Carriers

by Krissy Reynolds

  Taking advantage of this Shay rushed over to her best friend. Marena was leaning against a wooden column, chest rising and falling rapidly. The remaining half of the glass was in her hand, edges jagged and covered in blood. Her hazel eyes were downcast, staring at the body of the agent at her feet. He was bleeding heavily from several small puncture wounds in his head. She could see the rise and fall of his sides but couldn't determine the state of his consciousness.

  "Is he dead?" Marena asked limply, voice quiet. The front of her white tank-top was splattered with blood, presumably not her own. Her hand was, however, oozing crimson from a few small puncture wounds.

  "I don't think so. I think I can see him breathing," she replied, sticking her foot out to nudge the agent. As she did so a warm hand clasped around her ankle, pulling down hard and the next thing she knew her other foot was coming out from under her as well. She released a measly squeak of surprise as she tried to grab onto something to interrupt her fall, yet her hands found nothing.

  Her body hit the floor hard. Her right side took most of the impact, little shards of glass stabbing into her skin almost immediately. She screamed out as a flash of agony overtook her senses, erasing all other feelings.

  Just as the initial pain was starting to ebb away she felt the hand on her ankle again. Moving gingerly in an effort to not embed any more glass in her skin she turned around to find the agent clasping her ankle, fingernails beginning to prick her skin. They locked eyes and she struggled to ignore the rivulets of blood running down his face, giving him a horror movie-esque appearance.

  She reared her leg back and then brought it slamming against the agent's face, the noise of his nose breaking making her cringe. He wailed in pain as he released her, hands flying to his nose. His cries of pain quickly translated to the dry, hacking cough she'd heard all too many times before.

  Taking advantage of his current state she scrambled to stand, wincing when more glass dug into her palms. Marena was already there, taking hold of her arms and helping to pull her the rest of the way up.

  "Quick, while he's still coughing," Marena instructed. She nodded and looked down at the agent one final time, still writhing and coughing.

  Before she had time to react a gunshot echoed through the restaurant. The shot itself was explosive- the gun had been fired nearby. She tensed, expecting a bullet to tear into her flesh at any moment or watch Marena suffer a similar fate. When nothing happened to either of them she slowly turned, terrified of what she might find.

  Standing spaces behind her was the agent Marena had pushed into the table, a steak knife in his hand. His eyes were round as eggs and staring to glaze over, a trickle of blood beginning to escape from the corner of his mouth. He stood numbly for a few seconds before collapsing to the floor with a thud, knife bouncing and stopping at her feet.

  A few feet away stood Carson; gun still pointed at the place the agent had been standing. Unlike the last time she'd seen him all emotions were gone, his visage blank. He'd saved her.

  She rushed over to him and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. She felt his arms go slack before he wrapped them around her lower back. Despite the fact he embraced her his body was rigid, not relaxed and comfortable like usual.

  "Shay, you're bleeding." He murmured. She shrugged.

  "I know, it's nothing serious," she replied, lips spaces away from his neck.

  "No, look down." He told her sternly. She pulled away from him, slowly looking down. Her right arm and leg were peppered with little wounds but they weren't much. At first she thought Carson might just be overreacting, but it was then she started feeling something sticky start to ooze onto her skin. She looked down to see her white tank-top stained red- red from her own blood.

  Examining the wound, Shay discovered a shard of glass embedded shallowly in her side, yet deep enough to cause a fair amount of bleeding. She allowed her eyes to travel down her side, over her barley-there hips, down her thigh, following the trail of blood. It stained her soft orange shorts, running down her leg until it began to soak into her socks. Her adrenaline was weaning, allowing her pain sensors to once again function- and she felt every little wound.

  "Here," Carson said softly, holding out his hand which was filled with napkins. Quickly, she snatched them away, figuring out a way to apply pressure to the wound without having to remove the glass. That was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, despite being aware it was crucial she did. Gingerly she placed her sweaty hand around the glass, grimacing as she lightly pulled. Whimpering, she shied away, not able to bring herself to do it.

  "Let me, I know what I'm doing," Carson whispered gently, placing his hand around the glass. A nervous feeling coursed through her as he began to slowly pull on the shard. Of course he'd know what he was doing, his dad was a doctor. When she came back out of her thoughts the glass was gone, the edge of it glistening with her blood. She took the napkins in her hand and began applying pressure, ignoring the scarlet stain that quickly bloomed on them.

  "That didn't even hurt that much," she said softly, biting her lip to try to keep the other agonizing feelings at bay. She had truthfully only felt a sharp sting as it was removed. The wound was now throbbing dully alongside the rapid rhythm of her heart.

  "My dad taught me when my little brother got glass in his foot," Carson replied, grinning a little. The grin quickly faded, replaced by a look of sadness. She knew exactly what he was feeling- the depressing mix of homesickness, grief, and loss all combined into one overwhelming wave. It came at the most unpredictable of times, just by seeing or remembering something from home triggered the feelings. Every time it was something different, a new memory, a new thought, only it was always the same emotions.

  She swallowed hard. She wasn't very good with comforting words. It was best she say nothing than anything at all. Instead she took hold of his hand with her free one, entwining their fingers. He knew she was there for him, and in truth, that was enough.

  Chapter 27

  They buried Jaycee at sunset. The sky was a mix of reds and oranges, the first few stars sprinkled across the canvas of the sky. Wisps of puffy clouds tainted the horizon, hinting at a distant storm. They were miles from any sort of town, parked on the shoulder of a two-lane road, a campground about twenty miles down. The hills of the Ozarks rolled on all sides, covered in thick summer lushness. The Niangua River snaked between the hills beneath the Carriers, forming a valley, exposing weathered and eroded cliff faces. The view took Shay's breath away as she stared out over the horizon, watching the orange sun sink beneath the hilltops.

  Carson dug up another shovel-full of dirt, depositing it onto the ever-growing pile behind her, the very top at level with her knees. The three guys were doing most of the work, digging Jaycee's grave into the soil, Laylia occasionally taking a shovel and helping. She continued to insist on digging Jaycee's final resting place, persisting that it was the best she could do to repay her debts. Nobody argued.

  A light breeze toyed with her blonde hair as she absently gazed across the sky, mind in other places. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. There had been no time to change clothes after they fled, just speeding away before more agents or cops arrived. The idea a dead body was riding with them was starting to disturb everyone. It was time to bury a fallen friend.

  "Is that deep enough?" Carson panted, resting his chest against the wooden end of his shovel, sweaty palms slowly sliding down the grip. The other guys did the same, taking a moment to look down into the earth. The grave was finished- not exactly six feet yet not much shallower. They were down into the clay now, wiry ends of tree roots poking out from the walls of the grave. Laylia was crouched inside, smoothing out the soil with her hands as if Jaycee was going to care how bumpy the bottom of her grave was.

  "Looks like it to me." Marena replied blankly.

  She turned around to graze her eyes over the scene- Laylia now sitting at the bottom of the grave, pudgy hands caked in wet soil, the thr
ee guys sticky with sweat, Kyleigh avoiding everyone, Katrina picking her fingernails to distract herself, and the zipped-up sleeping bag that encased Jaycee's body on the edge of the hole that would be her final resting spot.

  Shock, loss, and a dismal sadness hung in the air like the humidity, almost as smothering as the heat itself. Even if the day was giving way to night, the temperature had continued to hold, causing everyone to sweat profoundly. She'd occasionally flap the front of her top to try to keep the sweating at bay. It wasn't horribly successful.

  "Marena, help me," Axel insisted as he took hold of two of the corners of the sleeping bag. Marena walked over, shuffling her feet as she did. She bent over and picked up the other two ends. Axel nodded at her and the two slid over to the hole in the earth, hovering the sleeping bag above it. Laylia stood up, stretching her arms upwards to support the body. Marena counted to three and they slowly lowered her into the earth. Her body was settled against the ground with a soft thud, Laylia smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric after everyone let go.

  "Someone help me out?" she asked once she was finished, voice scarcely a whisper. Marena bit her lip, clearly trying to bite back a bitter remark. She eventually extended an arm to her, and, with assistance, Laylia was able to scramble out of the hole. She brushed her black leggings of dirt before straightening herself out, keeping her eyes on the ground.

  "Should we speak before or after we put the dirt back?" Katrina asked, looking to Shay for an answer, who shrugged in a clueless manner as a response. Seven heads turned to stare at her, each withholding a questioning look in their eyes. She sighed. Am I the only one that makes decisions around here?

  "Before," she answered, totally winging it. "Everyone will say something and throw a handful or two in. When we're done someone can give a speech or something. Probably Laylia."

  "I don't think I'd like to talk," Laylia replied emotionlessly. "At least then. She knows what I would say." she said, faltering towards the end.

  "Alright then. Katrina, you start, you're closest."

  Katrina nodded meekly, bending over to gather a fistful of dirt into her hand. She slowly inched back over to the freshly-dug grave, staring down into it. She bit her lip as if trying to hide the fact she had nothing to say. It wasn't that hard to guess. Jaycee was seldom spoken to. Finding words to say over her open grave was going to be a struggle.

  She stood there for about two minutes, occasionally parting her lips to speak only to close them a few moments later, scarcely shaking her head. She was scrambling for words to say as she palmed the dirt in her hand.

  "Jaycee, you had good taste in music," Katrina finally mumbled. Beside his girlfriend Owen nodded. He and Katrina both had a favoring for older rock music. She'd never paid much attention to it, but it seemed like Jaycee had as well.

  Owen bent down next, taking his handful of dirt in turn. His big blue eyes gazed down into the earth while his shaggy hair flapped in the wind. He sighed loudly, his face mimicking his girlfriend's somber expression.

  It was a difficult feeling to describe- it wasn't exactly grief, due to the fact none of them were close or even friends with the fallen girl, but a sense of loss and reality- a realization that they weren't immortal. It was also the fact that the other side now had a victory under their belt- they killed a Carrier. It was those rushing realizations that created a feeling of somber numbness, not grief for the loss of the person, but more of a shell-shocked numbness induced by a hint of sadness. Difficult to describe yet something mutual, shared by all.

  "Say hi to Kurt Cobain for me," Owen said, and then dropped his handful of dirt down into Jaycee's grave. Despite the somber air around them the teens couldn't help but smile at the Nirvana reference, even if the band was way before their birthdate.

  Kyleigh went next. She skittishly held the dirt in her small hand, her face wrinkled as if it was mud she was holding in her hand, not dirt. She was probably scared the dirt would inch its way under her nails. Like Katrina, she was having a struggle finding something to say, her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

  "Just pass," Shay told her after three minutes of strained silence. The sunk was starting to sink even lower now, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be outside in the wilderness at night. Kyleigh nodded and released her handful, letting it run through her fingers in a dry waterfall.

  "Rest in peace," Kyleigh barley whispered. She had to strain her ears to hear it, but it was there, just a ghost on Kyleigh's lips. She couldn't be sure if anyone else heard it. She was the only one standing close to her.

  "Shay, you don't have to go," Carson said suddenly, earning questioning stares from everyone else.

  "Why?" Kyleigh snapped. "I had to." She crossed her arms, eyebrows raised in Carson's direction.

  "Don't you think our leader should have the final speech? Like in the movies after they bury someone, it's always the leader who has the last words," he said, belting out the best excuse that he could under pressure.

  "Wait… I'm supposed to be leader here?" She asked, making a confused face, trying to charade that she wasn't aware of that fact way before now.

  "Yeah," everyone minus Laylia said in unison. "We figured you knew that," Carson winked, grinning despite the somber aura.

  "Oh. Well, then it's your turn Marena." She replied, playfully elbowing her best friend.

  Marena nodded and bent over to scoop up a handful of dirt. She glanced down into Jaycee's grave. She exhaled slowly, using her free hand to tuck her bright blonde hair behind her ear.

  "You were brave, doing what you did, even for someone who deserves to be the one we're burying right now," Marena began, completely monotone. This earned a surprised gasp from Laylia but chuckles everyone else tried to hide. Shay cupped her hand over her mouth to hide her grin. This is why she's my best friend. She says exactly what I'm thinking. Laylia didn't say anything, but her glare directed at Marena was sharp as knives.

  Axel did the same as Kyleigh, just dropping his handful of dirt in without speaking. He hadn't really been there for much of the plight of the Carriers- it was reasonable for him to fall mute. Carson went next, clearly biting back another fire at Laylia. Nobody voiced it, but they all blamed Laylia for her death.

  "It takes a true friend to do what you did. I would hope someone would do that for me. I respect that." he said, the usual humor absent from his voice. She could tell what he was saying he really did mean, even if it wasn't much. After Carson released his handful of dirt the guys marched over to the mound of dirt, shovels in hand, and began to refill her grave.

  The sun was gone by the time they finished. The moon was waning in the sky, the inky darkness of night painting the sky. Billions of stars were visible now, outlining the night in all different shapes, sizes, and glows. The light from the rising moon was enough for them to finish, smoothing the disturbed dirt out. On a decent sized rock JAYCEE FRANK was written in Shay's bold, squished handwriting across the surface in large black letters. Beneath her name, in slightly smaller letters was 5/6/00 - 6/5/15, information of her birthday courtesy of Laylia. Lastly, beneath that was ONE OF THE FIRST EIGHT CARRIERS. Everyone agreed it was something that belonged on her headstone, as if in twenty years being one of the first Carriers, the start of the Blue Plague, would be something worth putting on a headstone.

  All eight of them stood in a circle around the fresh grave, gazing down at the disturbed earth. The moon bathed everything in a silver glow. The heat was finally waning, the breeze starting to pick up as the distant storm grew closer. Shay was breathing in deeply as she prepared to give her speech. She hadn't thought of any words to say whatsoever- she'd decided it would be better to just wing it.

  "Well, I guess it's my turn to speak," she began, clearing her throat. Everyone turned to her at the head of the circle, beckoning her to continue.

  "Today we lost one of our own. It was a miracle we survived all those gunfights without a loss before now. We were getting a little big-headed, and I'm ashamed it took you dying for us to reali
ze we are still just as vulnerable as we always were. We were just lucky. Honestly, you shouldn't have died. You did what deserves a better burial than what we can offer, saving a friend who was in a moment of defiance." She paused to wait for Laylia's response. She was looking down, her face contorted in silent rage.

  "That takes a special kind of courage to save someone doing wrong just in the name of friendship. I understand, she was the only one you felt a connection with out of all of us, and I regret that now. We were friends once, I should have tried harder. I was too focused on keeping myself and my friends alive. You'll always be remembered for what you did. As long as I survive, as long as Laylia survives, hell, as long as we all survive, you'll still be here too, in a way. You were one of the first eight Carriers. You preserved through a hell of a lot of shit, and just because you didn't win the battle doesn't mean you were weak. You just paid the ultimate price for a friend." She paused for a few moments, letting the effect of her words sink in.

  "May you rest in peace, Jaycee." She finished, swallowing hard. The others copied her, uttering the same words.

  With that everyone paid their final respects, most just giving a curt nod to the grave before dispersing inside the truck, ready to sleep away the traumas of the day.

  Chapter 28

  Shay couldn't sleep. She had lost count of how long it had been since she settled into the conjoined seats in the front of the truck. The windows were cranked down, keeping her cool as the night breeze blew in through them. The temperature had since dropped to a more comfortable eighty degrees, making the temperature just below bearable.