by W. A. R.
“Well, would you look at that?” Shelly said teasingly, dropping the edge of the towel and looking up at Amber. Amber flushed and dragged her eyes to her friend curiously, the others sharing the same questioning glance as they waited for her to finish her statement. Shelly grinned and her eyes twinkled a little as she placed her hand on her abdomen. Amber was reminded of earlier and she grinned in spite of herself. Amber’s eyes seemed to ask Shelly What? And she gracefully answered. “Bite and all…I still see Amber McDermott.” Her eyes flashed playfully and Amber felt her heart lighten. She harrumphed and turned away towards the basket, gathering her things before making her way towards the door with every other pair of eyes following her. “Imagine that.”
It wasn’t five minutes later that a sudden scream rent the air, piercing Miles’s ears and winding itself achingly around his heart and both Amber and Miles straightened, their eyes no longer glazed with a tiredness that reached their bones. They were alert then, their hearts racing wildly. Amber sat up on the bed, looking around and once her eyes landed on him, she didn’t question it. She was too dazed to do so. Miles had jumped to his feet, looking towards the door and Amber had followed, having just put her shirt on to cover her body. Their skin immediately flushed and their hands trembled. Within a second they bolted from the room, Amber scrambling from the bed. The two of them rushed into the hallway, their sock clad feet slipping against the hardwood flooring, the others stumbling behind them. They ran, witnessing Bobby-Jean and Chloe stumble from their rooms in response of the blood-curdling, pain-filled scream begging for mercy. Another scream ripped through them, only making them hurry faster…if that were at all possible. Miles was sliding into the room, Amber at his heels, both people racing for the person in agony. Amber turned to Chloe and with excitement and anxiousness in her veins, shouted an order.
“Go get Doc!”
Buddy followed behind. He followed the cries and the shouts, the sounds ringing out in his ears like a siren’s call, urging him closer. Once he reached the wanted doorway, the activity surprised him and he felt a small smile form on his lips. Amber and Miles were on either side of him, giving him whatever they could, ranging from support to what little Tylenol they had, changing the bandage on his stub of an arm. Buddy knew then that he was right in everything he told Lacy before, when they were alone and exploring the community, and he understood that she was behind him, witnessing how the two of them worked together with little or no words, how they moved and spoke with just looks. He had told her that Amber and Miles were what made them all tick, the glue to their broken pieces and this in and of itself just showed them that. All the while Bobby-Jean and Shelly stood to the side grinning, tears in their eyes. Buddy felt weight ease off of his shoulders as he stepped fully into the room.
Jacob was alive. He was awake and he was going to live.
The relief Buddy felt was overwhelming and as he took in the scene, he felt the burden that weighed heavy on his heart lighten. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was dark, the cool night breeze swishing through the trees and rustling the leaves. It was welcome, this sound, this music that the wind brought, the song that the crickets sang. It was silence and yet it wasn’t. It was still sounds, and in the midst of the war, in the chaos of death and the end of the world, it was music because music…well, it didn’t exist anymore. The wind and the animals brought a sense of comfort, the shine of the stars in the sky patting weary passersby on the back as they walked along. They comforted him in the echo of remorse and regret. Yes, he thought, it was very welcome indeed.
Rick stood lamely, leaning against the metal building, the metal cool on his back. It was a bit wild, he considered, how everyone, at some point, came to that place. He wasn’t sure why; hell, all he witnessed there was pain and regret. And yet, people continued coming forward, they continued coming back to that place where the sky and the ground met the stone and steel walls, where there were now three crosses planted in the ground. He knew that Amber kept coming there, he had seen her. She would kneel, crouched down on her haunches and she would study the cross; Damien’s cross. She would furrow her eyebrows in uncertainty, the lines in her forehead pinched together in obvious study and thought. He had never interrupted her during these times; he couldn’t. He understood that she was questioning so much and the closer it got to time for them to go, the more she was out there. He didn’t know the full story concerning Damien and he doubted that he ever would. But, he had helped his cousin and she had forgiven him, she claimed, before taking his life. He could believe it, he knew, as he understood how forgiving a person his cousin truly was. Still, she had been angry. She wasn’t so much anymore. She seemed more resigned than anything by then, as if she accepted everything that had been handed to her and prepared for anything that possibly would be thrown at her. She was always alone when she went to the graves.
As he stood there, letting the cool breeze wash over him, he sighed. His eyes were burning from the dryness of them, and he knew that they were bloodshot and rimmed red. He couldn’t help it. The jar of moonshine he held limply in his hand helped take the edge of the pain away, physically at least. He had drunk enough of it by that point to know that there was no amount of alcohol that could make him forget the emotional distress he felt. He knew, without even trying, that he couldn’t strand straight and therefore he continued to lean against the cool metal of the building. His mind wouldn’t stop, and knowing that he would be out there for a bit longer, at least until he sobered up enough to walk straight, he clumsily lowered himself to the damp ground, the grass cool on the back of his legs. He attempted holding up the jar of moonshine to keep it from spilling as he did this but it was no use; it sloshed over the rim and in an effort to stop himself from falling, the wet glass fell from his fingertips. Moonshine poured over the ground as he finally sat. He stared at it for a long while before waving his hand dismissively at the empty thing, scoffing and turning his attention back to the crosses. He didn’t need that drink anyway, he thought to himself.
And so, for a few minutes, wrapped in the cocoon of silence and the wind, he stared at the crosses before him. He studied the names: Damien, Derek, Larry, Lance. These names were all scratched into the wood, were all uneven and etched into the bark with emotion and thought behind every letter. There were no dates, but then again, with the eventual rotting of the wood as well as the ignorance of the years they were even born, would the dates of their death make sense? He thought not. He found it odd that two out of the four names of these crosses were not even members of the community or their group. They were the enemy…or what had once been the enemy. He knew that both of them, both Damien and Lance, had a cross put there because of Amber. He wished that he could forgive and understand as easily as she seemed to. Still, in spite of all of this, he could at least be thankful that there were only four instead of the six…or even more had things gone so differently the day before. There should be more graves there, he thought.
He should be there instead of Larry; instead of Derek.
With that thought, he realized with a shuddering clarity something he had been suppressing for the better part of the night. That was why he was out there. He was guilty and remorseful and the alcohol numbed nothing but his fingertips. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the building. Stretching his gimp leg out before him, he brought his other knee up, resting an elbow on it. He felt the tears come to his eyes, remembering the screams and the cries, the begs and the pleas. He recalled Michelle, Larry’s wife, and how she had broken down upon seeing her husband through and jaw squished under pressure like Play-Doh. He remembered the rock settling in his gut as the two men, both friends, were taken from the truck to be put into the ground while he was ushered into a house, while those others crying over their dead bodies were forced indoors, also unable to seek closure, comfort. He blamed himself for it, knowing that if he had taken the initiative to act first, that
Derek wouldn’t have had to and he would still be alive. Rick knew that he could have kept running instead of turning in an attempt to distract the monster away from Larry, but he hadn’t. If he had done these things, both of these things, then his two friends would be alive…just maybe. Hell, Rick had nothing left going for him, so why shouldn’t it have been him that took that fall?
And even as he sat there, thinking all of this, reveling in the regret of having failed his family and his friends, he knew that there was even more on his mind than he let himself believe. He understood that he was still harboring immense guilt over what had happened with Brian, what had happened with Amber. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about such things, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. He most certainly didn’t want to weigh anyone down with a burden that was his alone to carry. And though he had slowly begun moving past these horrors, the day before, the run-in with the creatures, threw him back into the past. With every scream and every desperate attempt to fight and live from the day before, he got flashes of bailing on Brian, leaving him, Shelly, and a beaten Amber to defend themselves and hopefully make it out alive. He was brought back to hearing Charlotte’s screams of mercy, of her blood coating the ground. He even remembered bashing in the head of his parents in desperation…and he remembered crying so mournfully over their loss and what he had had to do, knowing that his cousins had been forced to do so much worse.
He was a coward.
He had run that night, the night it all began and he had stayed hidden for months only to make an effort in killing himself by way of the excuse of going after his cousins. And even then, after all of that he had refused to back down from his pedestal of pride to tell Brian everything, the truth about absolutely everything that happened. He couldn’t even apologize to him; not until it was too late. Brian had apologized first, whole-heartedly and Rick couldn’t even tell him that it wasn’t his fault; couldn’t tell him that it was Rick that had failed him instead of the other way around. And still he hadn’t learned his lesson, as the day before he had run and inadvertently, in the end, cost two people their lives. He was a danger unto himself.
“There you are. I was wondering where you had taken off to.” He heard a voice break into his reverie, shattering the silence around him.
He quickly jerked around, his tender head causing his vision to swim as he searched for the person to whom the voice belonged. It was dark out, clearly, and his eyes had adjusted to the blankness that settled over him and yet still it took him a moment to find her. He was torn between greeting her with a smile or with no emotion at all. Around the corner of the building came the sound of her boots crunching against the fallen leaves and he could barely make out her outline but he knew who it was. It was Amber. Again, as he watched her, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug her or run because really, everything considered, she was the last person that he wanted to see right then. He was trying to deal with his guilt, and a lot of his guilt did indeed involve her and her brother. It wasn’t before she made it two feet from him that he made a decision.
“I was just going.” He told her as he made a feeble attempt to stand.
She furrowed her brow at him. “Are you leaving because I came out here?”
Having brought his feet under him finally, he glanced up at her, his face impassive. “Nope.” Dizziness hit him before he even made to stand and he fell back against the building and the ground.
“Whoa.” Amber started, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” she asked as he hissed at the pain radiating across his skull. He brought a hand up to rub at the swollen knot on his scalp that was giving him such trouble.
“I’m fine.” He lied.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and dropped her smile. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?”
“I might be.” He spat at her accusingly.
She stared at him, her eyes leveled with his, before sighing. She moved then, turning and balancing herself on her palms before grimacing and lowering herself down to the ground beside him. Gingerly, she leaned back, her shoulder and back slowly easing to rest against the building. He studied her, unsure why she was behaving so wounded before the reality of it smacked him in the face. Oh, right, he thought, she was. She was scarred over from a year of violence and just the day before the flesh of her back and shoulders was taken and left on the road when Larry’s body had hit her.
“In that case, let’s sit here for a while.” She told him before moving her legs before her, crossing them at the ankle. He turned to look at her in surprise, almost offended. Couldn’t she tell that he wanted to be alone? She, however, was staring straight ahead at the crosses before them, not paying rick any attention.
“I’m fine by myself.” He snapped at her and she shrugged, still not turning to look at him.
“Rick…” she began speaking gently but he wanted none of it.
“I said I was fine by myself.” He nearly shouted at her. She sighed then.
“You made that very clear when you left by yourself the first time.” She retorted and he felt as if he had been smacked in the face by her words. He hadn’t told her his story, hadn’t even mentioned it, and yet he knew that she was referring to when he had left both her and Brian the night the world came crumbling down.
He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly defensive. “You know nothing.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I know enough.” She replied. Her words were not heated or accusatory in the least. No, instead they were laced with understanding. “I know that if we didn’t leave you that night, you left us. Your guilt implies the latter.”
He wished he hadn’t spilled his drink. He certainly could have used it right then.
“I haven’t been…” he began defending himself but she cut him off.
“But you have. Ever since you we found you.” She finally turned to look at him, her soft eyes gentle and beseeching. “We grew up together, Rick. I know you…and I know that you left us and I know that you’re hurting…killing yourself over guilt and that guilt is the reason you are out here…it’s the reason I’m out here.”
“Why are you even out here if you are going to lecture me?” he bit out and she never wavered. Instead, she sighed, sounding so very wore down and tired.
“I’m not lecturing you.”
“You immediately came out here and started griping at me.” He accused her and she sighed.
“I’m not griping. You need to talk and we are going to talk. I’m not stepping on eggshells just to avoid your feelings. You’re my cousin and I’m being your friend…the one you’ve needed for a very long time.”
The lump in his throat wouldn’t allow for him to argue anymore and he quickly jerked his head to look everywhere else but at her. Her words dug deep into him, asking him to supply her with some answer or even some affirmation that she was right. He licked his lips. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to even begin. He was close to breaking down by then, the alcohol, while not numbing his emotions, inadvertently allowed for them to be flayed open. He was soon going to be bare to her and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.
She turned from him and stared again at the crosses. “I’m sure you had your reasons for what you did, but like I told Miles when he left alone that night…you didn’t have to go through it alone…whatever it was.”
He swallowed thickly, tasting the tears that were soon coming. “I went after my mom and dad.”
He felt her nod beside him. “I figured.” She paused before looking at him as he sat with his eyes closed, face aimed for the heavens. “You didn’t have to go alone, Rick. We could have helped you.”
“I wanted to be alone in case they were dead. I didn’t want y’all to go through that too.”
Her eyes were saddened and he opened his, the pain fresh as if it were yesterday. “I know. So instead…you made us lose you.” Her words were like a blanket of comfort and he felt his eyes fill with tears. “I can most definitely understand that.�
� And he felt that she was thinking of something difficult, something she kept to herself.
“I wanted you both to live…in case I didn’t.” he explained and she nodded.
“I know.” She stated, twisting her fingers in her lap. “And Brian knows too.” She spoke softly and her words forced the tears to fall from the corners of his eyes and roll across his face before melding with his hair. Silence was welcomed again as the pair sat there, thinking, contemplating what to say next. He felt his lip curl up and his nose crinkle. He sniffled, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.
“I never got to tell him everything.” He paused, hesitated, feeling his heart tear in wild fashion at his next words. “I never got to tell him I was sorry.”
She studied him then, taking in everything about him. The wind blew yet again and he felt the coolness of it wash over him and his tears, freezing the salty remnants where they were on his cheeks. His hair rustled against his ears and he wished to be anywhere else, and he most certainly wished to be sober. His mind was foggy at best and the alcohol was making his words sluggish but his thoughts audible. He couldn’t stop the emotions that kept calling to him, that kept baying at him. He knew that he was soon going to be swimming in their depths and he hoped that there was a life-saver for him to hold onto so he didn’t drown in them.
“He’s still alive, Rick.”
He shook his head and clenched his fist in his lap. “It doesn’t matter. He could die anytime in that place and I never got to tell him.” He gulped loudly and sniffled, his chest hurting. “He was my best friend.”
“You didn’t have to tell him. He already knew.”
He shook his head yet again, his eyes still studying the stars. “How could he possibly know?”
