“April?” I call to her, carefully placing my feet around the burnt bodies to reach her circle. “April, it’s not safe here. We have to go, now.” She still doesn’t acknowledge me. There is not even a twitch of her body to show me she is listening. The way she sits limply by a body speaks to me. I take a different approach. “Did you know them?” I ask her kneeling down beside her and watch silently for her to speak.
Her voice is cotton soft. It is weary and worn in a way no one of her age should possess. “My mommy,” April tells me and I watch as her fingers flex with the need to touch the ruin of a woman.
I’m scared to ask the next question with so many piles around us, but I do. “Where is your dad?”
I watch as she finally lifts her head and points to a pile beside this one. There is something different about his pile but I don’t stare long enough to make any connection. “He couldn’t do it,” she says.
“Do what?”
“Be saved,” she says this as if I should understand. She tells me something that to her is a simple fact, but to me it is more of a question.
“Saved from what?” I ask her, trying to grasp some understanding of what is around me.
April looks at me, cocking her head, trying to gauge how serious I am in my misunderstanding of her answer. Before she can answer me, Rhett is here scooping her up like a doll. Her eyes never leave me though as she still tries to answer her question in her mind. She doesn’t flinch in Rhett’s arms or try to escape from him. She is a child who is used to being carried by many arms. The way her brown eyes stare at me, she is use to keeping many secrets, too. Brown eyes, not blue, and my soul aches in a different way.
I watch Rhett walk away with April’s eyes studying the remains of the swaying children. She looks to each pair of dangling feet as Ashley looked to the fallen in the gym. In her mind she is placing a name to each of her former friends. Names that have already been forgotten by the ones who did this, whereas for April they will remain with her forever, like stains on what was once a perfect childhood; like the red stains on once-perfect white clothes.
CHAPTER 19
“Where the hell have you three been?” Dolph’s accent is heavy with his anger. Marxx is obviously not the only tracker in our happy little homestead. Dolph was waiting for us in the woods we once thought of as thick and encompassing. It was just another illusion we allowed ourselves to be lured into.
“Happy to see you, too,” Rhett tells the man as he passes Dolph. The sight of Rhett holding April must be as unnerving as I imagined with how Dolph watches the pair. “Guess the math skills weren’t important growing up?” Rhett asks as they pass him.
Dolph smirks at the attempt of an insult. He says to Rhett, “Sorry, man. I was just counting the ones that matter.” Dolph waits half-tensed for the inevitable return from Rhett for his insult. All he receives is a smile.
“What was all that about?” I ask, being the only one confused by the exchange. Dolph has never been a fan of the men of the MC, but he has never so bluntly dared one without provocation.
“You’ve missed a lot,” Marxx mutters. He seems to be unsure of which side of the little tit-for-tat he should stand.
“Your two other boys are tearing the place apart looking for you.” Dolph ignores my real question and launches into a different explanation. “Law seems to think that since this one here was missing, along with the other guy, something went down and took you and Aimes with it. He’s even got that preacher guy worked up.”
“Chapel?” Aimes’ famous eyebrow is arched again as she helps Dolph out with names he is either omitting or forgetting.
Dolph shakes his head for a moment in a short, controlled act. “Nah. The other one.”
“Travis?” Aimes offers again.
“Yeah, that one.” Dolph swings the rifle he held close to his leg back onto his back. I hadn’t even noticed the gun, but Rhett had. He had purposely cut ahead of me so he could pass Dolph on the side of the gun. With the two being so close, Rhett would have had time to disarm the long barreled weapon if the need would arise. I don’t know if I am grateful or alarmed by Rhett’s ability to spot such things.
“Let’s get this over with.” Marxx begins to walk towards the high school. He is no longer huddling against the cold wind and floating ice crystals. He has pulled himself tall for the fight he knows awaits us.
His shoulders will bear most of the anger from Lawless who has begun to see everything as a personal insult. Even to offer the truth that it was my fault he found us outside the walls, that it was my fault we went after April, the blame would still be Marxx’ to hold. Chapel, I’m sure, has done his best to diffuse the mounting anger Law has used to cover his fears. There is only so much that can be done though when a man has become as consumed as Law has with his emotions.
“Let the good times roll!” Aimes mockingly replies as we begin to file in behind Marxx.
It always amuses me how the men will naturally pick one to take the lead while one will always volunteer to follow last. Like some sandwich of protection, Aimes and I often find ourselves in the middle of this pattern like we are now. It’s amusing because when trouble does arrive, I’m often one of the first to rush in. Only later do I find myself thinking just how once I’d like to be on the sidelines.
It’s amazing how we only stop to think about how stupid our choices were when we are neck deep in them, or worse, as we sit and think about them. People wear rubber bands to snap themselves with to break bad habits. I wonder if there is a band big enough for all of my habits.
We hear Lawless before we enter the courtyard. His voice is raised and heated in conversation with someone. The high walls keep the words being exchanged private, but the volume is enough to give an idea of what is being exchanged. Especially since most of it seems to be one syllable at that and “you”s. I think I hear a lot of “you”s.
“Anyone else thinking that perhaps we should have beat Rhett back?” Aimes asks, catching on the stream of conversation faster than the rest of us.
“Shit,” Marxx swears under his breath with the thought of what must be happening. “I do, now.”
The four of us stand transfixed by the two voices rising over the grey, thick walls. The wooden doors of the entrance loom tall, being the final barrier between another battle of the civil war happening on the other side and us. Slavery isn’t the poster for this war, but freedom is still the undercurrent for the reason and a president has already been shot enflaming the battle further.
“Paper, rock, scissors?” I offer since no one has volunteered to be the first casualty.
Dolph leans against one of the walls, crossing his arms still listening to the exchange. “I say we let them have a little longer,” he says with complete seriousness.
“Yes, let’s just let Simon clean up the mess again while we all stand back. You and Richard seem to do that well.” My words pull him off the wall with a power I hadn’t meant for them to have. I wanted to sting, not bite him. Being the coward that I am when it comes to admitting I’m in the wrong, I walk into the courtyard to avoid his stare. Any wound Lawless and Rhett offer me is better than standing here and looking at the wound I have placed on Dolph.
Aimes is quick to follow me in and what she whispers reminds me of just how horrible of a person I am. “You do remember Richard is dead, right? When you were attacked in the shower, turns out that wasn’t the only loner left standing,” she tells me.
I can feel my stomach drop so fast I am afraid for a moment I may trip over it. No, I hadn’t remembered. I didn’t just bite. I may as well have amputated a limb with the misjudgment I have made. Let the good times roll, Aimes had said. No one throws a good time quite like I do.
The creaking of the wooden doors with their opening was like a signal for a play to start and we just walked onto the stage. The shouting and its muffled counterparts become a vacuum of silence. Lawless is standing across from Rhett with a semi-circle of the “town’s folk” surrounding them. The nervou
sness on their faces shows how ugly their fight was becoming. Now that we have entered, all of those faces are turned to us. If their stares had weight, I would lie broken under so many eyes.
Chapel and Paula stand across from one another with their own line drawn. Their line doesn’t cause them anger. Their sadness is plain to see with how lost they are in this war. Either would gladly step across the line if the other would ask them to. With so much outside willing to destroy us, here we stand inside doing it ourselves.
“Sup?” Aimes asks being the first one to break the tension.
“Sup?” Lawless asks her, mocking her very question. I’m starting to think she should have chosen a better entrance. “What’s up?” he asks again hovering between rage and disbelief. Now I know she should have picked a better one. “Why don’t you tell me, “what’s up”?” he asks her and I can hear her answers choking her as I look in his eyes.
“We went and had tea with J.D.,” I start with my plans fully aimed at being a bigger ass than Lawless is being. Aimes picks up the path of my plotting and eagerly joins in.
“…then we went through the woods to grandmom’s house.”
“…where we crashed a birthday party.”
“…killed a little girl for good measure to be sure we aren’t ever invited back.”
“…went and saw a tree decorating event.”
“…rescued a little girl to even out the karma for the dead one.”
“…and then followed the breadcrumbs back home.”
“I don’t know who keeps requesting there be more zombie action in our lives, but I could really use a nap.” Aimes finishes the volley with a head cock and a forced pout.
“Cute.” Marxx’ disapproval is not only with what we have said but also with how we are handling the bomb of a man by dancing on his tripwires. Well, I’m dancing. I think Aimes is just jumping in place on them.
Law’s eyes are bouncing from Marxx to Aimes and myself as he tries to pick the one to yell at first. With each person he sees, his hand clenches into fists before relaxing again to repeat the process. At least his anger is showing. If he was holding himself to the mask of disinterest, I might be more worried. This I can handle. I have become a pro at cleaning and handling the toxic mess from the explosions of their male egos and the way they leak all over everything they touch.
Rhett has not turned to completely face our little grand entrance. He keeps a side view of Law as he studies the man’s face. Whatever Rhett is seeing there softens the hard lines of his mouth and relaxes his posture. “Nothing was going to happen to them. We wouldn’t have let.” All the anger from whatever was said is gone from Rhett’s voice. He sounds tired, deflated and almost sympathetic. His tone brings down the wall of aggression between the two men, but for Selma, it does the opposite.
“How do you know?” Selma asks Rhett. She isn’t really concerned with Aimes and myself. She is more concerned with keeping the male animosity thriving. “You could have been injured, or worse, and no one would have known where to find you. The woods are a dark and evil place. We’ve talked about how they should be avoided at all costs. The risk is just too high.”
“Good thing we didn’t think so since you allowed April to go play in them,” I say to her and I can watch her response filter through the many levels of schemes she is building. What she really wants to say to me, she can’t. It would ruin her perfect, shinning example of holy righteousness. Not many people can pull off a “screw you” and a “praise the Lord” at the same time. I don’t think she is one of those few.
“Yes, a tragic mistake that will be taken into hand. It’s a good thing you and yours continue to be so reckless with our safety so she could be retuned home to us. Thank’s be to our Lord,” Travis says wearing his best smile. Now, he is one of the few.
“Can I be taken into hand, too?” Aimes asks with the excitement of a child on their birthday. “It’s been so long since I have been taken into hand. A good strong hand, or a soft, firm hand? How about a good tickling hand?” Aimes continues to rattle off the many types of “hands” she would prefer to be “taken” by as she makes her way through the courtyard with the same excited voice at every idea that comes to her.
Her patience has worn thinner than mine, but she is better at her word play. The audience smirks and tries to hide their laughter as she walks by them to the stairs. By the time I have followed her in, she has gone more than just the fifty shades with her thinking.
“Cute.” I mock Marxx, but Aimes’ strategy has worked. With the situation so destroyed to hold any anger now, the groups separate into their respected corners like the sea rolling back out; all but one, anyway.
Rhett stands alone in the spot Lawless left him, his head lowers until it is bowed with each step Law and Marxx take away from him. Chapel only lingers for a moment inbetween the space that has occurred. I’m not sure if he is waiting for Rhett or for Paula, but when neither turn to him, he follows our path inside. He follows us now for the same reason he followed us then. He doesn’t do it because he wants to, not really. He does it because this is “home”. As dysfunctional and mind battering as it is, this is “home”.
“We should go to him.” I’m watching the man who was once our enforcer, our nightmare, stand alone and fragile with so many staring at him. Selma stands a few feet from him with the same uncertainty that I am feeling.
“We should what?” Lawless asks but I know he heard me. He’s just daring me to say it again.
“We should go to him,” I say it again. I do so love to dance.
Aimes has never stopped walking in her rambling path to the stairs. She calls back without even looking at me, “He made his bed, Hells. If he wants to change the sheets, he has to do it himself.”
“Exactly.” Law agrees with her. He passes me so closely that he has to walk sideways. We exchange looks before he moves passed and I know that he is waiting for us to reach our little second floor loft before exploding again.
“Anything you do now, will just set it all backwards.” Marxx has wrapped his arms around me and is whispering in my ear as he pushes us forward with his body. “Those two have to work this out, themselves. You can’t fix this one.”
“But –” I start before he cuts my sentence short.
“Leave it alone.” He slides to the side of me so he can look into my eyes. His voice is so low the bass of it vibrates me. “Why not, just for once, try fixing your own messes. You might be surprised at how much will fall into place once you do.”
He leaves me with that gut-punch of a thought. My head still swivels to where Rhett is standing behind the safety-glassed windows on his own accord. I really do have a problem of standing up to my own mistakes. Muddling with others problems is so much easier than having to face your private demons. Especially when your demons don’t wear horns or sharp teeth, but the faces of the ones you have failed.
Aimes is waiting at the heavy, metal doors for us. Lawless enters the stairwell first and she follows him with me right behind her. The “sandwich of protection” forms again. Let the good times roll.
CHAPTER 20
“What were you thinking?” Lawless has either completely spent his anger on Marxx or he is keeping it hidden well as he asks me the first question that comes to his mind. I’m not sure which I hope for.
He and Marxx had walked away from us when we arrived at our private floor. Whatever was said between them was kept tight and refined leaving us with no real sense of the conversation. It had ended abruptly when Lawless had walked away and still Marxx kept his face blank. Law had pointed at me and then into the room we share, summoning me without a word spoken. My pride had first refused to answer, and if the truth were to be shared, I would still be sitting out in the makeshift loft if it were not for Chapel’s gentle nod encouraging me to come here. In my mind I didn’t obey Lawless, I answered Chapel’s request. See how much better that sounds?
“…about the little girl.” I shrug as much as the hug I am forcing on mys
elf permits. My hands slide along my arms to hide my nervousness with the impression of being chilled. Without the winter coat, for some reason I feel vulnerable. “I was thinking about that little girl out there alone.”
“We don’t even know her.” Lawless is trying to understand my reasons instead of shouting. I have to give him credit for that small step. I just don’t know how to help him understand them.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes. Yes, it matters.”
“Why? Why is her life less important because we don’t know her?”
I watch as he searches for the right words. His eyes betray his thoughts by swaying back-and-forth. He is weighing his answer with hopes of controlling the conversation.
“It just isn’t,” Lawless says, forgiving his lack of an explanation with blunt honesty. “You, Aimes, Marxx, Chapel – those are the ones who matter now. We keep taking these risks for people who wouldn’t do the same for us like we owe it to them, but we don’t. We don’t!” He begins to pace in front of me with the attempt to control the rising flood of his emotions.
“And Rhett? Does he still matter?” My question halts the pacing, but he still isn’t looking at me.
His head shakes slowly and he half laughs before saying to me, “You just won’t let it go.”
“You’re not the only one who lost J.D.” I know I am traveling through a dangerous landscape. Like hidden quicksand, I could sink neck deep before even realizing what I have stepped on. “Rhett buried him that day, too. We all did.” My courage falters with the truth of it pulling my voice this deep into private thoughts. This was meant to be a speech to reach through his walls, not mine.
“I was the one who pulled the trigger. I’m the one who has to put us back together.” His head is lowered under the weight of his self-enforced shame. His voice comes slowly as if the words are too heavy to form. “You’ve almost died twice. We almost lost Aimes, too. Marxx was going down right along with you. I’ve almost killed over half of us, Helena, with the plans I have made. I’ve helped turn our home against us. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I just keep thinking that if he was here, it would all be different.”
The Risen (Book 4): Courage Page 16