Jayson: Part III

"Hands up and follow me," Billy whispered , nudging Jayson's forehead with the gun.

Jayson did as he was instructed, stuffing a scream back in his chest where it belonged as he tried to roll into a sitting position. After nearly a minute of struggling, Billy yanked him by the collar and shoved him to his feet.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as something pinched in his side, forcing him to stuff his fist into his mouth. Shuffling toward the open door, he paused between steps, fighting to catch his breath.

Once he reached the threshold, a stranger grabbed his arm and dragged him down the small walkway leading to the rental office. In only his socks, every pebble dug into the soft pads of Jayson's feet, and without a jacket, goosebumps erupted along his bare arms as the lingering humidity dusted his skin.

Flashlights shined from a semicircle gathered around the office, all aimed at Jayson's face. No one said anything; they watched in silence, faceless spectators behind blinding lights.

Oh, my God, these people are gonna lynch me.

That might be a merciful option compared to the other scenarios rolling through his mind, including tossing him to the Soapies or worse, turning him over to Benson.

None of these options were appealing, and based on the rough treatment and fact Billy already had his name in less than twelve hours, Jayson had little hope these people would listen to his side. After all, he was the outsider, and according to the retired Marine's propaganda, a criminal.

The crowd made no move toward him as the second man dragged Jayson into the office and slammed him into a hard, wooden chair.

"Tie his hands and guard the door," Billy said from outside. "I want to question him without Eli or Gloria interfering."

That didn't bode well.

Plastic zip ties dug into his wrists, anchoring him to the chair with no way out of this room. And even if he could leave, he wouldn't make it far.

As the stranger shuffled outside, Billy shined his flashlight in Jayson's face, blinding him. Better than punching him though, which Jayson had low key expected.

"Alright, J.R. Start talking. Who are you? Why did you appear the same day a broadcast was sent out from a military base, giving your exact description?"

All good questions. Though to be fair, there were loads of men with blond hair and green eyes. The truck would be more difficult to explain, and Billy couldn't be stupid enough to buy any lies Jayson tried to come up with.

Squinting in the bright torch light, Jayson looked in what he hoped was Billy's face. "My name is Jayson Recklaw, former Staff Sergeant in the U.S. Army. I can't claim to know what description was given, but I'm here because I crashed the vehicle I was in outside your lovely city."

"Don't get smart with me," Billy snapped with a dangerous edge. "I still might shoot you if I decide you're a threat. Why is the government after you?"

If only he knew. However, Jayson had a guess, and Billy wasn't going to like it. "Honestly? You'd have to ask them. I left that facility two days ago without anyone to bar my exit. In fact, they encouraged my departure."

A pause followed by a wobble of the light answered him. Then, "That doesn't make sense. The men on the radio said you murdered their soldiers and to consider you a dangerous criminal. Why would I believe a man on the run over the government?"

If Jayson didn't come up with something convincing soon, he was done for. Latching onto the first thing his poor mind could conjure, he said, "Do you feel that way about the police when they target specific communities?"

Silence descended upon the pair faster than the Road Runner leaving Wile E. Coyote in the dust. Whatever compelled Jayson to say that had to have been a death wish. He was too white to say that; to even be allowed to use that as an excuse, but there it was anyway.

Seconds ticked between them, stretching painfully as Jayson waited for Billy to respond. After a full minute, the other man answered. "Hm. You got balls to say somethin' that bold, but you ain't wrong. But you also didn't deny killin' those men."

"They were dead anyway."

No sense in denying it. Jayson wasn't a murderer, but he wouldn't hide from his actions. Unlike Benson, he would face the consequences like a decent human being with morals.

"You ain't helpin yo case," Billy drawled. His words warbled with a sense of uncertainty, as if he hoped Jayson would elaborate. "I need to know you ain't gonna be a problem. So either you give me a reason to believe you, or I'm gettin' on that radio to alert yo friends to come get you."

Crap, what could he say to prove his innocence? Nothing. Either Billy would believe him or he wouldn't, and Jayson didn't know what else to tell him. "What do you want from me?" he mumbled, shaking his head. "Those guys came looking for me a few hours after I left. I had taken refuge in an abandoned gas station when these guys got out of their truck without their weapons. An infected coyote got them, so I did the only decent thing I could think of and put them out of their misery. I never asked for any of this. I never wanted to be at that facility to begin with."

Jayson was rambling, but the words wouldn't stop now that he had nothing to lose. Or perhaps he had everything to lose since his life was on the line. Not that it counted for much; however, anything was better than being handed over to Benson, who would most likely cover up his disappearance. No one — not Monica, Taylor, or Jeanie — would know the truth. Anyone working at that wretched place wouldn't care. They'd probably turn the other way while mad scientists gleefully carried out their evil experiments or whatever that sick psychologist had planned.

"My friends and I lived in Phoenix before the apocalypse. My roommate's dad works for the government and sent a helicopter for us. My best friend was killed the first day by Soa— Z's, and his girlfriend was bitten on our way to the rendezvous. When we got to this base, we were all locked away like animals, stuck in isolation for almost a week, given no information. Then we were told Jeannie died from complications to the bite, except I found out she wasn't."

More than that, Jeannie, his best friend's girlfriend that Jayson should have looked after better, had no memory of him or anything else preceding the apocalypse. It was as if she were a completely different person.

"How'd you find out?" Billy asked as a chair scraped the floor. The flashlight moved, dropping its rays into Jayson's lap.

Jayson started to take a deep breath until his side pinched, and he held back a groan. Sucking in a sharp burst of air, he counted to thirteen before he could reasonably speak again. "I couldn't sleep one night, and I went outside to smoke. She was there with another soldier, arm missing from where we'd amputated it, but she didn't remember anything. She looked at me like a stranger, and I knew right then the people had been lying to us all along. They kept me off my PTSD meds, and after two weeks of withdrawals, I snapped. I beat the crap out of my roommate — I'm not proud of it — and the facility head used that as a reason to send me away. You know the rest. I crashed truck, and now I'm here."

Tears brimmed, threatening to spill the moment Jayson blinked. What he'd done was unforgivable, no matter how miserable he'd been. He couldn't take any of it back, nor could he make it right to the people who mattered. If there was any reason he deserved the fate of being returned to the authorities, it was for his actions against Taylor, who hadn't deserved that beating.

"I don't want to go back," he added in a tight voice. "If you want to kill me, just promise to make it fast."

Billy said nothing as he sighed. Thirty seconds became a minute, and a minute evolved into immeasurable time as the men sat in the dark. The only thing louder than the silence was Jayson's heart pounding inside his chest as he waited for the inevitable outcome.

When the darkness threatened to close in, Billy finally spoke. "My little brother trusts you. I don't know why; he just does. And most of the time, he's right about folks, 'cept he's like Ma and wants to take in the whole world. I can't have someone here who's gonna put our community in danger."

Jayson's heart sank at what felt like the final nail in the coffin. He understood Billy — Jayson had wanted the same thing for his friends, yet had failed miserably. These survivors needed unity if they were going to weather the apocalypse, even if that meant condemning someone else to an undesirable fate. "Do what you need to do," he whispered.

"You said you was in the military?" Billy asked, surprising him.

Jayson nodded, not sure where the other man was going with this. "Yes. I got out after my last deployment."

The flashlight moved as Billy stood and moved behind Jayson. A knife slid between his wrists, slicing away the plastic keeping him bound, but Jayson didn't dare allow relief to fill his chest; not until he knew where he stood.

Rubbing life back into his numb appendages, he asked, "What now?"

Another sigh. "If I were smart, I'd send yo ass back. We don't need trouble, 'specially from the military, but you're right. I can't trust everything they have to say while they're all holed up in comfort while we're forced to face the Z's on our own. Eli knows things. He told me the morning of the pandemic not to leave the house; said he had a funny feeling somethin' wasn't right. He's taken a strange likin' to ya, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. But if you hurt him in any way, I'll drag you back to that facility myself, ya hear?"

Tears splashed Jayson's cheeks unhindered, and he barely restrained emptying his bladder in sheer relief. Dizziness crashed into him in waves, threatening to send Jayson to the ground in a sobbing heap. He wasn't going back. No one was killing him. He... had a second chance.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Billy grunted before helping Jayson to his feet, this time more gentle in handling as the former led Jayson to the exit. "Don't thank me yet," he grumbled. "Once you're better, I expect you to help out 'round here. Everyone pulls they own weight, and I want you to train folks with a weapon and fightin' tactics."

If there was anything Jayson could do well, it was teach people how to survive. He'd done it often enough in the military, constantly honing his skills with his comrades, always preparing for the eventuality of war. And though it would most certainly dredge unpleasant memories to the surface, Jayson would gladly relive his horrific past if it meant he could help others.

"Okay. Whatever you need."

Outside, a new fire blazed in one of the round garbage barrels, casting an orange glow on the people waiting, warming their hands near the flames and chattering among themselves. When the men walked out, everyone's faces turned to them.

The stranger who'd led Jayson into the office towered high above him, staring down his crooked nose with a wary scowl as he addressed Billy. "So what're we gonna do with him?"

"He's staying here with us. If that base sends out another broadcast, we're gonna answer and tell 'em their man is dead. We found a Z matching his description, and we put a bullet between his eyes before burning the body."

On cue, Eli burst out of his room and into the small communal area in socked feet, running to Billy and Jayson. Fists at his sides, he glared at his much taller brother, resembling a Chihuahua antagonizing a Rottweiler. "What do you think you're doing?"

Knuckling Eli's head, Billy chortled. "I had a feeling you'd barge in sooner or later. I was questioning yo boyfriend."

Heat flushed Jayson's face. Boyfriend? Nah, they had to be playing. The end of the world wasn't the time for a hookup. Monica had taught him that much. Not to mention, he was straight; mixed feelings for Taylor aside. And Eli was a stranger! Nope. Nope. Nope. All reasons not to get involved. Totally not going there. Nope. Too soon.

Eli shushed him and stumbled backward. "You can't just— I never said— dude, just cuz I'm gay doesn't mean I wanna hit on everyone or that you gotta out me like that. Asshole."

Jayson snorted at the last part. It was a low blow, one that shouldn't have been blasted, even as a joke. Eli should have the right to divulge that information when he was ready, and he deserved to be comfortable with himself.

Trying to put him at ease, Jayson said "Relax. I lived with my gay roommate for six years. I'm not bothered by it." Pansexual, actually, but Taylor wasn't here to make the correction, and Eli needed confirmation, not technicalities.

Eli's shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his fists remained clenched and his expression tight. Then, he punched his brother's shoulder. "You're such a jerk."

"A jerk who just wants to protect his baby brother," Billy retorted, unfazed by Eli's outburst. "We've come to an agreement though, so you better hope yo instincts are right."

"They are," Eli affirmed without a hint of doubt. "Have a little faith."

Billy scoffed. "Yeah, okay. You coulda told me the winnin' lottery numbers when it mattered."

"Money is material," Eli said with a shrug before taking Jayson by the arm and tugging him toward the walkway. "Not like you can take money with you when you die."

Billy rolled his eyes and shook his head. Before Eli and Jayson could turn, the man extended his hand to the latter with a smile. "Welcome to the community, J.R. Don't make me regret this."

A/N

So what do you think? Billy can be reasonable, right? He just wants to protect his family, and this apocalypse seems to have brought out the worst in a lot of people. I just read an article this morning about that, where comedians are noticing people forgot how to behave. I went back to work in November to a completely different world. Customers have always been awful, but the pandemic took it to new levels.

Anyway, what did you think?

Thank you all so much for reading!