Page 74 of Rising

When you lose someone you love, you don’twantto feel better, because if you feel better, you might feel happy. And if you feel happy, you might forget what it feels like to be happywiththem, and learn to be happy without them. And when you love someone, you want to feel that happiness with them, to feel it without them is to acknowledge their absence.

For me, there would never be the desire to live happily without my people I loved, my family. I couldn’t give a shit about my father. But my mother, my brother, Tiago, I’d die so they could live again. Everyone grieves differently, sure, and I chose to hold on to the pain. I deserved it.

“My brother, well. I wish I could say we had much longer after that, but I’d be a damn liar.” I shook her hand from mine. “He was sixteen when he died, a baby in the grand scheme of things. Life hadn’t even begun for him.”

There were plenty of habits of hers that I detested, but speaking without thought wasn’t one of them.

“Sammy was my best friend,” she started, her breath now shaky, in match with mine. “We started this together, us and Harley. I was so naïve, insane honestly, thinking we’d camp out at her place until the government got a handle on things. I mean, shit, I’d seen all the zombie movies. Just didn’t think it would be a reality. They killed her,” she said simply, “and I had to kill him.”

I gave her a moment, letting her settle with her thoughts.

“I was engaged in The Before. Not to Jax, but a sweet, sweet man,” her voice had gone soft, gentle. “Xavier. He was kind, always helping people, always trying to make people happy. Make me happy. Smart too. This world would have eaten him alive. Stained him.”

“I know what you mean.”

Her head shifted, leaning forward in curiosity, not realizing there wasn’t much space left. The soft whisper of her lips brushed against my ear as she spoke.

“We were planning our wedding when it happened. He was like your driver. Turned instantly. I didn’t know what was going on, but he tried to attack me. It was a fight to get out the apartment, but I … I didn’t want to hurt him, so I grabbed Harley and ran. It wasn’t until Sammy died that I went back out of necessity, the key to where all my guns were stored were back inside. Where I’d trapped him. Didn’t have any other options. Going to a gun store would be a moot point, and going unarmed for scraps would be stupid. I thought I’d be able to out move him, grab them and go but. Harley was just a puppy … she wanted to defend me but ended up in his …” She shuddered. “Her cry was agonizing, I just wanted it to stop. Then he turned on me, got my leg. I was scared, didn’t know you couldn’t turn back then, well wouldn’t.”

It wasn’t a contest, but relieving a burden.

“Death changes you, ruins you. It happens immediately, but you’ll deny it. The things you have to do, and part of you wants to justify it. Say you did it because you had to, out of necessity, for survival. Then after you’re responsible for so many, you begin to wonder what about you makes your survival more important than theirs.”

And then it clicked. She wasn’t just talking about the undead anymore. Her friends hadn’t said anything, they knew. I’d seen them watching her the way a mother watches her child in an expensive furniture store for weeks. She’d come close, the smell of alcohol hinting on her clothes as she passed by, as if she’d dropped a splash on accident, but never from her mouth. From what I could tell, she hadn’t had a drink since I’d arrived. Despite her friends’ reactions, and her abhorrent appearance the first few weeks, she seemed to have a pretty good handle on her drinking. Well, was coping in other ways, which is what had shocked me the night before we left.

Reina had offered her a drink, promising to cut her off before it was no longer appropriate. She’d hesitated, babysitting it until we’d gone around the room a few times refilling our glasses, before closing her eyes and downing it. Indulging, downing one after the other, a sad, tortured empty look in her doe eyes. I’d been fairly confident she wouldn’t drink. She’d appeared troubled enough over the decision that I’d started to assume the worst in her against better judgment. That was before she’d lost herself and ended up flailing around the bar and relying on Riley for support through their dancing.

In an instant, it clicked. She drank that night because she didn’t plan on making it back. The familiar feeling of guilt crept in, hating myself for caring.

“You mean Jax.”

“Jax, yes. Amongst others.”

“You don’t plan on making it back, do you?”

“No,” she whispered, “I don’t. Buttheyhave to. We don’t get along, you and I Alexiares, but I think part of why I can’t stand your presence is because I see part of myself in you. I know you’ll do what it takes to survive. I need you to promise me, on whoever it is life you’re trying to save, don’t think I’ve forgotten, to please, make sure they do too.”

Too close, I’ve gotten too close. I reacted without thinking it through.

“To ask me, of all people, after the show you’ve put on is hilarious. I’m not Jax. I’m not the good guy you can count on for favors. Ask someone else, whatever you’re trying to do, right here. Connect with me. It’s not happening. We’re here on a mission, nothing more. Take care of your own family. Move over.”

Amaia scooted back abruptly, taking part of the tent with her, realizing how close our faces had been. “If you stopped being such a dick, you could find your own family here, too. Riley and Moe really like you. Don’t let them down.”

“Or what?”

It came out as a joke but we both knew it wasn’t. “Or I’ll add you to my list of people to feel bad about killing.”

“My families dead. I don’t need another to mourn.”

“Can’t mourn if you’re dead.”

Amaia

Stevinson to Snelling was uneventful, despite the blistering heat. The further inland we went, the further away the windbreak from the Pacific Ocean was. Ninety-degree weather on top of a sweating horse, was miserable.

Snelling was one of those cute towns you’d see in someHallmarkChristmas movie, but slightly less charming. It truly was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farmland and water. Merced River made it easy to cool off. The horses drank while we all splashed, enjoying the frigid, rushing water. We caught a few fish, munching as we took advantage of what was left of daylight, letting my fire roast them into a flaky bland, yet satisfying meal. As evening came, Seth and I agreed the town was small enough to go straight through and find a place to hunker down for the night. Settling for a modest home that was somewhat well reserved.

I’d started to become skeptical. The further out we went, the more I’d wondered where The Pansies were coming from. We’d encountered a few, but nothing dense enough to pose a threat to any respectable unit or community. And none had moved with the cadence and competence of the ones we’d faced near Monterey, nor what our neighboring settlements had either.

---