Gary's Trilogy (Book 3): Still Myself, Still Surviving (The Retaliation)

by Marlin Grail

  Just as he lets his knife be his again, his blade no longer sunk into the head of the undead, Holcomb goes onto a new tangent.

  “You know what? We’ve been in this cemetery for some time without much trouble. Need I remind everyone we’re in a city that once had a large population, but not many converted are around. Why is that?”

  It’s a valid point. I know undead boost in sensory of vision at night. While that should still be the case, we haven’t seen that many around. We should be seeing herds all over. But we’ve only seen dropped and dead bodies, and occasional loners.

  Another invisible slip of paper with thrown-together thoughts is drawn on.

  This time by me.

  “Could the undead be getting attracted to G.? I was told G. is the most evolved out of C.F.O.G. Could her presence be luring them to her?”

  The theory at first is received as more of a joking jab at her, but then all of us stop and think about it.

  Finally, Ernie decides it’s time to make a call. “Let’s head to the Capitol. If there are no swarms surrounding it, then that should be our indicator they’re not around. More importantly, what matters is we go with Gary’s gut on this. Let’s actually look for large sums of the infected.”

  There’s always an opportunity to try something new, isn’t there?

  Ernie directs us into a diamond formation, with me being the back tip. Holcomb every now and then checks to make sure I’m still here. “Your feet are quiet, dude.”

  “Just walking like a cat. That’s all.”

  Jefald, seeing as how he and I haven’t spoken to one another whatsoever, at least not without Holcomb or Ernie in on the conversation, at last speaks to me solo. “Hey, while you’re behind us, don’t forget to look above. These rooftops could have opposition.”

  “Of course,” I agree.

  It’s still about the mission, but, nonetheless, he actually made eye contact with me. That’s a new responsibility for me, but also a new opportunity to gain his trust by taking it on.

  I witness broken cars, crumbling and weathered structures, and receded grass all around me. Those things appearing dead is what calms me the most with each movement we make on these deserted avenues.

  Then in the distance, where no echoes drift towards us, something suddenly greets the environment with new sounds.

  Gunfire.

  Chapter IV

  All of us bend our knees. Our heads loosely turn, no longer stiff and still in calmness.

  “That’s coming from farther down there!” Jefald declares, along with a finger point to the northeast region.

  “Could this be related to us—” Holcomb fires up before Jefald hushes him harshly.

  Jefald makes distressed and curt sounds in his throat to silence everyone, but I believe he’s doing it to not get overwhelmed himself by the uproar in gunfire. “I would doubt it. At the train depot, those people weren’t related to the mission. This could be another batch like them, which we don’t have to worry about!”

  “Quiet! Both of you!” Ernie orders.

  Only the erratic cadence of bullets flying in a region that we can’t precisely pinpoint dominates all sound. With the back and forth sounds of two factions fighting, we can tell this is something more than just survivors defending themselves from undead.

  This is some sort of warfare.

  Claw’s followers! Are they making an assault on Casey?

  “I feel this could be related!” I raise, piercing through every one of their distracted expressions. “Claw had brought some of his ‘followers’ with him! I’m sure he’s having them help fight Casey and his unit! Likely, he prepped them up to think they were part of the ‘aggressor army’ he had us believe!”

  Ernie isn’t showing so much interest in the fact those people Claw has following him could wrongfully die. More than anything he wants to know just how many there are.

  “Like I said before, 13 total when including Claw and O.!”

  “All right!” Ernie acknowledges. “We should find out exactly what’s happening!”

  He gives a two-finger signal at the three of us to follow him down the street. Even as we know the shooting is farther away from us, Ernie has us take precaution, and slams us into cover behind several of these broken cars. I accidentally scrap the back of my ankle when I step into a deep hole in the road’s pavement, which slows me down.

  Ernie prep-talks me to not stop and to keep up. He delivers this in a voice I find almost unrecognizable. It creates a transformation in me. I ignore the nerves reacting to pain, a kind where it starts like fire, then breathes out in a stretch of chill.

  I know it’s an open cut, but I push on anyway.

  I grab hold to the street pole where they waited for me while I began limping.

  “Head for the building the longest on the right!” Ernie commands.

  Maintain control of your breathing, Gary. You can only rest when you know Trey, and all of those people with him, don’t all end up getting hurt, even killed.

  A lone undead walks down the concrete pathway opposite to us, crossing the street in a weak attempt to catch us while we’re distracted by the main sounds of violence.

  “No luck for you, ass!” Holcomb taunts as we enter in through the broken door.

  The ascent to the peak of the building is deliberately skimmed over by skipping steps and nudging open doors with foots. We then find an accessible window that’s high enough for Jefald’s sniper scope to zoom in on what’s happening.

  “Gary, watch our backs!” Ernie instructs.

  As much as I desire to hone in on the little dots of shadows I can faintly make out from the lit-up barrels of several gunners, I obey Ernie’s order. I do make a request though.

  “Jefald, say out loud what you see.”

  Ernie and Holcomb jointly open up the window for Jefald. He clicks with his tongue and stabilizes his stance. I notice that the tripod can rest barely on the window sill. Soon the three of them unknowingly tease me with their animated awes of shock.

  “What is it?” I say, the question coming out ruder than I figured it would.

  Jefald puffs with reluctance to bring out his eye from the scope, possibly wanting to look as though he’s still gathering information.

  But I know he’s already aware of everything he can.

  “Tell me,” I worry at him again.

  “I definitely spotted 11 shooters. You said C. and O. made 13?”

  It has begun…

  Chapter V

  (Lissie)

  This is the worst I’ve felt. Beaten, gutted, and left to suffer, and not a hostile finger’s been laid on me.

  Janice is trying to comfort me, but they all might as well be gone. My frenetic wailing and shaking must be the most she’s ever seen.

  I’m not sorry, but I say something that’s too much for her. She just gets up, and backs out of our conversation.

  I told her I regret loving Gary.

  He provided me care and comfort, but then he scars me up more than anything else has from this “sacrifice” he made. If only I didn’t give into emotions. If only I smacked his lips away the first moment he ever tried to kiss me. It hurts so much that, right now, I’d rather have taken the route of fantasizing “what could have been” over “what actually was”.

  He’s made me feel so much, and I hate it because of how much it hurts.

  I’m in a darkly lit corner of the hangar, hiding myself behind some organized objects, weeping uncontrollably. I’m angry, afraid…mostly afraid of what happens next.

  I can’t see, nor do I want to, imagine my life at this point without him. He can’t be dead, but it seems he is. I won’t end my life over it, but I currently feel my life is over regardless.

  The final nail to the coffin of our time together hits me when knowing why it happened.

  The very sight of the one who shared the news has me sickened by the fact it was him who made Gary do this. It was this stupid idea of his that took my love life to the extreme,
of which I have no more love life, because my love is gone.

  Gary’s gone, because of him.

  I can’t punch the killers. I still have no idea who did it. Will has his assumption that this is tied to C., but I don’t want nothing to do with that damn insanity. With that said, I can convict this man in charge of sending Gary off as the true killer.

  I start setting up a trap in my mind.

  Janice, fatigued by my way of relieving pain, has gone over to them. I’m offended, to an extent, based from the irrational part of my mind, but I do know why she thinks I’m off the deep end.

  Waiting for his figure to be above mine, plotting the right time to take a blow to his chin? I guess I would be off the deep end.

  “You don’t deserve to distort Gary like that, Lissie!” is what Janice had loudly cried to me. Her volume caught most of everyone’s attention, even capturing Ashton’s focus, who was, and still is, currently receiving better medical care than we could’ve ever given him for his foot.

  Ashton is getting aid from the true killer’s people. His pristine blue tie and black blazer is in more power here than I’m wanting to give him recognition of.

  I do realize I could screw over Ashton. I will probably screw all of our group up anyway. I hope Janice and that man remain reluctant to come over to me for a little longer, at least until I know Ashton’s foot gets fully patched up.

  But our group can do just fine without these people around us. Gary wanted us to stay here…but I can’t. I can’t exist on these grounds, knowing for every moment onward that he’s not with me, and that it was here that took him from us.

  From me.

  “Lissie.” Will approaches, intruding on my private tears. His baritone voice is heavy with sorrow. It comes from the other side of these metal shelves I’ve boarded myself behind. “I’m sorry, Lissie.”

  “Can you please not do this?” I warble, a plea for no one to try and pull me out of this pit I’m confining myself in.

  It’s meaningless in his eyes. He’s got this incessant need to prove his leadership quality of compassion, but it feels forced. It’s not like how Gary’s felt.

  “I’ll just kneel right here, okay?”

  “No. You can’t help me, Will. Please, just let me—”

  “You don’t know much about me, Lissie.” He sounds as though I’ve finally offended him one time too many on this subject.

  That’s a double-standard on his part, considering how many times he pushed me over the edge verbally. I think everyone in our group felt that about Will for a while. He pushed buttons every time his sensitive temper would go off.

  However, I can’t necessarily say his temper acts like it used to. I do have to credit he’s stopped significantly on it, practically as soon as he saved our lives a month ago.

  I owe him that awareness because he’s improved a lot.

  As I brush the strands of hair from my face that provoke me further, my spicy attitude takes aim at him. “Are you going to lecture me? The way Gary probably would’ve?”

  “No. I’m going to say what Janice won’t.” He quickly rubs his lips, a sign he’s shown before when reluctant but still determined to keep plowing on. “I’m not going to say it’ll be all right. I don’t know that. I’m also not going to tell you to not feel this way. You have the right to. You are equally allowed to react the way you are as Gary—”

  “Please. Just freeze for a second. Don’t say his name. I can only say his name, but not you.”

  He catches on that I didn’t tell him to not proceed, and he visibly swallows his secret embarrassment. “Um. This isn’t something I’m decent at, but I might be the only one out of our group that can tell you I know. I know how scary this must be to you.”

  I focus my gaze to one of the personnel’s desk because I don’t want to look at him directly. I study a few details of the work station, and intertwine those details to my current trouble. There’s a pencil laid out on a letter. The letter could be anything, likely anything other than what it’s making me think about.

  I’ve got nothing unique to tell about my tragedy. I’m sure I would be seen as a copy of a copy to someone else in my position. I understand this logically, but that doesn’t mean I want to think in a logical mindset about losing the love of my life. You can’t logically explain away love.

  I can’t explain to anyone why I love Gary.

  I have to start exercising trust. I finally turn my gaze to Will, wondering if his expression will prove he knows my situation—personally.

  It sounds like he may be the only one in this hangar that can understand what I feel.

  “Who have you lost?” I intuitively press.

  He’s rested a hand to his knee that’s balancing him. The fingers curl into a tight fist. Once my eyes concentrate solely on them, his tone shows the same exercise of trust I had to practice by turning and engaging with him.

  “I lost my girlfriend…Cher…” He burrs when he says her name. “I haven’t said that name out loud in a long time. Sorry it’s taking me a bit to start…to say what happened.”

  “Take your time,” I murmur.

  His blinking becomes extraordinarily fast. He then grips the metal leg of the shelf that divides him and me. Hard. He’s breathing with difficulty, and his exaggerated coughs of emotional pain, make me start backing up on my own grief.

  However, he manages to not let a single drop fall down his face, unlike me, who’s silently envying that ability of his because I can’t talk at this point.

  I’m crying too much.

  “Cher was such a wonderful soul. Now, she’s a memory. A good one, because I’ve ensured I don’t blame her for the pain I feel about us being split. I wouldn’t trade this pain in ever, because then I wouldn’t know the great times she and I had. Did you and Gary ever get those chances to make unforgettable experiences?”

  I feel my stomach lower, as though I’ve fallen from a great height.

  Gary and I shared an intimacy I’d never known could burn me in excitement and pleasure. But I’m too messed up emotionally to admit the truth to Will.

  “I don’t want to remember! I’ll miss not being able to make more,” I gargle from my voice cutting in and out.

  “I know you will,” he says, understanding. “But you shouldn’t prevent yourself from being warmed by what you’ll never forget every time you think or feel about that time.”

  I’m cold though. I wish to forget, but that’s because I’m afraid of the burning and yearning for Gary’s warmth up against my skin again.

  “I don’t think I’m there yet,” I reply, shaming myself.

  Will nods slightly enough for me to notice. His gaze darts back behind him, diverting his attention to Ashton.

  He’s trying to balance time for the three of us. It’s morbid to imagine because of Gary’s passing that he’s switched up his gears to quickly soothe everyone. Maybe this is what Gary saw in Will, which is why he made him next in line as leader.

  But he can’t replace Gary. That’s why it’s weird to see him trying to be soothing for everyone.

  “Thank you.” I mean it. “I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

  He provides only a formal nod as response. I give back the same. As soon as I watch him reach Ashton’s medical bed, I’m reminded of my original plan I had for Gary’s true killer.

  It’s at that moment Janice and that man happen to begin making their way over to me.

  At least now, my original intentions revert to just a fantasy. It’s not an active plan anymore.

  “Lissie, please let him tell you he’s sorry.” Janice’s own reddened eyelids, at the stage where no more tears come out—like they’d burn if fingers touched them—wants me to get there too. “He’s on our side, Lissie. We haven’t had that many people with us, on our side… Gary’s promise wasn’t just persuasion for you to let him go.”

  I fidget with a screw bolted in on the metal leg beside me, working my nail to strip its head as I contemplate.

 
Gary’s never lied to me. He’s never held back on his word. If he says we’ll be safe here…I have to believe him. That’s how our love will never truly stop. As long as I believe in Gary and what he stands for…then he won’t entirely be gone.

  “Miss…” This head of the hangar has the ability to be a tear jerker—he’s made that clear with me—but his new unassertive tone to subtly ask for my name shows his sensibility.

  “Lissie.”

  “Miss Lissie,” he says with new certainty, “We are friends here. I don’t know if I can sugar-coat anything about your leader—”

  “Gary,” I sharply cut in, “his name was Gary. And, as much as I’d like to rant and rave about your responsibility in his death, I can’t disrespect my love like that.” When he stalls from apparent discomfort, I permit him to continue.

  He clears his throat. “Your friend, love, has done a great sacrifice on so many levels. Because of that, I will not go back on my word I gave to him. You and your people are gifted great authority and respect on these premises from here on out. With that being said, is there anything I can do to make things less painful for you?”

  The opportunity to leave the base is available for me.

  I could say the words “I want to leave this place!” and he’d have to obey. This is what I would do, if I was in an alternate reality, one where Gary and I weren’t a couple.

  If I leave in this reality, then I’ll be disrespecting what he stressed over daily. His group’s survival. He wanted us as safe as possible…and having all of these people around does help.

  I’ve not been the best girlfriend to him. Possibly, in the modern world last year, I wouldn’t have been the right girl for him at all. I didn’t show him all the pieces of me that craved him every second he was around. He had all the perfect qualities I could’ve ever wanted in someone, but I know I didn’t offer him the same effort in our relationship.