Remnant

by Michael Clements

  Mercy caught herself humming an acknowledgment. “You're blunt,” she said endearingly. She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. Why did I talk? she repeatedly scolded herself.

  “I'm not a secretive man,” he replied.

  Then it dawned on her. As she was listening to the man's story, she forgot there was a second person in the room. The first voice to speak to her. Where's that one? Why hasn't he been speaking? The possibilities crossed her mind: the other one could be creeping up on her while she was distracted. Her first impression of both men was that they got along fine, probably well enough to share their toys whenever one was tossed in for them. She kept her guard up, listening for any nearby steps.

  “What's your name?” the deeper voice asked.

  “What's yours?” said Mercy.

  “Karl. They captured me hours ago.”

  Though almost too nervous to speak of, Mercy asked, “Who's your friend?”

  To which, Karl simply answered, “I don't know.” That sounded like a lie.

  “Where is he?”

  “In here somewhere. Hard to see.”

  Exactly as she feared; either he wasn't telling, or he was honest. She was torn in half between feeling threatened and feeling she might be a bit paranoid. Neither Shane nor his men made any attempt to harm her; nor had Ethan. For a moment, Mercy was silent. After catching herself being silent, she spoke the first thing that came to mind to avoid appearing fearful. “Did you take that girl with you?” she asked Karl.

  The faint light of the hall poured into the room as the door opened, illuminating more of the room than Mercy's eyes would have ever detected. Ethan stood there, with half a dozen others. Most of them were armed with rifles, a few were armed with machetes. They poured into the room, taking everyone inside. Mercy was apprehended by the same man who brought her to the building. She saw Karl for the first time, seeing he was a tall, dark-skinned man with big lips. Karl appeared about her age, maybe a year or two younger. The other one appeared to be a boy no older than high school age.

  The men dragged everyone into the hall. Mercy saw an older woman standing amongst over a dozen men, not including those dragging her out there. Scarlet, the boss, she determined. She was apparently the only woman in the building. The different one is always the one in charge, she thought. As Mercy was forced to her knees with the other prisoners, the woman started walking along the line. Mercy was the only one who dared to look up at her, disgusted by the sight of the fat hanging out her sweater, and her greasy hair. She guessed the woman was in her sixties. Despite the woman's grotesque appearance, she waddled about with pride, which Mercy gave her some credit for.

  Scarlet looked straight at Mercy. “You're not afraid of me, young lady.”

  Clever observation, thought Mercy. She verbally replied, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

  “Most people are. Particularly in recent months.” Mercy saw the fat woman look up at Ethan, then back to her. “I'm Scarlet Lancaster. I run the place. Not just this building, but the whole turf. My nephew tells me you came running to Shane with your dying niece?”

  Mercy rose. She looked Scarlet in the eyes. Her bodyguards nearly forced her back down, but Scarlet waved them off. “Yes... Scarlet.”

  Ethan stepped into Mercy's view from behind. “'Ma'am,'” he corrected like a hiss.

  Mercy took the liberty of looking at Ethan again. She couldn't stop staring at his eyes, observing very subtle facial expressions that probably no one else could read. Before getting overly distracted, she replied to him, though more addressed Scarlet. “I saw my niece die tonight. I've done nothing wrong. I don't need to be punished by being lowered to the floor like a dog and forced to respect some woman I've never met.”

  “You'll respect her regardless,” said Shane, who stood just out of Mercy's peripheral left.

  Mercy looked at Shane with a scowl. You just watched her die. I'd be justified in killing you, if it were in me. The words nearly came out of her mouth.

  “I saw my sister die,” said Scarlet, seeming to make a pathetic attempt to sound sympathetic. “There are few things more painful than seeing family killed before your eyes. But that's life, girl. What's your name? Mercy?”

  “Yes, it's Mercy.”

  “You crossed into our turf, Mercy, and we'll deal with you as we wish. My men will see if you can be of any use to us.”

  “And if I refuse to cooperate?”

  Shane lifted his rifle, a 12-gauge shotgun. Mercy fearfully turned to see it as he cocked the weapon. “We'll kill you if you don't cooperate. It's that simple, sweetheart.”

  Mercy shook her head, looking now at Scarlet. “You kill people who haven't wronged you? Nothing is more shameful.”

  “Strong. I like that a lot,” said Scarlet. “We've killed innocents before, young girl. I've never compromised my territory. It keeps the Army off my back. In the past, it kept the cops and Feds off my back. For your own good, I recommend you cooperate. I promise I'll let you go if you do.” Scarlet's words were hollow, but Mercy could sense some truth to them. It was obvious that Scarlet kept the Army away by keeping innocent hostages, and killing them if necessary, but certainly not killing them outright. She probably has a room full of prisoners. She heard Scarlet sigh heavily. “Frankly, I'm too tired for this shit. Ethan, deal with this.” The boss waddled away with a yawn, her guards silently followed.

  The man approached her, standing out from the others like an alpha wolf. “Yes or no, woman,” he said.

  Mercy fearlessly looked him in the eyes. “No.”

  Ethan gripped Mercy by her hair and began to drag her down the hall. She screamed as she tried to resist, but when she tried to remain in place, Ethan only continued to pull. She smacked his arm, then dug her nails into it, but none of it fazed him, even after drawing blood. Ethan dragged her to the main entrance doors; the guards stood aside as he opened them and continued to pull her down the steps onto the parking lot.

  He finally relinquished her when they were in the middle of the lot. Mercy wasted no time, stumbling onto her feet and attempting to flee. Ethan caught up to her and kicked the back of her knee, causing her to lose balance and fall hard on her face. Ethan stomped a foot on her face, pressing down as if to flatten it. “You done?”

  Mercy stopped struggling.

  “Good. Stand up.” She obeyed, but first rubbed the filth and pebbles off her face. “Take it off,” he said.

  Mercy quivered. “What?”

  “Take it off. All of it.”

  Now her dignity was to be exscinded. Refusing would have been stupid. She already knew Ethan too well. He was Scarlet's most loyal, most adamant dog. She nearly reconsidered her decision just to avoid the embarrassment, but she was certain it was too late; Ethan would force her to do this even if she had changed her mind, merely as punishment. When she lifted her shirt, the cold air chilled her belly like being touched by ice. Doing it slowly proved to make it worse, so she stripped quickly. First the top, then the bottom, until all her skin was completely bare. “Can I keep my shoes?” she asked, clenching herself and starting to shiver. She couldn't feel her feet anymore.

  Ethan kicked her clothes aside, including her shoes. “Scarlet has a specific job for you. A woman's job. She won't let you go until you submit. We can make this quick, or I can let you freeze.”

  Mercy held herself as tightly as she could. “Then, I'll freeze,” she said.

  She bent her legs to sit, but Ethan commanded, “You're not sitting.” Mercy obeyed, though she knew it didn't matter if she had or hadn't. “I'll ask once more. Will you-”

  “No, I won't.”

  “All right.” Ethan stepped forward, ready to strike her.

  “Before you beat me, tell me something.” Much to her surprise, Ethan paused. “Did you lose someone too?”

  “...What?”

  “I saw the way you looked at Haley. It pained you, didn't it? You've been thinking about it since. I could see it in your eyes.” Despite her cha
ttering teeth, she was still able to speak somewhat fluently, but knew it wouldn't last much longer. Part of her was ready for the cold to kill her. All that was left to do in life was satisfy this last bit of curiosity.

  “She was a child. No child should die like that.”

  “Was th-th-that the first time you saw a d-dead child?”

  Ethan said nothing.

  “I th-thought so.” For only a moment, there was silence between them. Ethan continued to stare at her. Despite her nakedness, Ethan only ever looked at her eyes. It provided some comfort that he did not seem interested in her body. He could have raped me in the hall, and no one would have cared, she thought.

  Ethan slowly walked over to her clothes and kicked them back toward her. She looked at him, asking with her eyes, and he nodded. She put on everything just as quickly as she had removed it. The cold was still far from gone, but she would at least live a little while longer. “Why so interested?” the enforcer asked.

  “You don't seem like s-someone who would care. No one else looked at her the way you did.”

  “What's your point?”

  Mercy thought for a moment. “I don't know. I guess it's nice to see someone around here with a heart.”

  “Fine, perhaps I have a heart, perhaps I don't. What does it prove?”

  Mercy lowered her head. “Nothing, really.”

  “It's not relevant to your situation in the slightest. I'll let you die if I must.”

  “Yeah.” She looked away, out at the neighboring houses, some of them showing candlelight.

  “Who was that girl?”

  “Haley, my niece.”

  “The last of your family?” She nodded slowly. “Then what's it matter what I think? You have no one left, and my feelings toward the matter wouldn't bring her back to life.”

  Mercy bit down, feeling some anger. “I know. Do you have a family, Ethan?”

  He said nothing.

  “Is it Scarlet? She said you're her nephew. Is it these criminals? These sociopaths?”

  “They're more of a family than you could ever understand.”

  Mercy paused. “They?”

  Ethan sighed. “Scarlet is my aunt, but this is her clan, not mine. If you must know.”

  “You're not a member? That doesn't make sense. Then what are you doing here? How does Scarlet trust you?”

  “Lilith Krohn. Heard of her?” Mercy shook her head. “She's my sister. Scarlet keeps me as assurance that my sister will remain allies with her. Scarlet's my aunt; she's known me since I was a child.”

  “Why are you different clans if you're so closely related?”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “That doesn't concern you. You ought to pay more attention to your current situation, and look at it more realistically. I won't give you all night to reconsider. You'd be wise to put all that out of your mind. Forget what's happened, and move forward, or let it kill you.”

  “As long as I'm alive, I can still hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “...A family.”

  Ethan sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Your family's dead.”

  “I can still have one again someday. There's nothing wrong with hoping for that.” By then, Mercy could no longer feel her arms. Having clothes on again only slowed the freezing rather than reversing it. For a time, there was complete silence between them, which she failed to notice for a while. She looked up, thinking perhaps Ethan left, but he was still there, standing idly, staring at her. “What?” she had to ask.

  Ethan was looking at her as if studying. His posture was more relaxed. She heard a gentler voice when he finally said, “You should stay. For your own good.”

  Mercy was taken aback by his sheer tone. Is he asking me now? From demands to helpful hints in just a few short minutes. It was difficult to comprehend. She felt herself soften up a little. Haley... Mercy thought. She would have died for nothing if I just give up. Before excessive thinking could change her mind, she told Ethan, “Okay, I'll do whatever Scarlet wants.”

  Ethan looked at her. After shivering another minute, she looked back at him. There was an enigmatic look in his eyes, one that she couldn't read. It was neither of hatred nor acceptance; neither joy nor sadness. Then he abruptly started walking back to the building, gesturing for her to follow. Once inside again, he turned to a hallway patrol. “Keep her locked up for now.”

  “What?” Mercy cried. As Ethan walked away, without looking at her, the patrolman took Mercy by the arm, unlocked the cell room, and shoved her back inside. “What about Haley? You said I could bury her!”

  ADAM

  He had not dreamed for a long time. For the past three nights, since he had taken part in the mission with Ethan Krohn, he had merely lain on the mattress with his eyes closed, more attentive to his surroundings than allowing himself rest. The cold seethed through both blankets as it regularly did that winter, and he kept himself warm by being completely submerged under them. If he had fallen asleep, he never felt it, because next he knew, someone was beating on the door. He leaped from the mattress into the freezing air, tripping over his blankets as he tried to drop them. Fearing for his life, he cautiously opened the door.

  “The hell are you doing?” scorned Ethan. He looked uglier now that Adam had lost respect for the man.

  “I... Sorry, sir. I was sleeping. Was I supposed to be somewhere?”

  “The meeting...”

  Adam even feared the annoyance in Ethan's voice. “Sorry, sorry!” He sped across the room, gathering his necessities, including pens, a binder, and his coat. “Is the boss awake?”

  “Hope that she isn't,” said Ethan.

  Adam hurried as if he had been set on fire. The boss' quarters were fortunately a short distance down the hall from his own. As he ran, Ethan followed in a slow walk. The moment he passed the guards, he saw Scarlet awake, seated at the end of her bed. He never paused or slowed down. As he entered, he aimed straight for the closet and picked out something for her to wear.

  “Shut the damn door,” she said.

  “Yes, boss!”

  “Move your ass. I'm cold.”

  Adam dressed her one leg and arm at a time at record speed. Though he selected her shirt at random, it was nearly identical to the one she wore the previous day: black, with the emblem of a salivating, decayed dog's head against a red background. Distasteful imagery to Adam. Then he started the last part – her shoes – which meant he could slow down. As he fitted them, he noticed everything was darker than usual. Glancing outside, he saw rain covering the windows, which were opaque from fog. Though he resented rain, it meant, at least for a time, that the air would be a little warmer.

  Ethan opened the door a pinch. “It's me,” he said, knocking. “You dressed?”

  “Yeah. What?”

  He pushed the door open enough to show his face. “Karl's people are already moving against us. They attacked the south wing.”

  “Is it a problem?” asked the boss.

  “Not at the moment.”

  Adam finished tying Scarlet's last shoelace as she replied to Ethan, “We'll discuss that, too.”

  The meetings were always held there in Scarlet's room. Adam recalled their original setting in the gymnasium, when there was more space in the building, and still preferred they had remained there. Her quarters were unimpressive; teens going through their insecure, hormonal phases had more interesting style to their rooms than the boss of the Lancaster family. It seemed that she kept her quarters barren to be in a constant state of preparedness, should her enemies drive her out again. Adam always reminded himself that the building was not the original home of the Lancasters. Wherever it was, it was permanently in ruin when the troops and their loyalist civilians overran it. Scarlet was believed to be dead, but her own loyalists had escorted her to safety, settling in the school she now called home. Why she was targeted, he never had the courage to ask about.

  Adam set up the three tables close to the whiteboard in a triangle formation, away
from Scarlet's more valuable possessions. The boss' seat was farthest from the board, since she rarely stood. Last night, he had helped prepare all of the boss' notes into a binder, and once the tables were set up, he took that binder from the shelf in the corner and kept it in hand. Her captains entered and seated themselves at 8 AM sharp. Though Ethan was already present, he was the last to enter, and shut the door behind him.

  “Can any of you explain who tried to kill me?” asked the boss as her men took their seats.

  Silence.

  “Well then... I trust you'll make yourselves useful and find out.” She sighed. “We have something important to discuss, so let's begin with the smaller shit first,” said Scarlet.

  Adam remained at the whiteboard, since Ethan chose to stand just behind the boss. Emilio was the first to speak. “Troops have been spotted setting up camp on MLK a quarter mile north of here.”

  “I said less important matters first,” sighed Scarlet. “Any hostilities with customers?”

  “Always, ma'am,” the captain answered, lighting a cigarette. “Alexander has become far more aggressive as of late. The General's inching through our perimeter more every day.”

  “He clearly wants me out of the way. Alright, then what have you been doing about it?”

  “Much of the resistance has come from civilians, ma'am. I have been arming them without trading.”

  Scarlet nodded. “As long as they don't point their weapons at us, I'll allow it. Perhaps we should continue flirting with the troops – it keeps the peoples' attention on them rather than us.” Scarlet turned to her younger captain, who by contrast to Emilio seated beside him, looked like he could be Emilio's son. “Shane,” the boss began with an annoyed tone, “Ethan tells me you camped in your hut last night. Why weren't you in covering your turf?”

  “Half my men were, ma'am,” answered Shane. “The troops are pushing us back, too.” The way Shane swayed his head when speaking to them, Adam assumed he might be drunk. “We laid a trap for them. Unfortunately, it failed.”