The Risen (Book 1): Dawning

by Marie F. Crow

  “Let me just talk to them for a moment. I am sure we can all work something out that makes us all happy. OK?” He does not wait for an answer but walks forward with palms upright with hopes of safe passage 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.

  Rhett melts backwards to us. He never turns his back on Simon as Ross passes him, making it clear which male Rhett finds more interest in with one final insult to Ross. Leslie walks around Aimes and me using us as a shield between her and J.D. To her credit, she never glances back to be sure of their positions. We are separating into our own groups again with another imaginary line drawn.

  “We ain’t leaving without those bags.” J.D. tells us. The words cause the men to do some type of preparations, allowing Simon to see that 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, the tell-tale sharp inhale of breath, but otherwise, he is relaxed and waiting.

  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 where to obey, and where to question. Every day we are being tested under some new paranoia from J.D. with his constant threats upon us. My skin is growing thin with it all. My nerves are fraying, and perhaps Lawless is right, 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?” My voice is as hollow as my soul.

  “She has a point.” Aimes adds in her own voice, fresh with 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 of it all. Chapel’s eyes shine in solidarity with us while the others rest upon us, judging our words.

  “We make this place secure. We settle in here.” J.D.’s voice is once again serpent sharp. His eyes the blank pool of emptiness that holds plenty of meaning. Aimes is tip-toeing a line that 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!”

  He looks to me as if I am to blame for her new found backbone. I cannot 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 inch 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 peek-a-boo 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.” Something about my words makes Lawless do another of his anger testing sharp inhales as Chapel watches it all, silently trying to warn me.

  It is not only Chapel who notices the discomfort though. J.D. sneers in our direction with some twisted amusement. “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, being this exposed, 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 with more weight as the other males listen to his words with sincere interest.

  It is now I realize how little they rely on Chapel or his opinions. How very shy he feels around them. When did this divide grow, separating us all into our own little worlds, even 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 just as Aimes pointed out earlier. She and I exchange our own looks over their behavior and wait as the gears turn in J.D.’s head.

  His 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, that only they seem to understand, as Rhett and Marxx watch their silent codes. Their own private language of exclusion invented to speak across a room or side to side. 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.

  “Well alright. Let’s go plan us a sleep-over kiddies.” J.D. says with more excitement than his face holds.

  Aimes, Chapel and I trail behind the four men as our group navigates 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 is 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 that 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.

  “Well seems to me, that you’re the only real man here for your team. Hell, my girl has more balls than your boy there. Where do you think this will really land your team if we decide to play ball?” It is not really a compliment that J.D. has given me. It is a bus with a large horn. It just ran me over and it is slipping into reverse for good measure.

  Simon’s eyes lock with mine spreading that slow, masculine, fantasy-filling smile of his. “That she does.”

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

  “I’m thinking that also you may be the only real tough guy for your whole set up. That 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 southern drawl flirts into the conversation and it is Aimes and my turn to snap our heads around.

  Leslie is smiling her own style of blinding charm our way 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.
/>
  “Oh hell, no she didn’t,” Aimes whispers in my ear with as much shock at the woman’s boldness as with his reaction.

  “Someone must’ve totally just missed the zombie death machine a few moments ago is all I’m saying.” She says in a mock whisper letting it carry loud enough to those around us. “Maybe we don’t want to visit crazy land after all. There are some serious death wishes in that camp!”

  “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 in my soul. Silence may be golden, but it is one bitch of a thing to obtain.

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

  “Not yet, but give me five good minutes.” She tilts her head in her smile. She radiates sweetness with her “who me?” posture.

  “Any time Sweetheart. I’d be more than happy to play with ya.” His own 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. We have grown so used to being alone for so long. 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 motions for J.D. to step away with him, merging the two groups 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 of a 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.

  “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 of 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 a hint of 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 looks at our pixie with her catty comment still a smile on 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 laughter louder this time, forcing its reach to those around us.

  Lawless half glances over his shoulder with his mask of indifference fully secure again. The shift in body language is a cold shower to Leslie in her attempts of flirting. Anger fills her eyes in a blatant dare with me, causing my own body language to answer hers. Chapel is no longer even bothering with the pretense of a massage, but simply holding me to him, for whose benefit I am not sure.

  “Yeah, dicks are tricky.” Aimes says, staring at Lawless without censor of her emotions. She is ever the best friend.

  J.D. and Simon come to some hidden mutual agreement. It seems to be less than mutual depending on whose frown in which you put stock. Both struggle to allow the other to place commands, and suggestions, only confusing the rest of us in our rooted loyalties. Our many bags, plus theirs, are loaded into the truck by Ross, Aimes, and me while Chapel keeps watch over us.

  Leslie is Lawless’ new shadow. She follows him closely, never letting an excuse to glance my way slip by her. It makes Aimes whisper constantly “In her face.” into my ear with each battle line drawn like a devil on my shoulder. She whispers it with each lingering touch that Leslie places on the body I have thought of as mine for so long. She hisses it with each of his refusals of acknowledgement for me in his flirting with her. I think it with each smile Leslie is flashing my way.

  As their motorcycles are brought out, I stare at the surrounding area swept in the last of fall’s beauty upon the ground. It turns the hillside into a colorful scene as the leaves’ reds blend with the oranges to fade into gentle yellows. It resembles the flickering flames of warm fires. Even as the air bites with cold fingers, the ground holds the illusion of warmth all around us.

  It is amusing how we think of fire as comforting. Its bright light burning the darkness away and making us feel secure from the night’s dark secrets lurking around us. Its flowing heat sought after to provide warmth on freezing nights. Its crackling flames are used to fill our bodies with desire. We never see the possibilities of the destruction it can hold until it is too late. Until one spark escapes, stealing all we hold dear in a blazing defiance for our well-being. I watch as Leslie climbs behind Lawless, grasping his waist tight, and I pray the new fire we are each seeking will be gentle with us.

  Simon, Ross, Aimes and I squeeze into the length of my truck’s cabin. The men set both Aimes and me slightly uneasy at the closeness of the situation, or perhaps it is just Ross’ smile. It seems to grow when he is nervous, showing more teeth than before. Simon has become a locked chamber of emotions instructing me on where to go. I wonder if he is second-guessing all of this now that it is becoming real. The deep growl of engines tell us there is no turning back now. Not for Simon, and not for me, as I steal one more glance at arms resting where mine used to.

  CHAPTER 24

  We drive in awkward silence brought on by the close proximity of the cab. Even the beaming Ross seems stilled as each mile draws us closer to either a new victory or a new tragedy for both of our sides. Simon is taking us through back roads and winding countryside paths with clipped directions and added avoidance to our conversations. With no one to watch the show, the man that was so eager to flirt just moments ago, is now more of a pouting partner than a fondling flirt. We pass Risen even on these back roads in their statue states slowly awakening upon the noise of our arrival. Rhett doesn’t pass up the chance to toy with them in his twisted ideas of fun. He begins an obstacle course, swerving around and through them with reckless enjoyment of their disposal. It does nothing to encourage peace with Simon as we watch the show in the mirrors of the truck’s doors.

  “Are all of you crazy?” Ross is finally forced to give up his smile when Rhett cuts a corner a little too closely, almost becoming the toy himself. It would bring me a certain amount of glee to watch him drop his motorcycle now. Every man needs a little ego check.

  “No. Just Rhett. Hells here seems to be extra special touched in a “Hey Y’all, come watch this” style.” Aimes answers with her offhand flair. “Where are we going anyway?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.” Simon’s voice still holds that edge of warning and doubt.

  “You know, for future references, I prefer my surprises of the sparkly style wrapped in gold. Not so much a mysterious location with possible rotting people wandering around for that extra special welcoming committee touch.” She exaggerates the last part with false enthusiasm.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His flirtatious smile is back as he keeps his attention straight ahead on the road, searching for something. “There is a turn up here. It is pretty easy to miss if you’re not looking for it.”

  I am not looking for it. I am still watching Rhett as an excuse to stare in
the direction behind me. I am using it to watch Lawless and his new rider. I do not want anyone to know how they are destroying me as I watch. I use it to cover the fact that my heart is beating with each slide of her hands over his chest. That my stomach is clinching as her hands sneak to caress his inner thighs. How I am growing physically ill with his smile. Another room of my heart starts to close.

  “We should have buried Shaw.” Simon’s voice drags my eyes forward.

  “Who?” I ask not out of interest, but more for the excuse to distract me from the mirrors.

  “The one they killed. We should have buried her.” His voice is coated with regrets. I have a sense they are stacked deeper than just the one body we have left behind. “She was Leslie’s friend. We shouldn’t have just left her there like that.”

  “Yeah, she looks real torn up over it. I can hear her sobs from here.” Aimes is watching the same show in her door mirror that I am in mine.

  “We all deal with stuff differently.” Ross offers. I can feel his smile without even having to look at him. It is a dazzling white shade of a forming migraine.

  “Well, her path of healing must lie through her vagina.” She offers back, winning a new red ribbon from me.

  Even Simon has to smile with her observation that floors Ross into silence. It takes a moment to get used to the shock factor that is my friend. Her lack of filter is what I have always loved about her. She does not play any games or hold any schemes. She is just herself with no apologies for it. I am hoping that she and Ross are stuck together more often just to watch his smile choke from his face, because if he keeps that smile up, I will choke him myself.

  Simon is right. The turn is a sharp, hidden secret, and I have missed it. I slam on the brakes, scattering the riders behind me with my sudden stop. Reverse is a wonderful thing and I slam her into that gear, making her engine roar with the force of my backtracking. Her lights cast a red glow upon Lawless as I take up every inch of space between us. He never flinches in my dare, but Leslie’s scream is satisfying enough for me.