The Integration (Part I): Still Myself, Still Surviving

by Marlin Grail

  We start walking back, looking at the clear stretch of grass and dirt ahead of us. It has been some time since an undead has made itself known, and the walk back has no sudden surprises of them, whatsoever.

  There was not one site of blackness in the sky today. The heat won't let up though.

  I notice, near the entrance of the path, are the graves that Gary and Ashton dug for those people. The bumps are distinctive, so it helps me walk over them. “Oh, dammit!” Lissie says, quickly wiping her shoe of the dirt from one of the graves that she accidentally squashed on.

  Don't Worry, Lissie. I'm sure you not ignoring the fact you stepped on them would not be desecration in their eyes.

  Now right beside the stone, I toss the bag to the opposite side. “Ouch.” I say, reacting to my back that has inflamed from being strained at the truck.

  “Are you okay?” Gary asks.

  “I'll be fine. I'll just walk through the trees, instead of hopping over the stones.”

  I slide my body sideways through the mixed variety of tree stumps on the left, both thick and thin. Short and easy the act was, and now onto the path again, I turn around and reach down to pick up my bag. “Ouch!” I yell.

  This tension is really being persistent!

  Ashton quickly leaps over the stones, and comes over to help me.

  “I can say I envy your agility.” I tell him, committed to remain comical, so that he, or anyone else here, doesn't make a fuss about my back pains.

  He has my arm, being sure to be gentle, while helping to raise me back up from the ground. “You just rest, Janice. I'll do the heavy lifting from here on.”

  “What ever happened to playing through the pain?” I ask.

  Unaltered by my question, he goes ahead and picks up my bag, now carrying 2, filled with food, water, and bullets.

  I've got to make sure he gets fed well tonight, if he's going to be exerting all of this energy.

  I figure it would be pointless to fight him on this, since when he is determined physically, he will not accept a change of direction, if he can help it.

  Gary speed-walks his way to the front of us, taking point. I feel it would be plentiful now, more than ever, to share my gratefulness for him fitting into his position as our leader snug-tight. “Thank you, Gary, for being very protective over us. I knew arguing for you to be the one in charge was the right decision on my part.”

  He relaxingly stops his movement, and turns around to look at us. “I appreciate the kind words. I have said this before, but it is still true to me, and that is all of your voices are equal to mine. I do not see a hierarchy. I see… a team. We have already been under the rule of a head, and we might be under another, more palpable one, but we will always be a team that we can rely on thanks to our unique characteristics. I will not make any of you fall in line—for your special qualities need to be shown and heard. That alone is my top priority as your leader.” He says, carrying a sturdy, but warming tone to his voice, filling me with optimism for our future.

  Definitely, Will missed out on being a part of this great and strongly-cemented group.

  Gary continues as he was, taking steady strides up the path, which inspires me to do the same, regardless of the discomfort from my back. A few minutes pass, and every crunch from our feet becomes the notable sound, at least until I have a laugh that comes from seeing our shelter ahead. “I'm definitely done for the da—” Ashton says, until rustling from our right, where the wild occupies, begins.

  “Don't move! It's him! It's him!” a man loudly yells, with their gun pointed at us.

  Out comes 3 more people, forcing us to stop where we stand. All of their guns-in-hand strike fear into me. Gary, stuck midway in grabbing both of his own, seems to be their focal point, for, while their aim is equally distributed among our group, every one of their eyes can't help but glare at him the most, compared to the rest of us. “Hurry! We found him and his group!” the man, on the farthest right, yells to someone we have yet to lay our awareness on.

  Anxiety pummels at my already-strained back, but now my shaken-nerves are coursing through as the primary energy in my body.

  Janice, don't make any sudden movement that could set them off.

  From the trees, a rough-sounding voice is heard—with their first words catching all of our attention. “It is you! Yes, you, the one with the sword! I've finally found you!”

  They stomp their way towards us all. He has a grin that indicates him being pleased, but there are sinister thoughts in his eyes. “2-and-2 formation, now!” he says, and immediately rushes his way over to Gary.

  One punch to his gut, and Gary hunches down. This man stands above him, with both of his fist squeezed, and teeth visibly being clenched. Ashton beside me temporarily forgets 2 of the 4 armed men are still holding their aim on the rest of us from behind, since it seems he prepares to throw himself onto the man attacking Gary, but the third one places his barrel right on my shoulder, while the last one stays by the forest-line, keeping watch. “This bullet will go through her, then you, so make your move.” They threaten to Ashton, withdrawing their lips inside their mouth after a deep exhale from their nose.

  I start breathing heavily, and sneakily look down at the gun, feeling its iron stick into the muscle of my right shoulder. Ashton, noticeably enraged, reluctantly raises his arms up as a hostage would. Lissie is rather silent, but I do not need to look behind me to know she is absolutely consumed by disdain for these people.

  At this point, they are also not deserving of my compassion, but my fear is too detailed to show I have fight in me to subdue any of them.

  I am concerned for Gary. He doesn't have advantage at all in his predicament. “Who are you?” he asks, resisting the pain, based off of his voice.

  The man sends a knee directly up into Gary's stomach, putting him further to the ground. Ashton grunts of anger every time Gary is attacked, and I flinch with every hit Gary takes.

  After a few seconds of lodging kicks into his stomach, the man bends over to speak intensely into his ear—sadistic with his controlled movements when he isn't pounding on Gary. “You know, I was there, when I saw you shoot them.” He says, before he hangs his head down, and begins to softly break down emotionally. “One of them… was my brother. YOU killed my little brother!”

  Gary remains concentrated on fighting the pain he is experiencing, but works up the strength to shift his slightly shaky head at the man. “I… I'm sorry. I… was protecting my group.”

  His words seem to have bought him a chance to have a rational talk with this man, as they both are making eye contact.

  “Your group aggressed on ours first, and though we had no personal hatred for your men, we still defended ourselves.”

  “You should have left him alive! I saw him, crawling as best as he could, and you just walked over and killed him! He looked at you, and you still did it!”

  Gary wouldn't have just shot someone, unless he had merit to.

  Without waiting for a response, the man lands 1 more punch into his face, and then takes several steps back. “I got all this way, tired as hell, to do 1 thing.” His statement, stance, and glare at Gary foretells his purpose. “If any of them try and save this low-life, you go ahead and shoot!” he tells the others, who are all quiet to his command.

  This can't be happening! We were just unraveling from the day! We can't be so helpless, after everything that we've been through!

  Gary forces himself off of the ground, cupping his side with both hands, managing his breathing. “If I had a free choice to say I'm not going to die today, I would choose it. If I can't, then at the very least let your vengeance only be on me. Those 3 had nothing to do with your people's deaths.”

  Suddenly, Lissie makes a sharp cry for his name. “Don't do this!” she yells, with a slight whimper that follows afterward.

  The man behind her demands she remains silent.

  “You think you're above this? You think I'll accept your death as being a noble and respecte
d kind?” the man says to Gary.

  He then sends a signal with his hand to the other men, and the one nudging their gun against me forces their hand onto my neckline. “Get down!” they yell at Ashton and me.

  “Get your hands off of her!” Ashton demands. Instantly, the man points his gun at Ashton, turning his head off-center while keeping his eyes locked on him.

  “Ashton, it's okay.” I say, tripping over my frantic breathing.

  I slowly fall on my knees, feeling the pain of both my back and the torment of knowing that this might be our last moments.

  I don't see how we could get out of this. I can only think of what we could have done quicker.

  I immediately call to Gary. He turns his bruised face at me. “Listen. I don't blame you for anything!”

  Ashton shares his agreement on my statement as well. “You did everything a good person does. You've always done right, Gary. You're my brother, man!”

  I start sniffling from the tears I can't refuse any longer.

  Lissie releases a bellow, and, me looking back at her, I can tell she is barely holding in the grief in her face. “Gary, I'm sorry it's taken this long to just admit it. I was wrong to have not accepted that moment yesterday!

  The man in front of Gary directs his interest to Lissie, tilting his head from a new change of pace for him. “She's important to you, huh?”

  In a flash, Gary lifts his hands off of his wounded spots, then slams both of his fists into each other—with loud enough force to make his knuckles sound like rocks that clink together. “You take me, and I won't resist. You go after her, and you will find trouble!”

  I notice the man's expression changes again, looking fascinated by an idea he has quickly put inside his mind. “Alright, Gary,” he says with a mocking tone, “beating you to the ground will be more satisfying than just shooting you.”

  Chapter XXV

  (Lissie)

  He then creates more directions with his hands to his men, which must have signaled them to be his spectators of this emerging brawl, for they back away from me, Ashton, and Janice, and head over to where the fourth man is positioned. “Don't lose sight of the rest. They must stay on their knees!” he says, ruthless by default.

  Gary and this man now are spread out, possibly 7-10 feet away from the shelter doors. This aggressor is closest to the structure, while Gary slowly limps his way to the one large stone. It is the stone that has changed so much for me.

  Gary, they gave you a chance.

  The man then alleviates his elbows up, bending them to the position boxers used to develop, and begins slowly walking over to Gary.

  In the past, Gary shared with me that he's physically fought people before, but he never specified if those conflicts were molded as such is now—with him already roughed-up.

  “Gary's got this.” Ashton says, leaned in on my ear so his comment would be only heard by the 3 of us.

  I believe Gary will not be defeated so easily, then again, how badly does this man who is starting the fight want his revenge?

  Gary places his own hands in front of himself, with his farthest that is extended out formed as the kind martial artists would use to chop someone on the neck. Just as it fast as it was to have this fight be brought into reality, the first punch comes fairly quick after, though not from Gary.

  His unique-looking hand, closest to the punch, hooks onto their forearm, tracking down to their wrist, all while simultaneously leaping aside from their trajected attack and body. Very speedily, Gary switches hands, with the one he initially hooked with now being his free hand. He forms a fist, then hurls it sideways to the man's face, being repetitive and precise.

  The man snarls from hurt, but not defeat. He reaches under his currently held arm, and punches Gary in his ribcage, which must have been his bruised side, for Gary shouts sharp grunts. They both break free from one another—mostly by Gary's demand, for he kicks the man before releasing his grip on their arm. The other men hoot in masculinity when Gary gets hit, whereas we stay silent, but we stay emotionally invested nonetheless for Gary's sake.

  “You've got some hits on me, but they were your last.” He says to Gary, demented with his chuckle afterward.

  It heats up when he begins charging, like a football player wanting to tackle another. Gary stays in place, waiting for this bull to practically be but an inch away from him, and then swipes to the side, but not before elbowing the back of their neck. The man loses dominance over gravity, and runs himself to the ground from that attack. He briefly looks at us when getting back up. “You people are dead, once I kill your leader.” He intimidates, punching the ground from anger and wiping off dirt from his face.

  Within the moment of restoring his stance, I see he reaches in his pants, and pulls out a pocket switchblade.

  This shows he's become desperate.

  Gary, moving himself over to where the man originally was positioned, comes to realize they're close to where we are, so he sprints over. “He's got a knife!” I shout to him.

  I can hear the pounding in my heart grow faster, especially when the man turns around and thrusts it directly at Gary's abdominal area. The instant he sees it seems to have been recognized in time, because then Gary arches the left side of his body back, avoiding the knife strike, and elbows the man in his face, twisting himself counter-clockwise while doing so.

  Now, with his back up against the man's front, he grips onto their outward arm, squeezing the skin gap enough to lighten the pigment on his fingertips. Without warning, he begins lifting the man off of the ground. The intention is clear enough to us, seeing that Gary then rolls him off of his hip, dropping him flat onto the ground, all while keeping his grip on the wrist with the knife.

  Gary, the leader, the known musician, and now, the martial artist. This man really has a lot of caliber.

  Then, almost brutal and unlike his normal self, he lets out a deep yell as he stomps his foot onto the man's slightly lifted head. “I'm sorry for killing your family, but I won't let you hurt mine!”

  A couple of coughs exit the man's mouth, as he begins speaking, “I still have the upper-hand! Your weapons do not outmatch mine!”

  That exclamation snaps my internal cheering back to fear, when the man raises his free arm at his men, who are several feet away from us all—then giving a 2-finger cue. They all start taking aim at our direction.

  This is it!

  I hold onto Ashton and Janice's bodies, holding them tight.

  I wish I could feel Gary, too.

  “Oh shit!” one of the men scream, before gargling in pain.

  I quickly open my eyes to see those 4 become distracted by something behind them. A brutal site is seen when the one who shouted has an undead face down in their neck—squirting blood in the air as it chomps down.

  All of them would've had good aim, but luck has made it to where they are not able to concentrate with this distraction happening.

  The one next to the poor sap starts shooting at the undead, but gets another surprise—we all do, when his right has arms reaching out to him, and now down he goes with this second undead. “Help them, dammit!” the man commands to his men that aren't assaulted.

  He gives the order, even when he is still pinned on the ground by Gary, who is stiff like a statue by shock himself. The 2 remaining up start shooting at the undead, but not adapting to keep a look out to the forested area right of them.

  I can't help but feel there's something odd about how well-timed those undead came.

  Shortly after I wonder what opportunity this grants us, I immediately see both men let their guns stop firing, dropping them carelessly on the ground, and they go limp. A bullet is fired into one head, and a stab into the other.

  Who is this?

  “NO!” the man cries, shaking his body entirely, trying to get Gary off of him.

  Gary counters the resisting, and proceeds to rip the knife from the man's hand. He throws it at a distance away from them both, infuriating the man further. Ashton
then grabs Janice, with his hands careful to where they are placed, and helps her off of the ground. I let out a ginormous sigh, and hurry my way to the front of our pack.

  The screaming from the men has silenced, and finally does the figure who helped alongside those undead intelligently move away from the gritty location.

  It is who I think it is?

  His dark, straight hair curled behind his ears, with the same apparel he wore last time we saw him when we thought he was out of our lives forever, he has returned and saved all of ours. “It's Will!” I shout, absolutely astounded.

  Ashton has astonishment as well riddled in his face. “I can't believ—” his sentence cuts short from Will's distinctive voice.

  “You have right to not believe, or not have had the faith in my return, but I came back to return my faith in this group. Let me tell you, I see now the true line between my friends, and my enemies. Being out there, all alone, even when it was only a little over a day, did it make me understand I need others, but not just for me, but for you too. We need each other. This was a clear example of it.”

  I believe he's seeking for acceptance back into the group, as best as he knows how to that is.

  I let myself break from how he knew me, and lunge myself at him, hugging tightly. “Thank you.” I say, uncaring that he struggles putting his arms around me as well.

  “Careful! I still have a loaded gun in my hand!” he says. He calmly detaches from my hold, nodding at Ashton and Janice, and then walks over to Gary—where the man remains laid out on the ground with no motivation to continue fighting. “So, it was your group that ambushed our RV, wasn't it?” Will's first words are, kneeling himself down at this man's face. “You know, I would be a hypocrite if I didn't say I know where you're coming from. But, what I've learned is that you are alive, so don't let your past take over your life of the future.”

  The man remains quiet for a few moments, only to then lean his head up at Will. “Any more of my future would involve making sure I rip you all apart—one by one. If you don't want that, then you'll have to kill me.”