He nods and adjusts his torso, unblocking me from the gun with its flirtatious clasp. His eyes never leave mine as I wrap my hand around it, lifting it and fulfilling its taunts with an almost seduction-like satisfaction. The cold metal is heavy in my hand, taking me by surprise with its weight. The world sinks down to just the face in front of me with his silent prayers. As I realize what I have set into motion, I hope those prayers are for me.
I hear him remove the wooden barrier we have been hiding behind. I hear the shouts rain down upon us, colored with their confusion and anger. I feel his hand on my shoulder squeezing me with encouragement, and yet his grasp coats me with anger at his weakness. The anger fuels my determination and I slide through our glass door with the sun watching me yet again. This time it has no heat. There is only coldness around me as if Death has already taken a seat to watch the show.
The first pull of the trigger snaps my hand back with the recoil, missing the target of the woman’s body in front of me. My shot lands further up in the pile, staggering the wrong one with the blow. His shoulder is forced forward nudging the body in front of him with a domino effect of accidental merit. They both freeze in the Risen’s form of awareness when something has changed around them. One by one, they all take on the sudden lack of movement. It’s more frightening to watch than their attacks because I know their focus is about to become me. My heart gains speed with every extended second, they mutely stand there.
Shoulder by shoulder they turn to stare at me as they wait for their bodies to move in the new direction. Glazed eyes become alive again as I come into view for them, animating their limp bodies with renewed hate and hunger. The torn and rotting mass before me moves as one with their new hunt. Sounds of their stalking stir my own body with renewal and I lift the gun again. My aim goes wide, hitting only shoulders, chests and the glass behind them. It only staggers the ones I do hit as their bodies react to the puncturing, but their minds never acknowledge the wounds. They cannot feel what is already dead. Only their brains are still alive in some inhuman fashion and that’s the target I must find.
I exhale as the gap between us shrinks with each of my misses. They are in no hurry to reach me. What is left of their minds somehow has figured out I am holding something threatening to them. Watching them, I am once again reminded these are not the ones who were made to fill nightmares on wide-screen movies. No, these are walking nightmares of their own making.
They are plotting the best path to me, separating into small groups to take me down. They divide before me, giving me more targets to worry about as each group assumes a different speed towards me. To focus on only one side will be my undoing from the other side. They drag my attention to each section with their sounds only for another group to start their own distractions, causing my shots to go wide in my panic. They are attempting to mentally tear me apart, reducing my threat to them before they can tear into my flesh.
They stalk towards me, waiting until the gap is small enough to rush me in their perfected killing style. I have seen them hunt before and I force the images to stay buried as Lilly’s laughter floats down the halls of my mind. My hands twitch with the feather soft memory of her gentle fingers. I inhale the scent of her baby shampoo and calm washes over me in a welcoming, numbing fashion. This time as I take aim, I can feel the slow draw of the metal trigger. The recoil has no jolting scorn. The target crumbles finally, fully broken upon the ground.
With each crumbling form I walk forward to meet them, filled with a new determination. The gap slowly folds around me, causing them to finally rush forward, removing all hunting skills with their fierce intentions. I answer each teeth-bared snarl with a shot from Chapel’s gun and their heads snap back, bowing them backwards.
I can see the store now through the clearing I am slowly forming as I drop one body after another. The doors are open and the two from before are now joined with another male. They stand watching with mixed waves of emotions upon their faces. Crimson gore slinks its way down the smiling vinyl faces around the open doors. It frames them with a carnivorous mouth of fore- shadowing should I fall.
I stand my ground, aiming at each of the Risen before me. The perfume of my humanity fills them with a new lust-filled frenzy. Their vocal excitement escalates their hunger, driving each of them deeper into desperation to reach me with their flesh-torn limbs and skeletal fingers. I stand against an army of rotting demons and I wonder if my army is still watching. Is J.D. watching me with hopes of having his threat carried out for him? Will he still mourn?
Chapel’s clip snaps empty and I still fire twice more before I come to realize what the sound means. I reach for my knife and find the holster missing from my side. My mind flashes a picture of it still under the pillow I was resting on just a few moments ago safe in Lawless’ arms. How has the morning gone so wrong so fast?
There are still five Risen left before me. They are frozen in the way only the dead could hold such poses. Their minds are searching to find the change in the situation once again. Only their eyes move as they mentally assess me. The one closest to me seems to grin as he reaches the conclusion of how vulnerable I am before the others do. It causes his dull eyes to slowly brighten with the dawning of it.
I am transfixed by the changes melting over him before me. The calmness, which filled me moments ago with determination, evaporates watching him. Like a child with a water gun, I continue to dry fire Chapel’s gun in his direction. Each of the empty clicks is spreading his wide grin into a snarl.
I know there is movement behind me, not from my own aware- ness of it, but because of his eyes. They were once trained on me, but now they are watching something else. They dull again making his face slack as his brain once again seeks to figure out what is happening behind me.
Risen think and react, but it makes them slow. It’s the only exposing weakness I have discovered, as they stand confused for a few pauses in time trying to interpret their prey. With their minds so engaged in the situation, their bodies seem unable to move. Just their eyes are watching, gathering and plotting a new way to kill you.
His eyes follow something coming up behind me along the ground. With the rate of his eyes, I know it is coming fast and I instinctively look. The sun reflects off the metal blade sliding towards me. The metal is hissing along the sidewalk with its progress towards me like a snake warning those around it of the danger. My knife is coming home.
Over my shoulder, I see Aimes standing outside our Center as hands wrestle Lawless back inside. He is fighting to be free of them and pleading with me to come back to him. Kneeling to grasp my old teddy bear, I smile into those pleading brown eyes of my current one. Our eyes lock, draining him of his purpose. He knows I must see this through. My stubbornness, the very thing he once loved about me, is now coming between us. I only hope he can forgive me. Aimes screams my name, bringing me back to myself. I realize too late the mistake I have made. I have turned my back on Death and the pause is over.
Pulling my body in tight, I wait with some mentally stored basic knowledge of self-defense. His hands grab me, forcing me still for his attack and I wait even as screams come from all around me. I watch our shadows slowly merge into one as he lowers his mouth to my flesh and I still wait as my heartbeat fills my ears with its pattern. I hear his snarl so close to my face the scent of his breath expels all air from my lungs and still I wait despite my body joining in with the screams around me.
Lilly’s laughter encompasses me again. It helps to block out the world around me as I focus on the sound. Time slows down, dragging the rate of his attack with it. The stench of his rotting breath is heavier. The sounds at my ear, even the caress of the wind slows as I finally begin my own hunt.
My left arm swings up, locked at the elbow to take the shock of the attack. It blocks his reach for my neck as it collides with his face, tilting it sideways. My right arm follows the gravity of the attack, coming down on his tilted face. The blade slides with snapping sounds into the space between his temple
and eye, pulling me around with the force of his fall. I stare at the man crumpled next to me before removing the blade with a wet, sucking sound. Her baby soft laughter dances around me and I wonder, for my own pause in time, if I am finally losing my mind. A part of me truly hopes so because I still have four more to go.
I give no time for my body to reconsider my course of actions. If I stop to think about what I am marching up to, I will lose all confidence in myself with my brutal truths. The blade drips black crimson drops with every step I take like my personal drummer for this battle.
The female Risen before me has been turned longer than the male. Her face has melted down to cling to her sharp cheekbones. The skin around her eyes is yellowed and almost bruised-like in coloring. Her lips are chapped and torn, shredding the tender flesh around them. Her hair is cut short and matted, making it limp and clinging to her face. It further emphasizes the decay of her features.
Her arms reach for me, seeking a target for her never-ending hunger. It has become the only purpose left to her. I slide in between those deceptively weak arms of hers, keeping her body away from me with my own. I thrust the blade into her face forcing it to its hilt. Bracing against her fall, I let her slide off the blade with gravity’s help. Her death coats the blade with more crimson material for the drummer to use. Three more.
The next to reach me was once a female teen or young twenty-something. She is dressed in a tragic emo-style. It now mocks her walking death with its black fishnets and skull decorated dress. Her long blonde hair is a sharp contrast to the image she tried so hard to portray in life. Even with the added bright colors, now a stark contrast to the faded fabrics of her dress, she still never really was able to grasp the concept.
The flesh of her left shoulder is shredded and torn, exposing bone and wetter objects for the flies to sample. The injury makes it slower than the right arm and I use that side as my opening.
I never pause in my step, but reach up with such false bravery and skill to plant the blade in my right hand into her temple. Her slower, damaged arm allows me to go untouched even as she falls before me, leaving only two more.
The blade is slick now and slides around in my hand. The grip was never meant to be this coated in so many layers of blood and thicker matter as it is now. My palm becomes cold with the wet- ness that tries to wrap itself around it. The knowledge creeps into my mind of what I am doing, and it is covering my heart in so much more stone. The drummer has picked up his tempo with the amount of splattering I leave in my wake, a crescendo to an almost demonic-like dance.
As I brace for the last two, they jerk backwards with a loud echo and violent destruction. It vibrates the area around me, and I startle at their motions. I mimic them as I freeze in my path, trying to figure out what has taken place. When I feel my body spin around with a powerful force, I brace for a new attack.
Brown eyes swimming in anger stare down into mine as his hand clutches my shoulder and the other holsters his weapon. He steadies me from the effects of his spin. Even with the anger flowing from his body, my own melts into his with all my bravado gone. The blade falls to the ground with the finale of my battle song as my arms wrap around Lawless, pulling him close to me. He hides me in my weakness with his arms around me. His hand presses my head to his shoulder and the other pulls my back toward his chest. His head rests on the top of mine and I am thankful to not be able to read his face right now. He allows me to huddle there absorbing his strength and stability, listening to the rush of his heart telling of his fears. I stare at the honey-hued skin of his arms, marveling at their strength and yet how gently he holds me to him as if I really am as fragile as I feel right now. “You came for me,” I whisper into his chest. My voice giving away more of my weakness than I am ready to admit.
His silence makes me hold my breath. He is so still before me with only the sounds of his heart talking to me. I wonder for a moment if the price I must pay for my disobediences will cost my soul too much.
“I will always come for you, Helena,” he finally answers me. His voice is just as weak as mine as he says, “I just don’t know if you are living to die or dying to live anymore. All I know is you are killing me with it.” I feel his voice echo through his chest.
It vibrates something deep in my core with its flatness. His high wall of protection it comes from strips me of my walls. I feel my first tear falling for my payment. Our golden tilt-a-whirl of a romance is spinning away from me and I feel him slipping from me while I stand here desperately clinging to us.
He drops his arms from around me, side-stepping from me. He never looks at me but keeps his eyes straight ahead when the sound of our group reaches us. I am left cold and alone with- out him to hold me. My mortar begins to crack. My world is crumbling.
Chapter 22
The two groups stand with an imaginary line drawn between us. We apprehensively exchange greetings as we each verbally test the other out. J.D. does not bother to hide his annoyance and distrust with any small talk. Lawless does our talking with a forced cheer to help soothe J.D.’s remarks. His voice holds his normal charm, but it does not relate his body language.
As friendly as he is being, he is not letting it be confused as an invitation. He is blocking Aimes and I with his body from those before us. Rhett stands to his left with his hands resting on his belt buckle in total ease with the situation. One look into his eyes will show you a different story.
Rhett is memorizing every feature of the group ahead of us. Every movement they make he is submitting to analysis. He is watching their mannerisms, hoping they will alarm him of danger before the danger has time to form. J.D. may draw your death out, but Rhett will just kill you and then go about his day as he had planned before you inconvenienced him. I am not sure which one of them scares me anymore, or for that matter if they even scare me at all.
The one male we had not noticed in the store until now is named Simon. The tall African American male acts as their voice to the questions Lawless asks them. He offers no more of a welcome than he is receiving. He stares between Rhett and Lawless to capture my gaze, ignoring any attempts to gain his attention from Rhett or Lawless. It sets our men at greater discord and I can feel the tension surrounding us.
“That was some stunt you pulled,” Simon says to me, ignoring the building agitation he is causing. “Name is Simon.” He reaches through them to extend his hand to me.
Rhett’s eyes go the cold color we have learned to avoid. Lawless tilts his head from side-to-side slowly as if he is working out a sore muscle group in his neck. The male posturing builds with Simon’s boldness.
“It wasn’t a stunt. I couldn’t stand by and just watch is all.” I take his hand in my own with the normal sign of greeting, hoping to ease down the men in front of me and say, “Helena, and this is Aimes.” I gesture to the blonde pixie beside me who is beaming with amusement at the situation. Her sense of humor may be a bit twisted.
“And the two men you just sealed your fate with are Rhett and Lawless,” Aimes says, as she motions to the men in front of us who are no longer trying to hide their annoyance at the disrespect shown to them. “J.D. back here wanted you dead from go, so you may want to slow your roll on the death wishes.” She wears her sweetest smile. It even reaches her eyes with its charm. Honestly. Simon smirks, taking it all in as his stare roams over each male figure. He is not bothering to hide his dare to call him on what he is doing. I know from years with Lawless the tilt of his head is the first sign of his anger. The second clue is his tongue dancing along his back molars before sliding along his front teeth behind clamped lips. The sniffing from him is his final build up. It signals Marxx to join his right side with his own gestures of annoyance.
It has now become a bomb waiting to explode and the detonator is one wrong word or look from Simon who seems to enjoy pushing their buttons as much as Aimes does.
The other male steps in between the standoff with an open arm smile. He is careful not to break the imaginary line the men have
placed between them.
“Let’s all just breathe here. I mean, it was a pretty amazing thing to watch from this side here. One little girl against that whole mess? Seven men and only the girl had the courage to step out. That is crazy!” he says with amused embarrassment.
Guess who just spoke the wrong word? Go on, guess. I’ll wait. “What are you trying to say?” J.D.’s calm voice holds more anger than a shout, letting the question hang in the air. It rolls outward sneaking up in a warning of caution. Once J.D. gives the signal, this will all go south fast and Rhett smiles with the knowledge of it.
“No, no I am not calling anyone anything. I was just explaining Simon’s amusement is all,” his voice trails off, as J.D. steps up to fill the gap between Rhett and Lawless, pushing Aimes and I further back. “I’m Ross,” he says, extending his hand to J.D. as an apology.
J.D. pretends to not notice it, still staring at the man. Rhett tries to hide his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. He fails.
Ross’ shaggy light brown hair is showing the stress of the day with the many runs of his hands through it. Pale teal eyes seek some hint of closure from me as the men face him. Simon is still smirking into the face of Marxx as Ross inches this closer to peril. “This is Leslie,” Ross says, motioning to the redhead beside him undiscouraged by the insult.
She is as annoyed as I am with their male egos. She gives a simple nod and a wide fake smile to further prove it. I think I may like her.
“Well now that we are all fine friends here, where are you folks holding up at?” J.D. smiles, but it has no warmth to it.
“And why the hell would we tell you that?” Simon smiles his own empty smile back at him.
Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1) Page 14