The Risen: Dawning

by Marie F. Crow

  The interior of the high school is much the same color scheme as the outside. It is grey, dark and wonderfully depressing. No happy mascots of false cheer here to stare down at me with the secret knowledge of my sins. Shades fade from white to a silver-grey with a strategic process that refuses to form any real patterns but simple shading along the walls and tile floors. The tall windows are embedded with a crisscross-wiring of security, but the sun peers through allowing enough light to fill the hallways around the school. It is the only source of light illuminating these halls.

  “Depressing.” Aimes whispers in my ear, not wanting to upset Shelia with her opinion of what may become our new home.

  “Fitting.” Is my answer to her, unwilling to admit how happy I am for the lack of pastels.

  The stairwell is behind heavy steel doors that require Shelia to lean into them with the full weight of her small body to have them open for her. She smiles at us with a shy touch of embarrassment at that fact. Chapel reaches over her, holding them open for us with a simple return of her smile. His six foot frame easily supports the weight of them and allows her to slip under his arms. I bet he was always picked first to play London Bridge in school.

  “Thank you. Simon says I will be happy they are so weighted should we need the safety of them, but I can’t help but wonder about that every time I have to come up and down these steps.” Shelia’s dark natural skin tone hints at a shade of pink standing so close to Chapel.

  Each one of the men bounces the weight off their palms as they follow us through, judging the logic of her words themselves. Rhett chooses a different test and swings the door back onto Marxx with the full strength of his arms. He and Lawless skip ahead a few steps to distance themselves from the man who caught the weight of the steel door mostly with his face. Their laughter taunts Marxx as he does his own half run to catch up to them, intending to repay them for their humor. J.D.’s simple slide of his shoe with his turn to look at them is enough to stall all three of them in their actions. Their laughter dies, leaving only Marxx’ glare to mark the event. What naughty boys we have.

  “So how does that weight feel?” J.D. asks him with a dangerous smile that lets him know he is still watching. When there is no answer and the coughing used to disguise hidden laughter is finally through, he turns back to Shelia, waiting for her to continue with nothing more than his stare to let her know he is waiting.

  “We set up the living quarters on the top floor. It makes everyone feel safer I guess.” She leads on, but not before glancing one last time at J.D. before turning her back to lead us further. Maybe she is having second thoughts about that safety concept now.

  “Just what exactly is the top?” Aimes asks

  “The third floor.” Shelia responds. Her smile isn’t meant to mock Aimes, but it does.

  “Totally rethinking my shoes. How about you Hells?” Aimes raises her eyebrow to ask if I can make it. This is where I would normally point out my She-Ra status, but I hate to brag.

  “Nah, Barbie here is just fine. Hers are all broken in. Right, Girly?” J.D.’s voice snakes its way up my spine with its pitch. He is gaining a gold star today with the skill of his hidden threats.

  I do not answer him, but I let my eyes meet his with a silent answer. I let him know that I understand where he is heading with his hints and what exactly he is aiming to remind me before we are subjected to more public stares that will judge us. A thousand replies form on my lips, each with their own dosage of poison to be ingested, when Chapel’s hand gently touches my lower back taking, the sting from J.D.’s look.

  “Don’t give him the win.” He whispers in my ear, using his own long hair to cover his lips. It must have provided a different appearance of what he did by the sharp male inhale from behind us. Maybe that was what he meant for it to look like in the attempt to cover his dare of overstepping J.D.’s lead. In his mind, J.D. holds grudges longer than Lawless. Thinking of how quickly Leslie was able to slither her way in, I am not so sure about that logic.

  I let his hand guide me further up the steps to where Shelia is waiting with Aimes. Amusement dances in my friend’s eyes, confirming exactly what Chapel’s actions just looked like to those around us. Neither Chapel nor I try to deny or suggest otherwise. We allow them to come to their own conclusions and I smile up into his warm eyes, letting him lead me. Another imaginary line is drawn.

  Each level has a landing that opens before a sharp turn up to the next level of stairs. Tall windows repeating from the floor to the top of the next landing provide light for us. The levels all hide behind thick metal doors similar to the ones below. Shelia offers no hints or highlights at what may be hiding behind each set of doors from our questions. Her job is to get us “set up” here, nothing more. I wonder how it would feel to be so obedient. Does it come from a secure level of trust or a deep feeling of security? Does it come from her deep level of love for Simon? If any of these are true, what does that say about me and mine as we constantly live with J.D.’s noose around our throats?

  The third level landing is alive with layers of sounds slipping from beneath its heavy doors. Conversations of different pitches mingle with sounds of footsteps and even the pitter-patter of running. Laughter fills in the many pauses caused by lapses of words. There are sounds of children playing and I feel my mouth go dry with their laughter. Her laughter from my memories mingles with theirs, making my chest tighten with the sound of her voice. I am afraid of those doors as much as I am rejoicing in them. Feeling my nervousness radiate through me, Chapel’s thumb begins a slow, small circle on my lower back. There is an irony in the fact that the man they have deemed our weakest link is now my strongest rock. He will be the first man through these double doors while they stand back, having grown very silent behind us.

  Shelia smiles at me over her shoulder. She assumes my reaction is due to anxiousness to see what lies ahead. She does not understand our scar rule, so I just smile back. I am still smiling as she opens the doors and watches my face for the joy she must feel with their set-up. The pride she must feel at being able to hold on to something when the sky seems to be falling down around them. I smile, thinking of the cabin and how we felt back then. I understand her joy.

  The hallway is a long, hollow rectangle, keeping the placement of the courtyard in its middle. The many classrooms that double along each side have been converted into small apartments for those that now live here. The stairwell opens into a large sitting area with benches and many brightly colored toys are spread around in the space, attempting to encourage mingling with the many families milling around. Conversations slowly fade away as people begin to take notice of us standing here watching them. Replacing it is the hissing of whispers as speculations are forming as to who we are and the possible reasons for our arrival.

  “Yo.” Aimes says with a little wave, trying to break the awkwardness of it all. She fails. The whispering only continues louder than before. “Tough crowd.”

  “It has been a bit since we have added anyone. They will come around. It has been a rough morning with the possibility of Simon being gone. I am sure he will hold a meet and greet later after you have had time to settle in.” Shelia offers with genuine care for our predicament. I take note of the fact she doesn’t mention any angst over Leslie or Ross.

  “Color me excited!” Aimes’ false excitement causes us all to smile.

  “Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” Shelia starts to walk again down one of the long hallways, playing the perfect hostess. She smiles and makes small talk with the random people milling around as we make our way down the hall. They may hold conversation with her but they are silently staring at us.

  “Really?” Rhett asks. “We do.” His smile reaches all of his face.

  Shelia, with all of her love for Simon, still blushes from it. It only encourages him, allowing him to lean into her in a joking manner. A part of me knows that Rhett is not a flirt by nature. He will te
ase you. He will play along in any word game of your choice, but never one to openly flirt with strangers. It took years before the man would even acknowledge Aimes and me with more than one word or a stare. Now, he is dropping smiles on a woman he met just moments ago.

  One glance at J.D. and my suspicions are confirmed. His grin is one of approval, not enjoyment of Rhett’s actions. She does not know it yet, but she is now part of their game. A game I am sure is aimed at Simon for his disrespects to them earlier. An eye for an eye is the only game J.D. knows.

  Aimes and I share a look of understanding over their new plot. We both agree that we will only let it play out so far. Our reaching this decision to stand in the middle of their plotting, shows how far our group is rebuilding around a new rulebook. The days of us both smiling and nodding, along with being “his girls” at Grit, have flipped as simply as one would change the many months of a calendar and we are no longer the pin-ups for him to visually enjoy. Now winter is upon us and our souls are cold from the bitterness it has brought.

  “Soooo, where are we heading?” Aimes slides between Shelia and Rhett with complete innocence of demeanor. She takes the space between them completely, giving Shelia pause at the meaning of it. Aimes smiles at her, trying to put her nervousness at rest. I think the woman is just prone to nervousness. Wait until she sees the real Rhett.

  “We have some spare rooms up towards the end. I don’t know how you want to divide it up…” Shelia leaves off with her confusion over who goes where with whom. I don’t think we even know that little fact at this point.

  Conversation lapses the rest of the way to our new rooms with the question hanging in the air around us. Only Shelia’s glances, trying to figure out our many details, holds any form of a language exchange. We are all blank faces, making it a one sided conversation for her. Those are never fun.

  “Well, here we are. The desks have all been removed and small cots put in their places. The rooms right now have three each. I am sure we can find more if needed.” She does not try to hide her nerves anymore. We aren’t exactly shocked either.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’. We can do the math and figure it all out.” Rhett smiles again, letting it reach all the way to his toes as he rubs her shoulders. It works. She smiles before correcting herself, glancing at Aimes to express her apology for her actions.

  Aimes is not playing along anymore and Shelia walks away unsure of what to do to appease her.

  “Darling? Really?” Aimes waits until she is out of earshot to call his bluff.

  “What? I can’t be friendly?” Rhett has brought down the wattage of his smile back to his genuine mischievous look. “Maybe I like a little milk chocolate.”

  “Oh, just stop. I’m gonna be sick.” Aimes covers her mouth, and with the best acting skills, pretends being ill. “Just the thought of you being all romantic is super creepy. Like bloody valentine creepy. And a shoulder rub? Really?”

  “Wasn’t a virgin before all this started, Sweetheart.” Rhett cocks one eyebrow to match his smirk.

  “Yeah, but you weren’t dating them either.” She lets the words hit home, projecting her idea of his sex life.

  “Maybe I just never found a girl worth going a second round. Much less, one to make me want to keep her around afterward.” He shrugs at her, with the false feelings of loneliness, making his statement that much more comical.

  “Very romantic Rhett. Very.” Her eye roll is anything but false but still as comical. “Who is going where, and guess who my vote doesn’t lie with?”

  “The girls will go in one room leaving Marxx, Rhett, Lawless and me in this one. One of us will keep switching off to keep watch.” J.D. answers her, watching as the meaning sinks in. Chapel does not even flinch but stays blank. It is my turn now to come to his rescue. I am not sure how well of a rock I will make but I am going to try.

  “Have I ever told you, Chap, how I can’t sleep unless I have something to hold?” I let my body slide against his when I walk past him into our room. My voice lowers to that of a purr the years of working behind the bar has taught me. His eyes follow my movement with a heat I have never seen him hold before.

  “No. You haven’t.” His voice is thick. It fills the hallway with male hopes and needs.

  “Oh, it’s true. She is quite the screamer at night.” Aimes drops her voice to match his pitch, sliding along his back with her body, letting her words carry a double meaning to peak the needs of those watching us. “We just love big, strong arms around us to keep us safe and sound.”

  “I like to snuggle.” Marxx’s deep gravel seems out of sort with his statement, holding his own tone of male needs. Trying to picture Marxx snuggling brings a smile to my face, just as he meant for it to.

  “I guess you’ll have to take that up with J.D. He made the room choices.” I take Chapel’s hand and pull him into our room behind me. “Maybe he likes to snuggle, too.”

  “We can always find you boys Leslie. She seems to enjoy more than just cuddling in her cot.” With that, J.D. throws the final gauntlet to my bluff. I close our door before he has his proof of his new wound upon me.

  “I know how much that cost you.” Chapel whispers in my neck, holding me as I lean against the closed door. His large body is covering my own as he bends down to comfort me. “He is losing you and he knows it. He only knows how to keep them in check with fear and pain. You don’t fear him anymore, leaving him only one weapon left. He will turn you and Lawless against one another if you let him. He can’t let Lawless go. You need to be preparing for that.” He places a soft kiss on the top of my head before turning from me.

  “Dolph is kinda cute.” Aimes offers as her own eyes are showing the pain I am feeling over Chapel’s truths. Seeing her sharing my same fears and heartache allows my first tear to fall.

  We hug one another with the freedom being a girl allows us, supporting each other in this new chapter of our lives. Our pages are now plot-less with no direction or clues as to where they will lead us. We have both done what is normally a death sentence. We have crossed J.D., calling his actions into question, and he has made it known that our little group is in his sights. We now live in a dangerous crosshair of his attention.

  “We still have to go out there to get our bags.” I mutter into her shoulder.

  “I’ll get them.” Chapel stands from his cot where he has been watching the two of us. “Just stay in here until I come back. He won’t do anything with the others still around, Marxx wouldn’t let him, but I wouldn’t push it.”

  He kisses the top of Aimes’ head as he exits, trying to calm the fears that are coursing through her like a river. The door closes behind us with the soft reality of being alone.

  “Do you think it will get that bad?” She asks the air around us more than me.

  “No. I don’t. He would never admit to being out done by a girl and any actions he were to take would do just that.” I hug her, lending her my strength. “We will just keep on with this word game. He will try to hit us where it hurts. He will use the guys against us if we show him any weakness to it. Our best plan is to just avoid him until he comes around and he will once his male ego is appeased.”

  “…and what is it going to take to appease him?” Her fear forces her to ask the one question she’s fearing the answer from the most.

  “Me. It’s my pain he wants. My weaknesses. You have to let him have it. Don’t jump in. Don’t run interference. He and I need to play this out.”

  “….and Lawless? What are we going to do about him? How can he do this to us?” Her voice rises with her pain and confusion over his actions. The man we have given our hearts and trust to is turning so brutally away from us. It leaves us both raw from it for different reasons. I have no answers to comfort her, as I am as lost in this river’s current as is she. I am no longer trying to swim against its strength though. I just want to keep my head above the water.

&nbs
p; Chapel finds us still exploring these thoughts with his return. Her tears are still gliding along her face, making his tight with grief over seeing her this way. He tries to give us some silent communication but when we fail to grasp it in time, Lawless walks in behind him holding our bags in his hands. Seeing us both in the midst of our emotions, he goes cold and we separate, unwilling to allow him to be part of our pain. He never slows from the sight before him but simply follows Chapel to where the bags have been placed, dropping the ones he is carrying with the others. He exits with the same blank face and aversion to us, causing Aimes to slam the door behind him with her frustration of it all.

  “So much for not getting involved?” I ask her, waiting for the door frame to settle from the vibrations.

  “You said that was for J.D. This is a whole different ass.” She crosses her arms, further proving her feelings.

  I shrug, giving in to her judgment of the situation. Chapel tries to cover his laughter at her female angst, but ends up giving in to it. Hearing him laugh with such openness is contagious. Slowly we are each laughing, letting it release the emotions building inside us.

  “I feel like I could sleep for days.” I test the cot with the weight of my body, slowly sinking into the firmness. It does not give much under me, but my body at finding rest does not complain. Aimes pulls the other two cots close to mine making a good size bed out of them. Chapel fidgets, watching us with the realization that we may not have been completely bluffing with our invitations from earlier.

  “Easy big boy. We will keep our little claws to ourselves.” Aimes enjoys his discomfort, which makes him ripe for her playful teasing. “No rest for the wicked.” She says, tossing the sleeping bags to me to help spread out across our makeshift bed.

  We arrange the bags so that each is contained in their own space, but allowing us to reach out for comfort if we need it in the middle of the night. Of course, all of this Chapel watches from across the room, making as much space between us as possible. Perhaps he is rethinking the bluffs he also placed earlier. Is he still so eager to dare Lawless?