Frowning at the lean-to, which was starting to sag a little more than it did when we first built it, I wished I had the new shelter completed, but I’d have to make do with what was here. I dropped down to my knees on the palm frond floor and lay Raine on her back. She kept her grip on my neck, so I lay down beside her and wrapped her up in the blanket-towels and my arms as she continued to cry quietly.
I was still in a bit of a blood-lust haze, and the combination of that familiarity and the completely unfamiliar action of trying to comfort this woman was so completely incongruous, I really didn’t know what to think or feel or say. I had to physically force my hands not to shake because the urge to kill was still running through my veins even though I knew there was no one left. This feeling was not unexpected – I always had it after a tournament, which was at least part of the reason I would spend most of the night afterwards fucking. It helped with the pent-up energy, and even some of the need for violence. This was so different, however, because even though I wanted to fuck her again, I didn’t want to feel violent towards Raine. The ambivalence was mind-blowing.
I swallowed hard and tightened my hold on her. The shaking of her limbs had slowly subsided, and she was now sniffing against my shoulder. I felt her take in a deep breath and try to let it out slowly, but it caught in her throat a couple of times, making it ragged and uneven.
I wanted to do…to do…something. At least say something, I just didn’t know what to do or say. While I contemplated, Raine sighed heavily and dropped off to sleep in my arms, letting the exhaustion overtake her. My thumb wiped the remaining tears from her face, and my lips pressed into the hair at the top of her head. I was exhausted as well and tempted to just join her in slumber, but I knew I had work to do first. Waking up to the remnants of this nightmare is not what I wanted her to do in the morning.
I snaked out from under her, hoping there would still be enough light for me to get rid of the bodies on the beach. As soon as I tried to stand, my leg gave out from under me and I had to catch myself awkwardly on my hand to keep from falling on top of her. I hissed softly and then twisted to look at the back of my thigh.
Looking at it wasn’t enough of a reminder at first, but then I thought back to right after I smashed Buzz-cut’s knee. I remembered the pressure at the back of my leg and knew I had been cut. It wasn’t horrible, but it didn’t look good, either. After shuffling a couple of feet out of the lean-to, I turned my leg to the side so I could get a better look. My fingers went to either side of the cut, pulling at it slightly to see how deep it really was. More blood began dribbling out of the wound. It needed a handful of stitches, undoubtedly. I wondered if I could do that to the back of my leg and decided I would never get the angle right. I’d have to have Raine do it.
When I looked back to her, she was on her side and completely out. There was no way I was going to wake her up at this point. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the pain and my body’s desire to let my leg buckle. I forced my leg to take my weight and hobbled off to the beach, deciding to ignore the blood running down the back of my calf until a more opportune time presented itself. It wasn’t bleeding enough to cause any serious concern, so I didn’t worry myself with it at all.
I found our clothes still lying in the sand. At least the tide hadn’t come in and washed them away. Now that would have sucked. They were wet and sandy, so I shook them out a little before tossing them up the beach close to the small dune below the shelter before heading towards the bodies.
The bodies were easy to spot, obviously. I could see darkened pools of blood all over the sand and wondered how the fuck I was going to get all that cleaned up before morning. I sighed and debated the best course of action for the corpses. Toss them out to sea, and they just might end up washed back on shore. Raine didn’t need to see that. I decided on cremation and started pulling the bodies together on the beach.
The stench was just fucking incredible. I shook my head as if that would make the smell dissipate from the air around me. I dragged the final body – Dreadlocks – over to the burning pile. Like a fucking sledgehammer, it hit me that he had had his hand on her breast. I lost it. I completely and totally lost it.
My fists flew out, pounding flesh and bone into the sand. My hand opened and clawed at his skin, scarring and tearing at it. I retrieved my jackknife from his neck and cut the skin around his head, ripping the coiled hair away and flinging it into the fire where it sizzled and added to the stench.