What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (10 page)

She left then, with her ridiculous trappings and her dangerous notions.  Jack did exactly as she suggested, turning away from her so-called “altar,” rolling onto his side slowly and painfully.  He couldn’t believe how weak he was.  He slid his hand along his side gingerly, exploring, and was shocked at how much weight he’d lost.  He lifted up the covers and gazed in dismay at his scrawny legs, poking like sticks out of the bottom of his boxer briefs, and his concentration-camp ribcage.  He let the covers fall and closed his eyes.

Over three weeks.  The implications of that were just now setting in.  She must have fed him somehow, kept him hydrated, or he wouldn’t be here to ponder it.  He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Oh, Lord.  She must have bathed him, too, and taken care of the most base of his bodily functions.  A dull flush started at his hairline and traveled all the way down to his chest.  No wonder she’d been so casual about touching him. “Mortification” didn’t begin to cover it.  To owe her this debt, her, of all people.  He didn’t know how to bear it.

Jack opened his eyes to stare up at the bright canopy, and felt his heart crack wide-open with despair.  Tears rose and ran down his temples, in a river he doubted would ever end.  “Blessed Father,” he choked, “Am I forsaken?  Did You take Your faithful home and leave me behind?”

He cried, for how long he didn’t know, too weak and heart-sick to attempt to stem the flood.  Then, exhausted, he slept.  When he woke, the sun had shifted to the opposite window.  He blinked swollen eyes open and stared at the golden light, alive and dancing with dust motes.  It took him long minutes to recognize what the sun was illuminating.

His Bible.  And the Crucifix that had hung above his bed.  There, on the other bedside table, beside a framed picture of his family.  He reached for the Bible, hissing against the pain in his side, and cradled the familiar, worn leather against his heart.  An unfamiliar bookmark caught his attention, and he opened to
Psalm 46:1-2
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the Earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.”

“I read to you.”  Layla’s quiet voice sounded from the door.  She was leaning on the doorjamb, watching him, her face in deep shadow and unknowable.  “When you were sick.  It seemed to calm you.”

“I love the Psalms,” he said, too undone and wrung out for subterfuge, or strategy, or righteousness.

“I do too,” she said quietly.  She didn’t speak for several long moments, and Jack became aware of the total silence of the house.  No rumbling refrigerator, no TV playing in the background, not a single sound related to electricity.  “I don’t reject all the teachings of Christianity, Jack.  Just the one that says it’s the only way to the Divine.”

Jack shut his eyes.  “I can’t talk about it right now, Layla.  I just don’t have it in me.”
              “I’ll let you rest.”

“Wait!”  His eyes flew open.  “Layla, wait!”  She turned, and he struggled to a sitting position, waving off her help.  “I want to thank you.  For everything.  For keeping me alive, when so many died.”  He looked down at the Bible, now in his lap, and smoothed a shaking hand over the cover.  “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.  I don’t know what any of this means.  I don’t know if I’m even happy that I’m alive, the way things are now.”

His throat closed up, and he struggled not to give in to tears again.  He could feel the needs of the community already pressing on him, and at some point, he had to reclaim his strength and the leadership that went with it.  He may as well start now.

“You’re not alone in feeling that way,” Layla said flatly.  “We’ve lost five people to suicide.  Their families didn’t make it, and they decided not to go on.  Three of them didn’t even do violence to themselves – they just closed their eyes and never opened them again.”

His heart ached for those lost souls, for more loss of precious life.  “Can you get me their names?  I’d like to pray for them.”

“I can do that.”

He had to find a way to build a bridge here, to help her understand.  He owed her that much, at the very least.  “Layla, I want you to know that it’s not…you.”  He laughed weakly, then winced as his ribs sang.  “That sounds like a break-up line.  Let me try again.  It’s not you as a person I object to.  It’s what you believe, and what you espouse.  I can’t condone it.  It contradicts what I believe to be true, right down to my bones.”

“You tolerate Judaism.  Islam.  Buddhism.  Even Native American Shamanism.  The kids have told me about the speakers you brought in to youth group.  Was all of that just an act for the kids, some kind of sideshow? For what purpose?”

She was firing up, and he was very nearly spent, struggling just to keep his eyes open.  He pushed his slumping body back up on the pillows, and tried to form a coherent reply.

“Oh, for pity’s sake.”  Her tone managed to convey exasperation and concern at the same time.  She marched to his side, and helped him slide down between the covers, rearranging the pillows for him.  “Sleep, before you pass out.  We’ll talk about this later, when you’re stronger.”

“Okay. Sorry.”  His voice was slurred.  Unbelievable, how quickly and completely exhaustion rolled over him.

She tucked the covers around him, a gesture that flooded him with memories of his mother, of comfort, warmth, security, safety.  Her hand smoothed across his brow again, balm and agitation, and tears started to leak from his closed eyes. 

In that moment, he hated her.  Hated her for her patience and gentle comfort, for her passion and fire, and for the confusion she made him feel.

She wiped his face matter-of-factly.  “Maybe someday you can tell me why you hate the way I celebrate the Divine so much.”

Jack was too tired to snort.  Not in this lifetime.  “I’d rather hear how you came to love the Psalms,” he managed, before sleep took him under.

              “Come with me.”

             
Piper looked up, startled.  She had lingered in the mess hall after she finished dinner, writing in the journal she’d started to keep and savoring a mug of almost-hard cider.  Someone, she figured, needed to document the changes the world was going through, even if her perspective was profoundly limited.

             
Brody Sanders stood in front of her table, staring down at her.  Well, this was a first.  He’d never spoken directly to her before.

             
“Excuse me?”

             
“Come with me,” he repeated.  No “please,” no explanation.  Just a command he clearly expected to be obeyed.  He towered above her, wearing the only expression she’d ever seen him wear:  stone.  Hard face, hard eyes.

             
“Uhm, do you mind if I ask why?”

             
“We need to talk.”

             
Piper narrowed her eyes.  Something about this was starting to feel very, very off.  “We can talk right here.”  She pushed the chair opposite her out with her foot.  Cordiality never hurt.

             
“We need to talk in private.”

             
Piper leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.  No way.  No way in hell.  She glanced around, and discovered they were the only ones left in the mess hall.  She could hear the rattle and clink of dishes being washed in the kitchen – that was usually her job, but this was one of her rare rotations off.  She gestured to the empty hall around them with a hand she hoped didn’t shake.  “This is private enough, don’t you think?”

             
Brody continued to stare for a few moments, then sat.  His movements were economical, controlled, powerful.  “You aren’t Noah’s woman.”

             
So this was it.  The showdown she’d been hoping wouldn’t happen.  She’d put off all three of her other suitors by hinting she was a lesbian.  Up until this moment, her biggest problem had been their conspiracy to get her together with Ruth, who really was homosexual.

             
“I’m not anybody’s woman.”  No subtlety, not with this guy.  “I’m not interested in men sexually.”

             
Brody’s stare hadn’t wavered since he approached her, and it didn’t flicker now.  “You’re lying.”

             
“Nope.  Sorry to disappoint.”

             
“It doesn’t matter whether you are or you aren’t.”  Brody reached across the table, and his hand circled her wrist.  He didn’t squeeze, didn’t hurt.  “I gave you time to choose.  You didn’t.  So now I’m choosing.”

             
Piper couldn’t help herself; she jerked her arm reflexively, but his hand didn’t budge.  Neither did her wrist.  “Let go of me.”

             
“No.”

             
Cold sweat slicked Piper’s underarms and sides, but she was god-damned if she’d let him see her fear.  “Look, let me be crystal clear, Sanders.  I don’t want to be your woman.  I don’t want to be anyone’s woman.  You can’t ‘choose’ for me, and I don’t know where you ever got the idea you could.  Now let go of my wrist before I call for help.  Somebody’s still in the kitchen.”

             
Sanders’ hand disappeared under the table.  It reappeared holding a semi-automatic pistol.  He laid the gun on the table between them.  “If you call for help, I’ll shoot whoever comes.”

             
Piper stared at him, incredulous.  “You have got to be kidding me.  Look, pal, I’m turning you down because I’m not into guys – it’s nothing personal.  You need to go find yourself a willing woman.  And here’s just a hint for you:  next time, try wooing instead of threatening.  Much more effective, I promise.”

             
His stare was starting to feel reptilian.  Had he even blinked yet?  “You’re the most expedient option.  We’ve scouted Walden and the surrounding ranches, but there aren’t many people left alive.  Only a few women, and none of them are appropriate.”

             
This was getting more surreal by the minute.  “So, let me get this straight:  You’re not even really attracted to me – you’re just looking to scratch an itch, and I’m your most ‘appropriate option?’”

             
His eyes did flicker then, sliding down her body like a cold, oily caress.  “You’re not unattractive.  And sex is a biological need.”

             
She jerked her wrist again, got nowhere.  “I’m speechless, Sanders.  I had no idea you were such a sweet talker.  You’ve made your pitch, I’ve turned you down, and I’m calling your bluff – you’re not going to shoot anyone.  Let me go.  Now.”

             
Sanders pulled her in closer, and leaned across the table.  This close, she could see that his eyes were a deep, true blue.  They might have been beautiful if there had been even a single spark of humor or warmth in them.  “Listen carefully.  I’m only going to explain this once, and if you don’t grasp it, I’ll give you an object lesson.  I’ve made a choice, and you will abide by it.  You came into this group with no skills and no value, and this is a way you can earn your keep.  You should consider yourself lucky that I won’t allow the others to use you.”

             
This could not be happening.  This was not the world as Piper knew it.  “You’re insane,” she whispered.  She couldn’t muster confidence or strength in her tone any longer.  “I’ll tell the others, and they won’t let you hurt me.  They don’t like you anyway.”

             
“They don’t like me, but they need me.  Ramsey’s dead, and I’m the only tactician.  And if you tell them, I’ll kill Jenny’s boy.”

             
Piper went light-headed.  Jenny, her husband Aaron, and their only remaining child, Caden, had just rejoined the group a few days ago.  Jenny was hanging onto sanity by a thread, and she couldn’t bear to let Caden out of her sight.  Her eyes clung to him no matter what she was doing, and it hurt to see how hard she was trying not to smother him.  When he was near her, Jenny’s hand rose and fell over and over, smoothing his hair, touching his arm, a soft rub of his back.  Unlike most 11 year-old boys, Caden tolerated the embarrassing maternal affection, obviously sensing his mother’s need.

             
Losing Caden would kill Jenny, there was no doubt in Piper’s mind.  She could not comprehend the casualness with which Sanders spoke of killing a child.  Noah had mentioned that Sanders had seen too much combat, had lost touch with his humanity, but this…this was beyond anything she could have imagined.  She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

             
His thumb moved against her wrist, and she was shocked to recognize it as a caress.  “I’m not a monster.  I just know how to apply pressure to get what I want.  I won’t be unkind to you.”

             
“I’ll leave.”  She blurted it out before she could think, but she couldn’t gulp the words back now.

             
“No, you won’t.  If you do, I’ll come after you.  And I’ll kill Noah.”

             
“You can’t just start killing people!  You’ll never get away with it – the rest of the group will turn on you!”

             
“Do you really think I can’t make it look like an accident?  Piper.”  It was the first time he had said her name, and it made her feel sick.  “It’s simple.  If you don’t capitulate, I will take them out one by one.  I don’t need any of them to survive, and it would mean more resources for me in the long run.  If you try to run, I will bring you back, and I will retaliate.”

             
Scrabbling, like a rat in a maze.  Piper had never encountered a problem she couldn’t think her way out of, and her brain felt like it was shorting and sparking as she frantically looked for a flaw in his plan.  Tactician, indeed.  She had not seen this coming, and she could not see a way out.

             
“If I could just have some time…” she began weakly, but he shook his head.

             
“You’ve had enough time.  Your decision right now is whether you come with me, or whether whoever is in the kitchen slips and cracks their head open because they didn’t see the puddle of water by the sink.”

             
As if on cue, the kitchen door opened.  She kept her eyes pinned to Sanders, and couldn’t suppress a wince when a familiar voice called out.

             
“Piper?  What are you still doing here?”

             
Levi.  It was Levi.  Shit, shit, shit – should she try to act?  Try to take Sanders by surprise?  Levi had been a soldier, too, surely he could…

             
He saw it in her eyes.  His hand tightened on her wrist, just enough to warn her.  He palmed the revolver and slid it into his lap.  “Go ahead,” he whispered.  “Try it.  I’d enjoy taking him out.”

             
Piper opened her mouth, but her voice was strangled by terror.  She cleared her throat and tried again.  “Nothing.  We’re just, uh, talking.”

             
Levi stopped beside their table.  Sanders shifted his grip so that his fingers were laced gently with Piper’s, and Levi’s eyes fell on their joined hands.  He frowned.  “Well.  This is…cozy.”

             
Piper stared as hard as she could at Levi, willing him to read her mind, to see her need in her eyes.  Under the table, Sanders shifted his foot so that it rested on top of hers.  Then, he pressed.  Hard.

             
Her eyes flew back to his and he shook his head, the movement so tiny, Levi didn’t see it.  He kept his eyes locked with hers, but spoke to Levi.  “Yeah, it’s cozy, and you’re a third wheel.  Beat it, Ramsey.”

             
“Piper?  Are you okay?”

             
“I’m fine.”  She forced the words out, hated how breathless she sounded.  “We’re just…getting to know each other.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

             
Levi was quiet and still, so still, Piper couldn’t help looking at him again.  He was frowning at her, his disapproval obvious.  “Well.  I guess there’s no figuring the fickleness of women.”

             
Idiot!  Her mind screamed.  Are you blind?  Can’t you see what’s happening?  Get over your god-damned preconceived notions about me and help!

             
Another warning press on her foot, and her eyes skittered back to Sanders.  He smiled slightly, the expression even more intimidating than his usual stone-face.  “No figuring.  Do us a favor and let your brother know Piper will be staying with me tonight.”

             
Another moment of un-godly tension in which Piper didn’t dare look away from Sanders.  He was a snake, about to strike.  Then, Levi moved away.

             
“Tell him yourself.  And turn the lights out when you leave.”

             
When the outside door had sighed shut behind him, Piper tried to yank free again.  Sanders tightened his fingers around hers so hard her knuckles cracked.

             
“No.  He’s watching through the window.  Lean across the table and kiss me.”

             
“No.”

             
“Do it now, or he dies, and his brother in ten minutes.”

             
When she still hesitated, Sanders let go of her hand and stood up.  “Fine.  Like I said, I’ll enjoy ending him.”

             
“No!”  Piper jumped to her feet and acted.  She slid around the table, stepped into his arms, and kissed him.

             
Sanders didn’t hesitate either.  His arms banded around her, one huge hand sliding to cup her buttocks, pressing her against the ridge of his erection.  Piper felt gorge rise in her throat; this had turned him on?  His lips were cool, slick and gentle against hers, and the gentleness made her angrier than she’d ever been in her life.

             
Mindful of Levi watching – she could feel his eyes – she broke the kiss as naturally as she could manage, and leaned back in Sanders’ arms.  She smiled sweetly up at him.  “Let’s get one thing straight, Sanders.  I hate you.  You are a pathetic abomination and-”

             
He slid his hand up to the nape of her neck, rubbed in what felt like a caress, then pressed on something that made her knees go out from under her.  He caught her weight easily, lifting her against him, then nuzzled into her neck, making it look like they were carried away by passion.  His mouth slid up the side of her neck to rest against her ear.

             
“You will never speak to me that way again,” he whispered.  “I can cause you more pain than you can imagine, and never leave a mark on you.”  To prove his point, he slid his hand higher, until his thumb was resting behind her ear.  He pressed, and Piper’s world went white-hot with pain.

             
She cried out, tried to arch away, but Sanders just hauled her closer.  He lifted one of her legs around his waist and ground against her, biting and suckling at her throat like a vampire.  Piper blinked frantically, trying to clear her vision, while his voice grated against her skin.