Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1)

by Marie F. Crow

  “Well as I see it, your friend there left you for dead. My girl saved your asses. I see it as you owe us. Unless you just want to camp out here till someone from your camp remembers where they left you.” J.D. shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me one way or another.”

  J.D. makes some small gesture that sets the men to action. Whatever it was, the rest of us missed it. By the time we react, Lawless, Rhett and Marxx are pushing their way through into the building. Simon follows with a small skipping motion to catch up to them. Ross glances at Aimes, Chapel and me for some clue, but we have none to offer him.

  J.D. places his hands in his front pockets and rocks on his heels with male delight. “Like I said, you owe us.”

  Ross’ and Leslie’s faces fill with the look of disbelief as the sounds of destruction drift out of the store. Destruction brought on by my attempted efforts to save them. Everything happening to this group now is my fault. I brought them into our world without their permission. Now they are being forced to accept the actions of a man who holds only one truth to be true. His.

  With annoyance, I walk towards the open doors only to have J.D. grab me, setting those nerve wracking eyes on me.

  “I think you’ve had just about enough fun for one day, Sweetheart,” he says.

  His voice holds so much anger it is almost a whisper, reminding me of his earlier warnings. We stare at each other over this new divide forming between us. Our foundation slowly cracks under its weight.

  “Nothing much left in there,” Marxx says, breaking through our standoff. “Looks like whoever boarded the place up went through it pretty well.”

  “Pretty much just basic shit.” Lawless joins the discussion, exiting the store with a relaxed walk. His eyes dart from me to J.D. who still is holding on to my arm. They hover to Aimes quickly for some insight before returning to us as he says, “A few jugs of water, basic camping gear, plenty of tourist crap.”

  “Any food?” J.D. asks.

  “No,” Marxx answers with his seemingly limited vocabulary. “Well, at least none left on the shelves,” Lawless adds, leaving the unspoken words open to interpretation and J.D. interprets. “Rip it apart,” J.D. says, with his voice calm and face blank, still holding me in place.

  Lawless pivots, patting Marxx on the chest signaling him to follow when J.D. pulls the next scheme from his dark depths.

  “No. Not you two,” J.D. says, turning to the man behind me, “you.”

  Chapel exhales, running a hand slowly over the lower half of his face. To refuse this, would mark him forever in their books. It will make him slip from their trust, which was deadly before this new world. Now it will be devastating.

  J.D. knows this is on the boundary of Chapel’s comfort zone. This is his punishment for helping me and his punishment for being too weak to stop me. J.D. knows the man has been in an internal war with his ideas of morality since the world tilted.

  Someone who once held life so precious in the encasement of his family is now standing alone in the darkness, seeking any light to guide him home. He wears his ghosts like a shroud of many weights. He has become nothing more than a melancholy phantom of his former self. Now Chapel is being told to wade deeper into the darkness of what is left of his humanity.

  Lawless and Marxx watch the scene, wearing their masks of disinterest to cover their thoughts. J.D. keeps his eyes locked on his target, wearing thin the shield of shelter from which Chapel uses to hide. Too long of a delay is just as damning as a no. The clock is running.

  “There really is no need for all this.” Ross steps forward to ease down the tension. I have figured out his role in their group already. Leslie’s eyes roll to confirm it. “She did save us. I am sure, we can all work something out here that would best suit everyone.”

  As J.D.’s grip tightens on my arm, I make a mental note to thank Ross for that little reminder again. The man may as well be handing J.D. a shovel.

  “She must have one hell of a Guardian Angel,” Ross says, with a chuckle.

  “I lost all my Angels a long time ago.” I jerk free of J.D.’s grasp as eyes turn to me with secret knowledge. Their anger simmers some at the implications of my words. “Where is Rhett?” I ask, refusing to submit to their stares.

  “Testing out his new knife,” Lawless answers me as his mask slips around the edges with the tremble of his voice.

  I refuse to give in to it. I refuse to allow his pity to pour out my own pain. “On what?” I ask.

  “Whatever gets in his way,” Marxx’s deep gravel voice leaves more questions than answers, stirring panic finally within Ross. We find Simon and Rhett in a classic, old west scenario. All that was missing is the well-known whistle of a sound effect for the situation, which Aimes provides for us at our arrival unable to help herself. Rhett’s back is to us, blocking Simon from their already packed supply run in anticipation of our leader’s next move. I don’t know if it their standoff is about the supplies or not, but it does allow J.D. to once again check Chapel’s resolve.

  “Go.” J.D. motions with a head nod, letting the man know he has not forgotten his test.

  Marxx and Lawless mirror Chapels steps, blocking Ross and Leslie with their own movements from the bags and our man. Their hands fold together in front of their bodies, or tuck into pockets in their false relaxed stance while watching the other two for any resistance.

  “Wait, let’s just all step back here and think about this.” Ross plays his role well.

  What others may see as weakness is his strength. He doesn’t have to know our men well to see what is about to happen. It’s obvious.

  Simon will never allow Chapel to reach those bags peacefully and Rhett will never allow Simon to reach Chapel. Once the fighting starts, Ross knows how his group will fare. His role is to make sure it doesn’t happen, no matter the cost to his pride, the most precious thing to a man. That is what makes Ross stronger than any of those before us.

  “Let me just talk to them for a moment. I am sure we can all work something out that makes us all happy. Okay?” Ross asks, not waiting for an answer.

  He walks forward with palms upright with hopes of safe pas- sage between Marxx and Lawless. Neither man moves to spare him any room; making him well aware of how fast this could still go upside down with the shoulder jabs they place upon him as he passes.

  Rhett melts backwards to us. He never turns his back on Simon as Ross passes him. Rhett’s actions let us know which male he believes to be the biggest threat with one final insult to Ross and Simon smiles with the acknowledgement. Leslie walks around Aimes and myself using us as a shield between her and J.D. To her credit, she never glances back to be sure if they moved toward her. Her shoulders twitch when Marxx shuffles his feet for a grin, but she doesn’t look back. We are separating into our own groups again with another imaginary line drawn.

  “We ain’t leaving without those bags,” J.D. tells us, once we are collected around him.

  The words cause the men to do some type of preparations al- lowing Simon to see our course is not altering. Rhett nods, rolling his shoulders one-by-one. Marxx flexes his arms, crossing them in front of him before pulling them back. Lawless just waits. Still in his false relaxed stance, he stands waiting and watching. At most, he does his telltale sharp breath inhales, but otherwise he is relaxed and waiting for the words to start the fight.

  I grow tired of it all. I am tired of the fighting to live. I am tired of the fighting within and now the fighting with others. I am just tired of the fighting.

  Every day is a new struggle, or an illusion of security and I just can’t help but wonder how much longer we will last. How will we last, not only in this new world, but also with one another? Already our bonds are cracking under the strain of it.

  Friendships are faltering, as one must choose what to obey and what to question. Every day we are being tested under some new paranoia of J.D.’s with his constant threats upon us. My skin is growing thin with it all. My nerves are fraying, and perhaps Lawless is right about
me as I find myself picking another fight just for the release.

  “What do you think is exactly in those bags that will make all this worth it?” I ask and my voice sounds bored where my heart is hammering in anger.

  “She has a point,” Aimes adds her voice, fresh with her annoyance. “So, you go all rumble fest, get the bags, high-five testosterone each other, then what?”

  Four sets of eyes are upon us now. Only Rhett keeps his eyes forward on the other group, but he is very aware. Chapel’s eyes shine in solidarity with us while the others rest upon us, judging us.

  “We make this place secure. We settle in here.” J.D.’s voice is once again serpent sharp. His eyes are a blank pool of emptiness holding plenty of meaning. Aimes is tiptoeing a line she has never danced before.

  “A rest stop? By the interstate? Where plenty of others will be desperately driving by?” Aimes’ voice lowers to a hissing whisper with her frustrations. “What part of that says “good thinking J.D.” to you? No one will ever find us here!”

  J.D. looks at me as if I am to blame for her newfound backbone. I can’t stop the smile I feel spreading across my face as the pixie finally shows her claws. Sharp, sarcastic claws.

  “Look at them. That Simon is the only one with any amount of balls and this is the crew they depend on to send out to scavenge. Obviously, they are somewhere safe. Safe, as in not the side of the road with a plywood fence for protection and three well-trained attack monkeys,” she says, even as Rhett makes a wounded noise at her directional comment.

  “Instead of doing this dick measuring contest, we should convince them that they need us, J.D. We don’t need a whole new group, but a nice addition or two can make life a lot easier,” I hiss. Something about my words makes Lawless do another of his anger testing sharp inhales as Chapel watches it all, silently trying to warn me with his soft colored eyes. Chapel isn’t the only one who notices the discomfort though.

  J.D. sneers in our direction with some twisted amusement saying, “I don’t think your boy there likes the idea of adding any new bodies to this crew of ours. You in need of some new snuggle buddies, Barbie?”

  His blow is meant to hurt. He knows now my own fears, and like a sharp blade he slices me with them. I stare into Lawless’ searching eyes and for once, I say nothing. I pray it says everything.

  “This crew needs the help,” Chapel’s voice tests the waters gently with its volume. “We will run out of ammo soon. Only a matter of time until we are overrun again, if we are not discovered first. This is not a sound place to set up. So, we either go place-to-place, hoping one of them will stick or we see what they have and try that out. No one is saying we have to stay. A decent meal, a good night’s sleep and then we can decide what to do.” He shrugs, his voice growing stronger as the other males listen to his words with sincere interest.

  I never realized before how little they rely on Chapel or his opinions or how very shy he feels around them. When did this divide grow, separating us all into our own little worlds as we fight to live in this world together?

  Rhett, Marxx and Lawless all look to J.D. for his support, or refusal of the plan. Aimes and I exchange looks over their behavior and wait as the gears turn in J.D.’s head. If there was something to drum those new claws of hers on, she would be.

  J.D.’s mind is engaging in a civil war and it is easy to read on his face as he battles between the desires to keep us separate from all others, and yet the undisputed need for more protection. There is an exchange of facial expressions between him and Lawless and only they seem to understand it as Rhett and Marxx watch their silent codes.

  Lawless tilts his head and shrugs, giving approval with the understanding he will do whatever the other man wants. Marxx and Rhett nod, backing the silent plan. Aimes makes a raspberry-like noise with her mouth as she rolls her eyes over their mute actions. “Well alright. Let’s go plan us a sleepover, kiddies,” J.D. says, with feigned excitement.

  “Great, I want the top bunk,” Aimes says, matching his false enjoyment.

  “You can top me anytime you want,” Lawless teases her, play- fully shoving her forward.

  Chapel and I trail behind them as they navigate through the wreckage of the store to the group ahead of us. Simon watches our progress with a guarded expression, signaling for the others to notice. Ross’ thousand-watt smile is instantly on and beaming in our direction. His face is a direct opposite of his other two friends, making it stand out even more. It’s nice to feel welcomed. “So, Cupcakes, seems we have us an impasse here. As far as impasses go, we seem to be on the winning side.” J.D. smiles that good ol’ boy smile and it can be taken in a thousand different ways.

  Simon is not taking it well. “Is that so? Just how do you come to that conclusion?” he asks with sincere disgust for J.D.

  I don’t mean to smirk. It just happens. I also didn’t mean for Marxx to see it.

  “Well seems to me, you’re the only real man here for your team. Hell, my girl here has more balls than your boy. Where do you think this will really land if we decide to play ball?” J.D. asks, still wearing his country boy charm.

  It’s not really a compliment J.D. has given me. It’s a bus with a large horn. It just ran me over and is now slipping into reverse for good measure.

  Simon’s eyes lock with mine spreading a masculine, fantasy-filling smile as he says, “That she does.”

  Ross’ smile only falters a little before returning to its blinding state.

  “I’m also thinking you may be the only real tough guy for your whole set-up. Must be hard having to take care of everything all by your little lonesome there. Setting it all up for just one little troop like us to take it all apart. You being left behind like this after all you have done for them; that can’t sit well with you now,”

  J.D. draws out each word, letting it sink and soak in any paper cuts of a wound Simon may have. “I’m just thinking it might be nice for you to have some back up is all. A little support in all your efforts. Maybe even the chance to have some men around just to escape all this lack of spine you seem to be surrounded with.” J.D. smiles as his mind games start to build.

  “That could be helpful in a few ways.” An exaggerated south- ern drawl flirts into the conversation, snapping Aimes and my heads around.

  We had both been making faces at the other as we listened to

  J.D., We have seen this show before. It doesn’t get any easier to swallow no matter how many times he does it.

  Leslie is smiling her own style of blinding charm and she aims it at Lawless in his waiting stance. He returns the smile, letting his eyes glide over her with pure male interest that sets my heart back a beat or two. J.D.’s eyes bounce from him to me and back to Leslie before a different smile creeps along his lips.

  “Oh hell, no she didn’t,” Aimes whispers in my ear, with as much shock at the woman’s boldness as with Lawless’ reaction. “Someone must’ve totally just missed the zombie death machine a few moments ago. Between Simon and chick-in-need-of-dick, there are some serious death wishes in their camp is all I’m saying,” she says in an attempted whisper, letting it carry loud enough to those around us.

  “There are some serious death wishes in our camp,” Lawless answers back to her.

  His eyes are still gliding over Leslie’s body. He keeps his back to us, shutting me out one-step further as our previous conversation floats in my mind. J.D. smiles at me, watching another slice land on my bruised ego.

  Chapel’s hands rest on my shoulders with a gently squeezing massage, trying to lower the tension building. Silence may be golden, but it’s one bitch of a thing to obtain.

  “I so hate it when the kiddos fight,” Rhett says. He mimics a small pouty lip as Aimes flashes her favorite one finger salute at him. “Wounded. Really,” he says, as a smile dances in his eyes, baiting her for a response.

  “Not yet, but give me five good minutes,” she promises, tilting her head as she smiles. She radiates sweetness with her “who me?” posture
.

  “Any time, Sweetheart. I’d be more than happy to play with you.” Rhett’s posture hints at things not so sweet, but just as playful.

  “You two done?” J.D. cuts through their banter with a winter’s edge in his voice.

  Rhett’s smile fades in a shrug as he returns to his watchful gaze of those before us.

  Simon has stood silently watching the make-up of our circle in the short play we just performed before him. Our conflicts and bindings rolling by in our oblivion to whomever may be watching. Whatever he saw in our exchanges has relaxed his stance some, even as Ross continues to smile and Leslie encourages Lawless with her own smirk.

  “Let’s talk,” Simon says, motioning for J.D. to step away with him.

  The two groups merge as the alphas step away to play. Rhett keeps his distance from the two men but refuses to leave too much space between himself and J.D. He pretends to find the tourist items on their rotating shelf suddenly very intriguing. Lawless allows Leslie to slip up beside him, starting a whispered flirting conversation filled with smiles and her soft butterfly touches to his chest. Marxx joins our little circle unsure of whom to protect or block anymore with disgust for Lawless displayed across his face.

  “You should totally shank her. Right in that skank face of hers,” Aimes, the picture of warmth and friendship, mutters.

  “She’s just testing you. Leave it be.” Chapel’s gentle massage is ramping into forced rotations on my shoulders with his nerves or either his nervousness about mine.

  “He knows where he belongs,” Marxx’ gravelly deep voice tries to reassure us with the disgust at the show before us.

  “Yeah, but does his dick?” Aimes asks, bringing a small laugh from us all at her blunt honesty.

  “Dick is a tricky thing,” Marxx replies, looking at our pixie with her catty comment bringing a smile to his lips.

  “I can’t shank her anyway. I dropped my blade outside.” Even as I say it, I am already mentally picturing the satisfaction it would bring me.

  “You could always just take my gun again,” Chapel nonchalantly comments, bringing our laughter louder this time and it reaches those around us.