The Risen: Courage Read Online Free Page A

anxiety.
    “Why?” Lawless’ simple one-word question brings everyone to stare at us. “You heard what Dolph said. They don’t want our help. Why do we keep offering it?”
    “Because we are the good guys.” Rhett tosses Lawless a spare clip, letting him know there is no room for argument.
    Chapel half laughs looking to Rhett and asks him, “Since when?” He remembers the many past deeds they have done as a club.
    “Since the real bad guys got a whole hell of a lot scarier than we are.” Rhett chambers his gun, and the sound seems to echo against the plain, gray slate walls. He locks eyes with every man around him, sparing a few seconds of and because I said so with his face. It ends any further debates on the matter.
    The resounding, agreeing chorus is the many echoes of chambered guns in response to his. Just like their Harleys, when one revs, they all rev. It has to be a boy thing. Their “boy thing” makes one thing plainly obvious to me. I don’t have a gun. I am honestly about to bring a knife to a gunfight. I would have pointed that fact out, but the Risen left me no time.
    The echoes from their guns proved to be a door knocker to the Risen. They inch slowly from the cafeteria, waiting for another clue to tell them where to turn. They have not seen us yet, but it will only be moments until their eyes begin to seek out what their ears no longer hear.
    Seven of them stand now in the space between the cafeteria’s open doors and the hall, but with the many sounds of shuffling, I know there are more. Their clothing is layers thick with stains from wear and death. Not only their death, but also the many they have brought to death. The stains swirl from rust colors to dark blacks as blood and earth mingle like a name branded upon them. Their bodies hold signs of abuse with broken fingers and torn flesh. Their flesh is spread, tainted, or bloated with decay. It holds all the shades rot can hold. If Death has ambassadors, the Risen would fill the position.
    “You ready?” Lawless whispers his question to me as I roll my eyes with frustration.
    Knife to a gunfight and I’m on the front row. Tickets, please! I would love the chance to point out that Rhett wanted us on the back row, not the front!
    Lawless takes the bullet from his chamber and tosses it high, sending it sailing across the herd, to hit against the wall across from us. At the sound of the sharp metallic ping, their heads turn in unison with an almost snap of attention, placing us now behind them. The first few branch off to examine the source of the noise as we hug the wall beside us, hoping to keep from their angle of sight. It is not enough. The rest still stay frozen in their statue form. I can mentally picture their eyes swaying, searching the shadows for their prey. The bullet does not bleed or have the flesh they desire. It will not hold their attention long.
    “We have to get these doors closed. We can then play them off each side of the room with one group at the set of doors here and the set outside.” Lawless whispers to me as if we are wearing a matching set of knights-in-shining-armor outfits.
    “You want to play Ping-Pong with the Risen?” My frustration is growing with my question and my knife is looking less and less useful with his answer.
    “You have a better idea?” He meant to be serious with his question, but his sense of adventure just fills his face with mirth.
    “No,” I say, and I don’t. This only pisses me off more.
    “When I say run, run. Don’t detour. Just hug the wall all the way down and get the doors closed.” Lawless speaks to me as if his plan is brilliant, but I am seeing a lot of holes. I’m seeing holes that will eat me alive if given the chance.
    “You want me to run right into the middle of them?”
    My voice must vibrate with doubts as he smiles at me because he says, “Isn’t that your normal plan?” His smile is so wide that it makes an easy target and my knuckles itch to land a perfect