We Won't Go Quietly: A Family's Struggle to Survive in a World Devolved (Book Three of the What's Left of My World Series)

by C. A. Rudolph

  Grace and Christian were sitting at the table, and Norman and Michelle stood nearby, both with folded arms. Everyone’s eyes were transfixed on Lauren. No one said anything.

  Lauren leaned her shoulder against the wall and raised a brow. “Okay. This scene reminds me of an episode of Intervention I saw a couple of years ago. Only, I’m not addicted to heroin, and I don’t have twin drug-dependent infants that my sister and mother are left to support while I’m busy being a whore, scamming to get my next fix.” She paused to gauge expressions. “That being said, I take it this is about me?”

  Christian turned away and Grace’s look of concern moved from her sister and made its way to him.

  “No. It’s about me,” said Christian.

  “What are you talking about?” Lauren asked him from behind and, not getting a reply, looked to her sister. “Grace?”

  Grace looked away. She clasped her hands before her, slumped in the chair, and nervously bit her lip.

  Lauren turned to John. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  John shrugged. “Not a clue in hell.”

  Christian opened up a moment later. “I wanted to wait until all of you were here,” he said. “I have something I need to say; everyone needs to hear it. Something very difficult. I’ve already talked with Grace about it, and it went over better than I expected. So now I think it’s time to come clean with everyone.”

  Lauren glided into the living room and John took a seat across from Christian at the table. Grace reached for Christian’s hand. Something was definitely up.

  “I think you have everyone’s attention,” said Norman. “Speak your piece, Christian.”

  Christian took in a deep breath. “Somewhere along the way, this whole thing got serious for me. You’ve welcomed me into your home and made me a part of your family here. You’ve all supported me and, while putting up with my shit, provided me with your trust. There’s a ton of love in this house…it’s a home, something I haven’t had in a very long time.”

  Christian paused, looking at each person in the room. “I gotta be honest—I don’t want to ever lose what I’ve gained with you. I want to stay and stake my claim here with this family. I need to respect you and be as open with you as you’ve been with me, and that means I need to come clean.” He paused, lowering his head. “I owe all of you an explanation.”

  “What explanation?” asked Michelle, whose eyes bounced between him and Grace. “Pertaining to what?”

  Christian continued, his voice hesitant. “All of you know I worked for the DHS, mostly in the camp. I’ve explained before that I was sometimes tasked, along with a team of others, to go outside the fence to apprehend violators of martial law. There are several thousand people in the camp now, all of them having been displaced from their homes. Many of them came willingly, but others didn’t. Some were forced into the camp against their will. They were charged with crimes and immediately incarcerated upon entry.”

  Norman leered. “So there’s a prison located in the camp?”

  “The whole camp is a prison,” Christian said. “Once inside, no one can leave of their own accord. They gave up that right the second they stepped through the gate, along with any other rights they had left. Not everyone inside the fence is officially designated as a detainee, though…there’s different levels of privileges. Many have some, while others have none. All the buildings on the site were reused and repurposed for one reason or another. The two former hotels on the property were converted into detention centers with solitary confinement cells.”

  Christian turned to see Lauren’s eyes bearing down on him. “When I first met Lauren, she told me the first place all of you went after your neighborhood got too precarious was in Woodstock, to her grandparents’ house. Her paternal grandparents, Sam and Faith Gallo.”

  Michelle nodded. “That’s right. We did.”

  Lauren set her jaw and hissed, “I never told you their first names.”

  Christian sulked. “Right. I know you haven’t. I knew who they were, Lauren. I knew their first names. I knew who they were before I met you.”

  Lauren widened her stance, taking a step to the side. Her face flushed with color. She already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “How?”

  Christian turned his head away, glancing around at the stares he was receiving. Grace’s eyes had begun to well up with tears.

  “Your grandparents are prisoners…in FEMA Camp Bravo,” Christian said, his voice incredibly subdued. “They were apprehended and charged with hoarding and illegal possession of firearms, and because they were found to be in direct violation of the terms of martial law, they were placed into solitary confinement to await sentencing.” He paused extensively. “And I know all this because I was a member of the team of agents who apprehended them and brought them there.”

  Michelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Norman took a step back and reached out for a chair back to steady himself.

  Lauren’s eyes went ablaze. “You…were there?”

  Christian responded only with a single nod.

  “You son of a bitch!” she exclaimed, and in one deft movement, grabbed hold of Christian’s M4 from its spot against the wall and dashed toward him, the buttstock moving to her shoulder and the suppressed muzzle of the weapon moving to within an inch of his cheekbone.

  Christian froze when he heard the sound of the selector switch move from the safe position he had left it in. His mouth fell open, and he slowly held his hands up, palms outward, closing his eyes.

  “Lauren, what the flip?” cried Norman while backing away, his tone booming and urgent.

  Michelle pleaded for her to put the gun down. John pushed his chair away from the table, his body language signaling that even he didn’t know what to do.

  Lauren could hear the others in the room shouting to her, but disregarded everyone and everything, Christian being her only focal point. “I should kill you right now,” she said, her anger having reached an intensity no one present had ever witnessed before. “You condemned my grandparents to hell—give me one reason why I shouldn’t levy the same verdict on you in reprisal.”

  Christian didn’t dare respond.

  After a long, tense moment, Lauren returned the selector switch to safe and jerked the rifle away, angling the muzzle behind her and to the floor. Her chest pounding, she put her mouth to Christian’s ear and screamed into it at the top of her lungs as she flung the M4 across the floor, and it skidded all the way to the hallway’s far end. Lauren then turned away and stomped off out the front door, banging it closed behind her.

  Grace gasped aloud and put a hand to her chest. “Jesus Christ…my heart.”

  Michelle looked as though she had come down with a sudden migraine. She took a seat at the table beside Grace and rested her head in her hands.

  Christian’s face was as pale as a ghost. His heart was beating through his rib cage. After taking a moment to gather himself, he stood and started walking to the door.

  “Babe, please don’t go out there,” Grace begged. “She needs a day or two to cool off after this. Trust me—she’s way too acrimonious to chat right now.”

  “I have no idea what that word means, but I agree with Grace,” said Norman, who had also moved in to take a seat. “You should probably let her chill.”

  “No. I have to talk to her. I have to finish this. I owe her at least that.”

  “Dig your own grave, then, dude,” John said indifferently. “It was nice knowing you, by the way.”

  Chapter 18

  It didn’t take Christian long to find Lauren. She was standing fast in the front yard not far away, looking directly at him, as if she’d known he would come for her.

  He stopped at first and, seeing the furious look on her face, decided to follow the cautious approach and walk at a snail’s pace toward her while trying to appear as apologetic as he felt. It was a struggle for him, as Christian had never been the best at conveying his emotions through body language.

/>   Lauren turned her back to him and balled her hand into a fist when she heard him close the distance.

  When Christian was within her reach, she whipped her body around and throttled him with a roundhouse punch to the side of his face.

  Wap!

  Christian recoiled from the blow and, several seconds later, shook it off. “Nice punch,” he said, trying to make light of it.

  Without hesitation, Lauren threw another wild blow, this time with her dominant left hand, the strike landing on the edge of Christian’s lower jaw.

  Whomp!

  Christian’s head jerked to the side and his body rebounded, falling backwards to the ground. His hand moved instinctively to where the pain had begun radiating from his jawline. It was probably one of the hardest punches he had ever felt in his life, but he decided it best not to offer up a compliment.

  Lauren edged closer to him and drew back as if to hit him another time while clenching her teeth. “You’re a bastard. Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this a secret from me this whole time?”

  Christian sat up and tried opening and closing his mouth a few times before massaging away some of the discomfort in his jaw. “Please. Considering the context of our first encounter, even you have to admit it wasn’t exactly the best time for me to broach the subject.” He paused and looked up to see her standing menacingly over him. “If I would have told you then, you would’ve shot me dead—no questions asked. Don’t deny it either, you know it as well as I do. I couldn’t risk it. Your deciding to bring me here was a total surprise, and after we got here…I’m sorry, but things happened really fast. I knew I had to eventually tell all of you. I just needed it to be the right time.”

  Lauren spoke with a gruff, bitter undertone. “You don’t get it, do you? The only expectation I’ve ever had of you was honesty. That’s it. And I’ve never asked you for anything. If you’re only capable of providing the truth when it’s convenient, what else do you have in store for us? What else have you lied about?”

  “I never lied to you. I’m guilty of omitting information, but I never lied to you, Lauren.”

  “That’s a damn thin line you’re walking, Christian. Let’s ponder this a moment—you’re guilty of omitting information, but as far as dishonesty goes, you’re in the clear. Really? You didn’t purposely mislead me?”

  Christian started to rise, but Lauren used her fist as a warning for him to remain on the ground. He complied. “Do you not remember aiming a gun at my face when we met? You were ready to kill me that day—right on the spot. I saw it in your eyes then, and I saw it again a few minutes ago.” He paused. “I was running for my life with nowhere to run when we met. I didn’t want to die. I swear to you, I didn’t mean to mislead you, and I promise you—now you know everything there is to know, the whole truth. I’m sorry things went down the way they did.”

  Christian’s explanation had not done a thing to deescalate Lauren’s temper. She swung at him again, but pulled the punch at the last second when she noticed Grace had come outside and was now watching from afar.

  “Yeah…now I know the truth. Thanks, Christian. Thanks a hell of a lot. As if this world doesn’t suck enough already. I mean, hell, why not add more shit to the already massive steaming pile?” Lauren paused, exhaling a sigh of despair. “My grandparents…are in a goddamn FEMA camp, in solitary confinement no less, awaiting sentencing for fabricated charges by some kangaroo court. They’ve been stuck there for months…and a person who I once trusted, someone I stood up for to my friends and my family—you—were not only there when it happened, you even abetted the undertaking. Tell me—did you have orders to shoot to kill? Did you hold them at gunpoint? Did you point a condition one M4A1 carbine at my grandmother’s head, Christian?”

  Christian shook his head in the negative. “No. I most definitely did not do that. My trigger finger was indexed, but my rifle’s muzzle was pointed at the ground. It didn’t leave the ready position that day.”

  “Full disclosure. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Lauren seethed. “I suppose I should thank you now or offer you some sort of recognition for it.” She released the tension in her fists. Still gritting her teeth, she sighed and turned her back to him.

  Christian embraced the moment and rose to his feet. “You know what—I’ve had enough of this. I know things are tough right now, and I’m sorry. But here’s a news flash. You have a home, Lauren. You have a family, friends, and neighbors you can trust. You have a roof over your head and people everywhere who love you. And you’re alive—you’re smart, healthy, and beautiful…and you have these gifts—you know how to keep it together when everyone else is falling apart. You have everything you could possibly need, so what else is there? What do you want so badly? What else could you possibly want in this world of yours that sucks so much?”

  Lauren turned to him and drove a finger into his face, her expression nearly unreadable. “You know what? This conversation is over. I am—livid right now, and this pedantic debate is only making it worse. I don’t even know what to say to you anymore. Please, just go away. Leave me alone.”

  “No, I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you—and I’m not leaving this place or this family,” Christian said. “My place is here with you—and with them.”

  “Christian, I’m warning you, okay? I don’t want to hurt you again, so would you kindly, please, just leave me the fuck alone!”

  “No! Not until you answer my question. Jesus, Lauren. You know me! You know I didn’t do any of this to hurt you! Everything I did, I did because I had to—not because I wanted to!” Christian paused. “For God’s sake, I told you about my dad. I told you how I stood silently and watched the DHS gun him down in cold blood for doing his job, and how I didn’t even lift a finger. I should have—I wanted to, but I didn’t. Because I knew what would have happened to me if I had. I’d be dead now, the same as him. I did it for self-preservation, Lauren. Look at me…and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

  Lauren recalled the shocking story he had told her regarding his father, the night they had spent together on the mountain at Sugar Knob cabin, and in turn, took notice of Christian’s plea. Moments after, her rage faltered and was replaced with an abysmal sorrow over feelings she had carried inside her aching, overburdened soul for far too long.

  A deluge of tears followed, and Lauren started to walk away, in search of a means of escape.

  Christian tried stopping her, only to have his hand shoved aggressively aside.

  “You’re going to get punched again if you keep it up,” she warned.

  Christian pushed down on the ball of his foot, flexing the muscle of his calf where he had been shot several weeks before. The ribs that had been bruised by the shotgun blast through his body armor on the day he had first made John’s acquaintance didn’t hurt much anymore, either. His shoulder did, though. That wound was more recent, and the pain, although indiscernible before, was now searing—exacerbated by his fall. He shrugged. “I think I’ve proven myself before a few times. I can take the abuse.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Lauren rolled her eyes, her sobs causing her voice to crack. “You really want to know what I want?”

  “Yes, I do—more than anything right now. If it clears the air, please, just tell me.”

  Lauren nodded and took a moment to wipe away her sniffles, then rotated to face Christian. “For starters, I want to be able to breathe again…without feeling my heart jump or skip a beat. Like I used to back before I started sleeping with one eye open…back when I used to feel safe. I want one night of sleep without waking up in a cold sweat from the recurring nightmare of someone trying to kill me. And I want just one day to go by without hearing a gun go off.”

  She paused, moaning out a deep sigh. “I want to see my best friend again. I haven’t seen Maddie since that day, and I have no idea where she’s at or what’s happened to her, but God…I miss her like crazy. I want her to talk my ear off about her day like she always used to, and I want
to laugh at her jokes. I want to go back to school and have John take me to homecoming…and prom. And I want to graduate and experience senior beach week, get accepted to Virginia Tech, graduate, enter the workforce, and enjoy an amazing, happy, normal life.”

  Lauren paused again, rubbing the reddened knuckles on her left hand. “Most of all, though, I just want to see my dad again. I want him here…standing right in front of me where you are, right now. I want to feel him hug me like he used to—to the point I could barely breathe. I want to hear him call me ‘L’, and I desperately want to see his smile. And now I want my grandparents here, too. I want them alive, safe, and out of that fascist shithole you helped deliver them to.”

  Lauren took a breath and shrugged off what remained of her tears. “I just want my world back, Christian. The one I had, the one I knew. The one that was stolen from me.”

  Christian had begun to tear up during Lauren’s soliloquy. He hung his head and stared at the ground, having no words of support to offer, nothing to add to what she had revealed.

  Lauren didn’t feel angry anymore. She was beyond that now. She only felt numb. She inched forward and put her hand to Christian’s chin, giving him no other option than to look her in the eyes. “I want to make myself clear,” she said. “I brought you here because you saved my life, and I gave you my trust because you gave me no reason not to. Since you’ve been here, you’ve won hearts and minds, and you have gained a lot of respect on your own. You fought alongside us. My mother likes you, my sister adores you, and you’re a part of this family now. But you are a part of this family I can no longer trust.” Lauren took a long pause. “If you ever cross me again or do anything to hurt me or my family—especially my sister, I swear before God, the next time I point a gun at you, I will pull the trigger.”

  Lauren brushed by him, storming off in the direction of the shed behind the cabin, leaving Christian to stand alone, having no conceivable idea where he stood.