The Deadly Nightshade

by Justine Ashford

  I shut my eyes as the preacher’s words fill the silent room, feeling their power. Suddenly, like electricity coursing through a wire, I feel a strange energy pass through me from Connor to Reina, and it is as if the strength of the group flows freely through the circle, unifying us not only by the physical bonds of handholding, but mentally and emotionally as well. When I open my eyes again, I feel as though I am living for the first time, renewed, reborn.

  When Sheppard has finished his prayer, Reina snaps her fingers to get our attention. Although it pains her to say it, she says, we must prepare our weapons now while there is still time so we can be ready before dawn. Each and every Sweetbriaran in that room bows their head low, and it occurs to me that this is probably the first time since they arrived in this town that the majority of these people will touch a gun. For them this is not just a battle, but the end of a way of life. After that first gun goes off, who knows how many other people in the area will hear the noise and find this place, and who knows what type of people they will be.

  Reina leads us downstairs into the obscure corridor with the room Connor and I had been held in and veers to the right, unlocking a different steel door that leads to another flight of stairs. We follow her down one by one into a large room probably capable of fitting a hundred or so people. The walls and floor are all made of concrete and the room is windowless, similar to the one we were imprisoned in just hours ago. Dozens of weapons hang from one of the walls—enough to make up a complete arsenal—and boxes of ammunition sit neatly stacked on a small table. I spot my two handguns immediately, as well as Connor’s rifle and revolver, which sit directly below my own weapons. With Reina’s permission, the group approaches the wall of guns and begins to get a feel for them. After I have reloaded and acquired enough ammunition to take out Roman’s entire army by myself, I holster my handguns and turn to Connor, who is studying his revolver with a thoughtful expression.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask him. “Do you really want to fight?”

  He looks up at me in surprise, as if offended that I would even as such a question. “Of course I want to fight,” he says, trying to mask the subtle quiver in his voice. He spins the cylinder of his gun absentmindedly. It is unloaded.

  “You’re going to need some bullets for that,” I say, gesturing to a box of ammo on the table. “Conn, do you really think you can shoot someone? I mean, you said yourself you’ve never killed anybody.”

  “I shot at Roman’s gang the day they attacked us.” He picks up the box and begins pressing bullets into each chamber. “If I have to kill someone, I will.”

  “Then you’re going to need more than just that revolver,” I say, scanning the remaining weapons for something he could use. “Six bullets aren’t going to be enough, not at the speed you reload at. You can use your rifle, but personally I think you need something with more capacity, maybe something semi-automatic since speed is going to be important in this situation.”

  “Might I suggest this,” interrupts Reina, grabbing a compact, military-style submachine gun from the wall and stroking it gently in the way one would pet an animal. As she stares at the weapon, her worn face turns grim and she emits a long sigh. “I hoped I would never have to pick up another one of these in my lifetime, but I guess we cannot always get what we wish for.”

  She hands Connor the gun, allowing him to get a feel for it while she describes its capacity and recoil, and presents him with a magazine of .45 caliber bullets to reload it with. After she has finished explaining the gun’s specs and Connor has thanked her for her assistance, she scans the weapons on the wall as if looking for one in particular, then grabs an automatic shotgun from the center. She runs her hands along its body, caressing it like a lost lover she is just now seeing for the first time in years. She then reaches for a handgun, but as she goes to holster it on her waist she sighs; the tight black dress that hugs her curves leaves no place for a gun to sit. After a moment, she excuses herself and heads back upstairs, her heels clicking with every step, and shuts the door behind her.

  I decide to leave Connor’s side for a moment to assist Sheppard, who has been staring stoically at the shelves of weapons since we entered the room. Although he remains expressionless, his jaw clenches and unclenches ever so slightly in displeasure. Spotting an assault rifle that I believe would suit him well, I grab it from the wall and present it to him.

  “Need some help picking, Shep?” I ask. “Why don’t you take a look at this one?”

  He flashes me a lukewarm smile as he takes the gun from me and studies it. With tears in his eyes, he turns to me and says, “I just can’t stop seeing them, Nightshade. My girls, my wife—that’s who I’m fighting for today, not just these people. Their faces, their screams, they haunt me. I thought I had laid them to rest years ago, but it’s like this gang has brought them back. Sweetbriar is my family now. I can’t keep losing the people I love, Nightshade. I can’t let what happened last time happen again.”

  “It won’t,” I assure him. “We’re going to kill them—every single one of them—I know it. Trust me, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s this.”

  He smiles as a tear escapes from the pool in his eyes and slides down the grooves of his rugged cheek, getting caught in his scraggly beard. “I want to thank you, Nightshade, for everything. After all these people put you through, you came back to fight with us, and you being here just might make all the difference. You’ve been a friend to me these past few months, and you have no idea how much your companionship has meant. You have a good heart, you know, and I love you for it. Thank you for being a part of my life, no matter how short that part was. Thank you.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded, because everything he just said are words I would have spoken to him if I had known how to articulate them. Feeling breathless, I clutch the preacher close to me and bury my head in his chest, trying to blink away the stinging sensation in my eyes. He pulls me against him and places a long kiss on the top of my head, stroking my hair delicately.

  “You know,” he whispers, “if my daughters could’ve lived, I would’ve wanted them to be just like you.”

  Tears have just begun to well in my eyes when I hear Reina call out to get our attention. When I let go of Sheppard to look up at her, I find my leader dressed in tight black pants, a red tank top, and black high-heeled boots. Her perfect spirals of long black hair, which almost always hang freely unless drawn up into a stylish braid, have been pulled back into a ponytail. Her black wings of eyeliner have been retouched, a fresh coat of lipstick has been applied to her lips, and a new layer of blush sits on her cheeks. She looks almost otherworldly, like an angel of Death.

  “Alright, everyone,” she says, “it appears the hour of judgment is upon us. You all know what to do—collect everyone from their homes and recruit those who wish to fight beside us. Go quickly—we need to get everyone in here before sunrise or the consequences could be disastrous. Everything changes in a matter of minutes, my friends, but it is up to us to see that this fight goes our way. We will meet back here as soon as possible and I will inform everyone of the crisis at hand. Once everyone is locked down, we will take our places and prepare ourselves. Remember, all of Sweetbriar is depending on you. Today, we are saving lives.”

  As everyone begins to file out, Reina stops Connor and me and tells us we must not go out to help for fear of inciting panic. Instead, she orders us to wait upstairs in the entrance hall with her to help keep count of everyone who walks through the doors.

  Only a few minutes pass before the townspeople begin to trickle into the building. Upon catching sight of Connor and me, the majority shoot their leader appalled and questioning stares, some ask what the hell we’re doing here, and others demand to know why we are armed. She tells them she will explain in a moment but it is essential that they follow whoever brought them here downstairs. The authority and urgency in her voice seem to convince them that following her orders unquestioningly is their best course of action. Without
the mob mentality to give them power and stir a frenzy, they are much more eager to do as they’re told. The trouble will occur when they are all together again.

  Sophia escorts Savannah and Ash into the building, holding her nephew tightly by the hand. Spotting the red-haired teacher, Connor rushes to her and they lock in a tearful embrace. She shudders as she falls into his arms, her tiny body heaving with the force of her sobs.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” she cries. “What’s going on, Connor? What’s happening? Why do you have a gun? She wouldn’t tell—”

  “Listen to me, everything is going to be okay. You’re going to be fine, Savannah, and so are the kids. Follow Sophia downstairs to the bomb shelter, alright? Just do what she says, we’ll be there soon.”

  “Bomb shelter?” she cries, her pale face draining of any and all color and her lips quivering. She stumbles backward a step with the force of the implication of these words, her breathing strained and wheezy. I watch as she places a hand against her chest and claws at it violently with her nails, choking out sobs all the while. All of a sudden her knees fail her and she collapses against Connor, who reacts just quickly enough to keep her from flopping to the floor. Panicked, he looks around for assistance, but I have no idea how to calm her down from her hysterical state, so I stand back, helpless.

  Little Ash, whose fright-filled eyes watch the whole ordeal, begins to cry. He buries his face in his aunt’s abdomen, clutching at her desperately for protection from whatever caused Savannah’s meltdown. Reina immediately takes charge of the situation, ordering Sophia to soothe the child and directing her attention to the unstable young woman in Connor’s arms.

  “Savannah!” she shouts, startling the teacher back to her feet. “What are you doing? Look at him, look at what you have done!” she yells, indicating the crying little boy. “These children look to you for guidance, Savannah! They look at you to see how they should behave. If you are crying, they will cry; if you are calm, they will be calm. It is your responsibility to comfort them and protect them, and in order to do that you need to get your shit together and relax. Do you think you can do that for me? Do you think you can do that for him?”

  Savannah stares at the sobbing child for a moment, sniffling, and regains her composure within a matter of seconds. The color returns to her skin, her breathing slows to a normal pace, her back straightens, and her knees cease their violent shaking. Wiping the tears from her face, she plasters on her signature smile and kneels down to the boy’s level. Ash runs from Sophia’s arms into those of his teacher, who hugs him tightly and whispers soothing words into his ear.

  After she releases Ash, she takes his hand and begins to follow Sophia toward the stairs. Connor grabs her arm before she is out of reach.

  “This won’t be the last time we see each other, you know,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

  The tears return to her emerald eyes, but for the sake of the child whose hand she holds, she doesn’t let them overflow. With a slight upward curl of the lips, she turns away from him and leads Ash out of the room. Connor watches her go until she is out of sight, and even then his eyes linger on the spot she disappeared from.

  “You should go with her,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Savannah needs someone to comfort her too. Besides, those kids need you just as much as they need her. I think you should stay with them.”

  He shakes his head, as if unable to believe what he is hearing. “Nightshade, no, I’m not going to turn my back on the fight. We need as many people as we can get on the front line. Savannah can take care of herself and those kids, trust me.”

  “She just had an anxiety attack in front of you and you’re just going to leave her alone down there? You need to stay here and protect them, make them feel safe. This is where you belong, Connor.”

  “I belong with you,” he insists. “I belong out there by your side fighting Roman and his gang.”

  “You don’t belong anywhere near there!” I snap. Why won’t he just listen? If he stays down there, he is guaranteed to live unless every single Sweetbriaran fighter dies first. But if he goes into battle I have no way of ensuring his safety, no way of protecting him. “You’ve never killed anyone in your life, you barely know how to shoot a gun—what good are you out there? You won’t make it, Connor. You’ll get yourself killed before you can take down a single man.”

  He stares at me for a moment, his pained expression indicating how much my words have hurt him. “So what?” he mutters.

  “So what? So what?” I hiss. “Do you want to die, Connor? Is that what you want?”

  “What the fuck would it matter if I did?” he explodes, his voice breaking and his eyes growing misty. “Without you and without these people I would’ve been dead a long time ago anyway. I’m living on borrowed time, Nightshade. What does it matter if I die?”

  I stare at him, trying to form an argument but finding no words. In that moment I know there is nothing I can say or do to convince him. If there’s one thing I have learned about Connor in my time knowing him, it’s that he is stubborn beyond belief. If this is what he wants, I will never be able to change his mind. All I can do is acquiesce. His bullheadedness will be his demise.

  “Alright,” I whisper, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pressing his forehead against mine. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Please, Connor.”

  His lips curl upward in a wry grin and his blue eyes gleam with mischief. “No promises.”

  Reina clears her throat to get our attention. “The last of them have just filed in,” she says. “It is time.”

  We follow her back down the stairs and into the bomb shelter, where the rest of Sweetbriar waits anxiously for their leader’s arrival. They are already chattering loudly before we enter, each and every person trying to ascertain some idea of what is going on, but when they catch sight of Connor and me the volume seems to triple. Nate approaches our trio and quickly informs us that only four more people have agreed to join the fight, none of whom have ever fired a gun before, but were willing to take a quick demonstration. There is no doubt in any of our minds that we are outmatched, but that doesn’t mean we are defeated.

  Before the Sweetbriarans can get out of control again, Reina addresses them. “Now I know you are all wondering what is going on, and the truth is that I have been informed that when daylight breaks Sweetbriar is going to be attacked by the men and women you saw outside our camp. They seek to kill every one of us and take this town as their own, regardless of whether or not we give them Nightshade and Connor. We have overheard their scheming. Roman anticipated we would turn against each other and surrender Nightshade and Connor to save our own lives because it is human nature to be selfish, but what he did not anticipate is that we are not like him and his people. We are not a gang—we are a society. When morning comes, we will fight back against these invaders with all the manpower and firepower we have got. To those who are in this bomb shelter, you are in here for your own protection and I swear I will not let any harm come to you as long as I live. To those who will fight with me, I wish you luck for the last time and I ask you to fight today not only for your own lives, but for the lives of everyone in this room as well.”

  The room remains quiet for some time after Reina finishes speaking. Nobody moves. Nobody blinks. Nobody breathes. There is no telling how these people will react to this news—whether they will fly into another rampage or protest or just accept this as their reality. Although only a few seconds pass, it feels like an eternity of silence.

  Then, the unthinkable happens: the townspeople actually begin to voice their agreement. I watch in stunned silence as they clap and shout their support and proudly slap those with guns on the back and thank them for what they are about to do for their community. They wish each other luck and hug each other warmly, exchanging “be careful”s and “stay safes”s. They turn to their neighbors and friends and loved ones and whisper tearful goodbyes, words of encouragement, and
promises to come back alive that they have no possible way of knowing they will fulfill. As I look around the room at the mass of people who just hours ago had been an angry, violent mob, I realize Reina has done it—she has rallied all of Sweetbriar behind her in the waning minutes of the night and restored their confidence in her leadership. And she will lead them to victory too.

  Victory or death.

  Chapter 48

  With everyone else locked away, the twenty-three of us who have agreed to fight head for the stations Reina has assigned us. As we exit the building, I am struck with awe as I witness the most breathtaking morning I have ever seen. Night has just broken into day, and the glorious sunrise seems to have been painted in the sky by an artist’s hand. Rich violet fades slowly into lavender, mauve, pink and, just peaking over the horizon, the sun bleeds a rich crimson. It’s so strange, how such an ugly day can hold so much beauty, but I can’t say I’m not glad it does; for many of us, this will be the last sunrise we ever see. As I look around at my fellow fighters, all of them painfully familiar, I wonder who will fall today and who will live. I examine face after face, trying to determine whose I am seeing for the last time, wondering if they are all doing the same. Maybe this is the last time I will see any of them—maybe this is my last morning on this earth.

  Reina sets us up in and around the homes closest to the gate. Connor, Sheppard, and I are assigned to the inside of the nearest house on the right side of the street, while Reina, Nate, and another man take the inside of the nearest house on the left. Sophia and Claire are stationed on the roof of my building and two other women are assigned to the roof of Reina’s. The rest either set themselves up inside or around the other nearby houses or climb the sentry ladders and take their place atop the wall.