The Lemerons (The Secret Archives Trilogy Book 2)

by Valerie Puri

  Movement caught her eye. From the woods, a group of five more lemerons approached. Fast. Brenden and Ethan continued their dance, killing the lemerons who abandoned the pile.

  “Look behind you,” she shouted, doubtful they could hear her. She was too far away.

  Time to act. Gripping the railing, she vaulted over it and dropped to the ground. Marlene landed in a crouch, looking up in time to see a lemeron snap its head toward her. It opened its nasty mouth, letting out a crackled scream as it charged.

  She sprung to her feet, drawing her sickle. Slashing the curved blade in front of her, she opened the lemeron’s throat. Congealed brown blood splattered her face. She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Stepping on its corpse, she dashed through the chaos of battle. Ethan swung wildly, cutting down advancing creatures with his sword in one hand and dagger in another.

  Marlene gave a nod of approval as she passed him. A blade in each hand was smart. He blinked, shaking his head, confused. There was no time to stop and explain. A lemeron snarled and lunged at Ethan. Brenden stabbed it through the side.

  They were being overrun and still didn’t notice the five other monsters running right for them.

  She charged past the advancing group, slicing the head off one as she went by. Its head hit the ground with a wet thump. The other four stopped to face her.

  These were people once. One still had the tattered remains of a dress hanging limply off boney shoulders. Its slack jaw tightened as it snarled and charged.

  Marlene slashed at it, cutting its arm off. The lemeron didn’t even notice. It continued attacking, brandishing dirty fingernails and blackened teeth.

  As she reached back, preparing to strike a blow, another seized her from behind. The ragged breath it drew rattled in Marlene’s ear.

  Don’t let it bite you!

  She squirmed, pulling frantically away from its face as the lemeron opened its mouth.

  “Not today,” she yelled, twisting her arm free.

  She rammed her elbow back, connecting to its jaw with a wet crack. The monster loosened its grip, giving her enough room to strike. Her blade stabbed the lemeron right through its open mouth. Its limbs went limp and crumpled to the ground.

  She charged the one-armed lemeron in the tattered dress, aiming her sickle at its neck.

  Marlene roared as she sliced its head clean off. It fell lifeless to the forest floor.

  Two more to go.

  They charged her at the same time. Marlene crouched. Extending her arm, she adjusted her grip on her sickle. Narrowing her eyes, she waited for them to get closer. When they were almost upon her, she sprung up, spinning in a circle. She felt resistance as her blade made contact two times.

  She stopped, her back to the creatures. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the two headless creatures collapse, dead.

  Ethan and Brenden were still fighting off the remaining lemerons. Red blood streamed down the side of Brenden’s face. Three of the monsters backed him against a tree as he tried to fight them off. Ethan was busy with two of his own.

  Marlene’s temper flared. No one - living or dead - threatened her family. She charged, swinging wildly, cutting down anything in her path.

  Letting out a shrill scream, she cut and slashed with her sickle. The blade cut air and lemeron flesh alike. It felt good. The sound of flesh ripping open was like music to her. Like the song always calling her. The one that was currently calling her back to the wall. She fought it for so long. It was so loud now, welcoming her to oblivion.

  “Marlene. Marlene! Stop!” Brenden screamed.

  She froze, blinking. Her arm raised, ready to strike. Only, all the lemerons were dead. Her target was Brenden. Holding his sword protectively in front of him, his eyes were wide and fearful.

  “Oh,” she gasped.

  Marlene staggered back, dropping her sickle. She sank to her knees, trembling. What’s happening to me? I almost killed my husband.

  Twenty-Nine

  Travis

  That didn’t go as planned. Travis’s father should have been the perfect candidate for a stand-in elder. But Isaac twisted his intentions. He made it seem like his father stepped up to remove Victor to clear the position for himself.

  It had been nearly a week since Marlene left and there was still no sign of her returning. The stench outside was becoming unbearable. It meant only one thing: more lemerons were reaching the wall.

  Travis rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. He really needed to stop doing that. It was a nervous habit, but he couldn’t help it. He balled his hands into fists, hoping that might be better.

  His father’s angry voice brought his attention back to the meeting. Travis, Jack, and Belle were meeting with Uncle Albert in the back of his shop.

  “I’ve been made a fool of by that snake. I didn’t want to get involved in this charade, but you made these two convince me,” Jack pointed at the old man. “Your idea didn’t work. Isaac outmaneuvered us.”

  “We’ll try with someone else,” Uncle Albert said, jotting some numbers down on a piece of parchment.

  “Like who, Belle?” His father asked sarcastically.

  The old man’s wrinkled hand paused. He looked up, peering at her through his thick glasses. Tapping the end of his feather quill to his cheek, he looked thoughtful.

  “Excellent idea,” he pointed the feather at Belle. “You will stand as a candidate for the interim elder.”

  She jerked her head back, scoffing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no chance I’ll be elected. Think about the word, el-der,” she said, punctuating each syllable. “I’m only seventeen. Over half the Commune’s older than me. Pick someone else.”

  “It has to be you,” Uncle Albert said.

  “No way. Just this morning, you said it had to be Mr. Caraway. Look how that turned out,” she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I say just let things lie. Marlene will be back soon enough to fix it.”

  “Will she?” Uncle Albert pursed his lips.

  Travis leaned forward. “You think she’s not coming back? What about the help she was going to bring with her? What about Jennie?”

  The old man set his quill down and stoppered his ink. “I don’t know any more than you about the happenings beyond the wall. Depending on them can’t be our only choice.” He turned to Belle. “We have to take action ourselves, or all of us will perish.”

  She shook her head. “It’s still not going to be me.”

  Travis’s father cleared his throat. “He’s right, Belle. You stand the best chance, and we can depend on you to do the right thing.”

  “Have you all lost your senses? Why on earth would anyone vote for a teenager to be their leader?” she protested.

  “No one can argue about your motives.” Jack leaned in. “They think I’m corrupt and power-hungry because I hauled Victor away, but you don’t have any dirt on your hands.”

  “And I don’t have any experience under my belt, either.”

  “You have more than you realize,” Uncle Albert rose. “I think we’ve all had a long day. Let’s get some rest and start fresh in the morning.”

  Belle got up and left without another word.

  “That was awkward,” Travis mumbled to himself.

  His father patted him on the back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  They left together, walking in silence down the narrow streets. Their house felt so empty with Jennie gone. Her bed was still neatly made as though she just got up and started her day. But she never came home to sleep under her covers.

  “You want a drink?” His father asked.

  Travis shrugged. “I guess some water.”

  His father filled up two glasses of water and placed them on the kitchen table. Travis sat, taking a drink.

  Jack rubbed his hand down his face. He looked older than he had in the morning. Wrinkles scratched their worry across his forehead.

  “This whole situation’s dangerous for all
of us. If we take action, we’re shut down. If we do nothing, we’re still down.”

  Travis furrowed his brow, not quite understanding what his father meant. “So… what should we do?”

  His father took a long drink of water, emptying his glass. He set it on the table with a clang.

  “We’ve done all we can today. Now let’s get some sleep and see what tomorrow brings.”

  Thirty

  Belle

  The tolling of the schoolhouse bell interrupted Belle’s deep sleep.

  “Again?” she grumbled.

  She rolled out of bed, irritated she had to leave her warm blankets. This would be the third assembly in two days. Enough was enough.

  She got dressed and went to the bathroom. She washed her face, hoping the water would help wake her up. Her bloodshot eyes didn’t want to stay open. What she would do for a cup of coffee… but rations were tighter now, and Travis didn’t have his kitchen connections anymore.

  Since Marlene left, rations were severely limited. Those in charge of provisions imposed restrictions of their own accord. They called it caution. Belle called it panic.

  She left the bathroom and walked into the main living room where her mom reclined on the couch reading a worn book. On the table beside her sat a cup of hot water with several apple slices in it. When rations were tight, her mom liked to pretend it was “tea.”

  To Belle, it was just a cup of water with an apple in it.

  “Are you ready to go?” Her mom asked, looking up from her book.

  “Yeah,” Belle glanced around. “Where’s dad?”

  “He’s already headed over. I was waiting for you.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

  Together she walked with her mom past the rows of houses and the shops. By the time they reached the town square, the bell stopped ringing. People were still pouring into the meeting hall of the Sanctuary.

  Everyone was filing in like little worker bees in a beehive. No identity, just drones working to keep the queen alive.

  “This is ridiculous,” Belle grumbled.

  “What’s that?” her mom asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Be careful with that, you don’t want people getting the wrong idea,” her mom warned in her airy voice.

  Belle bit her tongue instead of responding.

  Inside, she took her usual seat in the student section at the back. She crossed her arms and waited. People shifted on their benches as gossip and whispers filled the air.

  It was definitely an improvement from just the other day when everyone thought everyone else was out to get them. Paranoia did no good for a community. At least Isaac did one thing right.

  Belle scoffed. We’ll see how long that lasts.

  The door slammed shut, and the room grew quiet. A pair of shuffling feet swished across the floor. Belle’s jaw dropped open when she saw Uncle Albert slowly making his way to the podium. She felt the blood drain from her face. What was he up to?

  He never left his shop. Never. Not even for mandatory assemblies.

  Everyone was okay with it because he was so old and frail. He was just the friendly apothecary shop owner across the way. He got his updates and news from his customers, so he stayed informed on what went on during meetings.

  He climbed the steps to the podium on shaky legs. When he settled in at the top, he cleared his throat. His voice was scratchy as he addressed the room.

  “Hello, my dear friends and neighbors. It’s been years since I left my shop to come to an assembly. These old bones don’t let me get very far.”

  A few people chuckled sympathetically.

  “I know that we have unwanted visitors outside, and we’re missing an elder. I’m concerned for us all, but I’m thankful to Isaac here,” he gestured to Isaac sitting off to the side of the podium, “for volunteering to help us as interim elder.”

  Some people in the room clapped. Isaac shined a forced smile and nodded at Albert.

  “It’s such a burden for one person to bear, so I would like to offer up the name of someone I think can help.”

  Belle sat up, straight as a stick.

  Oh no, he’s not really going to do this.

  “This is someone I believe in. She is smart, skilled, and concerned for our safety.”

  No, no, no. Belle swallowed her protest.

  “I know she will be a wonderful help to Isaac and all of us until Elder Marlene comes back. With that said, I would like to propose Belle Joiner serve as interim elder.”

  No! Why would he do this? She told him she wouldn’t. He was forcing her into it in the most public way possible. She tried to shrink into a little ball so she could disappear.

  Isaac cleared his throat and stood. “Thank you, dear friend, for your thoughtful proposal.”

  Yeah, right. They aren’t friends. Isaac just probably doesn’t know his name.

  “All in favor, say aye,” Isaac said.

  To her surprise, many of the people in the room gave their consent. Did they just not realize she was a teenager trying to play with the big kids?

  “All opposed say nay.”

  Only a few people in the room said nay. They were probably members of the Order who only wanted their own in power.

  “The ayes have it,” Isaac announced, his smile faltering. “Would our newest elder, Belle Joiner, please join us on the podium?”

  She stood on rubber legs. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, so no one could see them shaking. She abandoned her chair and walked down the aisle. Every single eye in the room was on her. She felt them all, from curious glances to hateful stares.

  When she reached the top of the platform, someone started clapping. Others joined in. Soon, the room was filled with people clapping just for her.

  She swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t have to make a speech.

  Managing something, she said, “thank you for this opportunity to help.”

  Isaac shook her hand in front of the crowd as if congratulating her. He grinned at Belle, but his eyes said, “watch your back.”

  Thirty-One

  Sash

  Sash trekked down the long corridor. Bare lightbulbs suspended from the ceiling cast light every few yards. The thick, blue glass provided the only separation between him and his victims. As he walked, he felt their eyes on him. They cowered in the back of their concrete cells.

  He wondered if they remembered who he was. A docile couldn’t talk back, which is what he liked about them. They also couldn’t conspire, unlike those filthy undesirables.

  He huffed. He showed them, though. Each resident in a cell was an undesirable who the Order took down. Sash relished walking through the corridor containing his trophies. His chest swelled as he went further in.

  Each of these dull creatures was a person he obtained and brought to Goggles. They achieved their higher calling by successfully undergoing processing. Those that failed the transformation died and were put in the morgue drawers in the lab. It didn’t matter much to Sash. Either way, he eliminated a target and furthered the Order’s initiative.

  He stopped outside of the last inhabited cell. There were plenty more vacant ones on ahead, just waiting to be filled.

  Only a matter of time, he thought.

  He rapped on the blue glass, the crack of it echoing through the dim hall. A groan answered from within.

  Victor, or what was left of him, stepped into the edge of the light. His face was sunken in, more gaunt than ever. The transformation was taking hold.

  A yellow film crept into the edges of his eyes. Sash could still see intelligence behind Victor’s eyes, but soon that would fade - just like the rest of him. He would become another mindless creature.

  Victor’s haggard face contorted into a mixed expression of anger, fear, and begging. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a hoarse groan came out.

  “Save your breath,” Sash sneered. “You earned this. You used me as a tool. I’ve got a new ally now. Someone
who sees my true worth.”

  Victor lifted a weak arm, placing his hand on the blue glass partition. He widened his cloudy eyes, groaning.

  Sash curled his lip. “You really are disgusting. Enjoy your new purpose of serving others.”

  After turning to go back the way he came, he froze, his heart pausing in his chest.

  Every docile he passed by earlier stood so close to the glass, they almost touched it. They never did that. They always cowered in the back of their cells where it’s dark.

  Their bodies were rigid as a wooden board. They didn’t move, but all of them were staring at him.

  He trudged forward. Each docile’s gaze fixated on him. As he passed by, only their heads moved, keeping their yellow eyes locked on him. He quickened his pace, rushing back to the processing lab at the end of the hall. But the faster he went, the faster their creepy heads turned.

  He was nearly running now. The hammering of his feet on the concrete floor echoed through the hall. Yellow orbs flickered as he ran past. Their eyes still followed him.

  Finally, he reached the door. He flung it open, rushing inside. Slamming it shut, he locked it behind him. He pushed off the door and crossed the lab to the little office.

  Goggles looked up from his papers, startled from the intrusion.

  “What have you been feeding those things?” Sash grunted. Somehow this was the scrawny scientist’s fault.

  “Nothing lately. They won’t require sustenance for another few weeks.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

  Sash pointed at the door to the cells. “Those things in there are acting weird.”

  Goggles drew in a quick breath. “In what way? Tell me everything.”

  “It was like all of them were acting together. They were staring me down. Me. I delivered them here for a better life, and they glare at me with those damn yellow eyes.”

  Goggles snatched a piece of paper and pencil, scribbling furiously as Sash spoke. He mumbled something about intent as he wrote.