Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1)

by Marie F. Crow

  “I think you have,” J.D. says without emotion. “We are going to walk backwards, real slow like. Try not to shoot anymore unless we have to. Never was really good in math, but I count more before us than our clips can hold.”

  Ross stays behind us like the winner he is while we walk back- wards. The Risen on both sides of the glass are mimicking each step we take. The ones outside are watching us and the store group, trying to form the missing link for the anger. Should the outside group also be lured into a frenzy, we will lead them right to the very people we are trying to protect. As J.D.’s math problem pointed out, we cannot stand against this many.

  “You know the way out?” Chapel asks Ross. His gun sweeps the space before him, keeping track of the space between him and the creatures following us.

  “Yeah. Take a right,” Ross calls out each turn for us to take in our backwards escape.

  We never take more distance than what is already between us to avoid agitating them. As long as they can see us, they seem to be content in stalking us, plotting our deaths with their ever-watching eyes. This plan will not help us escape though. I wonder if J.D. is starting to see the folly of choosing a motorcycle as his apocalyptic vehicle.

  J.D. abandons his backwards walk beside me. It stirs growls and other noises from the Risen in front of us as their eyes focus on his sudden change of movement. His kicking over the many standing trash bins we pass, to scatter the mess in front of us, brings their beasts forward. Anger and hunger drag snarling faces into action with J.D.’s noise and movements. They are close to their frenzy.

  “Man, what are you doing?” Ross asks, with the panic of seeing their reactions.

  “My job,” J.D. answers, as if it should be plain for anyone to see other than someone like Ross. “Run if you want.”

  “Do and I’ll shoot you,” Chapel tells Ross, knowing the sight of him running away will be the final push needed to trigger them. Ross actually has the nerve to look to me for protection. Sorry, all I want is a nap and a warm blanket. A hot bath would be nice with bubbles foaming thick with their perfume. Too much to hope for?

  The value of his life on my to-do list must have shown on my face. He does not run. He is not smiling either. Bonus.

  Chapel has figured out what J.D. is doing. He too begins to kick objects of the various littered items in front of us. I am a tad disappointed I have, yet again, failed to grasp what is going on. Instead I stand, keeping my aim locked on the closest Risen, trying to look very intimidating. I giggle with the many faces I make at them in my pursuit of intimidation.

  “Shit,” Chapel says, staring at me.

  I must have finally found a scary face.

  “Yup,” J.D. answers him, his voice still empty of emotions, but I know he is agreeing with my face. “Girly, I need you to stay focused just a little bit longer.”

  “I need a nap,” I tell them, thinking it explains everything. Little do I know, it really does.

  “I know, Girly. Just stay with me a bit longer then we will get you that nap,” J.D. tells me.

  J.D. leans over the pile of trash he has somehow made into a thick line in front of us. I am not sure how I missed him doing that. The Risen seem to have snuck up on us a lot faster than I remembered them moving. My head clears with the awareness of the missing time.

  “Focus,” Chapel whispers to me. Reaching around me, he takes the gun from my hand. He feels so warm behind me. I had not realized how cold I had become. “When he lights that, we will run. Stay with me, Hells.”

  I don’t understand why they keep telling me to “stay with them”. I have no desire to stay here. I am cold, tired and having a hard time focusing. Not to mention, we have already discovered Aimes’ driving skills with a stick. They need me, I hear Ashley’s voice tell me again. I don’t think this is what she had in mind.

  The fire is instant and bright. The Risen pause, being unsure of what this is before them and what it may do to them. They search the catalog of their broken minds to find the clues they need to piece this new puzzle together.

  J.D. runs to me, turning me around as Chapel drags me for- ward. My feet will not keep up with him with how heavy they feel. Screams of hell’s anger start behind us at the sight of our escape through the bright fire. My feet are fine now, light as a feather.

  Lawless and Rhett have wasted no time as they waited for us. The motorcycles are running, vibrating the area in noise with their throaty engines. Even my truck sits with her engine purring with broken pieces of what is left of the makeshift ramp they had used to load Marxx’ bike in the long bed scattered around her. Aimes is sitting in the cab of the truck, keeping pressure on Marxx’ arm. J.D. stops me from climbing into the driver’s seat. He turns to Ross with the full weight of his cold, steel-colored stare. “Get them back. Safely. No more games,” he tells Ross, pushing me further down the bench so Ross can drive. J.D.’s words punctuate the possible risk of severity with Ross’ failure to do so. For once, Ross does not smile. He does not argue. He climbs silently behind the steering wheel, tossing the bag with the list and its items onto the floor in front of Aimes.

  “Keep her awake,” J.D. barks his final command to Ross before slamming the truck’s door shut.

  The men ride out of the parking lot as the first of the burning corpses comes around the store’s corner. Its whole body is in flames, but it keeps coming towards us as the flames climb up its body. It has no need of the organs the fire is melting or any knowledge of the pain the fire causes to them.

  One by one, the parking lot fills with the walking torches. Their flesh is melting and bubbling from the heat of the licking flames. Some make it further than others before they fall to the ground with the damage the fire is doing to the muscles of their bodies. The sight is horrific with the amount of the still moving, burning bodies filling the parking lot. The imagery of their crawling forms, roasting from the fire, trying to reach us, grants me new nightmares. Like the smell of smoke on my clothes, the smell of their burning flesh will always linger in my mind.

  “Stop looking,” Marxx whispers, weak from his wound to Aimes and myself with the shock of what we have seen on our faces.

  Ross pulls out onto the street and puts it all behind us. I only wish it would stay there. I know when I close my eyes tonight it will be back. It is always so much worse in my dreams.

  “Did you know what was in that room?” Marxx asks Ross, with his eyes clamped closed. “Is that why the store had the most build up blocking the door? You stored them in there?”

  I am not sure the implication of his words to Ross. I stay silent, as does Ross.

  “You’re a dead man. They will kill you for this.” Marxx’ voice is deeper than normal.

  I shiver with it.

  He places his hand on my leg, trying to reassure me, “You did good.”

  Looking at his grey face, I do not feel as if I “did good”. I feel as if I have led another to slaughter. Seems I have run out of lambs and have now moved on to black sheep. I’m a busy girl.

  He smiles at me saying, “Just a flesh wound. My ex used to do way worse.”

  “Was she a biter, too?” Aimes asks him, trying to bring a laugh back into the situation.

  Marxx chuckles and it is enough. It is enough to let us know he will make it “home.” I am just unsure of what will happen once we get there.

  Chapter 35

  The courtyard is clear of the many mingling people it normally holds. Even the numerous metal barrels used to provide the area with warmth are unlit. There are no signs of life and if it were not for how completely unrealistic it would be, I would think the place to be deserted.

  With how much the sight sets me at unease, it seems to confirm something for the men. Their faces hold their anger as they pull in beside us, scanning the area for signs of something I don’t see. Chapel seems to be the only one who is as confused as I am.

  J.D. swings open the driver door, once again forcing Ross from the truck. He skips, staggering as his feet try t
o steady him. J.D. kicks the man to the ground, watching him fall on the hard cement. With uplifted arms, Ross tries to protect himself from the blows J.D. is landing upon him. When he is satisfied Ross is too broken to escape, J.D. stops his torment. With a look of boredom, he walks slowly around the man crippled and bleeding before him.

  “Get him on his knees,” J.D. commands and it’s Lawless who rushes to do carry it out.

  “What are you doing?” Chapel asks them, lost in his confusion and outrage.

  Someone must pay for the spilled blood of their brother. Chapel is just unsure why it is Ross.

  “You ain’t figured it out?” J.D. asks him. “Let me know the moment you do.”

  I watch as J.D. pulls his soul’s coldness to the surface of his face. He is reaching deep into the darkest parts of himself for what he is about to do. Even as he forces himself to reach for it, he will love every minute of it.

  J.D. turns to the building’s high walls as Lawless and Rhett hold Ross between them. Ross is bleeding from the face with the many kicks from J.D. and his breathing is labored hinting at the damage done to his ribs. J.D. chambers his gun and points it at Ross, waiting for any movement towards us.

  “I know you are watching up there,” J.D. shouts. It echoes off the high walls and repeats back to us as if the building is mocking him. “Bet you didn’t think to see us again, did ya now?”

  The courtyard vibrates with his anger and still no acknowledgment comes from the building. J.D. turns to walk behind Ross and points the gun to the back of his skull. Ross starts to make sobbing sounds between trying to form words, begging for his life. He is suddenly “very sorry” for something.

  “Helena?” Chapel leans into the truck door looking at me.

  His eyes are pleading with me to do something to stop what is about to happen. At what point did I become the champion for J.D.’s targets? Someone seriously failed to give me the memo.

  “No,” Marxx’ deep gravel comes from beside me. His eyes are closed, and he seems paler than he was moments ago. “You two still don’t get it, do you? They knew. They knew what would happen. Ross did his job for them. Now he has to pay for us.”

  There was almost a sound when it all comes together for me. The pointless items on the list for us to get, how nervous Ross was this morning, how he did not want to leave the parking lot, and how he had refused to go into the back of the store but tried to keep me with him to send them in alone. It was never about our finding the items on the list. It was about the men finding the dead in the store and to see what would happen when they did.

  Marxx laughs a tired laugh, seeing it finally make sense for me. “J.D. won’t kill him. It’s not Ross he wants,” he says.

  “What does he want?” Aimes asks. She is her own shade of grey with her small voice weaker than normal.

  “For you three to come home,” Marxx tells us, as his fight is fading from him with the pain. “He wants you to see what they really are. We aren’t the only monsters, Helena. We are just honest about being ones.”

  Right now, Marxx looks furthest from any monster I have ever dreamed. He is pale and fading in front of me. His face is contorting from the pain in his arm. The pain my own pride has caused him. He had risked his life to save me from not only me or the Risen, but also from the people I thought were our new friends. He could have let me go to save himself, but he didn’t. He held on to me through the pain and the terror.

  Monsters do not do that. Monsters let you fall while watching the pain the fall causes. I wonder if they are watching us now.

  “You best plead to your pals, Ross. Not to me. I ain’t your pal.”

  J.D. smiles his soul-damning smile to the kneeling man before him. “You would have let us die in there. That was your job, right? Lead us to them? Take notes about what happened to report back to your pals here? Pals who sure don’t seem to give a shit about you now.”

  Ross is incoherent as he fights against the many words pouring out from him with his fear.

  “He almost cost us our own today. How’s that make you boys feel?” J.D. steps back, letting his words settle over the two men supporting Ross.

  He puts his gun back into its holster, signaling it is Lawless’ and Rhett’s turn to do as they will. He has given his blessing to do what they want with Ross. A priest’s blessing can save your soul for heaven. J.D.’s can torment it to hell.

  Lawless drops the arm he is holding, letting Ross droop from the sudden lack of support. He reaches into the top of his boot, pulling the hidden pistol from its hiding place. I should have known Lawless would never be completely unarmed. He makes a great show of undoing the gun, checking it for ammo before looking down at Ross.

  Every one of us knows he is aware of exactly how many rounds each of his guns are holding at all times. Every one of us, but those who are watching behind the wire patterned safety glass and Ross does not. He chambers the gun, letting the metal sound echo off the high walls around us. Every metallic snap brings Ross that much closer to panic.

  Lawless kneels down to look Ross straight in his face. “Tell me, how can we all work this out now?” he asks him, repeating what Ross had said at the Welcome Center.

  Lawless makes a simple nod of his head and Rhett understands the meaning completely. I wish he had not. My eyes can’t look away and my soul doesn’t want to watch.

  Rhett grabs Ross, pulling his head back with the leverage of his brown, shaggy hair. He forces Ross’ mouth open by applying pressure to his cheeks, threatening to break his teeth if he does not cooperate. The pain from the pressure forces Ross to submit, finally opening his mouth for him.

  Lawless shoves his gun barrel into the opening, forcing Ross’ mouth to open wider or risk similar damage. He stands, pulling Ross’ head up with the force of the barrel. Rhett is stepping to the side, away from J.D. and Chapel who are watching, and waiting to see how far Lawless will go with this.

  “Scream,” Lawless’ voice holds no more emotion than commenting on the weather. It gives his words so much more of a chill. “I want to hear you scream. I want your screams to comfort me tonight as hers will haunt me.”

  Ross looks confused by the request. He shakes his head not understanding, rattling his teeth against the metal of the gun.

  “Scream!” Lawless yells into his face. His rage is exploding finally under the release of its restraints. He shoves the gun further down Ross’ throat, tilting his head back further with the action. Screams and tears fall from Ross when he finally submits. Each scream is louder than his last. Each tear falls faster than his first. The courtyard fills until the sound is one long echo of terror. I am dancing on a tightrope with my emotions and the knowledge of the fact another may die from my actions. I should really come with a warning label.

  Marxx said J.D. would not kill Ross. He never mentioned Lawless wouldn’t. It’s the small words you have to be aware of in their secret life. A simple switch of a name and all promises are wiped away.

  A noise from the archway behind us pulls my attention to the mirror on the truck’s door. Shelia is running towards them, her face a visible testament to how their actions are affecting her. Like a spider in its web waiting for the prey to become trapped,

  J.D. is still and watching her run towards them. He had fun playing with Ross, now he has a better subject to use to taunt the people in the high school. Their Queen is now his.

  One moment he is relaxed and watching her, but as she grows even with him, he lunges and holds her in a backwards styled hug. He picks her up off the ground, spinning her in two full rotations as she screams, beating against his arms with her tiny fists. It encourages him, his laughter a strange sound to be mixing with Ross’ mumbling pleading and Shelia’s screams.

  He drops her, letting her fall to the courtyard’s hard cement floor, dizzy from the spinning. Kneeling over her fallen body now shaking with her silent sobs, he runs his hands over her shoulders and down her back. He lets his face show the male enjoyment of her skin under his hands.
His long, unfulfilled hunger is showing before us.

  “Where is your Simon now?” J.D. whispers into her ear, as his eyes scan the upper windows for any movement. “Now we can have us a party, boys!”

  J.D. pushes her forward, making her fall to her hands and knees and the forced position hints at his intentions. At least I hope it is a hint. Of all the sins J.D. can claim, never has one been rape. He has always told the other men of the club only the weak force themselves where they are not wanted. A real man doesn’t have to sink to such levels to strike fear. Fear is something to be flavored and drawn out. It should be the least expected, not the most expected of what a man can do. With this new dare for those inside the school, I wonder how much wiggle room he has left himself to carry out his bluff.

  Lawless made Ross scream for what felt like hours condensed into minutes with no response from inside. Shelia’s first real scream and the doors open with such force their hinges fight to keep them from hitting the stone walls. It makes J.D. smile his wide grin, pulling Shelia up and close to him.

  “There he is. Smile for him. Let him see that pretty face of yours,” J.D. says, holding her as she fights against him. He lets her sway with her efforts. It puts on a better show for the others to see her so distressed and held tightly against his body.

  Marxx is right, the ones he is holding now are not his targets. Shelia never was. Ross never was. What he wants is standing a few feet from him now. He wants their grief, their anger, their fear with not knowing what will happen next. He wants them to beg for his mercy as he feels they should have from day one.

  “Enough,” Simon says. “Just let her go.”

  “Just let her go, he says. Just like that he asks? Oh brother, I don’t think so. You and me, we going to have us a little chat first,” J.D. tells Simon, pausing to inhale the scent of Shelia’s neck. Feeling him so close to her makes her fight harder to be free.

  Simon’s panic is flooding his senses.

  “We can talk about whatever you want, after you let her go,” Simon says, stepping away from the door. He lifts the rifle on his side in a peace gesture, placing it on the cement next to him and with his hands raised he says, “You want me? You just let her go and I’ll come to you. A simple switch.”