Chapter 22 Lazarus
twenty-two
Lazarus
The rope digs into my waist as I am tied to the fence that borders the outside of the compound.
“Repent sinner,” Timothy murmurs as he grips my waist in his hands, tying the knot tight around me.
“Fuck you, you self righteous fuck,” I spit back.
He yanks the rope, knocking me off balance and laughing as I land on the grass in a heap. I pull myself to my feet and scowl at him.
“You will die for this sin, Lazarus.”
“Just not lest ye be judged, Timmy.”
“Thou shalt not murder.”
I laugh right in his face as he reaches for the rope that binds my hands together behind me.
I’m pretty sure that murder is justified when the one being killed isn’t worthy of breath, but I’ll take that up with God when I get to see him face to face.
My words are wasted on these vile humans of Bright Haven, my truth thrown to the side in favor of the lies that are easier to swallow.
“He squealed like a pig when I stuck him,” I offer instead.
That earns me a backhand from Timothy and my head snaps to the side, blood pooling in my mouth as my jaw aches.
He may not be a big man, but he can definitely hit like one.
I take a deep breath, then laugh as my blood dribbles down to my chest, mixing with the drying blood of the man I killed mere moments ago.
“I am proud to have killed him. Tell Michael that. Tell him I said I am proud that Ezekiel went out like a bitch.”
Another slap lands on my face and I grin, though my cheeks ache, head rattling with pain.
I should really shut my mouth, but why bother when these assholes mean to for me to die?
If these are my last moments alive, I might as well go down swinging.
Metaphorically anyway, I can’t really hit anything with my hands tied behind my back.
“You don’t fight fair, TimmyTim,” I comment as he grabs the rope binding my hands. “Would God approve of you beating a defenceless man?”
“You are hardly a man.”
“Man enough for Ezekiel’s cock,” I laugh, with a shrug. “Man enough to cut it off when he brought it near me for the last time.”
“Shut your mouth,” Arn mumbles, finally stepping forward from the shadows to help Timothy help him tie me up.
“I think I’ll keep talking, thank you. Nobody fucking listened to me before, but I will crow until my last breath because this is unjust.”
“You murdered a man. You mutilated him.”
“I defiled him,” I add, with a grin. “Don’t forget the defiling. I did a good job of that bit, and he earned it all with his own hands. I am to say no to him, but what am I supposed to do when no doesn’t work?”
Arn pauses for a moment like he’s actually hearing what I am saying of the sins that were done unto me, but then he goes back to doing whatever he’s doing behind my back. Tying the ropes around my hands and waist together, probably. It’s what I’d do if I were him.
Timothy works at my other side for a moment, then steps out from behind me and stares into my eyes. “Ezekiel is a man of God.”
“Was,” I remind him, with a grin. “He was a man of God. Now he is bits of flesh and bone.”
He backhands me again, my head snapping to the side as his blow lands harder this time. Clearly, the truth is hard for him to hear . He has always sought Ezekiel, and for a few moments I believed he had drawn attention with his fluffy hair and big blue eyes, but the Lamb always came back to me.
And now he comes no more. I cackle at my joke, wishing I’d said it out loud because it is a good one.
“May God grant you mercy, Lazarus, for this world bears you none.”
“Fuck your God and his mercy,” I spit out, jaw aching and eye swelling up. “You'd better tie me tight, or I’m coming for you all.”
Arn responds by yanking me backwards, causing me to crash to the ground again. “You aren’t going anywhere but Hell.”
I laugh as I wobble my way back to my feet, because Hell doesn’t scare me.
I have already experienced far worse than Satan could ever dish out in my 15 years of life.
I have been torn apart and not stitched back together despite the prayers I have sent to God, begging for mercy that has never come and now likely won’t.
Grass and dirt cling to the sticky, dried blood on my legs as I gain my balance.
Some of it is mine. Some of it is not. Nobody bothered to ask which blood was which when they found me with my blade stuck in the gut of their precious Blessed Lamb.
Instead, they carried me out to the field and threw me in front of Father, naked and blood-soaked.
He very quickly determined that for my crime of murder, I was to be tied up on the outer fence and left for the damned ones to feast on.
I had expected nothing less. Beyond being the Blessed Lamb who sat at his right hand at the head of Bright Haven, Ezekiel was also his younger brother.
“Repent, sinner,” Timothy repeats, stepping away from me at last. He takes one last look at me, hatred in his eyes, before turning and leaving me behind, tied to the fence of Bright Haven. Arn lingers, his expression dour.
“Got something you’d like to say?” I ask, scowling.
“Did he deserve his death?” Arn murmurs, staring into my eyes hard.
I have never liked Arn, but I have never disliked him either.
He is someone who is simply just there, taking up space.
Though I think of him like this, I know Father sees him differently.
If I had to guess, I would say that he is Father’s favorite Elder.
“He did.” Of that, I am certain.
Arn watches me for a moment, then turns away and leaves me behind, as Timothy did.
Once he is gone from my sight, I turn my attention to the ropes that hold me.
I pull and yank at them, searching for any error they have made in any of the knots that bind me to the fence.
Sadly, I gain no freedom from my efforts and slump against the fence while I wait for the damned creatures that live beyond the forest to find me.
My head aches more as I settle into the thought that I am truly going to die out here.
I don’t know why I was thinking I’d somehow get away from this, but that thought had lingered in the back of my mind the entire time Timothy and Arn were binding me to the fence.
Now it appears that I will die here.
“Fuck you, Bright Haven! May the devil witness what you have done to me this evening, and may he hold no mercy for any of you,” I scream to the forest, my head rattling and aching as I shout into the darkened night.
Tears streak down my face as I kick at the fence in my anger, knowing that I am causing a commotion that will draw the rotted creatures towards me faster and hoping that I do.
If I’m going to be eaten alive by them, might as well make it quick.
“Careful,” a voice murmurs from behind me.
It is muffled and low, as if being disguised, but I can tell it is male.
I startle, pulling back from the fence and whirling around to see if there is anyone there.
No response comes, and I think for a moment I might be losing my mind, but a small blade slips out from between two fence boards, sawing at the rope that holds me captive.
“Who are you?” I ask as the frayed edges give way.
No answer comes, but the knife is pushed through the gap in the fence, falling onto the grass by my feet.
I dive for it, landing on my ass as I scramble to pluck it off the ground with my bound hands.
It isn’t an easy task, but I manage to get hold of it.
As I start moving the blade in my hands to haphazardly saw at the ropes around my wrists, the voice speaks again.
“Find Ekksha. Grow strong and learn from the men who live there. I will send for you when the time is right. You will have your revenge, Lazarus, this I promise you.”
“It has been too long,” Arn comments as I let him go. “Ten years, Laz.”
I nod, offering my oldest and only friend a smile. It is good to see him, but I had forgotten how big he is. Though I am quite tall myself, Arn towers over me, and his shoulders are far broader.
“What is happening?” Daylan whispers from behind me, the shock obvious in his tone. He slips his hand into mine, and I hold him tight as I take a step back.
“Arn is the reason I survived that night,” I offer. “He brought me a knife and cut me free, then sent me to Ekksha for my safety.”
“I did a shit ton more than that. I also stole a sheep carcass, skinned it and tore it apart to leave by the fence so everyone would see the bloodied mess and believe you’d been torn to pieces. Don’t forget that whole gross part.” Arn shudders, but his grin doesn’t leave his face.
“Your little birdie who tells you of things at Bright Haven,” Daylan comments, eyes wide as he looks between the two of us.
“Little birdie?” Arn laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve been called many things, but never that.” He turns to me and gestures towards Daylan. “You didn’t kill him, I see.”
I look down at Daylan, who is still gripping tight to my hand. “He is hard to kill.”
“Yeah, I told you he would be. Can we go inside and talk where it’s safe? The forest gives me the creeps. I ran into a bunch of damned ones out there, and I narrowly escaped with my life. I’d rather not repeat the experience.”
I nod as Daylan lets go of my hand and heads to the cabin door. He opens it and turns, giving both of us a questioning look over his shoulder. He is cautious still, I can tell in the way he looks at Arn, but he doesn’t have to worry. We are safe in letting him into the cabin.
“Come,” I say, gesturing for Arn to follow.
He lets out a low whistle as he walks into the building, scanning the inside with a small grin. “Definitely a fixer-upper.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “It’s in way worse condition than you said it was. This is on you.”
Arn laughs and Daylan stares at him, eyes still wide with confusion. I grab the wooden chair, offering it to Arn as it is the only thing to sit on in here that isn’t the mattress on the floor. He sits down as Daylan moves to perch on the edge of the mattress, and I follow my Lamb’s lead.
“I feel like I should read you a bedtime story from this chair,” Arn laughs, looking down at us. I chuckle softly and don’t miss the tiny laugh that escapes Daylan as well.
“Maybe you could just tell us why you’re here.” Arn and I have communicated through notes left tucked beneath a rock outside of Bright Haven and his coming to my cabin was never part of the plan.
“Bright Haven is in danger,” Arn murmurs, looking between me and Daylan. “Father is falling into madness, and the community suffers for it.”
Daylan inhales a sharp breath beside me, and I reach over, placing my arm around him.
Arn catches my eye and raises an eyebrow as Daylan sinks into my side, shuffling closer on the mattress.
I shake my head. I will explain later what this Lamb has come to mean to me and the madness of my own that his presence soothes away.
“What is happening in Bright Haven?” I ask, refocusing on the reason he has come.