The Survivor Chronicles: The Risen Read Free Page A

the
truck.
    "What's wrong?' he asked when they were away
from the others.
    Mary Ellen glanced at where they'd left
Rochelle before turning back to him. She kept her voice pitched low
while she spoke. "I know Rochelle really likes you…"
    "I think of her like a little sister!" he
gushed out.
    A small smile curved Mary Ellen's mouth as
she shook her head. "I know, I didn't mean anything like that. I'm
not saying she has a crush on you or anything, but that she simply
likes you. She looks up to you and she sees you and Carl as
friends. I think she thinks of you like brothers too. You make her
laugh. Besides, if I thought you were looking at her in that way,
I'd kill you."
    John almost laughed at the matter of fact
way she stated that, but the fierce look in Mary Ellen's eyes and
her fisted hands made him change his mind. He may be stronger than
her, but he had no doubt Mary Ellen would kill him, or anyone else,
that tried to hurt her daughter. He had to respect and admire her
for that but he knew he would do the same thing.
    "She hasn't been doing a lot of laughing or
smiling lately," he said.
    Mary Ellen rang her hands before her, her
brown eyes were pleading as they held his. Her dark brown hair had
been pulled into a ponytail that highlighted the planes of her
broad face. Even dirty and disheveled, with that strained look upon
her face, she was still hot. John shook his head to clear it of that notion, now wasn't exactly the
time.
    "No, she's not," Mary Ellen agreed. "I've
tried talking to her but she won't open up to me."
    "Do you want to ride in the truck with
her?"
    Mary Ellen looked torn as she glanced
between him and Rochelle again. He hated the idea of riding in the
car with Peter, and a shudder went through him at the idea of
taking Bobby's place in the car. He would ride with Riley, Xander,
and Al if Mary Ellen said she would prefer to stay with her
daughter.
    "No," she finally said. "No, she won't talk
to me and she needs someone to talk to right now. Bobby's death
really hurt her."
    "It really hurt all of us." John went to run
his fingers through his hair but then he remembered that it had
been a couple of days since he'd been able to do anything about
cleaning it. The idea of touching it right now made his upper lip
curl. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he shoved them into
his pockets and hunched his shoulders up. "I'm not so sure I'm the
best person for her to talk to."
    "You're not the worst either," she said.
    "I'm not good with words."
    "You can speak them can't you?"
    He couldn't help but grin at her. "They're
not always the right ones. Are you sure it's not just hormones
bothering her?" he mumbled and shifted awkwardly.
    Mary Ellen's eyes widened before she
released a small chuckle. It was good to hear someone laugh, at
least a little, again. "No, not this time at least."
    "What makes you think she'll talk to
me?"
    "She has to open up to someone, you're
closer in age to her than I am and she trusts you." John wasn't
entirely sure what he was supposed to say or do for Rochelle, but
Mary Ellen took hold of his arm and squeezed it. "If you'd prefer
not to, I'd understand."
    "I'll talk to her, or I'll try at least," he
assured her.
    "Thank you." Mary Ellen smiled at him before
releasing his arm and heading toward where Donald, Josh, and Peter
stood by the Caddy.
    Taking a deep breath, John turned and headed
back to the open passenger side door of the truck. Rochelle's head
was bent; her gaze on her hands folded before her. Grabbing hold of
the handle, John pulled himself into the cab of the truck and
settled in beside her. Carl was standing at the front of the truck,
smoking a cigarette while he and Al studied a map. John grabbed the
Twizzlers off the dashboard, he held them out to Rochelle but she
shook her head no.
    John leaned back in his seat. He didn't know
what to say to her but when he grabbed one of the licorice sticks
from the bag, he recalled something he used to do as a kid. "You
know what one