The Risen: Courage Read Free

to fulfill the task set to him. It’s endearing to see him falter so if it were not for the circumstances around it.
    Aimes would marvel in the fact of finally being the source of his discomfort. Her quick wit would dance with comments. Instead she is silent, grey, and the shocking contrast of it only adds to the fears that flutter inside me. All the times I have wished for her silence I would take them all back for just one bubble gum scented, smart-ass remark. Just for one eye roll giving finality to any argument with her silently expressed point of view. Please, God, don’t take my friend. Please, don’t deny me the chance to say the words that I have never said to her. I don’t need to hold her memories in the days that are left for me. I need to hold her hand.
    The white lace of her bra adds a frail beauty to the singed circle on her flesh. Paula’s examination allows red rivers to flow into her cleavage, pooling around pale flesh before slipping free to cascade to the tiles around her body. The contrast of colors between the rivers of blood and her skin’s tone stirs my soul to panic. The very imagery I was seeking to avoid with my weakness is laid before me, taunting me. I know if she dies here today on this cold floor, the memory of her fall will come find me tonight. It will replay a thousand times with my mind’s wickedness.
    “Paula?” My voice holds the questions my tongue won’t form.
    “I don’t know. If I dig to retrieve it, I will cause more damage. Did it pass through anything?” Paula is not exaggerating about the damage risk. With each new twist or tug of the singed circle, more rivers form with different speeds and currents.
    “No. Clean shot.” Rhett’s voice is the weakest I have ever heard. His coloring seems to be fading as the reds grow bolder.
    “You are absolutely sure of that?” Paula asks. I can see some of the tension loosening from Paula’s shoulders. The grim press of her lips is relaxing, allowing color to slowly return to them.
    Rhett and Chapel only nod. They are not sure if she is relaxing because of good news or if she is giving up. The weightlessness in my knees is also afraid of her answer. The room is tilting as I wonder if Death is again dancing in victory.
    Strong arms circle my waist. The man I feared was lost to me now supports us both in our moment of fear-laced truth that awaits the future of our friend. I wonder if J.D. is holding his breath with worry over what awaits her. In his moment of hell, did he know the outcome of his madness, or was he able to escape the knowledge of where his shots landed? I know without a doubt one of us joined the ranks of hell today. The only thing uncertain is if heaven will gain one too.
    “I can’t lose her.” I whisper to Lawless, who is the only thing keeping me standing.
    There is no return reply, just his arms that hold me a little tighter and a head that rests a little heavier on my shoulder.
    Paula is either ignoring us on purpose, or has completely forgotten us with her concentration. She has taken the bag from Rhett, placing Chapel’s hand over Aimes’ wound with thick, white gauze. I want to assume this is a good thing. She wouldn’t waste resources if Aimes was past saving, would she?
    Marxx seeing Rhett’s distress is giving him silent support with one hand on his shoulder while we wait. Rhett is a ticking time bomb of rage on normal days. Not even Marxx knows what to expect from his brother this dawn if we lose Aimes.
    So much betrayal and pain has been placed before Rhett, and when the tears settle, there are no promises of how Rhett will handle it. We are a huddled group awaiting news of our pixie, surrounded by the wails of those already mourning the ones they have lost. How will any of us handle what today has brought?
    “I think she will make it even with the blood loss. If it was a clean shot, with no added debris other than a small piece of fabric from her shirt, then the heat from the bullet will