The Risen Series | Book 3 | Remnants

by Crow, Marie F.

  An explanation and a thank you wrapped in one. Terrence is either very good at diffusing situations or he was married at one point. With Ginjer beaming her southern charm in his direction, my vote is both.

  “Well Ginjer, with a ‘J’, Beth and Genny, I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. I am afraid we don’t have much to offer as far as accommodations, but I’m sure we can offer something to make your car a bit more comfortable.” Peyton smiles as my eyebrow arches. I am confused if this is a farewell or his welcome.

  “That’s how we live now,” he says shrugging. “It might not be the Hilton, but it makes it real easy to pack and move should the time come.” His smile is soft and almost embarrassed with how little that is left to them.

  I look around, really seeing this crew for the first time. Their suffering is a mantle of burdens making their shoulders slump with the weight of it. Their clothing is dingy. The colors the fabrics once held have faded, hanging heavily on their bodies like their grief. Cars have been adorned with sun bleached sheets hanging from windows to provide privacy for their ‘homes’ like curtains. They are parked like rows of apartments, leaving small spaces between each for mingling and attempts forcomforts with well-used chairs and small cooking grills. Every noise in the wind causes them to startle, only adding to the proof of their new standard of life.

  I can feel Ginjer and Genny staring at me, knowing that I am thinking of our safe, secure stone walls and the many crypts left still vacant and available for occupancy. One face holds the fear that I will speak up and the other holds the fear that I will not. It is the same within me.

  My heart is afraid I will turn my back on people who I can so easily help. My brain is afraid I will listen to my heart. The ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ of both sides is waging war in my mind with an angel and devil style of debate. The arguments fall like toy soldiers with how easy each side wins a battle, adding only to my confusion over what the right choice is with this mental war.

  “I appreciate your offer, but I think we can make do.” When in doubt, stall, and that is exactly what I do.

  “You don’t mean that you three are going to go back out there, alone?” Peyton’s face may be amused, but his voice proves his shock and disbelief of my answer.

  “No, that is not what she means.” Alicia’s eyes are turned on me now with that vile green tint. “They will stay with us.”

  “Yes, dear.” I smile at Alicia before continuing. “If you think that is best.”

  The green of her eyes fades as her anger melts from her. She knows the private meaning of that response and my gall at using it on her amuses her.

  “Your mother is a very funny woman,” Alicia tells Genny, who is finally showing some sign of life in her eyes with our secret and with the hopes of staying. Just a perfect ending to a red letter day.

  Chapter 8

  At first, I was hesitant about how much I should trust Collin and Terrence. I knew soon after our ‘capture’ that Collin was not a threat, but a mind can change in an instant when everything is in such short supply. If it wasn’t for Terrence calling out for help for his son, I would have not had any second thoughts about leaving them both behind in whatever form of life they had carved for themselves. Seeing him wearing the blood of his own child though turned my head from the fears I felt and left only confusion over moral rights and wrongs. I am filled with them still.

  These people need something to cling to again. A life that they can settle into once more providing them with the security they crave. I know that I can offer it to them, but at what risk? Other than Alicia, I don’t know these people. How well does she know them even? Is the safety of strangers worth risking the life of my daughter? My head tells me no, but sanity prodded by my guilt won’t let it be.

  Guilt fills my heart each time I make up my mind to leave them. I wonder what lessons I will be teaching Genny with my actions. Is it worth it to lose our humanity for the sake of our survival? If all social morals are gone, what is there to live for? If humanity falls, are we worth saving?

  Will each of us become sectioned off and guarded, daring another to cross what we have declared as ours while supplies grow thinner and thinner? How can we as a race rebuild if we have lost all trust for each other? How will we ever heal from this nightmare if we are determined only to inflict more suffering on each other? Who will be the first to scuff the lines drawn in the sand?

  “Really, Mom?” Genny’s voice startles me, and she smirks at my reaction. “The notebook, again?

  “It helps me to think.” I feel embarrassed having to justify my obsession.

  Genny had spent the night with Alicia trying to relive old times of sleepovers and late night giggling. It left Ginjer and I alone to our thoughts since neither of us really wanted to talk for fear of what the other was thinking. This morning the same thoughts are still swirling in my mind like the many voices of split personalities I had hoped writing them down would help me solve the debates my mind is holding with itself. Like the fine layer of dust that recoats the shelves after dusting, it turned out to only add more doubts to the many that are already dominating my thoughts.

  “What did you and Alicia talk about last night?” I ask, with my goal to redirect the conversation with a little wide-eyed wonder of her night.

  “Boys,” she tells me, with a smile and I am wishing I had just let her tease me to tears over the notebooks.

  “Really? Boys?” I ask, not even trying to hide my disbelief. Just yesterday, we were wading through dead animals, planning escape routes and hoping to survive the night in our cars, but they talked about boys? She is a true teenager at heart and my sister is still the corrupter of minors.

  “Mmhmm. Aunt Alicia is ‘seeing’ the Collin guy. Turns out, they knew each other before all of this happened. I think something pretty epic happened between them with how her mood goes all secretive when we talked about him.” Genny shrugs, not aware of the depth of significance her revelation holds for me.

  There was more than one reason why I felt Collin was not a real threat yesterday. I may know him. My mind fills with new questions as it races to put the facts together like a marred puzzle whose picture is too blurry to help. “Where is your Auntie Alicia now?”

  “Dunno. The Collin guy showed up and asked if they could talk. I heard Dad ask that enough before the divorce to know I did not want to stick around.” She holds this conversation casually, as she chews on one of the last bits of jerky that we keep stashed in the car for ‘just in case’ reasons. Hearing the word divorce still makes me cringe with shame as if there weren’t enough things to already make me feel as though I have failed her.

  “I know asking you to stay by the car would be a lost cause, but try to not wander around too far. You know how fast things can go wrong.” I pat her head and let my eyes try to find my sister. I need confirmation on the past that is whispering to me.

  “What about Ginjer?” Genny tends to drop the formal titles when it is just her and I. I used to correct her on it, but with how things are, I’m just glad she even speaks.

  “That is what I meant by ‘how fast things can go wrong’.” I smile at her and she returns it with a bit more of a mischievous flavor.

  It doesn’t take me long to find Alicia. I stand back and watch her go from car to car checking in on whoever is inside them. She hands out supplies and kind words with the hope of promoting sanity and survival. I always told her she was a natural leader just without the belief in herself to become one. I don’t know if it is belief now that inspires her or necessity pulling it from her. With how their eyes follow her, I do know that she has finally found her strengths. Sometimes disasters break people, but sometimes, just sometimes, they refine people. Those people become the heroes that we all need.

  “What are you gawking at?” Alicia asks, when heading my way after catching me staring at her.

  “Not sure. Last time we saw one another, you were hysterical about your lover not coming away with you on the trip bec
ause his wife had a garden party he had to attend. Now here you are helping support a group of people who seem ready to bolt under the covers with every breeze that passes. Mostly, I am just staring at the one woman I have missed the most and prayed to be safe somewhere.” My voice cracks with my last few words. I hadn’t meant for that to happen. A part of me is still in shock over having her standing here in front of me after all this time.

  Knowing her own voice would strain under the stress of her words, we just stand, holding hands and letting the unsaid words flow around us like a well-known melody.

  There are times when words aren’t large enough to fully capture the meaning of what you are trying to say. Their syllables are not long enough to encompass the length of the emotions you are feeling. This is one of those moments. So we don’t even try.

  “Where have you been?” Alicia asks me after some time has passed, and we can both successfully talk without falling apart.

  “Genny and I went to Ginjer’s when the neighborhood started getting rough. At first, it was fine, but once the images started showing on the news, everything just went chaotic.” I tell her as my mind refills with the memories of the first lootings on our street.

  At first, it was boggling to my neighbors as to the reasons why people would cause such harm when we were told it was a contained threat. We made jokes about ‘the crazies’ and how easily some people jump to the dooms-day-wagon when trouble happens. As the ‘containment’ spread faster than the news could keep up with, all chaos ensued with thoughts only of protecting yourself first. Those same neighbors were some of the first to encourage the chaos that overtook our streets after Allen died.

  “After that, we had it pretty good for a few months. I think the gate and the distance from town kept most of the early looters away. They quickly spread out though and when the first lootings occurred near us, we decided it was time to leave. From there we just kept moving around.” I feel bad about the lie, but I haven’t yet had time to come to a conclusion about the choices I want to make. Saying the wrong words with so many in earshot could take the choice from me. “What about you? How did you find these people?” My eyes roam over the ‘townsfolk’ when I ask her, hoping to find Collin again.

  “When everything started at the airport it slowly turned into a scene from a murder thriller. People were running everywhere screaming, begging for help. When the killing started, there were just screams. Everyone was rushing for the front doors being followed by those things. They were picked off like cattle with so many packed into narrow halls. A few of us took off down a different hall. We figured that if we stayed far away from the masses, it would increase our chances to escape. It worked. When we finally reached outside, we all stole different abandoned cabs without any second thoughts. Every time I saw sirens speeding up behind me, I was sure they were coming for me, but each time they zoomed past. I drove all the way back here; never stopping. It was just as bad here by the time I made it, though.” She pauses, taking a deep breath before rushing into her next explanation. “After finding what had become of your neighborhood, I had to go find her. I had to know if she was ok. I know it was against all the rules, but I had to. I needed to see my daughter. That is when I found Collin, sitting there in his house.”

  Genny is right. Alicia becomes very secretive when talking about Collin, but it’s not for the reasons Genny assumes. She and Collin have a lot of secrets to keep.

  “So, it is him?” I ask her, as the puzzle’s picture comes into view.

  “Yeah, it’s him.” She hugs herself with a mixture of sadness and shame over my discovery.

  “….and your daughter? Did you find her?” We are whispering now as I tense at the question to which I already know the answer.

  “No.” It is such a frail whisper from her that the wind carries Alicia’s word away as if it were a parent changing a scary subject. It is gone before I can fully think about it.

  There is no way to salvage the conversation after that discovery. Words are back to being vague and empty. You might as well as comment on how blue the sky overhead is or your favorite sports team. Anything said now will hold the same transparent conversational value.

  “Where is Charlie?” Alicia asks me, attempting to end the stalemate.

  It is my turn to turn secretive with the mention of my ex husband. “Dead.”

  “Are you sure? He could still be out there. We found each other…” Her words are supposed to be an inspirational pep talk, but I know the truth.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” She has revealed her secrets and now she wants mine. Just like the darkness of a room, sometimes not being alone is the only thing that can make secrets bearable.

  “You found him already?” She whispers it, her eyes going wide when the thoughts connect themselves like dots on a kid’s puzzle to form a bigger picture.

  “Yes…” I sigh against the question that I know is next.

  “Was he dead?” I can’t meet her eyes with the question that she asks me.

  “Not when I found him, no.” My explanation blooms on her face like a flower. Each petal a wider shock of expression upon her pretty features.

  We both stare at my daughter laughing and teasing the boy that is the cause of our arrival. “Does Genny know?”

  “Does she look like she knows? I would like to keep it that way. She has enough to upset her now. She doesn’t need any more nightmares. Not when they are already so abundant.” Alicia nods in agreement with me as we listen to the teens' laughter carried to us by the early winter wind. A sound that I thought I would never hear again.

  “Well, you up for a run?” Alicia’s eyes almost sparkle with mischief, changing the subject at hand.

  “I was never much of a jogger before…” I know what she means, but I am hoping she is as easily distracted with my horrible idea of humor as is my daughter.

  “Who was? We have all learned how to haul ass now, though.” The truth of her words makes me smile. “Whenever we come to a new area, Peyton wants to scout it to see what is where. Supplies. People. Other things…” Her voice falls when speaking of “other things” with no real idea of what to label them.

  “Is that how his leg got hurt?” I ask, as we watch the boy limp around, following behind Genny in conversation and movement.

  “I’ll come get you when we are ready.” She walks away before I can ask anything more about the injury. “Don’t look so glum. I’ll make sure you’re in my group.”

  She smiles at me as she walks backwards away from me.

  “Do I get to use the tape on Collin?” I tease her, thinking I will stun her into submission.

  “He prefers handcuffs.”

  I forgot with whom I was playing. “Yeah, that mental image will not encourage me to save his life if the shit hits the fan.” I smirk at her, letting her know that she wins.

  With a laugh, she leaves me standing with my thoughts as she goes to find out the day’s plans. I don’t want to help these people, or gain attachments to them. Watching Genny with her new friend, someone finally of her age, I know the risk I am running already.

  We will not be able to pick or choose who we invite to break off with us. It will be an all or no one kind of deal. Our lives hang like a feather in the wind already. It sways higher or lower depending on the forces it is under, blowing in complete confusion with no control over where each new sway will take it. As it stands, we have been able to live under the radar with people still clinging to their programming of avoiding cemeteries. If we were to bring ‘home’ so many new people, will that last? The more there are the more of a risk there is to being discovered and I am really not that sure yet I want to take the risk.

  Chapter 9

  Peyton did indeed want to scout the area. With the way the announcement caused a rush of worried whispers, I once again wonder what the real story is with the boy’s leg. The way their eyes all eventually come to stare at him, I become very curious. I watch as Genny unconsciously steps closer to the boy, her eyes set wit
h determination to battle their stares and my heart sinks some.

  “Looks like someone has a new boyfriend.” Ginjer smiles at me, teasing me, as if we should be celebrating this fact.

  “Yeah, thanks for saving him.” My whispered comment draws the attention of the ‘townsfolk’ closest to us. I arch my eyebrows at their looks making them turn away.

  “We’ll see, but I doubt it would have been the untreated wound that killed him,” she says to me with guarded meaning. “Maybe we shouldn’t encourage their friendship.”

  “Do you see me dropping rose petals or lighting candles here?” Once again, heads turn and I return their stares. “There is not a whole lot I can do about it. Want me to send her to her room?”

  “Can’t you control your own kid?” Ginjer’s complaint pulls a side of me forward, that I am not proud to own.

  Says the woman who has only had the desire to raise a dog.” I regret it as soon as it slips from my lips. “Ginjer, I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

  “No, you’re right. What do I know?” The tilt of her head shows me that she is no longer interested in talking with me. Honestly, I can’t blame her for the cold shoulder, but if one more person turns to look at me, I may take out my frustrations on them.

  Peyton has divided up the area on a stolen map from the mom-and-pop store with wide circles. Just as she said, Alicia and I are placed in the same circle outlining a well-known upper class neighborhood with its tall houses and expansive yards. I think I would have rather had the circle with the church with its lesser of a risk inhabitants than a neighborhood that stands a pretty good chance of being filled with something, to say the least. I wonder if it is too late to add items to the “keep an eye out for” list. I could use a little Holy Water or a big bag of common sense.