Chapter Six
1273 Words
Rodney and the boys had retreated back upstairs to sleep soon after Max returned to the pub. As much as they wanted to stay up and get to know their new guest, Dawson had insisted that they get some rest; they had a long few days ahead of them. After they disputed for a while, Max and Dawson eventually agreed to both keep watch.
Dawson was a natural born leader, it was engraved into her skin, as part of her as the blood pumping through her veins. Max was different. He had never been a boss or a mentor, well maybe to John as they were growing up, but not since then. It was a role he seemed to have developed in the midst of a worldwide crisis. Maybe that's when the real leaders came to the surface, in hopeless times when no one wants to lead.
He now took it upon himself to put himself in the firing line. It was pretty damn likely that he would die in the not too distant future, so he wanted to save as many lives as he could until then.
Every life is worth saving.
Max laughed when he thought of that phrase now. It wasn't that he didn't agree with it, it echoed through him, resonating far truer than it ever had done before. It was just the mouth he'd heard it from, Joey's mouth.
Every life is worth saving.
Max wanted to save every life, but not his, not Joey's. The one person who taught him that, was the one person Max had to see dead. He had to see the life slowly leave those mad, haunted eyes before he left this world.
Joey was a dead man.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Dawson chuckled, taking a sip from her second beer.
The two new companions were sat in the comfiest chairs they could find, with a table between them, facing the windows. The night had truly engulfed any form of light, but they wanted to be prepared for any unexpected visitors.
Max smiled, "My mum used to say that all the time."
He pictured her beaming face in his head, and it brought him more peace, comfort and reassurance than he'd had in a long time. He'd always tried to suppress thoughts of his departed family, assuming that the sadness would consume him like an uncontrollable tsunami, but that wasn't the case. It gave him warmth.
"Is she...?" Dawson asked as subtly as she could, hoping she hadn't unearthed some troubling memories.
"Mum? Nah. She passed away years before any of this. She went peacefully, her and Dad, thank God," Max explained, grateful that they hadn't been forced to see what life had become.
"I suppose that's all we can ask for now," Dawson conceded. She knew saying sorry wouldn't help.
"What about yours?" Max asked, finishing off his drink and immediately cracking open a new one.
Dawson shifted slightly in her seat.
"I...I didn't really know my parents. Well no, I didn't know them, at all," she admitted.
"That's awful, I'm so sorry," Max said. He too knew that an apology counted for nothing, but what else could he say?
"Hey, maybe it's a blessing now ay? I never knew my family, so I never had anyone to lose," Dawson joked, but she didn't mean it, that much was obvious.
"So, were you adopted or foster care or..."
"Foster care. Since I can remember really. My parents gave me up when I was about four, I was in and out of foster homes until eighteen, then went out on my own," Dawson explained with a hollowness to her tone.
Max suddenly felt so stupid for all those times he'd felt alone. His problems seemed so insignificant compared to hers, it really gave him an appreciation for the childhood memories he could still carry with him.
"And that's when you enlisted?" Max asked.
"What do you? How did you know I was in the army?" Dawson stammered.
"Please," Max laughed. "The way you carry yourself, the detailed orders, the way you organise and lead that lot, you scream military training."
Dawson shook her head and snickered.
"I didn't think it was that obvious. That lot up there were surprised when I told 'em!"
"Yeah well, we're not talking about the sharpest tools in the box are we," Max snorted. "Two kids and Rodney who pays just enough attention to his shadow to be s**t scared of it."
Dawson cracked up at that last remark, straining to keep from spitting her beer all down the window.
"I suppose that's true," she admitted. "What about you, what did you do before all this?"
"Me? The usual exciting office job, watching the world go to s**t from behind a desk," Max said with sarcastic enthusiasm.
"A desk job? You? I can't see it, you seem like a hands on kind of guy!" Dawson exclaimed.
"Yeah, well, I guess I've changed a lot since before," Max acknowledged; he had Lizzie to thank for that.
"I think everyone has," Dawson agreed.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't an uncomfortable or an awkward silence, they were both just reflecting on the changes that had brought them to this moment.
How had Max gone from throwing a plaque at a fish tank to this, he thought.
"How did you end up with that lot anyway?" Max eventually asked, gesturing in the vague direction of the three slumbering bodies above their heads.
"I used to volunteer down at my old foster home, in my leave. JJ and Karl were living there at the time, just coming to the end of their time in care when s**t hit the fan. We've stuck together since then, and met Rodney on the road a month or so later."
"How the f**k have you survived this long?" Max laughed, honestly wondering how she kept this group in check.
"Oh they're not that bad," Dawson insisted with a wry smile. "Karl's a tad overconfident and likes to run his mouth, but he's brave and loyal to a fault. JJ is slightly more reserved, but he's so calculated and methodical in his actions, he gets his brother out of a lot of scrapes. I trust that boy. And Rodney...well Rodney is Rodney, what you see is what you get. I guess some people just aren't cut out for this new f****d up world, but that doesn't mean he should get left behind. Plus, he's a nice guy, and a mean cook!"
Max smiled warmly throughout her description. He could tell how much she cared about these guys. She claimed that she'd never had a family growing up, but it was clear that she had one now. It was nice to see. Maybe it would be nice to be part of, Max thought.
"What about you and your friend?" Dawson pried.
Max's gut clenched, as if it had been tightened by a thousand wrenches are twisting at once.
"Yeah we met on the road, similar kind of thing," Max blurted, it was still too painful to say anything more.
"So, are you serious about joining me?" He asked, deliberately brushing aside her question.
Dawson nodded firmly, "I've been dying to go search for Han since he disappeared, but I couldn't risk the whole group. Rodney doesn't fight and the boys are just kids, it wasn't fair to put them in the firing line, but with your help, I think this can work."
"What have you got in the way of weapons?" Max enquired.
"Pfft, nothing too impressive. Mostly knives, clubs and random blunt instruments really. Oh and Karl has his...spear," Dawson mumbled, rolling her eyes in embarrassment.
"Spear?" Max scoffed.
"Look, it's just a kitchen knife strapped to a pool cue, but there's no point arguing with that boy!"
Max held his stomach as he creased with laughter, "Seriously Dawson, how the f**k have you survived?"
- Writer
