The Risen: Dawning

by Marie F. Crow

  Aimes and I begin our normal nighttime routine of aimless chatter. Subjects float from what we would kill to have right now, to what we would have done if we had known the world was going to go to hell. Sometimes even, whom we would have done had we known what was going to happen. Her selections are always humorous and so out of our reach. Unless well known actors think to themselves, Hey, I would like to date a barmaid from a small town before my face is eaten, I think she is out of luck. We do all of this while we change into our sweats and tee-shirts for the night. Aimes smirks at Chapel’s reaction to us undressing before him with a mixture of male curiosity, and bashfulness. I have never seen someone arch so much to remove her socks. The woman may have missed her true calling in life.

  “Bathroom?” I ask, smacking her forehead telling her to stop it. “You are going to kill him.” I mouth wordlessly to her.

  “Sure. I could freshen up before Chap here keeps me warm all night.” She returns my exasperated look with a smile. “Do you know where they are?”

  “I imagine they will be the well-lit rooms adjacent to the hall.”

  “You’re so smart with them big words and that fancy book learnings of yours.”

  “I can’t help it. You just make me look so dem’ edu’m’cated.”

  “Touch of rude. Dash of unnecessary.”

  Our laughter carries us through the door. It covers how nervous we are to finally be stepping out into J.D.’s area. We did not expect however for Chapel to come stand over us, keeping us safe as we pass their doorway. He gives their room a look of caution. Standing in the space between it, he dares them with his presence until we are far enough away to be safe from any stray remarks. Even then, he leaves our door open to further prove the weight of his dare for them to stir any trouble.

  Chapel has finally found his light to guide him home. In this void he has been living in, he finally sees a spark of hope at being needed again. A man that has already lost one family is now claiming ownership of another. We have begun the healing process for his bleeding heart, proving to him that love can still be felt in this new design of a world. He has seen the bond Aimes and I still share even with all the horror we have witnessed and endured. Through all the pain we have drank of, we still believe in each other, and he wants that.

  He wants to feel that warmth of human touch again. He needs to feel the bond of trust again deep in his core to ease his own self-doubts and the many monsters that stalk him in the dark corners of his mind. The man they have dismissed as being weak now stands alone, leaning against our doorway with his own mirror of their relaxed stance. He is watching, and aware of, his surroundings as well as any of them have been in the past.

  J.D. takes the bait. He comes to lean on their doorway, staring Chapel down across the divide he has placed between us. Steel-colored eyes watching every movement, cataloging any weaknesses before him. He hopes to break him with his presence, as he has always been able to do before. To make the man bend to his will again with the pure fear of him.

  “Yo.” Chapel calls across to him in a mimic of Aimes’ exact word only moments ago. The word is so simple, but says more than the one syllable ever could hold. Chapel is declaring on whose side he now sits and to further prove it, he reaches down into his shirt, pulling out a gold chain attached to a small golden cross. The sign of his faith that keeps J.D. so on edge with the fact of it. He smiles to J.D. as the chain falls into place next to his heart.

  He has lost everything only to find everything again in our laughter and our tears. He is no longer afraid of J.D. Chapel has come home. With disgust upon his face, J.D. turns, returning to the room he shares with the others, slamming the door behind him hard enough to give Aimes a run for her drama title.

  Chapter 26

  The first stirrings of confusion nudge me from a warm, deep sleep. The sun is too bright. The arm around me too heavy. The scent too sharp. I feel my heart race with the confusion until the events of last night catch up to my sleepy mind.

  Aimes and I had returned to find Chapel filled with mirth over something he would not share with us. It made the once shy shadow of a man become playful with Aimes, returning her jests as fast as she could serve them. Their verbal tennis match filled the time we had left until our bodies grew lazy with sleep. We had fallen asleep to our laughter as we made hand puppets on the flat tiles of the ceiling above us, lost in the joy of our bonds.

  The heavy arm that is slung across my waist must belong to Chapel as he sought innocent reassurances in the pitch darkness of the night. The male scent that surrounds me is the strong soap lingering on his skin. I roll into his heat to stare at the man that, until now, has been a stranger to me.

  He rests on his back, softly snoring the way men do when reaching their deep stages of sleep. One arm is resting on me and his other is tucked under Aimes’ head that rests on his chest. She is cuddled up close to his side, seeking her own reassurance in her sleep. His shoulder length hair mingles with her own shades of blonde, weaving many shades between them. I lie here watching them deep in their peaceful sleep when the door opens, invading the private moment.

  Chapel startles instantly with the noise, pushing me down and pulling Aimes closer in an attempt to protect us from the danger his sleep filled mind has yet to locate. Shelia stands looking in the room without trying to see what is before her. She wears her embarrassment the way a woman wears a well-fitted gown. It covers every inch of her, making us aware of her for reasons that stir curiosity within us.

  “Breakfast is in an hour. We only serve meals at set times to help keep track of our pantry and to conserve energy. I didn’t want you to miss it.” She withdraws from the room, never meeting our eyes.

  Sharing a look of confusion between us, the three of us watch her leave. Her awkwardness is easily forgotten though as our stomachs remind us of the meals we skipped last night with the drama that enfolded our family. We choose our separate corners of the room to dress as conversation is freckled with our laughter encouraged by the new ease found between us. I guess waking up beside someone cures that nervous fidgeting.

  The tall man now in our life is not a replacement for Lawless. I watch him with his back turned to us and I crave the amber coloring of another man. Chapel’s laughter does not stir me the way Lawless’ does. Nor does his smile, as warm as it is, comfort the depths of my soul the way another does. Our comedy is one of shy testing, not full of hidden meanings that only years of shared moments can bring. I am wondering if I have the strength to let another become so close. Can I trust again to such a degree? Or, shall I always keep people at the surface where their loss cannot cut me so deep with haunted memories and damning dreams?

  “Everything seems much more depressing before coffee.” Aimes whispers in my ear, putting an arm around my shoulders. She could feel the weight of my thoughts from where she had been standing across the room.

  “Then I need a lot of coffee.” I smile at her, my constant counselor and navigator through life.

  “I can make that happen.” She smiles, placing her face close to mine with her own bright smile. “Just promise me you’ll brush your teeth afterward.”

  She dodges my shove, skipping away with her laughter following her and Chapel out the door. He pauses, holding on to the door frame, waiting for me to join them with a look of concern for leaving me behind.

  “I’ll catch up.” I sit to slip on my boots, letting him know I will be right behind them to ease his fears. His face wears a moment of doubt but he is forced to leave with Aimes’ constant chanting of his name in different pitches from further up the hall. I hate morning people.

  In the hallway, Lawless is waiting for me. He is leaning against the wall opposite our room with his head down. He turns to look, hearing me exit the room. He can still make my heart skip with one look and my body betrays me, stirring with his presence despite the amount of anger I hold for him over yesterday.

 
“Morning.” I keep my voice neutral. I mean for the word to be more forceful than the soft whisper that escapes me. My mind is chanting to keep walking, forcing one step in front of the other to make it past him. It screams at my eyes to not betray this façade of calm I am wearing as I go past.

  “Wait.” He calls to me, but I don’t. I continue down the hall to the bouncing pink streaks just a few saving steps away and the other man that kept us safe when Lawless chose his side last night. I walk to the two that stood beside me when J.D. sliced into me with his veiled threats and eyes. To the two that had the courage to be with me in my weakness and not judge me for it. He does not call for me again, and I do not look back. I keep my head forward, listening to his steps following mine down the hall.

  Breakfast consisted of a lot of nervous eye contact and pancakes, but not a lot of conversation. Out of habit, or unsure of where to go, our little dysfunctional family found one another at a table to one side of the school’s cafeteria. Sitting around us are small pockets of groups engaging in their morning routines surrounded by their normal morning faces. Our faces are drawn and blank, watching those around us who are lost in their small worlds with private envy of their joy.

  Shelia sits with Simon and a small girl in a family picture of bliss. Their love for one another evident in their gentle touches and the shy smiles they share. His tenderness only proving his flirting yesterday was all for show and pure irritation spurred by the male egos. Dolph and another man sit with them, enjoying the chance to be included in such an atmosphere. Their smiles are genuine at the jests shared with their group. The little girl shows every person at the table attention, proving their closeness with her trust of them.

  “Cute, huh?” Aimes has been watching the same table. “You know what is not cute?”

  I follow the motion of her head to see Leslie slinking her way to our table. The tension doubles with each pair of eyes that notice her. Most of the table has the decency to look away from where Lawless and I sit beside each other even with our strained relationship. Most being all but J.D., but he was never known for of any level of decency he held. He watches, an amused smile upon his lips, and Chapel’s words from last night come back to me.

  The bitterness rising inside me wants to pout, and lash out like a toddler, when Lesile’s arms encircle Lawless’ broad shoulders. Sharp barbs float over my tongue as her fingers seduce the muscles of his stomach under his grey cotton shirt. The soap opera has been set and everyone is waiting for my fall-out. They have underestimated me. I learned this passive-aggressive game a long time ago from the best. A smile is the most deadly of poisons to those trying to upset you and that is what I feed her.

  “Sorry to hear about Shaw. Simon was telling us how close you two were.” She pauses at the sound of my voice. It is apparent she is not accustomed to any challenges to her prey.

  “If you want, we can take you back there to bury her. I mean, if my best friend ever were to become zombie chow I would totally do everything I could to make sure she is put to rest properly.” Aimes chews her breakfast nonchalantly, feigning serious concerns for Leslie’s well being. “Wouldn’t you, Hells?”

  “I would. I just don’t know how I could ever live with myself if I didn’t.” I answer her with an over exaggerated sense of duty.

  “What about you Lawly? If your best friend forever were to become suddenly, I don’t know, destroyed or left behind, would you do everything you could to make it right, or just walk away forgetting about your loyalties and feelings for them?” Aimes cocks her head at him, making her eyes larger than normal with her sincere interest of the matter.

  Rhett chokes on the bite he is chewing, trying to recover from her words. He looks to Lawless sitting across from him with the still confused Leslie draping herself across his shoulders. Rhett arches an eyebrow waiting for an answer. He is not going to help his friend in this matter. Like all men, Rhett laces his tennis shoes at the first hint of female drama. Perhaps that is the real reason for his dating habits and not the guise he hinted at yesterday. Wimp.

  I am noticing Lawless for the first time since he has sat down. His body is rigid, even as her fingers trace circles across his chest and stomach. His hands sit clenched on the table, despite her soft whispering in his ear. I can see his lips pressed in a tight line of discomfort, not the male smile he was wearing yesterday with her flirting. He turns his head to look at us and what I see in those eyes speaks more than any sharp reply he could form. Lawless is not playing the game. He is a pawn in it as much as we are.

  What he may have said, or Aimes might have tried to do to soothe the hurt in his brown eyes, we were saved from when Simon joined our table.

  “Les, why don’t you see if Paula needs help in the kitchen?” He may have phrased it as a question, but it was anything but one. She lets her fingers slide slowly up Lawless’ chest, drawing out the “good bye” just to place another dare to me before leaving.

  “You really need to start keeping your knife around more. You just never know when you may need to stab something.” Aimes lets the words flow in time with Leslie passing behind her. “Still wearing your piece, Chappy?”

  “No. I figured it would be safer not to with Hells around.” Chapel answers in what he meant to be a teasing jest over yesterday’s theft.

  “When a man can’t keep up with his own piece, then yeah, it’s safer if he doesn’t wear one.” Lawless replies to that jest first, proving his anger from my actions is still evident.

  Simon’s laughter turns all of our heads to him. “Wait, wait. Let me see if I have this correct. You stole this man’s gun. Chapel, right? You stepped out, on your own, without your group’s agreement; to save a bunch of people you have never met before; who had no clue you were there; risking your own life against a bunch of those things. Should I go warn Les now or later about who she is picking a fight with?”

  “Later.” Aimes says. “You forgot the best part though. Going all chop-suey on the Risen with the blade that moi slipped her.”

  “Risen, huh?” Dolph’s southern drawl joins the conversation, questioning Aimes’ title for the new brand of danger that stalks us all now. His rifle is gone, but the bulge of his shirt hints at other weapons.

  “That’s what Chappy has dubbed them. It kinda stuck for us.” She shrugs. “What have you been calling them?”

  “We haven’t.” His answer leaves no room for further conversation on the topic.

  Aimes just widens her eyes at me. “Well okay.” She mouths in my direction from the shock of his response.

  “When you guys are ready, I’ll take you for a tour of the place.” Simon is still wearing his smirk. He is finding many things amusing this morning.

  “Ready!” Aimes and I say at the same time in our typical fashion. We are both looking for any freedom from this stalemate of our making.

  Simon looks to J.D. for consent. He is trying to rebuild the bridge so badly damaged with yesterday’s posturing from both sides. Dolph watches it all, his eyes swaying from his leader to ours with interest, taking notes of every shift of the conversation. It is obvious that his trust is not something he is ready to hand over just yet. Like a virgin at prom, he will make us work for it.

  J.D. holds Simon’s gaze, making him wait for his answer, before nodding his consent. J.D. has been silent for most of the morning, his eyes taking watch of every motion his children have made. I wonder what information he has stored from watching us. What weapon is he assembling in his mind for our next round? What ammunition have I loaded for him to use in that shiny new weapon?

  Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about it right now though. I know he is waiting, just as I am, for our games to begin. The only difference being that he is anticipating it. I am preparing for it. He is plotting it. I am planning for it. Like a bride on her wedding night, I am terrified by what I know is about to come, and yet knowing it will soon be upon me, it is thrill
ing.

  “Are you showing us or escorting us?” J.D. is stares at Dolph, who is taking a position behind our group with deliberate steps.

  “I guess that all depends on you now, don’t it?” Dolph’s southern drawl holds no subterfuge at the meaning of his words. He is waiting for one wrong move to be made. One reason to be given by us to prove to Simon how unsafe we are. He does not stare down J.D. with hidden threats. He does not mix any verbiage in a vocal debate. Dolph has plainly laid his hand on the table. The only dare before us is will J.D. call it, or fold.

  Chapter 27

  Our tour starts on the first floor as logic would entail. The bottom layer holds what one would assume to find in any high school. It is divided on either side by a gym with coordinating boys and girls locker rooms, a large library, and the cafeteria that we have just left is situated towards the back. It provides a nice view of the courtyard while eating. At this hour, already all of the rooms are full with life as people go about a new day.

  The second floor contains various sized classrooms. Now though, they are storage for items needed to run such a large compound. A few rooms have been set aside, designated to store the many weapons they have collected to keep them safe. All are behind more locked doors, keeping prying eyes and hands away.

  “How do you still have electricity?” Marxx is the first to test Simon’s openness.

  “The school has back up generators. We keep them fueled, and they keep most things up and running. We have learned to be less dependent on some things though. The vending machines, once their coolant was disconnected, take less energy to run than a hallway full of lights. Cold showers work as well as hot despite what the women say. Candles are for more than just ambiance. Mostly, it’s just about learning how to rethink our lives. Do stuff when the sun is up. Sleep when it isn’t. We haven’t had many issues.” Simon shrugs with the simplicity of it.