I turn from them. One step at a time, I leave them behind me where my heart lays bleeding on the ground. He calls for me, shouting my name, but I will not stand there and let him see the damage he has done to me. I will not allow him to see the last piece of me break. He will not see the last fragment of a world I have been trying to convince myself is still here, fall away from me.
Even Aimes’ voice does not turn me around. She knew the pain that truth would hold for me. She was there every moment I fought against it. She knows how the sight of them together shreds me. She knows that my silent denial is all that has kept my hope whole. Lost in her own bitterness, and the need to wound Lawless, she has wounded me. Something I never thought would happen between us. I hear her shouts of apologies, and it does nothing to soothe the ache.
“Helena.” He is catching up to me, calling my name to stop me.
I refuse to slow for him. I am fighting to rebuild the walls they have demolished. He grabs for my arm to turn to him, but I pull free with the strength of my anguish. I know his strength well, and the fact that I was able to so easily escape his hold proves how worried he is to face my reaction and me.
“It’s not what you think.” He says to my back. His voice is pleading for me to listen to him.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.” I am not answering him to the extent that I am telling it to myself. I pull open the door to the store nearest to me, feeling too exposed to feel this weak in the open area. I hold the hope that the narrow store will help me collect myself. I did, until I hear him behind me again.
“Talk to me. Please.” His voice is fragile with his pleading.
“Leave me.” I tell him, refusing to give in to my pain.
“You know I won’t.” I feel his fingertips gently touch my hair, carefully coaxing me to turn to him.
“You already did.” I answer him with the full poison I have been storing for him in pretty mental bottles. I feel his touch fade with my words and he gives me my desire.
The door shuts and the hinges seem to be connected to my knees. I sink down with the closed door under the weight of my pain. Alone, finally, I can allow my grief to escape. It pours forth from every locked door I have kept shut. I relive every moment he and I have spent together through the years; from our laughter to our pain, our first touch, our first kiss, and our whispered shared dreams. I feel his arms around me from when I was scared and alone. I know his scent from when he would shelter me from the world. The songs he used to sing me to sleep with, now haunt me with their melodies. The loss of my Angels devastated my soul. Losing my Lighthouse is devouring it. I am broken all the way down as I kneel here on my knees. My tears leaving wet marks on the dirt covered floor better than any blood I could spill for him. I know he will be my last failure as I feel my soul retreating into the safety of the darkness.
CHAPTER 35
They are all waiting for me when I leave the store. Their faces show different levels of concerns and I know they have been told of what has happened. Lawless and Aimes sit together on the ledge of a store window watching my exit. Their faces mirror the others with their sorrow and I cannot help but think how wonderful it is for my pain to bring them together like this with my salt-filled ocean of bitterness for them. Aimes stands as I exit the store, heading towards me with her face covered in her dried tears and fear over the words she let fall like acid rain. I turn my back to her, facing the man we have all turned to, to lead us when we are in our darkest hour, because no one understands the darkness like J.D. does.
“What’s left?” I ask him. My voice is rock bottom with emotional weight. I am wasting no energy to fill it with anything less than nothing.
“Just one store left.” J.D. stands, placing his arm around me, leading us away from the group. He does not leave me stranded as my fire goes out. I have come full circle from needing him, to hating him, to needing him again. He does not gloat or acknowledge the truth of us as the rest of the group weakly falls in behind us. I have come home to him in my hour of need just like he always knew I would. I am the Daughter he never had and all I want right now is my Daddy’s arms to hide me.
The last store is worse than the rest. Its windows are covered in a thick film from being exposed to the elements for so long with no care from any cleaning. Trash is piled so high in front of the door that J.D. has to kick it away to clear a path for us. He holds the door as we enter until it is Lawless’ turn. He walks in front of Lawless and Aimes, blocking their entrance, letting the door close behind him. I do not want to smile at the act, but I do. The look Chapel gives me for that smile tells me I should be filled with shame, but I am not. J.D. pats my arm as he walks by, further demonstrating his support for me and my smile widens.
“Nice vest.” I whisper to Chapel, letting him feel the irony with his judgment of me.
“Should be in the back.” Ross’ voice fills the store. “I’ll just wait here with Helena.”
Yes, because my day has been so wonderful that I want to finish the morning alone with Colgate here. I let J.D. see my opinion of that offer with my face. He chuckles, turning to Ross with a wide smile.
“I don’t think our girl wants to be alone with you. She can come with us.” He tells Ross, who grows suddenly restless with the idea.
“It’s a small back room. She’ll feel more comfortable out here.” He tries, almost desperately, to make me understand the need to stay here. I am in no mood for any more male drama though, and to prove my point, I walk past them all to the back room. I am not a weak frail girl that needs their protection. One exposed moment over Lawless does not mean I need to be sheltered from a dusty back room. I plan to prove that, not only to Ross, but to the rest as well. One day I will learn to think before I act. Obviously though, today is not going to be that day.
Two things happen as I walk through the door in front of me. The first is Ross screaming the word “no” and the second is my screaming of no words at all. In my moment of pride, I have walked right into a room full of Risen. There are so many in the room that they are able to circle me in seconds, blocking the door from being opened again. The sight of me stirs the ones closest to the door quickly. The excitement then spreads through the room like a ripple in the water, as each ring slowly turns to me.
They have been deprived from food for so long that their faces and bodies are gaunt and deceptively fragile looking. The clothes that once fit perfectly, are now hanging, barely holding on to the many sharp angles of their bodies. The deep-sunken eyes before me become alive with each step closer. The sounds filling the space around me lock my voice with fear. The sight steals my breath with dread. The smell stirs my stomach with terror. Death once again has come for me. I have cheated him from his prize so many times before, and as I look for an exit, I feel his cold hand finally upon me.
Male voices are screaming my name on the other side of the door as they push against it. Their force is only pushing the Risen closer to me with how thick they are in the room. The only weapon I have on me is the hunting knife that I have kept this whole time. Suddenly, it does not feel adequate enough for what is creeping closer to me.
I am afraid to move, or to reach for it, with the fear it will signal their frenzy. This many in such a short distance will destroy me in moments. If I wait too long to reach for it, there will not be enough time to defend myself with whatever slim chance I may already have to live through this. I know I have to get my back to a wall to help protect me, but with them circling me, I do not see any way to reach one. That is until I watch the door.
Each shove from the men on the other side pushes the rotting forms a little more off balance. The Risen have not begun the attack yet because their starved minds take longer to animate their bodies. They stumble against the force of the door, almost tipping from it. If I can get the men to push hard enough, I may be able to use that moment of confusion to at least reach the wall. The rest, I can figure out then. My mind is screaming in panic with the failure rate of my plans
so far. I take self-doubt to a whole new plateau.
“J.D.” I gently call out to him, refusing to scream. I watch the bodies become still in front of me with the sound of my voice. Their eyes are swaying back and forth, staring at me with their confusion. It is unnerving to be in the middle of so many that are now so focused on me. Their slack faces showing their thoughts as they try to gauge my next move.
“Helena?” He calls from the other side in the same whisper. The hope in his voice touches a part of me that I thought was dead for him.
“I need you to shove the door as hard as you can. It will put them off balance enough that I may be able to reach the door.” Heads are tilting now as if they understand my words. Their minds are racing to sort the vocabulary meanings the words hold. I feel like a parent trying to spell out a gift in front of a young child with prayers they won’t catch on. It won’t be a holiday that is ruined if they do. It will be me.
“May?” He chuckles, but it is not out of amusement. He just does not want to voice his fears with so many depending on his strength on his side of the door.
“Yeah, it may. It may not. Anything is better than standing here waiting to be attacked.” I give him my honest truth. It does not comfort either of us.
“On three.” He says. He holds as much faith in the plan as I do. I am in a serious need of new cheerleaders.
“On three.” I return, cementing our plan.
“One.” My hands reach for the blade. A room full of eyes follows the motion, pulling their faces into sneers.
“Two.” I brace, ready to run. Growls erupt around me with my sudden movement.
“Three.” I run as the door swings open. I run straight into the rows in front of me. They reach for me, welcoming me to them. Death is cheering in my ears with my suicide as fingers grab me, pulling me to them. As the first few mouths come close to me, I fear he may finally earn his prize.
A female’s bone-sharp fingers clamp down on my arm, leaning in with her pure hunger at the flesh of my neck. I can feel her wet saliva dripping on me. The chill of it removes any self-confidence, rooting me to the floor. The smell of her triggers my fear; it answers in a scream that excites them. Their voices rise with mine. I feel her teeth touch my neck and I scream for him. I scream for the only man I have ever screamed for in my life. His name is torn from me with my fears, forgetting all that has happened between us.
Lawless answers me, pushing hard against the door with his own heartbreaking fear at my scream. He would always come for me; he told me that once. What feels like years ago, he told me he would never leave me. He is calling to me, even as we both know, he cannot reach me but he will not leave me alone. He told me so. He will follow me to Hell. He told me so.
The force of their desperation finally reaches the Risen around me. The teeth of the woman slide across my flesh as she is pushed by the rows behind her. Her tumbling knocks her into the one beside her, who slips, releasing his hold on me. It creates a small pocket of space between them. It will bring me deeper into their formation of death marching soldiers, but closer to the door. I turn into that space, pivoting from her to pull my neck further away and using her own disadvantages to free me. My arm slips away from her as I push backwards into that small space with their howls of rage surrounding me. As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear this evil.
Their continued pushing against the door gains it more of a swing with each shove. I time my movement with that swing that is knocking the many soldiers around me off step. Seeing their first meal in so long escaping from them, the other half of the room is now rushing forward. It only causes more confusion in the room with the many movements tilting them back and forth with the chaos. The small room seems to grow by miles with all the motions and sounds around me and each backwards motion I huddle through.
I collide with the wall and sink down to make a small ball of my body. My hands tremble, barely able to hold the knife before me, as I wait for the Risen to find their hidden meal. They do. I see them crawling towards me using the same space I escaped through. For such frail looking creatures, they crawl with the speed of a toddler on crack and I laugh with my mental thought. This is the moment where I know I have finally lost my mind, so it does not surprise me to hear Ashley in my ear.
“Scoot over.” She tells me. Her voice sends shivers through a deep part of me that I keep locked away. The world slows around me as I watch Death racing for me and I hear what I allowed Death to take from me whispering in my ear.
“I can’t.” I answer her, looking into those blue, blue eyes. She is sitting on the floor beside me holding her knees to her small body. Her soft pink pajama shirt is shredded and torn with wounds oozing dark fluids in the spaces of the missing cotton. Her arms are a series of lacerations that suck the fabric into the gaps of flesh around them. She wears my sins upon her body like a Beauty Queen wears a sash and her crown is the perfect blonde shade of her hair that separated us in my parent’s love.
“You can. You have to.” She is staring at me without any emotion. I am looking at her with enough emotion for us both.
“I don’t want to.” The truth of my words cuts me and frees me at the same time.
“You have to. They need you.” Her voice is so gentle. So gentle with me, considering what I allowed to happen to her.
“You needed me.” I say to her, watching the Risen grab at my legs with numbing calmness.
“Yes, I did.” Her own truth cuts me even deeper than my own. “Scoot over, now.”
I feel a soft touch on my arm with her final words. I turn my head to see Marxx reaching for me with his fear and desperation racing over his face as Lawless is straining to hold the door open with his body. He is stretching as far as he can to reach me, but surrounded in my own fears, I had not seen him or heard him screaming my name. I only need to scoot over for him to grab me and help me from the room to safety. I look for Ashley, but I know before I turn, she is gone. She does not need me now. They do. Just as she said.
I scoot across the wall, kicking at the face of the man trying to bite me with my already battle worn boots. His broken nose coats my leather in his thick blood, with each kick reducing his face further into ruins. Marxx’ hand grasps my arm tightly, almost painfully, in his desperation to reach me, helping me slide up the wall so that I can wedge past Lawless and the door frame. Inch by inch I slide along the wall kicking and shoving their bodies from me. Their desperation for my death animates them to such a level of activity that one moment of lost awareness for them will cost me my life. I am almost out when Death demands its pound of flesh with his own desperation and refusal of my escape.
The same female that had come so close to my neck has found Marxx’ extended arm. I notice her too late, but he saw her. He just refused to let me go. He watches her bite into his arm that is still pulling me from the room. We scream together as she pulls back, tearing the flesh of his arm with her teeth. Blood soaks her chin, running down her neck, with her mouthful of him. Her eyes close as she chews, showing her enjoyment of it as more of his blood runs down her body. His blood washes her clothes the way his flesh washes her face in ecstasy.
He never lets me go as his wound is dripping heavily onto the floor. He tries pulling me from the room when the shock of what has happened locks my knees. My name is being shouted by many voices, yet all I can see is the female in front of me now that we are face to face. I cannot let her live now. My fear is rolling into anger as she chews with those closed eyes of hers. They open, sending me in front of her. They are now bright and fully awake, and I am grateful she will see what I am about to do.
I kick her knee, smiling as I hear the bones snap, tumbling her down in front of me. Her head looks up at me with her anger riding her features. It pulls her lips that are ruby red from Marxx’ blood, back to expose tinted teeth. Lifting my knife, I smile at her one last time. The blade slips in with no more resistance than thick cardboard with my rage. I watch her eyes go back to a glazed state as life f
inally leaves her rotting body. Bracing against the wall, I kick her face from my blade, shoving her back into the arms of her brethren who are still fighting to reach me. The joy the sound of my blade separating from her thin flesh brings me should fill me with horror, but that was before. Horrors are hard to find anymore with truth doing so much evil on its own.
“Are you happy now?” Lawless asks, still fighting against the door with his strength. He grabs me, roughly pulling me through the door before I can debate the answer, letting it slam shut behind him when he moves. The noises its closure causes could be the soundtrack of Hell itself with the many demonic fists pounding against the wood.
Marxx is on the floor with the rest of the men rushing to him. Except for Ross. Ross is standing with Aimes in the far corner, safe from it all. They refuse to see what lays bleeding in the middle of the room. If it is weakness or guilt, I don’t know. Either way, they both make me angry with their sought out seclusion from it.
Chapel and Rhett are trying to stop the bleeding with the many shirts they have pulled from the hangers around them. Their hands are covered with blood and it continues to seep through despite their best efforts. Their love for the man before them escalates their fears, rushing their movements as his blood coats them, staining them with the warm, red proof of their loyalty.
I walk to Aimes, grabbing her overly large purse, searching within it for what we need with mental clarity from some depth I am not aware of having. I pull a pastel-pink wrapped square from inside the purse before tossing it back to her. I refuse to acknowledge her in any other fashion. I do not have the time to ease her fears or anxieties. For once, the room does not revolve around the pixie.
The paper refuses to cooperate with my shaking hands. I whimper with my frustrations and my need to help Marxx, the man who has risked his own life for mine. Lawless takes the package from my hands, leaving me still frozen with the movement of holding it. My mind wants to shut down, too much has happened in too short of a time, but I fight against it. There is still too much to do. He takes it to open it for me as we head to Marxx and the many crimson soaked pieces of fabric piling up around him. God told them to paint their doors with the blood and they would be spared. We keep painting the floors and have been spared nothing.
The Risen (Book 1): Dawning Page 22