The Risen (Book 4): Courage

by Marie F. Crow

  “We have to get upstairs.” I say to him as weak as a child in the dark. The disappointment on his face is searing. I watch as he stretches his neck, turning his face away from me as he chews back the words with which he wants to lash out.

  “She’s right. We don’t know if any made it up there yet.” Marxx nods, but he sees through me. His eyes stare at me intently as he says, “We came across a few, but there should be more of them with the amount of damage Chapel was talking about.”

  “We found a crew in the library, but yeah, there should be more.” Rhett’s eyes have taken a far off glaze as he tries to figure out where else the Risen could be. He says, “We left a gun with Paula and had her lock the doors. She should be good.” Rhett shrugs, happy with his logic and ready to move on. Rhett’s mind has a five-minute cycle. He is already thinking about the next possible task; killing.

  “So what’s the plan?” Chapel’s voice is still deep from his pain. It tugs at my own and I swallow against the burning pressure.

  Marxx answers with his eyes still measuring me. He says, “Go upstairs. Check it out. We don’t let them know what we found down here. They have enough shit to work through.”

  “Yup.” Lawless says as he pushes through the little group we have formed. “We wouldn’t want to upset anyone.” His double-edged words are sharp and the slice they leave on my heart makes me wince. He doesn’t spare us a backwards glance to see if we are following him and he doesn’t care if we do or if we don’t. Lawless has started the climb to the leadership of their crew. In their world, a strong leader doesn’t hold your hand, he takes you by the throat and holds you in your place. That grasp reminds you of whom you respect not how to gain respect. I should be walking by his side, but he has left me behind with the guys as well. His grasp isn’t around my neck. It’s a much stronger hold. He has my heart, but it still leaves me choking just the same.

  Chapel, the one of us who has adjusted the best to change, falls in behind him first. Marxx follows next leaving only Rhett and I to silently choose our path. Our faces both hold a look of concern, but his is a different set of eyes that watches. Feeling my stare, he slides those lethal eyes to me and lets me see a glimpse of his thoughts before he goes blank. Rhett will not bow down again. The man who monsters fear will not pay homage to their prince, and with J.D. gone, there might not be anyone who can keep our deadly master of games in line.

  CHAPTER 8

  The entrance to the hallway is the same as we had left it. The dead still stare out with their blank eyes and slack expressions. The Christmas tree’s limbs have started to sag with the layers of crimson pulling them down. The fresh pine scent is tainted with the metallic undertones from the blood that covers it.

  Do you know what day it is? Aimes’ voice whispers through my mind, rattling my breath.

  Rhett’s hand roams my lower back as he pushes me forward. His eyes are still the blank, dangerous warning, but his hand with its stroking thumb lends me the comfort I need. I focus on the small, warm pattern of his thumb along my spine. I let his constant, gentle push guide me forward with each forced step. I have walked through so many things I wish I could erase from my mind. I have endured what others may have given up over and it’s all wearing my heart raw and threadbare. A part of me craves the lost ability to submit and hide as I watched the days flow past with their constant pattern of predictability. I want to go back to that oblivious life. With as much as I want it, a part of me knows I can never be that girl again.

  I lift my head and push down all the doubts that nag me. I lock the doors to all the rooms in my mind that threaten to open with their fanged demons. I slow my heart to the pattern of our steps, refusing to let it carry me into a panic. I can’t go back so I might as well keep going forward. Even if forward is dark and frightening with its hidden agendas, I will meet it head on. Not because I want to, but because I have to. Rhett smiles as he feels my spine stiffen under his palm. We don’t acknowledge the intimate exchange out loud. We don’t even look to the other. We simply fall in step and follow the rest of the group into the sobbing and the fight we both know is waiting for us. His hand falls from me, but not before his fingertips press against the lowest section of my back. This he does acknowledge with a wink from his pale, angry eyes.

  The screams have drowned to the grief that only silence can accompany. All words have been used and have fallen short. Those who are embracing the ones who have lived in guilty gratitude and those who are lost in their memories of the ones they have lost divide the hallway. One common enemy unites them all - us.

  Those once grateful, perhaps even envious of our little family, no longer harbor any admiration for us. They pull each other closer as we pass as if we could spread some disease of misfortune. Perhaps we could with how everything has played out. Some do not even try to hide their belief in our faults.

  Marxx has to be restrained as one male spits at our feet as we pass. The man’s grief has encased him with rage. He stands over the body of a dead female. He has arranged her to look as if she is sleeping with closed eyes and palms pressed to the floor. She is a modern day Sleeping Beauty with her blonde hair fanned around her. In death, her skin tone still holds a pale ethereal entrancement and her lips cling to their pink tint even as it slowly fades. A simple kiss from a prince and it should spare this tragedy, but it won’t. None of us are spared - not this father and not his daughter.

  “You did this,” the man shouts over the arms pulling him from Marxx. He continues with his screaming, “You let him kill my daughter! We all saw how unstable he was. Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “We didn’t know,” Chapel lies. He lies with the bruising still on his face from his broken nose. He lies not with malice, but praying for mercy. Yearning for the punishment he feels he deserves, he has placed himself between Marxx and the man. Chapel will take the judgment. He craves it.

  The man sneers with his rage into the face of Chapel. He stands toe to toe with the taller man with his anger giving him courage and says, “Isn’t this what your type does? You kill, and prey on those you think weaker than you?”

  Rhett laughs a deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around Chapel’s shoulder. He blocks the view of Lawless pulling Marxx backwards from the grieving father and says with his warning smirk, “Yeah man, that’s what we do. We ride around town beefing with other MCs over territories, run drugs, all that crazy O.K. Coral shit just like whatever television show you’ve been watching.” Rhett leans dangerously close and whispers beside the man’s head, “It’s a good thing that’s all television bullshit because if you really thought we were like that, you’d know what I’d have to do to you now for spitting on a member of my club.”

  Rhett lets his words sink in as he pulls slowly away from the man to stare into his eyes. I watch as the emotions flicker across the man’s face. He wants to hold on to his rage. He wants to stand firm and brave thinking it will be an act of justice to take out his anger on us, but another emotion that is harder to fight against slows his breathing and pulls him a slight step backwards. Rhett smiles knowing he has the man now. I have learned from Rhett that you never back down to what you fear because once you have, you can never meet its eyes again and the man can’t. Rhett played a game of truth or dare and the man isn’t willing to call dare, but Rhett is.

  “Bury your daughter, man. Take care of your shit. I’m sorry for your loss, but if you ever pull something like that again….” Rhett lets the ending hang and the silence says more than any words he might have chosen.

  “I’m sorry.” Chapel’s voice holds the pain he is feeling and it connects with the man. It’s a verbal handshake of a greeting that no parent wants. With his voice, Chapel lets the other man know that he knows the man’s suffering as only a father can. It’s a balm to the man and he nods, but the anger is still a flicker of a candle’s flame in his eyes.

  Rhett pats Chapel’s chest to signal the show is over. When Marxx looks to the man, I know it’s not. It’s just stalled until ev
eryone can put the pieces of this day back together. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about it tomorrow. Right now, I just want the chance to clean up today, a shower, a few hours of sleep and Aimes’ smiling face again. Marxx told me once that it was from me she gained her strength. Standing here in the middle of a ring of hell, I’m not so sure he was right.

  Her one-liners would have diffused this situation before the threats could have been shared. She would have had us shaking our heads with her mangled logic and forgetting we are deep in the puddles of the blood that are drying into shameful stains. Stains that no matter what Chapel may have told the man are our fault. We knew this was going to happen. We underestimated J.D. and like so many others in his past it could cost us everything; our home, our new bonds, our security and our pixie – everything.

  At one time, I would have told Marxx to grow up and stormed past them all. I would have taken the lead and left them to stew in their injured male prides. I was not this girl hanging in the back, huddled waiting with choked breath, caged in fear over what they are going to do. That frustration is still with me. It’s stalking the walls of my mind like a large cat with the dark thoughts that it whispers to me. I could focus on it, pulling it forward to shield the truth of how I am feeling, but I’m tired of being the fighter. I want to be just a survivor for one day, but that’s not me. White flags are not my style even when they really should be.

  My deep inhaled breath twitches Lawless’ eyes to me as if he just remembered I was still here. It’s the ignition I needed. “You boys done measuring your dicks? I’d like to check on Simon.”

  It’s overly cruel for what has happened, I know, but it works. All eyes swing to me and I force my face to go blank. It deflates their puffed chests like an abused balloon. If I have learned anything from my time with G.R.I.T., it’s that men don’t respond well to subtle and we don’t have a lot of time to waste. They really aren’t amused by a lack of appreciation for their “manhood” either.

  “Unless you’re willing to hold the measuring stick, yeah, I’m good,” Rhett tells me with a new light to his eyes. His lips hold the trademark of trouble and when he looks to Lawless. I know it’s not me he is toying with.

  Lawless meets his stare and returns his own smirk with a head nod before saying, “Yeah, we all friends here.” Lawless pulls Marxx forward by the vest that unites them, never removing his stare from Rhett.

  The cat in my mind roars with annoyance. It pushes me forward, lending my legs the prowling walk of its nature. “One big happy family,” I say as I walk through the cluster of them. “Let’s go bury Daddy.”

  Their smiles melt. The corners of their mouths are pulled down, frowning over the momentarily forgotten event that has slipped from their minds. The clicking of my boots is the only sound in the hall now. I let it echo around me as I leave them behind.

  “Changed my mind.” I hear Rhett say behind me. “I’m afraid of what she might do with the measuring stick.”

  “That’s why we don’t give her a gun.” Marxx’ gruff voice is followed by their footsteps landing one more notch to my annoyance.

  A thousand responses are crawling along my tongue, but my bullshit meter is maxed already. He is right. If they had given me a gun when this all began, they would all probably have flesh wounds by now. Only flesh wounds, I promise. I bite back my bitterness and glance over my shoulder with a look that lets them know I heard them before heading towards the mourners with whom I am most concerned. I head towards the body of a man I called father as we leave a father behind.

  Simon has laid his daughter, Kira, beside the body of his wife. He sits between them both, holding their hands with his head bowed. Someone has placed a cloth over Shelia’s head. Her blood is a dark discoloration in the plaid-like patterns, but it shields Simon from having to stare at the ruins of his wife’s once-perfect face. Kira has no covering. There is nothing to shield us from the deformed, tiny skull that rests tilted from the damage it has received. Her youthful perfection, just like her precious life, was forever stolen from her. Simon doesn’t want this truth covered. He wants us all to see it, to really see it.

  Dolph and I stare at each other over Simon. I am trying to put the missing pieces of time together by reading his face, but he shows me nothing. Richard stands near him with sadness pulling his shoulders low. The way his body sags, he looks as if the emotion has a greater sense of gravity than the pull of the earth. How do you comfort your friend who has lost his whole family in a matter of hours? My head swings to look at Chapel before I can stop myself. A lot of people say they are in their own private ring of hell daily. With Chapel having to watch his own story unfold over and over again, I know he really is.

  I am aware the moment when Lawless and Rhett come into view for Dolph and Richard. I know because they no longer hold the posture of defeat. Their bodies rise as they inhale, pulling their heads and shoulders back. They come closer to Simon as if fearing what the other two males may say or do. When Simon notices their movement, he awakens from his grief-stricken trance and peers around with blinking eyes as if he had forgotten where he was. His mind was lost in the past to avoid traveling into the future. For him, it is now a future that will be always be shaded with the shadows of his past.

  “You’re still here?” Simon’s voice is flat and bare of any depths. It mirrors his face and eyes. “Figured you would have run off and left us to sort out the mess.”

  Dolph motions with a jab of his chin to where J.D. still lays in the pool of his blood. He looks directly to Lawless and asks, “Come to take out the trash?”

  I don’t know who moved to whom first because the explosion from Dolph’s words was instant. Chapel and I have to brace against the floor to keep the groups apart as Simon watches with his empty eyes.

  The shouting and accusations are disjointed and competing for damage as the two groups of men exchange them. Chapel and I shout amid the chaos, but it goes unheard. The tension that has been a stewing pot since the gym is finally boiling over having a real reason to fight.

  Dolph stands chest-to-chest with Lawless as they stare, daring the other to take the first swing. Marxx is blocking Richard from the two men in a reverse style as Rhett had before.

  Rhett blocked the man to settle down the fight, protecting Marxx. Marxx is blocking Richard to allow Lawless to fight. Marxx is protecting him, but for a different reason.

  “Did you do this on purpose?” Dolph asks Lawless, baiting him into action. “You slink away in the night with some bullshit story of a close call just to see how this would all play out? You get the girl and leadership in one moment of lying glory.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I did,” Lawless tells him, smirking into the sneering face of Dolph. Lawless steps into that small fraction of space Dolph left between them. They are not just face-to-face anymore but almost cheek-to-cheek. He lowers his voice and asks, “What’s the matter Dolph? You pissed because I’m back or are you pissed because I have her back?”

  Dolph lifts his head, struck by what Lawless has asked and looks to me before looking back to Lawless without realizing the action.

  “Yeah, I know,” Lawless says, leaning even closer to say into Dolph’s ear, “I haven’t got time to deal with you right now. So, you can either go back and stand in your corner and let us do the heavy lifting around here like you have been doing, or you can get your shit together and do something useful. I really don’t care which option you choose, just stay out of my way. We have enough people to bury today, but what’s a few more holes to dig if I have to.” Lawless shrugs with his last words, expressing just how little it would affect him.

  Marxx shoves Richard away and tells him, “That goes for you, too. I’ll put you two lovebirds in one hole that way you can be stuck up his ass for an eternity.”

  “Let them do what they have to do.” Simon’s voice cuts through the tension with its dull edge before Richard can respond. “We can’t do this on our own. There’s just too many. What do you suggest?” Simon looks to Chapel
for advice and it angers both Dolph and Richard, but they say nothing.

  “We got those things downstairs. We have these people upstairs. The ground is already freezing. We are going to have to burn them all,” Chapel says.

  Richard’s face and voice carry the shock he feels saying, “What do you mean “those things downstairs”?”

  “They found a way in.” Rhett is leaning against the wall watching the action like a sideshow of entertainment when he answers the question. All he needs is a snack to fully enjoy himself. “We killed them.”

  “Jesus…” it is a soft mutter from Richard as he shakes his head.

  Rhett chuckles and tells Richard, “Don’t worry, we got it. Heavy lifting, right?” Rhett quotes Lawless, stroking the fire again back to its flickering heat.

  “Enough, all of you!” I snap, verbally and mentally. “Let’s just get this done. Can you just for a few hours grow up, shut up, and man up so we can get this done?” My vision blurs behind the wall of tears that has formed. Hot and burning, they escape before I can blink them away. It’s just too much. All of it is just too much.

  Marxx comes to me, wrapping his arms around me, holding me. “Yeah, Hells, we can do that,” he whispers into my hair. Marxx stepped up to comfort me, removing the option for Lawless or Dolph. Even as he says they can, he just proved they never will.

  “We’ll take the things out of the courtyard. Your group can start taking these bodies down into the courtyard. It keeps the two separate and these people won’t have to see it.” Chapel offers the first real plan of action being just as weary as I am.

  “…and J.D.?” Richard asks.

  “We got him.” Lawless’ says with a voice that dares the other man to say more.