hint. Of all the sins J.D. can claim, never has one been rape. He has always told the other men of the club that only the weak force themselves where they are not wanted. A real man does not have to sink to such levels to strike fear. Fear is something to be flavored and drawn out. It should be the least expected, not the most expected of what a man can do. To be discovered as a rapist in his club is not a death sentence. Death would be a welcome after what he will do. Now with this new dare, I wonder how much room he has left himself.

Lawless made Ross scream for what felt like hours condensed into minutes with no response from inside. Shelia’s first real scream, and the doors open with such force that their hinges fight to keep them from hitting the stone walls. It makes J.D. smile his wide grin, pulling Shelia up and close to him.

“There he is. Smile for him, Hun. Let him see that pretty face of yours.” He holds her as she fights against him. He lets her sway with her efforts. It puts on a better show for the others to see her so distressed, held tightly against his body.

Marxx is right, the ones he is holding now are not his targets. Shelia never was. Ross never was. What he wants is standing a few feet from him now. He wants their grief, their anger, their fear with not knowing what will happen next. He wants them to beg for his mercy as he feels they should have from day one.

“Enough.” Simon says. “Just let her go.”

“Just let her go he says. Just like that he asks? Oh brother, I don’t think so. You and me, we going to have us a little chat first.” J.D. tells Simon, pausing to inhale the scent of Shelia’s neck. Feeling him so close to her makes her fight harder to be free. Simon’s panic is flooding his senses.

“We can talk about whatever you want, after you let her go.” Simon lifts the rifle on his side in a peace gesture. He puts it down on the cement next to him with his hands raised. “You want me. You just let her go and I’ll come to you. A simple switch.”

“That’s real sweet of you, but you ain’t really my type.” J.D. smiles, as his hand cups Shelia’s inner thigh. It has its desired effect.

Simon rushes forward, even as Richard grabs him, tackling him to the ground. Richard is speaking in his ear, trying to reassure him, to calm him, but the words are not reaching him. J.D. knows how to play this game well. He knows the pressure points to spring forth reactions. Everyone is a book to J.D. and he read Simon’s chapters a long time ago.

“What do you want?” Richard shouts across the courtyard. “You want to talk? Talk!”

J.D. pauses, his mind reassessing this new target. Shelia’s abuse will not bring the same anger from this new man before him now. To keep the pressure going, he has to find a new method of torment. He must find a new weakness to exploit.

“You know, I find it real funny no one has begged for Ross yet. Do you find that funny too, Hun?” He asks Shelia. He is testing these new waters that rock underneath him.

“Ever seen a man die? It’s a messy business. At this short range here, his head will explode. It will spray Smiley bits all over this area. That kind of stain, it will last and last. Always here to remind you and yours how you let us kill him.” He turns Shelia so she is fully facing Lawless and Ross.

“Now keep your eyes open. You don’t want to miss this.” He whispers to her. It works.

“No!” She screams. “Don’t do this. It wasn’t his fault. They told him to. Don’t do this.”

“You want to see what they told him to do? Keep your eyes open. Let me show you what they told him to do.” J.D. looks to Chapel, tilting his head towards us in the truck.

The Jedi mind trick works and Chapel understands exactly what he wants. Perhaps if I had a nice shiny leather vest, I too could figure out what is going on around me. If Santa is still alive, it is totally going on my list this year.

Chapel helps me from the tall truck. My legs are jelly underneath me, and I have to brace against its bed for support. Next, he reaches for Marxx, who is pale and panting from the wound of his arm. He too is bracing against the truck, but for worse reasons than mine. Aimes slides out on her own, standing to the other side of Marxx. I am not sure what this display is supposed to accomplish until I look at the three of us. Evil genius, our J.D.