Still Myself, Still Surviving: Part II: The Realization

by Marlin Grail

  To my surprise, what comes next from this man is a response I didn’t count on.

  The confrontation that he showed with his rod is like it never happened. He kneels down before C., like that of a knight to his glorious and perfect ruler. The followers of this head then do the same—hierarchy being recognized by all of them now.

  C.’s never had us do this before. That’s not to say this won’t encourage him to make such action be required from here on out.

  C. then signals us all to come out, pointing specifically towards our truck. As the man rises from his kneeled position, he stutters on his multiple running thoughts.

  “W-what’s going on? I-is there trouble? D-did we do something—”

  A quick hand to his mouth is all he receives from C. “Relax. Answers will come later. In the meantime, we have someone that was fortunate to be found by us.

  I take that as our cue, and nod for us to leave our seats. The numerous eyes of these nerve-wracked people stare at our movements. I’m certain this is where the boy must find his people for himself.

  He slides out from Will’s door. I give him our group’s soothing release of custody. “You really have brought immeasurable help for us all,” I warmly tell Alex, letting the rest of our vocal departure be left mostly up to Will.

  It’s safe to say Will has the most attachment to Alex. Will has shown he can be many things, all of which are excellent for an adult of today’s standards. But, today Will has proven to me his adaptability in knowing the importance of letting yourself unwind from those living and breathing tough ways.

  “Well, survivor, I’m sure you’ve worried your people long enough,” Will states nobly, but there’s a slight sadness hidden under it.

  The two of them proceed to hug in a way that will forever link them to know and trust each other. Even if Alex grows up and Will is elderly, I wouldn’t be surprised if their friendship would continue right where it left off.

  My focus then jumps from this pleasant scenario to a new, concerning matter. Lissie jumps out. I wonder how she’s going to be.

  If those new people she and Ashton were riding with kept up the same friction like the last two, then that matter I’m concerned about will finally get my fullest attention.

  It’s as if I forget we’re out in the open, because I immediately take hold of her. “Are you okay?”

  She then takes a look over her shoulder at the two men they sat with. In an intentionally quiet voice, she asks, “If I wasn’t…would you kick their asses for me?”

  I smirk when she bites her lower lip. Her simper makes me feel we’d be unstoppable against those people. My peripheral vision takes me back to a self-controlled state—no matter how intimate I feel towards her at this point—because a few of this fort’s people are intrigued by how we look.

  We back our distance from one another, and cough in embarrassment, even if we know there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

  Ashton taps the back of my shoulder. “C. wants you.”

  C. backs up that request by curling his finger at me.

  I tell our group to stay close to the truck and keep it that way, until I know we’re invited by these people onto their land. C., with his customary big smile, eagerly has his arm ready to wrap around my shoulders.

  “See this man here? His group were the ones who originally found the boy. They brought it up to me, and I felt it was better than anything to get him back to you.”

  I’m not overly shocked, or agitated, that C. would play it off as though he always had Fort Washakie on his mind.

  I receive a hand by the head of these people. “I’m Chief of the land here. Some of us come from my old tribe that used to live on the reservation around us. It’s much smaller now, as you can tell by the fence, but we’ve grown proud of ourselves and our skills—courtesy of encouragement of C.”

  I appreciate his introduction, and I pay utmost respect to him by energetically shaking his hand. “I know we’ve never met beforehand, but I’m glad we are the best of allies—courtesy of C.”

  The sky’s heat hits down on us, but I can forgive it as I look up. I feel the pureness seam together like a representation of these people’s identities. The skies have some of the bluest color I’ve seen in a long time, without streaks of dirtiness above, or any hazes.

  Any undead that have come their way around is not of a major concern, as our numbers are higher now, especially because C.’s made sure we’re all seen as worthy to move within the fence.

  “Please, C., get you and your people in. Move over by where the sign says the ‘Wind River Agency’.”

  By that permission, I get our group inside the truck. However, a few things block us from immediately moving.

  First, the cars in front of us aren’t quick to realize that is to be our people’s next course of action. Those drivers have exited their vehicles and are greeting a few of this setup’s people.

  Second, that man who remains to have his shades on has crawled onto our truck’s bed, and is snooping around it.

  Chapter XXI

  Don’t provoke me. We’re not required to be as cooperative at this point.

  “What is this?” he asks loudly before picking up his point of interest.

  My sword.

  He makes me cringe as he disrespectfully takes it out of its sheath. His movements mimic poking something, or someone, with it. It’s then I realize he’ll only respond to me when I have a much firmer attitude.

  “Hey!” I bark out, harsher than I thought I would.

  I will say he’s caused me to have little comfort about him being anywhere in my sight. I’ve already begun to wonder how much more it’s affected Lissie and Ashton.

  “You will return that sword to me in its sheath.” I’m subtle with curling my fists.

  He offers a jagged grin on one side of his mouth. “This wouldn’t be as helpful in a gun fight, you know.”

  My adrenaline makes me commit to a choice I didn’t think I’d be put in by one of our own, but I must follow it for the sake of my group.

  I snatch my gun from my waistband. “You will do it. You seem to have too much time on your hands to focus on my people. Where are yours at this moment?” My tone becomes very impatient, and much more aggressive.

  I’ve been learning to be brusque when it calls for it. It’s not being my best self, but I bear that in mind so I don’t lose who I truly am. I may be labeled a good person, or a bad person. What I know is that I am Gary. I do and say what is best for those I protect.

  He snarls, and hops down from the bed—my sword still in hand.

  I hear C. already roaring at the both of us from where he’s at. “Release my sword. I won’t ask again.” I cock my gun when he takes a step towards me.

  Suddenly, I hear movement from a fast-paced person behind me.

  I accept to feel C.’s familiar palm. That’s why I blink in surprise when the hand is different. It’s less firm, and less callous to the reason that my outburst is noticed by all the surrounding people.

  “This man said to let his weapon go.” It’s the Chief who says this.

  As I look over at him, his face doesn’t have anger, nor happiness. It captures attention though. I hear the clang of my sword impact the ground as the man carelessly lets it fall from his grip.

  “Whatever. It’s probably useless against anything.”

  C. delves into this tense situation. He goes straight for the person the Chief and I subdued. “You are out of line.” C. visibly intimidates him. “Bow to me if you want my forgiveness.”

  The man strips himself of all swagger, literally removing his bandana and shades, and then falling to his knees. C. lectures how his tone should sound. It makes him appear incompetent to C., and anyone else around. “Now, GO to your people. If you cause any disturbance that’s not classified effective, then know you’re going to have a serious problem.”

  The man’s head remains hanging low, even after C. moves back to his motorcycle. The chatter rises back,
less weighted in discomfort. The Chief then guides his people to return within the fence.

  I go and pick up my sword, having to close the distance between me and this man. He’s still on his knees like a praying statue.

  It could be thought I put him in trouble. If it wasn’t me who quashed his behavior, it would’ve been someone else—perhaps less tolerant than I am.

  I reach down to pick it up, and no sudden movement comes from him—that is true—until I go to pull back.

  He cuffs my wrist with a quick hand. “Rockstar Gary. Listen, I won’t bother you anymore, but at least let that girl know I’m interested. Deal?”

  His whispering words are still as loud and rude as his natural yelling voice is.

  He’s referring to Lissie. Of course it triggers me to want to clear up any confusion we share to others, but I still need to remain subtle about it.

  I use my simple trick I have to break free from a wrist lock.

  “That won’t happen, and keep your eyes from trying to do anything about it. Sorry to disappoint, but I can tell you she’s definitely not interested in any of that romance.”

  I return my sword to its proper sheathed state, then return to the truck, glad to see the rest of the vehicles driving ahead.

  “He’s such a prick,” Ashton declares. It’s an insightful response considering my deep breathing.

  I look to my side-view mirror, pleased to find he makes no attempt to follow us, but instead wanders to where his people stick out among the natives of this setup.

  At this point, everybody collectively enters through the open gates of the fence. Our vehicles drive at neutral speed to ensure we continue to give off the sign of peace, especially once the Wind River Agency building has its front doors open to the sight of even more people. Our vehicles gather in the front of the building’s parking lot.

  I didn’t realize how special it would feel to park between two white lines. I won’t deny it has its own power to be symbolic of the peace I feel at this place.

  With my driver side window still rolled down, we can all hear the synchronized clapping of those on the building’s walkway commence. The Chief, after calmly making his way to the center platform on the front’s stairway, raises both hands to his side, as his own symbolic hug. “All of you, welcome!”

  Chapter XXII

  Will stretches his arm in between me and Janice, pointing with excitement. “I think I see him!”

  Alex appears to be in the loving proximity of two people, which I presume to be his parents. Before we get out to greet them all, I praise him for the dedication he put in. “You did great, Will. You’ve shown you could be a leader.”

  When all of us exchange a warm feeling about it, I push beyond that feeling when I mention the final detail I think will show him how rewarding that kind of dedication can feel.

  “Actually, Will, I think this gives me my decision proof that you will make an excellent second-in-command.”

  His ordinary expression becomes serious, but it picks back up to his typical way of making his feelings delightful. “Well, ‘bout damn time. It’s not that you’ll need me to be flexing it though.”

  I smile, which he apparently appreciates I found the humor in his response. We all then make our way to the front of our truck’s hood. Finally, I get a glimpse of who’s been with us this whole travel. To my right, a familiar face has already spotted me.

  “Trey?” I ask in surprise.

  He makes a brief turn toward me. “What’s going good? Hey, thanks for spending time with your fan.”

  This was the friend of the person who handed me a shovel for my first body burial. I finally got to meet up with him not too long after learning about C’s secret firsthand.

  He was a kind fellow. I wish I wasn’t hung up on other things at the time—like C.’s immunity and control over hazes. I kept jumping from topic to topic so I wouldn’t accidentally spring up on him what he, and most of everyone here, don’t know about.

  As I look at Trey’s people, I don’t see the “fan”. Even though I’d been distracted when we met, we’d gotten along well. I would’ve been surprised he wouldn’t have sparked a conversation before Trey.

  But he isn’t here.

  I see there are only a handful of faces I recall from the first time Ashton and I were found by Trey and his group. Seeing the look on my face, Trey responds to my unspoken question.

  “Some didn’t want to come on this with us. We already said our goodbyes. Besides, they’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”

  Right. Our forces back there should be able to counteract the aggressors heading towards them as we speak.

  After our fast conversation, we focus back to what C.’s mentioning to the Chief that isn’t just small talk.

  It does make me wonder if we’re on a schedule like the battalion might be. As I recall, C. didn’t have this stop on his radar. Should I be the one to cut to the chase on why else we came? Would that be disrespectful to these people?

  C. goes on about why he’s been absent from them, and why he left his stronghold at Cheyenne. “So, as you can tell, Chief, I was keeping you all in the dark for your benefit. Understand, they don’t know about your setup here, even though they’ll be heading right through Riverton, not even 30 minutes away from here.”

  Interesting. How would he know where they were coming from? Maybe he has scouts around. It sounds like the enemy would want to mimic his tactics. That would explain why he worried about enemy eavesdropping happening in Dubois.

  The Chief nods with every word. “I’m sorry that’s what’s happening to you, C. We know you have things, people, to preserve and look after, so it made me worry to see you with all your people here.”

  C. closes his eyes as he holds his hand up to stop the Chief from talking further. “Oh, they aren’t all my people. But, yeah. Now, there are still dispatches in Cheyenne, and they guard our territory to this very second. They need help though, and I’m putting together a force to aid them.”

  Someone from the crowed front then breaks into C. and the Chief’s conversation. “What can we do to help aid you?”

  C. stutters, but he looks past me with an expression of pleasure. I see his loss for words become visual, when he bends his forearms to his biceps, creating fists of spirit, then exclaims a whoop with his clenched teeth.

  “You really are my people!”

  I seize the chance to keep the momentum of our purpose staying afloat. “We’ll need fuel, and potentially more people for the mission.”

  The Chief, misunderstanding my intent, raises his hand. “We are not looking for fight! We’ll help for the fuel, but we don’t want any part of it!”

  C. comes quickly with “And you won’t! Don’t worry, you won’t!”

  I won’t argue with them about it. Because they’ve been unknown by us, and by the enemy, these people can opt out if they want. On the other hand, I would’ve suspected anyone with C. would be expected to partake in this war, since this is an obligation for everyone in our setup.

  The Chief’s voice levels back down to his mellow tone. “Very well. Come inside, C. We can discuss where your people will stay for the night.”

  C. then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t stay. We have to get back on the road.”

  The Chief becomes persistent. “Please, if you wish to let us round up your fuel, then give us peace of mind tonight that your spirits will relax and be fully rested for tomorrow.”

  The consideration isn’t immediately thrown out by C. I see him rub the back of his neck, then draw out a long note of uncertainty. “…Will it be okay with you all if we did stay for tonight?” he asks loudly.

  He’s reassured by several nods and voices that, in turn, makes him conclude his verdict. “Okay, then, our people will stay tonight!”

  Joyful sounds are then made by both people of our numbers and then theirs. The Chief guides C. to enter inside the building. As C. walks, he bobs his head back towards us.

  “Let yo
urselves make friends! Walk around, and make friends!” he says with delight.

  It is truly then that I can observe farther along this camp. I see several buildings nearby, and a community’s worth of houses. It is then, once C. and the Chief, followed by a few others, enter the inside of the building, that several of the crowd intentionally come over to our groups.

  Men, women, both young and old, let their natural cadence be like that of one who would speak to friends and family.

  It seems, before actually meeting us, we’re really all considered friends and family to them.

  Me and my group find we’re self-conscious to take any steps away from this bevy of people, because we don’t wish to seem disrespectful. As Lissie commits and tries to make her way to the side of our truck not blocked up by people, she is met by Alex and his parents. All of them have happy smiles and welcoming arms.

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” the man, who I presume to be Alex’s father, says to us. The woman, I imagine his mother, then chimes in, “We knew he’d find his way back!”

  Lissie is stumped by how to respond. Janice fills in for her. “Did you guys know he would be close to our area?

  “Well, of course! There’s someone we trust that said he’d inspect and keep us informed on our son’s progress!” the mother replies.

  Will brings up a curious thought. “Okay, but do they know now that Alex is back here?”

  The father returns with “He’ll come back shortly! He’ll find him here!”

  They seem like how a healthy pair of parents should be, so why would they have been okay with their son all alone as far as he was? And basing the location on someone else’s claims? I wonder if the other parents in our setup would’ve sent their child a distance as far as he was. Also an important note, who was moving back and forth from here and our setup?

  While juggling my own thoughts, I add to the conversation, “It’s overall a good thing your son’s returned. However, I do have to ask you this—did your people know C. was with our setup?”