The Remnant

by Laura Liddell Nolen

  I nodded, my mouth dry.

  “And then you think, none of those things even exist anymore, and they never will again?”

  I stared back at her.

  “Well, the Lightness is nothing like that. It’s a million times worse. It’s a dissociative disorder that simulates a heart attack, over and over again, and all you can think of is how Earth is dead and we can never go back. And I’m afraid that one of these days, it’s going to kill him.”

  I looked around the bin. My brother was catatonic, brought down by the trauma and madness of space, and we were surrounded.

  Marcela seemed to be following the same train of thought. Her brow furrowed, and she placed a hand on West’s chest.

  I shook my head. “If those soldiers want us dead, all they have to do is take the wire off the keypad and wait for lightning to strike the bin.”

  “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

  “Sure. What’s the point? There’s no way we’re getting out of here alive, anyway.”

  “We could surrender,” said Mars.

  “Yeah, no. I’ll take the lightning.” It was suddenly all too much. I started laughing. “Isaiah once told me that everyone dies alone. But he was wrong. We’re gonna die together. Right here in this bin.”

  “You Turner kids. You have the emotional fortitude of kittens. Buck up! We’re all he’s got right now.”

  I looked at West, my West, lying there, and frowned. I’d finally found my family, what was left of it, and against all odds, they didn’t hate me anymore. It was a massive step in the right direction, but it still wasn’t enough, as long as West and my father hated each other. There had to be something more that I could do, preferably before the Asian Ark blew us all up and called it good. I frowned. I was definitely missing something.

  I looked from Mars, to West, and back again. “Actually, no. We’re not.”

  Twenty-six

  I had an idea, or the beginning of one, but what we needed was a plan. “First things first,” I said. “That’s a full tactical unit. They’ll breach the door any minute now. We need to figure a few things out before then. For example, why didn’t that guy shoot me?”

  “I don’t know. You didn’t return the favor, though, so I’m guessing he will next time.” Marcela leaned over West, rubbing his shoulder and arm in a slow, steady motion.

  “I’m guessing he won’t. He seemed like he’d had training. It felt deliberate.”

  “Why not? What’s stopping him?”

  “Did the reports mention any of the details of the proposed treaty with Command?”

  Marcela shook her head and went right on kneading West’s arm.

  “It’s like this: the Remnant will be recognized as an independent nation-state so long as two conditions are met: we stop the fighting on board the Ark within twenty-four hours, and, uh, I have to marry the Commander’s son.”

  “Wait—what? You were serious about that?” Her hand paused on West’s arm, if only for an instant.

  “He’s not so bad, actually.” I felt myself working up to a blush and pressed on hurriedly. “It could be worse. But you were right; it’s backed by Asian nukes. Meaning, if the treaty isn’t ratified within a day, they’re going to destroy us all.”

  “But, that’s—Char, that’s insane.”

  “Not really. They think we have nuclear capabilities, too. They think we blew up Five.”

  “Did we? Didn’t the Commander, I mean? Why not just kill him?”

  “Something about blaming all of us for electing him, and something else about how we’re really into warfare. I don’t know. I don’t think it was Plan A. Doesn’t matter. Right now, we need to ratify the treaty, and that means taking down Adam.”

  “Char, we’d need an army for that. He’s not alone in there.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I know.”

  “Hold on a minute. Let me stop you right there. There is no way we’re going to use the Commander’s forces against Adam. That’s the opposite of stopping a war.”

  I took a deep breath and hoped I didn’t sound crazy. Hoped I wasn’t crazy. “No, not the Commander. We need to wake West up. We need to ask him about the Nowhere Men.”

  “The guys who snatch lockies? They’d never help us.”

  “You might be surprised,” I said slowly. “I think they helped me once. Well, tried to.”

  Amiel shifted next to me. “They come out at night. They never raid the bins.”

  We looked at her. “Then how do they eat?” said Marcela.

  Amiel shrugged.

  “They’re grown men?” I asked. Amiel nodded. “Armed? Dressed in black? Kinda move together, keep to the shadows?”

  She nodded again.

  “Do they have a leader?”

  “I don’t know. Maxx thinks so. He has a friend who was taken. Maxx swears he saw him again, but he didn’t want to leave.”

  “Must not be so bad, then,” I said.

  “Or they’re so bad, he’s afraid to try to escape,” Marcela intoned. “Let’s not go believing in fairy tales, here.”

  “I think I know who they are. One of them, anyway. I’ve… run into them myself. And I think they’ll help us. Can you get us there?”

  Marcela interrupted. “Doesn’t matter, does it? If we leave the bin, we’ll be shot.”

  “But just say we were out there, no soldiers, Ames. Do you know where the Nowhere Men go? Could you get us there?”

  Amiel nodded.

  “Then I think we have a plan.”

  West rolled from his back onto his front, holding his head in both hands. Marcela touched the back of his neck distractedly.

  “Is that it, then?” she said. “Stop the Commander, depose Adam, find Maxx, join the Nowhere Men, and get you married off to the enemy?”

  “Maybe rescue Isaiah, if we’re making a list.” I gave a little shrug. “That about covers it.”

  “We better get started.”

  “That’s the spirit,” I said dryly. “Now. About those soldiers. Anyone got any bright ideas?”

  Marcela helped West to a sitting position, but he didn’t release his grip on his own head, or give any indication that he knew what was going on. “We could try shooting our way out,” she said.

  I shook my head. “There’s too many of them. We’d never make it. Is he—is he going to stay like that for awhile?”

  “Hard to say. It kinda varies. That was a pretty loud bolt, and it’s exactly the kinda thing that sets him off.”

  I glanced back at the panel next to the door, trying to figure out how many guards were still out there. “Can we weaponize the copper with the lightning?”

  “Too unpredictable. Plus, we’d be just as likely to get hit as they would,” said Mars, sounding irritated.

  “I guess none of it matters anyway, as long as West can’t move,” I said. My brother was still curled up on the floor at our feet.

  “Leave West to me,” she said. “I can get him to walk, when the time comes. Maybe we should just take a hostage. Worked for you, right?”

  I thought for a moment. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “It was a joke, Char. They’ve had training. It’d be impossible to catch one without getting shot.” I tilted my head at her, and she laughed. “Are you suggesting I hop out there and kidnap someone?”

  “No, not at all,” I replied. “That would be crazy. I’m suggesting you already have.”

  Twenty seconds later, I emerged from the bin, my hands held high. I made my eyes wide and let myself stumble when Marcela shoved me forward into the aisle, maintaining a rough grip around my throat with her forearm. I had to hand it to Marcela. She was really committed to her role. She pressed into the back of my neck, and I tripped, gasping, toward the nearest raised gun.

  It occurred to me that neither of us was doing much acting.

  “You shoot, she dies,” Mars called out into the space between the bins.

  The guard nearest me narrowed her eyes, but her gun, st
eady in two hands, lowered to point at the floor. “The Commander only wants her, for now. We have orders to take her in alive.”

  “You can have orders to bite me,” I said.

  The guard ignored me. “Let her go, and you can still walk away from this. No one has to die.”

  “You tell the Commander she’ll be in touch, if he means it. Charlotte Turner is still a prisoner of the Remnant. In the meantime, we better be all the way outta here before anyone moves,” Mars told her.

  West followed directly behind her, one arm around Amiel, who held my gun level. When we’d put two bins between us and the guards, Marcela relaxed her grip, and we started running again.

  But this time, we knew where we were going.

  “Just take us straight there,” I shouted to Amiel, letting her take the lead. We didn’t need to evade; we needed to arrive in enough time to avoid a shoot-out.

  “It’s around here,” she said, stopping sooner than I’d expected. The guards were still several bins away, but that wouldn’t last long, at the rate we were moving. “Right here!” she said. “This is where they go!”

  “So how do we get it open?” I shouted.

  “I don’t know! Knock, I guess!”

  We pounded on the door, all at once, until Mars pulled us away. “Okay, I think we can assume they heard that. Any more, and they’ll think they’re under attack.”

  “That’s all we need,” I muttered.

  The door slid open a crack, and I stepped back, showing my open palms to whoever was behind it. “We come in peace, but we’re being pursued.” Was it wise to tell the guard why I was here? I decided that it probably couldn’t hurt, at this point, and it might actually help, so I hastily added, “I’m Charlotte Turner, and I’m looking for my father. So, uh, take me to your leader, please.”

  Twenty-seven

  The door opened the rest of the way, and I led our little group over the threshold. Two of us—Mars and I—looked around with curiosity. We were in a small, wooden-paneled receiving room lined with Nowhere Men. They returned our gaze with open expressions of their own. The door locked behind us, but I couldn’t relax just yet. They weren’t planning to shoot us, but we weren’t necessarily wanted here, either.

  “Hi,” I began, “I’m not totally sure who you guys are. I don’t know anything about you, actually, but I’m Char—Charlotte—and this is West, my brother, and we were hoping that you could help us find our—”

  “Charlotte.” My father stepped into the hall and crossed the space between us in a single pace. “You’re here.” There was a half-breath of uncertainty before he pulled me into a slight embrace. Another breath, and I was fully enveloped in my father’s arms.

  I laughed into his shoulder, momentarily at a loss for words, and he hugged me tighter.

  In spite of everything—the madness of space and the endless prospect of war, the haunting tyranny of my mother’s death—my family was together again. I pulled back for as long as it took to memorize the sight of my father’s face before mine, then pressed back into his embrace.

  I was happy.

  It was a strange version of happiness, constrained by the uncertainty of the chaos around us. But for the first time, the heaviness of the years that lay between us failed to mitigate this moment. My eyes shut tightly against the once-familiar, starched white cotton of his upper sleeve. I had won. Never mind what happened next. We were together, and we were ready.

  My father was the first to let go.

  “West,” he said. It was the same tone he usually used with me. “Welcome.”

  West nodded wordlessly. His face betrayed no sign of hostility.

  “This is Amiel,” I said. “And Mar—”

  “Marcela Ramirez,” Mars cut in, extending a hand. They shook, and she took a step back toward West, suddenly shy.

  “They’re from the Remnant,” I added.

  “You are welcome,” my father said, looking at them both in turn.

  West took a step closer to Mars.

  My father cleared his throat and waved us into the next room. “We’re a small operation, but we’ve had remarkable success in gaining traction within the sectors controlled by Central Command. This is the main area here,” he waved around a room full of makeshift tables and chairs made from what appeared to be the sides, roof, and contents of a storage bin. The room was short and resembled a wide tunnel, giving it a temporary feeling. This was a place you passed through along your way, rather than a destination in its own right. “There are also sleeping quarters at each of these doors, all full for now. Most of us have an official, legitimate residence somewhere on board the Ark. And that’s about it. Welcome to Nowhere.”

  There was something vaguely off-balance about his tone. It crowded out the meaning of his words until I pinpointed it: He was addressing us like adults. He cared how things worked out, and unusually, he wasn’t sure what that would be. As impossible as it seemed, my father was nervous.

  Life was strange.

  “Is anyone from the Remnant? What do you do? How many of you are there?” I had a million questions, but Amiel was more insistent.

  She grabbed my father’s arm, forcing his attention to herself.

  “Is Maxx here? He’s a lockie, like me. Have you seen him?”

  Dad was taken aback, but he gave her a friendly look. “The lockies don’t come this way unless they’re joining us, and there’s no one here who goes by that name. Maybe look around.”

  Amiel’s little mouth tightened, and she flitted from room to room off the main hall. Each door she slammed shut was louder than the one before, mirroring the growing panic on her face.

  “He’s not here,” she announced at last. “Maxx isn’t here.”

  Dad gave her a sympathetic look. “We can send out a search party when it’s safer. We’re missing a few other people. We’ll add Maxx to the list.”

  “No,” she said. “That’ll be too late. We have to go now.”

  “Out of the question. It’s too dangerous. There’s a fight going on. One we’re not prepared for, Miss…” He waited while she ignored the request for her name. “Well. We all need to eat. Let’s talk about it after.”

  “But that’s exactly why we have to find him! Because it’s dangerous.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder. She was all bones beneath her shirt. I wondered whether that was normal for a girl her age, or if her life was as hard as it seemed. Then I shook my head. Of course she was hungry. Of course she was.

  I remember the look on Meghan’s face when she found me stealing her food after weeks of slowly starving in prison. Meghan had protected me. She’d given her life just to give me a shot at survival. Looking at Amiel, I felt like I could almost understand that.

  “Ames,” I said, using her brother’s name for her. “I get it, I really do. Isaiah’s missing, too. Those guards will kill us, even me, if we go out there again. Let’s eat. Just a little. Then maybe we’ll be able to set foot outside again.”

  Her worried eyes turned back to the entrance, then up to me.

  “Trust me,” I said, the words heavy on my tongue. “I’ll help you find him myself.” I met Marcela’s eye over Amiel’s head, and she gave me a quick nod.

  “Here. Sit with me,” said Mars. “We’re gonna figure this out, I promise.”

  She agreed, silently, and my dad motioned us toward a table. He fiddled with a fork as we sat, and several other members filed into the main room. Either it was meal time, or they’d been startled by Amiel’s frantic search of their rooms and were coming out to assess the situation in the mess hall. Before long, the short tables were full. Tin plates like something from an army kit lined the long makeshift tables. Dad had been paying more than a little attention to West since we walked in, but I sensed that West wasn’t ready to talk yet, so I took the lead on the conversation, hoping to avert any potential fireworks. Like I said, we were together at last, the three of us, so there was no end to my optimism.

  “So, Dad. You have a lai
r.”

  He half-attempted to cover his amusement. “Don’t be dramatic, Charlotte.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one with a lair and a secret army.”

  “It’s not an army. More like a strike team.”

  “Doesn’t answer the question, though, does it?” said West.

  “What question, son?” said Dad.

  He spread his arms out, drawing a little attention from the surrounding tables. “The question is why. Why do you have an army, Dad?”

  “We have our reasons,” he said.

  At this, West scoffed and shoved away from the table, which had been crafted quickly, cobbled together with a view toward transience. His plate clattered around, inviting instant silence from those around us until it fell back into place, by which time he was nearly out of the room. We watched him go.

  “Let him leave,” said Dad. “He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

  I looked after my brother until the door closed behind him. “He knows his way around.”

  Dad gave a vague nod, still staring. “He’s never come in through the front entrance before.”

  “There’s a back way?”

  “Connects to Central Command. Well, to the stairwell.” Dad didn’t lower his voice, so it must have been common knowledge. I’d thought the Rift was the only unplanned space on the outer hull of the ship, but there must have been a similar area in more than one sector.

  Uniformed guardians placed trough-like vessels onto the center of the tables, and I took the opportunity to look around the room. Several people wore black uniforms. Why did my father have so many of the Commander’s forces in his little compendium? Not that this was a huge group, but even one Command soldier would have been surprising.

  Come to think of it, nothing indicated that all the members were present. There was no telling how big a force it was.

  “This is quite an operation, Dad. How long have you been here?” I asked, digging in to the food. It was a stew of some kind—lovely and brown—and it had a slight crunch. It was savory, but without the chunks of meat I expected. Beside us, Amiel ate like a bear in a campsite. She was intense and silent, but I had been right about her. She was hungry.