Remnant

by Michael Clements

  Seth nodded with feigned confidence. “Yeah. I mean, maybe she was my teenage mom in a different life, but... I think her name's Rachel or something?”

  The one to his right rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He stepped forward to get a better view of the hall. “Ah, she's at the end here. All the way down, man. Second to last door on your left. You gonna wanna talk to her man first. You got coin?”

  “I don't know. He take credit cards?” Though meant as a joke, the guards did not find it amusing in the slightest. “Nah, I'm kiddin', guys,” he said to save face.

  Seth reluctantly walked down the hall, locking his eyes on the door they pointed to. Around a post to his right side sat a confident-looking man on a chair reading a magazine. Seth recognized the magazine and its issue, knowing it was at least six months old. Practically new, to most people. The closer he stepped the more he contemplated how to get past this man without issue as well. I should guess Rachel belongs to him. He doesn't look like much, though.

  “Hey,” said Seth casually. “I hear you have Rachel?”

  The man looked up, examining Seth before speaking to him. Seth took note of his straight posture and robust physique, which alarmed him. “You here to take somethin' from me?”

  Immediately, Seth realized what he said. “I'm talking to the right guy, right? Are you the one I pay?” With that, he hoped to sound at least a little less obvious.

  “Yeah, I got Rachel,” said the pimp as he stood. “What'chu got?”

  “D-Do... Do you know Isaac?” he said. He began to fear for his life. Dropping Isaac's name felt like the best idea, though it could also be what would get him killed. The pimp said nothing at first, instead examined Seth a little further. He walked around Seth, proceeding to Rachel's door. Seth forgot to breathe for a moment, until he saw the pimp unlock Rachel's door.

  “What Isaac want with her? He don't mess with his hos once he sold 'em.”

  “He didn't tell me. Maybe he wants her over at his place.”

  The pimp stopped in his tracks, shooting a deathly glare at Seth. “You don't think you're taking her away, do you? Don't be stupid now. What'chu you really here for? She your mom?”

  I'm caught. I'm not getting out of this alive. Just surrender right here, right now before he starts calling people in. The words about to come from Seth were of guilty admittance. He had already wasted too long thinking of what to say. But again, his strength kept control. Better to try...

  “My mom?” he said calmly, though his heart kept pounding. “I don't know what this bitch looks like. Her name's Rachel, and Isaac wants something with her. What else do you need to know? Now, Isaac and I aren't on very good terms right now, so I'd rather not test his patience...”

  The pimp remained apprehensive. “If Isaac wants one of his bitches, he can fetch them himself.”

  Seth knew this was a test. He knows Isaac, he thought. Isaac's obviously selling women to this place. These pimps don't get their own. Why would this guy risk upsetting one of his providers by making Isaac come here after he already sent someone for him? No, this guy doesn't look stupid. He knows he shouldn't upset his providers.

  “All right. I'll have my boss come here, then. This might be the last time you do business with him. Don't be surprised if he takes back all his girls.”

  Seth's words elicited an immediate reaction from the pimp. “No! Fine, I'll let you take her. But you remind Isaac they belong to me when he gives them to me!”

  “Don't worry,” said Seth, trying to withhold his relief and excitement. “I'm sure he'll give her back by tonight.” With that, Seth proceeded into Rachel's room. The woman was lying on a bed in the middle of the apartment. She was flat on her belly with outstretched arms, completely static. “Rachel?” he said softly, stepping close to her. “What have they done to you?”

  She seemed to have awakened finally. “Who's there?” Lifting herself up slightly, she locked eyes with Seth, who seated himself at the foot of the bed.

  “Your dad sent me to find you.”

  Rachel took a moment to think. “My dad?”

  “Yes. Glen, your father. I'm taking you back. Can you walk?”

  She slowly shook her head, squinting hard as if perhaps dealing with a headache. “I can't. They gave me another dose.”

  “How long ago? Can you remember?”

  She only shook her head again, her strength seeming to drain more every second.

  To keep up the act, Seth went to the door, throwing it open and angrily confronted Rachel's pimp. “How am I supposed to get her to Isaac when she's drugged up like that?”

  “That's what we do. If he don't like it, he can deal with it. They belong to us.”

  “Well, fucking great,” Seth snapped. “Looks like I'll have to sit on my ass until she gets over it. I'll be sure to tell my boss what took so long.”

  Seth slammed the door upon returning inside. It startled Rachel, who gasped loudly. “It's just me. Your dad asked me to find you.” Rachel calmed, then nodded. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible, okay? Before your boss catches on to me.”

  “Okay,” she answered almost inaudibly. Her sunken eyes, thin skin and weak voice almost made her indistinguishable, but she did bear resemblance to Glen. He wondered if she wasn't just an old man's daughter, but also someone's mother. Something had to keep her so strong. She was weak, but didn't look despaired; he could see it in her eyes.

  “When you're able to talk, I'm gonna ask you about what happened. I need to know what Isaac is up to.”

  Rachel nodded again, sinking herself flat onto her bed. He leaned against the wall, prepared to wait a while, fearing how this situation would end.

  THEIA

  Every night was the same in the city. Like a song playing on repeat, she heard the same sounds each time she stood next to a window. It seemed to never end. Sometimes she preferred the isolation she had as a captive, when she was rarely permitted outside. Even when she had, she was a decent distance from downtown, safely far from its inhabitants, close enough to enjoy its view. Despite how much time had passed since her escape, she continued to need time to adjust to the environment. Her father, whom she trusted more than anyone, was absent, and it seemed he always had an explanation for things. Did Dad know this was going to happen? she wondered. Or did he just want to prepare me for the worst? The more she thought, the more the opaque mysteries became clear. Is Dad dead? The potential terrified her. Dad knew he wasn't going to be around forever. Everything he told me was to get ready for the day I would lose him. She wanted to cry, but didn't want to be heard.

  Memories more recent than her father flooded her mind. She had been placed in that room to reside alone until the right time. The minor number of times she left was only to use a functional toilet. It had been days. Whatever the reason Marcus wanted her in there, she utilized her time alone to ponder. It resurrected sad feelings whenever she thought of her father, even for a moment, but it had been necessary again. He never spoke about a situation like this. He likely never considered to. Can I kill someone to save someone else? In more normal circumstances she would have thought the answer was obvious. Marcus told her what he wanted: To help take down a military convoy - whatever that was - to rise in his ranks. If I don't, then I can't help everyone else. Either way... someone's going to die. What was the right answer, if there was one?

  Dad said... No, everyone said … that I should always do what I feel is right. Even Mom told me that. Both options felt wrong though, and she would inevitably choose one.

  She made a third option: run away. It felt so cowardly. Maybe it is, she thought, but I don't want to know who lives or dies. I can't. I just can't. But if I run away, and Matt dies because I didn't find him an inhaler... even if I don't know about it, it will still happen.

  No. Theia made her decision, and she acted before she could talk herself out of it. She went to the window, seeing the street two floors below. It was a deadly fall, but she saw ledges to hold onto. Pressing against the
window with her palms, she tried to push up, but the glass moved only a little. She reached up high to unlock it, then was just about to try again.

  But she heard: “What are you doing?”

  Theia gasped, quickly turning around. A face she had never seen before was standing before her. It was a girl. An older one who looked around eighteen. She answered, “N-nothing. Just checking the...”

  “Whatever,” replied the older girl. “Come on, we're about to leave.”

  “Leave where?” asked Theia, fear present in her voice.

  “The mission, of course.”

  Theia felt demeaned, as if the word 'mission' was supposed to mean something to her, or sound exciting enough that she should ignore what the mission would be. To her, it wasn't a mission, it was a test, and nothing else. It probably didn't need to be done.

  “What's your name?” she asked as she was being led to some kind of back door.

  “Zoey. What's yours?”

  “Theia. How old are you?” She had to know.

  “Ha. Seventeen. I bet you're nowhere close to that.”

  “Eleven and a half.” After a few more steps she found herself among about twenty other kids, all varying in age, most of whom were sitting on the floor waiting. Zoey seemed to be the oldest, which only made Theia wonder why Zoey was sent to retrieve her. I guess she doesn't want to talk to me. Fine.

  Theia turned her head to the right as Zoey walked away, and just a few steps away stood Spencer, who spoke to no one despite being in the bulk of the gathering. He glared at Theia, like trying to murder her with his eyes. Theia displayed no sign of fear, though she had a little. She turned away to pretend to not see him there. “Hey!” the boy called immediately. Theia faced toward him again. This time, he approached her. “Better watch your back out there. 'Cuz I'll be looking for you.”

  Theia believed him. She found courage when she replied: “My dad said 'only weak people make threats.' If you're going to do something, just do it.”

  “Oh yeah? Go fuck yourself.” Spencer tensed up and walked past her, hitting his shoulder against hers.

  Though she felt shame to admit it to herself, she did fear Spencer. The boss could give him a gun, she thought. He might have a gun right now. She quickly turned around, but she saw nothing but a dark hall. She realized it was certainly possible he was preparing to shoot her from the dark. In a moment of panic, she sought out the girl she just met. Zoey can't be far away.

  Theia found the older girl sitting against the wall, letting a boy examine her impressive hunting knife. “Hey,” she gently said when she stepped up to her. “Can I sit here?”

  “Sure.” The boy looked at Theia, returned the knife, then left, seemingly to be polite. “Do you wanna talk about something?” Zoey asked.

  Is Spencer going to kill me? she wanted to say. Instead, she answered, “I don't know.” Zoey said nothing, so Theia began trying to think of a subject, without giving away her true reason for coming. She noted the way Zoey behaved – with high confidence – and she found it admirable. I don't know how to talk about that... “So...” she began, attempting to improvise, hoping something would come out on its own. “What … what kind of things did you like to do before?”

  “Before? Like, before the world went to shit?” Theia reluctantly nodded. “Oh, nothing.”

  “I hung out with my family a lot,” input Theia. “I didn't have a lot of friends. Kinda wish I did...” Confiding something brought her some consolation, and made her a little happier.

  “Did you hang out with your mom and dad, and brothers and sisters?”

  “Well, I'm an only-child. I wish I had a sister.”

  “Same here,” said Zoey. “No siblings. Nope, not one. Barely had parents either. They didn't really care about me.”

  Theia could already feel herself starting to like Zoey. Her reason for approaching Zoey had almost been forgotten to her. “Really? My mom didn't like me. I don't know why.”

  “Was your dad nice to you, at least? I hope so. 'Cuz if your parents don't treat you very good, you'll find yourself doing things like I did.”

  Theia thought deeply as she asked, “What things did you do?”

  “Still doing,” Zoey corrected, chuckling. “I'm a prostitute. A street walker. A common little whore. I know you're only twelve, but hey, you asked.”

  “I'm eleven and a-”

  “Oh right, right. Sorry, I forgot.”

  Theia had heard that word before, but never fully understood its meaning. Prostitute... That's something bad, right? She had to ask: “What's that?”

  “A street walker is a girl that goes up to cars then grown men pay her for sex.”

  “Eww...”

  “Well, you get used to it. It's not so gross after a while. It's not very dignifying, that's for sure. I've been doing it since I was thirteen. And like I said, my fucking parents didn't care. I was just bound to be a whore anyway, so why bitch about it? It is fun, though. I can't deny that. But trust me, it's not a good thing to get into. You'll regret it once you start.”

  “Why would I be a prostitute? I thought you said you like it.”

  “I like it, but I know it's bad for me. It's just like smoking. Don't do it, little one. Never, ever...”

  “So, why are you here, then?” The question felt a bit rude, and Theia nearly apologized, but Zoey didn't seem to notice or care.

  “Boss needs someone to keep the guys entertained around here. Hey, it pays for everything, so why not?”

  “So, you're a prostitute … here?” Zoey hummed an affirmation. “Why are you coming with us out there, then?”

  “For the excitement,” Zoey smiled. “Speaking of the mission, there's one thing you'll want to keep in mind. Do what you're told. Whatever Marcus wants, do it. And don't, I repeat, don't, run away. You'll get shot before you make it ten feet.”

  She knows I was trying to run away... That's why she's telling me that. Theia tensed up. Blood rushed to her cheeks. “What do I have to do?” she asked nervously.

  “As far as I know, just try to live. That's what I suggest, anyway.”

  A short time later the girls ran out of things to talk about. Theia admired Zoey in some respects, but being in her presence eventually made her uneasy. Zoey had far too many attributes she was uncomfortable with. At the end, Zoey started describing certain sexual encounters she had in her job, making even Theia think, Why are you telling me this? I'm only eleven-and-a-half...

  It seemed no one knew what they were waiting for. Marcus' lead? A signal from someone outside? Whatever it was, it wasn't happening. One hour turned to two, then three. All the others were asleep, some of them sitting up with their eyes half-open. But Theia couldn't sleep. She couldn't recall the last time she slept, or even ate. Her mind was fixated on what was just ahead. She couldn't even think about her father and what advice he would have for her. She couldn't think about anything. There was only fear, and regret had already found her, too. If I opened the window just one minute earlier... she grudgingly thought, Zoey wouldn't have found me.

  Theia imagined her father stepping toward her from the darkness of the hall. She felt excited merely picturing him there, as he approached then sat beside her. She might have even believed it to be real for a moment. Inside, she knew what would likely happen. He would sit next to her, and the first thing he would do is ask, “What are you doing, Theia?” And what would be the right answer? I have to be here? I have to go? All ridiculous. He would tell her that she knows better than to allow herself to go through with this. That she is stronger than that. The man was her best friend, and had been all her life. She knew him so well, he became the personification of wise council to her. He always asks me questions, because it makes me think, she thought. Finally, Theia had to be honest and admit why she was allowing herself to do this. “I'm weak, Dad,” she would tell him. As far as she could recall, she had never disappointed him. She didn't know how he would react to those words. He made her strong. What would he think if I told hi
m I'm weak? I'm so weak, now.

  “All right, get up. Let's go!” a familiar voice called as its source walked in from the hall. The opposite of my dad, Theia thought. Marcus was the one approaching her instead, with his usual guard behind him, and to Theia's surprise he went directly to her. “You ready?” he asked her.

  “I think so...”

  “Good. You'll come in my car. You too, Zoey.”

  Theia had already forgotten Zoey was there, which only increased her fear. Why can't I pay attention? All the kids rose as they were being divided into groups by the adults. For only a moment, she forgot where everyone was going. I'll die out there if I can't pay attention...

  She found herself walking with Marcus, and Zoey behind her. Everyone was armed, except her. Even she recognized how suspicious that was, but she concluded it would be a poor decision to ask about it.

  It seemed everyone left from different parts of the church. Theia couldn't see the other kids, nor the other cars. “Zoey...” she started to ask as the four of them got into their own vehicle. It seemed the teen didn't hear her, so Theia didn't finish her question. Just across the street, Theia could see people seated in front of a tent, watching them closely, with enough guns to fill the trunk of the car. Marcus sat opposite his driver. As the car pulled out, Theia's heart began to race. He was a reckless driver, whoever he was, and no one seemed to mind how he jerked the car around corners, except her. None of it mattered, because none of it was even happening compared to what was about to unfold.

  “Theia,” said Marcus.

  She made eye contact with Zoey before responding. “Yes...”

  “I'm sending all your friends down to the road.”

  “What road?”

  “I-405. I'm sure you're familiar.”

  Not really.

  “They're going to stay there until the troops pull up. It'll be your job to make sure the soldiers don't hurt them. Understood?”

  Theia paused, feeling stupid for not understanding much of what he said. “What do you mean? How do I keep them safe?”