Remnant

by Michael Clements

  “By any means you can,” said Marcus, who looked at his driver. “The troops will try to shoot your friends.”

  I don't believe that. “Why are the soldiers driving down the road? How do you know they're coming?”

  “You ask far too many questions. Just trust me. It'll be over before you know it.”

  Theia saw the other cars following them, some pulling in front of them. It seemed theirs was the smallest, while the others were vans and pickup trucks. On the backs of the trucks she saw Marcus' men, relaxed and enjoying themselves, but she knew that inside the other vehicles, where she couldn't see, was where her peers were. She thought of Spencer, wondering how he has dealing. It was a rather short trip through the streets. Despite that, they drove over several dead bodies and seemingly tons of trash and debris. Even to her, it seemed poor thinking to be using cars to get to their destination, because nobody used cars anymore.

  Just as she was pondering this, she heard Marcus' driver say, “We did a good job clearing the road.” Who's we? she thought. How many people work for Marcus? And where are they?

  “Anyone else that drove will leave their cars behind when we're done,” said Marcus in response like giving an order. Theia assumed he meant that everyone else would have to walk home.

  They eventually pulled to the side of the road. Stepping out on the passenger's side, Theia found herself at the top of a steep bank. I-405 lay at the bottom, and if one were to climb the slope on the opposite side, they would be in the heart of downtown. I-405 was like a dividing line, she realized.

  Marcus instructed his men to keep away from the edge, but had immediately stepped up to it, calling forth all the kids. Theia followed, but Marcus said, “Not you,” so she stepped back. Marcus pointed south down the road – so simple an instruction – ordering the kids to run to the bottom of the slope onto the highway and wait below an overpass 50 away. That's it? Just sit? Her peers obeyed immediately. Her heart sank when she spotted one among them who looked no older than six. Marcus gestured for one of his men to come to him, and he took one of the man's two rifles from him, handing it to Theia. “You're gonna help keep them safe, remember?”

  She held the weapon like she had never heard of a gun before, though she had in the past. Her family had an abundance of them; an excess, actually. Her father had a particular distaste for them, one day calling guns, “a coward's way to kill.” She remembered something he added after that, which had since stood in her mind more prominently than the previous statement. “Murder is taking a life. It is precisely that – taking a life.” What he meant, Theia was never entirely sure. She imagined a person's soul being torn from them. And now, in her hands, was a means to do such a thing. Except, the weapon was meant to protect? It made less sense the more she thought about it. How can you save a life by ending one?

  Theia turned around at the sound of footsteps, finding Zoey was directly behind her, leaning against the car. More shockingly, she saw several other of the older kids still waiting by their cars. All of them armed with rifles on their backs, and a pistol in their hands. Some looked older than her by a year or two. Half of them inspected their weapons, pointing them in random directions, aiming down the sight. “It's not a fucking toy,” one of Marcus' men told them. Just then, Theia heard a gunshot and her eyes caught the sight of a flash. One of the armed kids screamed. Theia dropped to the ground immediately. When she looked up again, she saw one of her peers crying with blood dripping from his neck. He blew a handful of flesh from the side of his neck with his own weapon. One of the adults seized him and muffled his screams with a firm hand. Theia was already starting to shed tears.

  “Are the kids still there?” Marcus asked the one adult on lookout.

  “For now. They're losing their shit.”

  “Where are the troops?”

  “Approaching now.”

  Theia rushed to the slope's edge. Now would have been a good time to have better vision. She caught a blurry glimpse of a train of three Jeeps and a tank rolling down the highway, coming from the north. In moments, they would reach the kids below the overpass. It seemed they were escorting a vehicle between them: an armored carrier that appeared half-destroyed. Those surrounding the damaged vehicle did not appear to have seen much warfare by comparison. People in the middle one are hurt, she thought. Or they're trying to carry something through. Food? Tools? Weapons? She saw the company had halted when the children began to run toward them.

  “Stay out of sight!” said Marcus, as he shoved her back with his arm. He shifted his focus to the scene below. “Shit!” said Marcus, grinding his teeth in rage. “The Jeeps aren't close enough!” Theia knew what the kids were trying to do. So much for the plan, or whatever they were told. They wanted to go home, and no amount of lies from Marcus convinced them their own soldiers were the enemy. “Now! Shoot 'em now!”

  Her instinct was to run, just before the bullets came flying. She sprinted to her peers below, screaming, “Go back! Go back!” Men and juveniles opened fire, from her place on the bank, from the overpass, and from the opposite bank. As they fired ferociously, she could see the troops scrambling to get back to their vehicles and reach for their guns. By the time any could fire back, most of them were laid low. Theia spread her arms and stood against the kids. They saw her and stopped just before running into the crossfire. Several dropped flat on the road, but she kept pushing them back, further and further to safety below the overpass.

  Marcus' people moved down from the slopes, including the younger comrades. They did not cease fire until they were met with no further resistance. Every soldier, who made themselves vulnerable only to retrieve the innocent children, were slaughtered viciously within seconds. “Check the vehicles! There could be plenty more!” His adults moved ahead, but the younger ones followed like shadows.

  There in the dark of night, Theia found herself continuing to face away, shaking violently. She couldn't look. Not on her life. After about a minute, she could hear Marcus' people opening the hatch to the tank and the doors to the Jeeps. A few additional gunshots followed, but it was quick.

  “All of it. Everything you can. Don't leave anything behind. Even if it's covered in blood.”

  It should have been him, she thought. Inside her mind, she asked her father to forgive her for truly wishing someone to be dead. Part of her was certain her father wouldn't disagree. It was an ugly thought to have, even toward someone she felt deserved the fate.

  “Theia, help us carry these supplies,” the leader ordered.

  For the first time, Theia shut off her mind. Once she turned around, she felt nothing anymore. Not heartbreak, not longing to be rid of her circumstances, not even fear. She headed straight for the tank, which was closest to her, and lifted a box one of the adults handed her, then moved her feet back toward the slope.

  Once everyone was situated in their vehicles, everyone drove back. Several of them split off, headed to different parts of the city.

  Upon arrival back to the church, Theia crawled out of the car. “Get up,” said Zoey, whoever that was. Theia knew nothing anymore. Zoey lifted Theia herself and carried most of Theia's weight back to the building. The doors were locked behind them.

  “Find what you need for your friend. You earned that much,” said Marcus.

  “What friend?” she asked, her eyes half shut.

  “Your friend that needs the inhaler. I'm sure we have one somewhere among the supplies. Hurry up though. My men usually throw out what they think we don't need.”

  Theia found her way into a Sunday school room where all the supplies were being dumped and sorted through. For sure, the center vehicle was carrying nothing but miscellaneous junk. To Theia, it was all junk. Even the weapons, even the first-aid kits, all of it. “Is there an inhaler anywhere?”

  “Find it yourself,” she heard one of the elite kids say to her.

  One of the adults stood and approached her with an inhaler. “Here,” the man said, but Theia said nothing in response. Her hand took
the object, as if acting on its own.

  First, Theia dragged herself to her room and took the pillow from her bed, then she went to the sanctuary, forcing the doors open. She found Matt in the far right corner as expected, and merely tossed him the items she carried. Though he smiled, Theia simply turned away and left. It happened so fast, none of the kids inside made any attempt to leave the room while the doors were open. Theia stumbled back to her room, thankful to close the door behind her and find solitude. The window was directly ahead, but she didn't see it. Escape wasn't an option anymore. She was trapped. All Theia could bring herself to do was collapse onto her mattress, close her eyes, and hope she'd never have to open them again.

  JAMES

  For the first time, he had to treat his own wounds. He was thankful it was only him, rather than his beloved wife, who was there aiding him. James' wound was not grievous enough for alarm. Fortunately, there was not much to deal with. Candace followed his instruction as she removed the shrapnel from his right shoulder, then held a cold, wet rag to it. “Your shaking's gone down,” he told his wife, holding the hand keeping the rag in place.

  “I'm getting used to it.”

  They had been getting ready to sleep when the shelter was attacked. With the first floor being the first target, they had had little warning of what was happening. At the first sign of the intrusion, they had gone straight to the closet, without first attaining anything to use as a weapon. Both had forbidden themselves from being armed since placing themselves under Isaac's authority, particularly with firearms. The death of another person, of another creation of God, was unthinkable.

  The closet proved safe enough. Three men, at minimum, had broken into their home, and when they saw no one inside, they had assumed it was unoccupied. James figured they were not used to encountering no resistance. Even when the men had departed, James and Candace remained hidden, until they heard no further commotion from outside. At the end of it, their first move had been to check the damage to the shelter and its people, and they had walked into the courtyard to find everyone screaming at each other, including Isaac. And then Seth was chastised for abandoning his comrades. If only Isaac was more understanding. he thought.

  Three days until Christmas, he noted. Apart from being his favorite holiday, he was particularly excited for it because he had been preparing a special present for his wife. Nothing fancy or luxurious, but something heartfelt he hoped she would treasure for the rest of her life.

  Turning toward her, smiling, he asked, “How are you feeling? I noticed you're not coughing as much today.”

  “I felt a lot better when I woke up.” Her words made James smile. “I can breathe without my throat feeling like a cat's scratching it.”

  James offered to hold the rag there himself so that he could turn to face her. “You're finally healed,” he joyfully exclaimed. “I think this calls for a celebration!” Candace always knew James to get excited easily, but he was never the type to make a scene of it. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, then went to retrieve something. His glee was apparently not mutual, for Candace only grinned slightly and lowered her head. James returned without his makeshift bandage, and instead held his guitar, which he had not once touched since coming to Isaac's shelter.

  “Well, look at you,” said Candace. She joked, “Are you gonna write a song in honor of my recovery?”

  James chuckled. “Well, I'll play a song. I'm afraid I'm not so good at writing them. I'm gonna thank God for healing you.”

  “What are you gonna play?” asked Candace as she leaned back on the couch.

  James thought for a moment. “Good question. How about “Above All”? That's your favorite worship song, isn't it?”

  Candace laughed a little. “I forgot I told you that. It's been ages since I've heard it.”

  The guitar was quite out of tune. James used the best of his memory to recall the necessary pitch of every string. He feared that the instrument's lack of use after months would snap the strings as he adjusted them one by one. “I'm no pro at playing,” he admitted, though Candace had already known. “But I do remember some chords.” He strummed it once he thought it was ready. Then, the problem was remembering the tune of the song he wanted to play. “How did it go again?”

  “'Above all powers, above all kings...'” sang Candace. James had even forgotten how beautiful her singing voice was. “'Above all nature, and-”

  “'-all created things,'” they sang together. James tapped his foot in the slow beat of the song and his fingers played the strings accordingly on their own. “Let's go outside?” suggested James, breaking the flow.

  Candace shrugged. “Sure,” she replied.

  They did just that. James was already dressed warmly, but Candace first went to put on an extra sweatshirt. The courtyard was virtually empty, apart from two or three of Isaac's men who continued to carry bodies out of the premises. They sat on the cleanest bench out there, James surveying the building that surrounded them. In his heart he hoped the people of the shelter would listen to their songs and find some peace in them. He had not heard any music played there since they arrived.

  “I hope it doesn't rain,” said Candace.

  “Indeed,” said James, smiling at her. His mind continued to gloat on seeing her so healthy. He strummed a few strings before getting back to the song, decidedly restarting the whole thing. “'Above all powers,'” they sang together... It was about three minutes of pure solace and peace. They forgot everything, including the freezing cold that made James' fingers start to stiffen.

  The men disposing of the corpses shot dirty looks at the couple after throwing out the last body. When they finished the song, Candace paused. “That's an interesting line,” she said. James wondered which line she meant. “What can we understand as humans?”

  “You mean the line 'above all wisdom and all the ways of man?'”

  Candace affirmed.

  “Very little, I guess. We try to understand God and always fall short.” He continued to strum. With every chord played, he felt more at peace.

  “That song came out around the same time as September Eleventh and Columbine. You remember that? We were still in college.”

  James nodded. “Columbine happened in Ninety-Nine, right? Yeah... I remember that time. I don't think I heard that song until a while after Nine-Eleven.”

  Candace looked up at the cloudy sky. “I was still pretty shaken up for a couple weeks after the attacks. I heard that song on the radio and it made me feel better... When will the world stop this...., this senseless cruelty? Why do we do horrible things to each other? My cousin went to school not very far from Columbine. My mom was in New York when Nine-Eleven happened. Just... It never ends, does it? Why does God allow all of this? Is it really just to test us?”

  James pondered the question. “I don't think it's to test us. Maybe He allows it to wake us up. We always had it so well here, whereas in other parts of the world, little girls are sold as prostitutes, and there isn't any clean drinking water... I think they're wake-up calls.”

  “So, like the song goes? 'Above all wisdom, and all the ways of man.' We were never meant to understand it all?”

  James could not ignore the vibe he got from talking to Candace. She could just be sad about the way the world is, he thought. She's never let if affect her like this, though... “Faith is important. The apostle Paul talked about faith a lot. We just need to trust God.”

  “God let Job's family die just to win a bet with Satan.”

  Her words were shocking; almost harsh, as if directed at him. He had never known Candace to question her faith either, and she had virtually just admitted her doubts. “Candace...” he said lovingly, now putting his guitar aside. “Is there anything you want to talk about? Looks like there's something on your mind.”

  She looked toward the gate, which was now being guarded by two men. She shook her head. “Do you remember last night, seeing all that killing? Isaac doesn't have a problem killing people. Sometimes it looks li
ke he enjoys it. Why are we here, living under someone like that? Why don't we just leave?”

  “Where would we go? Our families are over twenty miles away. We couldn't make it out of the city the first time, so how could we escape a second time? If the soldiers don't shoot us first, some gang will. Isaac is keeping us safe.”

  “I thought you had faith in God,” said Candace, her words colder than the wind chilling them. James tried thinking of a reply, but did not know where to begin. “You've made us live with a monster.”

  “We're tasked by God to obey our leaders, even if we disagree with them. They have been put in authority over us, and we have to accept that. These people here in the shelter, especially Isaac... they're all lost. It's our place to guide them.”

  “What if we're just as lost as they are?” Candace stood abruptly. She gave James a moment to collect his guitar before she walked back toward their apartment.

  James tried to catch up to her, but Candace's pace ahead of him seemed entirely intentional, so he stayed a few steps behind. When they came back home, Candace took off one of her sweaters, then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. James watched her, wondering. After consuming a full cup in a matter of seconds, she looked in the sole cupboard that held their food. Among all the cans, there was nothing to eat that did not require them to light a fire first, so she ignored it. “What's bothering you, love?” he could not help but ask. “Is it where we are? Would you rather live somewhere else in the city?”

  “No,” sighed Candace. “I'm fine, honey. Sorry... Sorry I'm being like this.”

  James approached her. He embraced her closely, holding her for a minute. “Seems like there's something you're not telling me. Ever since I found you, I feel like you've been trying to avoid me. I know you've been sick lately, but... I don't know. It's just a feeling I'm getting.”

  Candace made a smile that couldn't have looked more fake. Before looking at the floor, she said, “I'm fine. I promise.”