The Remembered

by Michael J Sanford

  Wyatt tried to twist out of the Bad Man's grip, but the shade contorted its shapeless body in the opposite direction. With a howl, the creature of shadow hurled Wyatt, sending him sliding along the stone floor and into the nearest wall. The impact rattled the breath from his lungs and cracked at least one rib.

  The Draygans turned toward the Bad Man, sending out their fire braids with precision. Flames cut through the Bad Man as it shot past the nearest Draygan. The braids snapped hungrily at the air, but did nothing but displace the inky fog that constituted the inhuman creature. The Bad Mad howled and struck one of the Draygans, sending him into a pillar. The Draygan slumped to the floor and didn't move.

  Ezric and the other Draygans took to the air, but so, too, did the Bad Man. Wyatt surged up from the wall, but could do nothing from the ground as the Bad Man snaked through the air, striking the Draygans at every opportunity, yet taking no damage from the return attacks.

  "Ezric!" Wyatt shouted. It wouldn't be long before the Draygans were all killed. It would be a slaughter. "Get out of here!"

  Ezric spun in the air, trailing fire, and looked at Wyatt. "No, we stand with you," he said.

  One of the Draygans landed on the floor next to Wyatt, his body a mangled mess. "This isn't your fight," Wyatt yelled. "Go!"

  Ezric's eyes narrowed, but then he nodded. "Withdraw!" he shouted as his wings carried him quickly upward.

  Wyatt watched with relief as Ezric and the other remaining Draygan shot through the broken window. The Bad Man coalesced on the floor directly between Wyatt and the Lord Regent. It smiled.

  "Perhaps it was you that should have brought better help," the Bad Man said.

  "We're not scared of you," Wyatt asserted. "Either of you." Wyatt moved to the side to get a view of the Lord Regent and Rozen, but the Bad Man copied his movement.

  "No?" the Bad Man asked. He gestured at Athena, Maia, and Ms. Abagail. "You shouldn't speak for any but yourself, Wyatt. Seems you're the one alone, after all."

  Something tickled at the back of Wyatt's mind, and he laughed. The Bad Man tilted its head to the side. "I'm not alone," Wyatt said. "I have my sister."

  The Bad Man's head shifted to the other shoulder. "Now just where is my darling Lucy? It has been far too long since we last played."

  A small spot of green light flashed into existence next to the Bad Man. It was no larger than a coin, but was pulsing, growing with each beat.

  Wyatt stepped forward. "We're remembering."

  The Bad Man seemed to flinch, its twisted form shifting abruptly. "Lucy?" the Bad Man called out. "What have I told you about playing without me?"

  "She's not listening to you," Wyatt said, taking another step toward the shade. "We're done listening to your lies."

  The Bad Man lunged at Wyatt, gliding up to him and curling a smoky fist around his neck. The creature lifted Wyatt from the ground, but Wyatt only smiled. The Bad Man shook him.

  "The things I can show you," the Bad Man said. "You worthless failure."

  "I said...we're done listening to you," Wyatt choked out.

  "Again with the we," the Bad Man hissed. "You're alone, Wyatt. You've always been alone and you'll always be—"

  "He is not alone," said a voice.

  The Bad Man dropped Wyatt and spun back toward the place it had just vacated. The spot of green pulsed, shimmered, and blossomed into a young girl with messy blonde hair. Blood still seeped from Lucy's shoulder, and she looked one careless step from death, but the girl's eyes glowed with the same intensity of the amulet swinging from her neck.

  "Lucy," the Bad Man said.

  Lucy stepped forward. Wyatt did the same, forcing the Bad Man closer to her, pinning it between them. The Bad Man shifted back and forth, no longer smiling, no longer threatening.

  "I'm ready," Lucy said.

  Wyatt took one last look at Athena, Maia, and Ms. Abagail. He glanced at the Lord Regent and Rozen. Save Athena, all watched with wide eyes as Wyatt reached his hand through the Bad Man, ignoring the cold. Lucy grabbed Wyatt's hand, sending warm shockwaves through his body. The Bad Man shrieked, but didn't flee.

  "I'm ready, too," Wyatt said. "It's time to remember."

  The world shifted, shattered, and fell away as Lucy's amulet exploded into green light, banishing the veil of regret and shame. Gone was the fear and the bitter denial. As Lucy pulled Wyatt along with her into their memories, everything else was burned away, leaving just one thing.

  Truth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  THE SUN HAD set while Wyatt and Lucy sat side by side on the sidewalk outside of M and G Toys. Their parents stood among a throng of other adults, police officers, detectives, and paramedics. The scene had remained the same for hours.

  "Can we go yet?" Wyatt shouted. No one answered.

  "Mommy said to be patient," Lucy said.

  "This is your fault, you know?" Wyatt asked, staring at the stuffed bear in Lucy's arms with an unnatural hatred.

  "Is not," Lucy retorted. "Bearsy says it was your fault. He saw you hurt that girl."

  Wyatt grabbed the bear and struggled to pull it from Lucy's grasp. She shrieked.

  "Wyatt!" his father shouted, running over to him.

  Wyatt let go of the bear and scowled at his father. "Lucy's being dumb."

  His father crouched in front of them. "You two have been doing pretty good so far, with all this craziness. Don't go losing it now."

  "When are we going?" Wyatt demanded.

  "Soon," his father said.

  "But when?"

  "He said soon," Lucy quipped. "That means soon."

  "Don't start," their father said sternly.

  "Aren't you done talking with all those people yet?" Wyatt asked, trying not to yell.

  "We're just trying to help," he said, then, pointing at the crowd, added, "You see that older woman? Her granddaughter is missing."

  "The one Wyatt hit with the door?" Lucy asked.

  Their father scowled, but continued, "She's not much older than Wyatt, so your mother and I are trying to do everything we can to help find her. If either of you were missing, I'd hope other parents would do the same."

  "Can we go to the comic book store yet?" Wyatt asked.

  Wyatt's father sighed. "We'll leave in just a bit. Promise." He stood and went back to the other adults.

  "Wyatt?" Lucy asked.

  He looked at her.

  "If I was missing like that girl, would you help find me?" she asked.

  "What do you think?" he asked sharply.

  Lucy looked down at her stuffed bear and straightened its bow tie. "I think you would look everywhere for me until you found me."

  Wyatt grunted.

  "Right?"

  "I need to get a new comic book," he said, looking out over the parking lot. The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the Wizard was rolled up and clutched in his hand, looking worse for wear.

  "Oh," Lucy said glumly. "Okay. Well, if I'm missing, I'll find you instead."

  Several minutes passed before Wyatt's parents finished talking and the family piled into their minivan. Wyatt sprinted for the front seat, leaving Lucy and their mother to take the back seats.

  A moonless night revealed itself as the minivan pulled out of the shopping plaza. Wyatt watched in the side mirror as the flashing lights and business of the plaza quickly faded. He smiled and settled into his seat. It would be a long journey home, he knew, but it would be worth it when they stopped at the big comic book store on the way.

  "You all right to drive, Harold?" Wyatt's mother asked from the backseat. "Maybe we should think about stopping somewhere for the night."

  "I'll be fine," he answered. "I couldn't fall asleep if I tried right now. Not after today."

  Wyatt's mother sighed. "Not the best way to end a vacation, is it? I feel so bad for that lady, having her granddaughter taken from such a public place. I feel like we could have done something more."

  "We did all we could," he answered. "And that poor girl who worked at
the toy store..."

  "Abby," Wyatt's mother added. "I've never seen anyone upset like that. She was terrified to go home. I can't imagine feeling that way. I can't wait to get home."

  Wyatt's parents continued to talk, but their voices slowly receded into darkness as Wyatt drifted off into sleep despite his best intentions not to.

  When Wyatt woke, they were still driving, and it was still night. He stretched, yawned, and attempted to determine their location as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  "Morning, sleepyhead," his mother said with a yawn.

  "Are we almost there?" Wyatt asked.

  "We'll be home in about an hour and a half," his father answered.

  "Home? No, I meant the comic book store. Are we almost there?" His eyes continued to scan passing street signs and buildings.

  "Honey..." his mother began saying.

  "Hey!" Wyatt shouted excitedly. He jabbed a finger straight ahead. "We are almost there. It's coming up soon."

  They were just entering a commercial stretch of Route 12. Wyatt recognized it, having been thinking of it all day. They always passed by it on trips to and from his grandmother's home. Just a few more minutes and he'd be able to see the comic book store, and then a few more minutes and he could be looking for a new comic.

  "We're going home," Lucy said.

  Wyatt twisted around in his seat to glare at his sister. "No. We're going to the comic book store. Mom, tell her."

  "Wyatt," his mother said. "It's nearly midnight. We're all tired, and the comic book store won't be open this late, anyway."

  "What?" Wyatt asked. He heard the words, but they didn't make sense. They had to go to the comic book store.

  "We're not going to the dumb book store," Lucy sang with her stuffed bear in front of her face as if the bear was taunting him.

  "We're going to the comic book store," Wyatt insisted. "We're almost there."

  "Not tonight, Wy," his mother said.

  "Another time," his father added.

  Lucy giggled.

  "Stop laughing!" Wyatt shouted. "It's not fair. We went to the toy store for dumb Lucy, so now I get to go to the comic book store. You said."

  "I know," his mother said. "But things change. If all that—"

  "We're almost there," Wyatt interrupted, turning back to face the upcoming shopping center. "Dad, slow down, you're going to miss it."

  "Wyatt!" his father said. "We're not going to the comic book store."

  Wyatt stared incredulously at his father. Why is he yelling at me? "We had a deal," Wyatt said.

  "We're not going, we're not going," Lucy continued to sing from the backseat, ignoring the cues from her mother to stop.

  "Shut up!" Wyatt said.

  Lucy thrust her stuffed bear in between the front seats. "Bearsy says, 'you shut up.'"

  Wyatt lunged backward and grabbed the bear. Lucy shrieked and pulled back. Wyatt twisted, wedging his body in between the front seats.

  "Let go!" Lucy screamed.

  "Wyatt, get back in your seat," his father said, pushing at him. "And get your seatbelt on."

  "Both of you, knock it off!" Wyatt's mother yelled.

  But Wyatt continued to pull at the toy, desperate to destroy the stupid thing that had ruined his day. If Lucy hadn't wanted a stuffed bear, they wouldn't have stopped at the toy store, and if they hadn't stopped at the toy store—

  The arm Lucy was pulling on ripped off from the rest of the bear's body. The sudden change caused Wyatt to lurch back toward the front of the vehicle. He flailed wildly and caught his father in the side of the head with his elbow before landing against the steering wheel.

  The minivan lurched to the side as Wyatt's father fought to push Wyatt aside. Lucy screamed.

  And then everything was upside down. And warm. No, not warm. Hot. Burning hot.

  Nothing Wyatt saw made sense. For a moment, he thought he had fallen asleep again because he was dizzy and disoriented. He tried to move, but pain exploded from his chest, feeling like someone had a hold of his heart and was squeezing every time he thought to move. He blinked against heat and smoke, even that tiny movement bringing pain, and doing nothing to clear his blurred vision. He coughed, gagging on smoke and the pungent scent of gasoline mixed with what smelled like the pine-scented cleaner his grandmother used.

  Am I back at Grandma's? he wondered.

  "Wyatt!" someone shouted, their voice disguised by the crackle of flames and someone else coughing.

  Wyatt didn't dare move his body, but he turned his head toward the voice, just enough that he thought he could see something moving nearby. He blinked, grimaced at the pain, and blinked again. Sweat ran into his eyes and, coupled with the smoke that seemed to be everywhere, made them burn.

  He heard crying that brought a minute amount of focus. "Lucy?" he tried to say.

  The crying turned to hysterical wailing and the high-pitched shrieks of a ghoul. It had to be Lucy. No one else Wyatt knew could scream like that, though he seldom heard her that agitated. Something grabbed at his hands—another hand. Wyatt flexed his fingers, recognizing his mother's touch.

  A new smell invaded his nostrils along with the growing heat, making him gag and choke on the air. He blinked several more times, and the image of his mother's face came into focus. Along with it came the hungry orange tongues of the fire that licked at the family minivan and twisted pieces of metal that fashioned a crude tomb for him and his family.

  "Mom?" Wyatt asked. "What—"

  "Shhh," his mother said. "Don't talk, baby. Just listen to my voice and follow what I say."

  Wyatt nodded and pain seized his chest again, another squeeze on his heart and twist of his ribs. He saw now that his mother was lying outside the minivan, her head sticking in through a broken window, holding his hand and trying to smile at him. Blood coated her face, making her look like a monster, but her voice was as Wyatt knew it to be.

  "I'm going to pull you, okay, Wy?" she said, reaching her other hand through the window and grabbing his shoulder.

  It was growing hotter, drying the sweat on Wyatt's face and making it difficult to breathe. The flames danced in his periphery, creating twisted shadows that danced a crude jig across the interior of the vehicle. His fingers tightened on his mother's, trying to gain hold through the slickness of blood.

  His body surged toward the window and the burst of pain blinded him. He screamed, gagged, and vomited. Something pressed against his forehead—a hand, perhaps.

  "You're doing great, Wy," his mother's voice said, sounding like a whisper. Sounding like a dream.

  Wyatt opened his eyes and squinted. He could still see the burning minivan, but was a few feet from it now, lying atop a bed of sticky pine needles. But the pain had followed him and he still couldn't move on his own.

  His mother's face appeared over him, staring down. Blood, darkened to be nearly black in the shadows, dripped onto Wyatt's cheeks. Each drop sent sparks along his face and neck. Another tortuous squeeze of his heart.

  "We need to keep moving," his mother said. "Lucy?"

  Wyatt's mother turned away, revealing the side and back of her head. Wyatt stared at it, squinting against the pain and weariness, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  "Your head," Wyatt said, his voice rattling out and bending his ribs with new fervor.

  "I'm okay," she said. "Keep going."

  But she wasn't okay. Wyatt could see that now. The amount of blood should have told him that, but it was such a mess that it only confused him. But his mother seemed to be missing part of the back of her head. And he knew that wasn't right.

  "I can't," Wyatt said. He was seeing double and couldn't discern where the ground was. The only thing that kept him centered was his mother's voice.

  "Lucy," Wyatt's mother said. She coughed and fell to a knee. "Help your brother..." She lifted a shaking hand and pointed. "See that light? Go to it and..."

  Wyatt turned and saw a pinprick of golden light. But it looked so far away and wasn't nea
rly as bright as the fire that steadily grew behind him.

  "Mommy?" Lucy asked, her voice high, almost indecipherable.

  "The light," she said, falling onto her hands. She lifted her head to look at Wyatt and Lucy. Wyatt could see it was difficult for her.

  Wyatt reached for her, missed, and fell to the ground. The thick carpet of pine needles was soft and welcoming. The pain was slowly fading, but it was growing increasingly difficult to think. He was so tired...

  "Go," his mother pleaded. "Follow...the light. Lucy, Wyatt..."

  Wyatt felt hands pull at his shoulder. Small hands. Lucy's. With his mother's voice in his mind, Wyatt struggled to climb to his knees. The edges of his vision was shadow-plagued, the center seared with the image of flames and his mother's blood-drenched face.

  Wyatt pulled weakly at Lucy and managed to get a foot beneath him. He looked at his mother. She was lying on her side now, looking up at them. Smiling.

  Lucy pulled at him, but he resisted. He wasn't ready to go yet. "Mom," he said. "I'm sorry for eating three cookies without permission."

  His mother rolled onto an elbow and stretched out a hand to rest on his leg. "It's not your fault, Wy."

  Wyatt's stomach tossed, and he thought his heart stopped beating. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Can you tell Dad that I'm sorry?"

  "I will," she said, each word coming softer and slower than the rest. "I love both of you. Forever and ever...and ever."

  "I love you, Mommy," Lucy said. "And I love Daddy."

  Wyatt opened his mouth but found the words unable to get past his tongue. So he nodded instead, hoping it conveyed what he couldn't say.

  His mother smiled. "Stay together," she said. "No matter what happens, watch out for each other. Stay...together...promise."

  Wyatt nodded again, the feeling in his stomach intensifying. He was certain now that his heart had stopped, but what did that matter?

  "Promise," Lucy said.

  "Go," their mother said as she slumped back onto the ground. "The light..."

  Wyatt wanted to scream, though the reason still eluded him. He wanted to collapse and sleep forever, but the echo of his mother's voice in his head wouldn't let him.