“What do you mean?”
“Just that men think women are objects to be fondled, fucked and discarded. It sickens me, and you know what, it was a man, a sick, depraved and perverted fuck that started this roller coaster for me. In fact, this man set me and Carey on the path that led to me sitting right here.”
“Rahab was his name, right?”
“No, no, this was before Rahab. The piece of shit I’m referring to was my old boss.”
John poured her another drink and pushed it towards her.
Lexi only looked at the glistening shot glass. The clear liquid looked inviting, but she withheld the temptation to drink. “You look at me and think you might know me, but I was a different woman not long ago. I was the typical Southern California blonde party girl with no real ambition or goals unless it led me to a rave, bar or house party. Looking back now, I wish I had prepared more. My life before was pointless and a massive waste of time. Anytime I encountered someone talking about being prepared, I gave them the standard eye roll. How could I have ever thought this whole fucking world would fall apart? Who knows this shit?”
“A few did.”
Lexi shook her head and lamented, “I really wish I was more prepared, maybe I could have saved Carey. And I made so many stupid mistakes and then there’s the bad luck,” she said, holding her head low. She pressed her eyes closed and exhaled heavily.
John felt sorry for her. He hadn’t lost anyone and his knowledge of the outside world was limited.
She lifted her head, grabbed the shot and poured it down her throat. Holding the glass in her left hand, she pointed it at John and said, “I can tell you this, I will never ever allow anyone, man or woman, to take advantage of me or any other innocent again.”
“That’s honorable.”
She shot John a look and snapped, “Honor has nothing to do with it.”
“So this former boss, what happened? What did he do?”
Lexi slid the glass back and said, “Fill it up and I’ll tell you.”
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_________________________
JANUARY 22, 2015
“The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.” – David Russell
Outside Bishop, CA
“Hunter! Hunter! No!” Gordon cried out as he tossed and turned in his sleep. His sweat soaked shirt clung tightly to his lean muscular torso and the white bandage that covered the slash on his face absorbed the building sweat from his brow.
Every night since witnessing the brutal murder of Hunter he had the same nightmare. Like a horror movie that replayed only it’s most grisly scenes his subconscious mind subjected him nightly to the same shocking and grotesque moments from that day.
The first time Gordon had his nightmare, Brittany tried to wake him. It took her that one shove to realize it was best to allow him to process his demons and that called for leaving him alone. She didn’t know what haunted him but she had a good idea. He had only shared tidbits of his past. She knew he came from San Diego, had been a Marine once and that Idaho was their destination. Having lost her husband to the barbarism of the new world she could understand why someone wouldn’t openly share the loss of loved ones because doing so brought back the memories of their passing. She didn’t want to relive it so didn’t press him on his past. The gold band on his ring told her he was married and the name Hunter made it clear he must have had a family. The fact that he was alone gave her the impression they were dead.
Gordon roughly turned and mumbled out loud, “Don’t do this! Don’t do this!”
She looked at him and frowned with sorrow because the pain he was experiencing was painful to watch.
“Don’t do this!” Gordon whimpered, tears streamed down his face.
Brittany reached out to touch him, but stopped short when her son, Tyler said, “Don’t, Mom, remember what happened last night?”
“Your right, I just feel so sorry for him.”
His dreams were tormenting him and when he began to shed tears a natural urge to embrace him came over her. She didn’t know him well, but her brief time told her he was a good man.
They had been together for four days and he only showed caring and compassion. Never once did he make a sexual advance and the way he was with, Tyler was great. He took time to engage him and showed a true desire to help.
Tyler was like Gordon. He had witnessed the murder of his father and it ate away at the young boy causing him also to have a tough time sleeping.
“Mom, is he okay?” Tyler asked from the soft but worn sofa that he called his bed.
“I think he just saw some bad stuff,” Brittany replied.
Gordon thought this best to keep everyone close as a precaution, so all three were sleeping in the same room of an abandoned house they had found the day before.
Not one to need a break he had to find a place to rest. The large cut on his face had become incredibly painful, to the point of making it difficult for him to do much. He tried to suck it up but couldn’t.
Brittany was supportive of the decision to stop as she could see Gordon was suffering and she felt his wound had become infected.
“No, no, no!” Gordon cried out.
Tyler got up from the old sofa he called his bed and came over to Brittany who was laying on a mattress tossed on the floor.
“Close your eyes!” Gordon cried out.
Tyler snuggled closer to Brittany who brought him in closer. Their eyes were fixated on Gordon as he shifted and twitched, his facial muscles contorting and his eyes rolling around behind his eyelids.
“He scares me a bit.”
She sighed and said, “I think he’s fine, he’s just been through a lot.”
“If he has dreams like this every night, we’ll never get any sleep.”
“You should try to sleep sweetheart,” Brittany said looking at her watch. “Honey, close your eyes, it’s five in the morning.”
“I can’t.”
“How about I rub your head, you loved that as a little one?”
“I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.”
“You’ll always be my baby; I don’t care how old you get.”
Tyler lifted his head and asked, “Why don’t you have dreams like that?”
She petted his head and replied, “Oh, I have nightmares too honey, we can’t judge him. Something very bad must have happened to him.”
“I feel sorry for him,” Tyler softly said.
“I do too,” Brittany said.
Deep in Gordon’s mind the images flashed of Rahab holding the knife high above his gentle and sweet boy. He could see his son’s beautiful face, his deep blue eyes and light brown, wispy hair.
“No, please, God, no,” Gordon whimpered just before the final image of his nightmare came. Gordon’s breathing increased as did his movements. His legs moved up and down along with his arms. “No!” he screamed out as he once again witnessed Rahab driving the blade deep into Hunter’s chest. Like an electrical shock to the system, he woke. His exhaled heavily and sat up. Sweat streamed down his face and he looked around the room. His eyes were wide as he scanned the dimly lit space and not only adjusting his vision but reacquainting himself to the present.
Tyler clung to Brittany tight but neglected to bury his face into her side for fear he needed to keep an eye on Gordon. Unlike his mother, he was weary of Gordon and after his experiences with the other men couldn’t come to trust a stranger, especially one who seemed troubled.
“You okay?” Brittany asked Gordon.
“Ahh, yeah, I’m fine, bad dream,” Gordon replied looking slightly embarrassed to find they were watching him when he woke. The yellow glow from a propane lantern bounced their shadows off the walls.
Brittany smiled.
Gordon wiped his brow and tried to return with a grin but his face was racked with pa
in. He grimaced and clenched his fist in anger.
Brittany noticed this subtle move and asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
“It’s just my face, it hurts really bad. I’ve had one injury after another. I can’t catch a damn…” he paused then continued, “Darn break.”
Tussling Tyler’s hair, Brittany laughed, “He’s heard those words before. Unfortunately my husband liked to curse. He’d spend so much time alone and speaking only to guys that when he’d return from long runs it would take him a day to adjust to family life. So, Tyler here would get an earful of f-bombs, d-bombs and s-bombs.”
“Men can have real potty mouths, that’s for sure,” Gordon said grinning out of one side of his mouth.
“Where’s your family?” Tyler asked abruptly.
The question hit Gordon between the eyes. He recoiled and decided not to go there.
Brittany squeezed Tyler and admonished him, “Hey.”
“Sorry, it’s just that…” Tyler said.
“If he wants to share anything, let him,” Brittany scolded.
Gordon gave them an awkward look and shifted off the question by asking another, “You have some Advil, don’t you?”
Brittany got up and walked over to a small bag. She opened it and pulled out a bottle of Advil capsules. “Here,” she said tossing it at him.
“Thanks,” Gordon replied catching it and quickly opening it. He poured six into his hand and swallowed them with a large drink of water. He reached up and gently touched his face.
Brittany walked over and squatted in front of him.
He pulled back but she leaned in further. “Just hold still, I want to look at your wound.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, your entire cheek, heck, the entire side of your face is swollen,” she said and reached towards the bandage.
He pulled back again.
She cocked her head, smiled and softly said, “It’s okay, Gordon, I won’t bite. I’m here to help you.”
Gordon looked into her blue eyes and could see truth there. He had already spent two days with them but after each nightmare, it would take him a bit of time to become trustworthy again. It was his choice to save them and their brief time together had only shown them to be nothing but nice people. Relenting to her request, he leaned towards her.
Using her fingernails, she pulled up the edges of the tape and began to pull it away from his face.
Days of sweat and grime made the adhesive gooey. As she pulled it pulled his swollen cheek with it.
Gordon grunted in pain but held steadfast so she could remove the soiled bandage.
It took her one quick glance at the first exposed stitching to see if was infected and badly.
The stitches were stretched taunt on the swollen skin.
When she removed it completely she bit her lip and flatly said, “As I thought, it’s infected.”
Gordon took notice of the lip biting and now knew it was some sort of unconscious habit she’d do when focusing on something intently. “Do we have anything?” he asked.
“Yeah, one second,” she said and went for her bag. She dug through and pulled out a small first aid kit.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I have to remove these stitches, clean the wound, and stitch it back up,” she answered.
Tyler grew curious about the small medical procedure and sat up. He scooted a few feet closer.
Gordon understood the boy’s curiosity and if he was going to learn the ways of the new world, he’d have to see just how to do what she was proposing. The question for him was she able to do what she proposed?
“Ah, have you done this sort of stuff before?”
She pulled out the suture kit and opened it. Wanting to display confidence she stopped what she was doing, looked at him squarely and replied, “Yes, I’ve done this before. Not a wound the size of that, but I stitched up my husband’s leg before on a hiking trip.”
“So, just that one time?” Gordon asked.
“Yep, that’s it, I’m not an expert but it needs to be done.”
Resigned to the fact she was right and that he could feel the swelling and the intense pain caused from the infection he gave in and stopped asking questions. “Do what you need to do.”
“Do you want anything for the pain besides the ibuprofen?”
“A whiskey would work,” Gordon cracked.
“Sorry.”
“Just do it, I’ll suck it up.”
She prepped the wound and talked as she went. “If it gives any consolation, I do sew and know how to croquet. Oh, and I’m fast, within reason and did I mention considerate.”
“Just get it over with.”
Taking a pair of scissors and tweezers she went for the knot at the bottom of the cut. Stopping just before clipping the tip she hesitated, “Now you’re not going to punch me or anything if this hurts?”
“No.”
“I’m not joking by the way, I’ve seen you thrashing and after trying to wake you before I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of your punches.”
“I don’t hit women.”
She winked at him and joked, “Never said you did, but sometimes people react differently to pain than others.”
A bit irritated, Gordon said, “Can you please just get this over with. My face hurts and I need this cleaned up.”
“Okie dokie, here I go and it’s best you don’t talk anymore,” Brittany suggested.
He nodded with his eyes.
Tyler crept over until he was an arm’s length away.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon watched him look at his mother remove the old scab crusted stitches. When one would tug at the skin or thick scab he’d flinch or blink heavily, but for the most part he took it all in like a first year med student.
With precision and care, she removed the old stitches, cleaned the festering wound, applied antibacterial ointments and sewed it back up.
Gordon closed his eyes shortly after she began and drifted into a meditative state with the hopes of finding comfort from the physical pain. It worked for the most part, but his mind quickly replayed the images of Hunter. For him there was no escape from the emotional pain of losing Hunter, but the anger sat just below it and it too festered. The hatred and anger ate away at him and when he was awake and able to control his thoughts, he’d consciously push Hunter’s face away and bring Rahab’s forward. He could not allow himself to forget Rahab. He needed to remember each detail until he found him and then only after he destroyed him could he move past and forget.
“All done,” Brittany said, a smile etched across her freckled face. She was proud of herself for taking care of Gordon. She had done one small stitch years ago but this was different. Someone needed her for their possible survival and she had been there for them.
After losing her husband she feared she may not survive but that all changed when they ran into Gordon and he handed her that pistol. Right then her destiny changed. She used that simple weapon to make herself equal with someone who was much bigger and stronger. She had leveled the playing field a little that day and now she was mending large wounds. Not getting to cocky but she was beginning to feel like a survivor.
Tyler didn’t look away the entire time and even asked questions. He wanted to learn and for Brittany that was important. Gone for him were the days of innocence, birthday parties and video games. He’d be forced to grow up fast and if he was to survive he needed skills.
She cleaned the scissors, tweezers and needle as well as her hands then put everything back in the precise spot of the suture kit and put it back in the bag.
“Well, how do you feel?”
“Better, but I still feel like crap,” Gordon replied honestly. He raised his hand and touched the fresh white bandage. His cheek was still swollen but it did feel better than before she cleaned it.
“Lay back, get some rest,” Brittany said.
He looked outside and saw the morning sun was mak
ing its appearance. Ignoring what she said he made his way towards the back of the house. He hadn’t relieved himself yet and the urge was strong. On his way he caught his reflection on a hall mirror. He stopped and looked at himself. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark. His face looked lean and the skin not covered by the bandage looked tanned and weathered. His face was covered with thick brown and gray stubble, with the gray more prominent than ever before. When his cut finally healed it would complement the other scars that graced his face. In fact his body was becoming a showcase of scars. It seemed the second he would heal, he’d get injured again. He wondered how much his body could take before it would finally break. Before the lights went out he would joke with Samantha that he felt old because his joints creaked and cracked just simply walking down the stairwell of their two story house. Now his body was in a permanent state of pain or injury, but his will to survive was strong. The only thing stronger was his will to avenge Hunter.
Back inside, Gordon strode into the room and said, “We should hit the road.” He then noticed they both were sleeping and deeply by the heavy sounds of their breath.
Brittany was lying on her side cradling Tyler in her arms.
Gordon at first wanted to wake them but stopped short of doing so. There wasn’t any doubt that his restless sleep was impacting them and if they were going to be good traveling companions he needed them tan, rested and ready as he used to say in the Marine Corps. Resigned to the fact he wasn’t leaving just then, he grabbed his rifle and took up a position near a large window that overlooked the front yard.
Looking out his thoughts drifted to Samantha and Haley. He wondered where they were and prayed Nelson was keeping them safe. Regret about his decision to leave swept over him but he pushed it away. It wasn’t that he believed they would be okay without him; he knew the risk but still did it. He stubbornly left his family in the hands of another man so he could go out and avenge another part of his family. Was it an easy decision? No, but one that had to be made he convinced himself. He knew how persuasive Samantha was, she was the master at communication and without any doubt she could talk him into doing most things. If he had returned he’d never be able to leave and the regret of leaving Rahab alive would haunt him forever. It had to be done the way he did it he thought. There was no time to wait. If he was going to catch Rahab before he vanished into the tapestry of the new world, he needed to go for him now. Each time his pragmatic side deemed his mission righteous his sentimental side would counter with one question, would his family be there when he returned? It was that simple question that struck him every time like a dagger to his heart.
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