Gary's Trilogy (Book 3): Still Myself, Still Surviving (The Retaliation)

by Marlin Grail

  However, the pain it could inflict would be very real and present.

  Now I know why he calls himself Claw.

  I shouldn’t be troubled or made timid by it. I have longer range than him. Yet, in my weakened state, I know my mobility is significantly compromised.

  I never thought I could ever feel this exhausted, this inept to do something as simple as limp in a circle while we gauge each other’s predictable movements. It feels like anytime I make an attack with either my arms or legs, it’ll be slowed, drained—the equivalent of doing the attack under water.

  He’ll have the ability to quickly make up for a missed strike. Whereas I feel like I’ll be a tank. It’s not a positive comparison.

  “Make your move,” he invites. Is it bravery or foolishness?

  I’m afraid we both know the answer to that.

  I pick up on the stress his throat goes through, because every scratchy aspect of it is easily picked up. This represents we’ve closed our gap significantly. Focusing on his claw for too long made me subconsciously forget to pay attention to where his feet are.

  Now, I’m in proximity for a plunge to his chest.

  He welcomes it because he’s confident I won’t survive.

  It feels like this fight is at its climax before it’s even begun. We’re at the distance that was exactly how close we got when we first met.

  Too close for comfort.

  It’s at the same distance where we stood eye to eye at that very first time. Now this is the farewell point. He reached out to me in the beginning, and he wants me to be the one who reaches out to him in the end.

  This. One. Strike. Counts.

  Chapter LXII

  I go for a false follow-through swipe at his left side. I do this in order to misguide him, thinking it’s all I have left in my tank. He eludes me with a duck to avoid the strike, but it’s countered by my own intuition.

  His claw goes for an open-palm uppercut, like a tiger’s. Only I quickly lean back as far as my body will let me. I wobble a bit off balance, but it’s okay.

  The opening is still visible.

  I go for that side again. This time his left swing is fully extended upward. I’m mentally prepared to see blood squirt when I stick it in his rib region.

  While the full motion is here, suddenly he’s not.

  He skillfully spins on his heel. His whole figure’s off-center where I would’ve bludgeoned him. Right when I connect back to assess his position, I receive an immediate backhanded blow to my face with his right.

  The after effect on my skin is unforgiving.

  The leverage from the back of his claw isn’t enough for its spikes to impale, but it is enough to deeply scratch me. I feel the icy-hot etch along the right side of my face. My vision blurs, but thankfully it doesn’t take my sight away completely.

  He got you!

  My natural reaction is to shield the side of my face, and forget where I am entirely. I simply worry about how much disfigurement he had to have wreaked.

  I’m not given the chance to let one digit wipe off the blood splattered in my eyelashes. The next thing I know I’m swept off my feet as I fall helplessly onto my back.

  He’s gotten you! Again!

  My head impacts against the ground. Hard. Now my vision is completely blurred. I toss and turn to get back up, but success doesn’t come. Claw has me pinned with a foot to my chest.

  The fight has ended before it ever really started.

  “Well, well, well. I told you this before, but I’ll say it again. You just didn’t want it bad enough.”

  Overwhelmed and in absolute agony, the last thing on my mind is to bat him away with my sword, because…

  It would be pointless.

  He’s too fast, too skilled. Too intact to be stopped. I can’t take any more damage from him, so I won’t swing knowing he’ll just evade, and likely mutilate me further.

  I can’t believe this is how it’s going to end. Regret is what I have left.

  Everyone, I’m sorry. Lissie, Janice, Ashton, and Will. I’ve let you all down. Not only that, but my life may be the only way to make up for all of those deaths I was unintentionally involved with.

  Jacob and Mitchell. The RPG carrier. Those killed at the Fort. That boy, Alex. Trey, and his people, including all the others killed in Cheyenne…

  “Just end it.”

  Gunfire remains farther down the landfill, no longer at full volume, but pressing on. That’s why it’s startling when one shot, one lonesome blast from a single barrel goes off within range of us.

  The bullet goes off in dramatic highlight with Grim’s first shriek. At least, it’s the first vulnerable one I’ve ever heard her capable of having.

  Then, comes more recognition.

  Claw is capable of bleeding.

  Chapter LXIII

  A tiny hole penetrated through him. It’s not the only hole I see form from one frame to the next. Two more fire through his chest, and I feel the pressure from his foot release me.

  It’s my enemy that crumples. He hits the ground on my left.

  He’s the embodiment of all things evil and I’m watching him choke on his own blood. I watch this person’s eyes flare in disbelief that he’s been murdered. Furthermore, there’s disbelief in the faint remaining life force that I’ve been saved.

  He mutters on a loop, “N-n-n…”

  There’s a twitch coming from his right hand. His claw fingers spasm. I topple over him when I turn myself over onto my stomach. It’s a means to use his body to aid mine in rising.

  Words come out from his wheezy throat, like a squish toy. It’s thin, but gives me goosebumps nonetheless. “F-f-‘e her. L-l-lower p-paw ‘it.”

  What do you mean by that?

  I’ve barely any time to process his words, because I must process who saved me. That’s when I see her.

  Lissie.

  Lissie stands on the trash pile where Claw and I tossed away our guns. Both of her hands hold firmly on the one I had, but she lowers her aim after the gazes of relief we give one another.

  It’s over. Claw is dead. C. is no more.

  Realization pounds through me. This is the instant when I turn away from Claw’s body. I’m magnetized towards her.

  I’m not the only one who’s heading there though.

  “Lissie!” I punch a finger at her, desperate for her to turn around.

  Grim is hurrying over to Lissie. Her long strides put Grim on a collision course with her. As quick as the two of us were to recall she’s still present, it wasn’t fast enough for Lissie to stop Grim in her tracks.

  Neither does Grim stop her train on impact with Lissie. She dives into her, and the two of them fall.

  Move, Gary!

  That’s when I realize just how exposed Lissie was. Any one of Casey’s men could’ve taken Lissie out. In fact, I’m surprised it didn’t happen. Perhaps, it was from shock that their leader is no more. Or maybe because Grim didn’t give the order.

  I don’t know the reason. What I do know is Lissie’s a target the longer she’s out in the open like this.

  I grunt and growl at myself to limp faster, using my sword as a walking stick. The two of them wrestle on the ground, and I feel I’m the referee about to break them up, and drag Lissie to safety if I have to.

  I don’t trust that woman not to fight dirty. She’ll definitely give the order to fire if she feels she’s losing.

  Grim yelps and tries her hardest to disarm Lissie, but LIssie is tough. She doesn’t cave into Grim’s desperate hands. Once she finds an opening, she strikes Grim in the face with her head.

  That’s my girl. She doesn’t give up so easily.

  Having a compromised field of vision colorizes every jitter of my head. I grow nauseated quite frequently with every broken step. It doesn’t matter. I keep pushing because I feel that this heavy silence is about to be broken with gunfire.

  Once again I think of us as fish in a barrel. This kind of vulnerability feels awful.


  I barely make out Lissie triumph against Grim. She rises back up and over. She’s a pristine queen who fought like one, and that motivates me to keep going towards my love.

  Stay moving, Gary!

  Lissie soon has Grim at gunpoint. Grim appears to be pouting—in her unstable way—bashing her fist against the trash she’s sprawled on. “How dare you!” she incessantly screeches.

  Grim’s tongue seems to knot up once I finally hobble my way besides Lissie.

  “How dare us survive?” There’s spite and disbelief in my question. I know I shouldn’t waste my limited time talking to her, but Casey’s lack of firing makes me believe he’s still waiting for Grim’s command. Talking might be the only way to buy time.

  It’s something I should’ve done in the first place.

  Odhran paid with his life because of my impatience. I refuse to let Lissie do the same.

  “Had we married, you would’ve saved me!”

  Lissie pulls her pistol’s slide back. It pops out an unused bullet from the chamber, but another takes its place. “You bitch.”

  “Lissie, wait,” I say with a hand extended to her. I see shadows moving above us, as well as around. Casey and his men on high. Hannibal and his men down below. Our allies’ spread tells me they’re getting in position to fight back.

  We’re all in the crossfire.

  There’s only one thing left to do. Once it happens, Casey will betray his hand. He’ll either melt away, and leave us to our fractured peace. Or he’s going to throw everything he has at us for betraying his queen.

  Soon you’ll know.

  I bend down to one knee to meet Grim at eye-level. It hurts when I do so, but Grim deserves the laugh she has.

  Because it’s going to be her last.

  “Why would you think I could save you?” I ask softly.

  “Because…because you wouldn’t try to change who I am.” She baffles me and Lissie with this answer. Grim continues on as though we fully grasp what she means. “I’m okay with who I am, but my Adam, the one you just killed over there, was ready for something different. He argued that he ‘loved’ who he remembered, before our changes began.”

  Her eyes get a faraway look. I can almost see sadness. Almost.

  “Well, that old me wouldn’t ever be remembered by people like I have been. You’ll remember me for what I am and have done.”

  I can’t bother her with my disgusted face, because she isn’t disgusted with herself. She’s sharing her honesty. I nod with acknowledgement, but not acceptance.

  “You know what? You’re right. I’ll remember you, and I’ll remember what C.F.O.G. has done.”

  I will remember, because that’s all you are. From here on out, you’re a memory.

  My blade stabs deeper into the gravel as I violently lift up. I wished Grim hadn’t been so fixated on me. If she’d been satisfied with Claw, with her life, then it wouldn’t have ended like this.

  Gary, you know you can’t force your viewpoints on others. She’s responsible for her decisions. Not you.

  Logically, I understand. I still feel regret though. All this death—what was the point? We should’ve been united against the undead, humans helping each other to succeed—not to form hierarchies. Not to abuse our powers.

  You could’ve ended up like them, like her.

  My mind shies away from the thought, but I can’t shake it off.

  Just like I’m making this choice, Grim made hers.

  I glance about me, seeing that Hannibal’s men are staying in their new positions. It’s time. I give Lissie a single head nod. No more words are exchanged. She knows what I wish for her to offer.

  Lissie gently places the pistol in my hands.

  And I take aim.

  Chapter LXIV

  I am dutiful in my accuracy on where my aim should be positioned. It’s positioned to go for a straight, clean, shot to the head, but I risk it by looking up.

  Dusk paints the sky above. There are too many dark streaks to take away from what should be a complex but beautiful arrangement of blues and oranges. The major color my eyes zero in on are the streaks.

  Pure, translucent, black.

  Grim, you’ve became something else. Like I have. For me, I’ve become a prioritized murderer. I was able to label myself as just a defender of my people. But I need to do this. For me.

  And perhaps…for her.

  BANG!

  The single bullet adds to the carnage suddenly sounding within the atmosphere. It indicates why we shouldn’t spend much time here, out in the open, after the echo of the discharge.

  Casey and his men finally open fire.

  Every bullet that goes off further down this landfill is equal to the possible death of someone else. Someone like Grim. Someone like me.

  Someone like Lissie.

  I grab her, and we run.

  Chapter LXV

  I didn’t think I’d find any other possible issue to argue with Lissie about, but it’s the part of me which selflessly wants to help everyone that I can.

  “You need to recover,” she insists. Somehow we managed to avoid getting shot. Currently, we’re taking cover behind a sizeable trash pile.

  “Casey and his unit won’t subtract their wounded from the battle, as long as they have a pulse.”

  “That’s their weakness!” There’s a stressed squeal in her pitch. It rises as I try to politely shrug her off of me. “They don’t care about anyone but themselves! I care too much about you to let you go towards the fight!”

  Three of C.F.O.G. lay lifeless in this landfill.

  Hannibal and Casey are shooting it out.

  A handful of persistent undead are tumbling down the slope.

  They were rewarded for slipping through the destroyed truck container. So while nothing’s left for either of us here, I can’t migrate without having a purposeful destination.

  It isn’t a place or time to rest, but to fight.

  It’s not over yet. In order to respect Odhran’s sacrifice, and to preserve what’s trying to be destroyed, I can’t rest. Not until I know not another bullet fires from the woods this evening.

  “Lissie, let me go.”

  “Why must you be this difficult?”

  She’s irritated with me, but isn’t forgetting how misplaced it is when she keeps gasping, upset by the wound on my face. I hiss when she keeps trying to touch it. Her feisty response only proves her claim. “You see? You’re in no condition to fight anymore!”

  “Am I supposed to just be okay it’s out of my hands?”

  “To stay alive, yes!”

  I scowl while staring at the ground before me, but it’s not to be manipulative, as I fear Lissie may think it’s meant to be.

  “You and I must trust our allies to do the lifting from here! You’ve done enough, Gary. Let the others help. Please.”

  I have to acquiesce. Especially because she means the best with all of it. Lissie tugs on my arm to wrap it around her. It’s here I know I’m the one making things difficult at this moment.

  Trust her. She’s not the one with severe physical and mental injuries here.

  “Where will we hide?”

  “The cabin closest to us.”

  Undead jolt with croaky yells that are shortened from falling on top of one another after rolling down the slope. It’s at this time where it doesn’t matter so much how far away Lissie and I get from this area, now the resting site of Claw, Grim, and Odhran’s bodies.

  Instead of a measurement by feet, our progress is measured by how low the sounds of the undead become.

  I need to start listening from now on. I just feel privileged that Lissie can be my eyes for me.

  “Almost there, babe,” she soothes.

  Every step is an eternity. This Lissie doesn’t mind, and she pats my back repeatedly to show how patient she is with our slow pace. To her, time is what we have to abuse. Allow others to handle the battle which is a current and potentially life-ending threat for all of us.

  A
shton, Janice, and Will. If you’re in one of these cabins, stay safe. If you’re fighting, stay safe as well.

  “Lissie, the others?”

  “Uh, let’s see…last I was with them was when we got you to the cabin where you woke up.” She hastens her response, having trouble speaking it. “Uh, I-I don’t know if they stayed as a bunch or not. I pushed them to leave me so I can be with you.”

  I squeeze her shoulder with my arm that’s wrapped around her. “It’s okay. They’re survivors. Surely, they knew what to do when this chaos came about.”

  A little smile forms on her mouth. She becomes stoic again when it seems she examines my face for too long. Her eyes dim, becoming distraught when they lock onto the sight of my vicious flesh wound.

  “I’ll knock on the door.”

  Bam, bam, bam!

  Defined quivering whimpers of several people come from behind the portal.

  “Please let us in!” she implores.

  …

  The distant frenzy of gunfire dominates the quiet, except it’s not the only sound that fills the void. Several people grow louder with their terrified sobbing.

  “My boyfriend is hurt! Please help him!”

  …

  Time is available to abuse. If she and I have to stand here at their tiny and quaint log cabin, one which’s capacity sounds that it’s already exceeding the number of people hiding in it, then we’ll spend that time defending ourselves from their silent accusations of being the enemy.

  “We’re the people that came today,” I share. “She came with the helicopters, while I came with your leader, Odhran.”

  “Where’s Odhran now?” a male voice, petrified and trembling, asks. “We want to hear him say that.”

  I swallow. I can only imagine how they’ll take it. “He’s…he’s gone. The enemy he was protecting you all from killed him.”

  The man’s voice is too emotional to provide a clear response. I can only picture him, all of them, behind this door, maddened that this is what’s happened. They’re probably ready to point the finger at us, intruders to their land.