by W. A. R.
“What are we going to do? We can’t go back out there at night.” Shelly stated, standing from her position against the couch. Brian sighed heavily, and Miles felt something pull at his thoughts, making his nerves stand on edge. He shook his head, attempting to brush it off and focus on the situation at hand.
“I don’t fucking know, Shelly.” Brian ground out between clenched teeth. Shelly looked up at him, wounded and chastised. Brian hadn’t meant it, and she knew it, Miles knew it, but the man was worried, frustrated, and angry with himself for failing. Miles could relate to that feeling all too well. Miles suddenly grimaced at the pain that instantaneously roared in his head and in the pit of his stomach. He brought his fingers to his skull, wincing at the soreness from where the bat had impacted with the hard bone of his cranium. Then it all came together. He knew why the church kept coming back to him; he knew why it kept pulling him there. He cursed himself, unbelieving of how he didn’t catch it earlier. He looked at Brian, eyes wide in realization. Brian looked back at him and frowned. “Well, do you have any ideas?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Miles stood straighter, placing a hand on the doorknob.
“Just one.” He replied before opening the door and running out, closing the door behind him.
“Miles! What in the hell are you doing?” Brian all but shouted as he attempted to chase Miles to the truck. Miles vaguely grasped the concept that tensions were high, and that in his condition, he shouldn’t go out until he had rested and eased the pressure in his throbbing head, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“I’m going to find her!” he yelled back heroically. He released a loud grunt as Brian barreled into his legs, jerked them from under him, and propelled them both forward and face first into the dirt. Miles began coughing roughly, his eyes stinging from the dirt embedded there.
“You are not going by your fucking self!” Brian exclaimed before Miles jerked lose and kicked Brian in the chest, sending him backwards. He gripped at the grass to steady his dizzying mind and began to run. Brian grunted and raced back after him before catching him, gripping the back of his jacket and slinging him hard onto the ground. Miles looked up, spitting out dirt when he saw the crazed, desperate look in Brian’s eyes. Okay, they were on the same level, it seemed; both letting the emotions and events of the day overwhelm them into some macho-alpha-dog kind of contest; they were both angry, not at one another, but at the situation at hand. Brian started towards him, hands balled into fists at his side. “I don’t fucking trust you. I have no fucking idea who you are, and if you think for a second I am going to let you leave and bring attention to this house or possibly to her, you have a rude awakening in store for you.” he ground out. Miles grinned deviously at him before swinging, making a wide arc to the right. His fist connected with Brian’s jaw, sending Brian sprawling across the dirt. Dust was kicked up into the air now, making his lungs burn.
“That didn’t seem to matter earlier when you needed my help. Besides, I saved her when you couldn’t. You remember that.” He growled as Brian stood back up. Miles waited. He wanted Brian to swing, wanted a fight. After the past few months of loneliness, Michael, Carlos, the woman, and now the emotional rollercoaster he called a day was too much. He needed this confrontation with a real person, one of the few he trusted. Ever. Brian stood, and he saw the same things happening to Brian, and he knew that once this fight was over, they would be okay.
“You son of a bitch!” Brian growled, charging at Miles, knocking him to the ground. They began rolling across the ground, fists flying and making contact with any body part they could reach.
Brian leaned back and, straddling Miles, gripped his shirt and slammed his head onto the hard ground. Miles grimaced, grunting in agony, before reaching up and shoving Brian back. Miles scrambled to his feet and stood before punching Brian in the stomach. Brian grunted and doubled over on his knees, but only for a moment before standing and stalking towards Miles, both men were breathless, their chests heaving with every breath. Brian’s eye was swelling slightly, his lip split, blood dribbling down his chin. Miles’s nose and chin hurt like hell, and he could feel blood skim the side of his nose from a cut on his eyebrow. Damn, his head was killing him. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing. Suddenly, Brian stopped moving and looked past him, his eyes widening in surprise and shock and Miles felt a knife against his throat, and he wondered how long it had been there. The perpetrator jerked him, bending him backwards only slightly to accommodate their stance. The back of his head was pressed firmly against flesh, with no room for movement. Something hard and sharp settled against his skull and he swallowed thickly, looking at Brian for assistance. Brian reached back for his gun, and upon realizing it wasn’t there, gave Miles an apologetic stare before raising his empty hands in the air, palms out. He was trapped, realizing he didn’t have his weapons on him either. Slowly he raised his hands in defeat.
“One move and I will slit your throat and shove this screwdriver into your piss-poor excuse for a brain. Am I understood?” she said, applying slightly more pressure on both the knife and screwdriver. Her voice was hoarse and rough, and he almost didn’t realize who it was. He felt something wet and warm hit his cheek, and he grimaced, knowing it was blood. He attempted to look at her, but it was impossibility.
He swallowed, attempting to control his shock. With not one ounce of surprise, he smiled and addressed her. “Amber.”
Zeus licked Amber’s hand continuously, attempting to rouse her from her slumber. She released a pained groan, and reached up, cupping the side of her head. Zeus’s tail began beating against the side of the tank as he eased closer to her face. He rested his head on her chest, watching her wake up. She turned her head gingerly to the left, slowly opening her eyes. She felt fabric rustle beneath her and her head and back screamed out with pain as she tried to sit up. Zeus sat up as well, watching her scoot back against the wall of the baptismal tank, lowering her head into her hands. She winced against every thought she had, every one screaming in her brain. Her hair was a matted mess, dried blood flaking from her face and onto her hands. The silence seemed deafening, and almost never-ending.
After a few minutes, she felt her headache begin to ebb away and her extremely sore body began to loosen up. Easily she stood, tears springing to her eyes as her sore tight muscles stretched. The previous day’s events worked a number on her, the car crash topping off whatever ailments she already had. She looked at Zeus, who sprang out of his position and raced up the stairs, Amber close behind. She had decided to wait until the following day to gather her provisions from her car. She needed to find another vehicle, and she would have Brian and Shelly there with her just in case things got bad. She watched as he wound his way through a few pews that blocked the door and squeezed outside through a hole he had created in the crumbling door. Amber furrowed her brow in confusion. Now, when had he done that? She asked herself. She had only been asleep for a few hours, granted she could use a little more. She had been worried about going to sleep; worried she would not wake up. She knew she had a concussion, she was just relatively unsure of how bad it was. Very carefully she walked to the window and peered out of a crack between the boards.
It was dark almost, the sun settling into hiding behind the trees. Orange light from the sun reflected on the road and she winced against the light. She had been asleep for almost eighteen hours. Panic began to rise up into her throat and she forced it back. She needed to move, and quickly. She was supposed to meet Brian and Shelly at their aunt’s house. Hurriedly she ran to the baptismal tank, slinging the bag that she had found over her shoulders and buckled it across her chest. Worry nagged at the back of her brain, but, it wasn’t too far away and she could make it. She was glad she had decided not to go back for the car until the next day. Then she sighed and slowly began removing the pews from in from of the door. She began debating on whether or not she should tell them about Regina and George. She wasn’t sure she should, considering how heavily it weighed on her heart. Afte
r a few minutes of moving pews and the sounds of wood scraping against wood, she grabbed her screwdriver hand on the doorknob. She decided she wouldn’t tell them or anyone about it. It was her burden to carry; no one else’s. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could handle them looking at her any different. They were already going to wonder what had happened, considering that she was carless, blood soaked, and her mind was groggy. She was sure she could formulate an excuse before she reached them, and if they see anything unusual at the scene of the crime, she can always claim that her head injury offered her some form of memory loss, which is what she wished could have happened. Instead she slept the day away when she should have been meeting Brian and Shelly. She hoped they didn’t worry too much.
The sudden squeal of tires on pavement startled her, making her jump and she cracked open the door, glancing out towards the road. Zeus had hightailed it back into the church and was behind her. Amber could feel his tension, as well as her own, as she watched the tail end of what looked like a gray truck speed down the road that led to her aunt’s. She did not know that truck and she knew that Brian and Shelly had their own red Dodge and whoever it was, was hauling ass. They did not concern themselves with the possibility of Biters. Brian and Shelly would have been more careful. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and she swallowed hard. She needed to hurry and reach her aunt’s, just in case they needed her. Opening the door a little wider, she looked around for Biters, and when she didn’t see any, she whistled for Zeus and began towards the woods.
It wasn’t long before the sky opened and allowed the darkness to overwhelm her. Once the darkness had settled, she opted for finishing her journey on the road, where the light was a little better. She felt a chill run down her spine and shivered. Glancing at Zeus in the moonlight, she began jogging, and he picked up his trot to accompany her. At first, her muscles protested against it, but after a minute or two, she began to run, her momentum picking up. Her breath came in quick successions. She rounded a curve and saw the outline of the posts that labeled the driveway to her aunt’s house just up ahead a few meters. She picked up her pace, and within an instant her foot caught on something, slinging her forward. She skid across the pavement, landing on her elbow and her cheek roughly. Easing herself up, tears in her eyes, she heard Zeus growl and a moan echoed off of the trees. The backpack weighed heavily on her shoulders as she slowly brought herself up to her feet. She searched for the obstacle that had caused her fall, knowing already what it was. She saw the upper body of a Biter in the road, dragging his way towards Zeus. She cradled her damaged elbow to her chest and approached it. Kneeling down she shoved her screwdriver into his head. She thought nothing of the action, and that fact alone brought her sadness she never thought possible. Ignoring these thoughts, and turning her focus to the task before her, she quickly pulled her screwdriver back and gave a light whistle, slowing her pace to a steady walk as she surveyed her surroundings as best she could in the dark around her. She glanced down at her elbow as she neared the driveway and felt blood trickle down the length of her forearm, as well as down her cheek. She stretched it out away from her, wincing with every movement. Well, she thought, at least it wasn’t broken. She turned into the darkened driveway and froze as she watched two men fighting about 40 yards in front of her. What was the luck of coming in during a fight? She noted the gray truck she had witnessed previously as well as the red Dodge that belonged to Shelly and Brian, and she felt her heart pound against her chest. She couldn’t lose them too. She had to help them, save them, or at least die trying; hell, they would do the same for her, no matter how many times they agreed not to let emotions get the best of them. She quickly removed her knife, and turned to Zeus, ordering him to stay. In that moment she hoped that her sparring practices would benefit her, should it escalate that far. She very well couldn’t have him blowing her cover or risking anyone else’s safety. Ever so quietly she eased her way towards the two men, crouching down finally behind an old large oak tree in the front yard. They broke apart, scrambling away from each other, and she was looking at Brian, beat to hell and back, and was staring hard at the man before him. The man stood only feet away and she slowly raised herself to her full height, readying herself for what would come next. Quickly, she took two long strides and was behind him, pressing her knife to his throat. Brian stopped moving and after a moment, she realized he couldn’t tell who she was in the dark. He raised his hands above his hand, as did the man she held captive.
“One move and I will slit your throat and shove this screwdriver into your piss-poor excuse for a brain. Am I understood?” she said, applying slightly more pressure on both the knife and screwdriver. Her voice was hoarse and rough, and she bit back the impulse to clear her throat. She watched as Brian’s eyes widened in shock at the realization of who it was.
“Amber.” The stranger replied, more of a statement than a question. Amber suddenly felt uncomfortable and pressed the blade a little tighter to his neck.
“If you so much as swallow, you are bleeding out.” She ground out before looking up at Brian.
Brian seemed to come out of his daze just as the front door to the house slammed shut. “Amber, let him go.” He said softly, unsure of her motives or sanity. That thought alone hurt her feelings more than it should have. She was trying to save his life; she wasn’t out of her mind. He wanted the man he was just fighting with to be let go? Fine. She released him. He stumbled back away from her, rubbing his hand tenderly across his neck. He took a stand next to Brian, who continued to stand in place, dumbfounded. Amber replaced her tools, and shifted the backpack on her shoulders before looking behind her and giving a soft whistle. The pair of men watched as Zeus carefully eased next to Amber, growling.
“Easy.” She commanded, and the dog stopped, looking up at her. She suddenly staggered back from the impact of Brian hugging her. He began squeezing her shoulders in the embrace too tightly; her elbow and head began to pound from the pressure but she pat him on the back easily. So, he had worried after all. The thought brought a smile to her face. Her brother loved her. But the smile disappeared just as quickly when she looked at the man still rubbing his neck. Her breath caught in her throat. They stared at one another, their shock reflected in the others’ eyes. What was he doing here? She asked herself. He was alive? Amber was unsure of what to make of it, all coherent thought leaving her for those few moments.
She had often thought of him, wandered if he had made it, wandered many things actually, and now that he was standing here before her she couldn’t help but feel angry and betrayed. She stared at him, unmoving, and he returned her stare. She saw a yearning light in his eyes, and she felt the pull of it knowing that her own longing was betrayed in her own gaze. They stared at one another like this until Brian brought her back to reality. He was still squeezing her too tightly, and had now brought in her worry, feeling as if something bad had happened. She easily pushed him back to look at him, and Miles stepped up beside him in concern. “What is going on?” she asked as Brian swallowed whatever pain he was in and stood a little straighter. Amber knew he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him. Miles placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I think we should go in and have a talk.” He offered, and Brian nodded. Amber began unbuckling her bag, sliding it from her shoulders to carry in by the handle. She felt Miles grab the shoulders straps from behind her. She quickly jerked to him. “I’ll carry this.” He said softly before she could get a word in. She nodded hesitantly, not really wanting him to help her do anything, and began maneuvering out of the straps. He watched as she eased her right arm out of the straps very carefully. Brian looked worried, watching this as well, before he ran into the house, calling for Shelly. “You’re pretty beat up aren’t you?” Miles asked her, noting her darkened cheek. Was he trying to make small talk? If so, it wouldn’t work. After watching Brian go into the house, she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. She was angry and hurt, that much was obvious.
“He
ll yes I am beat up. Do you think I’ve just returned from a sauna? What are you doing here?” she ground out through clenched teeth, sarcasm and bitterness dripping from every word. He looked at her in hurt surprise as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and began towards the house behind Brian. He was unsure where her animosity had come from.
“Trying to help you.” He replied before opening the screen door for her, refusing to let her anger get to him. They were both tired and injured, and he was a stranger to her then; an unknown somebody in her comfort-zone. He had to just let it roll off of his back. He stepped to the side, holding it open so she could enter. She began up the stairs and into the house glowering at him.
“Fat lot of help you are.” She bit out before entering the living room. The comment hurt him, almost as if she were taking a personal stab at him. Quickly he brushed it off, simply grateful that she was alive. He wanted to hug her, to pull her close to him and revel in that which is entirely her, her breath, the flutter of her eyelashes, absolutely anything that reaffirmed that she was alive. Slowly, he stepped inside beside her, closing the door behind them. Candlelight danced around them and both Brian and Shelly were entering the living room with some random pieces of cloth. Everyone froze in place, their eyes riveted to Amber.