The Risen: Dawning (13 page)

“Something you want to add here, Barbie?” He asks me in a blatant dare to voice the thoughts he can read upon my face.

“No. I am sure you have your reasons for making us sit in here. Do you want us to just cover our ears when the screaming really starts or sing a round of kumbaya?” My voice is a neutral friendly tone. My words are not.

He closes the space between us with three steps of anger at my rebuttal. You do not talk back to the monsters. You bow your head and refuse to meet their eyes for the fear they will cause you. Now he knows I no longer fear him, stripping him of his hold over me.

We stand a breath between us as he stares at me finally, really, seeing what is behind my eyes. I have tasted death and J.D. does not hold that same metallic taste in my mouth for me with his presence anymore. His eyes roam my face trying to read my thoughts with any clue it may give him, but I remain blank, waiting for his next move.

The room grows thick with their anticipation at our standoff. The men are torn between their biological DNA to protect me and knowing the fact that any harm that may come to me will be from the man they each obey without question. They fidget with their mental debates of what they should do. Marxx holds a hand on Lawless’ arm, preparing for what will happen depending on the path J.D. decides to take. Aimes stands watching the whole room. She is taking mental notes, storing them in her own chamber of secrets for later use.

J.D. leans in so close I can feel the heat from his body that hovers over mine. I can feel his hot breath at my ear when he whispers to me. “You best keep those ideas of yours in check Helena. I’ll mourn at your grave, but I will bury you just the same.”

I feel my heart skip at his calmness letting me know he holds no bluff between us. My stomach drops as he places a soft kiss upon my head.

“Why don’t you start a round of Kumbaya? Been a spell since you blessed us with that soft voice of yours in something other than screams.” To the room, it is a teasing jest. To J.D. and me, it is a further illustration upon his whispered promise.

S
lowly we all return to our roles to prepare for any possible danger from an outside group. We know what the Risen hold for us. They have one thought process to them. People are a different volume of threats. Risen will kill us. Humans will destroy us.

Chapel and I take back up the watch as the red haired woman begins to roll empty racks in front of the doors across the parking lot. We both know the flimsy metal on those thin wheels will do nothing to brace the glass doors as the Risen begin their entrance into the building. We also both know, that sometimes, it is better to try anything than to just sit and wait for Death to come. Any minute stalled giving one last chance of hope for that one more moment of life.

Each pitch of her scream causes another memory to dance through my mind. A past-life feeling of horrors is swirling together with her accelerating tempo of dread. They dance faster and faster in my mind, flowing from scene to scene. I stood by and watched each memory die as I am watching her stare at her death now. I was unable to stop it then. I was not prepared for the world to tilt the way it did, tossing us all around with the action of it. I was not prepared for Evil to jump forth from what we only knew as pages of books or shows on our televisions. Yet, it has. Evil is once again in front of me, preparing for another round, and this time I will not just watch.

Chapel stands beside me, still watching it all unfold. His mouth moves in what I know to be silent prayers. If it is for our souls or theirs, is the only question lingering unspoken in the air. His gun hangs lose at his side. Its holster is unfastened from the standoff with J.D. and its metal clasp is winking at me. His head turns to me slowly with his mouth still silently echoing the prayers in his head. I lower my eyes slowly to his chest, taking his eyes with mine. We stand there, his mouth still moving silently, as we stare at one another in our private frozen moment of time.

He nods and adjusts his torso, unblocking me from the gun with its flirtatious clasp. His eyes never leave mine as I wrap my hand around it, lifting it, removing it, and fulfilling its taunts with an almost seduction-like satisfaction. The cold metal is heavy in my hand, taking me by surprise with its weight. The world sinks down to just the face in front of me, with its silent prayers, as I realize what I have set into motion. I hope those prayers are for me.

I hear him remove the wooden barrier we have been hiding behind all this time. I hear the shouts rain down upon us, colored with confusion and anger. I feel his hand on my shoulder squeezing me with encouragement, and yet, that grasp coats me with anger at his weakness. The anger fuels my determination and I slide through our glass door with the sun watching me yet again. This time it has no heat. There is only coldness around me as if Death is also here to watch the show.

The first pull of the trigger snaps my hand back with the recoil, missing the target of the woman’s body in front of me. It lands further up in the pile as one staggers from the blow. His shoulder is forced forward nudging the body in front of him with a domino effect of accidental merit. They both freeze in the Risen’s form of awareness that something has changed. One by one, they all take on the sudden lack of movement. It is more frightening to watch than their attacks. I know their focus is about to become me. My heart gains speed with every extended second they stand there.

Shoulder by shoulder they turn to stare at me as they wait for their bodies to move in the new direction. Glazed eyes catch light again as I come into view for them, animating their limp bodies with renewed hate and hunger. The torn and rotting mass before me moves as one with their new hunt. Sounds of their stalking stir my own body with renewal and I lift the gun again.

My aim goes wide hitting only shoulders, chests, and the glass behind them. It only staggers the ones I do hit as their bodies react to the puncturing, but their minds never acknowledge the wounds. They cannot feel what is already dead. Only their brains are still alive in some inhuman fashion and that is the target I must find.

I exhale as the gap between us shrinks with each of my misses. They are in no hurry to reach me. What is left of their minds know that I am holding something that is a threat to them. Watching them, I am once again remembering that these are not the ones that were made to fill nightmares on wide-screen movies. No, these are walking nightmares of their own merit.

They are plotting the best path to me, separating into small groups to take me down. They divide before me, giving me more targets to worry about, as each group assumes a different speed towards me. To focus on only one side will be my undoing from the other side. They drag my attention to each section with their sounds, only for another group to start their own distractions, causing my shots to go wide in my panic. They are attempting to mentally tear me apart, reducing my threat to them, before they tear into my flesh.

They stalk towards me, waiting until the gap is small enough to rush me in their predatory killing style. I have seen them hunt before, and I force the images to stay buried as her laughter floats down the halls of my mind. My hands twitch with the feather soft memory of her gentle fingers. I inhale the scent of her baby shampoo and calm washes over me in a welcoming, numbing fashion. This time I can feel the slow draw of the metal trigger. The recoil has no jolting scorn. The target crumbles finally, fully broken upon the ground.

With each crumbling form I walk forward to meet them, filled with a new determination. The gap slowly folds around me, causing them to finally rush forward, removing all predatory hunting skills with their fierce terror-causing intentions. I answer each teeth-bared snarl with the snapping back of their head, bowing them backwards. I can see the store now through the clearing that is slowly forming with one still body after another. The doors are open and the two from before are now joined with another male. They stand watching with mixed waves of emotions upon their faces. Crimson gore slinks its way down the smiling vinyl faces of the open doors, framing them with a mimicking carnivorous mouth of foreshadowing.

I stand my ground, aiming at each walking nightmare before me. The perfume of my humanity fills them with a new frenzy of lust. Their vocal excitement escalates their hunger, driving each of them deeper into desperation to reach me with their flesh-torn limbs and skeletal fingers. I stand against an army of rotting demons and I wonder if my own army is still watching. Have they all turned their backs to help them sleep tonight? Is J.D. watching me with hopes of having his threat carried out for him? Will he still mourn?

Chapel’s clip snaps empty and I still fire twice more before I come to realize what that sound means. I reach for my knife and find the holster missing from its forever place at my side. My mind flashes a picture of it still under the pillow I was resting on, just a few moments ago, safe in his arms. How has the morning gone so wrong so fast?

There are still five Risen before me. They are frozen in the way only the dead can hold their poses. Their minds search to find the change in the situation once again. Only their eyes move as they mentally assess me. The one closest to me seems to grin as he reaches the conclusion of how vulnerable I am now, before the others do. It causes his dull eyes to slowly brighten with the dawning of it. I am transfixed by the changes melting over him before me. The calmness that filled me moments ago with determination evaporates watching him. I continue to dry fire Chapel’s gun in his direction. Each of the empty clicks spreads his wide grin into a snarl.

I know there is movement behind me, not from my own awareness of it, but because of his eyes. They were once so trained on me, but now they are watching something else. They dull again making his face slack as his brain once again seeks to figure out what is happening. Risen think and react, but it makes them slow, exposing a weakness for a few pauses in time as they try to interpret their prey. With their minds so engaged in the situation, their bodies seem unable to move. Just their eyes are watching, gathering, and plotting a new way to kill you.

His eyes follow something coming up behind me along the ground. With the rate of his eyes, I know it is coming fast and I instinctively look. The sun reflects off the metal blade sliding towards me. The metal is hissing along the sidewalk with its progress towards me like a snake warning those around it of the danger. My knife is coming home.

Over my shoulder, I see Aimes standing outside our Center as hands wrestle Lawless back inside. He is fighting to be free of them and pleading with me to come back. Kneeling to grasp my old teddy bear, I smile into those pleading brown eyes of my current one. Our eyes lock, draining him of his purpose. He knows I must see this through. The very thing that he once loved about me is now coming between us. I only hope he can forgive me. Aimes screams my name, bringing me back to myself. I realize too late the mistake I have made. I have turned my back on Death and the pause is over.

Pulling my body in tight, I wait with some mentally stored basic knowledge of self-defense. His hands grab me, forcing me still for his attack, and I wait, even as screams come from all around me. I watch our shadows slowly merge into one as he lowers his mouth to my flesh, and I still wait as my heartbeat fills my ears with its pattern. I hear his snarl so close to my face that the scent of his breath expels all air from my lungs, and still I wait, despite my body joining in with the screams around me. Her laughter floats all around me again, blocking out the world around us. Time slows down, dragging the rate of his attack with it, the stench of his rotting breath, sounds at my ear, even the caress of the wind around us slows, when I finally begin my own hunt.

My left arm swings up, locked at the elbow to take the shock of the attack, denying his reach for my neck as it collides with his face, tilting it sideways. My right arm follows the gravity of the attack, coming down on his tilted face. The blade slides with snapping sounds into the space between his temple and eye, pulling me around with the force of his fall. I stare at the nightmare crumpled next to me before removing the blade with a wet, sucking sound. Her baby soft laughter dances around us and I wonder, for my own pause in time, if I am finally losing my mind. A part of me truly hopes so because I still have four more to go.

I give no time for my body to reconsider my course of actions. If I am to pause to think of what I am marching up to, I will lose all confidence in myself with my brutal truths. The blade drips black crimson drops with every step I take like a personal drummer for this battle. The female Risen before me has been turned longer than the male. Her face has melted down to cling to her sharp cheekbones. The skin around her eyes is yellowed and bruised in coloring. Her lips are chapped and torn, shredding the tender flesh around them. Matted hair too heavy to sway is cut short, further emphasizing the decay of her face.

Her arms reach for me, seeking a target for her never-ending hunger that has become the only purpose left to her. I slide in between those deceptively weak arms of hers, keeping her body away from me with my own. I thrust the blade into her face forcing it to its hilt. I brace against her fall, letting her slide off the blade, coating it with more crimson material for the drummer to use. Three more.

The next to reach me appears as a female teen or young twenty-something. The stages of decay do not help with definite declarations of age. She is dressed in a tragic emo style, that now mocks her walking death, with its black fishnets and skull decorated dress. Her long blonde hair is a sharp contrast to the image she tried so hard to portray in life. Even with the added bright colors, now a stark contrast to the faded fabrics of her dress, she still never really was able to grasp the concept.

The flesh of her left shoulder is shredded, and torn, exposing bone and wetter objects. It is slower than the other arm due to its injury and I use that side as my opening. I never pause in my step, but reach up with such false bravery and skill, to plant the blade in my right hand into her temple. Her slower, damaged arm allows me to go untouched even as she falls before me. Two more.

The blade is slick now and slides around in my hand. The grip was never meant to be coated in such depths of blood and thicker matter as it is now. My palm becomes cold with the wetness that tries to wrap itself around my hand. The knowledge creeps into my mind of what I am doing and it is covering my heart in that much more stone. The drummer has picked up its tempo with the amount of splattering I leave in my wake, making a beat to my own demonic dance.

The last two jerk backwards with a loud echo that vibrates the area around us and I startle at their motions. I mimic them as I freeze in my path, trying to figuring out what has taken place, when I feel my body spin around with such force I brace for an attack.

Brown eyes swimming in anger stare down into mine as his hands clutch my shoulders steadying me from the effects of his spin. Even with the anger flowing from his body, my own melts into his with all my bravado gone. The blade falls to the ground with a final ending of our battle song as my arms wrap around Lawless, pulling him close to me.