The Last Revenant (Book 1): The Crash (8 page)

“Don’t do it.” I looked at Ryan and I tried my best to choke back tears.  I knew he could tell it was me talking, even under all the blood and swelling. I looked at Scott. “Don’t kill him. You don’t have to.”

Scott stared, eyes wide, short on breath and not sure of what to do, but the knife didn’t move. He looked at Jeremy for an answer but didn’t get anything. I could see fresh trails of blood start to open up underneath Ryan’s chin as Scott's hand began to tremble and turn white around the handle. I let it out again. I wasn't even sure if anyone else could hear me, though I didn't have to wait long.

The blade fell away. Scott brought his attention back to me, glaring, hands balled into fists. He was furious. He had wanted the kill and I had deprived him of the satisfaction.

“Forget about him,” said Jeremy. “We gotta move.”

“Hold your fire!”

We turned around to see a trio of Ryan’s men behind us, guns at the ready. One of them held Amanda by the waist as she fought to break free. Another group emerged on the reverse side with Simon, Murphy, and Mike, all of them defenseless and freshly bruised. We were surrounded. Even if Ryan had been killed, we would have never made it out. Our only warning came from one of the guards that would have shot us in the back.

“Drop the guns or you all die.”

He was right, but nobody moved. They were too tense. Nick and Jeremy kept their guns up. Someone just needed to say the word.

“'I'm not gonna—”

“Stop.” Jeremy held a hand up. “Just hold on. Okay...” He held his rifle in front of him and slowly lowered it to the ground.

Nick shortly followed suit while the fire continued to burn at our flank. The smell of burning hair and meat made me want to gag. We raised our arms and the armed men shoved us all into a group. One of them helped Ryan onto his feet. He tried to dab at his face with a towel but was pushed away.

“Get the fuck off me,” Ryan spat. Most of the blood had managed to been wiped off, but his flesh was still badly deformed, the copious amount of cuts and swelling misshaping his face disproportionately. He took his pistol back and pointed it at us. “Get them down. I want them all in a line!”

His men hesitated. One of them started to protest. “They’re not even—”

Ryan grabbed his collar and screamed into his face. “I don't care. Fucking move them! NOW!”

He barked his orders and the men followed suit. I could see someone bring Martha from around the corner. She nursed a busted lip and continued to fight again as Ryan yelled at the man holding Amanda.

He pointed his gun at her and she began balling her eyes out. “Her too. I want them all on their knees.”

Martha yelled and someone held her back. Scott couldn't take it. “You son of a bitch!” He tried to fight but was easily kept at bay. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I felt dazed as my knees hit the ground to join the line, four people on either side of me, my new friends.

Ryan hobbled over and pointed his gun down at Scott’s head, right next to mine. “You wanna know what my problem is, Scott? You don’t belong in this world.” His words were slurred and splattered with the blood from his mouth, but the message came across. He pressed the pistol down against Scott's head. “Here. Let me help you...”

I watched the trigger pull back and whatever final thoughts had passed through Scott's mind now fell on the rest of us as he hit ground lifeless. My ears hurt from the immense pressure wave, ringing as if every drop of blood on the side of my face reverberated like a bell, but Ryan continued.

He placed the gun against Jeremy’s head and I could barely make out my own voice.

The feelings instantly came back again. “Don’t! Please, don’t. You don’t have to do this.”

Ryan only looked over and scoffed at my attempt to beg. “Look at the low hanging brass on you. Do you really think it matters who dies?”

I tried to rack my mind for an answer. We were completely out of options, but we could still talk. I thought if I chose the right words I might be able to get him to stop. “Killing him isn’t gonna change anything.”

Ryan groaned at that and lowered the gun, looking up at the dark sky, and even managed a curt laugh.

For a naive moment, I thought it might have worked.

He stepped in front of me. “You must think you’re a saint.”

“No—”

“Do you really think you have all the answers?”

“No, I—”

“Why do you think you’re better than everyone else?”

“I’m not!”

“FUCK NO, YOU'RE NOT!” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me through the dirt. I struggled and swung my arms, helpless, until he threw me into the tent that had been next to mine.

My chest hit the ground and I strained to look up as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could barely make out a cot. A clear bag of liquid hung from a piece of metal and ran down underneath the sheets. My heart sank even lower than I had deemed possible.

“Do you know who that is?” Ryan grabbed me by the hair again and dragged me to the side of the bed, forced me down onto my knees and pulled my head up to look at the body. “Do you recognize him?” Nothing would have blocked the tears.

I did.

Ryan pressed the gun up against the back of my head and forced me to look closer at the lifeless face. “I said, DO YOU RECOGNIZE HIM?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t stop crying. The word barely made it out as I stumbled to cope.

“He died this morning. Guess who killed him?”

I did...

“You did.”

I shook my head.

I couldn’t have done this...

“You did this, Jessica.” He tore small pieces of paper from the man’s hand and shoved them in front of my face. “His wife and daughter...” He let go of the pictures and they fluttered down onto my lap. “Who the hell do you think you are now?” He tossed me away and stormed off outside.

I could hear the commotion. I could hear Amanda scream as a gunshot rang out. 

Then two more.

I trembled as the bursts of light flashed across the lifeless body in front of me. I doubled over onto my side and cried next to the man that I had shot in the field. I had never even known him, but I knew what he had gone through, just like what Scott and the people I had known outside had gone through and what I’d soon come to know on a personal level.

Killing changes everything.

I had left the city before The Crash.

My dad had decided that we’d be better off taking our chances away from the crammed streets, cars, houses, people, and shitty attitudes. None of us had thought that it would be necessary, but he had been right. By the time we had gotten everything packed up in our newest all-wheel drive SUV, we had hit the road without a single problem. We had left early enough to miss the panicked gridlock and overly emotional mayhem of mass exodus by a few weeks. For all I knew, his early thinking had probably saved my life.

Sarah and I had watched the scenery unfold through the windows in the backseat of our car. It had been strange to see just how open the world grew after only a few dozen miles away from home. It had almost been a revelation to see how I had confused my size within the immensity of a big world, that whatever I had gotten used to seeing was not in fact the edge of the earth. We had barely muttered any words to each other because we had known that we had left our home. We had the hope of coming back, but that’s all it had been, nothing concrete, no definitive plans.

Just hope.

The memories fluttered across my eyes as I bounced in the back of a pickup truck speeding down a dusty road away from camp Maxwell. My hands had been tied together and I had been pushed into the back of a car with everyone else, everyone except for Scott, Simon, Mike, and three of Ryan's men. They had all spent their last days there.

I looked over at Nick as he stared off into the distance behind me and I wished I knew what he was thinking. He was one of the few that had not wanted to leave and probably didn’t want to come back for me when he had gotten the chance, but he had, and two of his friends were dead because of it. None of us had managed to say any words to each other, but as the car started to slow down, I found myself thinking that maybe I didn’t want to know what was on his mind after all.

Our short convoy whined to a stop in front of a small outcrop of houses, brake pads audibly worn and in need of repair. I could see the loose formation of different buildings that curved away from us like a circle drawn in front of a bug, with thicker grass, trash, and other subtle signs of life everywhere I looked. I could tell we had reached the outskirts of a new town.

Ryan was the first one to meet us as he hobbled over to the back of our truck, his face still horribly scarred. He flashed a pocket knife and gestured for our hands. I watched as he cut the windings of rope around Nick’s wrists first before I offered my own.

“Don’t say anything,” said Ryan. “Don’t talk to anyone. Do not leave my site.” He pocketed his knife as I rubbed my sore skin. “Do you understand?”

No.

I didn’t want to understand. I didn’t want to talk to anyone and I didn’t even want to be there. I wanted him to bring back the people that he had killed. My thoughts boiled over when I noticed the wedding band around his finger again. I wanted to muster up as much poison as I could offer, but the words ended up coming out hollow and still. I was emotionally and physically drained. “Did your wife understand?”

His face contorted, hurt, and I expected him to argue, but he must have decided it wouldn’t have been worth the effort. He took a step back and opened the tailgate dryly. “Get the fuck out.”

I jumped off and my gaunt feet struggled to keep pace with the depressed procession that began to flow out from our trucks. I found myself hoping that the quiet march was from exhaustion and not dread for where we were going. I quickly got my first clue.

We passed a large sign distinguishing the start of the town and I stopped just in front, one foot from where we had come from, the other now in Arrino, Kansas. Just below and chained to a metal pole, a mangled body decayed to the point of visible bone structure beneath tattered clothes harbored a plaque around its neck. It was a makeshift omen to anyone too different than the rest.

“NO SEDS”

The words stared back with impunity. I didn't want to move.

I started to wonder what I would have to gain, if anything, if I immediately decided to turn and run away in the opposite direction. I would undoubtedly be shot in the back. I would bleed and squirm in pain and probably die a horrible, dreadful death. I looked back up at the sign for an answer. Would Arrino, Kansas, be any better than that?

I was quickly prodded forward. I didn’t have to wait too long before we walked up to a pair of sedans parked perpendicular to the road, an obvious road block, and a pair of men popped out from behind them to lean rifles against the hood of the cars.

A third joined to shout at us. “Stop or we’ll shoot!”

We stopped, though nobody really seemed to mind.

Ryan took the lead and held his hands up. He walked forward and stopped about halfway out. “Shoot all you want, asshole. I know you ‘aint gonna hit shit all day.”

His respectful candor was only met with silence as we watched the men talk among themselves for a moment. I dared myself to look away to try and see Jeremy, but I couldn’t find him.

Ryan spat on the ground and casually rested his palm on the top of his holstered gun. “Any day now, ladies...”

The lookout seemed to relax as a fourth man hopped over the debris and walked over to us. He looked too tired to be in charge. Or maybe that was why people listened to him. “Ryan?”

He met that with more spit. “Martinez...”

“Fuck. Why didn’t you say it was you?” He looked the rest of us over a moment before coming back to him. “And what the hell happened to your face?”

“I can still see, dipshit.” Ryan pointed at the improvised garrison. “And those aren’t my men.”

“They aren’t mine, either.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Yeah… No. We’re stretched a little thin right now.” He paused to look back at Ryan and smiled. “You really look like shit, by the way.”

He didn’t think that was funny.

Our group followed Martinez on foot as he lead us further down the road, but I never would have guessed that we had been moving closer until he had said so. It felt like I had stumbled into a rural town that had never gotten the pleasure of being recognized on a map. The grass had been starting to bend and turn yellow everywhere I looked. Even the handful of people that we passed stared away with sunken faces and didn’t bother to pay us any attention. It was like the whole town was giving up on itself. I stared at the back of Ryan’s blazer as he walked in front of me and I wondered if he had been slowly sucking the life out of everything around him.

“You know,” said Martinez. “We were starting to think you wouldn’t be coming back.”

Ryan merely scoffed at that, and we all stopped at a longer building that curved away at the sides, the numerous plotted flowers in front wilting in silent protest. “There’s food and water in the trucks. We’ll unload it when we get a chance. In the meantime go ahead and give these guys something to do.”

“Like what?” said Martinez. “We’re still waiting for everyone else to come back. Practically half of us are still out looking for supplies. ”

Ryan took a look at me as if I was supposed to know. He rolled the wedding band across his finger. “We came back light. See if they had any family here.”

“You're serious?” Martinez took the moment to pear at Ryan's face, then the silent crowd in front of him. “So what happened out there, exactly?”

Ryan pointed at the scars on his face. “Don’t know. I didn’t see shit.” He gestured me to the doors in front of him. “Jessica, you’re with me.”

I took a step over the curb and looked back to try and see some familiar faces before they all left. I didn’t want to be alone again, but nobody I knew caught my eye. I followed Ryan inside.

He led me into a long hall as we passed glass cases filled with trophies. The walls on either side of us were lined with pictures of little kids with their names written illegibly just next to them. It had been a while since I had stepped into an elementary school. Back then it had been to pick Sarah up from her rehearsals for the school play with all her friends, but now I looked away from the surrounding faces and focused on the stained tiles in front of me. The man I had killed had a daughter who would have looked like any one of them.

Our footsteps continued to echo down the hall as we kept walking. Without the flurry of activity that it had once held, the cavernous expanses seemed distant and cold. It was an uncomfortable silence that only broke when Ryan stopped to unlock and open a door on the side.

“Wait here.”

The words were simple, direct, but the commands were already starting to drive me insane. I glared at him for a moment, fully aware that I couldn't do anything to stop him. I would have to bide my time. I walked inside and he quickly locked the door behind me.

I barely took another step into the classroom as seven other wide-eyed girls peered at me from their desks. I could feel my limbs slowly start to fill with dread as I watched each rosy cheeked and soft skinned little girl stare back at me with timid adolescence. I was the biggest one in that room by far. The oldest couldn’t have even been past high school, but their silence was deafening. I should have killed Ryan when I had the chance.

The tallest one spoke for the rest. “Who are you?”

I had to think about it for a moment. It wasn't every day that I stumbled into what seemed like a makeshift lecture hall for the town's new up-and-coming local whorehouse. “Tess...”

“I'm Rachel.” She paused for a moment and eyed me, unsure. “Have you been here before?”

I shook my head. I was surprised to hear her candor. I had never thought anyone in high school could have been so direct. Compared to everyone else in those years, I must have been a nervous little shit.

It made me think back to my college days. As recent as they were, they still felt so far away, almost like a distant planet. What would it have been like to actually attend a class like the one I had found myself in? The teacher would still probably use the entire first day to cover the syllabus.

Objective #1: To turn all of you sweet little girls into sweet little whores.

Reminder: Purchasing the overpriced textbook course material is required, because just when you'd think the price of your tuition has raped you enough, you'd be wrong.

I tried not to freak out. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

She was younger than Sarah.

I rocked on a heel, trepid on how to continue. I nodded vaguely into the small crowd. “What about you guys?”

They each took turns calling off their age in shy increments, the youngest being fourteen. Apparently Ryan had a limit after all. I was just glad not to see Amanda sitting in front of me.

I took a good walk around the room. There wasn’t anything to work with. I wasn't sure why I had thought otherwise. It made sense that Ryan would stick us all in a classroom. It was secluded, filled with bright colors and would always hold a certain sense of familiarity. I stopped at the sight of a little puppet next to a poster that said, “
You can do it!”
And I wanted to punch it in its goddamn smug little face. “How long have you been here?”

“Since this morning,” said Rachel. She must have stared at me while I tried to open a window. “You’re really not from around here, are you?”

I gave up on that endeavor. “Not really.”

They just stared at me with their beady little eyes. I couldn’t picture what life was like for me seven years ago, but I sure as hell had not remembered it as being that fricken small. It aggravated me that they were stuck in their situation and it was even worse that they couldn’t see what to expect.

I caught a few of them shoot a glance at my chest. I was nothing special by a long shot, but it was hot outside, I was dirty, and they averaged fifteen while I was going on twenty-two. I couldn't blame them. I should have told them that the auspicious mounds in question would often prove to be too problematic most days, though they still held their magical powers. Apparently mine couldn't get me out of trouble, much less a locked room.

Story of my life.

I walked back to the front and started rifling through the teacher's desk, slowly developing a feeling that Rachel usually kept a keen eye.

“What are you doing?”

“What's it look like I'm doing?” I found a thin pair of scissors and it made me question my knack for finding improvised weapons. I walked over to one of the windows and tried to pry it open.

“They said we’re not supposed to leave.”

“Did they?” I swore under my breath as the blades skipped and flew into the glass, scratching it. I started to buff out the mark for a second before I realized it wouldn’t matter. It was an old habit, and Ryan was obviously planning on using the classroom as some kind of orientation for his own little sex slaves. I’d be better off burning it to the ground.

I tried again and almost stabbed myself. I hit the glass with the palm of my hand and took a breath, blowing at the strand of hair that managed to find its way in front of my face. I couldn't keep my hands still. I couldn't think. I couldn't even remember when the last time I had gotten any sleep. How could I?

I had watched someone get executed just next to my face, a memory so recent that I could count the passing hours on my hand, but I had not seen it coming. How the hell had I not seen it coming? How could Ryan...?