Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Forty-Seven | Jasper

It had been a month since Cohen's exile. The group had gotten on fine without the doctor, with Jasper's first-aid knowledge being taught to everybody in the group. He'd been taught the basics in boot camp, but nothing more than that. If the group could go without any major injuries, they would be alright until they found another medic, or possibly even some sort of book to help them learn more.

Like Jasper had promised, he'd increased the patrols on the forest side of the group's territory. He could see the rest of the group growing a bit weary the past two days, so he'd dialed it down. Once Jasper had adjusted to his new job, being the leader was stressful, but with the threat of Cohen gone, it wasn't as bad. His temper had simmered down as the days went on. But there was always the knowledge that there was a much larger group so close to them. A group he knew very well. Jasper was already aware what kind of people were there the moment he'd heard somebody mention The Mistress. A deep, darker part of him longed to see them again. But he knew better than that. He'd be a dead man the moment they found out where he was.

The most pressing matter Jasper had at hand was the biters. Earlier in the cold season a herd had gathered on the other side of the hill near the orchard. They'd purposefully avoided that area since it was discovered, but the biters had climbed the slope to approach the fence. Some made it over, but rarely had they become an issue—until now. Troves of them began to show up, several times he had to demand the group to come back inside the farmhouse, barricade the doors and windows, and wait for the rancid creatures to pass by.

Under Jasper's direction, Casimir had taken a new role within the group. People still looked up to Tom, much to Jasper's annoyance--he made an effort not to talk too much to the other man. Just seeing Tom speak with Killian on occasion made his blood boil, but he wasn't going to tell his partner who he could or couldn't spend time with. Waking up every day knowing he'd have to lead the people who so quickly ordered his death was almost sickening, but he'd gradually grown to accept it.

Now that Jasper was patrolling by the fence with Tom, his nerves were especially on edge. He'd quickly decided that only the older members of the group would be given the opportunity to walk along this part of the land and be given the task to hold the oncoming herd back. He, Darren, Tom and Jackson. But having the absence of having Killian at his side was something that left him feeling vulnerable--it only added to his uneasiness around Tom.

"We've got a few up ahead." Tom's deep voice rumbled. Jasper narrowed his eyes irritably, clenching his hand tighter around his tire iron. His lovely, lovely blunt-force weapon. The iron now had sentimental value, ever since he'd found it in that shed so long ago. When Tom spoke to the others, it sounded authoritative--something Jasper definitely didn't like. This was his group now, not Tom's. He would be the one giving the orders. Tom didn't seem to notice Jasper's annoyance, which only grew as the other man walked ahead of him.

Darren shot Jasper a warning glance. "It hasn't been that long, he's just adjusting."

"It's been more than a month," Jasper snapped, keeping his voice low so Tom and Jackson wouldn't hear him. A small snarl tugged at his lips, "He should know better by now."

"Jasper," Darren replied, even sharper than Jasper's snappy reaction, "I know you're on edge, you've got every right to be. But you need to calm down. Nobody is going to challenge you."

Jasper bit his tongue, not sure how to react. In the group he'd been in before, a leader could be challenged--a fight would ensue when one were slaughtered. The fights he'd witnessed were bloody and brutal--power was everything to them. Power had been everything to him for a long time as well. At the back of his mind, there would always be a wariness towards any possible threats. "I know." He finally said, "But that still doesn't excuse any of it." His muscles were already tense as they grew closer and closer to the biters at the fence. There were maybe half a dozen, all turned and ready to take a chunk out of any living thing.