Page 6 of Resurrection
I turn in a circle, my anxious feet leading me nowhere. My fists open and close in frustration as I twist my neck back and forth—a sad attempt to fix the lingering unease from my shoulders. It does nothing to alleviate the stiffness hidden deep within my muscles.
I had to get out of that fucking house. Needed to breathe. To rid my brain of the past week, purge my mind and my heart of several of the worst days of my life.
I almost lost Aly to the horde on that godforsaken beach. Almost lost Cole, too. The pile of near deaths we’ve somehow managed to live through is becoming overwhelming. It’s only a matter of time before we finally snap, losing ourselves to the inevitable deaths waiting for us.
I never want to go through that again. Didn’t want to go through it in the first place. Unfortunately, the world and all its ravenous dead had other plans.
Aly.... I swear, even though we’ve made amends, she’s still not out of the weeds yet. At least not in my regard. She deliberately went against my orders to stay in the water, put herself in imminent danger, and then she...
She...
She fucking saved us all.
Those bastards were close. Way too close for comfort. If she hadn’t fired off those rounds into the air—distracting the horde and giving us those few seconds needed to escape—I have no idea if we would have made it to the lake in time. It wouldn’t have been just Cole on the chopping block that day; it would’ve been all of us. Nevertheless, I’m torn. My mind and heart split in two as I remember that day.
On our way to this place, as we dragged that delipidated boat through the water, inch by inch, mile by mile, I couldn’t help but feel immense pride at herstrength while simultaneously wanting to wring her neck and shake the living Hell out of her. I don’t know what to do. My mind is absolutely fucked. One minute I'm furious with her for what she did. The next, I'm so grateful she had the courage to do so. I have no idea how to reconcile everything that happened.
Am I happy we all survived? Fuck, yes. Do I look it? Probably. I don’t know. I’m a pretty damn good actor if I do say so myself, so my bet is on the affirmative. But after everything, am I actually ok? Deep down? No. I am not,the fuck,ok.
She scared the motherfucking shit out of me, and the rest of the guys if I'm being honest. I’m half-tempted to have a talk with Cole to see if he could use his specialized juju on all of us and help me get past the lingering emotions I can’t seem to work through. Not even my dark humor is helping and that shit is my fucking go to. It always works. But maybe, just maybe, the past few days have just been too much to laugh off or put on the docket for another day. Too much for all of us, by the looks of it.
Fucking Cole. I thought we were losing the bastard. Could’ve sworn we were witnessing his last breath exit his lips just before he miraculously took another. After I finished his stitches, he was out cold. Dead to the world. For hours.Days.Regardless of what we kept saying to ourselves—that he was going to be ok and wake up any moment—we couldn’t help but prepare for the worst.
And then...
I swear my heart stopped when I heard him.
“Go back to sleep, asshole.”
The drugged-up douche had no idea. No fucking idea what we all went through during his self-induced coma. But you can bet your left nut he got an earful from all of us once reality finally set in. He might have apologized. Might have explained what he’d done. Might have concluded why those pills suddenly took his ass out for almost two days straight instead of just the usual five-to-six-hour nap, but it doesn’t take away what it did to each of us.
Jax was going to shoot his ass for fuck’s sake! We all know what it did to him when that shit happened to Emma. That dark place almost sent him looking straight down the barrel of his own gun. Thank God Cole and I showed up and he never got the chance to see it through. But he’sstillrecovering from it. Every. Goddamn. Day.
I flex my knuckles again, causing pain to erupt from the area as I feel the scabs pull and break. A trickle of blood escapes the wound, reminding me of my reaction to Cole’s potential demise. One look at the hallway and the giant hole now placed in the very center is proof enough of what I went through. It’s not a secret, Cole and I have gotten close.Veryclose. Do I love him? I’ve always loved him. Just like I do Jax. But lately, I’ve found it’s a matter of which end of the spectrum that love for Cole falls on: platonically or intimately. When Cole was unconscious on the ground, and I thought that was it for him? It bulldozed both options, simply leaving oneundisputable fact: I love the guy, no distinctions or labels needed.
Aly? She reverted back to her panicked state. Jax told me how he had to talk her down when they went on their supply run. How she turned a zombie into nothing but minced meat on the asphalt simply from her rage. I’ve seen her hands. The way they won’t stop shaking. The sharp breaths I hear her taking from time to time in the dark corners when she thinks no one’s watching. She’s stronger after all of it. Oh, fuck yes, she’s stronger. But almost losing someone you love, suddenly and gruesomely? It fucks with you. Plain and simple.
Cole knows this. He’s not oblivious to the hazards of war. He’s lived it too. The brothers we’d lost overseas, they left a permanent mark on each of our souls. Sure, we miss them, mourn for them, but it’s those final minutes that stay etched into our minds. No matter how much either of us tries, or wishes, or hopes to forget those nights filled with screams and terror—the placating smiles you know won’t fix a damn thing—they never go away. They haunt your dreams and leave an ever-present reminder during your waking hours. A wraith that follows you everywhere you go.
I see one in Aly’s eyes now: Cole’s almost-death, etched into her soul. A permanent reminder that each of us is, in fact, temporary. She goes through the motions, though. Bringing him food throughout the day, along with more reasonably acceptable pain medication and antibiotic dosages. Helping him change his bandages. Applying more ointment to the cuts and scrapes.Assisting his stubborn ass when he needs to use the bathroom. Loyally, she remains at his side, never leaving the house.
Unlike Jax and myself.
The repetitive pounding followed by a final crack and thud points me in the direction of our fearless leader. Leaving the empty road behind me, I follow the noise around the back of the house until I come upon, what looks like, half the damn forest now chopped into pieces on the ground.
Looks like Jax is taking this just as well as I am...
“Stop playing with your wood, old man, or you’ll end up going blind!”
His head pops up from behind a pile of brush. “Old man? You’re older than me you fucking antiquity!” Skirting the mound of tree limbs, he meets me halfway, rubbing his calloused hands all over his pants before resting them at his sides. The motion unintentionally draws my gaze to the denim, to the streaks of blood left behind. No wince. No grimace. No hiding the stained fabric. It’s as if he hasn’t fully realized what he’s doing to himself. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t give a shit right now. With a lift of his chin, he asks, “What’s up, bro? How goes the patrol?”
“All’s good. Not a damn lurker in sight. Got anything that needs breaking?”
He turns back to look at enough lumber to build a fucking house with. Crossing his arms at the sight, he letsout a gruff sigh. “Yeah... probably shouldn’t cut down any more trees.”
“Uh, heh, I’d say so.” I tilt my head skeptically at my best friend. “You ok, man?” I don’t want to push, knowing his favorite coping mechanism is to brood, but I can’t help myself as I check-in.
He sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. “Yeah, just...,” his shoulders slump forward as his hand lifts, flinging out to the side in the direction of the house and then back to the pile of trees, “working through shit.”
