When I say nothing, he asks me again.
“What if there is no settling? No safety? What if this is really all that is left for us now?”
“I can’t believe that,” I tell him. I sound as fragile as porcelain with the thoughts he has caused.
“But what if it’s true?”
It’s my turn to sigh. It fills my lungs as full as they can with the ache his words cause me. In less than a year, my flirt of a man with his boy-like charm has become so much more darker as Life steals pieces of him from me. I’m just happy it’s only Life who is slicing us with her dagger. Once Truth joins in, her sisters Karma and Fate teach us real lessons of suffering.
“Then we keep going. We get up, we move, we keep going. Giving up is not an option, because once we give up, then there is no hope,” I whisper.
“You still have hope?” he asks.
“I still have you.”
His arms tighten around me hearing my response and it might have turned into something more if Rhett had been asleep.
“So cute,” Rhett’s voice calls from the semi-circle of where our group sleeps. “Really, it gets me right here.”
Rhett’s voice is mocking with the sound of false tears. He is pointing to his stomach, not his heart, and the many who were faking being asleep begin to try to hide their laughter.
“Yeah, somewhere with lots of space,” Lawless says, pausing to recount what I had said moments ago, “and maybe no windows.”
“And miss my graceful exits? Never,” I say, with full sarcasm blooming.
“So, what’s the plan?” Rhett asks.
“Don’t know,” Lawless tells us honestly. “We are low on food, low on gas, and nothing is currently panning out. If you have a suggestion…?”
Lawless leaves his question open, letting whoever wants to answer him do so. We are just as lost as he is, though.
“So, let’s go scavenge?” Rhett says, almost with a sigh.
Marxx has come to stand by the window. He leans his body, watching the front lawn to avoid having to see us. It’s something he has done a lot of lately.
“What about her?” Marxx asks Rhett.
Rhett doesn’t need to ask whom Marxx is asking about. Nor do any of the rest of us.
Looking down at the sleeping April, Rhett says, “Guess having the other group is a good thing.”
“You trust them that much?” Marxx asks, still avoiding us.
“Not all of them,” Rhett answers honestly.
“Only takes one,” Marxx does finally turn to look at Rhett with what he has said.
“Look, Sunshine,” Rhett starts, “not sure what is going on in that head of yours, but enough with the who’s-more-grumpier-than-me routine. I get it. We lost J.D. We lost Chapel, and it was our job to see shit like that doesn’t happen. We can’t change it. So, start to live with it and stop pouting. If you can’t, then go put a skirt on, and let’s all just call it what it is.”
“Damn it,” Lawless whispers under his breath so softly, only I can hear him.
He taps my arm, letting me know to move. He doesn’t want me too close to them should he have to separate erupting male egos.
“Maybe if you weren’t so worried about a kid that’s not even yours, instead of your family, we wouldn’t have lost Chapel,” Marxx replies.
There was no anger in Marxx’s voice when he said it. His tone was cold, collected, and so much more brutal, in a way, than if he had shouted it.
“Is that what you think?” Rhett asks him.
Rhett stands and stretches as if what has been said to him is not the cause, or the effect, for his need to suddenly get up. I hadn’t moved when Law had first signaled for me to. Now, I’m not only moving-- I’m moving quickly.
Marxx doesn’t reply to Rhett’s question. He just stares, keeping his eyes level with the taller man’s. Paula, remembering what I had said yesterday, moves further from their path. She pulls April and Aimes with her. After all, it’s when they start to ignore you that you have to worry.
Lawless is waiting, standing, but waiting. I know from past G.R.I.T. altercations, if this is something Marxx and Rhett want, he will let them have it, but only to a degree. His hands are already resting on his belt buckle in his normal mockery of relaxation.
Dolph waits, still lounging in his sleeping bag with an arm tucked under his head with a pose of disinterest. This isn’t his fight. He won’t become involved unless he must.
“I asked you a question,” Rhett says and there is no subterfuge now as to his mood.
Rhett’s eyes are melting to their color of danger. His body relaxes to absorb the first blow or to be ready to deliver it. I don’t think he completely cares about which one happens first, just as long as something happens. If Marxx wants to push these buttons, Rhett will make sure the ride is worth it.
“I heard you,” Marxx replies, keeping with this calm tone. “I just don’t care. If it were up to me, I’d drop her with those upstairs and never look back at any of them. I guess playing daddy has made you a little weak.”
Rhett looks away from Marxx. He is not avoiding the man across from him. He looks as if Marxx’s words haven’t hit him, yet. It’s almost like Rhett is hearing someone talking near him. It makes me wonder just how many of us J.D. is haunting. When Rhett’s eyes return, they are completely cold, completely void of any of his dark humor.
“I was watching Law’s back. I did my job,” Marxx says. “I didn’t lose anyone, Sunshine.”
Marxx pulls every vowel he can from the nickname. He returns Rhett’s insult with just as much sarcasm as when the name was originally said. When Rhett’s head rises, I know just where Marxx is taking this.
I had thought his slow seclusion was due to his guilt over Chapel. It wasn’t. Just like every other time I had wished for my own shiny, leather vest to help me figure things out, I could have once again used one these past few days. Marxx doesn’t blame himself. He blames Rhett.
Rhett steps towards Marxx, reducing some of the space between them. Lawless mirrors the action, keeping himself at the same distance from the two men. Neither of them is acknowledging the younger man at all.
“Why don’t you just say what you want to, Princess. Unless you are just waiting for Hells to come to save you again?” Rhett almost whispers his question with a hiss.
I feel myself roll my eyes at the mention of my name and the memory of Marxx and I in the courtyard. His job was to get me to safety. I had turned us around, forcing his hand and ending us both in the middle of the very danger he was supposed to keep me from. It was me who pushed him when we first thought there was no hope. It was me who almost killed us both, too.
“At least Marxx never walked away when it got too heavy,” my voice says.
I don’t know when my mouth moved. It just did. Lawless’ head sinks, shaking slowly back and forth when hearing me. Aimes’ little snark of a laugh doesn’t help me either.
“Hells saved you, too, if I remember,” Aimes says, never the one to let me walk through the shadow of male egos alone. “It was her who kept telling them to keep faith in you and Marxx; it was you who went to help find April. So, I guess Rhett isn’t the only one trying to play daddy.”
At least she didn’t say sunshine.
“I went to keep you and Helena safe. It didn’t have anything to do with some bastard kid Rhett decided to claim like some little bitch,” Marxx says, and he knew exactly what would happen next.
I think every male in the room knew. They just didn’t know how far it was going to go. Something about the word bitch tends to rake the ego.
Lawless slides backward, stretching his arms wide to try to keep the chaos contained. Dolph is up, doing something similar to Law, but on his side of the room where the rest of our group is standing. There is nothing either of them can do to really contain it completely, but they hope to help divide the potential damage.
Rhett didn’t exchange any verbal warning or change the look upon his face. He went from still to
running, using his shoulder to push Marxx through the window behind them. The resulting sound is shattering, sharper than the shards of glass they create. It’s sharper than even the scream from Aimes as the two men sail through the ruined window.
Footsteps are running to us when hearing the commotion. My father’s group is heading down from the upstairs rooms they claimed last night to help keep the tension down. Obviously, we didn’t need them to help stir the pot of rage. Marxx Betty-Crockered that all on his own.
Lawless and I waste no time running out the front door to where the two men are rolling, exchanging blows as fast they are receiving them. There is no thought or form in this style of fighting. They are just trying to hurt the other as fast as they can, with anything they can reach.
I can hear the glass crunching under them. The wooden porch moans with the force of the two of them. The rocking chairs and other once well-maintained furniture is slid and pushed awry with the fighting. They will kill each other. I have no doubts about it.
Lawless grabs me when I try to run past him. Struggling in his arms, he lifts me from the ground. It removes my ability to try to outmaneuver from his grasp. He crushes me to him, shocking me some and fully gaining my attention.
Lawless whispers into my ear, “They need this.”
“They are going to kill each other,” I shout, not even attempting to keep my thoughts between us.
“No, they won’t,” he tells me. “Let it play out.”
“What the hell is going on?” Peyton shouts over the turmoil of the fighting.
Dolph has come outside as well, using his body to block the men from the other group from interfering. He looks to the men behind him as if they are completely stupid for not knowing, but he says, “Therapy.”
“This is how yours handles things?” Collin asks.
“We could just abandon our responsibilities, but we prefer to be more hands-on with our problems,” Lawless tells my father, setting my feet back on the porch.
“I remember hearing that about you,” my father taunts Law. “In fact, I believe your hands have been on just about every woman in our town.”
“Seriously?” is what my mind says. My mouth says, “Well, they do say girls always end up with men like their fathers.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” Collin says, but his excuses still don’t matter to me.
“You’re right, maybe I don’t, but I don’t care! This is stupid,” I shout. “We have those things out there, anywhere, hell everywhere. We have no supplies, no plans, and no idea how we are going to make it through this, but this is what you think is best to be doing right now? When you guys want to start acting like this is real, great. When you get over your damn selves, wonderful. Let me know. Until then, Aimes and I will go out to try to find us something to live on while the rest of you compare dick sizes.”
My shouting has stalled the fighting on the porch. Peyton and my father, Collin, look as if they have broken jaws the way their mouths hang from hearing my outburst. Dolph is smiling his lopsided smirk. The men of G.R.I.T., they just stare, completely used to me and my ranting. I’m legendary, remember?
Looking to where Aimes has come outside when hearing my voice, I say to her, “Get in the truck.”
I don’t wait for her answer. I don’t need to. She already has one of the black duffels in her hand and is following me down the porch steps.
“Hey Rhett,” she calls over her shoulder, “it looks like Hells has saved you both, again.”
Yea, though I walk through the darkest valley of male egos, I will fear no anger, for Aimes is with me. Her wit and smile, they comfort me. Surely amusement and snark shall follow me all the days left of my life; until I dwell in the house of Death, forever.
Chapter 7
“So, what is the plan?” Aimes asks me, when she feels it’s safe enough to talk again.
I don’t have one. I never did. I just had to escape. My quick eye shift from her and back to the road expresses it.
“Greeaaatt,” she exhales. “Well, let’s think like girls. Going from store-to-store is pretty male and mind-numbing. Everyone still alive has done that already. We need somewhere most wouldn’t go to look for stuff.”
“Dad said my aunt raided a pet place for food and water,” I offer.
I don’t know if the idea of eating pet food has her eyebrow so high, or the fact that I mentioned my true mother’s side of my family. Maybe it was because I called him ‘dad’ and not by the many other pet names we have created for him through the years.
“Yeah, that’s great and all, but no,” she answers, wearing her eyebrow still arched as if I will answer her unasked question.
“Daycares?” I ask.
Both her eyebrows match now. They are raised so high she looks almost cartoonish.
“They had to feed large numbers of kids. There should be food and first aid supplies for any injuries. Prescription pills for any of the kids who needed them since they were there so many hours a week. If nothing, at least some basic pain relievers for the teachers,” I say, as I keep rattling off reasons, waiting for her to either agree with me or call me crazy.
“Maybe some Midol for the guys?” she asks.
I smile and I guess her joke is the only agreement I’m going to get.
“Not much for ammo, or the likes, but it’s a start.”
“Maybe there will be cars in the parking lot to siphon gas from,” she says.
“Do you know how to?”
“I watched a YouTube video once.”
“Why did you watch a video on how to siphon gas?”
I shouldn’t ask this. I know better than to ask Aimes questions. I did anyway, though.
She extends her hands, palms up, saying, “I typed in how to give good head. That’s what came up.”
See, you don’t ask Aimes stuff.
“Now we just have to find one,” I say, skipping over her latest round of confessions.
“I think there was one back before we found the house-of-the-hour.”
“Completely in the opposite direction we are heading?”
Aimes only smiles, fully appreciating my annoyance.
I spin my beast, making her scream under the feel of my escalating mood. Bracing herself, Aimes’ smile widens. I can almost hear her thinking. Setting my face, I wait for her thoughts to become words with as much trepidation as I have left to gather.
“It’s nice to see your fire back, even if it is directed at the club,” Aimes says after the truck completes its rotation. “I’ve missed you.”
“Which part of me? The one where I keep getting people killed or the part where I keep trying to get myself killed?” I ask her with open honesty.
“The part that keeps fighting no matter the cost. The part of you that keeps us fighting with pure defiance to life’s constant fisting.”
I feel her hand on my arm, but I keep my focus on the road with its empty miles ahead of me.
“If you give up, they will give up,” she tells me.
I blink past the sudden pitch in her voice, fighting my emotions as well.
“I’m not their keeper. I never wanted to be. What they do or don’t do, I can’t control,” I whisper.
“Are we still talking about the club?”
Her question lacerates me. I inhale with it, clamping my jaw and losing the battle with my eyes to keep from crying.
“It shouldn’t have been me. They shouldn’t have been left for me to protect. I failed them and it cost them everything. I don’t want to make that same mistake twice.”
Aimes doesn’t say a word. She sits like a picture on a wall, staring and frozen, but watching just the same.
“I keep trying to do the right thing. I think to myself if I’m the one out there, then someone else won’t have to be, but I just keep losing them all the same. I keep killing them.” My breath catches and the words tumble out, finally free from their dark chest of imprisonment. “When I came home, Carol was being odd. I thou
ght someone had killed Lilly and she was mourning, in shock. She wasn’t. She killed Lilly like we all know how by now. So, I killed her. I killed my mother. Aimes, I killed my mother.”
The last part is nothing but a whisper with my strength escaping my words. Still, she is a picture of interest and nothing more.
“I took Ashley and Conroy,” I say. “I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I couldn’t think of anything logical at all but to follow our normal routine, to get them to a safe place they knew. All the kids were turned, Aimes. Every last kid who was left alive was turned and they came for us. Ashley just stood there. I didn’t save her. I didn’t fight for her. I watched my little sister die. Aimes, I let her die right in front of me and I did nothing but run.”
I have to stop to breathe. I might as well have fire in my lungs with how they are burning. I feel as if I am suffocating from their smoky flames, but the words keep falling forward as I smother.
“I threw Conroy to them. I thought I was saving him. I swear I did, but I was murdering him. I could hear his screams. Just like Jeremy, I just stood there and listened to him screaming for my help. I didn’t help him, either. I killed all those kids. With my bare hands, I killed them all. Now, they are in every dream. They are in every scent, every moment, and every passing hour. I killed Kira. I killed Shelia. I killed J.D. I killed Simon, Ross, and Chapel. I killed them all because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if it were me taking the pain, I could save them. I didn’t. I killed them.”
“And now you are trying to kill yourself.”
Her voice is as soft and tender as mine. I can hardly see the road ahead of me through the haze of my tears. I’m panting, trying to find any air left to my lungs. There is nothing but the flames, scalding me the way the truth always does.
“I want it to end.” I whisper my last confession, like she is a priest who could save my soul, saying, “I want to die.”
“Chapel died so you could live. He gave his life for us. How is you giving up now any way to repay that debt?”
“I would take his place if I could.”
Aimes is no longer whispering. She is hissing her words between her teeth, “You can’t. You can’t bring any of them back and killing yourself won’t change that fact. Haven’t we all lost enough? Haven’t we hurt enough? What do you think your death would do to us? If we had to lose you, too, what do you think that would do?”
The Risen Series | Book 5 | Defiance Page 5
