Remnant

by Michael Clements

  Reading it put life back into him. A real food for his spirit. The book not only contained stories of trials, but wise teachings as well. That was one of the many aspects of the Good Book that James adored. He flipped through the pages, beginning with Genesis. He skipped a chunk and landed in the middle of the book of Deuteronomy. When the Israelites were wandering in the wilderness, he thought.

  The place he landed on was only more laws and genealogies, like the books that came before it. God's chosen people experienced a time like this when they rebelled against Him. He could not help but ponder: Are these situations punishments or lessons? Or both? Parents need to discipline their children, but what is the point of that? To learn. So, it's both, he thought.

  America, his home from the day he was born until the day he would die, perhaps had committed terrible sins. God didn't make this happen, it happened on its own; God only knew that it would. He realized how thankful he should have felt to have basic necessities such as clothing, food and water. He had always been able to afford certain luxuries such as heating and air conditioning, machines to clean his clothes with, and a car to go anywhere he wanted. It was impossible to have known how blessed I was until I lost those things. All I have left is Candace. That is all I truly need though, apart from this book, and the One whom it was written about.

  As James scanned through Deuteronomy, a book he, admittedly, never cared much for, he stumbled on one of the last chapters: twenty-eight. The multiple-paragraph section that caught his eye was labeled “Curses for disobedience.” He was almost too afraid to read it, but he read it nonetheless. “'And he shall besiege thee in all thy gates, until thy high and fenced walls come down...'” The passage referred to enemies laying waste to a fortress. What if the devastation comes from within? he thought. He read further.

  “'And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters...'”

  He was taken aback. Words could not express the extent of his shock. The New Testament, he knew, had passages about the importance of love. Christ only taught love, he thought. How could He make people eat their own family? He read further, seeing scripture saying, “'The tender and delicate woman among you, her eye shall be evil... for she shall eat them for want of all things secretly in the siege.'”

  James interpreted this to have the disturbing implication that when people have turned their back on God, everyone will be driven to do malicious things, even toward family. But again, he ever repeated the question in his mind, How could the same God who taught love be the God who would allow families to be driven into cannibalism against each other?

  “You okay, James?” asked Candace.

  He was startled, not noticing that he was breathing more heavily than normal. “I'm okay. How are you?”

  “Still tired,” his wife said, sitting up on her elbows. “What are you doing up so early?”

  James laughed. “What's 'early?'”

  Candace could not help a slight grin. “Good question. Just looks like something's keeping you up.”

  “I think it's because I'm excited.”

  “Excited for what?”

  He smiled, leaning in to kiss Candace on her forehead. “You'll see.”

  James continued reading while Candace sat up with her blanket tightly around her still. She occupied herself by reading as well, but with some other book she had found around the building. Never the Bible. When will she read this with me? he thought. He accepted it as is, but stared at her for a moment, asking questions in his mind.

  In time, Seth woke but did not get up. He was sleeping two feet from Mercy. He wishes he could share her blanket, James thought bluntly. I don't blame him. Everyone needs a companion, and half of us have one. Mercy seemed to be more accepting of Seth in the past two days, allowing him to be more affectionate toward her, but she never returned it. James had seen Seth the past two nights attempt to sleep closer to Mercy, but she did not allow it, no matter how cold the nights grew. When Seth woke, he only rolled over to face Mercy, and watched her sleep. He found that more heartwarming than suspicious. He really cares for her, James thought. Too bad she hasn't noticed. Maybe she doesn't care.

  When Mercy finally woke, about an hour after Seth, everyone was doing their own activity, as usual. Passing time was the only way to pass time. Candace had walked over to the window to gaze at the empty streets. Normally that would be a bad idea, but with the rain to keep all the wolves in their dens, she took advantage of the chance to see the world outside of her own.

  James took hold of his sketches, which he had hidden behind several blocks of wood they had set aside when establishing their barriers. “Hey guys,” he said to them. The other three looked at him immediately, as if shocked to hear someone speak. “Let's sit together. I got a surprise for you.” He went to the center of the room and the others eventually crawled their way there. “Anyone been keeping track of time or dates?”

  No one spoke.

  “It's Christmas today.” He paused to see their reactions, but they displayed little enthusiasm, and it seemed to have nothing to do with their empty stomachs. “I know Christmas has always been a holiday with smiles and gifts... I didn't want to depress you guys telling you ahead of time. I figured you would have kept track of the date if you, uh, truly wanted to know.” He pulled up his sketches, stood and passed one to each of the others. “If it means anything to you, I made these hoping they would cheer you up. Think of them as Christmas presents. Sorry it wasn't anything more luxurious.”

  “What is it?” asked Mercy about hers.

  He looked at her, remembering what he drew immediately: a flower growing out of a street, with blood filling the cracks from where it broke through. “Yours is a flower, but...” He thought for a moment on how to elaborate. “To be honest, I'm not sure what kind of flower it was supposed to be. I drew from memory, after all. Haven't seen a flower in a long time. If I could color it, I would have only colored the blood.”

  “What's the symbolism?”

  James nodded. “The flower is growing up from the concrete as a sort of... symbol. I think you're a beautiful person with a beautiful soul who has been put in a hostile environment but still remains the same person she always was.”

  “But the flower wouldn't have had any color, even if you were able to. Is it dead?”

  “Struggling. Still growing...” said James.

  Mercy smiled. “Thank you. It's beautiful. Encouraging,” she said with heart.

  “Glad you like it. I hope one day I can redo it the way I pictured it. Perhaps paint it.”

  Seth lowered his for everyone to see. He said nothing about it, but James judged from his face that Seth at least liked it. “Yeah, yours is a shield,” James said, feeling somewhat ridiculous pointing out the obvious. “I made it out of Celtic knots partly 'cuz I like them.” He chuckled, but no one found humor in that. “No, I made it out of knots because bonds can be just as strong as a shield. Like rope, or string, or even chains. You're a guardian,” he said directly to Seth. “And you are … bonded tightly with the people you care about.” It was an obvious reference to Mercy, and he hoped everyone caught that.

  “What's yours, Candace?” asked Mercy.

  Candace had set the sheet on the floor, refusing to speak. Mercy did not press the question. James felt tempted to answer for Candace but, she must have her reasons, he thought.

  “I thought to further celebrate the holiday, as much as we can, we should go in a circle and share some of our happiest memories.” There was silence. Everyone lowered their heads. “We've all lost people we love. I know how hard that is. But, even so-”

  “Not you,” said Seth. “You still have Candace, alive and well right next to you.”

  James was gentle but straightforward with his response. “I had family, Seth. Family that I don't know if I'll ever see again. It's just as hard living day to day, not knowing one way or another if your family is still alive.”

  Seth looked away.

 
; “As hard as it is,” James continued, “I think we should share good memories, even if it's with people we've lost, or people we don't know about one way or another.” He waited for a moment. “Anyone?”

  “My niece Haley was born the day I turned fourteen,” said Mercy. “I wasn't all that thrilled about it at the time. I mean, I was excited that we shared a birthday and all... I don't really have one specific happy memory with Haley, I just have... A lifetime, I guess. She was my closest friend. She always made me happy. She liked getting into trouble; a lot more than I did, or even my brothers when we were growing up. She was always a hardass, but I loved her. I even had people start calling me 'Mercy' instead of my full name, Mercedes, just so our names would be more similar.”

  James smiled, though he was the only one. “Thanks, Mercy. I think you'll see her again,” he told her. She nodded slightly. “How about you, Seth? Anything you'd like to share for Christmas?”

  “No. I'm fine.”

  That saddened James, but he accepted it. “I guess I'll share mine.” He looked at his wife with a smile. She looked back at him, though not exactly how he would have liked. “When Candace turned twenty-one,” he said to the others, “we went to Seaside to celebrate her birthday. There was this Hawaiian-themed show on the beach-”

  “James...” his wife said.

  He was caught off guard. “It's not an inappropriate story, Candace.”

  “Just don't.”

  Though reluctant and confused, without questioning her, he put his hand upon her. “Okay. I'm sorry,” he said without knowing what he was apologizing for. After a minute's silence, he asked the others. “So, how do you like your sketches?”

  Mercy genuinely smiled.

  “Look, I don't mean to break up the party...” began Seth. “But the fact remains that … we don't got any fucking food! We have nothing. Barely any tools, barely anything to protect us from intruders, nothing. We can't just sit around and do nothing. I know it's Christmas and whatnot, but I'm tired of starving. I'm tired of just waiting to die.”

  Though it saddened him, James agreed. “I know, Seth,” he said. “What should we do? We can't all split up. Someone's gotta stay behind to hold the fort.”

  Mercy faintly looked up. “I'll go out and look for food.”

  James shook his head. “No. You're in no condition to do anything like that. Sorry Candace, but same goes for you.”

  Seth sighed. “Nobody can go alone, either. And we can't leave the girls here by themselves. Looks like we're stuck. Fantastic!”

  “Why the hell not?” said Mercy. James could sense tension in her voice.

  “Why not what?” asked Seth.

  “Why can't we stay here by ourselves? We can handle ourselves.”

  James gently lifted a hand. “Mercy, with all due respect, if you're not fit to scout, you're not exactly fit to defend yourself. I'm sure Seth didn't mean anything by -”

  “No, I fucking did mean what I said. They can't stay here by themselves.”

  Candace interjected. “Actually, we can. Mercy might not be in the best condition, but I'm fit enough. I can stay alert. Why don't you and James go out and search. If you're not back before dark, I'll assume something happened.”

  James looked into his love's eyes, fearing for her. What if I don't see those eyes again? But he had to agree. It wasn't a good plan, but it was the best plan available. He only nodded, not wanting to verbally agree to anything either way.

  “If Ethan was here, he could go alone for us,” said Mercy.

  Seth angrily turned his body toward her. “Yeah, well... He's not here. The asshole had to go, and we both know why. So, don't even bother bringing him up.”

  “Hey!” James ejaculated. “Calm down, Seth. Speak more kindly. Look, I think it might be best if we take off to find something and come back before it's late. Can we all agree to that plan?” They nodded. “Okay. Now, do we have any extra guns?” Seth knelt down and tossed a small pistol in between Mercy and Candace. “Alright, then. Now, let's head out. Use every minute we got. You girls going to be okay?”

  “We'll be just fine,” said Mercy with a scowl.

  “Be safe, girls. I love you, Candace.”

  She only nodded. Though James felt offended by the mere gesture, he turned to leave, preparing to encounter the worst out there.

  CANDACE

  “You've never held one of those, have you?” she asked Mercy.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Looks like you can't find the trigger. Not to mention, you pointed the barrel at your head when you were checking it.” Candace stepped over to her Christmas gift, which had been laying face-down on the floor where James had given it to her.

  “I'm not an idiot. I'm just making sure the thing works,” added Mercy.

  “By testing it on your face?” She lifted up the sketch without looking at it. Not again... “I can hold the gun if you want.”

  “Have you ever used one of these?” Mercy asked, some agitation in her voice.

  Candace looked up, keeping the sheet close to her chest. She turned and walked back toward Mercy. “I did once.” She decided to say nothing more about it than that. She saw Mercy was balled up under her blanket, shaking uncontrollably. “We'll stay warmer if we stay close.”

  “I'm not James,” said Mercy.

  “True. But at least he has enough sense to keep close to me.” She sat herself against the wall directly opposite of her.

  Mercy lifted her head, glaring at Candace. “Is there a problem?” she asked with a shiver she tried to hide.

  “A lot, actually.” Candace turned her head toward the windows, thinking. “Nothing involving you, though.”

  “You said you've killed someone. Who was it?”

  “I said I've used a gun once. There is some difference there. I only did it because I had to.”

  “Someone tried to rape you?”

  Candace smirked sarcastically, implying 'obviously.' She dropped her head back against the wall she sat against. “He didn't die,” she added. “He did say the pain made him want to, though. I took care of him after I did it. Couldn't pull the bullet out, but by some miracle I did manage to stop the bleeding.”

  “What if it had?” asked Mercy. “Killed him, I mean.”

  “I wouldn't feel bad. Anyone who violates someone like that deserves to die, I think.”

  “But you nursed him after you shot him?”

  Candace shrugged.

  “That night the shelter was attacked,” Mercy reluctantly began, “someone broke into our apartment. He went after Jayden first. I couldn't shoot him. Even when Jayden's life was at risk, I couldn't do it. I can't imagine living the rest of my life knowing I ended someone's life. Before I came to downtown with Ethan, I was hiding in my parents' basement with Haley. Only one person broke in the whole time we were down there. I had this gun ready for him, but I couldn't shoot him. Haley hated me for it. Now I know that if I had pulled the trigger, we wouldn't have lost our food. Which means we wouldn't have left. And Haley might still be alive.”

  Candace felt the cold starting to get to her. Knowing that Mercy never would, she walked over and sat next to her, pulling the blanket over them both. Mercy did not seem to mind. “How'd you take care of the man that attacked Jayden?”

  “Ethan...”

  Candace thought for a moment. “Losing Jayden crushed you. I can only imagine what it was like to lose your niece.” She paused to listen to the people outside their building who were conversing loudly from opposite ends of the street. “If you don't mind me asking, why did you take Jayden in?”

  “He was left for dead. I know it wasn't a good idea, but … how could I not?”

  “There were other kids like Jayden, right? Kids that were being used as fodder? Didn't they need saving too? Why didn't you save them?”

  “I couldn't,” said Mercy.

  “But you would have if you had the chance?”

  “…I would want to.”

  Candace smiled.
At least she has a heart, she thought. “To be completely honest, I'm surprised that compassion you have hasn't killed you yet. It will kill you eventually, though. I can promise you that.”

  “I'm not compassionate toward killers. People who steal food in times like this are the same as killers. It's not that I'm reluctant to take action... I just, don't know what the right choice is. I haven't known right from wrong in so long. If I don't kill, I will be killed and so will my loved ones. It's the reason my family's dead. I didn't kill their killers first. But if I gave in, wouldn't I be the same as them?”

  “Some questions are impossible to answer. Sometimes there is no right answer. Is it unethical to kill a cow so that you can enjoy a barbecue? Did an animal have to die so that you can have a party? Plants are living things too. If we never killed and ate other living things, we would die. So would they, if they did the same. This is the way it's always been, Mercy. Kill or die. We all return to the dirt in the end anyway.”

  “Do we have to kill each other, though? Our own kind?”

  “When the stakes have raised this high... yes. The world has always been this way. Human beings have always been this way. We were lucky to be born in an era when humans aren't so destructive toward each other. We don't have tribal wars anymore.”

  Mercy lowered her head. “No,” she said sadly. “The world's still the same. We were just lucky enough to never have to experience it on a personal level before now. Nations kill each other in much larger numbers. We could level entire cities with a single device, just by a push of a button.”

  Candace agreed, though she regretted to admit Mercy had a point. True. Nothing has changed. We're still the same animals we always were.

  With their shared body heat, Mercy could relax more and she stopped shivering. She turned her head more toward Candace, but still avoided eye contact. “What do you have against James?” she asked.

  I had a feeling this would be brought up, Candace thought. “Are you offended by how I treat him?”

  “Yes,” Mercy put bluntly. “A lot.”