Remnant

by Michael Clements

  Zoey gave Theia a gentle kiss on the top of her head. It made her feel warm, reminding her of how her father did the same thing while putting her to bed each night. Theia was tempted to say “I love you,” merely because of how she had habitually said it to her father when he kissed her goodnight.

  Zoey didn't look back as she started to leave the room, but just as she was, Marcus entered. The boss was alone, for the first time she had ever seen. “You've been in here for hours, Theia.”

  She sat up swiftly while rubbing her eyes. “I know. I'm sorry.”

  “You handled yourself well out there. You didn't run away... I'm impressed. Things are expected of you now, though. You've been through a lot, and I understand that. What happened last night was a lot to take in, being your first time and all. But you have to press on, understand?” Theia nodded. “If you want to help your friends in the sanctuary, you need to do your part to help me, understand?” She nodded again. “I'm gonna have to put you back in with the others if you can't pull your weight around here. Now, let's get up, and I'm gonna have you be on guard duty for now.”

  “Guard duty? What am I guarding?”

  “The church,” said Zoey. “You have to make sure everyone's safe in here.”

  “Uh...” Theia started to ask something, but stopped herself.

  “Yes?” said Marcus as he stood.

  “I was just wondering, why are we in a church? Why aren't we in a house, like in a neighborhood somewhere?”

  “Well,” Marcus chuckled, “The city is a shitty place to be in a time like this. This is my turf, though. Besides, we're easy targets if we stayed in some rural neighborhood. That's where all my enemies expect me to be. Not very many people look for guys like me in a church. The few that do... well, they don't last long enough to tell anyone.”

  'Guys like me' echoed through her mind. “What kind of guy are you?”

  Marcus stared at her a moment. He said nothing, deciding to simply walk out, but not before gesturing for Theia to follow.

  She was brought into one of the many Sunday-school rooms. One man sat guard next to it, who she caught dozing off for a moment as they approached. Marcus said something degrading to him for this, but she ignored it to avoid feeling worse about the situation. Inside the room, there were stacks of second-hand attire mixed with filthy, damaged weapons. All this is from dead people, she thought, then nearly wanted to cry.

  “You're of rank now,” said Marcus. “You'll dress like it now, too. Pick out something with faded colors, then try it on.” Theia sorted through the stacks, feeling pressured by the awkward silence to move quickly. She finally found a shirt and jacket that seemed to fit the requirements. She held it up to Marcus. “Sure, that works,” he said. It was a gray sweatshirt and a faded black jacket covered in dried dirt. Both were a little large for Theia, but she was willing to adjust. “Okay, try them on,” said Marcus.

  Theia froze, staring at the boss and the other man, noting the condensed space she was in, and the sole exit they were blocking. “M-my dad always said people should get dressed … by themselves.”

  “Well, some things change. You're not in your cozy home anymore.” Theia couldn't move at all. Even breathing was difficult at that moment. She very slowly set the clothes down, but didn't move to take off what she was wearing yet. After a moment, Marcus finally sighed. “Fine, you have thirty seconds to change. I'm tired of wasting time like this.” The two men walked out, and Theia started undressing just a fraction of a second before they shut the door. She counted all thirty of those seconds in her mind, and she was successful, save for accidentally putting the shirt on backwards. She pretended she hadn't when Marcus came back in. “Good. It fits you. You'll blend in with the others just fine.” He walked over to the cabinet in the far corner, and from the second drawer extracted a red and black bandanna. “Now put this on.”

  Theia obeyed. She tied it quickly as if she had been practicing. “My dad liked to wear red and black a lot.” Neither of the men commented, which offended her a little.

  “All right, now I'm taking you to Teddy. You'll be spending the rest of the day with him.”

  “Who's Teddy?”

  “Someone who helps us,” said the other man.

  Theia was hoping for a bit more explanation, but before she could ask, she was already being dragged around again. This time around the place, she saw several other of Marcus' armed children. She wondered how many of them once had families, and which of them still did. She imagined how Marcus likely began his work by seeking out kids her age to kidnap.

  Suddenly, it no longer mattered who she was being handed off to. Marcus had walked her past the sanctuary, coincidentally just as another meal was being served. She saw the usual large tub of hot goo. It didn't smell like oatmeal, but the smell did have the same appeal – the same blandness. “Wait!” she nearly screamed. Marcus stopped as Theia ran to the container, seeing its usual half-fill. I don't believe this, she thought, angry. She then ran down the hall, looking for a kitchen. The church was not large, which made it easy for her to find quickly. When reaching the kitchen, she immediately saw the stockpile present there. There was far, far more than just oatmeal and porridge. Every kind of food she could think of, save for fruits and vegetables, was there, stacked almost to the ceiling. Additionally, she found almost as many weapons, most of them sloppily piled in boxes. Guns weren't the only items in those particular boxes, but she saw grenades, what seemed to be landmines, and other objects she couldn't identify. One of Marcus' brutes located her and forcefully removed her from the kitchen, returning her to the boss.

  “Are you done?” Marcus impatiently said.

  “I want everyone to eat. There's more than enough food for everyone! You lied to me!”

  “Oh, please. You knew it was a lie from the start, but you believed me anyway. That's how it works here, Theia. You can accept it and stay, or you can not accept it and be left on your own again.”

  She felt an intense urge to snap back, but resisted. It required her to clench her teeth, which resulted in her biting the tip of her tongue. “Fine,” she growled at Marcus. “But this time, I get to choose who gets to eat.”

  Marcus grinned, his men laughed. “Deal,” he replied, amused.

  Shortly after the doors to the sanctuary opened, Theia rushed in behind the servers. For the first time, she had the freedom to release her feelings and without much regret. As her former peers quickly gathered around the food, the bigger ones plowing their way to the front, of course, Theia started to push them back. When the kids got a good look at her uniform, they were immediately afraid of her. “Back off!” she screamed at the bigger kids. One of them didn't heed, and when he started to get his food, Theia snatched it out of his hands, dumped the plastic bowl back into the pot, then kicked the boy in the crotch. “I said back off!” Everyone stayed away, fear in their eyes when they saw the rage in hers. Once she had their attention, she calmly said with her head down, “Matt...” Her old friend shyly stepped forward. “Get as much as you want.”

  The boy was paler than when she last saw him, and he was coughing ferociously. In his hand was the inhaler she gave him.

  Tears started to swell in her eyes, stinging her skin as they dripped down. “Everyone that's hungry … because of these jerks … you can have as much as you want, too.”

  It was all she needed to say. The bullies knew who they were, and they kept their distance. The other kids leaped for the opportunity and stepped up to their food with smiles and expressions of gratitude. Theia couldn't hear them, nor even see them anymore. Nothing but faint sounds and blurs. She stood there idly, half conscious, waiting for everyone who deserved a share to get theirs. Unfortunately, even then, there was not enough. The servers wheeled out the pot once it was depleted, and Theia absentmindedly followed them. When the servers shut the doors, she stumbled a few steps, then collapsed.

  One of the two men opened her side after slamming the door on his. He gripped her hair as if with rage,
pulling her from the car without giving her a chance to find footing. Despite her cries and her plead for him to stop hurting her, the man did not stop or slow down.

  “You wanna share her?” Theia heard the man say to the other. “Or you wanna wait your turn?” She was lifted by her hair and neck then slammed onto flat metal, likely the hood of the car. All the while, she flailed at him, crying every tear she could shed. When she screamed, a hand covered her mouth.

  It had fortunately ended as soon as it began. Just as she felt hands attempt to pull her pants down, she heard a woman scream, “Get your fucking hands off her!”

  Theia was freed, sliding off the hood and stumbled onto dirt and twigs.

  “You fucking PIGS!” the woman screeched.

  Theia removed the bag, catching sight of the trees and ferns around them. The car was to her back, and the others were surrounding her on every side. The woman was as close as the two men. There wasn't enough light to make out any faces, but it didn't matter. She jumped up, attempting to run through the wall of men, but one of them caught her. She struggled, but that man calmly kept her immobilized while another took the bag and put it back over her head. She was thankful this man was at least gentle, and stood idly.

  What conversation took place between the woman and the kidnappers, she couldn't remember. It was something about doing everything wrong. They must have done something wrong, she thought, because otherwise the lady wouldn't be angry with them. Next thing she clearly remembered was hearing two gunshots, the voices of her captors fell silent, and she never heard those voices again.

  The night wasn't over. Whoever saved her had not returned her to her home. Instead, they had put her in another car and taken her to a house. She knew it was a house once she stepped inside onto the hardwood floor. Then the man escorting her sat her on a bed, removing the bag. She was thankful there were lights, because she saw that woman again, and could finally see her face.

  “Do you remember me, Theia?”

  After thinking a moment, she admitted, “...Not really.”

  “I didn't think so. We've only met once or twice.” The woman stepped closer, gesturing to the man in the room to leave and close the door behind him. “Do you know why you're here? Did your father tell you anything about what's been going on?”

  “Dad? No, why? What's happening?”

  The woman paused, grimacing like she was disappointed. “He's done some very bad things, your father. I took you away from him.”

  Theia scowled. “You kidnapped me!”

  “We had to get to you, Theia. That required some … force. I am sorry, though. I didn't want anyone to hurt you.”

  “What did my dad do?” she asked, worried. “He would never do anything bad!”

  The ugly, old woman shook her head, then turned to walk out. “You poor thing.”

  She didn't know that that would be the last thing she ever heard the woman say.

  Theia gasped heavily. She found herself back on the same bed. She was alone, unaware of how she got there. After a minute, she remembered she was still at Marcus' prison being trained to be his pet. Tears returned to her eyes. She forced them out, all of them. She cried and cried, “Dad...”

  Her heart sank. The world had ended, and she was more alone than when she crawled out of that cabinet, crawling over fresh corpses. Nothing made sense.

  “Did you leave me to die?”

  ISAAC

  There was nothing to hear in that early hour of the following morning. No birds chirping, no people talking. It polarized that night by comparison, where there was nothing silent and too much to see. Isaac came out of hiding to return to his home, with only his two remaining loyalists with him. No words were spoken between them when they departed nor by the time they arrived.

  “I knew he'd go too far,” said Isaac, seeing the devastation Daniel wrought, having hoped he would be merciful to at least a few. There were bodies covering the courtyard, as if the people were trapped in a pit and forced to fight to the death.

  “Sir,” Travis called. “You should see this.”

  Isaac approached the site, seeing that Travis was showing him Daniel's corpse before he made it there. A blade had been driven into his heart three times, he saw. The blood had dried on him, and it was the closest to a burial he could get. “Ethan's signature,” he said. “No one else would bring a knife to a gunfight and live.”

  “No gun?” asked Travis. “How could Ethan have gotten the best of Daniel without a gun?”

  “He approached Daniel as a friend. He probably hid out for most of the massacre. Why would he kill him, though? Never got the impression the man hated us.” He looked out again at the courtyard filled with bodies. “I didn't want this, but you got what you deserved, friend,” he said as he stepped over Daniel's head.

  Figures appeared in the windows from every wing of the building around them. Isaac was alarmed at first, but upon seeing their faces, he saw that they were his men. They lowered their guns when they saw him and began making their way to the courtyard.

  “What's our next move?” asked Travis

  Isaac sighed deeply. “Can't guess. We can't stay here, that's for sure. Where to go, though?”

  He couldn't look away from the bodies. Before long, it stirred something in him. It was impacting him more greatly than he'd have thought it could. What is it like to die? As he walked, he found the body of Glen, and was surprised not to see Rachel's next to it. Is it like falling into a deep sleep? Do you remember you're dying when you're close? Then, his men came into the courtyard. Isaac counted four in total. Only six left, he thought with disappointment. I'm clearly not cut out to be a boss.

  “What do you want to do, boss?”

  “I don't know,” he repeated. “Before long, the troops will know what happened here. They'll probably take it.” Just gaining more and more ground, he thought. “We should do what I already said to do.” The others looked at him with confusion, apparently unaware of his meaning. “What allies do we have, besides Lance Smith?”

  “A pimp's not much of an ally, sir,” said Cameron.

  “Ethan had women, too. Even without the prospect of his sister on our side, he would have made a great ally. We should camp nearby, maybe in the scouts' conference room. Tonight, we'll -” Someone approached from the gate. It was a face he did not expect to see, but could not have been happier to behold. The man approached, but Isaac went to him faster. “Greetings, greetings. Do you have good news?” Judging by his messenger's face, the man did come with good news.

  “Great news, I think,” he said.

  “Well, go on, Cameron. Report.”

  “That kid came from a clan that's … utilizing kids. It trains them, arms them, and uses them to push back the troops, or lure them in. The kids seem to know what they're doing, too.”

  Genius, he thought. Malicious, but genius. “Human shields... How come I didn't think of that? Well, I suppose I'm a businessman, not a tactician.” Isaac folded his hands together, as was his usual mannerism when he was pleased. “Did you talk with them? Who leads them?”

  “His name is Marcus, uh... Solomon, I think.”

  A Solomon? Interesting, thought Isaac. “And did you speak with him?”

  “I did, sir. The kid didn't know his way there, so I caught up to him and asked questions to help him out. Turns out this clan isn't far from here. They meet in some old church off Sixth.”

  That's not close, either. “Thank you for coming back when you could. I hope you didn't run into any trouble.”

  “Not much,” replied Cameron. “What happened here?”

  Isaac answered, “Seth went looking for Glen's daughter, and he brought her back. The people didn't like that very much. We did what we had to. This Marcus... Is he in the market?”

  “Doesn't seem like it. Maybe new friends, but not any new members. They have all the numbers, and weapons, they need.”

  “Good,” said Isaac. “If he's friendly, I'd like to have a word with him. This place is
going up soon.”

  Cameron stepped in front of his boss. “Sir, with or without allies, we need somewhere to go. We should find somewhere to settle first, I think.”

  “I value your opinion,” replied Isaac, degrading Cameron with a sarcastic grin, “but if you don't mind, I can handle this.” Cameron nodded, stepping back. They could hear the sound of vehicles approaching, of Jeeps and a tank. Isaac had grown accustomed to the sound of military vehicles approaching. “Let's move out. Take only what you need,” he told his men. None seemed to require anything, for they were already moving to leave.

  Shortly after departure, Isaac looked back and saw a few troops infiltrating the building from every direction, clearing away the barriers they had constructed all around the first floor. Reduced and out in the open, Isaac acknowledged about himself and what was left of his clan. Their destination was well over a mile away, west. Isaac's men followed him, more vigilant than they ever previously needed to be.

  In time, they came up to the freeway, Interstate 405, but they did not cross it at the nearest overpass. Cameron led them along the road's path, now headed south for a while. Cameron stopped them in a small parking lot that was a safe few-hundred yards from their destination. Isaac could not tell if the church was old or styled to appear medieval.

  “This is it,” Cameron remarked. “They keep the kids in the sanctuary.”

  “Is it well guarded?” asked Isaac.