Now, as a majority of our bond-formed family is gathering around static screaming TVs and radios, we look to J.D. for answers. If this rag-tag of a bar-formed motorcycle club were to answer to a leader, it would be him.
His calm exterior is always holding back a force to fear that takes only a moment to ignite. His eyes hold the depth of someone always watching and weighing, not only your actions, but also your words. His stillness is not of nonchalance, but of preparedness. One spark and he could spring into action without hesitations, no matter the dark depth of the needs to obtain his goal. His smile could melt your heart or freeze your blood with only one space of wording. He could change the room with a simple adjustment of his body or face, making you always aware of him without really having to noticing him.
For most of us, he has become the Father that life has neglected to give us, with his strength that allows him to not only control, but also comfort such a diverse collection of souls. We form our self-value around his approval. He feeds us our daily bread of encouragements and our wine of confidence. Among all of us, no one is this more true for than our Lawless.
He and J.D. sit huddling together at a table, trying to appear calm in their whispering debate. With false smiles lingering in their conversation, they are attempting to reassure those watching. J.D. is doing a better job than Lawless. His eyes are darting too quickly from table to table around them, keeping notice of every motion made. The muscles of his honey-tinted arms are twitching with every sudden sound while he plays with the flame of his metal-encased lighter. The two of them are as confused and lost as the rest of us, but the only difference is that they are will not admit it. To do such a thing would unleash a wave of doom across the already nervous tensions of the people in the bar. We all go about the day as if it is a normal “open for business” situation, minus the bloody torn clothing, the silent stares, and the room-filling feelings of defeat.
Lawless’ deep brown eyes keep mine for short seconds of time. My heart drops with each connection at the depths of their sorrow staring at me. It is heart-breaking to see Lawless so broken. His boyish grin and one-liners sync well with his laid back attitude. He causes all those around him to smile and forget their own troubles when he is near. There is nothing he will not do for those he cares, and if the dare is big enough, for those he knows.
He flirts with Danger as if she is a favorite lover. He knows just where her breaking point is, but encourages her anew each day with ease. The sound of his Harley makes women melt from miles away just knowing who is rushing towards them on that blacked-out machine of his. I have watched married socialites primp at the roar and mock pose as he drove past them. At most, they only earned a smile or wink from him for their efforts. Life is a game for him and they played well together until today. Today life has broken the rules.
He runs his hands along the path of his dark, close-cropped mohawk as he stares up at the ceiling before sliding from their shared table. He comes in our direction, and even with the events around us, I feel the familiar stirrings within me as he slides over the bar counter with the strength of his body to support him. I fall into his arms, wordlessly seeking his comfort to the sounds of whistles around us. We are the favorite joke of the club. Even today’s horrors could not change that fact. Today though, his defined arms are trembling as they hold me close. His hands rest on the back of my body, pulling me in tighter than normal. As I melt into the heat of his body surrounding me, I know his mind is not with me. I am taking reassurance from him, but he is taking strength from me whatever chore for J.D. his mind is already running through.
“You done?” J.D.’s strong voice shakes us back to the world we so want to escape from together. I feel, more than see, Lawless pull himself together, slipping away from me slowly and reluctantly. The light from his eyes dims and his smile melts to blank serenity. He wraps both hands around my head and places a lingering kiss on my forehead before following J.D. out emotionless. Aimes and I both stand watching the two men that have become our universe slip out of the main bar.
We both have learned in our early days not to ask questions. No matter how loudly those very questions may echo in our minds. When I hear my voice doing just that, I am not sure who is shocked more by it. “Where are you going?”
“Disney World” J.D. answers slowly with a mixed smile of amusement and reprimand. “So why don’t you and Alice there keep the dwarfs happy while we are away?”
The door swings shut behind them, but not before Lawless gives me a wink so full with false hope my soul hurts for him.
“If I am Alice, who the hell are you?” Aimes turns to me with her mock anger expressed on her face.
“Since the dwarf mention, I guess I’m Snow White.” I shrug, filling another glass with ice.
“I can see it. He is not the most creative, but I can see it.” She smiled her signature smile.” I suppose we should just be happy he didn’t ask us to give them all rides with the theme park analogy he was trying to rock there.”
We both wrinkle our nose at the thought, causing a roar of disappointment among those sitting at the bar and the flow of joking invitations begins. The world may very well be ending but still the familiar male thought is constant. Under the mounted replica of the club’s grinning skull, we continue our games of flirting and pouring. Life goes on.
CHAPTER 13
“You sure this is the way to go? It feels wrong. Just, wrong.” Lawless’ dark jean-clad legs are holding his motorcycle in place as he lights the end of a cigarette. The glow burns bright from the first rush of inhalation. His black tee shirt clings to the many contours of his arms and wide shoulders under the club’s signature leather vest. The grinning skull upon its back is a little more fitting than normal today. Staring across the lot from behind dark sunglasses, he scans the area watching the shapes move around them. “Dunno man. These are our people.”
J.D.’s hand grasps the back of Lawless’ neck, bringing his focus roughly around to him. “Says who? How many of those in there do you really know? Huh? Gimme their names and we will save them all. Blaze of glory. The whole deal.” His voice echoes with the heavy acid of sarcasm.
“Look around you, Son. You see any of them big saviors heading in our direction? You hear any of those loud sirens screaming towards us? They have all left, Son. None of those big brave saviors left around here now. No, we are on our own. It’s just you and me to see this through. Whatever the hell is happening, we are on our own here. I am not letting a room full of weak willed excuses drag us down.” J.D. leans in close so that they are almost eye-to-eye with each other.
“We take care of those that care about us. You know that. The rest, well fuck ‘em. I never wanted to save the world and I ain’t about to now. You let me know when those balls of yours drop so we can do this. Those pound puppy eyes of yours only work on your skirts.”
J.D. lets Lawless go with a small shove before leaning back to his own motorcycle. Its chrome glares under the sun’s rays, mocking any need to hide from the world. He waits with a relaxed stance, finishing his own cigarette as if the other man has all the time in the world to come to a conclusion about the road they are going to take. There is no going back for him. It is just a matter of when they take the path ahead.
J.D. knows Lawless will do as he asks. He has become his right hand, not out of need, but out of respect that he has earned. Lawless knows the depth of J.D. like no other ever will. They have become so well tuned to the other that a simple shift of face or roll of shoulder can give answers as well as any vocal conversation. J.D.’s desires in life are simple. Keep the ones you love safe. Destroy the rest. With Lawless at his side, and the MC backing his actions, those desires have become that much easier to attain. It is one of those very desires they are going to conquer now. The knowledge brings a grin of anticipation to J.D.’s face as he looks to one of the few trusted men beside him.
Lawless nods as he starts his Harley, more out of male frustration from being called out than the belief in their actions.
He is still nodding as he takes one last glance at Grit before following J.D. out with his own echoing engine roar. His machine is lean and low profile, allowing him to easily catch and out distance his Father of necessity.
Their destination is one of future preservation for the club, and personal satisfaction for J.D. He always knew there would be a day for his style of reckoning for a well known man in town. He has waited, biding his time, looking for that perfect day to strike out. Now the world has given him a golden invitation with calligraphic script telling him just how to do it and he wastes no time putting his R.S.V.P. to the invitation.
It is not what they are about to do that is causing Lawless to pause. He has known this day was coming and prepared for the course they are about to take long ago. It is just another wound for his soul to heal and scar forever. He has lost count of the number of scars he now wears for J.D. It is the price for his friendship, his trust, and his love. Every piper has its payment.
The mere thought of having to leave those he cares for the most in the world unprotected is holding him hostage. J.D.’s plan is full of risks that could fall upon the two that have any chance of healing his soul. The soul that is depending on them for its very survival. It is only when lost in a world of their own making that he is at peace with everything he has done to please the man they all depend on.
Getting lost in a word of their laughter and perfume gives him a reason to push harder each day for their smiles. Without them, his world would rip apart at the seams, leaving only the void he feels when the darkness of night covers the world and leaves him truly alone. Even with the warning he slipped to Rhett and Marxx, there is so much that could go wrong. So much, that he is picturing a thousand ways to lose them. Each picture is encasing his heart more than the last with its truth.
His mind is still racing through the possible reenactments of what may happen when they pull into the parking lot of the shop. The next chapter looms before him; unflinching and waiting. It is as judging as the steel blue eyes watching him. They are both waiting for his fall out.
“You know the plan?”
“Yeah.”
“You know what happens if you fuck this up?”
“Yeah.”
“So what aren’t you going to do?”
Lawless stays silent. J.D. is not really looking for an answer. He is just making the point stick that the damage this will cause with its ripple effect if not done just right and Lawless is already well aware of the damage they have already done.
The bell does its sharp tinkling of sound signaling their entrance into the shop. Lawless, never removing his deep tinted glasses, steps in front of the man he has trusted his care to for so many years now. One foot following the other, as his mind falls blank, knowing what he is about to do. A silent prayer repeating itself is the only thought process to him now.
“Man, we are closed. I know you think you need a gun, but there are not enough guns to help you handle your shit in here. Not many have the balls to shoot their own families and neighbors anyway. Try the church, man. That’s what we all need now to get us out of this shit.”
A lanky man wearing his normal flannel plaid shirt jokingly tells them as he steps out from behind a stock room door. A moment passes before the man recognizes the men standing before him with their silent acknowledgment. A moment that costs him everything as two bright flashes spark before the pain tears through him.
They say the Devil laughs when he collects his debt. They speak of how he will tempt you and seduce you into taking the fall. They warn you that he will wait forever, watching and waiting for you. Laughter is now filling every inch of the store and it is the song that sings this man’s farewell.
CHAPTER 14
The sound of their motorcycles leaving the lot sends a wave of shocking disbelief through the room. The depleting sound sends most standing as if they can watch them leave through the thick walls. Some it sends deeper into their excited conversations. Most though, it just sends looking to us for answers.
With false determination to remove unseen spots, Aimes cleans the glass in her hand. “I hear Florida is nice this time of year.” Even as she is avoiding their gaze, I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
Her emotions open the door for others’ emotions, also. Emotions from those that have come here for help that are now left stranded without answers. Their confusion pours out like a flood around us. Some begin debating their next move, wondering if J.D. and Lawless are coming back or if they are taking the coward’s way out, leaving so many behind. Some begin to argue when such an insult is presented, as anger is always an easier emotion for men to admit to than the fears they may be feeling. The women sitting around the area begin blending further in with the walls around them as voices rise and finally the tension breaks. It crashes over the crowd in angry words and threatening innuendo-filling sentences.
The results cause some to slink out with fears for their own safety while others just leave soaking in self-absorbing worry about what is to become of them. Marxx and Rhett take up their normal mantel of enforcers, removing the most hate-filled patrons with glee. They strip the deserters of their vests in the process. Daddy might not be home, but his rules are still violently felt. No loyalty. No vest. No protection.
When the waves finally calm, it is just a handful of us left amid the debris from the storm. Rhett, with his smiling enjoyment of the fight, stands guard over the back door. Marxx stands with his silent glare at the front, daring any to attempt to come back. Chapel sits in a back booth. He has been watching the whole event while sipping on his frosted mug, never bothered by the drama or bothering to help stop it. He sat watching it all and now sits waiting for whatever is next with the same lack of interest. Aimes and I stand behind the large oak bar playing rock, paper, and scissors to figure out who gets to clean up what, with our own lack of care. Regardless of how each of us is feeling about what has just happened, we never would’ve wished upon them what was about to happen.
It is Bridget’s screaming that brings us running to the large tinted windows first, even as other feminine screams slowly join in her chorus. The monsters have found us, and they are surrounding the lot with shuffled steps and grunts of their vocal sounds. Glazed eyes begin picking their targets with eagerness, splitting groups into smaller numbers as they spread out towards their new victims. The loud noises from the many roaring Harley engines are acting like a dinner bell to their ears. Lines of shambling bodies form down the streets heading to the bar like a horrific Halloween parade. Long arms reach out, pulling people from their motorcycles, or the motorcycles down all together, as person after person falls to the walking nightmare versions of our town folk.
“What the hell are they?” Aimes whispers, staring out.
Chapel’s lifeless voice from behind us at his booth offers the first answer given to us all day.
“Their flesh will rot while they are still standing on their feet. Their eyes will rot in their sockets. Their tongues will rot in their mouths. On that day, they will be terrified, stricken by the Lord with great panic. Each man will seize the hand of another, and they will attack each other.”
“Did he just quote scripture?” Rhett’s forehead creases with his question. He shakes his head in amusement as his twisted sense of self continues to watch the window. “Is that what you think Chap? Last time I checked, when God wants us gone, he just washes it clean. Kind of like a final judgment deal. Not a survival of the fittest.”
All around us, it is the same as it has been all morning. Never-ending terrors that even the darkest of plots never would dare to imagine, surrounding us, sipping from our humanity to feed their survival. I am still not sure which is worse. Is it when the screaming starts or when it ends?
Both have their own signals for the events that are unfolding in crimson soaked colors. Is it what they are, that makes it so horrid? Is it their style of attacks, that make my blood run cold? Is it knowing what they do to those they attack, that makes my heart qui
ver with fear? Perhaps it is the truth of it all combined into one horrific package wrapped with a bright, shiny, blood-dripping bow.
“They are the Risen.” says Chapel drawing a long sip from his beer. “And it is what we will all become. One by one, until there is no one left but the Devil himself to walk this earth.”
No one has the voice to argue with him as we watch those that were sitting among us only moments ago being devoured before us. Aimes and I huddle together under the window, covering our ears from the remaining fading screams. Screams that will reach us no matter how deep of a sleep we shall ever again be blessed to reach.
“What the hell happened here?” The voice startles everyone in the room. Rhett and Marxx reach for their holsters reactively as they spin to face the back of the room.
J.D. does his normal chuckle at their reaction as he makes his way to us over the broken tables and the remains of many crushed glasses with Lawless behind him. We are at a loss for words as the two men who started all of this with such a simple act stand so calmly beside us now at the window. J.D. does not seem surprised to see that we are all that is left of the once filled room. He is eyeing the destruction with slight annoyance at missing a good show. I can feel Lawless’ guilt seeping from him like a wound, as he is watching the all too real horror show framed by the window. Each fading scream becoming another notch of failure he will wear forever upon his soul.
“You left!” Aimes screams. “How could you do that? You left and they all freaked out. Went total white trash talk show at being left behind. The only thing missing was a “who’s your daddy” moment to complete it.”
Her screams cause the Risen to pause. Slow hunting movements bring their focus to where we stand but the dark tinted glass used to keep prying eyes away protects us. Some stare transfixed, as if seeing their reflections for the first time. They stare confused at what is being shown back to them, cocking their heads left and right trying to figure out what is being shown to them. Others return to their previous victims with disinterest at what they cannot chase.
The Risen (Book 1): Dawning Page 6