The Rising

by Eli Constant

  Finally I found what I was looking for. Wound up in brown boxes with black lettering were lengths of heater hose. Most of them where in excess of four feet, but the one I chose was almost seven feet in length. Even in a diesel, if you blow a hose you lose all your coolant and won’t be going far. Once I’d seen the array of truck repair items, I’d known they’d have this particular item. Turning the box around in my hand, a satisfied smile started to cross my face.

  The expression was interrupted.

  “You plan on paying for that?”

  I froze. The harsh rough voice was mere feet behind me and the accompanying prod in my back was a good indicator that whoever the hell I’d just disturbed was armed.

  ***

  SHERRY

  “Don’t worry, Marty, Juan will be back. We just have to sit tight for a while.” I made the words sound as soothing as I could, but the boy’s body kept vibrating, shaking with fear. I hadn’t been helping matters, not with my meltdown at the marina. And I just can’t seem to keep my damn temper with Juan. He’s just being…he’s being such a fucking man. There were moments recently where it was hard to recall what I ever saw in him.

  You know, beside the tight muscled ass and six-pack.

  I sighed, hugged the boy tighter. My arms flexing seemed to awaken his voice.

  “You don’t know that,” the boy whispered, scooting a fraction away from me to be closer to Frank. The dog had perked up since Juan had left, as if he’d realized he was the man of the house now. He couldn’t protect us, though. He wasn’t strong right now. I felt some responsibility for that—I’m the one who’d had to go to the marina. I’m the one who’d had to make the call to Susan on the way there.

  Every injury the dog had was a result of my decisions.

  Frank gave a low growl when Marty came near him. It wasn’t aggressive. No, it was like the dog was trying to reassure the boy. Like the grumble was meant more as a lullaby than a warning. I had done what I could to help him, trying to splint the injured leg using a magazine and strips of cloth. He had been patient, in pain, but knowing I was trying to help. The leg would never be the same, if it healed…when it healed…he would always have a limp. With a little luck, it wouldn’t cause him pain for the rest of his life. I felt I’d failed him, damn lovable dog.

  I left the two on the bed to rest and I went to stand next to the window. Juan had just started walking away from the RV. He looked so small, even only a yard or two from the vehicle. It’s because everything around him is too quiet. And too open. The scattering of big rigs wasn’t enough to break the solace, like a scattering of ants across a giant picnic blanket.

  I was worried that something was going to explode out of that silence, fall upon Juan like rabid animals, and then he would be gone. And I haven’t been very nice to him. Why are we unkind to people we truly care about? Is it because they’re easy targets?

  Sighing, I turned around and picked up the shotgun from where it was set on the built-in side table to the left of the bed. It felt good in my hands, like I was back hunting with Dad. The least I could do in the moment was keep the gun ready just in case Juan needed back up. I loaded the gun. From this distance, I could easily hit something. Of course, when he went into the gas station’s store, I’d be helpless. I don’t want to be helpless.

  That’s how I’d felt at the marina—when Juan had taken control and we’d left Susan and the kids and Grant behind. I don’t have an excuse for the way I kind of lost it. Not really. I’m a grown-ass adult and I know I scared the hell out of Marty. But in that moment, as I’d watched the boat get further away and my friend with it, I’d felt like it was the end.

  Like dying must be what was coming next.

  So, yeah, I’d crumpled and I’d lost control and I’d become the damsel in distress. So freaking sue me. The world was crazy as my Aunt Jane now. It would eat you right up if you let it. God…I still didn’t know what to think about what was happening. I still didn’t fully ‘get’ it.

  Absentmindedly, I rocked back on the heels of my shoes, before remembering that one of the kitten heels was broken. I nearly lost my balance but grabbed the thin window sill with the hand that wasn’t supporting the gun. It felt like I’d been wearing the broken shoes for an eternity, so long that compensating for the unevenness had become pretty second nature.

  In reality it hadn’t been that long at all. The end of the world—when time doesn’t mean anything anymore and everything comes down to a pinpoint of light that is the hope that you might survive.

  “Sherry?” Marty’s voice held only the slightest quiver now. It seemed Frank had been successful in calming him down. I turned around, letting a small smile curve my lips.

  “What’s up, buddy.” It hurt a little, calling Marty “Buddy.” It made me think of Marcel. It’s what I’d always called him. And Sophia had been Bug or Ladybug. I stopped the train of thought before it could lead me towards Susan.

  “Can you still see Juan?” The little boy stroked Frank’s fur slowly, methodically, like the repetitive movement was all that was keeping the dark reality of the world at bay.

  “Yeah. He’s getting pretty close to the building,” I said, flicking a glance back out the window towards the man that, despite our squabbling and harsh words, still made my heart pitter-patter just a little faster than normal. I’d not tell him that right now. Maybe when things settled down. If they ever did.

  “You think there’s anything in there?” He paused, swallowed. “You know, not stuff or food, but…those things?”

  I tried to infuse more warmth into my smile. “I think if there were any of the bad things here, that they’d have already come out by now. Don’t you?” Again, I turned and found Juan in the distance. He seemed to feel me looking. Or maybe he just had the impulse to look at me at the same time because he half-turned, his face finding my own. I lifted my hand and pressed it against the window glass. He didn’t wave back.

  “I guess. They seem to like noise.” Marty leaned down and snuggled his face against Frank. “Frank’s breathing seems a little better.”

  “I’m glad.” Looking back out the window again, I saw Juan forcing the front door of the convenience store open. I wished it were one of those small places—only a few aisles, large windows expanding across the entire front entrance. If he was entering one of those, I’d be able to see him. Even if he dropped out of sight for a moment behind a chip display I could wait until he reappeared on the other side.

  And I wouldn’t be so scared for him.

  Or for me and Marty. Because if Juan died, I wasn’t sure I could keep us alive. Sure, I could hit better than the broadside of a barn with the shotgun, but the shells would run out eventually. Or I’d miss my target at the wrong moment. And we’d be dead. Just like that.

  I waited until Juan went in, his figure almost instantly obscured by the tinted glass and crowd of vending machines outside the building. I felt my heart jump into my throat and stay there, a lump that wasn’t going to budge no matter how hard I swallowed. I left my position at the window and went to sit on the bed, kicking my shoes off as soon as my butt made full contact. The bed is tall enough that only the tips of my toes can reach the ground. My hand went to Frank’s body. I don’t move it and join Marty in petting. I just let my palm rest against the big dog’s stomach, letting the feel of his breathing reassure me that he’s not headed to doggy heaven.

  We sat there for a while in companionable silence.

  “I think about my mom a lot. Izzy and Sam, too. You think they’re okay now?” Marty breaks the silence and I jump a little. I’d lapsed into a sort of dazed trance.

  Great job, Sherry. Just sit here in la-la land. No problem. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to be scared of. Just a bunch of undead creatures waiting to eat you alive.

  “Sherry?” Marty’s looking at me. I’d been quiet too long.

  “I think they’re fine, Marty. I’m sure they’re…I’m sure they’re fine.” Even I could hear the lie in my words. Hollow
, empty. Pathetic.

  I was about to try and say something else, attempt something that didn’t sound like a load of adult bullshit but a noise outside arrested my voice. It wasn’t loud. In fact, it was so deliberately quiet that it scared me more. Someone was trying to approach the RV without alerting us. And I knew, if that were the case, then it sure as heck wasn’t Juan.

  “Marty,” I whispered, trying to sound calm, “you stay on the bed with Frank. Okay?”

  “Um… okay.” He sounded unsure, his dark gray eyes tight around the edges. He looked so vulnerable there, with his tousled dirty blonde hair and mouth pulled into a taut line. He could see through me. My dad used to say I was a terrible actress and I couldn’t lie to save my life. That’s what acting is, in a way, personifying a lie. I’d tried the theater thing in high school and it had been a bloody disaster. I studied for weeks, knew every line inside and out, and when that curtain rose, shit, I was a tangle of nerves. The review in the paper had been more than brutal.

  Standing up, but also keeping my upper body leaning forward so not too much of me would show as I approached the window, I walked to the opposite side of the RV from where I’d been watching Juan. I didn’t see anything at first, my position too low, so I lifted my body slightly higher.

  And then I dropped down to the floor as fast as I could.

  Someone was walking next to the RV, keeping their body nearly pressed against the vehicle’s side to avoid detection. He or she was moving slowly. All I’d seen was a glimpse of sandy blonde hair. The sound that had originally alerted me to our company hadn’t come again. I thought back, trying to picture in my mind what it could have been.

  It only took me a few precious seconds. The sound of a gun being cocked, but quietly, filtered through the RV walls.

  The monsters don’t carry guns.

  The monsters don’t worry about being quiet.

  My heart started racing. Not in the good way. Not in the way it did when I look at Juan a little longer than necessary. It hit stallion stride, pumping inside my chest and looking for a finish line.

  “Marty, don’t move.” My voice was a harsh whisper. I was crouched down below the window.

  “Sherry, what’s wro—”

  I interrupted him, “Just don’t move.”

  I began to crawl across the rough, dark carpeting and towards the bedroom door. I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door after using the restroom. I couldn’t freaking remember. I’d been more focused on coming back out and giving Juan the big fat middle finger. I was an idiot. A damn idiot.

  I was almost to the door when I heard the sound of a different door opening. Marty whimpered when he felt the RV move slightly as someone stepped up into the vehicle. Frank growled. I turned to look at them, holding my hand up, palm side down, to motion to Marty to stay where he was and to calm down. Frank was shifting his body, trying to pull himself up. “Frank, no,” I hissed. He looked at me, his large brown eyes full of too much awareness to ever be called the gaze of an animal. But he stayed where he was next to the boy.

  The footsteps were coming nearer. Another set joined them, the RV shifting slightly again.

  “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey,” a masculine voice sing-songed lowly. The cutesy words were a counterpoint to the obvious menace laced through each word.

  “Maybe he’s alone,” a second voice, thick with a deep South Texas accent, chimed in.

  “No. He’s got someone with him. This is too big a rig for a single guy.” The first speaker is close now. He couldn’t be more than a foot from the master door. “Come out to play-yay.”

  A quake ran through my body, from the soles of my feet to the tip of my head. I was kneeling in front of the door, sweat making my forehead slick and my brown hair beginning to stick in clumps to my face. I hated that feeling almost as much as I hated when a stray hair strand snaked over my arm and made me jump for fear a spider had found me.

  “Lot of mileage on one tank, though. Come on, let’s get back inside. I don’t like being out here.”

  “You need to stop being such a damn pussy.”

  “I’m not a pussy, Lucas,” the one with the Texas drawl spat out.

  I scooted back quickly when the doorknob to the master began to move. I had locked it. I’d locked it. I’d locked it. I wasn’t so damn stupid that I’d just rushed out from the bathroom to let my bitch flag fly at Juan.

  “Locked,” the one named Lucas said. “So, what do we have behind door number two? Let’s find out, shall we.”

  I moved to a kneeling position versus all fours. I was just in time.

  The door kicked open, violently and fast. It slammed against my body, making me careen to the side to knock into the built-in dresser. My head hit last, sending me into ‘star’ land, just this side of black out city.

  “Jackpot,” the Texas drawl breathed out. “I like ‘em a little thick.”

  I shook my head, trying to pull myself out of the haze. I kicked out instinctively when I felt a hand touch my thigh but I didn’t connect with anything. I was still wearing the too-tight skirt. It was knee length, but it now had a sizeable rip that ran about four inches up my leg. He’d touched me there, where his fingers could graze bare skin.

  “Leave her alone!” Marty’s voice rang out, but then I heard the sound of a slap and the boy gasped.

  I shook my head again, harder this time, the fog cleared, my vision along with it. A man with short-cropped ginger hair was moving to touch me again, starting at my ankle above the broken kitten heel shoe. I kicked again, this time paying attention where I directed the force. My foot caught him in the inner thigh. He grunted, but recovered faster than I could have imagined. He balled his hand into a fist and punched me in the calf.

  It was my turn to gasp, my expression crumpling in pain. “Bitch,” Texas Drawl leaned forward, his mouth close enough to my face that I could smell the acrid tinge of his breath. All cheap beer and cheaper cigarettes. His eyes were the dullest brown I’d ever seen. Absolutely lifeless.

  “Leave her alone, Reece.” Lucas was dragging Marty off the bed, Frank was struggling to his feet, growling and bearing his teeth. “We got to see how Bobby wants to handle this first. I’ll kill you, dog,” he added, staring right at Frank. The way the big man—towering at least six foot two and well over two hundred pounds—said it made me taste my pulse in my mouth. There was no emotion in it. Nothing overly menacing. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d shoot the dog without a second thought.

  And I worried that the lack of respect for life didn’t just apply to the furry.

  Could he say that to a human being? Could he threaten to shoot me or Marty with so little emotion in his voice?

  Yes. I could tell that just by looking at him.

  Marty was being absolutely quiet now. His cheek was bright scarlet, his eyes still watering from being struck. Frank was holding his ground, but no longer growling.

  “Animals just need a firm hand, Reece, same as women.” Lucas was holding Marty’s upper arm now, jerking it at an angle. He began to pull Marty with him towards the door.

  That seemed to be a sign for Reece to get me moving. As if to make a point, he grabbed my ass, digging his fingers hard into my flesh. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of wincing, but I couldn’t help myself. “You like a firm hand, don’t you, bitch?”

  He didn’t wait for me to respond, instead pulling me to my feet. My head swam with the upright rush and I swayed a little trying to stay standing. Reece took that as an opportunity to pull me against him, wrap his arm around my waist and move his hand upward to cup the bottom of my breast. I jolted my hip into him as hard as I could. But, God help me, he seemed to like it. He liked it enough to shift his body so he could press himself against me.

  I closed my eyes when he leaned in to whisper, his mouth so close to my ear that I could feel his lips brush against my skin lightly. “It’s been too long for me, baby. I can’t promise I’ll last long, but I can promise you’ll like it
.”

  “Reece, start thinking with your brain and not your dick.” Lucas was standing in the doorway to the master bedroom, Marty pinned against his body and the doorframe.

  It seemed that both men had forgotten about Frank on the bed. I hadn’t. I risked a look, only to find that the dog was no longer on the bed.

  Out of what seemed like nowhere, the black and red-brown of Frank’s muscular, albeit weakened, body launched into the air towards Lucas and Marty. The boy instinctively dropped to the ground, the man still holding his arm in a vice-like grip. Frank landed on the man, his front paws going over his shoulders and his great weight enough to knock the giant of a man to the floor.

  Marty was freed in the process and he scrambled towards me. That was a mistake. Reece used the hand that wasn’t holding me to strike out at the boy, catching him flat in the chest with his palm. He must have hit him hard, because Marty crumbled. He crumbled and he started breathing like a fish out of water. Little hiccup sucks of air that didn’t seem to satisfy his lungs.

  “Marty!” I yelled, twisting and turning in Reece’s grip to try and get to the boy I’d sworn to protect. “You fucking monster! You could break a kid’s ribs that way!”

  “His own fault,” Reece drawled, his voice not quite as emotionless as Lucas’s had been when threatening Frank.

  “Reece!” Lucas’s voice shouted, “get the fuck in here! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” The scream the large man let loose was rage-filled.

  Reece dropped his hold on me, running to his friend’s aid. I stumbled to Marty’s side. His breathing was still labored. “Does it hurt? Marty, where does it hurt?” The words tripped out of my mouth like clumsy children on a balance beam. He didn’t answer me immediately, his little body shaking and trying to operate normally. “Please, Marty. Does anything hurt?”

  “I’m…” he breathed out, taking a deep draw of air that interrupted the short intakes, “okay.”

  He was going to bruise. He was scared. But I didn’t think anything was broken. That would have hurt. It would have been obvious.