A Whisper in the Flame (The Ragers Series Book 1)

by Rebekah Nicole

  She’s hasn’t cared much for the men and women watching over our town since then. Unfortunate, really, because they seem to have kept a particular interest in her ever since that day.

  "Emma!" I hear called not far behind me. A smile breaks across my face as Lauren jogs to my side. Her neon sneakers echoing as they hit the blacktop.

  "Having a nice run?" I ask sarcastically.

  "Until I had to stop for you," she teases, throwing her arms around my neck and swinging me in a circle while we hug. Her long deep-brown ponytail smacks me in the face, filling my nose with the fruity scent of her shampoo as we laugh down the road.

  "You're looking full of school spirit today," I say, taking in her splattered pink yoga pants and her South River High t-shirt underneath her cross-country jacket.

  "Eh, I call it lazy athleticism."

  Lauren follows my eyes as they sweep back over to the empty home of Mr. Daniel. "Sucks not seeing him out here anymore. I miss getting their blossoms every spring," she says.

  Welcome to the new normal! Where you walk down your street and see not just one, but several empty homes. There are no homeowners, no renters, no cars in driveways. Yeah, sure, you'll find overgrown grass and cobwebs in all of the little nooks and crannies; so, there's that if you're into that sort of thing. It’s kind of like a haunted house in that manner, but maybe not quite as creepy, and there's like ten on one suburban neighborhood street.

  The way we live now, this world that only feels half-real; It’s like we’re all stuck in some kind of nightmarish dream. No matter how desperately we may want to, we can’t shake ourselves awake.

  Get up, Emma. Pinch yourself. Slap yourself. Fall off the bed. Do something- and this will all be over.

  As we near the front of our neighborhood, the Iron Giant can be seen behind the pond and green space, looming ten feet into the air, continually reminding us that we are better in here than out there.

  "Ugh." Lauren huffs, her eyes looking at the fence ahead.

  Shoker. The man guarding the fence isn’t doing his job well. My face turns pink in a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort as I sense his eyes looking us over. His green and camo uniform is neat and wrinkle-free. His shirt is tucked into his pants that are secured around his thin waist with a black belt. His gun is holstered to his belt while he rests his arms behind his back, hat pulled neatly over his hair.

  If he was turned the other way and standing guard like he should be, I wouldn't feel so uneasy. Instead, he stares at us with the intensity of a thousand burning coals, his eyes flickering over us with greed.

  "Oh, God," Lauren says, loud enough for him to hear, "Is that... is that an Infected!?" She points beyond the fence, making both the guard and I jump. As he turns to see what Lauren is pointing at, she tugs my arm, dragging me away from him.

  We hurry down the empty road, breaking into a brisk jog to get away from the creep of a guard. Once out of his view, Lauren doubles over, teeming with laughter.

  "Seriously, Lauren?" I laugh, having caught on to her, charade. "You would be an amazing actress."

  "Yeah, well, serves him right for eying two teenage girls like that. What a loser!"

  My high school sits lonely across the street, missing the hundreds of students and teachers who roam the grounds. The large brick building spans the length of two football fields. The grand stairs leading up to the school's main entrance and framed by tall white columns are almost empty compared to the mass of students that used to file up them every weekday morning.

  "School, sweet school," Lauren grumbles as we walk across the deserted street to campus.

  Shae and a few of her friends are grouped at the bottom of the stairs, chatting languidly. Her tightly curled dark black hair is braided across the top and pulled back into a loose ponytail, allowing it to spread out in an elegant bunch across her back. Her big brown eyes catch with mine, and I try to smile in her direction. Nope. She turns away from me without even the slightest up curl of her lips, cutting her eyes and tugging the collar of her jacket up against her russet brown skin.

  No surprise there.

  Some freshman rides his skateboard down the metal railing of the stairs. His friends cheer him on from the top, ready to take their shot.

  Lacey, South River's resident queen bee, also stands at the top of the stone steps, surrounded by a group of friends. Albeit a smaller group than it once was. Her co-cheer captain, Sarai, and her stand in the center of the group. They dominate the attention of the followers around them. Spotting me, her face turns to a twisted smile. She leans to Sarai's ear, allowing her long blond locks to fall over her face. Sarai glances down at me, covering her mouth in a snicker.

  The multipaneled glass windows behind Lacey carry her reflection, and I throw my hands in the air, sighing deeply as I watch her sweep her hair back again. It bounces across her back in laughter. My face reddens. I don't know why I let her get to me. Of course, out of the hundreds of students no longer here, she'd be one of the few I still have to put up with.

  Super fun!

  "I don't understand what her problem is."

  "Don't let the witch bother you, Ems. You know she's only jealous." Lauren replies, following my narrowed eyes up to Lacey and her crew.

  "Yeah, right," I say, an uncomfortable laugh rising in my throat. "What in the world would I have to make her jealous of me?"

  What? Is she jealous of my movie star good looks or my extraordinary athletic abilities? Oh wait, I've got neither of those. My arm loops gently through Lauren's tanned arm and steers her toward the side entrance. I'd much rather avoid Lacey at all costs.

  "How can you seriously not know? Thomas..."

  "Thomas?" I ask, in an attempt to fain innocence. As if I didn't know exactly which Thomas she was referring to.

  "Oh, stop," she retorts, breaking my charade. "The Thomas, you have been secretly crushing on for years."

  "Oh, yeah, that one," I laugh.

  "Yeah, that one. He's the reason Lacey hates you so much." Lauren reaches for the double door leading into the Hall of Arts, holding it open for me. Our school has always been more focused on sports than anything else, so naturally, all performance art classes have been shoved into one short hallway. We walk to the other end of the hall, making our way to the senior lockers.

  "But why? I don't get it. Thomas and I have barely spoken since the 8th grade."

  "Yeah, well, from what I've heard, anytime Lacey tried to make a pass at him or hint around that she was into him, he would bring you up." Lauren bumps into my side playfully, winking and grinning ear to ear.

  "Uh-huh... I highly doubt that." My lips pull down as we reach our lockers. I tug at my lock, spinning the combination and opening the door before continuing, "And as far as Lacey goes, I'm pretty sure she doesn't like anyone who isn't in her inner circle."

  "Well, yeah, of course not. But, you know, Lacey hates you in particular because Thomas didn't show any interest in her, but he would randomly start talking about you."

  My cheeks flush at the thought, and heat rises in my body. My Physics book slips through my clammy fingers, dropping right onto my foot.

  "Ouch!" I yelp. I turn my back to the lockers, leaning against them for support as I hold my injured foot in the air, nursing the pain. Dropping my foot back down, I tip my head back, frustration tickling my voice as I say, "I just- I wish I had known."

  Lauren kneels to the ground, retrieving my book for me. When she hands it to me, she locks her eyes with mine.

  "I really wish you would be more confident in yourself. If you could just see what I see, what others see, maybe then you would have noticed."

  The bell sounds overhead, sending us on our way to class.

  "Okay, but it’s been a whole month since he left. Shouldn't she be done with this whole bit?" I ask.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't count on that anytime soon." Lauren laughs, "Haters going to hate."

  ****

  "I have never been so relieved to finish an exam in my en
tire life! I mean Chemistry, Calculus, Western Civ; those were all easy. Physics? Nearly destroys me." I say to Lauren as we walk to our English Lit class.

  "Uh-huh. And who could be the actress now?" Lauren laughs. "I'm sure you aced it, like everything else you do."

  "Everything?" I gawk in disbelief. "You do know me, right? Have you seen me in gym class?"

  "Okay, fine, you're right. You are more accident-prone than anyone else I have ever met in my entire life."

  "Thank you, thank you very much." I bow as we enter the classroom and take our seats.

  Today, we're watching "Of Mice and Men" for the thirteenth millionth time. The class settles in, quiet under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Wells.

  Lauren sits to my left, with her phone dimmed in her lap, playing a game. Lacey sits on my right, passing notes back and forth with Sarai.

  Only half watching the movie, I doodle in my notebook. They aren't particularly good, but at least it is something to calm my mind as the nagging pit in my stomach returns.

  All morning I fought to keep it pushed down for the sake of exams, but now it is demanding that I take notice. I can't help but keep picturing Mom's face when we spoke about Dad. The concern in her eyes was unmistakable, and for her to try to hide it from me...

  "You okay?" Lauren whispers, nudging the pencil in my frozen hand.

  "What? Oh yeah, just thinking about Dad and Will. I miss them."

  "Heard anything new?" She asks, pressing a button to turn off the screen on her phone.

  "No, it’s been months."

  My brother, Will, was home for summer break when we received his draft letter. He got it within days of Dad receiving news of his own assignment at the base. Will may be three years older than me, but we look like twins in almost every way. We both have fair, lightly freckled skin, warm auburn red hair, and green eyes.

  We locked into each other before he even opened his letter, the color draining from our already pale skin, knowing that what he was about to read would change our world forever.

  Dad tried to assure us it would be all right. He would keep Will close by and make sure Mom and I were the first to get news of any changes. It didn't matter, though. Will knew that he was given the kiss of death. His eyes were hollow, and his cheeks were flush for weeks before they left.

  We used to get a letter every week, in the beginning. Then it slowed to monthly for a while. At some point, the messages just stopped altogether. It's been seven months since we heard from them last.

  I couldn't even tell you how many times we've written only to receive radio silence in return.

  "Do you think they're okay?" She asks in hushed tones, concern etched into little lines all over her face.

  "I- Yes, I'm sure it's fine." I duck my head back down, trying to shrink myself into the table to hide from her watchful stare.

  Whelp, I've done it now. No amount of "Oh yeahs" or "Everything is fine." is going to convince Lauren that it really is.

  "Hey, Emma," Lacey whispers in a sickening, fake, sweet voice. She leans towards my desk, "Did you hear about your want-to-be boyfriend? I heard Thomas' whole family left town because they were worried about some lunatic girl stalking their son. Any idea who that could be?"

  "Hey Lacey, did you hear about the girl who got her ass kicked for being a stuck-up bitch?" Lauren, not so quietly, hisses back, leaning across the other side of my desk.

  "Ladies!" Mrs. Wells shrills in our direction. She glares darkly at Lauren, letting her know her outburst will be discussed at home.

  My body shakes in aggravation. I don't think I can take any more stress today. My head just might burst into a smoldering flame.

  There it goes. It blazes when Lacey and Sarai snicker quietly beside me, Lacey watching for my reaction as they laugh. Oh, I'm so done.

  "Lacey, what in the hell did I do to you to make you see me as such a threat?" My temper boils over like water on a hot stove, and I'm on my feet before I know it. "You like Thomas, I get it. I'm sorry that he didn't feel the same way about you. But hey, no worries, he's not here anymore! Hasn't been for a whole month. Don't you think it’s time to move on and stop embarrassing yourself?"

  The class erupts in roars of laughter, drowning out Lacey's attempt at a retort.

  "Mrs. Carson! Take your seat now before I send you to the Principal’s office," Mrs. Wells does her best to yell across the noise.

  Behind her, the classroom door bursts open. We all jump at the noise, becoming quiet once more.

  "Mom?" Confusion washes over me as she hurries into the room. Her face is stone, unreadable, and cold. "What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

  "We have to go." She grabs my arm, leading me around the table towards the door. Nothing about her is out of place. Her hair still dances perfectly at the edge of her shoulders, her blouse is still wrinkle-free and tucked neatly into the front of her black dress pants, and her make-up doesn’t have a single smudge.

  Yet, nothing is right. Nothing about her is the woman I’m used to.

  "But why?!" My body stiffens as alarm sets in.

  "Mrs. Carson? You know the proper protocol for taking a student out of school early; you need to go to the office to check her out first." Mrs. Wells chastises my mother but appears worried all the same.

  "Michelle, please, we have to go!" She bares into her friend, giving her a meaningful expression, not willing to give away her secrets in front of all of these watchful eyes. "We'll be in the cellar. I'll explain everything then," she adds in a controlled whisper.

  "Emma, grab your backpack. We're leaving."

  I can't respond, it is like my tongue has been glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t talk, can’t ask questions. The only choice I have is to listen.

  Lauren steals my hand before I can walk too far away, "I'll talk to you later, yes?" The same look of worry stains her beautiful face yet again. I'm frightened. She feels it too.

  I nod silently, giving a faint half-smile to her as my mom clicks her shoes to the linoleum floor, signaling me to hurry. Forcing myself to turn around, I follow my mother out of the room.

  The classroom fills with the sound of students gossiping and laughing the second the door closes behind us. I can hear the noise fading as we reach the edge of the hall.

  We climb down the stairs and out of the great steel doors. Mom never glances back to me, never says a word of explanation. I know, already. Whatever her reasoning is, I know that I'm not ready to hear it. Not even a little.

  Chapter 3

  It’s funny how your life can seem perfectly normal. Perfectly simple. Until it's not.

  ****

  How can the sun betray me like this? The bright glowing warmth that presses through my window heats the floor at the foot of my bed, just as it always does during the first half of the day. It’s my favorite place in the house—a comfy warm spot, right at the edge of my rug. Sometimes I’ll drag my pillows to the floor and make myself a seat. I’ll sit in the sun’s natural lulling heat, feeling it cradle my feet in subtle warmth as I stare out my window. Daydreaming with my guitar in hand, jotting notes or lyrics in my journal.

  It lies to me today. The light that calls to me now, from where I’m sitting, hunched over and in shambles on my bed. It tries to tell me everything is okay; to come sit in it and everything will be OK. But I know the truth. Nothing will ever be the same again.

  My brain can see nothing but darkness. Empty and full. Suffocating and intoxicating all in one. It reaches into the depths of me, wrapping its cold, ugly fingers around my mind—bitterness and hate; anger and sorrow. Everything shuffles and jumbles into one.

  My brother is dead. Mom showed me the letter she got in the mail today from a Lieutenant Commander Jefferson of the United States Army. It told of how William had committed a terrible act of disservice to his country. They told us that he attempted to abandon his comrades in this war against the sick. It said that his misguided decision resulted in the death of a fellow soldier. Due to this detrimental infraction,
he was tried as a traitor, found guilty, and executed.

  Nothing else. No “I am sorry for your loss,” no explanation as to why Will would have tried to escape, and no letter from my father.

  This cannot be real. Maybe I’m slipping. Perhaps I’m dreaming, and this is all a terrible, atrocious nightmare. Will would have never done what they say he has. Not unless he thought there was no other option.

  My heart hammers in my chest, pushing against my rib cage full of wrath and fury at the people who could have caused such a thing to happen. I want to scream. I want to shout at the top of my lungs. I want to curse the people who have taken a part of my soul away from me.

  Some people say darkness can’t hurt you. They say that what you’re seeing is the same thing in the dark that is in the light. They’re wrong. Darkness can hurt you. It can trip you; it can scare you. It can keep you bogged down.

  But if what they say is true, about it being the same in the dark as it is in the light, well, then that’s when the real trouble comes. When you can’t even trust your own eyes. When you can no longer trust anything. Just because the light is shining on it doesn’t mean it isn’t truly dark.

  "Ems." Mom calls soft and consoling. She pulls my hair out of my face while I keep my head down, re-reading the little inked words of the letter that I've already read ten times.

  "Hunny, we have to go.” Her voice is calm, steady. Always composed. “Grab a few things, only enough for you to carry. We need to get out of here and hide."

  I tilt my head to the side, searching her face, trying to see past the mask. My hand trembles, gripping the letter in a manic sort of way.

  "Why? Why do we need to hide?"

  "We aren’t being told everything. Something isn’t right here. Your dad promised he would keep Will safe. He promised he would keep us in the loop on what's been going on. He hasn't, though. This isn't like him at all. We hear nothing from either of them in months, and then out of the blue, they kill my son!" Her voice cracks ever so slightly as she says it. "Why didn't they mention anything about your father? Why didn't he send a letter of his own?"