Not wishing to startle her, Alan got ready to announce his presence, but she beat him to the punch, having heard his approach a ways off.
“Are you lost?” she asked, turning her neck to face him.
Alan took a quick look around and shrugged. “No, just felt like taking a little walk. It was getting stuffy in there; thought the fresh air would do me some good.” He slid his hands in his pockets and studied her. “You look immersed in thought. Am I interrupting something?”
“No, not at all.”
“Everything okay with you?”
Lauren sighed and grinned shyly. “Not really. But I’m fine, so don’t worry. It’s become the new norm for me.”
“Oddly enough, I think I can relate.” Alan took a few hesitant steps closer. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”
Lauren shook her head, her expression affable. She turned away soon after and sent her stare into nothingness.
Alan went quiet too. He spent a moment hunting for a segue, failing to locate one. “Well, I didn’t come here to bother you, I was just wondering where you’d run off to. I’ll leave you alone.”
“No, Dad, you’re fine. Please stay.”
Alan’s forehead wrinkled, indicating a yearning for validation. Lauren conveyed a fleeting smile and he accepted the invite. “I loved what your mother did tonight; it was a little over the top for me…lots of new faces and names to remember. It got hectic with all the handshakes, catching up and awkward hugging…I didn’t even see you leave.”
“I doubt anyone did,” Lauren said. “I sort of slipped out when no one was watching. I’ve never been a big fan of crowds.
Alan smirked. “Your mother informed me of that just a few minutes ago. She said I was no different, but damned if I ever knew until tonight. Guess it’s something we have in common.”
“You and I have countless things in common.”
“Yeah, I’m coming to that realization.” Alan harrumphed. “Damn. Listen to me…what kind of father says shit like that to his kid?”
Lauren giggled. “I only know of one.”
“Yeah, so do I. I’m hoping that’ll change someday, preferably soon, like before old age sets in. Otherwise, how will any of you distinguish normal, oblivious Dad from the one who’s going senile or developing progressive dementia?”
Lauren cackled again. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? Making fun of myself?”
“No, making me laugh,” she cooed.
“Oh, that.” Alan faked disappointment. “But I never knew I was so good at it.”
Lauren snickered and wiped her nose, sending him an endearing look. “You haven’t lost your sense of humor. You’re still a goofball.”
Alan almost looked proud. “Thanks for noticing, and thanks even more for telling me.” He sighed. “I guess that’s something, isn’t it?”
“It’s a start.”
Alan veered away from his daughter and evaluated their surroundings. He soon took notice of a crude crucifix made of sticks angling up from the snow-covered earth some feet away, the name Angel carved onto the crossbeam. A morbid curiosity dawned on him. “Lauren, where are we? What is this place?”
She took her time responding. “It doesn’t look like much, but this is hallowed ground we’re standing on. After what happened, I hated the thought of this place; I didn’t want to set foot anywhere near it. But I suppose time heals, and I got over feeling that way. It’s become…very special to me.”
Alan hesitated. “Who’s buried here?”
Lauren wavered and spoke with a quiver. “A little girl.”
Shocked at her reply, Alan’s stare left the grave marker and instantly fixed on his daughter.
“I never knew how old she was, but she couldn’t’ve been more than six or seven. She…died a few months ago. I met her and her mother on a trail a few days before; they were foraging for food. I didn’t know anything about her, none of us did; we didn’t even know her name.” A pause. “An armed faction that had raided the valley last summer attacked us again without warning. They shot up vehicles and houses, set fire to one, then came here to do the same. We fought off a dozen or more of them. Some had tried to break into the shed out back, and after the fight was over, I went to check on it. The little girl was inside with her mother, and the woman had a gun in her hand.”
Lauren paused briefly. “I tried reasoning with her, but she wouldn’t bend. She was callous and irrational and had no compassion to speak of. She was one of the types of people you used to warn me about. She pointed her gun at me like there was no other option…and that left me with one. I shot her…right in front of her own daughter. I’ll never forget the sound of her screams. But I’ll never forget what happened after that…it torments me to this day. And probably will forevermore.”
Alan’s concern and worry for his daughter were fully engaged. “Tell me,” he said, closing in on her.
Lauren’s lips trembled and her eyes welled. “The woman…she shot her—killed her own daughter, put a bullet in her head like she was nothing, right there in front of me. It was the most brutal, hateful thing I’ve ever seen; nothing could’ve ever prepared me for it.” A pause. “I’d only shot and killed one person in my life before then, and I did it to protect Mom. But I took the lives of at least a dozen men that day. I even shot that little girl’s mother…but for some bizarre reason, I didn’t kill her, even though I wanted to, especially after what she did. Sometimes, I think it’s my fault that Angel’s life ended when it did and how it did…I’m the reason she’s interred here.”
Alan put a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “No, Lauren. You’re not. What happened is her mother’s fault; the woman murdered her child. There’s no way you or anyone else could’ve predicted that outcome, so don’t you dare waste another second of your time beating yourself up over what might’ve been. Not one of us knows the future, and you only did what you knew was necessary in that moment. The decisions you made then affected what was most important. They kept you alive and safe.”
“That sounds like the old you talking.”
“That might be,” Alan said, “but old or new me, I mean every word.” A pause. “This can’t be easy to talk about, but I’m grateful and glad you’re choosing to open up to me. I felt beyond detached from you the other day.”
“You were my best friend growing up. Not because I wanted you to be, but because you chose to be. You demanded the truth and never once judged me over it, no matter how bad it was. I knew I could always talk to you about anything…I’m just a little off my game.”
“I think we both are,” Alan said, his shoulders slumping. “This is good practice for us.”
Lauren hung her head. “I know you don’t remember this. You took me shooting for my first time when I was eleven. I was hitting paper with your .22, and while reloading, I asked you if it could kill someone. You never sugarcoated anything and didn’t hesitate to tell me yes and that all guns were capable of killing.” She paused, looking away a moment. “I remember how it felt to hear that; it was reassuring, empowering, and downright terrifying, all at the same time.
“It worried me that a gun could kill someone all of a sudden, but you clarified by explaining that guns were inanimate and brainless and merely a tool. Killing is the act of causing death, and it must be carried out by decision or even indecision. I told you then that I never wanted to kill anyone…I remember those words as if spoken yesterday. Ever since you’ve been back, I can’t get them out of my mind…along with a million other conversations we’ve had.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren’s brows elevated. “Maybe because I’ve spent so long subduing my memories of you. But I think it’s mostly because of what I’ve done and…who I’ve become since you’ve been gone. I was a different person the last time I saw you. I’d never killed anyone, but I’ve taken more lives than anyone my age should ever have to since then. I know the whys and wherefores, and I know what I’ve done was just
ified. But you’re back now…and it’s all crashing in on me.”
“Lauren, I—”
“Let me talk this out, please,” Lauren pled, now nearing tears. “I want so much to blame you for this. You got me involved and started me on a path. You educated me and taught me how to think. You showed me how to look at everything and everyone differently, taught me skills and had others teach me. You readied me to make war with hell, Dad…and then…you never came home. This person I’ve become…you created her; everything suppressed and lying dormant was awakened by what you did. And now, I can never get those days back. I’ll never get my childhood or late teens back. I’ll never be normal again. And I want to blame you for all of it. And I’m sorry.”
A tear slipped down Alan’s cheek and crashed to the snow at his feet. He looked away into the laurel grove and beyond. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Obviously, I don’t know all the details. And I won’t know unless you tell me, and I’m hoping you will, eventually. It certainly doesn’t have to be now.” A pause. “But if I’m to blame, so be it. I’ll shoulder every responsibility…just ask yourself this; if I hadn’t prepared you for this world and you hadn’t become this person and acted as you had. If you hadn’t taken those lives…would you still have yours? Would you still be alive to tell me how you felt about all of this? Would you and I even be having this conversation?”
Lauren sniffled and shrugged. “I don’t know. You taught me to expect the least expected, that life is ridiculously unpredictable. And you’re right, there’s no telling where any of us would be if I hadn’t done what was needed or what I knew I had to. But it never used to bother me; it’s almost as if I took responsibility for everything, myself and the family, in your absence. In the short time you’ve been back, something’s changed. I’ve been hurting. I feel what I’ve done, Dad. If you only knew…God—there’s so much I want to get off my chest, but I don’t want you to think badly of me or hate me. I only want what I’ve always wanted, for you to be proud of me.”
“Hey, listen. It’s your turn to hear me out,” Alan said firmly. “I am proud of you. And I could never hate you, Lauren. If anything, I should hate myself for not being here. You’re feeling this way for the simple reason that I wasn’t, and dammit, I should’ve been—the entire time. I should’ve been here to defend you, protect you, supply and provide, but I wasn’t, due to my own shortsightedness. It’s always been my job to handle all the dirty work so you wouldn’t have to, and anything you’ve had to do—good, bad or indifferent—has kept you alive, making it necessary.
“Look, Dad is home, okay? I’m here now. Granted, not all of me is, but the memories I’ve lost are a small part of who I am. I am still Alan Russell and you are still my daughter. I never resigned my place as your father or the head of this household, and I’m hereby back to resume my post. You don’t have to be afraid, and you don’t have to hurt or be ashamed of anything you’ve done. As your father, I won’t allow it. Whatever we’ve done apart from each other from this point forward no longer matters. This family is together again, and nothing is going to change that. I promise you.”
Lauren closed her eyes and nodded, accepting his words in their entirety with approval. “I believe you, and I believe in you. And I pray you’re right, but you’ve been wrong before, like the time you told me you thought we were indivisible. You were way wrong about that.” She nearly snickered. “Being fair, you also said that if anything ever served to keep us apart, you would stop at nothing to find your way back to me, so I guess you were both wrong and right.” She locked eyes with him. “I never expected to see you again, Dad. And I’ve been so torn over what to think, one day waking up and writing you off and the next day believing you’d find a way home, and all the not knowing.
“I know I can’t go back, and blaming you for something you had no control over is stupid, especially now, after everything we’ve both been through. All those nights crying, begging God to find you, thinking you were dead, everything we went through, all the moves, all the dangers we’ve encountered and thinking the worst. You’re here and you’re in one piece and the only thing missing, the only thing you didn’t bring back are your memories of us. And I suppose, all things considered, that isn’t so bad.”
“Easy for you to say,” Alan jeered. “You still have yours.”
“Stop.”
“Sorry.”
Lauren hesitated. “I watched you gun two men down to protect Mom and me once. I never thought I would have to do that, until the day came when I had no other choice. You weren’t there to protect us, so I had to. It’s been like that ever since, until I saw you again. My dad came home. My protector was back. And for a moment, I got this feeling that maybe I wouldn’t have to kill again, maybe I wouldn’t need a gun anymore. Then I talked to Jade. She told me what happened to you guys on the way here, and I realized what I was feeling was too good to be true.”
“It was rough. We almost didn’t make it out of there.” Alan’s brow furrowed. “What else did you two talk about?”
“You, mostly,” Lauren said. “But our conversation got me back on track.” She gestured to the Glock handgun attached to her thigh. “I’m glad we’re reunited and I want this feeling to last forever. But the same people you encountered have made their intentions known here. They don’t just want to harm us, they want us dead. No one knows why, and I don’t care why. I won’t lie down and let them run us over. I’m not naïve; I know what has to be done. I know I have to fight, and I’ll do so as long as I have to, as long as it takes. But I pray for a day when I won’t have to. I want that day to come when I can put my guns down and won’t kill again.”
“Sounds to me like your heart is in the right place, and I also think that would be a very beautiful thing,” Alan said. “Hearing you say this tells me a lot about how your mother and I must’ve raised you. But I guess it’s good that I’m home, so I can fight alongside you. For what it’s worth though, I’m sorry I wasn’t around to keep the blood off your hands.” He paused. “God put me on this earth for a reason, to support, love, cherish, and protect my family, and that is exactly what I intend to do. So dry your tears, okay? Turn them into something else, because Daddy’s home.”
Lauren nodded her head and nearly beamed after hearing her father utter those words. She knew he’d done so inadvertently, unaware of how often he’d used a similar phrase with her in the past.
“That sounds like the Dad I know. It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to hear you say that…especially since you’re not exactly getting a total package.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Lauren rotated and wrapped her arms around her father’s waist. Alan reciprocated and pulled her into an embrace. “I love you with all my heart, Dad. But you have to promise me something.”
“Anything. You name it.”
“Don’t ever leave us,” Lauren said, her tone succinct. “More to the point, don’t ever leave me. Please. Ever again.”
“Lauren Jane Russell, not a chance. I will do no such thing. Not on your life. Or mine.”
The story continues in
The Heart of War
Expected release this winter
Cover reveal October 2019
Bonus Content
Enjoy the following excerpt from
Until Nothing Remains: A Hybrid Post-Apocalyptic Espionage Adventure (A Gun Play Novel: Volume 1)
By C.A. Rudolph
Until Nothing Remains - Chapter One
Salzburger Straße, Berchtesgaden, Germany
Friday, 21 March, 0815 Central European Time
Nihayat al’ayam minus 6 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes
The morning had begun not unlike any other, preceding a day deprived of obliging plans ahead. My outdoor Adirondack chair felt as comfortable as it ever had, and my only preoccupation at the moment was deciding what warranted most of my attention: the frosty stein of Hofbräuhaus Weissbier perched on the table inches away from a plate of half-eaten Weissw
urst, or the remarkable view of the snowcapped Watzmann in the distance.
Being perfectly honest, I’d never been able to avoid feeling captivated by the mountains here, not that I had ever put any real effort into doing so. They were breathtaking. I grew up in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, where the tallest peaks of the Appalachians extended to the four-thousand-foot range at maximum—mere foothills in contrast to the elevation and overall grandeur of the German and Austrian Alps.
Growing up in an area westwardly bounded by national forest and with a popular national park in proximity, much of my youth had been spent in the mountains: hiking, backpacking, and camping. The trails I’d traversed there had oftentimes been demanding, but not nearly so much as those I’d stumbled across in the Old Continent. Like most devoted hikers, I’d typically chosen paths that led to a payoff of some kind, such as a foamy, cascading waterfall in the middle of nowhere or a highly sought-after scenic overlook. The payoffs for the exertion put forth in the Alps? Much of the same, teamed with a slightly dissimilar, more delicious form of indulgence.
Within walking distance of our flat, one could choose from any number of trails and, minutes later, find oneself ascending a mountain to discover a local Biergarten waiting at the end of the journey. And, before hitching a ride on a gondola for the return trip, one could partake of the local fare in copious quantities, should one choose.
I’d performed this routine on sundry occasions in my time here. And, at least in my opinion, there was no experience in the world comparable to Bavarian beer-goaded insobriety after a day of high-intensity, sweaty mountaineering. In fact, I felt thirsty at the onset of thinking about it.
Indivisible Page 33
