by J. S. Carter
She hesitated and I could tell that she didn’t know either. “Amanda found you on the ground. I wasn’t sure what to give you or if anything would have even helped. Has this ever happened to you before?”
I slowly turned my head to gaze through the cracks of my fingers and watched Amanda stare back at me, wide eyed, holding onto a fistful of Martha’s shirt. It was the second time that the little girl had potentially saved my life. Either that, or she was incredibly detrimental to my state of well-being.
“No.” I took a shaky breath and let it go into the palm of my hands. If someone had asked, I could have said that I had just used them to kill people in ways that I had never thought possible. “No, that’s never happened before.”
“I thought maybe you might have tripped in the dark and hit your head...”
She reached up and I pushed her hand away from my hair and stared into her worried face, the familiar lines tracing themselves around her eyes and back up onto the bridge of her forehead.
Wasn’t it still morning?
I stumbled up and shoved my head through the flap of Martha’s tent to see the purple sky following a sun that had just crested below the horizon, but that didn’t make any sense. The things I saw, the things I felt only lasted a few minutes at best.
I turned back and meant to ask where Jeremy and the others were, but I already knew. His group should have been miles away from the camp by now. I felt a sharp pang of jealousy shoot up through my chest and I pictured them settling down for the night as free men, laughing and hitting each other in good spirits. At least someone had made it.
“I think you dropped this...”
I peered down to see Amanda step away from Martha and hold her hand up. Just on top, resting peaceful and inanimately, the familiar heart-shaped necklace caught light from a gap over my shoulder. It beckoned for my touch, but I was too afraid. I was scared of what would happen if it took control again.
I kept my distance. If Ryan or any of the others had seen what had happened to me...
No.
I couldn't afford to think like that. I was still alive. If I spent every waking moment second guessing myself, then there would be no point in keeping it that way. But it would be too risky to keep the necklace on hand in case I accidentally touched it. I needed more time to figure out where it had come from and how it worked. I needed to find out what had happened.
I closed Amanda's hand, careful not to touch what was inside. “Keep it. Keep it safe for me, okay?”
She peered down, confused for a moment, then stuck the necklace to her chest. A high honor, no doubt. “Okay.”
Martha didn't care either way. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Fuck no.
I nodded. “I just need some water.” I walked out before she had a chance to argue. The truth was I had absolutely no clue if I was okay. I’d never experienced a dream before where I could tell what other people were thinking. I’d never felt someone else’s pain outside of my own body. It was the only way I could describe it, but even those words were wrong. It couldn't have been just a dream. It couldn't have.
I got back to my tent by the time night rolled in. I had to step over the open M.R.E.s and water bottles that were left from earlier before I could get to my cot. I figured the trash that was left behind was proof that I at least had not been delusional all day long, though now it was also a subtle reminder that I was alone and the room suddenly seemed empty. It made me wonder when the next best chance would come around for me to escape, if any at all.
I took a seat. By myself, the images still fresh in my mind began to take over. In my dream, in my new memories, I had killed both effortlessly and definitively. There had been no hesitation, no restraint, only complete and utter ruthlessness without a single touch and input of my own accord, yet one facet continued to stick out among the rest. I had not been alone. I had not been the one to kill. I knew it as intrinsically as the breath in my lungs kept me alive. I had watched someone else do it. I had felt her do it.
Who would ever believe that?
I gave up, frustrated, and had to readjust my seat. Something was poking me in the butt. I reached into my back pocket and was stupefied to see a small silver lighter in the palm of my hand, until I recognized it as Murphy’s. I remembered Nick had taken it. He must have dropped it on me in Ryan’s tent and just felt me up for good measure. I stared at its smooth, metallic casing. It was my next best chance to make it out. But without the others, I needed to come up with a different plan. A simple distraction wouldn't work anymore.
Hey, look at this cool, dangerous fire, not the crazy girl that's about to get raped.
Did I mention she's crazy?
At the very least, I would have to demote that one to Plan B.
The sound of gunfire brought me back. I shook at the sudden percussion that cut through the camp and nearly fell off my cot. I held my breath, nervous that I would miss whatever would come next, unsure if I had just made it up entirely. Then it started up again, this time livid in bursts that seemed much closer, as if they came from just outside the surrounding fence.
I jumped up. I could hear men starting to yell at each other across the entire camp. The walls around me were completely made of soft cloth. They held none of the sound back. So what would bullets do?
I ran to leave just as one of Ryan's men walked in through the entrance with a rifle in one hand and a nearly empty bottle in the other. He looked like he had crawled through miles of dirt just to get to me, but I didn’t recognize him. Not until I noticed his bandaged hand.
“Jessssica...” He lifted the bottle at me and smiled, the stench of alcohol falling off of him like a waterfall.
I had barely opened my mouth before the shooting in the camp started to thicken. I flinched and automatically lowered my head. Ryan's men must have started returning fire at whatever was attacking them. It all seemed to be getting closer and I couldn't see anything. I needed to get away
“Hey,” I pointed a shaky hand. “W-we have to—”
“DON'T LIE!” The man took a step closer and I took two back. He lifted his bottle again, almost as a cautionary gesture, and his demeanor changed in an instant. “It’s okay, it's okay. The cute ones always lie.”
What?
Nothing he said, looked, or smelled like neared anything I thought of as okay.
He took another step and knocked my trash over. “You by yourself, Jesssica?” He cut me off again before I could answer. “I’ll keep you company. People like uss, we gotta ssstick together.”
I couldn't believe how lost he was. Could he even hear what was going on outside or was he so far gone that he didn't care anymore?
“HEY.” I waved a hand in front of his face, completely expecting the soft walls around us to explode at any moment in intrepid anticipation. “WE have to GO. BEFORE we get SHOT.”
He smiled and put a finger to his lips, blowing out a steady stream of air and spit towards my face. “Shhhhh... come on, I won’t tell. It’ll be our little secret.” He tossed his bottle and rifle to the side and grabbed my hand.
I pushed him off. “Get the hell off of me.”
He grabbed me again, his face now contorted and hurt. “I wasn’t asking.”
I hit him again and he held on. I tried to break free, but he was too strong. I pushed at his chest and screamed for help and he effortlessly threw me down onto my cot.
He wrapped a beefy hand around my neck to shut me up. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He waited for me to move again, but I didn’t. His words had hit me harder than he could have ever had.
I didn't fight back. I let him crawl on top of me. I let him lift up my shirt and run his outstretched hand across my stomach. I let him grab and unbuckle my belt, the stench of gasoline completely enveloping my body, but I didn’t resist. I needed to be able to move both my arms.
Terrified, I pulled on his collar and dragged him closer to me.
He smiled and leaned in, enjoying the turn of events,
but froze as soon as the smell hit him. I didn’t think he recognized it at first, then he looked down to confirm the suspicion. He’d been burning as I held the lit lighter in my other hand up against his belly. I was amazed at how quickly his jacket caught a flame.
“YOU BITCH!” He threw me onto the ground and I watched him struggle to strip his jacket off.
I got back up, heart pounding, and pushed against his back as hard as I could. He fell over the cot and into the wall, pulling down the rest of the tent with him as he went. The soft felt immediately came down over my head and I stuck my hands out to try and find a way in total darkness.
I dived towards an opening. I stumbled outside and turned around just to see the orange glow of the flame brighten as it licked across the fabric and the fumbling shape underneath. I jumped back when his head popped through. He crawled out of a corner half naked as the entire pile of tinder started to go up in flames. I tried to run away when someone grabbed me from behind.
“Where the hell do you think you're going?” said Ryan.
I immediately recognized his voice. I tried to break free, but he pulled his arm against my throat and into his chest, choking me. Any air that managed to make it out was strangled.
He pointed a pistol at the man on the ground. “Get up!”
“Yess ssir.” The words barely left his lips before they erupted in a shower of blood and skin. I watched, dumbstruck, as another explosion pierced his chest in a mist of red. His legs automatically crumpled beneath him and he fell back into the flames.
I could hear the gunfire ring out across the camp and into the dark. It had taken me a few moments to realize that someone else had shot him. By the time I did, it was too late. I wouldn’t have been able to look away or wipe the scene from my memory.
Ryan reacted for the both of us and spun me around as a human shield, gun pointing into the unknown as he struggled to see who had taken the shot. He fired his gun into the night, blindly, and it occurred to me that I would be on the receiving end if anyone else had the same idea. Fortunately, he tried a different tactic.
“We have women and children! Just put your guns down! We can talk about this.” He kept his gun up and watched, both of us holding our breath until someone's voice broke through the static of the distant firefight.
“I wanna talk to Tess.”
We spun around to meet the source and a figure slowly started moving towards us through the smoke. Ryan lifted his hand up to take the shot.
And I recognized who it was.
I grabbed the metal spike from my back pocket and jammed it into Ryan as hard as I could. I could hear a meaty thud as it easily broke his skin like a piece of ham.
He yelled out and dropped down in pain, letting me go.
“Jeremy!” I ran up to him and threw my hands around his neck. It had never felt so good to see someone that I recognized, but he quickly refocused and brought his rifle back up.
“Drop it, Ryan!”
He obeyed and chucked his pistol away, bending over his crooked leg with a groan, the metal anchor sticking out at an awkward angle.
Jeremy looked down at me. “Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth just as Scott ran past us and drove his fist into Ryan's head, knocking him over onto his side. “You son of a bitch!” Nick quickly joined in, both of them adamant in delivering the pain. Nothing else was as important anymore. Scott grabbed the pistol off the ground and whipped it across Ryan's face. They hit him again and again, the physical assault completely demanding as they took turns holding him up, cursing him out and beating him back down.
“Guys!” Jeremy took a step forward, but it was pointless. They were too far gone.
Scott handed the gun off to Nick and grabbed Ryan by the back of the head to watch blood run down across his eyes. He flashed a pocket knife in front of his face. “Say hi to Evelyn for me, asshole.” He pushed it up against his throat.
“Stop!” I held my hand out. I tried to get closer, but Jeremy kept me back by my other arm. My eyes were starting to run. Everything was happening too quickly. I needed it to stop.
Scott turned to look at me and Ryan’s head wobbled, barely conscious, streams of red running down onto the blade pressed against the veins in his neck.
I gazed at Ryan and I saw what he was. I saw what he could do, but it wasn't enough. I looked at him and all I could think about was how she had killed. All those people had died and I was there with her to be able to feel them go through with it all: the agony, the despair, the fear of the unknown on the precipice between life and death. The sensations riled up inside of me as though they were flushed through my veins.
“Don’t do it.” I looked at Ryan and I tried my best to choke back tears. I knew he could tell it was me talking, even under all the blood and swelling. I looked at Scott. “Don’t kill him. You don’t have to.”
Scott stared, eyes wide, short on breath and not sure of what to do, but the knife didn’t move. He looked at Jeremy for an answer but didn’t get anything. I could see fresh trails of blood start to open up underneath Ryan’s chin as Scott's hand began to tremble and turn white around the handle. I let it out again. I wasn't even sure if anyone else could hear me, though I didn't have to wait long.
The blade fell away. Scott brought his attention back to me, glaring, hands balled into fists. He was furious. He had wanted the kill and I had deprived him of the satisfaction.
“Forget about him,” said Jeremy. “We gotta move.”
“Hold your fire!”
We turned around to see a trio of Ryan’s men behind us, guns at the ready. One of them held Amanda by the waist as she fought to break free. Another group emerged on the reverse side with Simon, Murphy, and Mike, all of them defenseless and freshly bruised. We were surrounded. Even if Ryan had been killed, we would have never made it out. Our only warning came from one of the guards that would have shot us in the back.
“Drop the guns or you all die.”
He was right, but nobody moved. They were too tense. Nick and Jeremy kept their guns up. Someone just needed to say the word.
“'I'm not gonna—”
“Stop.” Jeremy held a hand up. “Just hold on. Okay...” He held his rifle in front of him and slowly lowered it to the ground.
Nick shortly followed suit while the fire continued to burn at our flank. The smell of burning hair and meat made me want to gag. We raised our arms and the armed men shoved us all into a group. One of them helped Ryan onto his feet. He tried to dab at his face with a towel but was pushed away.
“Get the fuck off me,” Ryan spat. Most of the blood had managed to been wiped off, but his flesh was still badly deformed, the copious amount of cuts and swelling misshaping his face disproportionately. He took his pistol back and pointed it at us. “Get them down. I want them all in a line!”
His men hesitated. One of them started to protest. “They’re not even—”
Ryan grabbed his collar and screamed into his face. “I don't care. Fucking move them! NOW!”
He barked his orders and the men followed suit. I could see someone bring Martha from around the corner. She nursed a busted lip and continued to fight again as Ryan yelled at the man holding Amanda.
He pointed his gun at her and she began balling her eyes out. “Her too. I want them all on their knees.”
Martha yelled and someone held her back. Scott couldn't take it. “You son of a bitch!” He tried to fight but was easily kept at bay. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I felt dazed as my knees hit the ground to join the line, four people on either side of me, my new friends.
Ryan hobbled over and pointed his gun down at Scott’s head, right next to mine. “You wanna know what my problem is, Scott? You don’t belong in this world.” His words were slurred and splattered with the blood from his mouth, but the message came across. He pressed the pistol down against Scott's head. “Here. Let me help you...”
I watched the trigger pull back and whatever final thoughts
had passed through Scott's mind now fell on the rest of us as he hit ground lifeless. My ears hurt from the immense pressure wave, ringing as if every drop of blood on the side of my face reverberated like a bell, but Ryan continued.
He placed the gun against Jeremy’s head and I could barely make out my own voice.
The feelings instantly came back again. “Don’t! Please, don’t. You don’t have to do this.”
Ryan only looked over and scoffed at my attempt to beg. “Look at the low hanging brass on you. Do you really think it matters who dies?”
I tried to rack my mind for an answer. We were completely out of options, but we could still talk. I thought if I chose the right words I might be able to get him to stop. “Killing him isn’t gonna change anything.”
Ryan groaned at that and lowered the gun, looking up at the dark sky, and even managed a curt laugh.
For a naive moment, I thought it might have worked.
He stepped in front of me. “You must think you’re a saint.”
“No—”
“Do you really think you have all the answers?”
“No, I—”
“Why do you think you’re better than everyone else?”
“I’m not!”
“FUCK NO, YOU'RE NOT!” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me through the dirt. I struggled and swung my arms, helpless, until he threw me into the tent that had been next to mine.
My chest hit the ground and I strained to look up as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could barely make out a cot. A clear bag of liquid hung from a piece of metal and ran down underneath the sheets. My heart sank even lower than I had deemed possible.
“Do you know who that is?” Ryan grabbed me by the hair again and dragged me to the side of the bed, forced me down onto my knees and pulled my head up to look at the body. “Do you recognize him?” Nothing would have blocked the tears.
I did.
Ryan pressed the gun up against the back of my head and forced me to look closer at the lifeless face. “I said, DO YOU RECOGNIZE HIM?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t stop crying. The word barely made it out as I stumbled to cope.