by C. M. Wright
He focuses on me and says, “Then say “No!” How damned hard is it? Oh, that's right. I forgot that saying no is impossible for you.”
I gasp when I realize where he's going with this, right back to the subject of Jake, and take a couple steps away from him, my arm dropping to my side.
“You asshole.”
And that's as far as I get before the rage and hurt almost doubles me over. I force myself to turn and walk away, or limp away as the case may be. I make my feet keep moving until I have a truck between me and Will. I fight back the tears, fight back the urge to hurt him like he hurt me, and fight back the need to have the last word.
Screw it. I know he's hurt by the fact Jake had sex with me, forced or not. I get it, I really do. And I know no matter what he says, he's not okay not knowing if this baby is his or not, and he'll never forget that I had almost willingly cheated on him. Sure, I thought he was dead, but it wasn't even two weeks after last seeing Will alive when I came this close to doing “it” in the truck with Jake. And the fact we'd flirted and played with fire even while Will was right there probably makes it hard for him to believe I had actually been raped.
I'm sure I'd have a hard time believing it too if I were him.
So he needs time. And I just have to be patient. What else can I do?
The sound of rocks scattering alerts me to the arrival of someone, and of course it would have to be the last person I want to talk to at this moment. Understanding or not, the fucker hurt me.
I turn my back to him so he can't see the tears in my eyes that I am not allowing to fall. I consider walking away again but - Damn it! - I'm tired and my ankle hurts. Pain pills can only do so much.
He doesn't touch me, but he's very close to my back. I can feel his breath when he releases it on the back of my neck. I hear him clear his throat and my body stiffens as I prepare myself for more pain.
“Canada, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I–”
I spin around and put my hand on his chest.
“No. Maybe you should have. I'd rather know how you really feel. I don't want any fake feelings between us. I do understand, Will, and I'm going to give you the time you need to deal with it. If you decide you just can't, then I'll walk away from this marriage. I've hurt you enough and that's something I have to live with.”
“I don't ever want you to walk away from our marriage, Canada. Not ever. But I do think I need some time to get my head straight and my emotions sorted out.”
“Then you got it. Take all the time you need. I'll be here.”
Somehow, I find the energy to leave him, though on very shaky legs. As I come around the truck, I stop abruptly when I see the entire group staring at me. I roll my eyes and head off in another direction, away from everyone.
I am definitely not in the mood to talk. I'm so upset, I'm almost ready to tell them let's go slaughter those zombies; but fortunately, I'm not that upset. Almost, but not quite there.
I get to the first truck and find it empty except for one Krew member. I jump inside the front and turn to look at the man.
He's got long dark blond hair that reaches halfway down his back. I also notice as we stare at each other that he has one blue eye and one green eye. He's wearing the typical bad guy uniform of tight blue jeans, a black wife-beater, and a black leather jacket with a large letter K sewn on the back in blood red with a gold outline.
“What's your name?” I ask him, preparing to be told to go to hell.
Surprisingly, he answers me in a gentle tone. “Cooper. Francis Cooper, but everyone calls me Coop.”
“Gotcha. How old are you, Coop?”
“Twenty-two,” he answers quietly.
My eyes widen at his answer.
Still just a damn kid.
“Why the hell did you get mixed up in the Krew bullshit, Coop?” I ask him.
“I didn't have a choice. They have my sister and mother,” he explains and I watch in amazement when a tear rolls down his face and the pain of being who he is shows quite clearly.
I stare at him for a minute, before opening the door and telling him I'll be right back. Then I limp over to the teens and stop in front of Sandro.
“What do you know about the guy sitting in the truck I was just in?” I ask him.
Sandro squints at the truck then turns back to me. “Coop?”
I nod and he continues, “Not much. My uncle kept most of us separated unless we were on missions and even then he would make sure his more loyal members were with us. You know, the ones who were Krew before the dead came back to life?”
“So, Coop could be a forced member like you all were?”
“I don't know. He was either already there, or we weren't involved in his capture. I just assumed that everyone, who was there before we started capturing folks, was there because they wanted to be. I'm not sure why I thought that. Maybe because I was led to believe taking captives was something new that my uncle wanted me in charge of. I suppose sometimes I forgot my uncle wasn't an honest man. Or a sane one.” Sandro shuffled the gravel under his shoes as he looked down in shame, once again.
“Sandro, I'm getting pretty sick of you thinking you have to carry your uncle's shame. Enough already,” I soften the blow of my words with a hand to his shoulder.
He looks up at me and gives me a slight nod.
“I'm trying,” he insists quietly.
I nod back, then tell him what Coop had told me. Sandro becomes visibly upset and storms off to talk to Coop himself. I let him go and tell the other teens that I'll talk to them later. Then I go to each vehicle that holds one of the Krew members. The story is the same with all but three of the remaining men. Of those three, the first response when I began to question them were pretty much the same. I found out I'm a bitch, a whore, a piece of shit, and on and on. Those men also had a much different look to them than the ones who claim to be forced members.
Their eyes were harder, meaner. The others had desperation, fear, and hopelessness in their eyes. I walk away from the entire group and think about all of this, while keeping my eyes out for any wandering undead, of course.
After several minutes, I catch movement back in the direction of the town we just fled. I turn and start my slow pathetic limp back, yelling for everyone that it's time to get going. I see people scatter and disappear inside trucks, and I see Will waiting for me at our truck. I entertain a brief thought of being a bitch and walking right past him to another truck, but then I remind myself I'm trying to be understanding and patient, and that I pretty much deserve the hurt I feel. To a degree.
Christ, being patient and understanding is hard! Being hurt can make you act so stupid. Or, at least, it can make me act stupid.
So instead, I let him help me inside and wait as he gets in behind the wheel and readies the truck to follow the others. Our boys are with us, and so is our dog, Angel. Will asks me what I'd been talking to the Krew members about and I tell him what I had learned.
“Do you believe them?” he asks me.
“You know, I think I do. I'll let you talk to them and see what you think, though,” I tell him.
He nods and we keep silent after that, at least toward each other. We both have our own conversations with the boys. When we're about five miles back to the little village we have established on Rose's property, I ask him to have everyone pull over. He speeds up to pass them and when he gets in front, pulls to the side of the road. The other trucks follow and we get out. I meet with my group and the teens and explain to everyone that I don't want the Krew members seeing how to get to our place, just in case.
No one disagrees with me, and we set to blindfolding them all, even the teens request we blindfold them until we know for sure that we can trust them or not. My good feelings toward them increases at that, and it also makes it easier on me because I was about to tell them they were going to be blindfolded as well. Now, I don't have to.
When we arrive at Rose's Refuge, our vehicles are swarmed by the loved ones we had left b
ehind. After several minutes of hugs, tears and loud voices, the Krew members are led away along with the teens for now, and we explain what happened. Dustin shows disappointment that we weren't able to get the medical stuff he wanted, but he recovers when we tell him we're not giving up. We know how important that shit is, so we can't just give up.
We explain the death of Wyatt and a few people comment on how that's too bad, but most just look down at the ground and remain silent.
That, people. That right there determines how well-liked you are. Not that you'd know or care, since you'd be dead, but think about how you want people to react at the news of your passing. If the reaction you picture isn't good, fix yourself! No one else can do that for you.
Off the soapbox now.
Finally, we explain about the Krew and everything going on with that situation. Very few, who aren't my family or close friends, think we should just stay out of it, but most agree we have to help the innocent. Those same few also become quite pissed when we talk of bringing the rescued individuals here. I have to walk away at this point, mostly because I'm forced to when I open my mouth and tell them they could get the fuck out themselves and that we didn't have to take their sorry asses in either. My mom is the one who tells me to get lost for a few minutes.
I stick my tongue out at her – Mentally, mind you. I'm not dying today. – and walk inside the house. I find food on the stove in the kitchen and begin to make me a plate of spaghetti.
Holy– This shit's good!
I finish the plate and then decide I might as well take a shower, so I gather a clean change of clothes and wash all the grime off of me. When I fling open the curtain of the shower, I'm startled to find Will standing there and I scream at the top of my lungs. He frantically tries to calm me down before everyone comes bursting in, but he's too late.
Thank God I have a towel on.
He tells them everything's okay and that he just scared me. They leave, but not until they clearly let me know they are pissed at me, as usual.
I smack Will on the chest and tell him to stop doing that shit, but he just grins at me and makes no promises.
He doesn't say anything, but just watches me as I get dressed, brush my hair and pull it into a long ponytail. I can see his reflection in the mirror and I begin to get nervous.
“What!?” I finally snarl at him.
“Nothing. Just watching you,” he tells me, once again grinning at me.
I spin away from the mirror and toss over my shoulder, “You need help.”
Then I open the door and leave him behind.
He follows shortly after and catches up to me at the end of the hallway.
“Living room,” he says in my ear.
I glare back at him, but turn and enter the living room. I see everyone who was with us on the last mission, and all the rest of my family, with a plate of spaghetti resting on their laps and their forks shoveling the food in. Ma, my grandma, offers to make me a plate but I tell her I'd already eaten some spaghetti and tell her to relax, so she settles back into her chair.
I go over and sink to the floor next to her feet and she begins to play with my hair. I close my eyes and sigh.
I sure love my Ma. She makes me calm without doing much of anything at all.
Once everyone inhales enough of the pasta in their bellies that they can slow down and breath, we begin to discuss plans on how to rescue all those people.
The teens had been brought back from wherever they were being held when we first got here. They look as if they'd all gotten a shower, some clean clothes, and were now being fed.
At my moms urging, Sandro begins to explain their situation. He ends by telling us his uncle had kept them all pretty ignorant about how many people they had captured and forced to become Krew members, but now that he had talked to Cooper, he realizes there may be even more men who are members against their will than he'd thought. He tells the others who hadn't been with us that he had mistakenly thought the capturing had started with him. It hadn't.
“I know just since I was involved, that we brought in at least a hundred captives. A few men, but mostly women and kids. After we got them back to the Krew base, I never saw the men again for several months, and I can only assume they were being brainwashed or tortured into doing my uncle's bidding. I do know the women and some of the weaker men were raped, and I have no doubts that they did the same to some of the younger girls, maybe even the boys. The Krew had no morals long before the zombies came, so I'm sure it just got worse after.”
I watch as the others begin to grow more uncomfortable as he speaks, and I know it won't be long before at least one of them snap. And I'm right.
“How could you! How could you take those people against their will, knowing what was going to happen to them? You're just as sick as those nasty Krew people. You are one of those nasty Krew people!” my sister-in-law, Lindy, screams at Sandro.
I watch Sandro to see what he does, and as I knew he would, he says nothing and drops his head. His guilt is much too deep to allow him to defend himself.
That's where I come in.
“Lindy – all of you – think about this. If Sandro had fought against them, what do you think would have happened? They would have killed him and still have taken all those people. Sandro played along until he could do something about it. He killed his uncle, none of us did that. He's desperate to save those people and will do it whether we help or not. The only hope those people have is Sandro, even if they don't know it.”
“Did you do any raping of your own?” my other sister-in-law, Coco, asks him with a bite in her voice.
“No. I would never force sex on anyone. Not ever!” Sandro is not about to be accused of that, and is quite able to defend himself on that particular topic.
“Enough. I know how this sounds and looks.” Libby stands and moves to the center of the room after shoving her almost empty plate into Sandro's hand. “But I have known Sandro for many years. I've loved him for almost that same amount of years, and not once have I ever been scared of him. Not once has he ever hurt anyone. He would sacrifice himself before ever doing so. He really had no choice in capturing those people, not if he were going to save them as soon as he could. And by god, that's exactly what he's going to do.”
She eyes each of us, a few longer than others. Then she takes a deep breath to try and calm herself before speaking again.
“I know some of you may not understand it, and some of you may continue to blame Sandro. I can't change how you feel, but I won't sit by and listen to you shame Sandro even more. And he did try to fight them, to stop them. Sandro, raise your shirt.”
Sandro doesn't move and keeps his head down. Libby huffs out her frustration then yanks his shirt up herself. The gasps and cries echo throughout the room. I avoid looking again, once was enough.
Libby, much more gently this time, lowers his shirt and looks around the room, tears in her eyes.
“He's got enough guilt and pain to live with without anyone else making it worse, especially from people who weren't in any of our shoes. Yes, our shoes. We all were there and capturing people. Blame all of us if you must, if you're too blind to see where the world has gone and too stupid too understand that people sometimes have to do whatever they have to just to survive.”
I stand at this point and walk up to the girl brave enough to stand up for her friend. I admire and respect her, but...
“No one here is stupid, Libby. They just don't know what you've all gone through and need time to get to know each of you. They need to see for themselves that you aren't really like the Krew. That's not stupid, that's smart. Like you said, this world has gone to hell and trust is a hard thing to come by. We've been fooled before, so all four of you need to know that we just can't trust people blindly, and it may take time for all of us to get to that point. Some may never get there.”
All the teens nod, and Libby looks slightly ashamed at having insulted the very people who could help them. She opens her mouth, an apolog
y clearly on her tongue, but I stop her with a gentle hand to her arm.
“No, do not apologize. You were honest in your words and feelings. Holding back and sugar-coating shit won't help the whole trust issue. Being honest is the best thing for everyone right now.” I give a pointed look to Will, and then turn my attention back to Libby. “It's fine.”
She gives me a weak smile and sits back down next to Sandro, who places an arm around her. Deciding everyone could use some time to cool off and think things over, I begin to gather empty plates off the floor where they had been placed, and Jade rises to help me. In the kitchen, as I begin to wash the dishes, Jade stands silently next to me to rinse and dry them. A few others enter and begin to clean up the kitchen as well, but none of them speak either, and I know their thoughts are on either the rescue, like mine are, or are trying to come to terms with what they've learned about the teens.
Once the kitchen is clean again and the left-overs, what little there is, is put away, we all go back to the living room. The ones left waiting on us stop talking and focus on me. I just shake my head and give my full attention to Will.
Will quickly realizes I've wordlessly put him in charge and he stands, positioning himself where everyone can see and hear him.
“We will all sleep tonight, rest up well, and tomorrow we will go to Kansas City. The choice to go or stay is yours to make, but I want everyone who is going to sign up on a list Mom will have.”
He looks at Mom and she nods, then picks up a nearby notebook and pen and begins writing.
“The first day or two, we will do nothing but check out the building, watch what's going on, and get the layout and whatever other useful information Sandro and his group can give us. Then we will plan the rescue attempt. I'll need your help to spread the word to the others here. We need everyone who is willing and able to go, but again, no one is being forced. We will leave in the morning around six, so make sure you get plenty of sleep.”
People begin to line up in front of Mom, adding their names. I stand, stretch, and leave the house alone. I walk past several people I know, several I've only seen but not actually met yet, and a few I have never seen before. Doesn't mean they weren't here when I left yesterday, just means I didn't get to stick around long enough to meet or see them.