The Integration (Part I): Still Myself, Still Surviving

by Marlin Grail

  The radio is quiet, regardless of me indicating to him I want to hear his response.

  “Please. We're not deceiving people, and we just want to know what you have to offer us.” I say, with mostly truth, but with a spice of manipulative nature.

  “… Tell you what,” he abruptly throws at me, “if you can be spotted from where you're at, then it'll prove to me you're really as close as you say you are, but DO NOT move at all from where you're at.”

  We all look at each other, one by one, and listen to nothingness, except the man's purposeful breathing on the radio. “Well lookie-lookie.” He says, sounding repulsive to me, for it is disrespectful to the serious matters he's insinuated will come about. “Fine. All the 5 of you move forward.”

  We slowly walk ahead, taking in every crunch from breaking leaves below, but none of us can seem to pinpoint how he could see where we are at.

  “Keep moving. You already got the good idea of taking it nice and slow.”

  Spontaneously, when I turn my head to my left, where Lissie is, I see an undead lunge at her. “Lissie! Left!” I yell out.

  Her fast reflexes are capable of catching the undead, before it can chomp into her, but she does not have the pistol equipped in either hand.

  Will, who is right next to her, scrambles to pull out his knife and go to stab the undead in the head, but right before that can happen, a loud shot is heard zooming behind us. The undead falls limp, with a sharp bullet hole to its head.

  Lissie, free from its malevolence, lets it drop to the ground. Both Lissie and Will look to the rest of us to see who fired at it, but we are amazed to find none of us did the shooting. “Consider that one complementary to telling the truth,” the man says.

  I look ahead, and see a moving figure in the distance, waving their arms up in the air as to draw attention to themselves. “No need for the radio anymore. Just move forward as you were.” He instructs, giddy by the end of his statement.

  With it abundant that the shot was behind all of us, it would be safe to assume he was not responsible for saving Lissie, but someone else he knows did. With our distance between the group and him, roughly about 100 feet away, the man's facial details are hard to make out, but it only stirs all of us to find out who we have been communicating with.

  He calmly strolls down to us, as though he has walked this path many times. With each second, he becomes more and more defined. Only several feet away now, I can notice his full attire. He is wearing knee-high combat boots, dark blue jeans, an open denim jacket, with a white-plain shirt underneath, and gray wool gloves. He has long black hair that reaches his neck line, and a thick facial beard. “Alright!” he exclaims in excitement. “Doesn't it feel good that you have allies you didn't even know out here?!”

  “Gary.” I say with an austere smile. “Thanks for the save.”

  “Well, I know it wasn't you I saved. Instead, it was her. What's your name?” he asks Lissie.

  She refuses to reveal it. “Let's here yours first.”

  He scans at all of us with a funny-looking smirk on his face. “C.,” he says, “my name is C.”

  “Just C.?” Will asks.

  “Mmhm. Yep. Now, for that name?” he asks Lissie again, still with a friendly persistence.

  “Kayla.” She responds, withholding her real identity from him.

  “What a pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says to her, elegant with his hand gestures. He then turns his head to Will. “Let me guess your name man. A Southern accent… you're Will?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” Will confirms, and uncomfortably shakes the already open hand that C. has stuck out.

  C. then goes across from me, and next to Janice. “Hey, Miss…”

  “It's Janice, Janice Edna.” She completes, while going to shake his hand with good-nature.

  “And, lastly, you are?” C. asks Ashton.

  “I don't know, should I be giving my name to someone who was threatening us from the beginning?” Ashton mockingly asks.

  “Look, people, it's just protocol. Believe me, there's some bad people that we've come across that don't respond too well to cordial speaking. So, I'm telling you it was nothing personal. Now, for that name? he asks Ashton, again persistent, but less friendly.

  After a couple of seconds of reluctance, “Ashton. Name's Ashton.” He admits, but denies C. a handshake.

  C. takes a few steps back, aligning perfectly in front of my vision. “Now, Gary, I hear you're the boss of these people, like Harold before you. In case you're wondering, yes, I knew Harold, and he knew me before any of you.”

  “This wasn't how it was supposed to be, was it?” I genuinely ask him.

  “Of course not.” He answers back, shocked I even questioned that. “No. The ambush on you guys was totally a slip through on our part. We've had... rebellious kinds attack some of our groups—destroying their vehicles on these roads—and very often killing them, so I'm glad most of you came out alive. Know that your guys' pain is also ours, and we want to help you in return.”

  Will, vigorous in his tone, cuts in, “You said Harold's death happened on his own terms. How do you know that? And what deal did you guys have?”

  C. begins to appear more serious in his look and voice. “He didn't die on my hands, but he died by not following the instructions I gave him if he failed his end of the bargain. Originally, he was to come to one of my checkpoints with the RV, the supplies, and you all, and in return, we would allow safe passage to freely exist in the area without complications from us. Unfortunately, he went to a checkpoint by himself—on foot—with none of you, and couldn't be gifted clearance. Needless to say, he didn't follow the instructions. The gunners ended him, fast and swiftly.”

  “Will, did you know about this?” I say.

  “Not one bit.” He answers, with the sound of clenched teeth holding in his uproar of anger.

  “Don't get mad at me, Will,” C. says, surly and big-eyed, “we are not adversaries, but we have a process for practically everything in the world of now. Harold knew me before I rose to where I am today, so I let him do things the way he thought needed to be done, but it took way longer than it should have, and, eventually, he left the scheme of things to me—until about a month ago when he said he was bringing 'great resources' back. Look, if you're all that's left, you have a lot to prove, but, since you all seem decent enough, you get a fair shot.”

  Lissie asks, drawing in his attention, “The shelter is yours, right? What do you want in return?”

  “I'm sure you already knew I wanted something.” C. responds, while glaring at Lissie, no longer adorning his face with a happy look. “It's simple, really. Work for me, by doing supply runs, finding and setting up more places for new groups like you, and, in return, you get to stay in that shelter—not harassed and not in harm's way.”

  C. stares back at me, looking to see my bewildered expression. Silence fills the area, while he connects his finger digits to form a prism with vertices—awaiting our response.

  The charm and aggression he has shown so far is familiar to Harold, which better explains the parallels between these 2.

  The harsh truth is our alliance with Harold has always been an allegiance to this man, like the halves of his finger-constructed prism from both hands—reflecting each other perfectly.

  Chapter X

  “Do we even have a choice in this proposal of yours?” Ashton asks C., disgruntled.

  C. turns his body perpendicular to us, angles his head down, and gives Ashton a look of disbelief with a cracked laugh.

  “Do you think I would bring you out here, taking my time and resources, to just let you deny my offer and go back?” he asks, with a baffled tone to his throat.

  I take a step forward from everyone, which takes the spotlight, and now C. and I are looking straight at each other—both of us equally the same height. “C., we seek no reason to fight, but this is a lot to absorb at once.” I explain, once again, trying to defuse any tension that I sense brewing.


  He walks to me, which makes me wary on a hidden level. He places a hand on my shoulder. “Gary, I can tell you have insight about people—at least the ones that stand out the most. You have right to be unsure, but it looks to me that you want to do good for your people. Help me, and I'll help you help them.”

  I begin looking down at where the ground is, turning my head to my left to see Lissie and Will's mute reactions at what crossroads we have been presented. Lissie has a look of wistfulness.

  Maybe she's thinking of regrets for being convinced to have stayed with our group. I can't know for sure, until I actually push the need to know what has depressed her—with this event only driving the angst deeper.

  Both of them appear extremely detached from where they are at. I then look to my right. Janice is showing more of a warm smile every time she looks at C., but something is amiss in her mind, and can be noticed when she is only looking ahead in the foreground. Ashton catches my eyes with his, and, at this very moment, I can already tell he is not afraid to make a risky move.

  I raise my head up, confident we would make it out of the area inflicted if we tried to inflict first, so, for the sake of protecting our group, I make the situation alleviate in tension. “Okay. We will accept your offer. Where do we begin?” I ask him.

  He pats his hand twice on my shoulder with joy, and delivers an enchanted open smile. “That's more like it! This, you will not find disappointing!” he emits with passion. “Think of it all as an opportunity to live in a world where your greatest concern is more the turned and the converters, and less of people like us. Yeah, they won't disappear entirely, but we all work to eradicate those contumacious survivors, through persuading them to unify and counteract this diabolical way of just 'getting by'. Never again should you all have to worry about low shortages, low ammunition, or low allies.”

  Ashton loses his composure and decides he is done listening to C. try and convince him. “No. I've heard enough. We we're around Harold, and you sound as rancid as he was. This meeting is ove—” Ashton yells, flapping his fists in the air, until being cut off from the loud noise of another secretive round fired from someone in the woods.

  I immediately look over, and can tell a bullet zipped right by Ashton's right ear, making him heel to temporary deafness. He hunches down in shock and hurt from what just occurred. “You see, Ashton? You think because you knew Harold that you know me. Guess again.” C. says, in a transition from light-heartened talk, to a cold, festering, rage. “Gary, the first rule to leadership is knowing when to pull at your pups.”

  “Ashton is not just one who kneels to me. All of us are more than just a representation of a hierarchy. They are not just the extension of my profile. They have right to speak for themselves as much as I do.” I argue with a bold tone, due to being worried for Ashton.

  “You know what? You're right. I'm sorry, but, Ashton, please don't present yourself as though you're going to try and do something irrational here,” he says, actually apologetic with his body language, “because the one firing is used to dropping folk who wanted to hurt me—not that I have to be guarded and protected all of the time.”

  Janice has her hands on Ashton's back, wanting to make sure he recovers from the intentionally intimidating shot fired at him. Everyone else looks with concern for him. C. takes a few more steps back, to suggest a departure starting. “Thank you all for joining this ever-expanding enterprise we've got going on. You can go back to your new home and take today to get settled in. Be prepared for tomorrow's honest work that will come. Do well, and you'll receive your own benefits, such as food, water, medicine, weapons—well basically all that you could want for now and tomorrow. I'll give this radio to the one who will practically be your 'supervisor'. Again, this one was Harold's, but you know…” He says, sounding a little embarrassed from a bad joke he was thinking of bringing up. “Anyways, they'll radio around the time I did today, so be sure to get a goodnight's rest.”

  C. begins walking a few steps backward with his fingers pointed at me, as though with admiration, and begins strolling back, looking above at the sky. “Clouds in the sky, but no rain! Take the droplets you can get!” he says in the distance.

  I can tell, even before, that he wanted to make himself look in control, but it feels more in regards to me, as though I challenged him, but perhaps I did. Sometimes now, I do not know if the way I interact is with overconfidence, or with resilience.

  For that, I let us watch him, until he can only be seen as a moving figure of anonymity down the path that curves his direction out of our sights. Afterward, my attention goes directly to Ashton, who Janice is already comforting with concern. “Ashton, are you alright?” I ask, worried.

  “Nothing's better than hearing the BS that comes with this “enterprise” he's claimed we're apart of now.” He says, to both answer and assure the anxiety we have for him. “I think it's best we go back now.”

  “Yes.” I say with a lighter breath.

  Right when I finish agreeing to our return to the shelter, Will is the first to begin walking back, moving faster than the rest of us. Certainly, he has justification for his wide stomps—that feel like they should leave fiery imprints with each step he takes. While walking behind, there is an extra gap between Lissie and I. I know she would like to make a run for herself, so she can escape this commitment we all have been forced into, but we all seem to still have the perpetual fear whoever had fired twice is continuing to watch us out of the woods—and would not be okay with movement we have not shown them before.

  I see Janice is speaking with Ashton, wanting to keep the talking low, so I decide to close the gap between Lissie and myself—wanting to know what she really thinks. “Lissie. I know nothing I say will change how we all are feeling about this current situation.”

  She continues to walk in silence, though it doesn't seem she is ignoring me.

  “To be honest, Lissie, I would like to know what you have been tripping in your head over and over since yesterday, and before then actually.”

  She responds back, without having to look at me, “You're being kind to want to know, but it's not appropriate for now, and I don't want to hear another wise-crack lecturing from you at the moment.” She tells me in a cold manner.

  I nod gently a few times, and look down at the ground in front of me while we walk. A few moments pass, and it seems she wants to make up for her non-stop brooding she has shown everyone.

  “Actually, I'm interested in hearing with what you think about all of this.” She says while viewing me with her brown eyes, which I have not been able to see in detail without them swiping away from mine.

  Ever since I've known her, the times I could see them always portrayed spite and rage. This time, they show complete good will and politeness.

  “I think we are still in better shape than if we never took a chance in finding the place. I do not know what will happen with what I have gotten ourselves into, but I will not let that concern me—as long as everyone here stays alive, and as long as you stay alive.” I try and delicately word my vulnerable thoughts further. “You know, yesterday, when Ashton and I went to explore the wilderness, I left the rest of you together because I wanted to let you all have a way out, if you so chose to go on your own.”

  She pieces a small smile, which I have not seen her give to me at all.

  She didn't say she would've taken that opportunity. It could mean that she wasn't tempted to do so. Is she growing attached to us?

  A few minutes pass, and we get to the point where the undead had been shot—where they now lay lifeless on the ground. I go down on one knee and reach at the head. Lissie notices, and asks what I'm doing.

  I turn the head to see it blown on the opposite side of where the bullet first inserted itself.

  I don't see the bullet, but no doubt this came from a powerful long-distance weapon—a sniper rifle, indefinitely.

  A few of the wandering undead we saw before were killed by Will, but not all of them. I pull out my sw
ord and begin cleansing the area of the remaining ones on mine and Lissie's trajectory of direction. The stabs to their heads are swift. “Did you train as a ninja or something?” Lissie kids to me.

  I have come to believe when she teases, it is a sign she does not hold ill-thoughts towards the one she is speaking with. It's when she sounds blank in her voice that she is the most unsettling to me.

  “No,” I say, chuckling, “though I did take up working my way around handling a sword. I organically learned my methods, just through picking up a broomstick and playing around with it.”

  “Well, don't tell any of our enemies that. They'll never take you seriously if they hear what you just said.” She jokingly comments with a smirk on her face, before continuing down the trail.

  I return my sword to its sheath, and catch up with the others. We end up back at the entrance of the trail, with the wheat field as a landmark of reaching back to familiar territory. At this point, Will is already halfway across the length of the fence. I jog my way to him, growing my words ever louder. “Will! Keep close!” I say out.

  He doesn't seem to recognize, or care, what I just said, and continues as he was—only this time he purposefully runs faster from me. Janice and Ashton stop keeping to themselves, once the rest of them catch up with me. “Gary, should I go talk to him?” Janice asks me.

  “I do not think any of us can help Will right now. I'm sure he feels the most betrayed and disgusted by what he never knew about Harold, and might be asking himself why he stuck with him for as long as he did.”

  Ashton chimes in, staid with his words, “I wouldn't blame him. To be honest, it seems the signs were all there. Harold was always pushing we continue traveling, but I just thought he wanted to have people not be able to trace us. Now we know.”

  “We know a lot more than we did just yesterday. What is important to our welfare now is more with learning to embrace the curve balls from here on out.” I say, regaining our group's combined positivity.