Resurrection

by Michael Clements

  “THE TRUTH!” Ethan had never shouted so loud in his life.

  Bryan smiled bright, staring at Lilith, who returned the gesture with a bored sigh. “I like kids,” said Bryan. “You remember, right sis? It’s simple, okay? I fucked the wrong kid and got caught.”

  “Whose kid?” asked Ethan. Lilith likely didn’t care to participate in the dialogue.

  “Boss Marsden. Her niece.”

  This man clearly wasn’t a complicated man. The rest of the story seemed obvious. “Mom was friends with Phoebe. You wanted her to talk to Phoebe to persuade Carrie Marsden to call off the hunt?”

  “If Mary did what she was told, she’d still be alive. Family looks out for each other.”

  “She was never your family.”

  Bryan was slowly walking backward, reaching for something. “She took care of me. We were never apart, until you two popped out. Dad would have stayed if it weren’t for you two. They wouldn’t have put me in fucking foster care neither. Mary still visited me. She still cared. She only stopped seeing me because I kept getting in trouble. But it wasn’t my fault. I was a good kid. I never …”

  With every word, Ethan cared less about what he had to say. Bryan was now reaching for something hidden behind a cannabis plant on a dresser. “Drop it,” warned Ethan, aiming his gun at Bryan’s head. Reluctantly, but surely, Bryan raised an empty hand and did not make a move.

  “You have to believe me, little brother,” said Bryan. It was as if he was trying to talk like Lilith. “I had to kill her. She would have talked. She wasn’t gonna help me.”

  A wide range of inaccuracies flooded that statement. It was staggering how Bryan could say that and not know how absurd it was. “Shut up,” he growled.

  “I have a problem, Ethan. It’s not my fault. I didn’t ask to be like this. What would you expect me to do? I have urges, man. I have urges. I can’t help it. Eva understands. She was there. She knows I didn’t like it. She knows…”

  Lilith laughed. “Oh, but you did enjoy it, Bryan.” She didn’t have any pain in her voice. She truly didn’t care anymore, if she ever had. “Just drop him, Ethan.”

  Scowling, clenching his fist, and breathing loudly, Ethan stepped toward Bryan. The man didn’t move, but didn’t look afraid. When Ethan was mere inches from him, he said, “You get one swing for free…”

  “Are you that confident in yourself?” They stared at one another. “I don’t want to hurt you, little brother.”

  “You can’t hurt me anymore.” Ethan soaked in the fact he was slightly taller, but far more massive than Bryan. Years spent perfecting his combat ability amounted to this moment, and it made his size advantage unnecessary, but appreciated nonetheless. “You’re at my mercy now, Bryan. Now, make your move.”

  “Ethan, please…”

  Drained of patience, Ethan kneed Bryan hard, causing the man to cringe as he dropped. “Maybe you need some motivation,” he said. He proceeded slap Bryan repeatedly across the face, intended to annoy him more than pain him.

  “Stop!” said Bryan. Ethan resumed relentlessly slapping him. “STOP!”

  “Do something, Bryan. Do something.”

  With a loud scream, Bryan caught Ethan’s right wrist and tried to pull him down. But Ethan twisted his arm free, then kicked Bryan in the nose. While Bryan staggered for a moment, Ethan turned around, looking toward the fire place. “Look what we have here,” he said in a higher pitch. “Our old friend, the rod.” Taking the fire iron from its holster, Ethan tossed it to Bryan, who fumbled it, but gripped it firmly from the floor. “Please, big brother, I’m literally begging you to use that on me.”

  Bryan wasn’t holding back any longer. He charged at Ethan with utter rage, the iron raised high. When it swung down, Ethan caught it with his right hand, but suffered a portion of its momentum, not expecting it would still damage him. He ignored the pain enough to grip it tight then kick Bryan in the knee. Bryan lost his grip on the weapon. Ethan then proceeded to strike Bryan across his face, breaking his jaw, ejecting blood and saliva all over the floor.

  Bryan was completely defeated, but not dead. The man made no effort to fight back any longer. This was when Ethan realized he received no satisfaction from it. In fact, part of him felt wounded, emotionally.

  “Just gonna leave him like that?” asked Lilith, stepping up beside Ethan.

  At a complete loss for words, Ethan just stared at his good work. He didn’t feel himself. Something had taken him over, and fled once crime was committed. “Let’s go.” He turned around, headed directly for the door.

  “No,” commanded Lilith. “This ends tonight.”

  “It’s ended, sis,” replied Ethan as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

  “Why did you even come here, Ethan? You had a chance for revenge before tonight, and you didn’t take it. So, why did you change your mind tonight? This is about more than just revenge.”

  Kayla… My son… “I understand, Lily. But I can’t. This isn’t me.”

  Lilith turned around, shooting a look at Ethan that expressed amazement. “Not you? Don’t make me laugh, Ethan. This has been you since the night this creep killed our mother. It’s what you’ve wanted more than anything; you just never admitted it to anyone, including yourself. And then,” she chuckled again, “your obsession with protecting me, protecting Kayla, protecting everyone… This is all you are. This is all you’ll ever be. You died nine years ago. And there’s no coming back from the dead.”

  He hated when she made good points; absolutely loathed it. She always had a way with words; words that sunk into his mind and reset all the controls. Ethan let go of the doorknob and returned to the writhing victim on the floor in front of Lilith. Looking at Bryan, crying and curled on the floor, virtually drowning in his fluids, Ethan actually started to pity him.

  “If you love Kayla, and if you love your child, protect them. That’s why you changed your mind. Don’t go back now.”

  “Then,” said Ethan, plainly. “You kill him. I’m not a killer.”

  “I’d be honored, but this is not my lesson to learn.” She took her pistol from the holster, handing it to him. “If you’re so squeamish, then make it quick.”

  Ethan glared at her. “Squeamish?” he said. And without paying any attention to the gun, he drew his knife, knelt down, then rolled Bryan onto his back. Bryan continued to cry, begging to be spared with the most coherent words he could muster. Without so much as a look into Bryan’s eyes, Ethan stabbed him in the stomach, then proceeded to carve until there was a gaping hole where the belly once was. Then he rolled Bryan over, allowing the loose innards to spill out. Bryan’s screams amplified for a moment, but before long, he became utterly silent.

  Ethan stumbled away, toward the door once again, slamming it behind him when he left. He shouted for Shane and the others, the signal for them to dispose of the mess. As they exited the car and rushed inside, Ethan crawled off the patio, vomited, then laid down, motionless.

  THEIA

  “She killed Mercy! We have to go back!” she screamed.

  Ethan was fleeing from the site. Theia could neither stay nor follow him. He said nothing, as if he didn’t hear her plea, as he continued to stumble aimlessly between the trees and foliage.

  “DAD!”

  Still, nothing.

  “Fine, I’m going back.”

  When she turned around, Ethan went after her. He caught her arm. “Mercy’s gone,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “But we can’t just leave her there!”

  “If we go back, we both die!” Ethan virtually screamed.

  He’s right, she forced herself to admit. In spite of, the self-awareness, it wasn’t enough to stop her. Theia tried to shake off Ethan’s hand, but his grip was too firm. Then, she tried to bite it, and though her teeth broke skin, his hold remained. “LET GO!”

  Ethan kneeled, then grabbed both her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. “I understand why you want to go back; I really do. We ca
n bury her later, but right now, this area’s dangerous. There are people here who want us dead. We have to leave. It won’t do Mercy any good if we get killed, too. Okay, baby? Now, please, let’s go. We have to go.”

  Theia started to weep. Her body was tense, but she slowly calmed down. Ethan finally relinquished her arm, and the two continued to flee.

  It was impossible to know their location or direction, but she believed Ethan somehow had it figured. He hadn’t activated his flashlight until after several minutes of venturing deep into the woods. He was limping more than walking, and sporadically murmured to himself.

  Flashes of images of Mercy’s bleeding, lifeless body harassed Theia’s mind. The sound of the gunshot, and the last breath Mercy had breathed expelling from her lungs, repeated endlessly and relentlessly. She couldn’t force it out. Her emotions protested her logic. Leaving Mercy behind simply wasn’t possibly an option.

  Theia planted her feet again. Ethan turned. “Baby…” he said with an aching in his voice. “Please. We can’t stay.”

  “Then I’ll die,” said Theia. “I can’t leave Mercy behind like that.”

  Ethan looked at her with understanding and patience. He said nothing else, nor needed to. Theia could see in his eyes that he had given in. “We’ll wait here,” he said, plainly terrified.

  Theia pinned herself against a tree, concealing herself from the battle that continued a short distance behind them. Every second that passed, her fear grew. She looked to Ethan, who was leaning against another tree, examining his acquired machete. She hoped it was enough to protect them should anyone detect them. It looked in poor condition; hardly intact enough to be effective. Her fears would have multiplied, were it not for being distracted when she looked at Ethan’s face again.

  His eyes were red. When he noticed Theia looking at him, he lowered the machete, and there was hopelessness in his eyes. Does he think we’ll die? She couldn’t guess. He just stood idly, staring at her, appearing weaker than she had ever seen him.

  The two remained until there was nothing left to hear, and then they waited even longer. Theia was perfectly content with the extra time, for her own sake, but for Mercy’s sake she was growing impatient.

  Finally, Ethan pushed away from the tree and said, “Okay, let’s go back.”

  Neither carried a light source, but as Ethan led the way, Theia wasn’t surprised he could navigate in the dark. She kept her distance, but was confident in his skill and his strength. No chance could she locate Mercy’s body again, but there was no need to worry about it.

  Ethan’s pace slowed tremendously. “Looks like they took Lilith away,” he quietly said. Theia interpreted that as a sign they were nearing the body. She ran ahead of him, frantically searching still, and after a short moment, found Mercy. Blood covered Mercy’s face, virtually concealing her identity. But Theia knew all too well who it was. She knelt down and held Mercy’s hand, starting to weep.

  Tears poured from Theia’s eyes and the agony in her heart burst out, screaming. There was no holding back; she freely allowed herself to cry and writhe and cringe. She used her tears to clean the dried blood obscuring Mercy’s face, then she bent over, touching foreheads, wrapping her hands around the top of Mercy’s head. Mercy’s smell – her natural scent, the perfume she had applied earlier that day – filled Theia’s nostrils like water quenching a desperate thirst. Theia wanted to remember everything in as vivid detail as possible. Mercy’s smell, voice, eyes, everything. She just had to remember.

  “We… We don’t have shovels,” said Theia. She turned, starting to crawl away from the body while feeling the ground. “I’ll … use my … my hands,” she said, choking over her words. She crawled in circles, scouring the dirt like an insect in the hopes of finding a rock. Ethan knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder, but she smacked it away. “Don’t!” she yelled. “Find a rock. Find something!”

  When she located one that seemed large enough, she strained to pull it from the ground. With all her might, she pulled, caring nothing if it damaged her fingers. She dug into the dirt around it, then tried again, still to no avail. “Come on!” she screamed at it. “Come on, come on! Why won’t it come out?” She started angrily punching the rock, growling while she kept trying to dig around it.

  “Here, love,” said Ethan softly, holding a rock in front of her. She seized it from him, returned to Mercy, then started to dig the earth beside her. “Theia… Maybe we should rethink this.”

  “Shut up! You just want to leave her here!”

  “No, of course not,” he replied respectfully. “I just think we can find a better place for her to rest. Don’t you think?”

  Again, Theia admitted defeat to Ethan’s sound logic, though it angered her that he spoke at all. She didn’t want to hear his voice, nor anyone else’s. None except Mercy’s. I just want to hear her say something… Several minutes passed as Theia continued to dig with the rock, hardly making any progress. Only when her arms tired, and her breath labored did she pause and think twice.

  “Theia…?” said Ethan, touching her shoulder a second time.

  Reluctantly, Theia nodded.

  He stood. “Stay close to Mercy, but hide.” He handed her the machete. “I’m going to find the car.”

  She did as she was told, hiding beside a tree once Ethan walked away. Every moment of his absence, she stared at Mercy. Soon, the sight became too much. The flood of grief and anger consumed her mind and body. She had to avert her eyes, before it felt like her heart was about to shut down…

  Later – an unknown length of time later – Ethan finally returned. He could have taken only a few minutes, or over an hour, and it felt all the same to Theia. When he returned, he softly asked her, “Ready?” She was satisfied that Mercy would receive proper help. “I’ll need help carrying her, though,” added Ethan, a vulnerable tone in his voice. He sounded as if he was worried she wouldn’t help him, or simply scream at him again.

  Ethan lifted Mercy’s torso while Theia lifted her legs. The road was many yards away, and they required several rest stops as they carried the body down the tall hill. Finally, when their feet were stepping on asphalt, Ethan slowly set the body down, and Theia followed. He opened the door to the driver’s seat, took keys from the ignition, then proceeded to open the back hatch.

  “Was anyone in the car?”

  Ethan paused. After a long silence, he said, “No, honey, it was as we left it.” He paused again, looking at her. A moment later, Theia finally accepted his answer, then reached down for the legs again. They lifted Mercy into the trunk carefully. “Don’t close it,” said Ethan. “I…” He caught his breath for a moment. “I don’t want to … transport her like baggage.”

  “Why not just put her in the back seat?”

  Very reluctantly, Ethan replied, “…The smell. She can lay in the trunk, but I want her to breathe.”

  Theia understood his meaning, and nodded. “Okay.”

  Ethan stared at her, then reached toward her in a hugging gesture, but Theia walked away swiftly. She got in the back seat, slamming the door shut. Ethan limped to the driver seat, shutting his door so slowly Theia felt it didn’t fully close. When he turned the ignition, the engine activated seamlessly, the gauges and labels lit up, and Theia saw that the car was nearing empty. “We’ll find somewhere that has shovels first,” said Ethan. “That’s our first priority.” As he started to drive, he had to avoid running into other abandoned vehicles. Theia prayed there wouldn’t be any other bodies on the road. Once Ethan shifted into second gear and the car accelerated, she knew they were in the clear, safe, and on their way to the coast.

  –––––––

  They pulled into the first place with its own lighting: a house beside a berry farm. After a long stretch of a dirt driveway, Ethan parked the car in front of the house. “Stay low, and don’t let yourself be seen,” Ethan told Theia. She looked around and assessed the area herself, then obeyed his instruction.

  Ethan stepped out wi
th his empty hands raised high. After about minute, a man who looked only a few years older than Ethan stepped out of the house with a hunting rifle in hand. “What’ya want?”

  “I’m unarmed,” replied Ethan. “I just want a couple shovels.”

  The man paused. “Shovels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Apologies. Just being careful… Lost some loved ones?” Ethan didn’t reply. “Yeah, I think I can find some shovels for ya. Wait here. I trust you. And don’t make me regret trusting you, okay?”

  Doesn’t anybody bother him? thought Theia.

  “Does anyone disturb you?” asked Ethan.

  “No, we’ve been lucky,” said the man. “But there’s five of us in here anyways, so we’re not worried. Hey, you need any food?”

  Ethan was slow to reply. “Only if you have more than enough for yourself.”

  “That we do,” said the man. “I’ll be right back.”

  Some minutes later, Theia felt comfortable enough to raise her head, though she continued to see fear in Ethan’s eyes. Does he sense something? Or is he just always worried? Since he was the one outside, she had to trust his judgment above her own, so she stayed low. Finally, when the man reemerged, he had three shovels and freely handed them over.

  “Two is plenty,” said Ethan, returning one.

  “No problem. Oh! I forgot the food.”

  “It’s fine. Just the shovels, thank you. Will you want these back?”

  The man waved his hands. “We’re good. Take care.”

  Ethan nodded, then returned to the car, placing the shovels in the passenger seat. “Stay down,” he said as he backed up. “We’re not safe until we’re out.”

  He had a point, Theia realized undoubtedly, and it instilled more fear in her. However, once they were back on the road, she was not only relieved, but stunned. Expecting ambushes, assaults, and raids was more normal than expecting people to be friendly, particularly from complete strangers in unfamiliar areas, and especially after living through another attack.