Remnant

by Michael Clements

  “What do you mean?” Claire didn't reply. Maybe she didn't hear me, thought Theia, so she walked back to their place on the carpet. “Hey Claire, uh, what do you mean?”

  She sighed. “They never have enough for everyone.”

  “How does everyone eat, then?”

  Claire shrugged. “A lot of times, some people don't eat at all.”

  Theia watched as several kids tried to beg others for a bite. Some deprived of food acted like they didn't want any.

  Night was detestable. Theia learned that the 'better' kids, whom she hadn't seen yet, got to sleep on mattresses, while she and everyone in the sanctuary were reduced to sleeping on the carpet without pillows or blankets, save for a couple of each that were tossed in at the last minute. That was when Theia came up with a theory: A small amount of food. Very few blankets and pillows... They want us to fight over them. That's the test. She came to this understanding that night when the items were tossed in, and she witnessed some of the other kids virtually tear each other apart for them. There were about three or four who always seemed to get what they want. One of them was Spencer; she was surprised to have not recognized him before, and was surprised he was still among the 'lower' kids there in the sanctuary. The selfish boys had the appearance of spoiled children, too. Must be how Chase got his group, beating and stealing his way to the top, she thought. He must have been here for a while. He couldn't have lasted out in Portland all these months on his own. She realized it was by random chance that she found Chase and his group, but Chase didn't bring her to Marcus, nor did Marcus himself. How many people work for that guy? she couldn't help thinking. As she curled up on the floor beside Claire and Matt, Theia wished her father a good night, then fell asleep.

  “Wake up!” someone shouted early the next morning. Before she knew what was happening, her eyes opened wide and she sat up. It took a moment to remember where she was. “Everyone gets to eat early today!” said some man as he wheeled in a large pot of probably oatmeal. “Eat up, because it's all we have left.” Much to her surprise, the other kids leaped toward their chow with high-strung energy. To Theia it felt much too early for anyone to be so lively. Even Claire and Matt were awake, she noticed.

  For reasons unknown to her, she remembered that girl who helped Matt through his seizure, and thoroughly scanned the room to find her. The girl, with that black hair she admired so much, was nowhere to be found. Was she one of the people called out last night? she thought. Then, as she looked again, it didn't seem that any of the kids who left the previous night had ever come back. I guess I can't know for sure if they did, she admitted. Regardless, the girl who saved Matt's life was definitely absent.

  To catch up with the kids that had already reached the food, Theia ran for the line, too. The kids shoved each other around a lot more than they had the previous night. That morning their food was some kind of cereal. Cheerios? guessed Theia. It was food nonetheless, and her peers were warming up to tear each other apart for it. The sole adult in the room demanded they keep themselves composed, which was enough to quell them... for a time. As expected, there wasn't enough for everyone, and once the man left the sanctuary, their hostility resumed. The same boys managed to keep their portions, and were additionally able to steal extra from others. Anyone who got to eat had to swallow what they could, as fast as they could, attempting to hide themselves somehow.

  It upset Theia; triggering her anger. When the big kids won, no one contested them. She opted to be different. Matt attempted to seize her hand, but missed.

  “You should give some of that back,” she demanded of the boys. She expected laughter, but they only looked at her and kept eating. “Just because you're big, that doesn't mean you can have whatever you want.”

  “We're bigger because we get whatever we want. We don't just sit on our ass and cry about it.” That's when the laughter came.

  “Give it back! Some of us haven't eaten!”

  “Tell it to someone who cares,” said the same boy.

  Spencer approached her, slowly. She had feared any confrontation from him at all. “This is for Chase,” he said. And with one strong swing of his fist, Theia found herself on the floor.

  “Theia!” cried Matt. He ran to her, coughing ferociously.

  But Spencer kicked Matt off Theia then dropped on top of her. Theia lifted her arms up as Spencer proceeded to try beating her face in the same manner she had beaten Chase's. Dad always said not to fight. Don't fight, don't fight. Then her father's words came to her in clear memory. “Never fight, unless you must. And never throw the first punch.” It was as if the memory brought her father into the room and he gave her direct permission to fight back.

  Theia gave in to her rage, grabbing the next arm coming down at her, then striking Spencer hard in the nose. In the brief moment it bought her, she threw him off, then elbowed him in the belly. The kids chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” but Theia couldn't hear them. Only when Spencer was immobilized, writhing on the floor, did Theia chose to stop. He was not only in pain, but crying loudly. That was when she started hearing the chanting, which only made her sick. Dad said hurting people is nothing to be happy about. A lesson she wished the other kids knew.

  The sanctuary doors opened, and several adults poured in. They seized the combatants quickly, carrying them out. Theia did not resist, instead remaining completely limp.

  For the second time, Theia found herself in Marcus' office, or bedroom, or meeting room... whatever this is. She was seated in front of him on the floor, then left alone with him.

  “Did you start that fight?” asked the boss.

  “No. I would never do that.”

  Marcus laughed. “Don't worry, I won't punish you. Everyone should be able to stand up for themselves.”

  “Yeah! After you force them to because you won't feed them or let them stay warm.”

  Marcus paused. He had begun pouring a drink, but refrained. “You're a sharp one. How old did you say you are? Eleven?” Theia nodded, lowering her head down to the floor. “Sadly though, you're wrong. I told you, there's not a whole lot of food to go around. That's why I asked for your help. You are ... impressive for someone your age. I'd love to know who taught you how to fight. Was it your dad?”

  “Yeah. My aunt taught me a lot, too.”

  “Your aunt, huh? Interesting. Your dad must not be a good fighter.”

  “He could beat you up. He could beat up all of you!” Theia felt ashamed for the outburst.

  Marcus laughed again. “I see.” He stepped around his desk, approaching closer. “So Theia, what started that little quarrel with Spencer?”

  “His friends were hurting people and took their food and took their blankets and their pillows.” She could feel anger returning. “I told them to give it back, but they wouldn't. Then, Spencer... He... I don't know.”

  “Hmm. I imagine Spencer just wanted revenge for Chase. You hurt him pretty bad, you know. He told me everything when he came back.”

  “Is Chase okay?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Yeah, he's fine. My men brought him back. He'd love to talk to you sometime.”

  “Are you going to let him hurt me?”

  “The question is: will you let him hurt you? We don't live in a world where we can run away from everything. We have to fight for what we want, even if it's just survival. I want you to be strong, and you should want the same for those friends you were standing up for.”

  “My friends didn't get anything in the first place.”

  Marcus nodded. He started to slowly pace around the room. “You know, Theia, if you prove yourself useful, and you stay by my side, I could give you the power to change things around here. That's what Chase had, before he abused that power and ran away. So many have done that, then they die in the streets. If you can show you're willing, and capable, to contribute around here, I can give you special treatment. I can make you a leader. Is that what you want?”

  Theia shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

&
nbsp; “Where is that, little girl? Where is home?”

  “Don't call me 'little girl,'” she scowled.

  “I've given you a home. I've given you friends and family. All I ask in return is that you help me. Help me keep everyone safe. Help me find food. That's all I ask. If you just ... walk away, you're leaving your friends here in exactly the same position you found them in. What are your friends' names?”

  Theia continued to stare at the floor. “Claire and Matt,” she answered.

  “Do you want Claire and Matt to keep starving and sleeping in the cold?”

  “...No.”

  Marcus paused. “Matt... I think I know that kid. There's only one Matt here. He has all kinds of problems, doesn't he?” Theia clenched her fist, disgusted how he spoke of her friend. He continued. “You know, Matt could use an inhaler. And when he has his seizures, he could use a pillow of his own. There's a lot of things he needs. But I don't have enough help to get those things for him.”

  “You just want me so I can shoot people for you and beat people up.”

  Marcus sighed. “Oh Theia, you know that's not true. If I didn't care about you, or about anyone in that sanctuary, you would all be dead. I saved you. I saved them.”

  “Fine!” she bursted. “I'll do whatever you want. Just as long as Matt gets what he needs, AND everyone else.”

  “I need to see commitment first. Do you know what commitment is?”

  “It's when you stay with something no matter what?”

  “That's one way to define it.” Marcus stepped up to her and crouched down, meeting her at equal eye level. “If you show me commitment, I'll make you a leader. Then you can give Matt everything he needs. Even his own bed. First, I'm going to give you a test. If you impress me, you pass. Deal?”

  Theia nodded her head, hating herself and hating him all the while. “What test?”

  MERCY

  Lost another one... she painfully thought. But only if I don't fight to keep him.

  For the rest of the previous night, Mercy had sat alone in the apartment, thinking only of that boy. It was midday when she woke, but she remained on her mattress.

  No one's come in yet. Must mean my secret's still safe. Still only temporary, though...

  Her stomach ached without growls, like knots tying in her stomach. It was December 21st, she mentally noted; that meant she had not eaten for five days. Since the day before Haley's passing. Though she starved, she repressed the condition from her mind; it was irrelevant for as long as someone else had her child. Internally, she struggled to know for certain if she was filling the hole Haley left in her heart with the boy she rescued.

  The boy seemed to be no older than fourteen and no younger than twelve. To her, that felt to be somewhere between too old to be her child, but too young to be her sibling. A strange age difference between them, considering she would henceforth raise him.

  Mercy pulled herself up, wrapping her blanket tight around her. It kept her warm enough. When briefly in James' suite she saw his stack of extra covers. Stupid, she thought. I should've borrowed one.

  She abruptly heard: Knock knock knock.

  “Yes?”

  Seth entered the apartment, finding her in the bedroom. He was wearing what he wore yesterday as if he rarely, if ever, changed his clothes. “How are you feeling?” he asked, approaching her.

  “When do you sleep?” she asked instead. She felt poorly for not greeting him back.

  “I sleep on and off, both day and night. Isaac says I should get twenty minutes in whenever I can.”

  “He makes you work every minute of every day?”

  “Well, Isaac's my boss every minute of the day,” he chuckled. “We don't have specific hours. We're just expected to do our jobs. Sometimes I keep watch on the roof, sometimes I'm at the gate, and sometimes I'm in the streets.”

  “To bring in hostages...”

  Seth stumbled over his words. “We don't... We don't do that, Mercy.”

  “Why are you here, Seth?” Her words were as chilling as the cold. Though he was being kind, it didn't change the fact he virtually forced her to be there. She chose not to verbalize how she felt about it.

  “I...” Seth rubbed his face. It was the first time she consciously noticed that nervous habit he had. “Thought you might want some company. And I just wanted to let you know that your kid is doing fine. I heard Candace isn't happy about it, but she's tolerating.”

  Candace? she thought for a moment, until remembering the name.

  Seth opened his mouth as if to continue, but paused with a heavy inhale. Mercy assumed something was wrong with him for a moment. “Can I just … ask you something?” he said, avoiding looking at her.

  “Um... Sure. What is it?”

  “Is Ethan your boyfriend or something?”

  “No. He's not even a friend, really. He's just... I don't even know how to describe it.” She looked at Seth again, who was now looking directly at her, almost glaring. “Why do you ask?”

  Seth rubbed his face nervously. “Nothing. He just seems like bad news. I don't trust him.”

  “How come?”

  “He looks like he's up to something. Plus, there's the fact that he's part of the mob, obviously. I think you should stay away from him. I insist, to be totally honest.”

  Mercy felt touched by his concern. “Well, Seth, Ethan's not my friend, but he brought me here because he … wants something from me. We had an agreement, and I have to fulfill my end of it. Know what I mean?”

  “You're going to risk your life because of some deal? What was the deal, anyway?”

  The subject of that 'deal' brought back more emotions than recollections. She refused to answer Seth, for her own sake. “If Ethan wanted to hurt me, he would have already,” she said plainly.

  “Isaac told me that he used to be a pimp. He probably wants you for that. To be honest, I think that's what he's up to. Why else would he drag you out here into no man's land? He used to make a living off pretty girls like you.” Mercy shrugged, her eyes absently looking at the floor. “You still trust him?”

  The news was both surprising and not. Ethan hadn't struck her as the type to deal with prostitutes on a regular basis. Seth's concern was endearing, and his assessment was legitimate, but something about it still felt incorrect. “I don't know,” she said to him gently. “I don't know what he wants. I don't know his agenda. I don't know what he wants from me. It probably doesn't even matter anymore because I have someone I'm responsible for, now. Ethan's kind of irrelevant at this point. Don't worry about me, okay?”

  “Okay...”

  Tension had built up between them, and it took a moment to subside. Mercy brainstormed for a better subject to discuss, before it became too awkward. “So, Isaac brought you here?” she asked Seth as he seated himself on the opposite end of the bed.

  Seth paused and his eyes looked away for a moment. “I've known Isaac a long time. Long before he was ever my boss. Honestly, I never thought he would be my boss someday.” He hesitated. “I had this … problem with drugs. I tried to join the Marines, but I didn't qualify. I have a rare liver defect. So, I started selling drugs to make ends meet. Isaac was my supplier, I was one of his distributors. He worked for a boss somewhere, but I don't think he met with her very often. And well, that's how I came to know him.”

  Mercy tucked her blanket under her legs before tightening it further around herself. “You didn't strike me as a junkie. You must have been clean for a while before I met you. What got you out of drugs?”

  “Well, I wasn't doing drugs, I just sold them. Sorry, wasn't clear on that. Me and a couple friends got it all from Isaac then we went around finding buyers. It was mostly heroin, and sometimes pot. Well anyway, one of my friends had a sister named Kristen. I met her the first time when I was crashing at my friend's house one night. That was the night Kristen found out her brother was selling drugs, and she totally flipped. I just... came up to Kristen and started talking to her and we kinda … clicked.”
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  Mercy felt that she already knew where the story was going. You liked her, but she just wanted to be friends, so you quit the business to win her over...

  “Kristen and I started seeing each other. We fell in love.”

  Mercy was happy to have guessed wrong.

  “She uh... She told me that I needed to make a different living if we were going to stay together. So, I quit. I quit the business. Just walked away from it. Never even told my friends. In fact, I didn't talk to them anymore either.”

  Seth said nothing else. He turned away from Mercy, lowering his head.

  “What's wrong?” Mercy asked, highly concerned.

  “I just... don't want to talk about this anymore.” He sniffled once. “Kristen died just after the war started. I couldn't save her.”

  Mercy was shocked. I could have never guessed..., she thought. We have that in common. She pushed herself to his end of the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. There was no need for words at that moment. She did hear Seth whisper, “Thank you,” though what he meant she was not sure. Part of her admittedly was thankful Seth was not crying.

  “Seems we've all lost people to this stupid war,” she said, lifting her head up. “It wasn't worth it. Things were fine the way they were.”

  “Yeah, well...” Seth faced her once he regained his composure. “It wasn't worth this.” He stood abruptly, headed for the door. “I'll check on your new son; see if he's any better.”

  “No!” she stopped him. Though confused why he was already leaving, she quietly said, “I'll do it. I should be keeping an eye on him.”

  Seth nodded, then left without another word.

  What the hell was that all about? The conversation left her feeling empty, yet not alone. She would have never predicted befriending someone who suffered the same agony that she did. She wished she had asked him how he copes with his loss. He must ignore it, she thought. Same as what I should do. There's too much going on to be focused on something I can't reverse. Mercy stood and walked around the room. She sought something warmer, or at least another layer to wear. Like Seth, she had not worn anything different for some time.