Remnant

by Michael Clements

  “I was trying to end our conversation.”

  “I doubt that,” Mercy replied. She had to keep up with him. Not with speed, but with tenacity. She had to stand her ground and not allow herself to be intimidated. “You wanted me here for something, I know it. Does it involve those records? Why won't Scarlet let you see them?”

  “That's between Scarlet and I. It's irrelevant to you.”

  “Matters so important that Scarlet will keep information from you?” Mercy was surprised she was keeping up so well.

  “You're wasting my time.” He started to reach for her wrist again.

  “Look!” she stopped him. “I don't know why you want those records, but I... I can help you get them if you help me.”

  Ethan squinted. “You're so certain they matter to me. Why?”

  Mercy lowered her head. “I have a feeling, I guess.” I lost this battle, she thought. Sorry Adam. Sorry, little ones.

  After a fairly long pause, Ethan quietly said, “You're not wrong.” Mercy's eyes widened. “But how could you be of any help to me? What could you do that I couldn't?”

  Again, she didn't know what to say, both from shock and from a lack of planning. Wish I had thought this through more. A certain question sounded legitimate: “How far would you go to get these papers?”

  “How far would you go to free … them?” said Ethan. She guessed he meant the kids.

  “As far as it takes.”

  “As would I, for what I want. I'll help you, under a condition.”

  “What's that?”

  Mercy feared what he might say. A man who made a living being a criminal could literally require anything in return for a favor.

  He only said, “You'll know soon enough.”

  Before putting excessive thought into it, she spoke. “Alright. I'll help you, if you help us.” Whatever he'd ask of her, it couldn't have been worse than leaving innocent children to be sold, or worse, killed. “Scarlet would never let us get away with this. Even if it's you.”

  Ethan shook his head slightly. “You're right, but I know a way.”

  THEIA

  For however long she had been there, she had not moved. Her head was pressed against the street, the right side of her face soaking in the residual rain that carried the city's filth with it. Nothing to eat, nothing to see and nothing to run to. No one to run to. Theia made friends with the concrete and didn't intend to separate from it soon. The ground was all she understood anymore, and it did nothing to betray or abandon her. She wished she could speak to it.

  Theia felt a tug on her shirt. A young boy, hardly older than an infant was examining her. “Mom, I found someone,” he said.

  Theia pushed her muscles to raise her back onto her feet, stumbling backward when she saw another family before her. The boy's parents were only a couple feet behind him, following. “Are you okay?” the mother asked.

  Theia flailed her arms violently. Words were foreign to her mind; she could only gesture. Her eyes remained too heavy to keep open.

  “It's okay, it's okay,” the mother said.

  “No!” screamed Theia. “Don't... Don't touch me!” She stumbled over her own legs as she ran away from the family. And she never looked back. After a block, she forgot she was running. She was shivering uncontrollably, but hadn't noticed. The cold had seeped into her skin, all the way to the core of her bones, and she had shut it all out of her mind.

  Miscellaneous images stormed before her; she was unsure if she was seeing or imagining them. She was seeing her father, standing across the street facing away from her. She couldn't stop begging him to turn around, but the cold made her stutter, and he couldn't hear her. She dropped to her knees and crawled toward him.

  Halfway across, her mind regained enough composure to see what was truly there: a small cardboard hut with a black tarp over it, motionless legs extending out from it. Another dead body, and the home it died in.

  Theia crawled back to the sidewalk. That was when she saw the building up ahead and started to crawl toward it, intending find warmth. A smaller entrance was visible, and it was already open, its doors broken through as usual. She was thankful that most entrances to larger buildings were made of glass. Despite the innumerable shards covering the walkway, she crawled over it. Down the hall, just a few feet ahead on the left, was a door leading into an office. That was where she chose to retreat. In time, she made it inside safely. Once more, her mind could focus enough for her to scour the room, and she saw it was devoid of people. She pushed herself toward the desk, curling underneath it. The room was warmer than outside, enough not to freeze in, but she continued to shiver.

  “D-dad... Teach m-m-me. T-t-teach me ah-gen. How t-to swing.”

  “You picked a good place to sleep, Theia,” her father said as he curled up to sit beside her. She clung to him fiercely and felt his warmth.

  “M-m-make, it. Stop. Dad, please.”

  “Don't shiver. Don't let the cold win.” She could nearly grind metal with the force of her chattering teeth. She listened to her father. As she clung to him, she could feel herself getting stronger. For a moment, and only a moment, she stopped shivering and shaking altogether. Her eyes were finally able to open fully. But as her consciousness returned, the more she discerned her father was not truly there. She was holding tight to the chair before the desk, wedged between two of its wheeled legs. And the cold began to return. She realized she was warmer merely thinking her father was there, and longed to be fool enough to think it again.

  Despite the agony of realizing how alone she was, she knew, Dad would tell me those things. He would keep me warm, he would tell me what I did right. Unlike Mom... She couldn't let the cold win, nor the horrors of everything she had witnessed. She would see her strong father again and be safe in his arms, but I need to stay alive.

  Her hands shot forward like the swoop of a bat, throwing the chair halfway across the room, and sprang from under the desk. She pulled open the drawers, removed every sheet of paper from the files and stacks and crumpled them into balls, stuffing them into her shirt and the legs of her pants. Then she tilted the chair over with the seat facing toward her. Cluttering her space would prevent her from moving much for the rest of the night, but she accepted that.

  “Will this work, Dad?”

  “I don't know, but we'll find out,” she imagined him replying.

  Then her thoughts drifted elsewhere. She considered many of the things her father had said to her over the years.

  She was in the living room, a week before Christmas, staring at the presents under the tree. Her father had just returned home from work and he came to her, lifting her up in a loving embrace. “Hey, baby, I missed you.”

  “You were only gone for like an hour.”

  “Forty-eight minutes, to be exact.”

  She knew her father better than that. He wouldn't act so excited to see her after only being gone for less than an hour. “Okay, Dad, what are you up to?”

  “I got you a special present.”

  “Really? Really, really?”

  “Yep, but I want you to remind me what to do with these...”

  He unveiled the present from behind his back. She would have been excited simply to be able to open a Christmas present early, but this present she already guessed, and she couldn't believe he got it for her. It was a pair of boxing gloves, just like the ones he had.

  “'Fighting is only for defense,'” she had to repeat.

  “You can practice with these all you want, but I don't want to find out you've been fighting with other kids, even if it's just pretend.”

  “Daaad! I never do that. Why do you keep saying that?”

  Theia always loved sparring, and both her parents knew that, but they never knew why. In truth, it was because sparring time was bonding time. Her father was always gone working, days and nights nearly every day of the week. She felt a sincere desire from him to savor every minute to be her father and best friend. Why did Mom hate that? she wondered, and always h
ad. But, that night another question had come to mind. “Why does he teach me to fight?” The thought nearly ruined the moment for her, as excited as she was.

  Now, in recent days, it all made sense to her. Toys, like the ones under the tree, couldn't keep her alive. No teachings were contained in dolls and play sets. Dad was teaching me how to take care of myself, how to control myself, and make the best of my circumstances. When sparring, he annoyed her with the phrase “There is always a way out.” Theia wished she had paid attention more when he spoke those words.

  How do I get out of this? she thought. What do I feel is the right thing to do?

  Her feelings couldn't lead her to the right answer, but they incessantly reminded her: she was hungry. This was the longest she had ever gone without food. Never had she needed to find her own food.

  Theia could hear the streets again. Just as the night before, everyone outside was at each other's throats. At one point, she thought she heard a tank roll by. It was an alternate world. She couldn't be certain she was still in Portland at all, or planet Earth. Too many things were different from the world she once knew. She recalled seeing Burnside, but that didn't assure her it was the Burnside she knew of. Why? her mind reverberated. Why are people killing each other?

  “You'll be staying with me, now,” said the old woman, “until we find you a better home.”

  “But I have a good home!”

  “You poor thing...”

  Before she knew it, she was at a stranger's house. One woman was in charge, and all others there listened to everything she said without question. Nobody looked related to that old woman, but they obeyed like slaves. “You poor thing...” Theia couldn't escape those words since she heard them. What does that mean?

  First torn away from her parents, then the world falling apart. There needed to be a parallel between the two. What was Dad always doing? He couldn't have done something to make this happen to Portland. What if Mom did something? Did she know what was going to happen? How could she know?

  The nagging feeling in her gut wouldn't leave and it wouldn't improve on its own. She was finally starting to warm up, but, If I don't eat, it won't matter how warm I am. She kicked her legs out, casting the chair away a second time, and an even colder chill came over her. The freezing air felt like scorching fire, nigh as painful and damaging. She ran to the nearest window, which provided a view of Burnside through into downtown. Feeling something in her back pocket, she reached into it and pulled up a small notepad. Oh, right! It took a moment before she realized she only had it for one day, so she crossed out the December date '15' and replaced it with a '16,' despite the fact it was night and tomorrow was not far away.

  The night sky was clear. The moon was out as well, providing light to see more than a few feet away. Without her glasses, though, distinguishing shapes and distance was difficult. Getting used to discerning distance objects is something she would have to do, and she accepted that. She recognized one thing, though: one of the tallest high-rises, which she knew as Big Pink. It stood out from everything else in sight. Judging from the lights inside it – probably candles, she thought – people resided on every floor of the building. She had never been there that she could recall, but recognizing it was enough to prompt her to go to it. As she gave it more thought, more realizations came to her. We lived on the other side of the river, she thought. If I'm not on that side right now, I have to find the river and cross to the other side.

  Before the cold could finish killing her, she decided to move. With all her strength that remained, she exited the building with only Big Pink in her sights. When she tried to run, the freezing air became harsh wind, so she had to walk with folded arms. Every few seconds, she glanced in one direction or another, keeping watch for others who would come after her, like the predators at the store. Suddenly, she recalled what had happened before she fled to that office building. That was a little boy, wasn't it? She was riddled with guilt and regret for fleeing from them like they were monsters. Part of her wanted to turn around and to find them. They could have helped me...

  Up ahead, she heard commotion, a combination of shooting, loud popping sounds, grunting, shouted commands and screams. A few steps closer, and she was able to see its source. Faint lights illuminated the street up ahead, whereas her location remained in near-complete darkness. People in dark-gray camouflage were tactically maneuvering in and out of buildings, keeping to one side of the street, until they seemed to find an opportunity to cross, where they were met with a spray of gunfire. They were breaking through a barrier of wired posts blocking them from their foe. Soldiers, Theia determined. Then, it all made sense. Portland was a war zone. She had been in a battlefield since she'd first heard the disturbance. Who are they attacking? Why are they fighting here?

  She kept to the sides, thinking of a way to move around the fighting. Going through would be certain death, but she couldn't know how far the battle extended. Theia kept low, concealing herself behind a car, and decided to wait. Staying still has worked so far, she thought.

  Peeking her head around the corner, she saw people, ordinary people, shooting at the soldiers. They were dressed in dark clothes, some were wearing bandannas over their faces, but their outfits were that of everyday life from the world she knew before. The regular people never moved from their cover, whereas the soldiers were only trying to get closer to them. Once reaching the civilians, the soldiers paused, as if silently frozen in time.

  Then more civilians emerged from the higher floors of the surrounding buildings, firing upon the soldiers.

  What! Theia couldn't believe what she saw. She saw kids, her age and younger, armed as much as the soldiers they were facing, all shooting back. They were shouting and chanting, laughing as their enemies' blood spurted. The kids kept their fingers on the triggers even after their victims fell. It wasn't until the moment their ammunition depleted that they ceased. Theia knew what she saw. They wanted the soldiers to get close. Her mouth dropped.

  They knew the soldiers wouldn't shoot the other kids.

  “Look!” one of the kids said, looking directly at Theia and pointing his adult friends toward her.

  Theia panicked. She ran down the adjacent street, aimlessly fleeing toward cover wherever she might find it. No, no, no, no! The way she stumbled over herself, she'd had better balance when she first learned to walk. It resulted in her falling forward, scraping the right side of her face against the concrete. She immediately rose again to press ahead.

  Finally, there was a red-brick five-story building to her left, and ordinary houses on her right. The choice seemed simple, even in her state of panic: the large building. Easier to hide there was her thinking. Theia ran to it, leaping over the elevated plants that covered the entire front. The first window she reached was already open, but undamaged.

  After climbing inside, she paused to look back. For a moment she heard and saw nothing, but only for a moment. A multitude of kids her age, followed by even more adults, were still hot on her trail. They saw where she ran. Theia ran to the hallway, frantically searching for stairs. She heard her chasers' steps and taunts as they entered the building. By then she found stairs and sprinted up until she reached the top floor.

  She nearly resorted to the room closest to her, but reconsidered once realizing that would have been too obvious. Instead, she ran to a room four doors down. The knob had been kicked off, allowing an easy entrance. That means they can get in easier, too. There was a bed inside, but she instead chose to sit in a secluded corner. I'll have to run if they find me, she considered when contemplating a hiding place. But they probably won't find me if I'm under the bed... she concluded.

  It was too late to move. They were already in the halls, making noise as they searched each room, taunting her to come out. Finally, she heard someone enter her room. Theia was obscured from view by the corner and the bed, but only for a time, she realized.

  If a kid finds me, I can get away...

  “Are you in here?” a man aske
d. No, one of the adults, she thought. Perhaps escape was now impossible. Should I give up?

  No.

  Theia leaped forward. The man's eyes promptly found her as she tried to run by him, but it was futile. The man was faster, and he caught her with a simple outreach of his arm. Theia kicked and punched but all her swings missed. The man carried her on his side, his arm tucked under both of hers; she could do nothing.

  “I caught the fish!” he laughed.

  As he carried her through the door frame, Theia pushed off the wall as hard as she could, catching her captor by surprise and off-setting his balance. She was free when they hit the floor. The man kicked the back of her knees as she attempted to run away, dropping her to the floor.

  There was no escaping without using force. Theia forced herself to act, not think, for the sake of survival. She jumped on the man before he could rise and elbowed him in the throat before proceeding to punch him in the nose until blood drenched his face. She paused, seeing the man was incapacitated. When she saw the result of her actions, she understood they'd hunt her down to their last breath if she escaped... She had wounded one of their own. Attempting to flee became futile.

  Others entered the room, including a few kids her age. Angered, the man threw off the blood covering his eyes, then shoved Theia's head against the wall. It didn't knock her unconscious, but inflicted enough pain to keep her immobilized as the man picked her up again, carrying her away with the others.

  It was not long before Theia found herself being escorted somewhere with a bag over her head and a firm hand pulling her arm at the shoulder. She stumbled twice, at which points the man escorting her allowed her to fall, only to force her back onto her feet. Other kids were nearby, some of them mocking her. Am I the only one with a bag on my head? she wondered the whole time.

  Theia was ultimately stopped and she heard doors open. The air around her warmed slightly. She was no longer walking on asphalt, but carpet. The faint echoes of the city ceased. She was inside somewhere small and confined.