Revenants Series (Book 2): Remnants

by Elisabeth, Lee

* * *

  Allyson

  It doesn't take long to set up my campsite, especially since I only have a rolling suitcase, a gun, and an old nylon hammock to my name. I had other things. Lots of things…before the world caved in, and then again, at the farm. But I'm not going to dwell on either of those things; one, because I miss it, or the other, because it scares me.

  The thing about packing up and moving on is that it shows you…quickly…just how little you need to survive. All those possessions, all those items that I believed to be so important, were just bits and pieces of litter lining life’s long, lonely road. I don’t need them. And I won’t mourn them.

  "So, why the big case?"

  Wayne is leaning against a neighboring tree, arms crossed. I thought he was at his tent, or working the fire, or doing whatever he was doing while I searched for two trees that would work for my bed.

  I brush a loose strand of hair away from my face. "Why not?" I ask, glancing at the suitcase.

  He pushes off the tree, moving closer. "Why not? Well, let's see...it's big, heavy...the casters are broken. It slows you down."

  I turn around and continue working to secure one side of the hammock to the thicker of the two trees. "Yeah, but it allows me to haul necessities I find along the way."

  He grunts but doesn't answer.

  I can feel his gaze brushing against my back. Feeling a need to break the silence, I turn around to thank him...again...for bringing me up the hill when I couldn't make it on my own, but he's gone. I scan the surrounding area, but it's no use. He's like a phantom, gone before I ever heard him leave.

  "Need some help?"

  The new voice startles me. I whip around to find one of the men I saw earlier standing behind me. He holds his hands up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He lowers his hands slowly. "I'm Daniel. I came over to see if you needed help," he says.

  I try to smile, but I've all but forgotten how, so I just say, "I can get it. Thanks, though."

  "Suit yourself."

  He turns to walk away. I don’t stop him. If you listen carefully, you can hear the subtle sounds of clothes moving; the way the fabric rubs together, creating a soft scratching sound. I've learned how to perfect the skill of listening for all the small sounds I used to ignore.

  I've had to.

  As he walks away, he calls out, "We'll be serving dinner soon. Why don't you join us? We want to get to know more about you."

  I watch him leave out of the corner of my eye. His back is straight, shoulders squared. He walks with purpose. I spend 45 seconds thinking about what that purpose is...wondering about it...before I turn around and look at my bed.

  Welcome home, Allyson.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daniel

  Emily is hanging wet clothes on the clothesline, which is really just a strand of thick twine stretched between two trees. She seems stiff and out of practice; her jerky movements make me wonder if she ever had to do her own laundry before the world ended. If her family was as rich as Landon led us to believe, probably not. But you can't advertise for maids or laundry service during the Apocalypse, so she's had to learn.

  She's probably better off for it.

  I can't help but notice how pretty she is, with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. It's a real shame she’s so cold. But...and there's always a but, isn't there? But, as I learn more about her life before the world ended, I find myself thinking, yeah, she may have been rich, but she was actually pretty poor. No career, and apparently no hobbies, either; a husband who loved her dying sister more than her; and, a father who took his own life after he was forced to kill his wife and daughter.

  I clear my throat. "Where's Landon?" I ask.

  She looks at me over her shoulder. "I'm not sure."

  "Is he in the tent?" I ask, glancing at the red tent that belonged to Erek before he gifted it to them.

  "I don’t know. I'm not at the tent," she says, turning back to the pile of wet clothes in front of her. She throws a grey t-shirt over the line, then bends to pick up the next article of clothing.

  "Was he in the tent the last time you were over there?" I ask once it becomes obvious that she's not going to say anything else.

  This time she doesn't turn around. "What are you? His keeper?"

  "No, but it's kind of hard to hide in a camp as small as ours, and I haven't seen him in a few hours."

  "Maybe he went for a walk?" she suggests.

  I look around the small meadow. "Where, though? And he's not at the stream or pond. I just checked."

  "It's a real mystery," she says shortly.

  "Could you try to be helpful? Or, are you…?"

  "When are we leaving?" she asks, cutting me off. "I'm ready to get out of this dump."

  "Dump?"

  "Yeah, here...this camp. It's awful."

  I rub my hand over my face, irritated. "Okay, I'm going to ask you one more time, Emily...where is Landon?"

  She slings a wet shirt over the line and whips around. "For the last time, Daniel...I. Don't. Know." She puts her hands on her hips. "So, if you didn't come over here to tell me we're leaving this nightmare you call a home, then you'll have to excuse me...I have more laundry to hang," she adds angrily.

  "Doesn't it worry you at all that your husband is missing?" I ask.

  "He's only missing to those looking for him. I'm not looking for him. So, no, I'm not worried...at all.”

  She turns and grabs the last pieces of wet clothing from the basket sitting at her feet. I watch as she slings them over the line. I could stand there, staring at her back, trying to find the right combination of words to tell her I think she's a royal pain in the butt, but she's not Meredith...and I don't have the energy to solve another mystery...so I just turn and walk away.

  * * *

  Meredith

  It's late afternoon, and I'm thinking about Nelson…although it's nothing good. I'm remembering the look on his face that last day, and the moment his triumphant expression stuttered, then broke. I'm remembering the moment he realized his greatest achievement was poised to become his downfall.

  I’m remembering the moment the bullet pierced his flesh.

  I hope he suffered.

  I hope whatever pain he felt was bad enough for her death matter.

  So much hope, but even if it were so, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't bring her back; it wouldn't bring back the normal I always took for granted; and, it wouldn't bring me any closer to a solution than I was in May.

  And even then, I was worlds away.

  I still have a bit of that old he's not all bad left in me. And, I guess it's true...he wasn't always bad. In the beginning, he left lengthy love letters in my mailbox and pinned under my windshield wipers, and he purchased expensive bouquets of flowers in colors I never imagined, and he opened doors. He was a true gentleman. I should have known then something was wrong...no one is that perfect. But I was young and naive, so there was no convincing me he wasn't the man of my dreams.

  I was nineteen when I met Nelson. He was a visiting professor at the prestigious university I attended; coincidentally my father’s, and Nelson’s, alma mater. I could have been accepted into the university on academic merit alone, but my father’s generous endowment certainly didn’t hurt my chances.

  I signed up for one of Nelson’s classes my sophomore year; biology, or maybe it was microbiology. I used to remember the course, down to the section number and the days and times it met, but it's been so long now, and it doesn't seem as important anymore. I do remember the first time he walked into the lecture hall. He was so handsome, dressed in an expensive grey suit, and wearing an equally expensive dark blue necktie. His voice was like silk, his mind brilliant. I spent hours in my private suite replaying taped lectures and imagining what my name might sound like rolling off his tongue. I was obsessed. I even faked not understanding the material until he agreed to tutor me on Thursday afternoons. I was in his bed by the third session.

  For obvious reasons,
I couldn't breathe a word about Nelson to anyone until after the class ended, which made the affair seem even more exciting. We spent hours laying between his blue satin sheets, naked, talking about things that mattered, and things that didn't. He had my heart the first time we made love, but he lawfully claimed it the following December in front of a stocky pay-by-the-hour preacher, a bored stepmother and half-sister, and one very angry father.

  All the love and newness I felt that day quickly evaporated to reveal something ugly and unexpected, maybe even to him. He seemed genuinely surprised and upset the first time he hit me...like it snuck up on him and yelled boo! really loud, scaring us both. He didn't seem as startled the second or third time. By the fourth incident, it was business as usual. Sometimes, after a fight, when the sting of his palm was still fresh on my face, I would try to list all the reasons I fell in love with him, but I couldn't recall a single one.

  I dropped out of school just before we married. I thought I could be happy being the pampered housewife of a rich physician; however, I was not as keen on being the battered housewife of a rich physician, so I began positioning myself to return to the university. I lied and said I wanted to finish my degree so I could help Nelson with his special project...the one that would ensure his name lived on forever. After all, I reminded him…there weren’t many other people he could trust with such an important research assignment.

  I became the compliant partner he always wished I would be.

  Nelson was thrilled with my decision...he thought I had finally got on board. I hadn't, but I needed to complete my education so I could get a job and earn my own money. It was the hardest two years of my life; all the hours spent studying, and late nights in the lab, and pretending to support a project my husband believed was right and necessary.

  It was especially difficult on the days I sported bruises from the night before.

  I shake the memory off like a cold rain. My heart always feels icy and bare after thinking about those days. I take a sip of warm water and begin walking again. He's restless today...walking here and there, in no particular pattern or route. I'm so tired of tracking him, but I know I must. I must follow him, if for no other reason than to absolve myself of Nelson's sins.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Allyson

  I've put off meeting the others for as long as I can.

  Wayne leads me to the main camp, where I sit on an overturned bucket, and fidget with my hands while an awkward silence descends on the group. Daniel, the man I met earlier, passes me a bowl of what looks to be some type of vegetable broth soup. I take a small bite. I feel like an impostor, like I shouldn't be here.

  Everyone is staring at me.

  It makes me feel incredibly uneasy.

  "So...Alli, is it?"

  I shift my attention to the woman speaking. "Allyson," I say, correcting her. I don’t want anyone to call me Alli again. Ever.

  She blushes. "My mistake. Well, I'm Chloe. You met my brother, Daniel, earlier. And of course, you’ve met Wayne."

  I nod.

  She quickly introduces me to the others sitting around the fire. I don't have the heart to tell her it doesn't matter. I won't bother remembering any of their names. Everyone eventually dies in this new world, typically sooner rather than later. It's best not to get too attached. Still, I catch snippets like "this is Emily" and "this is Kate and Jax". She motions to a large, brooding figure standing at the edge of the circle. "And this is Erek, our resident survival expert," she says, ending the round of introductions.

  "A doomsday prepper?" I ask.

  He spits a stream of brown juice into a red cup. "I wasn't one of those crazy jerks who sat around stockpiling rice and water, waiting for the world to end, if that's what you're asking," he says.

  I return his stare. "Maybe they weren't so crazy...seeing as how the world really did end."

  "We have something more important to discuss than Erek's survival skills," Daniel interrupts. He seems upset. Scared, even.

  "Like what?" Chloe asks, concerned.

  "Like Landon."

  "What about him?" Erek asks.

  "Well, has anyone seen him today? Or, am I the only one who has noticed he's missing?" Daniel asks.

  I watch as the others turn to look at Emily. Her arms are crossed, and her lips are pursed. She refuses to meet their eyes. I'm a little confused by the exchange until Erek says, "Well, he's your husband. Where is he?"

  She shrugs. "I'm not Landon's mother. He's free to travel by himself...without my permission," she adds, icily.

  "Not really the best time or place to take a stroll," Wayne observes.

  "When did you see him last?" Erek asks her.

  "The last time I saw him was the last time I saw him."

  "Listen lady, cut the cute act. Where...?"

  "I don't know, okay? And I don't really care," Emily replies angrily.

  Erek looks at the rest of us. "Man, if she doesn’t care where he is, why should we? We barely know the man."

  Daniel shakes his head. "This is insane. She’s insane!"

  "Daniel, please stop yelling," Chloe says, trying to calm him.

  "I won't stop yelling! Her husband is missing, and she hasn't batted an eyelash."

  Emily's bottom lip trembles. Just when I think she's going to cry she goes poker-faced instead. "I don't owe any of you anything!" she spits.

  She stands and walks to her tent.

  Daniel is on his feet, pacing back and forth. "This makes no sense. Where did he go?"

  "Maybe he went looking for something," Chloe suggests.

  "No,” Daniel says, shaking his head. “No, I think she did something to him."

  "She'd have a hard time getting the better of someone twice her size," Erek points out.

  "I don't care. She could have used a weapon. I just know something isn't right." Daniel says. "Something doesn't..."

  "He went back to her."

  Everyone stops talking and looks at the young girl Chloe introduced as Kate. By the surprised expressions on their faces, the girl must not speak often, if ever. Chloe bends down, moving closer to the young girl. "Kate, did you see Landon leave?"

  She nods and points to the road. "He went that way, early this morning," she says in a small but clear voice.

  "Did you talk to him?"

  She nods again.

  "What did he say?" Chloe asks her gently.

  "He said he was sorry, and he hated to leave me and Jax, but that he needed to go back. To her."

  "Did he say who she was?"

  The young girl shakes her head at the same time Daniel says, "He must have gone back to Asheville...back to Lila."

  "Huh?" Chloe and Erek ask in unison.

  Daniel runs a hand through his hair. "Emily hinted that Landon was in love with her sister, Lila. Lila died while they were still in Asheville, became a Rev, and attacked their mom." He pauses, then adds, "Emily's father committed suicide after he had to put Lila and his wife down for good."

  "What kind of crazy mess did you bring home?" Chloe asks, shaking her head in disbelief. "I swear, Daniel. You're a magnet for dysfunction."

  A giggle escapes my lips. Everyone looks at me, surprised…maybe a little offended. Wayne just grins. "What's so funny?" he asks.

  "Nothing. I just forgot how amusing normal, old-world problems could be."

  He raises an eyebrow. "This is normal?"

  I shrug. "Soap-opera normal maybe, but still. Landon...the man who loved a woman he couldn't have," I say in a dramatic narrator’s voice. "She died, came back to life, killed everybody, then died again. He should cut his losses and move on…maybe learn how to love the wife he already has…but he can't. So, what does he do? He returns to the ghost of his true love and will likely die in the process. Kind of Shakespearean, really," I add in my normal voice.

  "You got a weird way of lookin' at things," he says, lighting a cigarette. The cherry burns red, and white smoke billows out around his lips and nose.

  I don't like mee
ting new people, and I still feel like an outsider, but at least this group is interesting.

  I begin to relax.

  I might not have to kill them after all.

  * * *

  Chloe

  I needed to be alone after dinner, so I retired to the tent earlier than usual and zipped myself away from the rest of the world. I don’t bother changing clothes before bed these days. I haven’t done that since May…not since the last night I spent in my own bed, in my own house. Sometimes I miss having a bedtime routine. I miss washing my face with the citrus-scented sugar scrub; and I miss the way my freshly shaved legs felt against my flannel sheets; and, I miss pulling on my favorite pair of pajamas at the end of a long day. These days, I just lay down in the same clothes I spent the day in and hope I don’t have to pee during the night.

  I replay the day's events in my mind.

  Landon is gone.

  Kate finally spoke.

  Erek still won't talk to me. I miss him. I miss our friendly banter. I don't want to admit it, but it's true. I could cry...thinking about my feelings and remembering a time I believed he felt the same...but I don't want to cry tonight, so I move on.

  Allyson, our newest member, has a sense of humor. It may be a little on the dark side, but it's there, and it's refreshing. I already like her more than Emily, although that's not saying much since I don't like Emily at all. Or didn't. Now that I know what she's been through, I can't help but feel sorry for her. I know what it's like to be the other woman, but at least Molly Latham wasn't my sister. I don't know how anyone could be expected to handle something that treacherous.

  Still, Landon’s leaving was a wake-up call. It reminds me of the morning we woke up to find Meredith gone. It reminds me of all the other people we've lost along the way. It clangs around inside my head like a warning...don't get too close.

  I miss my parents. Badly. There's always been crazy people in this crazy world, but I knew I could count on my parents to bring stability to my life. Who brings it now? My gaze rests on the corner of Daniel's tent, where I tossed the small black Bible when I moved in the other day. I haven't opened it in several days, but it may as well be waving its arms, screaming "Choose me! Choose me!" I crawl over and pick it up. It's small, but it feels so incredibly heavy, like a reminder. I press it against my chest. It's getting dark. I'll have to wait for tomorrow's light to begin reading again.