“What? No more bikinis?” I try to smile, but their faces scare me. These are men that have done the things most of us only threaten to do in moments of anger. They did it because they found it fun. They were blood-soaked and sin-tainted before it became a necessity to be so. Now, whatever is hidden under my gauze-wrapped lower stomach is making them cringe.
“You really want to do this?” Chapel is asking me with a warning undertone. Lawless is right, I always have to push my luck; me and my white rabbits.
Chapel removes the tape and I hiss as the blood-stuck gauze is lifted away. They were right. I should have listened. My lower abs are a gaping, vertical arch of red meat. The many stitches that try to pull the jagged flesh together wander down my stomach in a drunken swagger of a pattern. I have seen better stitches in Frankenstein movies and I am feeling about as pretty as one of his brides.
“It kept getting infected. Paula had to keep removing more and more trying to find healthy tissue to save.” Chapel recovers the wound hearing my uneven sigh. “It looks good now.” His statement makes me wonder what it looked like before, but I think better of asking. See? I’m learning.
“Aimes?” I ask, happy to change the topic from my new accessory and myself.
“Good,” Chapel finally smiles and it spreads through the room like a candle’s glow.
“Giving us all grief like normal.” Lawless smirks and I know who has been her verbal punching bag. He comes to me with exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders. I guess I haven’t missed that much at all. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks me half-teasing, half-angry.
“Spank me. It’s the only way I’ll learn.” I tell him with hopes to pull the teasing further to the surface than his anger. When his eyes warm with half-masked thoughts, I know I have won.
“On that note,” Law’s voice is ripe with unanswered desires. We are suddenly alone in the room, or we might as well as be for the lack of attention we have to spare for anyone else. His fingertips caress my face, rememorizing the map of my features like a man drowning and desperate for pleasant memories. “I’m sorry,” he tells me as he stares at his fingers to avoid my eyes. “I should have been there.”
“You kept your promise.”
He chuckles with remorse. “I shouldn’t have to keep coming for you. I should already be there.”
Shrugging I tell him, “I’m not an easy one to keep safe.”
“That one we will agree on.”
“Where did he come from? Where did any of them come from?” I ask the question that has twirled in my mind with my forced slumber. “We cleaned out the place.”
“We never checked the second floor. We went right to the third. When they were bringing their dead down, it must have brought them down. We have found a few just roaming, but it’s clear now.”
I shift letting him sit beside me, but he isn’t happy with just that little space once the invitation has been given. Like a gentle lover, he stretches out the length of his body, pressing it against my side. He cradles my head with his arm tucked under me while the other travels up and down my body with soothing measures. This is the side of Lawless that only I am allowed to see. In private moments like this, he is mine and not the man he has to become for others.
“How long?” I ask him letting the waves of his fingers coast me out to a relaxing sea of safety.
“That you have been under?” He shrugs with his face. It’s a gentle frown before relaxing again. “Almost three weeks. Paula said if you didn’t wake up soon…” He stops, unable to continue and unable to look at my face. “You kept calling out for J.D. I never wanted him back more than I did then.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that more than likely I was yelling for him to leave me alone in whatever state of purgatory he was walking with me. “I’m sorry,” I tell him and I feel like a coward.
He finally does shrug this time. “Don’t blame you. He was always the one we went to when we needed someone to pull us through. He always knew what to do.”
“It wasn’t always the right thing” Is what my tongue wants to say. Instead, I say, “Yeah.” I’m earning that gold medal of chicken shit today. Silver isn’t as pretty, anyway. “Anything I should know about?” I bring the topic away from the man he sees as savior and I see as something between father and tormentor.
“Later,” he whispers against the sensitive skin of my neck, “let me just be right here, right now.”
Now who’s the chicken? “You know that is not going to happen, right?”
He sighs with a mixture of a laugh and exhales. “Yeah, I had hopes though.”
“Last time I left you alone…” I leave the accusation unsaid between us. I’m holding my breath just the same as if I had asked about Leslie out loud.
His sigh is long and wounded. I can feel his whole body deflate with it. “I told you. I’m all in. No more running, Helena. I’ll hold us both down if I have to, but no more running.”
“So is that a no or is the florist just out of white roses?” I ask, once again trying for humor to skirt having to face anything deeper. He bites my ear with gentle teeth and I have to laugh before pulling free. “Who were you yelling about?”
“Rhett has made some new friends.” Lawless settles deeper into the groove beside me, refusing to talk about it anymore. It doesn’t take long before his breathing is a steady, calm pattern of slumber. It is the only thing that is calm.
I remember the look on Rhett’s face when Selma had said that one word. That one word that we each hold dreams of with golden-lined aspirations. Did Rhett fall into his own rabbit hole or has he simply stepped to the side of Simon? Did the look of rooted angst the day when Lawless stepped up to lead bear poisonous fruit? How do you lure the beast back into a cage once it has tasted freedom? How far has Rhett taken his Independence Day and how many bonfires has it cost us? All of this rampages my mind with a new fear greater than the last with each new question that forms.
I want to be brave enough to wake the sleeping man at my side and ask it all, but I know that soon I will be facing them. Soon I will be out there, neck deep in whatever has befallen while I was held in the confinement of my dark, unconscious delirium. It waits for me like a noose, and if I am to hang, let me steal what bliss that I can, while I can. Let me just be right here, right now.
CHAPTER 15
The whole place still wears the scars of what has happened. It’s on the faces of those who still walk the halls like colorless outlines of their former selves. It’s the conversations that hold whispers too afraid to speak for whom may be listening. The discoloration and irregular patterns along the floors and walls will forever stand as proof like monuments to the deaths that have happened. The air has the smells of brutality and frailty like a wind of forced change. The air is more suffocating than life-giving and it carries the taste of madness; a madness that dresses itself up in the trappings of pearls and virginal whites tricking those around it with beguiled charm.
“Dear God.” My jaw hangs with what is waiting in the courtyard.
“Pretty, huh?” Aimes says beside me staring at the relic that has my attention. She had been waiting for Lawless and I when we awoke. By awoke, she was flicking her wet fingertips at us until the water startled Law awake enough that he fell from the bench with his sudden movement and the limited space it had. I had laughed watching him chase her around the room with his injured pride, a source of more amusement for her. After all that we have come through, I still felt that tinge of jealousy watching their easy friendship.
“What the Hell is it?” I ask her as we walk through the cafeteria’s war-beaten walls.
She exaggerates her eyes and wiggles her fingers saying, “Our salvation.”
“Our what?”
“Your cavalry has a big cup of psycho they drink from. The worst part,” she points to where a group of people stand and I spot a familiar face, “our psycho is doing shots of it.”
Rhett stands amid the new group and when he smiles,
I feel my stomach sour. There, in the middle of what I remember as burning piles of sheet-wrapped memories and decaying decimation has been transformed into rows of wooden pews leading to a wooden cross that looms in front of them. It casts a long shadow that feels more threatening than inspiring. The pews erected upon the scorched cement seem to mock what took place there. As if one could sit silently in revelations upon the remembrance of the murdered.
To further add to my misgivings, the cross looking to be made of tree trunks wears a white shroud draped across its extended arms like a white sheet once used to spare the sight of the dead. All around it mingling with smiles and welcoming embraces are those who came riding in with open arms of heroics with Rhett as their shiny new centerpiece.
“They have convinced everyone that God moves through them and they are here to save us by doing His work.” Lawless crosses his arms, staring into a scene depicting a joyous reunion, not a place of earth that holds more tragedy than a place should. “The sheep almost worship them.”
It’s not the people he is glaring at, but someone who once stood by our side. Even with the tinted windows, Rhett looks over as if he can feel our eyes on him. Maybe he can.
“Sheep, huh?” I ask remembering another man that dubbed them with that word. He shrugs at me with his face matching the motion.
“Our little Lawly has become quite the cranky guy with your departure.” Aimes leans forward to glance past me where we three stand lined up. She sticks her tongue out at Lawless and he rolls his eyes with the fact. I’m guessing he has heard this speech before.
“Why do I have a feeling I am going to be blamed for a lot of this with my “departure”?” I ask her.
She smiles at me and I can feel the sarcasm coming. “Because you’re just so purdy,” she tells me batting her eyes with false worship.
Chapel saves me when his arms drape over my shoulders pulling me to his chest. “Let her get back on her feet before you two send her back to hiding.”
“Had any conversations with the man from Galilee, lately?” Lawless asks Chapel while trying his best to not let his thoughts cross his face. He nods to Marxx when the man comes to stand beside him, but keeps his eyes forward.
“None worth repeating,” Chapel answers, watching the crowd grow outside.
“You?” Lawless tilts his head to Marxx asking for his input.
“Why start now?” Marxx asks him, telling his opinion on the idea of religious rapture.
“Me either,” Lawless says. He turns to look at Chapel and asks, “So what does that make them?”
“Kool-Aid makes the world go ‘round?” Aimes offers, tinting the tone of the conversation to more of her style.
Chapel is unmoved with her humor. The preacher’s son won’t be deterred, not by her or by whatever is assembling beyond us. “Faith makes the world go around. Kool-Aid just makes it more fun to watch.” He sighs and I can feel it expand his broad chest.
“How is this even possible?” I ask, still stuck on my confusion over how so much has changed in what, to me, feels like only hours.
“We lived in a time of smart phones and stupid people.” Marxx grunts showing he stands as annoyed as Lawless with the change of scenery.
Aimes sighs and it’s never a good sign. “Yeah, I miss sexting,” she says as if it is the most normal thing to admit to missing. Sometimes, I really wish she would just smile and nod instead of sharing her special trademarked skills of conversation.
“Let’s get this over with,” Chapel says, with one final hug.
“Get what over with?” I ask growing nervous watching Lawless stiffen.
“Why, silly, the cleansing of our souls.” Aimes tilts her head, smiling at me with comical confidence. “We couldn’t possibly risk the end-of-days with these black marks on our hearts.”
“Why is it with every question I ask you, I just grow more confused?” I make a face at her and she returns the heart-felt gesture with one of her own.
“Because you’re just so damn purdy,” Marxx says on the far end of our chain and it makes both Aimes and I laugh.
“I think I’ll sit this one out.” Lawless is unmoved by the laughter with his brown eyes still seeking the tall man that he once called Brother.
“You “sat out” of the last one and you remember how well that went over.” Aimes’ eyebrow is arched so high it looks purely cosmetic, but with her mouth set into a frown it is anything but false.
“She’s right,” Chapel says. “You need to sit with us and see how Travis handles it. Let him try to spin a new tale.”
Marxx knows that Lawless holds no concern for how Travis sees him. He takes a different road. “You can keep Hells warm and piss Dolph off.”
It works. Lawless smiles with the thought, but it’s not a smile of affection. It’s pure male ego wrapped in well-formed lips and reflected in amused eyes. Watching him, I feel like a goldfish won at a county fair and I just want to float to the bottom of the bag with hopes this new home offers some consolations.
“Let’s get this over with.” Lawless echoes the words with his new resolve.
Marxx bounces the door open with his palms letting the loud sound signal our arrival. Conversations lull to a dull undertone. The men never pause to glance around them but almost rudely take a converted pew. Marxx places his feet on the one in front of us motioning with his eyes for Aimes and I to sit on either side of his boots. Lawless and Chapel frame us so that the men look like hired security surrounding us. Of course, Aimes can’t pass up the chance to unlace the heavy leather boots and Marxx lets her amuse herself. Half of Aimes’ antics are out of nervous tension. The other half are just out of mischievous craziness stirred with boredom. No one likes it when she gets really bored.
Lawless stretches back so that his elbows support him on Marxx’ bench. It places the two men side-by-side despite their different pews. It all looks very relaxed and bored, but I have seen this act before from them. They both stare at Rhett with that same uninterested look, letting him know as well the game they are playing. With their silent ways of speaking, they have let each other know that Lawless and Marxx will step up if something threatens us and Chapel has the duty of protection. What the hell has happened while I was recovering?
With the appearance of Travis, whom I remember briefly, the crowd recovers and begins to settle around the nearby pews. Simon takes the pew furthest from the front. He seems to have aged decades since I saw him last. His constant, flirting smile has been destroyed by what life has left of him. Dolph is sitting to one side of him, but Richard is missing and something about the way Dolph sits lets me know he is not just running late.
“Where is Richard?” I whisper to Aimes as if we were really sitting in a sacred place of worship.
Aimes shakes her head at my question. She never looks up from the mess she is making of Marxx’ laces. If there is a sudden need for Marxx to move, I don’t think he will make it very far, but he says nothing so her fingers keep toying.
“Lost him with your first suicide attempt.” Lawless answers, never lowering his voice from a normal level of conversation.
“That was far from her first,” Marxx counters. “You need to recount.”
I turn to look at the two men who find themselves rather funny. “Really?” I hiss and earn wider grins from my frustration.
Travis clears his throat with his level gaze locked in our direction. “If we may start?” he asks, not masking his annoyance.
Marxx blows him a loud kiss and Lawless has to duck his head to recover from his laughter. Oh father, how proud you would be if you were still here. Travis is not as amused and he looks to Rhett who is standing at the edge of the raised pulpit. Rhett flexes his shoulders, pulling them back and his chest forward in a slow stretch. It’s a silent challenge and it brings the humor in the men beside me to a stop, but it brings something else forward.
Lawless sits up, leaning onto his legs with a bowed back and a steady gaze, sending his own challenge. I’m not even both
ering to see what Marxx has projected, but his boots no longer separate Aimes and I.
“Beloved, children of God, we come together tonight under the clear blue sky of our Lord to give praise and thanks to Him today.” Travis’ voice rings out over the courtyard. His widow peak of thick graying hair rustles in the breeze. His lips curve into a smile as he speaks. I think I have seen sharks wear the same grin. “Today, we have proof of His mercy. We hold vigils to His miracles. He has not forsaken us as so many of you have thought. No!” Travis comes from behind the attempt of a podium with emotions vibrating his voice. His words are enflaming him and he hungers for that fire to spark in those around him. “You thought you walked in His shadow cast by His back turned to you. You feared He had removed your names from His heart, but today, today my brothers and sisters, we have proof of His stead-fast devotion to us sinners.”
“People actually believe this stuff?” I lean into Aimes to ask her with as silent as I can be and still be heard over his continued shouts of proclamations.
“Oh yeah,” she whispers back.
“Does Rhett?” I ask, still huddled in our bubble of whispering.
“Hook, line and vagina.”
“What?” I look to Rhett with her explanation with shock and baffled confusion. He meets my eyes with his blank face refusing to acknowledge me.
“He and Selma Whorepants are the new “it couple”. I have bets on a June wedding,” she tells me, locking her eyes on Rhett who is trying to not watch us. Aimes, being the rock star that she is, lifts her middle finger towards him and runs her tongue up its length slowly before sucking it into her mouth. For a moment, a smirk pulls on his lips before he recovers and those blue eyes go from amused to winter ice. “Look, I’m not saying Rhett is a sex addict. I’m just saying you never see Rhett and a virgin together in the same room.”
“You never see me and Batman in the same room,” Lawless says nonchalantly.
“No, but I have seen your wallet and you in the same room enough times to feel pretty confident that you are not a Wayne,” Aimes says, beaming her mischief to the man beside us.
The Risen (Book 4): Courage Page 11
