The Risen Series | Book 5 | Defiance

by Crow, Marie F.

  Aimes is sprawled across what was once thought of as an untouchable landmark of civil war history, right where a young man said she would be found. The sun stealing through the rounded brick archway warms her face, and with her swaying foot, she looks like the perfect example of leisure. She turns at the sound of my voice. Smiling one of her trademarked smiles. I’m almost afraid I asked.

  “Why aren’t you sitting on a giant cannon?” Aimes’ smile grows wider.

  “She’s not used to having that much power between her legs,” Rhett says behind me, before patting my head as he walks past me to collapse on a cot.

  Aimes makes a tsking sound and I know her reply is most likely going to be targeted at me and not Rhett, this time.

  “Whatever is between her legs is powerful enough to make her think she’s indestructible.” She smirks now, letting the smile become more of a taunt. “Love the new stitches,” she purrs.

  “Want them?” I mockingly smirk back.

  She’s made such comments in her frequent visits, annoying Paula more then keeping me company in my seclusion, and it still isn’t any more amusing than the last.

  “Nah, I’m smart enough to run.” Aimes sits up, stretching her arms high into the air above her. “I’ll leave the undead snack tray to you, but I am glad to see you’ve finally been released from your latest round of idiocy.”

  “Want me to find a window to dangle her out of? I don’t remember her being so cocky after her round of idiocy.” Rhett asks from his cot. He’s pretending to be asleep, listening to every word, and very aware of what’s going on, but asleep.

  “When were any of you going to tell me about Ginjer and Terrence?” I ignore his joke.

  Aimes spins, looking at the area around us. “I only see Rhett and me. Not sure who was supposed to tell you, but I don’t make those calls. You know, due to what’s between my legs.”

  “He picked his fate. It’s more than most of us will get to do.” Rhett doesn’t answer in any way which shows he is moved or phased by Terrence’s passing.

  “Ginjer?” I let the name hang between us.

  “We don’t talk about that,” Aimes whispers. “Trust me. Don’t talk about it.”

  Her eyes hold a haunted look. A look earned from things which should never have been seen. I take her advice, for now. I won’t talk about it.

  “Well since you love to gossip so much,” I sit down on the cot by Rhett, who automatically moves before I reach him only proving he’s very aware, “tell me what’s going on with this place. I seemed to have missed our grand arrival.”

  Upon hearing the magic word ‘gossip’, Aimes spins around to face me and fully begins to unload.

  “Well,” she begins with an almost twinkle to her eyes, “it’s some kind of fort. They seem to be run by a woman named Marigold. Her daughter, Torri, is their second. Then follow the family tree down. Marigold used to work here doing tours and stuff so of course, she knew all about it when everything hit the fan. She loaded up a few of her favorites, kicked everyone out of here, and then peed on the walls to claim it as her own.” She pauses to make eye contact. “I don’t mean that figuratively. Real hippie-like family.” She settles back on her new throne to begin anew. “So yeah, they have a few rules; most of which Rhett and Lawless have already broken out of boredom. They play so well with others, after all.”

  “Marxx?” I ask the newly self-appointed queen.

  “He plays even less well with others.” Aimes pauses, trying to think of how to fully explain it. “Remember Mr. Shepperd? Always walking around his yard, bitching to himself while throwing threats around about staying off his lawn or he’d kill you to everyone in the neighborhood? Which you were never really sure if he would do it or if he was just crazy, but you weren’t willing to risk it?”

  I nod, slowly and with caution.

  “That’s Marxx!” she exclaims, almost ready to clap over her comparison.

  “What’s Marxx?”

  Much to Rhett’s amusement, we both jump when we hear the very man we were just speaking about.

  “Went by to see you,” Marxx says, glaring at me as if I’ve already done something horribly wrong. “She said you walked out.”

  “Did you want her to crawl?” Making herself small, but vocal, Aimes settles back along the long line of the cannon.

  Marxx shares his glare now. “I want her to stay where she is safe.”

  Aimes extends an arm towards my direction. “She’s sitting with Rhett. What’s safer than that?”

  Rhett opens one eye to peer at his brother-by-choice to see if he will let his anger seep towards him. Marxx caves to Rhett’s bluff-calling with folded arms and his face close to a grimace.

  “Anything else about this place?” I ask Aimes.

  She’s more than happy to skip over the male drama and dives right into our new neighbors. “Well, they seem to think once you’re bitten, gnawed on, raked, or any other of the many things you keep allowing to happen to you, you turn into one of those things. They totally didn’t want to let you in.”

  I twist my face with the confusion of what she is saying.

  “Yeah. When Marigold ordered those on our boat to dump your body into the water, Lawless grabbed her and put his gun to her head. Luckily, she backs down easily.”

  “Why would they think that?” I ask those around me.

  No one has an answer. If they did it’s the various forms of shrugs in shoulders or facial twitches.

  “Whatever their reason, they firmly believe it.” Marxx offers. “Marigold demanded you stay in that hut with only Paula. She even kept the door locked.”

  “Law camped outside the door. Pretty much daring anyone other than us to come near it.” Aimes smirks. “He hasn’t made a whole lot of new friends.”

  “Is this our new little hideout?” I look around the little enclave they have claimed.

  Cots are spread along the walls, keeping their distance but still enclosed enough for protection. Various flannel blankets are spread across them with thin, filled pillows for cushions. Even being in such a state of depletion, I’m sure if I walked over to each one there would be some style of weapon under those headrests.

  The walls are a time faded brick red with what appears to be a mixture of oyster shells for a floor. There are tall, thin slits of windows, or spots, where cannons once stood. Their absence leaves gaping holes in the walls. Something one wouldn’t normally want in a place where walls are sometimes the only protection one can count on.

  I point to the obvious flaw. “How is that smart?”

  “The several miles and feet of water all around us,” Marxx says, as if I should already know this. “Seems they don’t swim, or at least don’t care to, once the boats escape them. There’s a few spots where the walls are completely missing.”

  “Doesn’t seem smart, does it?” Aimes asks, thinking of the same inevitable doom’s day.

  “Not really,” I agree.

  “Wanna know what else isn’t smart?” Aimes is pure joy waiting to answer her question.

  I roll my eyes and shrug, not willing to fall too easily into her verbal trap.

  “Look further down the hall and count.” Aimes almost giggles and the two men beside us make a groaning sound knowing where she is heading.

  Looking down the hall, I spot more cots. Nothing of any real hint as to what she’s giddy over.

  “Count,” she encourages. “Use your stitches if you have to.”

  Exchanging my own version of a middle-finger-greeting, I do as she suggests, minus the stitches part.

  There are ten cots spread along the hallway. There seems to be some form of grouping or at the very least a type of division. Three of the cots are spaced closer together than the rest, but at the same time, spaced further from the rest. Seems Peyton and Paula have gotten their wish. The dwindled number of cots holds my attention more than their spacing. What should have been a simple venture turned into a life-changing event, and despite what Chapel kept saying, I
know this time I’m to blame.

  “Don’t worry,” Rhett’s voice mutters, heavy with sleep. “We put yours far from Daddy.”

  “…and Daddy far from Lawless,” Aimes counters. “Hell, we put Marxx far from everyone.”

  “So, it’s going well, I take it?” My head already hurts thinking of how this has been playing out.

  No one answers. Just Aimes, and her signature Cheshire cat smile, fills the silence around us. It’s answer, enough. It’s the very answer which drains me of patience and hope for any type of resolution between our groups.

  Leaning further on the long legs of Rhett, I sigh with my frustration and Aimes doesn’t miss a beat.

  “Live. Laugh. Lucifer.” She smiles, mocking the once-popular slogan people hung along walls of homes before she dismounts the metal weapon. “It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go meet the crazies.”

  Rhett nudges me off him. “You really don’t want to miss the show.”

  “Show?” I stand, but I’m not sure it’s what I really want to be doing. The last group I woke up to holding a show was more than a high school, thought to be impenetrable, could hold.

  “Oh yeah,” Rhett smirks.

  Now I know I don’t want to be standing.

  “It’s audience participation.” Aimes is already walking away, leaving me to either follow or stay.

  I’m pretty positive I’d rather stay, but I always have to see for myself. I’m never satisfied until I’ve walked up to the monster and stared at it in its eyes, always ignoring the blaring warnings and living for only the self-sabotage I create.

  Following her, I’m sure I’ve made the wrong choice with how Rhett’s laughter trails behind us. Glancing one last time over my shoulder to where the three separate cots have attempted to hide in plain sight, I wonder where the two who are missing now sleep. Are they too hiding in plain sight, waiting to join my many other tragic mistakes? When they reveal themselves, will it be torment or torture?

  Chapter 26

  It’s not exactly a cafeteria. What once greeted and held visiting tourists as a lobby, has been overtaken to become a central gathering place. People sit among glass cases, which once held artifacts that have long since been looted. The velvet ropes which guided tours now guides lines towards self-serve food stations, which have yet to have been entered. I can feel Aimes watching me, waiting for me to catch on to something I’m missing, but I’m completely missing it. There’s something about her smile which makes me nervous. It’s the same smile she wears right before the fan gets turned on high and the shit flies everywhere.

  “What?” I finally relent.

  Her smile grows just a little larger. “What, what?”

  “What am I missing?”

  “Oh, that what.” Shrugging she leans against a glass-encased poster telling of the battle that took place here centuries ago. “You’ll see.”

  I don’t roll my eyes a lot out of habit. I roll them out of situations. Situations I seem to be habitually put in. Like this situation, right now, where I’m rolling them.

  Once again, I glance among the crowded room in front of us. It’s simple enough in its appearance. Nothing screams of warnings or any danger. There are no obvious signs of an impending disaster. The cultivated paranoia in me starts to wonder if that is the warning; the fact that there seems to be nothing amiss. Can things be too perfect?

  Looking to Aimes again for guidance, which in itself should be a warning, she whispers, “Notice anything missing?”

  Something Paula said earlier sparks my memory. Scanning the room again, I do notice a blaring oddity. Everyone here is maybe touching mid-fifties or lower. There are also no children under the age of five running among those gathered. The normal sounds of babies, or even toddlers, are non-existent, and with a random gathering of this size, those sounds should be bouncing off the walls.

  Aimes watches my face as the clues begin to present themselves. I’m just not sure where they are going and to what end they will form. The last puzzle I had tried to put together on my own wasn’t my finest moment.

  “If you say they are cannibals, I will just give up right now and take my chances back on that beach,” I whisper to her.

  She tilts her head with her thoughts. “Don’t get me wrong, the food here tastes a little off, but I don’t think that’s it. It would be refreshing though to deal with a type of crazy I could understand and maybe agree with.”

  “You could understand, and agree, with cannibalism?” I let the judgment spread across my voice as I’m looking at her.

  “Supplies are running low. Numbers are growing larger. People die,” she says this, as if it all makes perfect sense.

  “By the way, how close is your cot to mine?” I ask her.

  She responds to my question with a genuine smile of mirth.

  We watch in silence as the crowd finishes gathering. I spot my father and Peyton in the same shared restlessness. Genny stands between them, as they, too, seem to be waiting for something to start. I don’t see any of our men, and like the perfect best friend she is, she already has read my mind.

  “They don’t attend this. They barter and their food is brought to them,” Aimes answers in such a way, that results in more questions than explanations. Upon seeing my confusion, she tries again. “Around here, you’re only as good as what you can provide. Provide them different things, you get different rewards.”

  “What do you provide?” I hadn’t intended for it to be an insult or jab, but her sudden pout suggests it was.

  “Nothing. Which is why you and I will be entering that far line.” She points to the section where Peyton and his are waiting.

  “What line is that?”

  “The ‘thanks for not messing up so bad today it got someone killed’ line.”

  Aimes says this with such an attitude I can taste the bitterness of her words. I almost feel sorry for her. She’s always been protected, never really given a chance to prove herself. I can’t help but consider if we may have done more harm than good to our little pixie.

  “Is there a line lower than that? Considering my wide range of talents?” I ask, attempting to change her pouting to taunting.

  “Yeah. It’s the lake.” Aimes once again leaves more questions than answers, but she did at least permit me a small smirk.

  She doesn’t take my well-placed bait. Her soured mood leaks to all her features, staining her normally playful face with her darker thoughts. She chews her bottom lip, keeping whatever those thoughts are locked tightly behind her sealed lips.

  Having already burned my conversational bridge with Aimes, I weave my way towards the grinning Genny. She’s the only one of her group smiling upon seeing me. Peyton’s eyes don’t glow the way they used to upon my arrival. I don’t take it personally. I have that effect on people once they have been around me for a while.

  “We don’t talk about it,” Aimes hisses behind me, reminding me of her earlier rules.

  She knows eventually I’m going to talk about it, but for now, I nod and silently vow that it won’t be today.

  “Hi, Helena.” Genny is genuine in her welcome when we first arrive, but her smile soon wilts under Collin’s stare.

  Ignoring my father, as I’ve spent a lifetime doing, I return her smile. For a brief second her lips curl before she catches herself. I rest my back against the same wall as Peyton. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge or greet me. Aimes is watching the interaction like a bored house cat. She’s mentally taking note, but not showing any signs of recording it.

  I don’t take well to being ignored. Peyton should know this by now.

  “What landed you two in the non-useful line?” If I could sharpen my nails while asking, I would be doing just that. Instead, I just smile with my question.

  “Nice to see you, too.” Peyton returns my volley before Collin gets a chance. “Paula said you were healing well. I thought she was just in denial, but here you are.”

  “Here I am.” My smile doesn’t shrink.

>   “How many close calls is it now?” Peyton finally turns to look at me.

  “From my own cause or from not rushing to my safety while others are in danger?” My smile is still holding.

  Peyton doesn’t return any form of a smile. His eyes are a cold winter. His face seems to age with a weight he never thought his shoulders would have to carry. I won’t accept the award for the damage he is wearing. I won’t deny my part in it, though.

  “I hope we are as lucky as you seem to be,” Peyton’s voice is harsh, half-filled with his raw emotions that his nature just won’t let him explore.

  “Me, too,” is the only response I can form under his gaze.

  We both become distracted when seeing Genny waving to someone across the room. I watch as Paula returns a brief ‘hello’ before entering a different section. She meets my eyes before turning away in an almost shameful way.

  Looking to Aimes to once again guide me through this labyrinth of confusion, I arch one eyebrow. It’s enough to convey my questions.

  “She’s medical. Way more important than us,” Aimes explains. “So, she gets promoted to the line over there.”

  I shrug. “Makes sense. So why is she hiding?”

  “She doesn’t like the status. She doesn’t agree with subdividing based on some imagined social status.” Peyton’s lost some of his wrath, but he’s still frosty with his words.

  “To be fair, isn’t it all imagined?” I shrug with my question.

  No one offers anything in return. Whatever this place is, it’s broken every one of them in some way. This, too, should be a clue to what Aimes had prompted me to see. Even she, normally full of spite, and the vocabulary to share it, is demure with her responses. For the first time, I’m starting to hear the silent screams of a warning.

  I watch this seemingly lackluster group before me. They don’t have the shades of battle-hardened along their features. Their eyes don’t dart around the room from one too many nights of lost sleep and imagined sounds. They mingle freely, not restricted by fear or isolated for protection. Laughter and conversations flow casually around the room. They seem so helpless, powerless in their compliance. Yet, somehow, this place, and their people, have chipped away the hard-earned exterior of my family.