Page 28 of Resurrect Me

“Calm down. Take a seat. I’m just pushing you, man. Look. I get it, guys. This is big. Huge, in fact,” I address the entire team. “You read about militias rising and overthrowing governments in history books. At least, the ones who win. And the guys who don’t win? They’re erased from history. And the victors go right on leading the country and sucking the people dry. I know it’s fucking scary, but how many people must lose their dignity, their lives, to satisfy The Org’s bloodlust? They say they’re trying to control the population so that humanity survives as a species. The truth is, they want to replace anyone who isn’t like them. It’s called Eugenics. And we can’t fucking let it stand. So, we must take a stand. Sometimes it takes destruction to pave the way for a new creation. The Revolution was about a lot more than just taxes. And this rebellion? This isn’t about money or power. This is about standing up for what’s right and saving lives. Stomping out The Org and their disgusting fucking agenda.”

I gaze around the table at the men’s faces. The fear in their eyes is morphing into something else entirely – ferocity. Determination. Fury.

“And if we win, well…” I continue, “We’ll do things right. We’ll turn the corrupt in. Let them rot in jail. Get the right people back to the top.”

“Here, here,” Reggie, Clyde, Shawn, and Thor say in unison and pound the table with their fists.

Chapter 17

Tacy

Another fucking week off work. I’m going out of my mind. Worrying about when the cops might arrest me. Worrying about my kids…what they are thinking and the trauma they’ve endured having their mother kidnapped and their house broken into. The list goes on. Losing their father. Worrying about who’s going to come for me next, or if I might be shot while out running errands. Worrying about how many more people will die on this medication Duselizab. And why they haven’t taken it off the market yet. To say I’m angry is an understatement. Ready to crawl out of my skin, shapeshift into a giant spider, spin these assholes up in their own webs and suck them dry is more like it.

I keep the alarm on and had the alarm company come out and install double back-up batteries. So even if the power goes out, the batteries will kick in. Odd, because I thought they had installed them already. My savior, Aris, a.k.a. my stalker, lurks two blocks away from my house every night. I see him drive past my house every day. I wonder what he does for a living and how he can just come and go at all hours of the day as he pleases. Does he have a job? A life? I can’t worry about his life right now. I have to worry about mine. I’m the one in the hot seat. Next item on the list – hire an attorney.

“What are you doing?” that comforting notification sound erupts from my cell phone.

“Looking for an attorney. Because the cops think I killed Orion Starkey,” I press send.

“I won’t let you go down for that, Tacy. I promise.”

“Good. Because the last thing I want to do is turn you in, but I can’t go to prison. I have two small children who rely on me. And their dad is dead.”

“I know.”

“How do you know me? I mean, you know everything about me and even had my phone number, but I have never heard your name in my life.”

“You took care of me a long time ago.”

I search my memory bank for patients with Aris’s build that might have flirted with me. There have been a few. But most of the folks I see are in bad shape. Since my floor handles mostly neuro-spine cases, we see lots of back pain patients in their older years and folks with neurological disorders. Too debilitating to allow them to follow a deranged nurse around and even save her ass from her former cult leader’s knife.

I mean, there was Sol, of course. My breath catches in my throat. Could this be Sol? No. Stop it, Tacy. Sol is dead. You saw his casket go into the ground…but you didn’t see his body. The funeral director assured me Sol’s body was too bloated to have a viewing or an open casket. But I identified his body initially. I think back to that moment at the morgue. The man had Sol’s tattoo on his upper right bicep, and he had Sol’s dark wavy hair, but was it him? I gave a positive ID. I was sure it was Sol. But now…I’m not so sure.

I can’t help but consider the uncanny similarities between my savior and Sol. Same height and pretty much the same build. Though Aris seems a bit bulkier. But that doesn’t mean Sol couldn’t have gained more muscle mass. His cock leans to the left, just like Sol’s. The fact that Aris seems to know everything about my life and knew there was a blind spot on the back porch.That phone call that Cammy took that I thought was a mistake. She swore it was her dad! Not to mention, Aris won’t show me his face or even let me hear his voice. How can I get him to admit it? If I can get him to visit me…I’ll just nonchalantly rip his fucking mask off. And if it is my dead husband, Solomon? I’ll kick his ass for leaving us like he did.

“I want to see you again,” I text back sweetly. “It’s comforting when you’re around.”

“Well, I’m right down the street, Babydoll. Always watching you.”

“That’s not what I mean. I want to see you. Up close. Like that night in the driveway.” Just the thought of it makes me wet, so I know it’s getting him hard. I taunt him. “That was so fucking hot.”

“You are so fucking sexy,” he replies.

“Why don’t you come over tonight?” I throw it out there. “You can keep the mask on. We can just talk outside.”

Oh shit, I forgot he doesn’t even want to talk to me. I need to rewind that.

“Or whatever.” Or whatever? What am I a teenage girl? Jesus. I’m a flustered mess. Which is interesting, because it’s the exact effect Solomon used to have on me. Even after a decade of marriage, he still made me nervous. I always wanted to impress him.

“Okay. I’ll be there around ten. Make sure the kids are asleep.”

Bingo. I got you, you death-defying bastard.

Aris

She wants to see me tonight. And talk to me. I’m installing a voice changer inside my mask. I’m beginning to wonder if she’s onto me. It’s still too early for her to know about me. I don’t want anyone outside of The Rebellis to know I’m alive. Then again…it’s Tacy. My wife. My ride or die. She would take my secret to the grave, if I asked her to. Still…it’s best to stay incognito.

I leave my truck in a parking lot on the other side of the woods beside the neighborhood. It’s an abandoned lot that was once used for commuters who worked downtown. Now, half of those businesses have been shut down due to rising property taxes, and the city has purchased the buildings. The Org is behind every shady business venture.

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