A/N: Howdy, folks! So this is the Alpha chapter, but I ended up having to split it into two parts because otherwise it would've been ridiculously long. Also, trigger warning for things getting pretty gory and violent in parts, for cult behavior, brief mention of drug use and self-harm. And a small warning for Alpha just being a horrible person. Today's chapter song is "The Gospel of John Hurt" by alt-J, which I think fits pretty well. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it means the world to me. Hope you enjoy!
10. The Gospel of John Hurt
In town, it was never quiet. The dead just refused to ever fucking shut up.
Night or day made little difference. The rotted cunts roamed back and forth through the streets, growling and moaning in their eternal search for food. She ordered her Wolves to use as many of them as they could, in traps or experiments or wherever the hell else they might serve their purpose. But short of spending every hour of every day dispatching them, there was nothing for it but to coexist.
It was getting a little old.
It was also exactly why she was starting to hate those Alexandrians about as much as she hated Negan. Which was to say, quite a fucking bit.
Restless, she sat up in bed, jostling the form next to her. She couldn't remember this one's name. It was something starting with a C…Claire? Callie? Christa? Whatever. She was a new recruit. Enticed to the group with the promise of pills, and convinced she was safe by the things Alpha could do with her tongue.
As of late, of course, they were running a bit short on their usual drug supply, thanks to those two little shits at the hospital. But Alpha could admit—privately—that that was also partially her fault. She'd given the okay to use the real pills versus fakes on the idea that anyone looking for such high-quality drugs would know the difference.
And she'd counted on whoever attempted to steal them to, you know, not escape. She didn't know when she'd become so overconfident in her Wolves but that was clearly a mistake.
"What's going on?" Cora…no, Caroline…C-cup, Average Ass asked.
"Shut up and sleep or get out," Alpha replied, too tired to pretend she gave a shit. Dressing quickly, she exited her apartment.
From the slant of the sun through the stairwell windows, it was a little past noon, the earliest she'd woken up in a while. Work now demanded she spend most of her waking hours by moonlight.
She made her way down to the fifth floor, not bothering to knock as she strode into one of the apartments.
Murph was in his converted office, hunched diligently over dozens of papers that made little sense to Alpha. His gray hair was unkempt as it always was, but his eyes retained their youth.
She leaned next to the window overlooking his desk. "Any progress?"
"Well, Miss, I'm starting to think there may not be any more progress to make at this point." He didn't look up as he spoke, too busy scribbling his incoherent notes.
"Really? You seem pretty preoccupied for someone with nowhere left to go."
Before he could reply, a woman bounced into the room. Her brown curls were matted as usual, tangled with leaves and mud, her pale face painted with smears of decayed blood. The energy she exuded was always just a little too much to deal with.
"Mornin', Alpha—or I guess it's afternoon. I'm glad I found you! I scrounged up two more today!"
"Two more what? Chill pills? That's a relief."
She laughed. "You're such a kidder. No, specimens! Copperheads, in fact."
"Nice additions," Murph mumbled, eyes darting back and forth over the pages.
"Coyote, why the hell are you telling me this? Stick to procedure. Take them down to the basement for extraction. You don't need to bore me with a play-by-play each time you have a little adventure."
"Because I have other news. I'm pretty sure it's somethin' you'll wanna hear." She raised her eyebrows enticingly.
Alpha sighed. "What?"
"Well, I was close enough, I figured I'd check in on Alexandria."
This wasn't unusual. Alpha had ordered all of her Wolves to keep tabs, whether they were assigned reconnaissance or not. Running any errands pretty much meant a stop by either the Sanctuary or the Safe Zone.
"Looks like there really is an alliance between them and the Kingdom. Your Mason was at the Safe Zone, training two of 'em. One was that blonde girl from the hospital."
Alpha stilled, muscles going rigid. Fuck.
"And the other one?"
"I don't know. We've seen him before, don't know his name. He's the big one with the mullet."
She nodded. "Training them to fight?"
"Yep."
Given the Kingdom's relationship to the Saviors, there was only one other reason they would be forging this alliance, that Mason would be teaching some of them to fight. Apparently their help with the most recent attack wasn't just a one-time thing.
"They're getting ready to fight us."
Coyote's brow furrowed. "Didn't we already know that…?"
Alpha curled her lip. "The Kingdom, you idiot. The Kingdom."
"Oh. Yeah, probably. But that doesn't mean they couldn't use this alliance for other things."
"She's right." Murph finally looked up, rubbing his bushy gray mustache. "It's bad news, of course, for our efforts, but—"
"Bad news? That's three communities now. Three fucking communities we're at war with."
And it had to be hers. It had to be the Kingdom, the one they'd left alone for a reason.
Murph cringed. "W-well, yes, Miss, but… Maybe with these new allies, the Kingdom will feel confident in challenging Negan's regime? And even if that's not the case, well… You asked me how I could seem so preoccupied when I've hit a wall as far as my research. It's because I think I may have found something else, something more than potential leverage. Now, it'll take time, but—"
"What does 'time' mean? A month? A year? I need something today."
"I'm sorry, Miss. This will take significant time, depending on…well, sheer luck. But if my theory is correct, it will be worth it to invest that time."
His face was earnest, his gaze steady. He didn't quail before her anger like he normally would.
After a beat of silence, she said, "Tell me."
Four years prior, by approximation of moon cycles
"Come on!" Mason called from below the window.
Before Gina could make a move to follow, the dresser crashed behind her and the cacophony of the dead drowned the room.
Gina snarled and dropped Naomi's limp frame. She spun on instinct, grabbed Will's corpse and tossed him to the invading dead.
Most took the bait, giving her time to yank a drawer out of the tipped dresser and start swinging. It was more unwieldy than the poker, but it did the job.
"Nick!" she shouted. "Prop up that fucking mattress, make yourself useful!"
She didn't look back to see if he listened. The dead feasted on Will, but more and more stumbled through the door, fixated on Gina.
"Out of the way, out of the way!"
She jumped back as Nick charged forward with the mattress and slammed it against the doorway. The dead resisted, bowing the mattress with their weight. Nick clenched his teeth, every muscle in his wiry body straining to keep them back.
"Hold it," Gina ordered. "Hold it for a minute."
She took out the rest of the dead in the room, including the ones distracted by Will, then righted the dresser and shoved it and her own body up against the mattress.
"Now what?" Nick said.
"The window," Gina replied.
"I don't think we can get Naomi out that way. At least, not with enough time to get away from the dead."
Frustration boiled her blood. They should just leave Naomi behind. Fucking dead weight.
Nick apparently read this in her face.
"You crazy bitch," he hissed. "We are not leaving her behind!"
"Relax, fuck… I'm just considering every option."
"That's not a fucking option, Gina."
"Alright, alright."
She rearranged her features into the mask she normally wore. The current predicament had stripped her of it, but she couldn't afford for Mason's friends to see what lay underneath. Until she and Mason were together again, she had to keep in their good graces. The end of the world hadn't changed that.
"Window's still our best bet," she said. "If we can climb onto the roof, get a better view…maybe there's a place where the herd is thinner. Mason made it out but only because she's fast. Naomi will be too slow."
Nick eyed her shrewdly, angrily, but after a beat he nodded. "Who's going first?"
In the end he did, after arguing that he'd be the only one able to pull Naomi onto the roof. Gina kept her mouth shut, but if it looked like Naomi was going to drag them down, she'd dump her into the herd herself. Call it an unfortunate accident.
They added the box spring to the makeshift barricade, though they knew it would only hold for so long. Gina guarded the door while Nick perched on the windowsill and hoisted himself up.
"Okay," he called. "Send Naomi!"
She was only half-conscious, so it was an effort getting her to the window. The dead snarled below, pawing uselessly at the siding like they might Spiderman their way to the second floor.
Gina shook Naomi. "Listen to me," she hissed. "You need to be alert now, right fucking now, or those corpses are eating your ass, and I don't mean in the fun way."
Naomi blinked blearily. "Mason… Did she make it out?"
"Yeah, she did. And the only way you're seeing your kid again is if you focus for the next five minutes."
Thankfully Naomi seemed to hear her, though she could only offer so much strength. Gina kept her steady as she climbed onto the sill and pushed her toward the roof. Nick grabbed her arms and pulled, apologizing each time she cried out in pain. Gina gritted her teeth, straining to keep her own balance as well as Naomi's. The barricade creaked. The moans of the dead grew louder by inches.
Finally, Naomi made it up top with one last snarl of determination. Nick leaned over the side and offered his hand to Gina.
"Alright, come on."
But Gina hesitated. She glanced back at Will's half-eaten body.
She remembered Mason looking horribly out of place in her parents' mansion, showing them how they could recycle milk cartons and celery hearts to grow new plants. It was advice her parents never took—Mason was too "charmingly lower-middle class" to take seriously—but it stuck with Gina. And it prodded her now, because there was a reason Mason had made it this far, there was a reason she'd made it out of this house.
"Use everything you can use," she muttered and darted for the body.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the barricade as she dragged him to the window. It wobbled precariously, rotted arms and faces peeking out from around the edges.
"What the hell are you doing?" Nick demanded as she leaned again out the window.
"Take him," she replied and lifted Will as high as she could. Guts spilled onto her head and rolled down her shoulders.
"What the fuck, Gina—"
"Fucking take him!"
Something crashed behind her, probably the dresser. Nick growled and yanked Will's body up with him and Naomi, dripping blood on the dead below. It made them frantic.
Gina scrambled onto the windowsill just as the barricade toppled. The dead flooded the room. She leapt, hands scraping shingles before plunging into the gutter. It groaned under her weight, snapping at three different seams and dousing her with stagnant water. She spluttered, trying to feel out the wall with her feet.
Hands gripped her ankles, nearly yanking her down. She kicked furiously, smashing the top half of the window and raining glass on the corpses. The gutter sagged lower.
Then Nick was there, dragging her past the guttering and onto the roof.
She lay for a moment, catching her breath. Naomi was passed out a few feet away, covered in blood and sweat. Will's blood rolled down the incline and over the edge.
Finally she sat up, examining the horde. Apparently the commotion had drawn more of them over to this side of the house.
"Well," she said. "We're not getting down that way for sure now."
Nick crouched next to her. "Yeah, you're welcome."
"For what?"
"Saving your fucking life."
Oh, Christ, don't get your ass in a knot.
But she turned and blinked at him with wide eyes, unleashing the full force of her mask. He drew back a little in surprise.
"Nick," she said. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I—I'm not…I'm not thinking very clearly right now. All I can think is that Mason's out there. That's all I care about. And when I'm worried I can get kinda…bitchy."
She faked a vulnerable laugh, loathing herself for it. But Nick ate it up.
He put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find her. I'm worried about her, too, and the baby. But we can't let that separate us right now. We're all each other has, and we're all getting out of this."
Swallowing her disgust, she nodded. "Oh, I know. I'm sorry about that back there…you know, with Naomi. It wasn't even a serious thought, just trying to be prepared for anything."
"You don't have to prepare for that. Because you and I are going to make sure the three of us stay alive."
He went to tend to Naomi while Gina walked the perimeter of the roof. Around front was the clearest, only about five-deep. Unfortunately, the truck was swarmed, and Gina didn't think they'd be able to draw enough away to get to it. Well, they could find a new ride. The truck was just loaded down with baby crap anyway.
But maybe she could turn that congregation to their favor.
"Okay," she said. "I know none of us is gonna like this idea, but…we need to get out of here. And Will's already dead."
Nick stared at her. Naomi lay with her head in his lap, eyes closed, breathing labored.
"You want to drop his body," he said flatly.
"Yes."
He sighed through his nose. In the pause, Gina stifled an eye roll.
Why can't you ever just act like you actually have a pair?
Finally he shook his head. "You're right. I don't like it. But I don't think we're getting past them without a distraction, and we can't wait here to come up with a better plan. She needs water and anticoagulants and—and Renee. We need to find the others."
"Do you really think they're still around?"
"They wouldn't abandon us."
"No, not if they thought we were still alive. But they saw us disappear into that herd. I'm just saying, they could very well think we're dead."
But Nick ignored her, murmuring in Naomi's ear until her eyes fluttered open. Gina dragged Will's body to the front of the house while he got her on her feet.
She and Nick heaved the body over the side, just past the front door and the truck. Their trajectory was off, but only by a little; it was difficult to keep a good grip on his limbs, slippery with blood as they were.
Nick jumped first so he could catch Naomi, and Gina followed after. They were granted just enough time to make it to the ground before the herd gave chase.
With Naomi as slow as she was, it was a miracle they made it anywhere in one piece. Luckily there were enough fences and suburban trappings to eventually lose their pursuers.
It took an eternity to trace back to the street where they split from the others. Aside from a handful of cold corpses, nothing waited for them.
"Now what?" Gina asked, readjusting her grip around Naomi's waist.
Nick didn't answer, turning in circles like he might find clues in the tire marks striping the pavement or the trash drifting in the breeze.
"Hello?"
"They're around," he said. "We just have to look for them."
Gina huffed. "Where? We don't know this place. If Mason were here, sure, but otherwise we are lost."
"We'll figure it out." He raised his eyes to the approaching dead. "Come on. Let's just look around for a bit. Get off this street. They have to be somewhere nearby."
~m~
But they were nowhere. They searched long into the night, stopping only to scavenge a small pharmacy for Naomi and let her rest a bit. After a time, they made their way back to the house, sure Mason would've come back for them.
And it looked like she had. The truck was gone, at least, as well as the walkers. There was a rather impressive pile of them by an old car in the front yard, but when they searched the house they found nothing but what they'd left themselves.
"She thinks we're dead, too," Nick murmured.
Gina nodded, quelling her rising ire. Mason was loyal to the point of idiocy. She wouldn't have left unless she thought there was nothing else she could do.
"Find a car," she said. "That's our next play. And then we find them. We know where they were going. I'm tired of dicking around in this town."
"I don't know." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Naomi's not doing so good. I think we need to find a place to take care of her."
Gina breathed deeply, so that when she spoke it didn't come out as a scream. "And where do you suggest we do that?"
"Maybe that pharmacy. For now. It had supplies, at least, and some of the stuff Naomi's gonna need to recover."
So that was where they holed up for the night.
And stayed for the next three months.
~m~
It wasn't planned. Nick convinced Gina to stay for the first month and a half, to let Naomi recover physically and emotionally. Postpartum hit her hard, made worse by the fact that they had yet to find a single trace of Mason or the baby. She was convinced they were dead, that maybe all of their group was, and that somehow it was her fault. She ate very little, which inhibited the healing process and forced them to stay even longer.
But it was the crying that made Gina want to gouge someone's eyes out. Naomi cried almost constantly, in between long bouts of unconsciousness. It made little difference that she disappeared to the bathroom or the other side of the pharmacy in an attempt to keep it private. She returned with red, puffy eyes that made Gina nearly irate with disgust.
Only the booze kept Gina from acting on impulse, leaving or screaming or smashing a window or something. The nearby liquor store provided plenty to keep her sedated.
She was drunk the day Nick stumbled through the front door, returned early from a water run. His hair plastered to his face with sweat, one hand clasped to his bleeding forearm.
Gina sat up, spilling her bottle of vodka. "Whoa, what the fuck…"
"I'm bit."
He stood trembling against the door. Shadows moved beyond the newspapers they'd stuck to the windows, growling and thumping at the glass.
"They bit me, I'm bit," he said again. His eyes were blank and wide.
Before Gina could respond, Naomi strode into view. Her eyes were inflamed as usual, but there was something new in them, something cool and still.
"Get down and lay your arm flat on the floor," she said.
"I—I've been bit."
"I know, Nick. Get down now."
He obeyed, his movements so clumsy with shock he more or less crumpled to the floor. Gina righted her bottle and staggered to her feet, staring as Naomi splayed Nick's arm as flat as she could. In her other hand, she held an axe they'd scavenged back when they first found the place.
"You're gonna cut it off?"
"It's the only option," Naomi replied. "Get me some gauze and some water and as many towels as you can find."
Normally she would've resented being ordered around, but…she wanted to see it, the amputation. And she was fascinated by the change in Naomi, how she pulled it out of thin air when it seemed she'd lost all backbone otherwise.
When she returned with the supplies, Nick was crying. Naomi stroked a hand through his hair, murmured soothingly. Apparently she hadn't lost that mothering instinct after all.
"Alright, Gina, I need you to hold him steady for me."
Nick whimpered but didn't protest. Gina braced herself against him, biting back an eager smile.
"It's okay, Nick," Naomi said and brought the axe down hard.
He bucked and screamed, so violently Gina had to curl herself around him and cross her arms over his mouth. The first chop had gone through nearly all the way, but there was still a bit of tendon connecting the lower half to the upper. Naomi breathed in through her nose and brought the axe down again.
Another scream, which quickly trickled into faint groaning. Blood spilled from the stump, spreading across the tiles in a wide circle.
"Get those towels on him," Naomi barked. "Lift his arm up, we need it elevated."
Fifteen minutes passed while they stymied the bleeding. Nick lay prone beneath them, letting out occasional groans as his consciousness flickered.
"Do you think we got it in time?" Gina asked.
"I don't know." Naomi glared at the stump, like she could will it better through determination.
"Well, I know one thing and that is that I am sobered the fuck up now."
Naomi grunted a laugh. "Yeah. Me, too."
Finally, the bleeding slowed enough that they were able to apply the gauze. They moved Nick to a bench in the back, propping his arm up on a box.
"We just have to wait and see if he wakes up," Naomi said.
Gina quirked an eyebrow. "He'll wake up either way."
"Yeah…" Naomi touched the axe, which she'd slipped into her belt. "Look, I know how you think, Gina. But we're waiting for him to wake up first, understand? And then we'll deal with whatever comes next. He's not gone until he's gone."
Gina nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. And if he wakes up—alive, I mean—what then?"
"We treat the wound as best we can. It's good we found this place, there's plenty of—"
"No, no." She shook her head impatiently. "This mini vacation's been nice and all, but I'm kinda getting tired of sitting on my ass. Aren't you?"
Naomi tugged restlessly at her black hair. "Yes. I'm not leaving Nick behind, though."
She side-eyed Gina with a hard expression, and Gina smiled slowly. So she remembered. She knew Gina had been willing to sacrifice her that day in Kansas.
"I'm not saying we leave him behind. Necessarily. But we do have to be prepared for anything, you know. These are crazy times we live in now."
"Yeah," Naomi replied. "And some of us are better suited for it."
Gina grinned wider. "Lucky for you."
Nick awoke a few hours later, disoriented and clammy, but alive. Naomi gave him painkillers and changed his bandages before he fell back into fitful sleep.
"I think he'll pull through," she said. "But we need to let him recover fully before moving on."
"How long?"
"I don't know, it'll take as long as it takes. Meantime, why don't you help me distract these corpses? We still need water."
~m~
"We're almost out of gas."
Naomi glanced up in the backseat where she tended to Nick. He was curled in a ball with his head against the window, drenched in sweat but no longer shivering.
"How much longer till we run out?"
Gina shrugged. "I don't know. The gas light's on, maybe twenty minutes?"
"Nick?" Naomi's voice was firm, but gentler addressing him. "We're gonna have to walk soon. Do you think you can manage that?"
"Yeah, I'm alright." He offered a small smile. "Never felt better."
A month and a half after amputating his arm, and they were finally on the road to Virginia. The trip hadn't been easy, however, especially for Nick. Ironically it wasn't the missing limb giving him the most issues, but the painkillers, or rather the lack of them.
Gina really hadn't known him very long or very well, but nothing was more transparent about him than his addictive personality, and not just because of the track marks. There hadn't been a way to avoid giving him the pills; he'd needed them. And there hadn't been a sufficient way to keep him from sneaking them long after the need subsided, not when they wanted to keep what supplies they could.
Withdrawal set in almost immediately after they left Kansas, which meant a lot of stops to replenish his water as the intermittent vomiting left him dehydrated. Naomi tended to him, which prompted Gina to ask why she hadn't just gone into nursing like Renee.
Naomi had snorted. "God, you sound like my fucking parents… I didn't want that crap. I just watched a lot of doctor shows growing up. I wanted to own a record store, sell weed from a back room with Mason. We had it all planned out."
From the sadness in her eyes, she was serious about that.
The car died just as they entered a sprawling grassland, dotted with trees at wide intervals. Gina pulled to the side of the highway. It didn't look like there were any immediate places to siphon gas or score a new ride.
"Where are we?" Nick asked.
Gina stretched luxuriously. "Arkansas, I think."
They gathered all they could carry on their backs and set off. Hours passed before any of them spoke. Gina found her mind wandering to Mason more often than not, wondering if she was still alive, if she'd managed to keep the brat alive, too.
She rolled her eyes. Always trying to be the fucking hero.
"Hey," she said, falling back to walk next to Nick. "So you and Mason dated before the outbreak, right?"
Warily, he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… For, like, two weeks."
She laughed, but there was an edge to the sound. "Relax. Her and I agreed that it was fine to see other people while we were taking our break." That wasn't the exact conversation, but he didn't need to know that.
"Yeah, well…I wouldn't really call it dating, anyway, it was more like two weeks of hooking up and getting high afterwards before we realized we were better off as friends."
"So she got high with you."
"Yeah, but not like that. Just weed, mostly. She wasn't a big fan of the, uh, manufactured high like I was. She helped me get clean, actually. Or, well, start to, anyway."
"Well, that clearly went swimmingly."
Nick frowned. "You know, the others never told me what you did."
"What do you mean?"
"What you did to Mason."
Gina cocked her head. "I didn't do anything to Mason." That she didn't deserve, she added silently.
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't. Look, we…" And here she paused to thicken her voice. "We fought. A lot. And I'll admit I wasn't the best girlfriend at the time. I—I know I was angry, and I made Mason feel bad about herself because I didn't know what to do with that anger."
She sniffed delicately, though there were no tears. "But I love Mason. That's why I went to therapy, got my shit figured out. I wanted to be better for her. No one will ever call me the friendliest person on the planet, but that's okay, so long as I never make her feel like shit again."
Nick examined her a moment, and in the end could find no trace of deceit.
"It takes a lot, to try to be better," he said. "So long as you do right by her, I wish you luck getting there."
She smiled. "Thank you."
The mask fell as she strode to take the lead, a scowl taking its place. This did bring up some concerns Gina hadn't properly thought of since the group separated.
The Misfits. They knew the whole story, or at least enough. They were the ones who convinced Mason to distance herself from Gina. They'd seen the scars on Mason's body.
Maybe they knew that only some of them were self-inflicted.
No, they couldn't know that. They were incredibly protective of each other, of Mason. If they knew the whole truth, they wouldn't have let her escape L.A. with them. It wasn't farfetched, however, to figure they probably suspected Gina to be the reason behind those scars, that she had made Mason feel so bad about herself it had driven her to self-harm. Which…was partially true.
So Mason…Mason must have had a reason. A reason to keep the worst of the truth from them.
She's still in love with you.
Fierce satisfaction brimmed in her chest. Of course she was. But that didn't mean her friends wouldn't try to keep them apart.
You have to separate her. Isolate her.
And she would. Soon as she found her.
~m~
The dead found them just after dusk. Their plan to settle in a copse of trees backfired as the corpses broke free of the shadows.
Naomi and Gina fought them off enough to get a head start running, but it was full dark, no moon, no flashlights. They could barely see where they were going; it was a wonder they didn't accidentally kill each other in the confusion.
"Get back to open ground," Naomi shouted. "We can outrun them!"
Maybe she and Gina could, but Nick had been flagging for the last few hours. They hadn't found any water and he was exhausted and dehydrated.
Leave him.
It would be easier. Give her and Naomi a chance to get away.
She was about to reach for her, grab her arm and drag her away, maybe even kick Nick's legs out from under him, when a light blinded her. She jumped back so suddenly her feet skidded on the furrowed ground and she fell to her knees.
"Stand still!" a voice shouted, and in the next blink they were surrounded by people, flashlights, weapons spraying blood.
Naomi and Nick took up positions on either side of Gina, which irritated her.
I don't need your fucking protection.
"Stand back," Naomi said, her voice deep with command. She held her axe up; its glint cut through the gloom.
"Relax," one of the newcomers said. "We don't want to hurt you. That's not what this is about."
"What is it about?" Nick asked. His voice was steady, but his frame shook.
No one answered. Instead a woman bounced toward them, her face cheerful despite what looked to be a recently-broken nose.
"Evenin', friends!"
Her perky tone made Gina want to vomit.
"Are y'all bit?"
"No," Naomi said.
"Good, that's good. Y'know, it's not the wisest to be out after sundown."
"Yeah, we didn't have much choice," Gina spat.
"Are y'all homeless?"
"So to speak."
It was hard to tell in the inconsistent lighting, but it looked like her face brightened.
"Maybe you should come back with us then. We got a camp, and lots of people. You can rest up knowin' you're somewhere safe."
Gina could feel Nick and Naomi deliberating, but she didn't tear her glare from the woman. At least eight others surrounded them, and though she couldn't tell exactly how well, she knew they were armed.
"C'mon," the woman said. "I give you my word that we don't bite."
She should've been referencing the dead. But the way she spoke made it sound like she meant something else.
"We don't even know you," Naomi said.
"Well, you know that we risked our tails to help you out. And we're offering a chance at a good night's sleep. Food, water, friendship. Y'all don't want to be alone, do you? It's rough out there when someone's not looking out for you."
The silence persisted. It was Nick who finally broke it.
"You're right," he said, then turned earnestly to Naomi and Gina. "We should go with them, for tonight at least. We can't just stay out in the open."
Naomi hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."
Gina gritted her teeth but stayed quiet. She could kill these people if she had to. Rip their throats out if they tried anything.
So she pushed herself to her feet, every nerve wired to react in short notice as the strangers herded them away from the trees.
"Who are you people, anyway?" Naomi asked.
"Oh, our group doesn't really have a name. Maybe one day! But you can call me Coyote."
"Coyote?"
"Yep. I like it a lot better than my given name. I think it defines who I am more exactly."
Gina raised an eyebrow.
They didn't travel far. About a mile south, they reached the edge of a cluster of tents backed up to a large RV. Only the beam of the flashlights revealed they were even there, tucked behind an incline. There were no lights on in any of them. Gina frowned.
"Is anyone even here?"
"Oh, yes. But we have a strict lights-off policy after dark. Don't wanna draw attention from the risen."
"The risen?" Nick repeated.
"The risen dead."
They stopped in the center of the gathering, home to a few rundown fire pits and picnic benches. The nameless strangers halted in a circle around their guests while Coyote disappeared briefly.
The man she returned with was tall, an imposing pillar in white. His hair was cropped close, and looked to be blonde or possibly gray. He smiled welcomingly at the three of them, but the warmth never quite reached his eyes.
"Evening," he said. "I'm told you're looking for a safe place for the night."
"We are," Nick replied.
"Well this is a safe place. So long as you are here, you will have no reason for fear. We take care of our family."
"Family?" Naomi pursed her lips dubiously.
The man spread his arms. "We're all one family, aren't we? Even more so now that the dead walk the earth. Crow, Foster, why don't you fetch our guests some tea, something to help them recover from their scare tonight?"
Two shadows broke off from the group. There was something mechanical in their wordless departure.
"So why don't you tell me where you fine people are from?"
"Why don't you tell us your name?" Gina returned sharply.
"Oh, I'm very sorry. I guess in the excitement of making new acquaintances, we forget our manners. Dr. Gregory Caan."
He extended his hand but Gina just stared at it. Nick stepped forward to shake it instead.
"I'm Nick. That's Gina, and Naomi. You're a doctor?"
"I was, yes. But our recent state of affairs has provided me with a higher calling, of sorts."
Nick and Naomi exchanged a glance. Gina locked eyes with the doctor and held them without blinking.
Crow and Foster returned then with three Styrofoam cups of tea, and handed them to their guests. Gina sniffed hers—chamomile and licorice. She took an experimental sip. It tasted just as she expected. It tasted like the days when Mason lived in her basement.
"So am I right in assuming you folks are not from around here?" Caan said.
"We're not," Nick said. "How could you tell?"
"Accent, son. Always nice to meet folks from all walks of life. Coyote, my dear one, fetch tents for our guests."
Coyote's face was all devotion as she smiled at him. "Of course, my…sir."
Gina frowned. What the fuck is this?
Caan's people had enough tents to spare that Nick, Naomi and Gina each got their own. They were small, but she had to admit it was nice to get some separation. She wasn't naturally a people person, and if she couldn't replenish her solitude it made her…cranky.
She finished her tea. She couldn't seem to stop herself. The taste reminded her so vividly of Mason it made her crave more, even though she had never been a tea drinker. It was disconcerting to admit, but she actually…missed Mason. Not just in all the ways that served her, the way Gina wanted her to be, but…the way she was. Tea, even in the dead heat of summer. Stopping to pet every animal that crossed her path. Cracking jokes so lame that no one else laughed. The way she could listen to music for hours, content with that and nothing else.
She was weak, that was certain, but there was something about her that kept Gina coming back time and again.
I'll find you, she thought as she laid back. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Suddenly it seemed impossible to stay awake a second longer.
She thought of Mason's smile and smiled herself just as sleep took over.
I'll make you mine again.
~m~
Something jarred her awake. A pain, a shock. A slice, somewhere lower down on her body; it was a struggle to pinpoint exactly where through the drowsy haze.
A bee, probably, she thought. But…wait. It was still dark out, wasn't it? Did bees come out at night?
Wake up.
But she couldn't, not fully. Even as the pain continued, even as it swelled steadily up… Her leg, it was in her leg. She groaned and fidgeted, trying to find which way was up, trying to swim back to consciousness. She felt drunk, she felt sedated, she…
Sedated.
They drugged you. They drugged you, you stupid bitch, and you let them.
But her rage was distant, she couldn't grab hold of it properly. There was no way to fight as she was dragged back under.
She came gasping up for air, covered in blood. The world around her was dark but she could see every shape—the trees glistening with raindrops, the dead moving soundlessly through the woods, and the thick, red pool she raised her head above.
Someone stood before her, black-cloaked and veiled in smoke. They faced away, but instinctively Gina knew it to be Mason.
She reached out. "Mace—"
"You won't separate us. Not this time."
"What? You—you're the one who called it quits on me, it wasn't my fucking—"
"No," Mason said, and turned. Her face was luminous with smears of glow-in-the-dark paint, her eyes like kaleidoscopes, like church glass. She was a vengeful deity.
"I won't allow you to separate us. We won't allow it."
We? Who the fuck is we?
The sting in her leg flared before she could utter another word, and she sank again beneath the red.
Nothing made sense down there. She was alone, and she wasn't alone. She could sense the dead above her, and they were whispering, too low and fast to figure out. Wolves brought her bones, weapons, faces. At one point she lay curled on her side, eating the stomach of a corpse while it ate hers.
Somewhere in the middle of it, the whispering grew more distinct. Flashes lit up the red around her, like the sun through closed eyelids.
"They're strong, I can tell. I want to see how strong."
"What did you give her?"
"Rattlesnake. Full dose. Same as the others."
"You must have faith in them, my Keeper."
"Yes, I do. Fetch some water. She'll need it when she wakes up."
~m~
And wake she finally did, to a body covered in sweat and a taste in her mouth that reminded her of that puddle, that pool she sank below…
Leaning to the side, she retched violently, body twitching.
"Oh, no. This is a brand new tent!"
Through teary eyes, Gina looked up and realized she wasn't alone. An older woman sat a few feet away, one hand resting on a bucket.
"You should've warned me, I could've held this out for you!" the woman continued, brows pinched in disapproval.
Gina stared for a moment, ignoring the way the world spun at a sickly angle.
"Sorry," she finally said. "I'll make sure to wait next time until you're in position."
The woman clicked her tongue. "Now, there's no need for attitude. I'm here to help you through this."
Immediately, everything surged back. The night before, the tea, waking up to a pain in her leg…
She sat up quickly—admittedly, a massive mistake. The world tilted at a new angle, spinning faster, and her stomach with it. The blood in her head felt too heavy for her body.
"What's going on?" she demanded, though there wasn't as much force behind it as she would've preferred. "What's happening?"
"You were bit by a snake. We're tending to you."
As the woman spoke, Gina glanced down at her left ankle, the two red pinpricks surrounded by engorged flesh. The breath caught in her throat.
"How…how the fuck did a snake get in here?"
The woman shrugged. "I don't know. You must've left your tent open."
"I didn't."
"If you're going to live outdoors, you need to be aware of those kinds of things."
"I. Didn't."
"Here." The woman held out a flask, unimpressed by the hostility in Gina's voice. "It's water. You need to keep hydrated. And keep that leg elevated. The poison will work itself out eventually. If you're strong enough."
But Gina refused the flask. "You drugged me. Last night, you fucking drugged me."
"Young lady, I didn't even see you last night—"
"Your fucking weird-ass doctor gave me tea and it was drugged."
"If you thought it was drugged, why did you drink it?"
Rage rippled down her spine, but her lips stretched in a smile. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"
The woman stared flatly. "Morning Glory."
"…Right, okay, well, I'm just gonna call you Glory for short, okay? Now, Glory. I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot."
Ha? Foot. Get it? a voice in her head chortled. It sounded suspiciously like Mason. She grimaced.
"See, I think you've got this impression like I'm gonna tolerate your bullshit."
"Listen, girl—"
"No, you're gonna listen to me, you fucking windbag." The smile dissolved into a snarl. The ground swayed under her. "Tell me what to do one more time, and you're gonna wind up with a brand-new hole in that Silly Putty face. I guess maybe it won't be permanent if your fuckhead Nazi doctor is a plastic surgeon, but—"
Glory slapped her. "Don't speak of him like that."
A fierce ringing flooded her ears. She stretched her jaw once, twice, hoping it would cease.
"God, fuck, can't take the truth, lady?" Her words came out slurred. A wave of shivers racked her body. "Take me to that Third Reich-looking bastard, I'll say it to his face—"
She choked as Glory splashed the water in her face.
"Foul little shit," she hissed. "I'll see to it that you're sent to the Reeling Fields. I'll see to it you're belly-down when the risen take you."
"What—what the fuck are you even talking about, you crazy bitch?"
But when Gina wiped her face dry, Glory was gone, the flask abandoned on the floor of the tent. She sagged in her absence, too exhausted to keep the anger up. Sweat rolled down her limbs. Her stomach churned uneasily, but she didn't think there was anything left in it to throw up.
She rubbed a hand over her swollen ankle. Her eyes flicked from the bite mark to the front of the tent, unzipped and flapping in the breeze.
I didn't leave it open.
She remembered the voices in her dream. The dead talking.
What did you give her?
Rattlesnake.
Her mouth popped open. "You've gotta be absolutely shitting me…"
She exited the tent, telling herself she only crawled because it was too small to stand up in. Once she was outside, it took several focused efforts just to get to her feet. It was too bright out, the same invading brightness the light adopted when she was hungover. She staggered forward, squinting through the glare to find the RV.
Glory stood outside its door, speaking animatedly with Caan. Coyote hovered nearby, bouncing anxiously on her toes.
"Hey!" Gina barked hoarsely, and all three faced her. "Come here, so I can break my foot off in your ass."
"Gina," Caan said pleasantly. "We should talk."
"I don't want to talk. I want to bleed you like a fucking—"
Two large men appeared on either side of her and gripped her arms. Before she had a chance to struggle, one of them pricked her with a syringe.
"Hey—hey, what the fuck is that?"
Drowsiness settled over her like a thick blanket. Her body drooped between the two men.
"Come inside," Caan said. "We'll have that talk."
They dragged her into the RV and sat her down in the bedroom at the end. The curtains were drawn and the lights off except for a single reading lamp. The men left, closing the door behind them.
Caan sat next to her, smiling. Gina slumped against the wall, too distant from her rage. It did make the pain easier to handle, however.
"Haloperidol," he finally said. "That's what they gave you. Enough for conscious sedation. So you can talk to me like a human being, or rather listen like a human being."
His tone was assured, superior. She wanted to kick his teeth in, but her legs stayed frozen.
"I was a surgeon before. My specialty was maxillofacial. Not a lot of on-call, but plenty of trauma cases. It paid exceptionally well, which was all I was concerned about. I lived alone in a six-bedroom mansion and I was happy in my misery."
You sound like my dad, she wanted to say, but couldn't find the energy.
"And then after the dead found their new breath, I found mine, too. Not immediately, though. That first week…" He shook his head indulgently. "I was lost. Literally. My practice was in Galveston, and when the risen overtook the living, the city became a dangerous place. I didn't know how I made it back to the mainland at the time. Why me when so many others were dying."
Why me, when so many others don't have to listen to this bullshit?
"I found myself lost in the desert, starving and dehydrated and convinced I would die alone. And when all this brought me to my knees, when I could barely crawl, I crossed paths with a rattlesnake."
And it didn't have the decency to kill you.
"I drank its blood, Gina. I drank its blood to survive. And it gave me just enough strength to reach a stream, to find water, to keep going. A bringer of death, providing me life. It was the great divinity of nature, approving me at the teeth of one of its cold-blooded judges."
He was silent for a moment, and in the silence his expression changed. Morphed from the cordial smile she imagined he'd used on patients to one a bit truer. There was disdain in it, there was cruelty.
"At least, that's what I tell these fine, simple people," he said. "Oh, it's true that I drank its blood. But just between you and me, I never felt any divinity in that moment or any moment after. I put my faith in science, and the human condition. I never needed an imagined force to know that I deserved to live more than most, but that doesn't mean I can't use that fortune to save others. Same as before."
Yep. Definitely like her dad.
"Are you gonna kill me?" Gina slurred. "That why you're telling me this?"
Caan's pale eyes glinted. "You know, from the minute I saw you, I knew you had a fighting spirit. And we need people like that around, to protect the camp, the mothers in particular. Recently we had a run-in with a potential recruit who did not want to conform to our way of life. That's where Coyote received her broken nose, that's why we have to initiate folks a little differently."
"The…snakes."
"We've always used snakes. But these days, I prefer to meet initiates personally before anyone gets bitten, and oversee the process in a controlled environment. The rules are the same, though. Someone is bit, they receive minimal help through it, and if they're strong enough to survive then that is…evidence of a higher approval. That nature has marked them as a fitter breed, one worthy of existence. They are free to join us after that."
"What if…they don't?"
"You had an opportunity to avoid us. Be it fate, or chance, or whatever you prescribe to, you could have taken a different path." Caan leaned toward her, hands folded in his lap. "But now that you're here, we control your chances. I control your fate. I can kill your friends quite easily, make it look like they simply weren't strong enough to bear the venom. I can kill you. Right now, if I want to.
"I don't want to, as much as Morning Glory might advocate for it; you certainly made an impression on her." He chuckled pleasantly. "Besides, this is a safe place. Safe from the risen, safe from marauders and plunderers. I can understand how our methods might rub someone the wrong way, especially one as independent as yourself. But you will be fed here. You will be sheltered. You can have a family, or you can be left alone. Completely up to you, so long as you obey the rules."
He quieted then, and Gina realized he was waiting for her to speak. And what were her options, at this point? Make a run for it and end up rotting in a ditch somewhere?
She could stay. Long enough to recover, for Nick and Naomi to recover, if they were going to. Long enough to plan her escape.
"I'll stay," she grunted.
"Wonderful. I am going to have to ask you keep this conversation to yourself. Not that I'm terribly worried one of my devotees would believe you." Amused at the thought. "It's just one of those rules. Return to your tent now and rest up. We'll likely be talking later, but please, come to me whenever you feel the need to see me sooner."
With that, he stood up and called for the two men from before. They picked Gina up and carried her back to her tent, which Coyote had cleaned while Caan talked her ear off. She examined their blank expressions as they set her down, and wondered what went on behind their eyes.
Once she was alone, her thoughts cycled back to Caan and all that he'd said. Why had he revealed all that shit to her in the first place? Pretty bold move. Unless he really was certain no one here would believe her if she uttered a word of it.
She frowned. What had he done to these people? What was he planning to do to her, to Nick or Naomi? Did he really think she would obey his bullshit gospel?
Were these people just like Mason had been, wounded and looking for anyone to tell them anything, to please someone? If so…well, Gina knew how to play that game.
Caan's cavalier smile, her father's smile, followed her back down into sleep, and somehow, she found rest between dark fits of dreaming. But before that, her last coherent thought sank a hook deep in her brain, one that she had no intention of shaking loose.
I'm going to eat his throat.
A/N: I'm sorry if some of you aren't big on dream sequences; I try to keep them brief, but I promise there IS actual significance to them. Next chapter we will see just how fucked up this cult is, and what happens to Gina, Naomi and Nick. There's still some crazy stuff to come, and then we'll get back to Team Family and see where they're at. Thank you so much for reading, and until next time, much love xoxo.