The Risen Series | Book 5 | Defiance

by Crow, Marie F.

  “I don’t think he has anything to say to you,” Peyton says to the darkness behind him.

  “Hell no, he doesn’t,” Rhett’s voice answers. “He isn’t that brave.”

  “But if his balls ever drop, he knows where we are,” Lawless says with a yawn.

  Our little camp comes fully awake when they hear Peyton’s rustling of clothing, announcing he has not only come around the tree, but he’s come to their side of the tree. I step from the direct line of glares when Rhett, Marxx, and Lawless sit up. I’m not interested in intervening in their little reindeer games, anymore. Dolph lifts his arm from over his eyes, but that is as far as he is invested in what is going on, at least for the moment.

  “We don’t have to like each other. We don’t even have to really interact, but we all know there is safety in numbers. We have to get past whatever this is,” Peyton tries to remind my group. It’s cute and totally naïve.

  Lawless pivots his head, looking to the other two men left to him now. Rhett’s face is illuminated by the flames, making his shit-eating grin even more dangerous looking than normal. Marxx wears no expression. Trying to conceal the blade by his leg, he has already drawn his knife, hoping he knows where this is going to lead. Rhett might have become more docile since the high school, but Marxx has become more vicious.

  “We are way past it,” Lawless says, slowly bringing his eyes back to Peyton.

  “Where is J.D. or Chapel?” Collin’s voice asks when he appears beside the unfortunate tree. “Chapel finally gave up on your little deviant group? J.D. finally find a fight he couldn’t win?”

  The men stand at once hearing him and the names he has spoken. My head rolls back to stare up at the sky, wondering about my father’s constant lack of the skill of timing.

  “Ask the question again,” Marxx taunts him.

  His voice is so deep with his anger, and it pulls me to him. Touching Marxx’s back, I try to ease some of the suffering I hear. I know Marxx is blaming himself for the loss of Chapel. He is convinced his injury has caused this somehow. Chapel gave himself over in the end so we could escape, knowing he would not survive the wound Travis gave him. There was nothing any of us could have done, but still, we each carry a ‘what if’ in our hearts. Marxx carries his on a platter draped with rage.

  “You have your stories, we have ours. Everyone has lost someone now,” Peyton steps further into our camp, trying to block the sight of my father. “Whatever lives we had before all of this; they are gone. Whatever we have done to one another, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Peyton looks not only to our group, but the two men behind him as well. Terrence had also snuck into the circle, not risking his side to face whatever circumstance he thought they would, upon hearing his leader’s almost pleading voice.

  Whatever was to be said next, doesn’t matter. The noisemakers are rattling by Peyton’s camp and the screams bring even Dolph finally to standing as we rush over. I can almost hear Fate sighing with disappointment as Karma’s little demons arrive around us, ruining her show. Somehow, the Risen always find us.

  Chapter 2

  Rhett places April between Aimes and Paula before following the rest of us. She doesn’t call for him or cry out when hearing the panic around us. She has learned the lessons of this new life well. She is already following Paula to my large truck as Aimes is grabbing all the supplies, as is agreed upon when danger is near. You can’t become scattered if you are already prepared to leave.

  Risen are shambling through the line of trees. It’s not the ones heading straight for us, though, who worry me. It’s the ones creeping around the trees which makes my feet slow.

  Their eyes seem to glow under the moonlight like an animal’s eyes. The little oval orbs sway between the group running away from them and the group running towards them. This group is keeping to the trees, using the large bark-covered trunks to peek around at us. They seem to almost be plotting before sneaking in amid the chaos caused by the first group’s appearance.

  There wasn’t even any noise from where they entered. There was no warning clang of the metal pots or the annoying plastic ratting from the baby toys hung around the area. My mouth grows dry realizing they figured out a way to untangle our alarms while letting the slower group distract us with theirs. They are learning, discovering new ways to defeat us as we are trying to learn new ways to survive them.

  Lawless slows, feeling me missing from his side. He turns to see what I am looking at and I hear his exhale of the shared feelings. He shouts to those running ahead of us, causing them too to slow down.

  We wait here, in this small space between both Risen groups. Ginjer and Genny run through our line, heading to the safety of Paula and Aimes. Kent, Terrence’s son, slides to a stop by his father. The wound he had on his leg when our groups met has pretty much healed, but he still favors the hurt leg. When he smiles at Rhett with almost puppy eyes, even with the trouble before us, Lawless still snickers just loud enough to annoy Rhett.

  “What are they doing?” Peyton asks.

  He is watching the two different groups, trying to figure out which one to head towards first.

  The five heading towards us are slow. Even with their voices at a pitch of excitement, their movements betray the stage of their decaying bodies. It’s not to say they won’t try to kill us. It’s just these are not the main threat.

  “They are waiting to rush us once we are busy with the first set,” Terrence answers.

  “No, watch them,” Marxx argues. “They aren’t planning to rush us. They are planning to sneak up on us. Look at how they are running from tree-to-tree to watch us.”

  “I think I would prefer if they were to rush,” Dolph exhales his statement, exasperated with their constant evolution.

  I watch as what Marxx had said is coming true. The other set are using the trees, and their casted shadows, to hide their movements. An occasional light-reflecting eye will peer around at us before vanishing back into the night. It’s demonic. It’s terrifying for my mind to watch.

  “What’s the deal with the other group then? What’s making them so different now?” Kent asks.

  Rhett leans into the teen boy’s space, whispering darkly, “Why don’t you go ask them? I got your back, promise.”

  “Why don’t we just kill them and then ask Paula, should we live through this?” I ask, not risking Rhett throwing another layer of male agitation to the situation.

  “Helena is right. This first. Whatever is going on, next,” Collin says.

  He smiles at me, trying to show his agreement with my idea. Gee, thanks Dad, so happy to finally have your support, is what my mind says. My face must have said something similar because his smile quickly melts, returning his attention to the monsters ahead of us and not to the monster he helped create – me.

  “Great,” I say, and as usual, I walk ahead of the men to taunt Death again.

  “Hey!” Peyton shouts, but I don’t turn to look at him.

  “Get used to it.” Marxx’s voice silences Peyton’s shouting. As he follows me, he says, “We have.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Lawless taunts Collin for the new motivation to my constant attempts of suicide, but I know without looking, he’s running to be by my side.

  I no longer flinch from the Risen. I no longer fear their sounds or their snarling, dripping mouths. There is almost a peace when I am killing. The noise stops. The pain stops. Not even my Angels play in my mind, anymore.

  This is my life now, and when the white noise starts, all I can think about is how Chapel is missing from it. They took him from me, these now mutated creations from hell. I now spend every spare moment fighting the Risen. I fight in a way I couldn’t fight them then, as if it might bring him back to me. It never does. Sometimes what doesn’t kill you doesn’t just make you stronger, it pisses you off. It’s sealing my soul that much deeper in some darkness daring to rival even Marxx’s.

  The first kill is easy. The blade never hesitates. The puncture is paper-
thin, already oozing blood and thicker fluid. I don’t cringe when the dark blood splashes my face as I withdraw my knife. The murky drops are like red tears. Like the tears I seem to no longer be able to shed, they slide down my cheek to drip onto J.D.’s vest. He bathed the high school in the blood of his rage and sorrow. I keep his vest just as wet with mine.

  Marxx is beside me, slashing at his own death-covered victim. He doesn’t lodge his blade into the skull as much as he tries to punch his whole fist clutching the knife through it. The Risen has become so overtaken with decay, Marxx’s attack concaves its head. The skull of the rotting woman seems to simply deflate, releasing so much more than just blood, but putrid gasses as well. Without the eye sockets, her eyes almost pop, smearing her face with the grease-like liquid when the corded muscle bounces them onto her cheeks. If any of this bothers Marxx, he doesn’t show it. He is already moving to the next one when she falls under his feet and my body follows right behind him with his same white noise of a need to kill.

  Law is watching our back. He is making sure that the other group of Risen doesn’t see us as an opportunity. I imagine this is what the rest of the men are also doing. We’ve removed two already of the five that came from the tress, if there is to be a window of chance to be overtaken, it will come soon. When the window opens, the ones watching us from behind the trees will rush through it. With how they keep playing “peek-a-boo”, I’m just not sure how many are going to fit through it.

  A decaying teen reaches for me as her legs wobble under her. Her mouth, responding to the starving need to feed, is extended further than her decaying skin should stretch. She rips the thin skin around her jaw. The now tattered flesh bleeds black as sludge and the blood runs just as thick from her self-inflicted damage.

  Using my shoulder, I push against her, watching her fall with her lack of coordination and gravity working against her. She falls to her side, clawing the ground to adjust her upper body to bite into my leg. As she lifts her head, I lift my foot. We collide against one another, but the force of my stomp plants her head back to the still winter-hard ground. Her head explodes like an overripe melon under my boot. It sprays brain matter and blood in a perfect semi-circle, and still her hand twitches, trying to reach for me.

  Marxx has destroyed the last two. Their bodies are almost headless from his rage. He is standing with his eyes closed, head tilted skyward as he collects his breath. Lawless and I watch him. He seems to shudder with something so different than repulsion.

  “Fun times,” Lawless whispers into my ear.

  I’m not the only one who has noticed the darker side of Marxx slowly escaping from its chains. Looking around, I see we’re also not the only ones concerned about how to stop the man we have come to know from slipping away. Rhett is watching Marxx with his face mixed with emotions.

  J.D. had taunted them so they would have to become something darker to survive. Ironically, it wasn’t J.D. who had turned our humanity switch to pause. It was Chapel, causing a bigger hole in our souls than J.D. every could. Humanity is almost impossible to hold onto when we must become bigger monsters than the ones stalking us just to survive. It’s a golden gate of a luxury none of us can afford.

  “Heads up,” Rhett’s voice calls to our trio.

  You don’t turn your back to the monsters. You don’t look away, but that’s exactly what we have done. While we weren’t watching, the real plan was set into action.

  Seeing their original plan has failed, the group in the forest has come to stand beside the trees they were using to hide them. I count ten; ten sets of glowing eyes from the moon’s reflective light watching us. Like the hunters they have been transformed into, they fade into the darkness with deliberate backward steps, and like the prey we have become, we watch them transfixed - not moving until they have slipped from our sight.

  Even as we exhale, thinking it must be over, the sudden screaming shatters that hope. It breaks through the returning, streaming music of the night’s creatures. It’s Genny’s voice, blending with April’s, in a new song of panic. The gunshots are the drumbeats, setting the tempo of our running feet. Rhett’s mumbled pleas are the chorus, framing the verses of our hard breathing as we rush to reach those who have started the second fight tonight for our lives.

  Chapter 3

  We had thought the group in the woods was using the five slow ones to distract us, hoping to rush us when our backs were turned. We were only half right. They were using both sets to distract us. There were never just fifteen. No, Fate would never be that kind. Watching the moving shapes among the vehicles, I count forty. There are forty ahead of us, easily.

  They slam their hands against the windows of the vehicles from which our groups hide, trying to reach those who are screaming inside. Paula is using my truck’s height from its elongated bed to fire into the ones who draw too close. The shotgun crackles with light, booming the sound of its barrels around us as she attempts to defend their group.

  Aimes has thrown her body over April’s, muffling the little girl’s screams, but Rhett hears them just the same. His new life is trapped inside the truck and he runs as if hell is about to swallow them, stealing them from him forever. He is shouting their names, like a battle cry, desperately needing them to hear him so that they know he’s on his way. When Aimes looks in our direction, Rhett somehow seems to run faster.

  Genny and Ginjer are huddled in the backseat of the compact in which Peyton and my father travel. I can hear the teen’s screams, but they don’t reach me. They don’t stir me the way Aimes’ wide eyes do. My heart doesn’t tighten over Genny at all. I should feel some guilt over this, I know, but I don’t. Let my father worry over his new little family, the way he never worried over mine.

  “There are too many,” Dolph shouts.

  “When has that ever mattered?” Lawless asks. His voice sets his intentions into motion.

  “When we are this exposed! We gotta’ go. We can’t fight them,” Dolph is panting his words, forcing them between his breaths, trying to bring logic to the emotion-fueled event unfolding before us.

  The vehicles are already humming with their waiting engines. We learned long ago you can’t really start a motorcycle and prep to evacuate. There are just too many of us now to orchestrate such an act. With all we have learned, tonight we will still be taught a new lesson.

  Terrence and Kent shout from behind us where they have fallen behind. Their voices signal a new panic. Peyton and I turn to see the ones we had thought to vanish have finally found their window. Twice now, we have turned our back to the monsters and twice we fell into their trap.

  Terrence is pushing his son, trying desperately to keep some distance between them and the group rushing towards them, but the gap is shrinking. Kent’s leg is still weak from where he was injured. It seems like such a small space left ahead of us, but I know one of them won’t make it.

  “Rhett,” I scream, turning his attention towards me, “get my truck.”

  Rhett is already far ahead of me, but he still sees behind me what is about to happen. He makes a motion for Aimes to see when he looks back at her, and whatever it was, seems to make sense to her. She slides to the driver’s door, waiting for him. Marxx and Law clear his path, shooting into the Risen who attempt to reach for Rhett. Rhett never slows, trusting Marxx and Lawless with more than just his life. He is trusting them with the lives of those he is running towards, and when he almost collides with the truck, Aimes shoves the door open. Rhett uses it like a weapon, smashing the thick metal into the male who lunges for him. It bounces the Risen’s skull against the glass, smearing it with almost burgundy-colored gore.

  With Rhett in my truck, it’s now my job to get to his Harley. Rhett spares me a smirk through the streaking gore when my truck whips around to cut off the second group. The ignition switch glows like a warning, asking me if this is something I really want to do. It’s not, but I will. His Softail is wide through my hips and bucks underneath me as if it knows I am not its true rider as I
ease the clutch, almost stalling her.

  “Easy,” Lawless says beside me. “Let her out easy. Swallow down the panic, Hells.”

  I do. Forgetting all that is around me, and all that is waiting for me should I drop this bike, I force my heart down into my chest and free from my throat. This time I walk out the clutch, straining for my toes to reach the ground. I don’t fully lift my feet until the bike has gained a steady momentum. It still sputters, but it doesn’t try to throw me like the wild beast I imagine them to be.

  “A little more,” Lawless coaxes.

  Rhett is pushing my truck with his fast acceleration to reach Terrence and Kurt, mowing down the clumped groups of Risen like a southern teen aiming for mud puddles, and I can still feel his eyes on me and his bike. Embracing my middle finger of a mantra, I dare the bike, feeding it the throttle. When it roars under me, they all roar behind me, with Law, Marxx, and Dolph following me out.

  Glancing in the side mirror, I watch as Law and Marxx smirk to each other, but it’s my father and Peyton I’m following. They have split up, diving for the two vehicles left behind. Peyton has fought his way to the red Jeep while my father has forced his way through to the compact. With their headlights swinging towards us, they too are now following Rhett’s charge.

  Paula has lowered the truck’s tailgate. Her hopes lie with Rhett bringing them just close enough for her to help pull the two men left to safety. Once again, such a small amount of space has grown into what looks like acres.

  Rhett doesn’t veer from his collision course. Terrence doesn’t either. I inhale watching the two of them. Rhett is planning to sideswipe the two, not letting the Risen figure out where to move to block him. If either set of men mistimes this, the tragedy will echo louder than anything the Risen might have done so far tonight.

  The small slice of space between Terrence and the truck causes me to gasp. Anything closer and Rhett would have taken the man’s shoulder off. Knowing Rhett, I wonder how much of this was precision and how much was a dare. Watching through the back glass as Aimes hits his shoulder, I know I’m not alone in my thoughts.