Remnant

by Michael Clements

  “What are the chances they'll see me?” asked Mercy.

  “The guys on the roof don't usually cover the gate. They shouldn't spot you.”

  Perhaps it won't be the end of the world if they do... Glen played out every scenario he could think of. Isaac was demanding, but he would not sentence anyone to death if they carried a child inside, nor would he kill Seth for enabling it. There are worse men out there. Though still harsh, as well as disagreeable, Glen knew there was not a great deal to fear.

  Seth had instructed them to wait there for three minutes while he relieved the gate guard, then for Glen to check the area alone just to be sure. To his heart's delight, everything had gone according to plan, and it worked flawlessly. When Mercy carried her child through the gate without a single pair of unwanted eyes on her, Glen could see her pace slow and her weight lighten. He was equally as joyful. Seth led them to James' suite in the east wing on the first floor. His was one of the few on the first floor, since most of that level was barricaded against potential intruders. Seth then volunteered to relieve Mercy of carrying the boy.

  Knock. Knock.

  Seth's hand was quiet and slow; other shelter residents occupied both opposite suites. Glen put his hand on Mercy's back, smiling. She looked up at him to smile back. The boy she had been carrying was silent, which was a bittersweet relief. As they waited for James to answer his door, he wondered, what's that child going to be like when he wakes up? No doubt, those men influenced him with their malicious teachings and pressures.

  “Why, good evening, Seth,” answered James with exaggerated politeness. He was clothed in warm pajamas, wearing a sweater over them. He looked at Mercy, then Glen and greeted “Good evening.” Glen saw James' eyes find the child Seth carried, but waited to say anything. James gestured for them to enter. “What brings you here?” he asked as he gently closed the door behind them.

  Seth spoke for them. “Sorry James, but we need a big favor.”

  James nodded with a pause. “Does he need treatment?” he asked about the child.

  “I'm taking him in,” said Mercy confidently. “He's hurt. We think he won't be noticed if he stays with you. Or, so they tell me. I'll take him back to live with me once … I don't know. I guess when Isaac warms up to me or something.”

  James smiled nervously. “I can't do that, guys.” He remained polite and composed. “It's not right, and Isaac could kick us out. My wife hasn't fully recovered yet, either.” Glen glanced around James, spotting in the distant bedroom what was James' wife Candace. She was motionless, but judging from their bedroom's condition, Candace had been bed-ridden for quite a while. “What's his name?” he heard James as he scoured.

  “We don't know yet,” said Mercy. “I'll take him back in a couple days. Please, James. Just for this short time...”

  “Look, um...”

  “Mercy.”

  “...Mercy, I'm not a liar. Believe me, I'd love to help you but I don't condone deceit.”

  “You can tell Isaac yourself once I've taken him back,” said Mercy, catching Glen off guard. “No... I'll tell Isaac. I promise. But please, what's most important right now is that he gets rest and treatment.”

  James looked at Mercy with concern. “My medical knowledge is limited. I can't promise he'll get the treatment he needs.”

  “Do what you can, then. It's better for him than anything we could have done.” James nodded in response.

  Glen put his hand on Mercy's shoulder. “Look, Mercy, if Isaac finds out-”

  “Won't he find out anyway?” snapped Mercy. “It's better that I come clean than wait for the inevitable.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Then, James approached Seth and lifted the boy from his arms. The new caretaker placed the child down on the couch, taking an extra blanket from a short stack he kept by the front door and placing it over the child. “I'll watch over him,” he said. “But, as soon as he's feeling better, Mercy...”

  “I know...”

  With that, Mercy let herself out of the suite, virtually stomping down the hall. James looked as if he feared he offended her. Glen quickly followed after.

  “Glen!” called Seth, barely maintaining a whisper. “She needs time to herself. It's been a rough day.”

  Glen stopped, accepting the truth in Seth's words. He slowly returned to James' apartment, where the shelter's medic was knelt beside the couch looking through his med kit. “Thank you, James. We appreciate it.” James smiled and nodded, but said nothing, which Glen interpreted to mean he was not thrilled with his situation, but was willing to oblige nonetheless. He exited the suite, slowly closing the door behind him.

  “You were there when Mercy found that kid?” asked Seth.

  “No.” Glen's words carried pain with them. “I found her in the street, when she came out of hiding. We were attacked before we could retrieve anything.”

  “By who?”

  “A group we've never seen before. They had children with them. Armed, deadly children the same age as that boy...”

  Seth paused. “Should we warn James?”

  “About an unconscious ten-year-old? I think he's fine. Besides, I think that boy was hurt because he isn't like his colleagues. I remember hearing something... It sounded like men beating one of the kids because they wouldn't obey. I think that boy refused to kill anyone, and they beat him for it. They beat him within an inch of his life. That's where Mercy found him. She couldn't leave him there. I admire her spirit, but...”

  “But what?”

  “She just... I don't know.”

  “You think she should have just left him there?”

  “No, but... All I'm trying to say is that, sadly, bringing him here won't make much of a difference. When Isaac finds out, and he will, he'll kick the boy out. Mercy won't abandon him no matter what. She can't support him, though. She can barely support herself. Hell, we can hardly support ourselves, even with a fortress and a small army of ... thugs on our side.” Glen realized who he was speaking to. “Sorry, I didn't mean you, Seth.”

  “I'm not offended. You're probably right.” Seth took a few steps toward a window that overlooked the courtyard. “Why did you go back for her? How did you meet her?”

  “Mercy was lost,” replied Glen. “Emotionally, physically... She flocked to me since I was the only one willing to talk to her.”

  Seth turned to face Glen. “Hey, you're the guy that...” He hesitated. “You're Rachel's dad, right?”

  “Yes. Mercy and I talked about that.”

  Seth nodded, turning toward the window again. “I heard she lost her niece. Pretty recent, too. Cruel fucking world we live in now. Do you ever think about that? The people we went to school with, had jobs with, lived by... Now they're as much of a threat to our lives as we are to theirs.”

  “Hunger changes people. Having no laws... that will change people, too. So do radical political views.”

  “Views?” said Seth. “The rich kept the money to themselves and the government wiped their ass with the Constitution. We didn't just disagree, we fought to get back what we deserved.”

  “I don't want to get into it, please.”

  Seth began walking, and Glen decided to walk with him. They made their way toward the nearest flight of stairs. “Did Mercy vow to save your daughter, too?”

  Glen breathed deep. “No..., but she got me thinking.” Seth glanced at him. “She told me a lot of things I already knew, but... maybe I just blocked it out of my mind. She told me that I wasn't there when Rachel was taken. That I don't know if she's dead for sure, and I shouldn't assume she is.”

  “Mercy's right. Rachel could still be alive.”

  “If she was still alive, why hasn't she returned to the shelter?”

  “Maybe she doesn't want to. Or, she can't. Maybe she's being held hostage.”

  “Last I saw her... Rachel disappeared at 21st and Johnson, I believe. I just don't know what...” Glen had to stop. “Seth?” he reluctantly said.

  “Yeah?
”

  “It kills me to ask this of you, but... I'm old; I'm weak; I can hardly make it around the shelter. But...”

  “You want me to find Rachel, don't you?”

  Glen paused, then nodded.

  Seth looked away for a moment. “I understand,” he said. “I know what it's like, being without your family.” He tried to remember what Rachel looked like. “Can you describe her a bit?”

  Glen shrugged. “Well, she's close to forty. She... She's got her father's round face, but a lot less hideous.” He faked a laugh. “Dark brown hair, about average height–”

  “Okay, Glen. I'll think about it. I mean, Rachel might be alive, so... I'll think about it.”

  THEIA

  The den was silent. Luckily, the lions were slumbering.

  With no lights to see her way around, she knew she would have to guess every step. Maybe I should just sleep right here, she thought. Sure, the spot was directly in front of the door, but it felt like less risk than stumbling around finding a better place. She saw what the other kids did in the streets. Whoever had spotted her was undoubtedly around her same age, but had a threatening, ravaging tone in his voice. These kids wanted to kill. They liked killing – no different than the adults.

  Morning arrived sooner than she expected. Unfamiliar voices woke her, and she found herself in front of the entrance to the sanctuary, folded in a tight ball. Theia was unquestionably the last to wake, and though the other kids had seen her there, they paid her no attention. I guess I'm just another new face. That comforted her, but it came with feeling lonely. It was either be stared at, or be ignored; either way, she didn't trust her circumstance. Her peers were collected in circles, sitting idly with nothing to occupy themselves. She felt as depressed as they appeared.

  She now chose a better place to sit. I guess I just pick one of these circles... Whether the groups were assigned or it was purely choice on their part, Theia wasn't sure. She chose the gathering farthest from the sanctuary doors – a small group of three kids.

  “Hi,” she said plainly to them. One of them might have responded, but if they had, it was too faint to make out. The three were seated with their legs crossed, so she did the same, in case that was somehow important. “Did they take you guys, too?” she asked. Stupid question. But at least it might give us something to talk about.

  “Yeah,” said one of them, sniffling. That was all he said. He was the only boy in the group. He had pale skin with curled blond hair, and a nose that looked like it was placed too high on his face.

  “How did they get you?”

  The boy started to look uncomfortable. “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah,” said the girl to Theia's left. “Nobody wants to talk about that!”

  Theia was offended by the girl's rudeness but respected her passion. She admired the girl's black hair. That looks good on her. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm Theia, by the way. I just got here.”

  The boy was not rude to her. “It's okay.” He sniffled. “I'm Matt. How old are you?”

  “I'm eleven-and-a-half,” said Theia. Part of her felt it was a mistake to divulge that.

  “I'm almost ten. Just one more month!” said Matt. “Claire's eleven, too.” She assumed he meant the girl with black hair, who now seemed to be ignoring them. But he apparently meant the third person; the blonde girl that had smiled at Theia when Matt spoke her name.

  “I'm Claire,” she said. The girl seemed a little jittery. Must be nervous, Theia thought.

  She scanned the room, feeling uneasy but not feeling threatened at the moment. She turned to Matt in a whisper. “So, what do they ... you know?”

  “What?” asked Matt, sniffling.

  “Are they going to let us out, or something?”

  Matt leaned back to lift his head up. “They give us treats sometimes. But… sniff... we don't do stuff most of the time. I think they wanna kill us with boredom.”

  “Hmm.” Theia nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don't think so... Do they make you fight, like shoot people and stuff?”

  “They don't let us do that. Only the special kids do that. The boss keeps us in here so we're safe.”

  Special kids? “What do you mean 'special kids?'”

  “We have to prove we can fight. But... the boss never really gives us a chance. But he saw something in us, right? Why else would he keep us here? Even me. He saw something in me. I don't know why he won't give me a chance.”

  “Maybe he's watching you,” said Claire, finally pitching in but keeping her eyes away from them.

  Theia pondered a moment. She tried to think of how Marcus would be watching them. She had only just arrived there, so it was too early to know anything for sure. He talked about her ability to take care of herself, but he also dumped her into that sanctuary without explanation. “Do we ever get to leave, to use the bathroom or something?”

  Claire laughed. “We don't use the bathroom. We go outside and they watch us take a dump, then bury it.”

  No, they wouldn't watch us. Nobody wants to watch someone do that. “Why?” she asked. “The bathrooms don't work?”

  “The bathrooms work, they're just saved for the better kids.”

  “So, do they let us leave for anything else?” asked Theia, hoping for a reassuring answer.

  “No,” said Matt. Theia's heart sank a little. “They bring the food in here. It's not very much, and there's never enough to for everybody.”

  Just then, the doors at the far end of the room opened. The man who captured Theia entered, a small box in his hands. He said monotonously, “Who wants some candy?” and dumped the contents of the box at his feet before returning to the door. Nearly all the kids rushed to the pile, and the man stood watching. Theia felt saddened to see the kids aggressively push and trip each other. Some stole the treats from others' hands, while some became outright violent.

  Matt began to tremble, like shivering from the cold. Though Theia hoped it was nothing but the frigid air, when she turned to look at him, she saw something different. Matt fell onto his face, his shaking quickly escalating to violent convulsing. “Matt! Matt! What do I do?” Theia's voice outgrew the crying and whimpering kids fighting for their sweets.

  “Move!” said the third girl of their group. She shoved Theia aside, cradling Matt's head onto her lap. “Try to hold him still.”

  Theia dropped onto her knees and wrapped her arms around Matt, catching a glimpse of his eyes, which were rolling back. Theia, frightened, closed her eyes and tried to keep him still. It only lasted a short while. Matt was motionless for another minute before his eyes opened.

  “Oh, no...” breathed Matt.

  “It's okay,” said Theia. “You're okay.”

  “I'm so sorry.” Matt was almost in tears. The girl didn't move until he gathered himself. When he recovered, she walked away, relocating to an empty corner at the opposite end of the sanctuary.

  “Hey! What–”

  “Don't worry about her,” said Claire. “She does that a lot. No one gets her.”

  “Does what?” asked Theia. “Saves Matt's life then just walks away?”

  Claire nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  The day went by with little to nothing happening in that room. Theia found some occupation with her thoughts, which were not directed at her parents much. Her heart ached whenever she allowed it. As much as she longed to see her father again, she was at least content. Finally, she wasn't alone. She had the company of dozens of other kids in a safe building, and for the time being, that was enough.

  The Cross beyond the pulpit was enough to occupy her mind. She knew what it represented, but had never given it a great deal of thought. Her parents rarely discussed religion with her, or with each other. Just another story, she thought. But Mom said all stories have a meaning, even if they're not true. For a while, she thought deeply about the meaning of the story of that symbol.

  The lack of noise, or activity, was actually
preferred over the city outside. Theia wasn't even sure if she was still in the city. Wherever she was, it was safe. At least I'm not running for my life. None of the kids in that sanctuary were anything like Chase, or so it seems...

  Finally, as the light pouring in through the stained glass designs faded, Theia saw night had fallen again. She decided to pass time with sleep, since there was nothing else to do. Her attention shifted to the sanctuary doors opening abruptly. In such darkness, the figures entering were impossible to discern. “Alright, if you hear your name, you've been chosen to have a chance at proving yourself.”

  Prove yourself at what?

  “I recommend you don't disappoint your leader. Here's who we've chosen: Jayden, Drew, Molly, Kayla and Jake.”

  Theia heard a kid somewhere in the room ask, “Did you mean me? I'm Jayden with a 'Y.'” That was when she decided to resume trying to sleep, thankful she hadn't been called, hoping she never would be.

  She must have dozed at least a little, because next she knew, the doors opened again and a loud voice called: “Time to eat!” Marcus had entered this time, with the food being carted behind him, to her surprise.

  “The same shit as always,” said Claire. “Fucking oatmeal.”

  Better than nothing, thought Theia.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see some of her surroundings. The adults had chosen a very early hour to feed them. Marcus stood by as two women dragged in a large pot, its exterior covered in dirt and crust. The other kids stood up and got in a line as one by one the ladies gave them a single scoop of the hot cereal. They begged for more, but they were met with scorn. When Matt and Claire stood, Theia stood with them, and followed behind them to the line. They were among the last. Several people were still ahead of them by the time the ladies announced the food was depleted. Those still in line moaned and cried as they pouted back to their spots on the floor. Matt and Claire walked away as well. Theia did not follow. “Isn't there more?”

  “Sometimes there is, sometimes there isn't,” said Claire.