Remnant

by Michael Clements

  Before Mercy could react, Jayden dropped his weapon, bolting out of the room, then out of the apartment. She ran after him, stumbling over everything in her path, nearly falling. Leaving the apartment, Jayden's steps could be heard to her right, and she followed. By that time, the hallway was mostly empty, while what remained of the chaos continued on ground floor. Jayden was screaming, screeching and expelling valiant war cries.

  He can't be going toward the fight?

  The boy was faster, and Mercy lacked endurance. Her head spun, her stomach ached. Running seemed to deteriorate what remained of her strength, and her consciousness. She grew light-headed, even starting to black out a little. Her tenacity was stronger, though. She would not allow herself to fail in protecting her child.

  “JAYDEN!” she screamed when she reached the courtyard. Her voice tore at her throat.

  The boy was not far, only a dozen feet away, but she could not reach him. Her strength gave out, forcing her to sit, leaning against the wall. Jayden attacked one of the raiders from behind, but the man was twice his size and threw the boy head-first onto the concrete. Jayden cried as his mouth bled, his front teeth broken.

  Mercy continued to try, despite her weakness. She couldn't stand, so she crawled. Being unable to maintain balance, she took it slow. There was no plan on how to bring Jayden to safety, but she persisted. Then she heard a familiar voice call for her. “Mercy! Get out of here!” It was Glen, whose hands trembled as he tried to carry her back inside.

  “No! Don't!”

  “What is it?”

  She could only raise a hand and point. Glen followed the direction straight to the young boy, who had retreated from fighting as he held his mouth in pain. “Of course,” said Glen. He brought Mercy back to the wall then ran for Jayden.

  Mercy found a splinter of strength return when she saw an able body run to rescue her child. Guilt befell her, witnessing a fragile old man have greater mobility than she. Glen was stopped before he could reach Jayden. The man whom Jayden attacked had set his eyes on Glen, aiming his weapon at the old man, ordering “Get down!” He seized Glen's gun before blunting him in the jaw.

  A spray of bullets pierced the aggressor and he fell, dead before his body hit the ground. Ethan had returned to the courtyard. Mercy's peripheral had seen Ethan take a gun from a corpse. Daniel followed close behind him. Little had she noticed the shelter was nearing victory. Only a couple of minutes later, and it was down to the last one standing. The sole surviving intruder dropped his gun when all of Isaac's men had him surrounded. Ethan dropped his rifle, extracting his knife as he stepped toward the surrendered hostage.

  Mercy watched no further.

  Glen was there with Jayden, comforting the crying boy before helping him back to Mercy. She smiled like she never had. Such happiness was a forgotten feeling until then. Though Jayden was hurt, he was alive. She heard everyone discussing what had occurred, but did not listen. When Glen gave Jayden to her, she stood up, slowly. Jayden could stand, and when Glen had set him down, he leaned in to Mercy, filling her with warmth.

  “Where the hell is Seth?” she heard Daniel exclaim from the gate, a bleeding corpse at his feet. As she continued to hold Jayden, her eyes caught a glimpse of a man walking out into the courtyard alone. It was Seth, and he appeared unscathed; immaculate compared to the others. Some of the men walked toward him, including Ethan, and Isaac, whom she had not recognized in the crowd before that moment.

  “Damn coward!” growled Isaac. Fear came over Mercy, seeing the boss display rage, having never seen emotion from him before.

  Seth had fled the battle. Joy she had felt from reuniting with Jayden was quickly diminished. Now Seth was the one at risk, from his own comrades.

  SETH

  He had witnessed Travis fail to secure the gate. He was on the roof with half the militia, as was the norm. Travis, the naive fool, was coaxed to open the gate by a young woman who was, admittedly, quite beautiful. Not nearly as appealing as Mercy, though, he had thought. Whoever she was, she acted the innocent part well, assuring Travis she only wanted a safe home. Once Travis unlocked the gate, without executive permission, over a dozen men poured into the courtyard, all emerging from hiding places that were blind spots to the roof watch. The irreversible mistake was committed before anyone knew what had occurred.

  Clever cunts, he admitted when the swarm had broken through the open gate, stomping over Travis' body like a mound. Seth and one comrade called a warning to the other watchers immediately. It fortunately did not take them long to realize what needed to be done. Seth, all his brothers-in-arms with him, fired down on the intruders, but their targets took cover by evasively moving indoors. The suites seemed to be their destination to begin with.

  Seth followed them as most of the watch fled from the roof, making their way to the first floor. When he and his comrades reached ground level, the raiders were already there, tactically waiting. Their enemy shot first. Countless gunshots surrounded him, the bullets splintering the wooden walls, screeching when impacting metal. He had given it no thought. Without realizing, he had already run and found a hiding place. He was concealed by an outcropping in a desolate area of the first-floor hallway. He remained there until the shooting died down for the most part. When he finally returned to the battle, all the others had driven the intruders back to the courtyard until only three men were left. Isaac was demanding them all to be killed even if they surrendered. Ethan killed the last of them, opening his victim's throat with a single slash.

  Now to face the consequences of his actions... Seth clenched his revolver tightly. The faces of the entire shelter glared. Isaac was at the lead of those approaching. Daniel gripped his rifle with both hands, unmistakably prepared to receive the order. And Seth prepared to die where he stood.

  “Where the hell were you?” scorned Isaac when he stepped up to him.

  “K- Keeping watch inside. I thought there were more still inside, hiding.”

  “You ran and hid,” said Isaac. Seth had never seen the boss struggle to sustain composure. “You left your brothers out there to die.”

  Seth knew Isaac had some affinity for him. Why exactly, he never knew. Perhaps because he was easy to humiliate, or perhaps because he was the most loyal. Isaac would have had him killed without first approaching, were it not for their kinship. “I'm sorry, sir.” He meant every word. “Do it. I failed. Give Daniel the order.” The henchman gripped his pistol, standing by.

  “No,” said Isaac. “Of course not. A quick death would be a mercy. We've counted six deaths tonight. How many of those deaths could have been prevented if you had some balls?” Seth could see Mercy across the yard, standing alone with Jayden in her arms and Glen beside them. He could handle the embarrassment from the other residents, but for Mercy to see this, his shame substantiated. “No, Seth, we're finished. That's your punishment. I don't want you in my shelter a moment longer, dead or alive. You can die out there, alone.”

  “Sir, I-”

  “NOW!”

  Seth took one glance at Mercy, considering it his last. Tell her how I feel for her? he pondered. A simple comment about her beauty? But there was no time to think it through. He passed quickly through the crowd of faces that glowered at him. None touched him, to his relief, as his heart had nearly stopped beating from fear.

  Without any belongings or any idea of a direction to go, he passed through the gate, turning right, aimlessly leading himself deeper into downtown. He chose to spend the remainder of the night within eyesight of the shelter, but far enough to remain unseen by its residents or the roof lookout.

  He was awakened by the stench of the desolate city. It smelled as if a sewer cap beside him had been opened. He curled up to stay warm, keeping a protective watch on his rifle. Thoughts about what had occurred the previous night dominated his attention. Isaac was merciful, he thought. I'm still alive... It couldn't have been his fault the shelter was nearly overtaken. He considered the fact that he could have aided his colleagues at
least, perhaps saving a life or two. The raid was Travis' fault. He fucked up, not me.

  Glen must have a point...

  The disappearances couldn't have been coincidence. He never asked where his food came from, assuming it was delivered by the hands of the scouts. But it made no sense: the scouts only returned with food for themselves and their families, and as of late, the scouts returned with little to nothing. Yet Isaac, Daniel, and all the rest of them, himself included, never starved. There was no making sense of it. Seth was uncertain if there was anything to make sense of. He considered that he might be paranoid or delusional, or merely investing excessive thought in the situation. Glen, though, he thought. Glen knows Rachel's disappearance was no accident...

  Seth made his decision.

  The morning was young. An ideal time to begin. Though he continued to long for sleep, he could not allow himself to delay. With his duty as a sentry, working random times both days and nights, it was nearly impossible to keep track of his sleep cycle. He needed this task, though, and he needed it immediately. He needed to clear his head of matters he would rather not think of. Certain thoughts needed to be put to rest. And he desired to see Mercy again, perhaps returning to the shelter with his dignity. If Isaac were hiding a dangerous secret, perhaps he could discover it, and free her of him... and Ethan.

  He went straightaway to the intersection at which Glen said had it occurred: 21st and Johnson. Halfway there he was filled with regret for starting that early in the day, where he could hardly see at a distance or stay warm. When he reached the intersection, he saw nothing of worth. It was as if the crossroads had been abandoned for years, showing little sign of activity in recent times.

  Seth asked himself why he was there; a question he could not answer. With that degree of cold suppressing his ability to think intelligibly, he may as well have forgotten his name, too. Seth stood amid the intersection, virtually frozen, unable to decide the next step of his task.

  Several figures in the distance caught his attention, walking north on Johnson St. toward him. One ran ahead of the others. He scurried to the west side of the street. The building at that corner was a dry cleaner; it stood fully intact, hardly despoiled. Seth had to make his own entrance, since it had locked doors and bore no openings from forced entry. He used the time he had to throw a chunk of loose concrete from the street, break through a window without being heard, then proceed to climb inside.

  For several minutes he waited, crouched against the wall. He balanced himself on his toes, prepared to spring up and run away if need be. It was apparent the group gave no effort to keep quiet as Seth heard them approach the building. They must have been in their late teens, he judged from the pitch of their voices, their reckless vandalism throwing rocks and concrete through windows, and their juvenile bantering. They loudly verbalized their pleasure of living in a world without rules.

  Seth changed his mind about them. Considering they were likely no threat, he rose and climbed through the window again. They turned about, spotting him immediately. When Seth dropped down onto the pavement, he found one of the kids pointing a rifle at him, with impressive precision. Two others were with him, one considerably shorter than the others.

  “Hey! Hey! I don't want any trouble,” said Seth.

  “What'cha got on ya?” asked the one pointing the gun.

  “I don't have anything. I'm just looking for someone.”

  “Empty your pockets,” said the shorter one.

  Seth obeyed, pulling his pockets inside-out, nothing but a little dirt falling out. He padded his coat, showing that he only had a rifle. The armed teen took his gun without a word. Seth struggled overcoming the urge to resist.

  “I'm looking for a woman. Have you seen any lately?” Seth patiently asked.

  “Nope,” said the shorter one, then as if never hearing a question, added, “I wouldn't try to get that back if I were you.” He gripped Seth's rifle with a smile, as if showing it off. Seth nodded as the three teens turned to continue walking their original path.

  “Can you tell me anything? Any women at all?”

  “Fuck off,” he heard from one as they turned and walked away.

  Seth accepted it. He paused, pondering again what to do next. The evocation of fear from a gun pointed at him inflicted a dizzy spell. His head was light for a moment, but before long he was able to stand straight again. He nearly turned to proceed north on 21st, but something caught his attention first. It was one of the teens, returning. It was the third one who had never said anything.

  The kid bore an expression of either sadness or regret (or both, he could not tell). The others were waiting up ahead for him. He extended his hands, which held Seth's rifle. “Sorry we were assholes,” he said. “I think this street is where they catch 'em.”

  “Catch who?”

  “Girls... Er-I mean women. They get dragged around here all the time.”

  Seth listened intently. “Why? What are they doing to them?”

  “Killing them ... a lot'a times. Other times...” The boy shrugged. “Who are you looking for?”

  “...A friend. I don't know what happened to her. She was taken right … right in front of me.” He waited for the boy to add something vital, but received no response. “Do you know who took her, or why?”

  The teen shook his head. Seth accepted the disappointment. The boy was already starting to leave, though Seth had more questions. Guess he cleared his conscience, Seth thought. At least he now knew to stay at that street.

  This happens a lot on this street?

  The thought alarmed him. It could not have been more obvious at that point. Who's abducting women? Rachel was undoubtedly still alive. Seth knew deep down, the teen was wrong about the captors killing the women they victimized. Not at first, he thought. With no other leads, it seemed the most obvious next step was to wait.

  Seth had dozed off leaning against the side of the dry cleaners building. He had not fallen completely asleep, aware enough to ask himself: Why am I out here freezing? Is Glen's daughter really so important to me? I barely knew her. Actually, I didn't know her at all. The questions slurring through his mind repeated themselves for an indeterminate length of time. He had no concept of time as he sat there in the cold.

  Footsteps... Seth opened his eyes then forced himself to his feet. People were approaching again, but not down 21st Street like the teens had. He looked down the road, both directions, but saw no one. To keep from being seen by those crossing Johnson, he remained stationary.

  A small band of men crossed the street headed east toward 20th. Among the group was someone with the figure and the hair of a woman. Her head was bagged, her body was limp. The men dragged her along with no attempt at subterfuge.

  Seth waited until they were out of sight. Then he made his move, lightly, quietly following after them. At the intersection he hid behind a shrub, watching the men from afar before he continued to follow. What have they done to you? he thought. No... She's not Rachel. How could she be?

  Keeping low, virtually tiptoeing, Seth stayed on their path. None among the group looked back at any time, which Seth took advantage of by pacing more quickly, to the point of compromising his ability to halt if need be. The group turned left, stepping onto a parking lot up ahead. Seth fully extended his legs, running before he lost sight of them.

  Peering around a concrete wall, he observed the men escorting their hostage into a building with a sign saying, “The Medallion.” It was a large apartment building, having likely been semi-luxurious in the past. Seth was tempted to follow the men directly, but once again caught himself foolishly believing that hostage was Rachel. Sure, it could be, he thought. But Rachel would already be inside. Rachel wouldn't be let out once she was put in. This woman is about to meet the same fate, for sure.

  He proceeded around the building to one of two other entrances than the main doors. His path was open, and no one stood guard. The entrance led directly to a staircase, which Seth made his way up without hesitation
. There must have been ten stories to the building. I hope I don't have to search every single one of them.

  Upon reaching the second floor, he saw only emptiness. Not a sound, not a thing to see. He climbed to the third floor, finding the same result. Then the fourth, then the fifth... At least by the fifth floor he saw what seemed to be guards, who were not protecting anything, or so it seemed. Upon reaching the sixth floor, he saw a drastic change in his surroundings before even leaving the stairwell. Two large men stood by at the top, fortunately not in the stairwell, nor facing him. Why would they establish a base on the sixth floor? Why not just have it be on the top floor if it's going to be so far up already? Seth forced himself to stay focused before his mind drifted to insignificant thoughts.

  His heart pounded in his chest. Even in the freezing winter cold he started to sweat. Too late to turn back, he thought. He had come too far.

  Biting hard, clenching his fists, he walked up the remaining few steps, intending to pass the guards as nonchalantly as possible. Much to his astonishment, he passed the guards with ease. They neither stopped nor spoke to him, but had stared for a moment. Then, as relaxed as he could be, he asked them, “What kind of a place is this?” Ambiguous enough.

  “What kind of hos you lookin' for, bro?” asked the one to Seth's left.

  Hos? I figured. “I heard about this one... She's kinda short, brown hair-”

  “Man, you gotta narrow it down a bit more than that,” said the one to Seth's right.

  “She's middle-aged. Heard she's a freak, especially for her age.” God, he felt ridiculous saying that.

  The guards chuckled. “Middle-aged, like you mean, old enough to be yo momma?” said the left one.