Resurrection

by Michael Clements

  “Marked?”

  “It means she told people to kill him, Ethan,” explained Eva.

  Phoebe nodded. “Since your mother knew me well, Bryan thought she could talk to me, so that I could get Carrie’s men to call off the hunt. Your mother refused…”

  Ethan’s chest burned, his heart pounded, and his hands clenched into hard fists. “He deserves to die.”

  Eva and Phoebe looked at him; Eva with surprise, and Phoebe with disappointment. “Never wish that on anybody, Ethan,” said the woman. “That kind of thinking will get you killed someday. All lives have value.”

  “She’s right,” said Eva. Then, she asked, “But, what if someone’s trying to hurt you or your family?”

  “Sometimes, it’s necessary. Some things in life are ugly. They should never be desired or enjoyed, though. All life has value.”

  THEIA

  Cleaning, disposing, feeding, and tolerating the pigs’ squealing as usual, Theia worked alone that day. She had requested to. Only when she insisted did the adults agree. Other kids weren’t allowed to help her, and she heard adults suggest nobody talk to her. It was what she wanted, but she wished, at least, that they wouldn’t have complied so easily. People want to ignore me? she thought. I may as well be a criminal.

  However, her spirit uplifted at lunch time. Having intended to remain with the swine, Theia didn’t go with the others; nor did Sophie…

  “Hey,” greeted the black-haired girl. Her outfit matched her hair as well.

  Theia didn’t know what to say. Everything coming to mind would have been rude, so she decided not to speak.

  “You know, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings yesterday. Really! I’m just very… I just don’t like talking to people.”

  “Good to know,” said Theia. Ignore her so that you don’t say anything you’ll regret, she instructed herself.

  Following an awkward silence, Sophie asked, “You don’t believe me?”

  Theia shrugged, then forcefully lifted a bucket of slop.

  “If you don’t believe me, you can ask anyone. Really, I’m not a liar.”

  Theia carefully set down the bucket, but sighed deeply to signal she’s irritated. “Okay!” she yelled, locking eyes with Sophie. “You didn’t mean to offend me. I get it. You can go back to ignoring me like everyone else. I have to take care of these pigs before another one dies.”

  It was only a few steps to the coop that she was going to dump the food into. Sophie followed with reluctance in every step. After Theia poured the bucket and the pigs came to their food, Sophie started saying, “Do you know what it’s like, not being able to trust people? I’m not antisocial because I’m selfish or I’m trying to hurt people’s feelings.” Theia said nothing, walking back to gather more food. “Will you please listen?”

  Freezing mid-step, Theia dropped the bucket and answered, “Fine.”

  “Girls talk about me behind my back, and all boys want is… Well, everyone knows what boys want.”

  Theia mockingly smiled, saying, “That’s not why you have problems.”

  Sophie paused. “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it’s not. Trust me; I have the same problem trusting people. It takes a lot more than typical kids’ stuff to make someone be like me. Why do you think I’m alone?”

  “I thought it was because I hurt your feelings.”

  She had to be honest. “Well, you did, but so does everybody.”

  Another moment of silence indicated to Theia that Sophie had nothing to reply with, so she lifted the bucket again. Some of the chunky slime spilled onto her pants, which was more humiliating than knowing how immaturely she was behaving. Pretending she didn’t notice it, she proceeded the rest of the way to the bin, filled the bucket, and headed back toward the animals. Sophie hadn’t moved, and was now just watching. Peculiar, but a bit flattering.

  “You’re different,” said Sophie, finally.

  It stopped Theia in her tracks. “What does that mean?” she asked, turning.

  As if not hearing the question, Sophie then asked, “Have you ever been hurt by your family?”

  Theia nodded. “You have no idea.”

  Sophie looked at her feet. “How?”

  Theia poured the slop into the next coop, then gently set the bucket outside the fence. “My mom,” she said, uneasy. “She was kind of a piece of shit. Hated me for no reason. Cheated on my dad, always screamed at me over nothing. Hit me one time, too.”

  “What about your dad?”

  Theia’s tense muscles relaxed some. “He was always nice to me.”

  “He was a good dad?” After Theia nodded, Sophie asked, “Did he just let your mom abuse you like that?”

  “They got separated when I was, like, four, I think. I visited my mom sometimes, and that’s when she screamed at me and stuff.” Strange, referring to the way her mother treated her as abuse. In hindsight, that’s what it plainly, obviously, and irrefutably had been. Knowing that that word was applicable made the memories of her mother’s hostility less impactful; less like she deserved it and more like her mother was a horrible person instead. “Why?” asked Theia.

  “Huh?”

  “Why? Like, why are you asking? Because your parents hurt you?”

  Sophie curled her fingers. “What happened to your parents?” she asked, seeming absentminded.

  “My mom died last year.”

  Sophie stared at Theia a moment, whose eyes were half-closed as if dozing off. “…And your dad?”

  “I don’t know,” Theia answered before thinking about it. “He’s around, just… Can’t explain it. It’s complicated.” Theia peered toward the mess hall, seeing all the other kids pouring out, then toward the parking lot, the only remaining private location that wasn’t outside the premises. “You want to talk?” she asked, hoping that Sophie was interested in conversing more.

  “Sure,” said Sophie, sounding apathetic.

  Not the enthusiasm she had hoped for, but, At least she’ll keep talking to me, thought Theia. Pointing to the parking lot, she said, “Let’s talk over there.”

  They found two large trucks to sit between, which were obscured them from view well, and were easy to lean against. “So, what about you? Jeremy hurt you a lot? Is that why you don’t really talk to people?”

  Sophie shook her head. “Not really… It was … our dad, mostly. Mom left him for someone else a long time ago. He kept bringing women to the house. Like, I’d come home from school and I’d hear them in his bedroom. You know? So, when the war happened and people started to riot and loot and they attacked each other and stuff … like most smart people did, we hid in our basement.”

  Just like that, Sophie finished speaking. No way that’s the entire story, thought Theia. “…Well, what happened after that? Did your dad hit you if you were too loud or something?”

  “Jesus, Theia… How nice is your dad? You really don’t understand how horrible fathers can be sometimes. No, not sometimes, a lot of the time. Fathers can be just as horrible as your mom was to you… Or worse.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. So, what happened when you were hiding in the basement?”

  Sophie stared dead ahead, her eyes motionless but tears started to leak from them. “We were down there a long time. Weeks. Only came up to … you know. And even that was risky. We barely even had anything to eat. We… sniff… We never really got along before, and it was just worse down there. Sniff. Living in a basement didn’t help anything. Everything was driving us crazier and crazier every day. No food, no company, no way to kill boredom… Dad didn’t have any beer to get drunk with. He was always crazy when he was drunk, but he didn’t need alcohol to be totally insane.

  “Jeremy… Sniff, sniff. Jeremy tried to talk to Dad. Tried to … come up with ideas for finding food, making food, or just, you know, killing time or something. Dad didn’t care. ‘He knew best,’ right? After like two weeks, he started yelling at both of us whenever we just opened our mouths. And, after three weeks, he started to get v
ery, very lonely.” She looked toward Theia. “In the bad way.”

  Chills came over Theia. Of the hundreds of thoughts circulating through her head, she primarily wondered, Why is Sophie telling me this story?

  “One night…” As Sophie tried to continue speaking, she clenched every part of her body. “One night, I woke up because Dad was screaming at Jeremy. He was telling him to pull me out. Meaning, get me out of my sleeping bag. Jeremy listened. He obeyed… He ripped me out of my sleeping bag and threw me on Dad’s mattress. Pinned my wrists above my head with his whole body weight. Dad started to…” Her words were then indecipherable.

  Theia felt she wanted to cry, too. “He raped you,” she said for her.

  Sophie wiped tears away for over a minute.

  “So many times. Sometimes it was twice in the same night. Jeremy didn’t even need to help him anymore after like the third time, ‘cuz I just stopped resisting. Who knows what diseases I caught after all the whores Dad was with… I was scared of getting pregnant.”

  Theia had to stop this. “Sophie…” she said, extending a comforting hand. “Don’t tell me this stuff. At least, not right now. We barely know each other, and this is very serious. It’s very painful for you.”

  “Theia… I just want you to understand. I want you to understand why I said what I said. Why I don’t trust people. Why I stay away from people. If my family can do that to me, what kinds of things could friends do, you know?”

  “If you don’t trust anyone, why did you tell me this stuff?” Theia felt a little rude stating it that way.

  Sophie finally looked Theia in the eyes. “I owed you. I hurt your feelings, and you were just… You were nice to me. I didn’t want you to think I hate you or something. I had fun running around with you.”

  Theia leaned forward, hugging her friend tight like they had been close for years. Sophie didn’t cry long – only a minute or two – but had been long enough for Theia to theorize: Maybe she just needed to tell somebody for once…

  Sophie wiped away the last of her tears. Theia put her arm across Sophie’s shoulders as they walked back toward the farm. No part of her cared if the other kids saw them not working, except only that they didn’t see Sophie crying, so she tried to walk slow.

  Just as Theia looked out toward their work area, a deafening gunshot sounded nearby. Her head virtually moved itself, reflexively turning in the direction from where it came. The source seemed to be a few dozen feet behind them. Perimeter troops were kneeled over, examining a body that had dropped. First that came to mind was checking Sophie, who she saw was unharmed and emotionally intact. Then, she looked out toward the fence again, watching as the troops prepared their weapons, aiming them at the distant trees. One fired, then most of the others followed.

  Theia and Sophie quickly ran back toward the barn, where the other kids were headed as well. The feeling was all too familiar, like recognizing a smell without seeing its source. Despite the protective perimeter fence, she felt vulnerable. Despite the armed guards between her and the threat, she felt all the gunfire was aimed directly upon her, and only her. Her flight response pushed her to flee at twice Sophie’s pace, ultimately making her absentmindedly leave her friend behind. Only when she was a few steps from the doors to the office building did she realize Sophie was not with her. Before she could run out to Sophie, the woman at the doors seized her and demanded she get inside immediately. “What’s going on?” she cried, then cried again.

  Once Sophie made it inside, personnel locked the doors. A couple of men hastily escorted them toward the cafeteria, then shut those doors behind them, too.

  Theia trembled violently. She needed to consciously remind herself that she was surrounded by safe company, that she was supposed to flee from the gunshots, and was not being forced to run toward them. “What’s happening?” she asked Sophie. Her friend didn’t seem to hear her, because she, like all the others, were listening to what was transpiring outside. Her heart felt as though it were attempting to burst free from her chest. Her entire head ached, like her brain was swelling inside her skull. She kept her focus on the doors and windows – the only points of possible entry. Her hands were clenched tightly and raised in defense. In her peripheral she saw one of the armed guards in the room, and partially contemplated how to steal their rifle. She couldn’t trust anyone else to protect her.

  Several minutes passed. Theia noticed Sophie had gathered with the other kids, roughly in the center of the room. There was no reaching her now. Theia decidedly ran toward the guards by the doors.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Go stand with the others,” one of them said, trying to push her back.

  “No! Tell me what’s going on! I have a right to know.”

  Again they insisted, and again Theia resisted. Finally, a guard told her, “We’re under attack.”

  “I fucking know that!” She was grinding her teeth. “Why are people attacking us?”

  “Because we have food.” That was all the response she’d receive, apparently.

  Theia stomped away, searching for another adult among the crowd of kids. The woman who had waved her and Sophie inside earlier was still among them, giving it her best to comfort the younger kids. That was who Theia approached, repeating her question, hoping for a better explanation. Twice, she had to ask in order to clarify what she wanted to know, but she got her answer finally.

  The woman was patient and kind. Calmly, she explained, “Well, for over a year, people have been running away from Portland and the bigger towns, like Beaverton and Salem. They’ve been forming their own little communities and societies in the farmlands and forests.”

  When it seemed that was all the woman had to say, Theia asked, “So, why are they attacking us?”

  “Because some people still haven’t figured out how to farm their own food yet. Raiding and stealing is all they know.”

  A disturbing realization dawned on her. “This happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Theia returned to Sophie, who was seated against a wall, shaking and silent. She wrapped her arms around her friend, and in doing so, felt comfort in return. Still, she couldn’t cope with the situation. She struggled coping with noise, regardless of the source; a crippling disability she was inflicted with since surviving the massacre at Tabitha’s home, and everything that occurred with Marcus Solomon’s clan. Each and every loud noise triggered her flight instinct. However, as she sat there with Sophie, providing another with calm reassurance, she in turn received that herself.

  Outside, the battle wasn’t dying down, though. In fact, it seemed to be drawing closer every second. Theia kept her eyes fixed on the adults in the room – the only ones with any kind of understanding of the situation. If they were calm, it helped her be as well. Except, they increasingly panicked too. Theia’s heart rate doubled when five of the guards – totaling half – abruptly fled the room, and the elderly woman with them. Was it getting so serious that even those protecting the defenseless needed to get involved? How many people are attacking us? Are they trying to kill us or just take the food?

  Theia stumbled over Sophie, unintentionally. Her legs wobbled as she attempted to stand, needing to push off the ground with her hands to balance. Dizziness started taking effect.

  “Fight… Back… Fi…bah-back.”

  When she dragged herself to the doors, one of the guards pushed her back. He might have asked if she’s okay, or something, but she didn’t hear clearly. No matter how hard she pushed, he wouldn’t allow her to leave. So, she sprinted to the windows.

  Then she saw a small beacon of light: a small rifle lying on the ground about a dozen feet out the window… No one else was quelling the situation. She couldn’t just sit by and let everybody get hurt…

  Many screamed for her to come back; she even partially heard someone attempting to climb through the window to run after her, but she was far beyond reach by the time it would have done any good. When she reached the
gun, she saw that it was lying beside a man’s corpse. His face had been turned to mush, blasted from the front through the back of his head. Theia’s heart skipped a beat. For several seconds, she couldn’t move nor look away.

  Up ahead, no one standing guard at the fence; instead, armed men dressed in camouflage and black war paint were climbing over, headed straight in her direction. Still, she couldn’t move. MOVE! she commanded herself, but her body didn’t obey. Those at the fence a hundred feet away were dropping over, their weapons at the ready.

  “They got a kid!” she heard someone shout. Following that, more feet dropped to the ground from the top of the fence.

  “A kid?”

  Theia’s eyes were abruptly covered by a hand, then someone carried her away forcefully. She struggled and struggled, until finally realizing who it was merely by their scent: Mercy.

  Another distant voice said, “We’ve heard of the stories. Don’t let them use kids as shields. We have a mission!”

  Theia panicked. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! she screamed at herself. Why’d I come out here?

  When Mercy released her, Theia saw she was in a small tool shed. “Theia, what were you thinking? My god!”

  “I don’t know! I’m sorry!”

  Bullets shot through the walls protecting them. Mercy tackled Theia, then remained on top of her. Theia tried to control herself, but couldn’t cease squirming and flailing in sheer panic. Tears obscured her sight, but she did not scream. It didn’t matter that Mercy’s body weight lessened her breathing ability; even in her terror, she knew she was being shielded.

  For only a moment, the gunshots ceased, and Mercy slowly pushed herself up. Theia gathered her breath, rising quickly. She turned around and asked, “You okay?” Just then, she saw blood on Mercy’s side. She gasped. “You got shot!” She looked at Mercy’s back and saw an additional two bullet wounds in her back, close to her spine. “I’ll get the medic!”