What's Left of My World (Book 3): We Won't Go Quietly

by C. A. Rudolph

  Lauren turned to look at her sister but said nothing, only smiled.

  “I think I’m starting to come around now. In fact, I think I can claim going full circle after seeing this.” Grace spent a moment marveling over the panorama. “I can see why you like it so much here.”

  Lauren nodded and cracked her knuckles. “I love it here. It ranks pretty high on my list of favorite places.”

  “I think it hit my top ten, too.” Grace looked to Lauren. “Question…and I don’t mean to bring this topic up incessantly—even though I do. But did you come here with Dad a lot? I know you two spent a lot of time hiking and whatnot.”

  Lauren nodded, and her smile, although faint, remained noticeable. “We came here a bunch of times. Dad made it a point to come often because it was my favorite hike growing up. I’ll never forget my first time here. It was magical then. Still is now, kind of.”

  “I second that,” Grace said. “It’s easy to get lost in it. Up here, you can forget about everything going on in the world—even if it’s just for a little while. Including time.”

  “It’s one of the only places where I’ve been able to feel true tranquility. I’ve missed it.”

  “Thank you, love. Thanks for bringing me here. And for everything else you’ve been doing.” Grace held up a hand and pointed a finger, grinning. “But please…shit-can the jokes—I’m not thanking you for them. You can stick them where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  Lauren reached out and grabbed at Grace’s finger. “You’re welcome. I think.”

  The pair walked to separate portions of the flat sandstone table officially considered the peak of Big Schloss. While Grace spent her time appreciating the vistas and creating memories of sights never seen before, Lauren assigned herself the duty of scanning the areas below through her binoculars.

  Grace broke the silence. “I hope you don’t mind my droning on about this, but when I said earlier that you were different—I wasn’t trying to be condescending.”

  “I didn’t take it that way at all, Grace.”

  “Good. I was serious, though, you have completely changed. It’s like the person you were months ago has ceased to exist somehow. It started out as a La Femme Nikita sort of thing, but now it’s way more than that. It’s your whole attitude. It’s everything.”

  Lauren smirked and turned to her. “La Femme Nikita? Really?”

  “Yeah, sorry. There are probably better ones, but it’s the best pop culture metaphor I can come up with, for the moment.”

  “Cute.”

  “I must admit, you worry me sometimes, love,” said Grace. “I see all these traits in you, and I haven’t the vaguest idea where they’re coming from.”

  “And that worries you?”

  Grace nodded. “Sometimes, yes, it does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel like I know Lauren, but not this Lauren,” Grace said, her palm gesturing to her sister. “This new, fearless Lauren.”

  Lauren looked away, sighing. “There’s a lot I could tell you that I haven’t told anyone before. It would explain in detail what you and the others have seen. But I’m just not ready to offer up a full confession yet. When the time comes, I will, though. I promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll hold you to that,” Grace said, fidgeting. “Because I’ve seen you do some things lately that are way, way out of character for you. For God’s sake, you killed some nasty, rabid, urchin biker dude in our house and had blood all over your hands like Dexter. You shoved a friggin’ ice pick into his throat, at that. If that’s not fearless, I don’t know what is.”

  “It wasn’t an ice pick,” Lauren corrected her. “It was a bladed projectile—a portion of the ballistic knife I fired at him.”

  “Okay, whatever—I don’t care what it was. I’m sure the result would’ve been the same. Dead gross guy with a piece of metal sticking out of his neck, lots of blood on the floor, shit like that.”

  “You’d think differently about me being so fearless if you had stood in my shoes that day,” Lauren said, glaring. “I was pragmatic at best. Maybe even a little utilitarian. But definitely not fearless. I was more scared in those moments than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

  Grace let out a long breath, silently recalling the events on the day that’d had her afraid for her own life. “I know exactly what you mean by that.”

  Lauren stood silent and still for a moment while her expression hardened. She set her jaw and stepped forward to the edge of the outcropping, the toes of her boots extending inches beyond the rim and over the abyss. “Things aren’t the same as they once were, Grace, and I’ve learned that I’m not, either. Something happened to me in the kitchen that day—something drastic. I don’t know if it was something he said or what it was…but a fuse blew and I just sort of…let go.”

  “Excuse me? You let go? Let go of what?”

  Lauren shrugged and stared into the distance. “Of who I once was. The person I used to be.”

  “You want to elaborate a little?”

  “I’m just not her anymore, Grace. And I think that’s good…because she has no place here. I had to let her go.” Lauren stepped back a few inches after a quick peek downward to the treetops underfoot. “There’s a new me inside this body now, and she is…I mean, I am different. You’re right. I have certainly changed.”

  Grace nodded. “Damn right you have.” A moment of silence passed before Grace continued. “Lauren—you want to know what else worries me?”

  Lauren turned to her with an inquisitive stare.

  “Last month, when the takers came and you fought them off, you were devastated after. In fact, I’ve never seen you so upset before. But the gunfight you and Megan got into at Devils Hole a week later didn’t faze you at all. And this latest fight? More of the same. It’s like the only effect it had on you was making you numb, and something that at one time bothered you tremendously…no longer seems to bother you anymore. It’s like you’ve gotten used to it.”

  Lauren folded her arms and strolled over to her sister as the breeze blew through her hair.

  Grace continued. “Look—letting go of who you were and embracing this new you—I get it. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it’s inside you now, and I get why it’s happening. You’re adapting to all this bad shit. And I’m glad you are because so far, it’s proven beneficial to everyone. Just, do me this little favor, okay? Don’t lose track of the ‘old you’. If the world ever returns to normal again in this lifetime, you never know—you might want her back.”

  Grace removed a clip from her hair, allowing the lengths to fall onto her shoulders while others swayed in the breeze. “It doesn’t matter who you were or who you’re becoming. You’re still Lauren. You’re still Alan Russell’s daughter, same as me. You’re still the one who used to send me texts and Facebook messages full of emojis and goofy memes all the time. You’re still the little girl, skinny as a rail, with the cute freckles I used to carry around like luggage because she refused to let go of me whenever I gave her a hug. You’re still her—you just grew up and somehow, along the way, transformed into a billy badass.”

  “Grace—if I hugged you and told you how much I appreciated you being so supportive, could we please change the subject?” Lauren asked, her eyes welling up.

  Grace smiled, holding out her arms. “Sure we can. Just don’t forget what I said.”

  “I won’t.”

  Chapter 12

  Mill Mountain

  Hardy County, West Virginia

  Thanksgiving. Thursday, November 25th. Present day

  Taking a turn south onto Mill Mountain Trail, Lauren motioned to Grace, reminding her to watch behind them periodically.

  As they approached within fifty yards of the game trail that would lead them steeply home, Lauren spotted something peculiar in the woods off to her right—something that had eluded her on their way up.

  Stopping, she suddenly shuffled to the edge of the trail and, after a brief pause, inched her way i
nto the woods while the leaves and underbrush crackled under her feet.

  Grace, never having left the trail, inquired from behind, “Really? What is it now?”

  Lauren continued without reply, sauntering over to a small clearing just above the mountain’s westward slope. She held her rifle tightly with both hands and closely surveyed the scene.

  “Earth to Lauren,” Grace said snidely. She proceeded off the trail and into the clearing. “Did I lose you?”

  When Grace was beside her, Lauren pointed to several spots among the leaves on the ground.

  Grace followed Lauren’s indication. “I don’t get it. Do you see edible mushrooms or something?”

  Lauren’s reply was solemn. “No, I don’t. What I am seeing, though, is something I’ve never seen in the woods before.” She paused. “Probably because they don’t belong in the woods.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Apples.”

  Grace squinted to get a better view. “Oh, okay. I see them now—they were blending in. So, wait—that’s something to get alarmed about?”

  Lauren frowned. “I can’t believe you had to ask the question. Do you see any apple trees around here, Grace?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, no.”

  “Me neither, and there isn’t an orchard around for miles. The only apples I’ve ever seen growing naturally in the forest are crabapples.” Lauren pointed again, this time to several pieces of fruit larger than her fist. “And those are definitely not crabapples.”

  Grace’s expression tightened, and she began to appear uncomfortable while she got closer, almost shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “Shit. You don’t think…”

  “I do think.”

  “I knew it.” Grace sighed. “You think someone put them here.”

  While Grace’s expression grew all the more worrisome, Lauren’s displayed urgency as she gestured to the surrounding trees. “Keep an eye out,” she said, and went to ground, kneeling near a small pile of overripe fruit, some of which bore teeth marks, appearing eaten or otherwise nibbled on by animals. Some revealed the seeds within their core. “Looks like some of the fish took the bait.”

  Grace shouldered her rifle and peered nervously into the surrounding forest. “Bait? Love, this is freaky. I think we should get the hell out of here…and I mean soon, as in now. I knew it was a mistake for me to start fancying the woods.”

  Lauren dropped her rifle and pack to the ground. “Calm down, Grace. Breathe. Just—keep your eyes open and shoot anything you don’t recognize.”

  Grace exhaled her reply. “Yeah, right. The last time I heard that advice, it didn’t turn out so well for me.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Reaching into an outside pocket of her pack, Lauren removed a pair of black nitrile gloves and slid them onto her hands. She picked up one of the nibbled apples and brought it closer to examine it. After looking it over, she brought the browned flesh inches from her nose and sniffed it. The apple gave off a fermented, yeasty odor, having lost its sweet aroma days or perhaps weeks ago, but she couldn’t detect any sensory cues confirming anything abnormal other than the fruit just being here.

  Lauren stood, dropped the apple and pulled off her gloves, stuffing them inside out, one inside the other. While doing so and looking just ahead, she spotted something else not far away near the trail. “Tracks,” she whispered.

  Grace brought her rifle in even closer. “Dammit. You gotta be kidding me. Where?”

  Lauren pointed her finger and moved swiftly to a human-foot-sized indentation. She moved some leaves out of the way to fully expose it and examined the tread, while doing her best to memorize the details, and then scanned ahead for more tracks. Upon finding another, Lauren crept over to it, repeating the motions.

  “Let me guess,” said Grace. “In addition to your expertise in forensic pathology, you have tracking skills, too.”

  “No, I don’t. But I wish I did now.”

  “Can you at least tell how many there were?”

  Lauren shook her head, reached for her rifle, and stood. “No. The tracks all look the same. It could be one person or several wearing the same boot. It doesn’t matter anyway. Someone was up here, and that’s not good, no matter how you view it.” She sighed. “We need to get back and tell the others.”

  Grace nodded her agreement. “Great. Fine by me. The longer we stay here, the more nervous I get. And right now, my anxiety is at a fever pitch.”

  Lauren tapped Grace’s shoulder and took the lead. “Come on. Let’s go ho—”

  A loud snap echoed through the woods, causing Lauren and Grace to jump. Lauren took off like a shot, quickly sidestepping to the closest tree for cover while motioning for Grace to do the same.

  Through the brush, Lauren could see the soiled faces of four younger men in their late teens, all wearing tattered, threadbare jackets, standing several yards away on Mill Mountain Trail. They were actively pointing their fingers to where she and Grace had been standing seconds before, but she couldn’t tell what weapons they carried, or if they even had weapons at all.

  Lauren turned, finding that Grace had gone to ground several feet behind her. She pointed to the game trail and in the direction of home. “Go!” she yelled. “Get out of here!” Then she darted off in the direction of the group.

  The group scattered into the surrounding trees to find concealment, leaving one of their cohorts to remain. The lone wolf was running toward her in a full-on gallop, already picking up speed, and he had a large gardening tool of some kind in his hand.

  Lauren snapped the safety of her M4 off instantly and pulled the trigger two times in succession, smacking the young man in the chest with both suppressed shots. His legs halted and his feet held fast, as if anchored to the ground. As his body angled forward and down, she tapped the trigger once more, placing a single shot into his forehead and dropping him dead.

  Just above the ringing in her ears, Lauren heard footsteps behind her and turned quickly to see that Grace had not departed the scene like she had asked her to moments before. “Thanks for sticking around,” she whispered.

  “Are you kidding?” quipped Grace. “I don’t care if you are better at this shit than me. I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

  Lauren smiled. “Good to know.” She gestured ahead and then to her sister’s rifle. “Can you cover me?”

  Grace furrowed her brow and nodded an eager yes.

  A sizeable slab of sandstone lay not far ahead and just beside the trail. It looked suspect enough to serve as a hiding place for the remaining men in the group. Lauren crept toward it with caution, heel to toe, never allowing her legs to cross over, readying herself to dispatch whatever jumped out at her.

  When she turned the corner, a young man launched himself at her and grabbed the suppressor on Lauren’s rifle. He pulled and whipped at it with strength and intensity while keeping the barrel pointed away from his body. Not wanting to accidentally crack a shot off, Lauren moved her finger away from the trigger, and her body flapped like a flag in the breeze while she and the much stronger boy tussled over the weapon.

  The two went back and forth for what seemed like several minutes in a tenacious game of tug-of-war over the weapon. At one point, Lauren thought to just let him have it, but she didn’t know if she could get to her sidearm in time before he could turn it on her. To further complicate things, there were still two more of them out there. They were hiding somewhere nearby, and either one or both of them could pounce on her, or even join in on the fun any second. She wondered why they hadn’t already. Lauren also didn’t know where Grace was, or how she’d be capable of performing under duress, and this whole situation was approaching the point where it could get way out of hand.

  While struggling to maintain her grasp, Lauren flipped the safety back into the on position on the M4. Then she pushed the magazine release with the thumb of her weak hand, dropping the thirty-round composite magazine into the leaves below. As t
he teen yanked harder on the gun, she moved her hand away from the grip and onto the charging handle and then allowed the boy to win the tugging match.

  As he pulled back in victory, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, she latched onto the charging handle and ejected the chambered cartridge into the air and off to the side. The boy’s eyes went wild. Lauren drew the Glock from her thigh holster and lined her sights up on his chest, firing a double tap into him. She watched as his body fell to the soil just as the third young man emerged, screaming obscenities and flailing his arms riotously.

  Lauren tried to react, but the boy’s momentum overcame her, and he thrust her sidearm aside, knocking it from her grip. He tackled her and she went backward, landing hard on the ground with his body weight falling on top of her. She thrashed about as he threw turbulent punches toward her face, some of which were able to make contact. Others glanced off her head, neck and shoulders.

  Lauren could hear Grace’s voice bellowing behind her. Then she heard a shot ring out that took the boy’s attention away from her, and she took advantage of the delay.

  She tilted her body upward, throwing a hard fist into his windpipe and while he gasped for air, she rolled over and crawled out from under him just as a flurry of shots blasted overhead, shredding him.

  Lauren looked up to see a thin column of visible gases rising from the muzzle of Grace’s AR-15 and a set of eyes as wide as saucers not far behind the aperture of her flip-up rear sight.

  Finding the weapons she’d misplaced, Lauren snapped the M4’s magazine in, chambered a fresh round, then glanced at her sister while holstering her Glock. “Good shooting. Thank you.”

  Grace shuddered and tiptoed nervously over. “Um…you’re welcome.” She started lowering her weapon, but Lauren snapped her fingers at her, shaking her head no. Grace cocked her head to the side. “What?”

  Lauren held up four fingers. “There were four of them.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Lauren was already back to work, marching onward and scanning the trees. “Positive,” she said. “Keep your head in the game. It’s not over yet.”