“But why?” Remmy would ask. “How can emotions be bad?”
His parents would smile, satisfied with their decision to defy the ERC. “Emotions aren’t bad, Remmy,” his mother would smile. “Anger is bad. Rage is bad. People used to think that all emotions were dangerous, even love. That’s why the ERC makes people wear Em-Paks, but then, they can’t feel anything.”
“Even love? They think love is bad?” Young Remmy would question.
“Yes, the people living behind the city walls, think even love is dangerous,” Remmy’s mother would continue, “but we know different. All the Emos do and that’s why we escaped from the cities and removed our Em-Paks before we forgot what love felt like.”
“Doesn’t that mean we can get sick too?” Remmy’s eyes would go wide with fear.
His mother would smile and pull him close. “Don’t worry, Rem. There is still danger from the Love Bug, but if we remember to keep our anger from getting the better of us, then we’re safe.”
“But what about the Reds?” Remmy would persist, knowing this conversation would delay his bedtime.
“Well, sweetie,” his mother would sigh, “the Reds are still very dangerous, but we can avoid them.”
“But what are they?” Remmy would almost whisper.
“They were once like us, but not anymore. Not once they became ill,” his mother answered honestly.
“Where are they?” Remmy would gasp.
“No one has ever seen,” his mother would reply. “The Reds are hidden away somewhere and only come out to hunt.”
“They’re wild,” Remmy would add, “like animals.”
“No,” his mother would interject, a serious look on her face. “Never think of the Reds like that. They are dangerous and capable of far more than any animal. They travel in small groups and set traps. The ERC wants people to think the Reds are little more than wild animals, but we have learned so much after leaving the cities, Remmy. The Reds can think and plan. You must never underestimate them.”
Remmy had nightmares about the Reds for much of his early years. His young mind pieced together his parent’s stories to create the terrifying image of red faced, screaming demons that could rise up out of nowhere, snatch him away and eat him. But as Remmy grew older and encountered Reds a few times, he saw that they could be avoided.
Now at the age of sixteen, Remmy had learned to pick his way through the fields carefully, listening for the telltale rumble of a Red’s throat. Hearing this noise, Remmy would drop to the ground or scramble into a nearby tree to wait for the Red to wander past, but there was still a very real reason to fear the Reds.
The morning Remmy awoke to see the Martinez’s tent in tatters was carved into his memory, each line jagged and painful. They had been there only hours before, the entire Martinez family, but all that was left in the morning was a tangled mess of canvas and blood. At first, everyone thought that one of the Martinez family members must have turned and that the Martinez’s missing daughter, Jessica, must have caught the Love Bug, killed her family and run off.
Remmy’s young mind struggled to comprehend how you share dinner with someone, share minutes of your life with them, only to awaken a few hours later and find them torn apart, dead. Was that really how life worked? Could it be that simple? Remmy’s mother had told him that it was and that you never knew when someone’s life could end, so you needed to cherish every moment. This idea brought Remmy no comfort.
The following night, the Red came back. It was one lone child, no older than nine or ten. It wasn’t Jessica. Being alone and so small, it was easy for him to slip past the watch and into the Martinez’s tent. But could one small boy really kill an entire family? Remmy had a hard time believing so, but watching how it took five full-grown men to finally subdue and silence him, left no doubt. Silence him was how Remmy’s mother had explained it to him. That was the only way he could wrap his mind around what he witnessed. At the time, that Red hadn’t been much older than Remmy - it could have been Remmy.
“What happened to Jessica?” Remmy demanded, his thin shoulders heaving up and down, tiny fists balled tight with anger.
“She’s gone,” his father answered simply.
“Where?” Remmy snapped. “We need to find her.”
“Rem,” his father said as he knelt down to look at his son, “no one comes back from where the Reds take them. I know Jessica was your friend, but she’s gone, buddy. I’m sorry.”
“I wish I had killed him,” Remmy growled, shocking his parents.
“No,” Remmy’s mother almost cried. “No you don’t. Don’t say that.”
“Why?” Remmy cried. “Why not? Jessica was my friend!”
“Which is why the others silenced that Red for you, Rem,” his father answered calmly. “We should never kill a Red that killed one of our own. It’s too easy for rage to take hold. What you will do is help bury the Red in the morning.”
“Bury him?” Remmy spat. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you can’t bury Jessica,” his father replied. “It’s how you will learn to let go of your anger. We must forgive the Reds because what they do isn’t their fault. They’re sick, so there’s no reason for us to be angry with the Reds. We can be sad, but never be angry.”
Remmy tried to accept his father’s explanation, tried to believe it. All of the other Emos appeared to live by this rule. In the morning, Remmy buried the Red that killed his friend, shoveling both his anger and dirt into the hole.
That had happened years ago, somehow becoming understood or at least accepted, but never forgotten. Never knowing what happened to Jessica was something that Remmy simply couldn’t explain away.
Remmy quietly moved through the tall grass, pausing when the brush to his left rustled and then breathing a sigh of relief when a large buck bounded out. Things made sense out here, seemed to follow an easily understood order, not like school.
Going to classes had never been something that Remmy enjoyed, but there really was no choice. From a young age, all Emos were taught to control their emotions through meditation and breathing, learning never to become too angry. Remmy found these periods of time to be excruciating. Why spend time inhaling and exhaling, counting seconds in between and focusing on images in your mind? Sure that kept the Emo children calm, kept them safe from the Love Bug, but it also took away from the time they could be enjoying the world. Remmy focused enough in his classes to make his parents happy and to keep him out of trouble with the teacher, but those lessons were never what calmed him. It was these moments, alone in the fields and surrounded by nature, which kept Remmy from becoming a Red. The thought of never being able to enjoy another sunrise was more than enough to keep Remmy’s emotions in check.
The buck leapt effortlessly through the high grass, appearing almost to hang frozen in the air for a few seconds before dropping back into the tangled mass below. Remmy became transfixed by the ease with which the animal moved and found himself stumbling after it.
With one forceful leap, the buck launched itself from the thick underbrush and into the street. Its hooves clicked loudly on the blacktop, sounding oddly discordant and hollow against the high-pitched melody of the bird’s songs. Remmy typically avoided the streets, fearing ERC patrols, but the deer seemed to wait for him, almost beckoning him to follow.
One tentative step onto the macadam and then another, Remmy’s hand trembled as he reached out to try to touch the deer. Its antlers spread from each side, easily capable of harming Remmy, but there was no threat. Remmy’s fingers gently brushed the hindquarter of the buck moments before the throaty roar of a Red and then another and another filled the air.
The buck, sensing danger, sprang forward and dashed into the woods. Remmy turned to see a writhing mass of Reds heading towards him. He had never seen more than two or three together, but now, they were so closely packed together that counting them became impossible.
Remmy turned to run. A strange object hurtled towards him from the other dire
ction. A long sleek black vehicle unlike anything Remmy had ever seen careened towards him. Another mass of Reds could be seen sprinting behind it, their screams drowning out the mechanical protests of the engine as the driver pushed the vehicle to go faster.
Turning back in the direction he had previously come, Remmy dove into the undergrowth and scrambled towards the nearest copse of trees. Thorns and dead branches ripped at his back and arms, but Remmy had no time to think about such minor injuries. He needed to avoid the Reds and to warn everyone in his camp, warn his parents.
A loud crash echoed through the field, followed by the groan of metal twisted to unnatural angles and the scattering of glass. Remmy’s head bumped into the thick trunk of an old pine. Without looking back, he leapt into the branches and climbed higher and higher. Trees were not the perfect hiding place, but Remmy had never seen a Red try to climb one, let alone succeed.
The mangled remains of both the vehicle and the Reds were strewn about the field.
“Must have crashed into each other,” Remmy panted as he steadied himself on a limb. At least the threat was gone. Whoever had been in that long, strange car wasn’t so lucky, but Remmy tried not to think about them.
Then he heard her. A thin wail echoed from inside the twisted wreck. A girl’s voice, desperate for help and raw with pain, cried out to anyone who could hear. Remmy hesitated. There was no way to know who this girl was or if she was ERC. As Remmy saw another tangled mass of Reds cresting the top of the nearest hill, heading directly towards the wreck, those concerns no longer mattered.
Before he knew what he was doing, Remmy had dropped from the safety of the old pine and was heading directly towards the crash.
-4-
The ride to the Stele had been pretty much, what Cora expected. Her brother lost in a video game, her mother ignoring them, looking up only to bark an order or two and Cora silently sitting in the limo, wishing she were anywhere else. She hated the Stele. It was the main city and filled with countless monuments to her grandfather. A large stone slab stood upright in the center of the Stele, giving the city its name. The image of Cora’s grandfather was carved into the stone with an inscription commemorating the date he unveiled the Em-Pak and become an ERC saint. This was where Cora’s father would stand to deliver his speech and where Cora would have to perform for the masses.
Cora knew that her Em-Pak dulled her emotions, so she could only imagine how excruciating a family road trip would have been without one. Moments like these were the fleeting few where Cora was actually glad to have the stupid thing. Otherwise, her thoughts would inevitably wander to contemplating what life would feel like without the Em-Pak. Cora knew that it would be a very short life, thanks to the Reds and virus, but still she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to feel. Would things be different? Did the Emos that her father called terrorists and hated so profoundly really know something she didn’t? Was the risk worth it?
The limo’s soundproof cabin prevented Cora and her family from hearing the cries of the Reds as they closed in on the vehicle. Up front, their security officer pressed the correct buttons to override the guidance system. A machine wouldn’t be able to evade these things. There was no rational pattern to Reds’ behavior, so programming a guidance system to evade them was essentially impossible. All ERC vehicles with clearance to travel between cities were equipped with an override, allowing the security officers to take control, but never had it been used to avoid this many Reds.
The thick glass divider slid down, revealing the security officer’s panicked look. “We’ve got a problem,” he croaked. Seconds later, his Em-Pak chirped loudly and he appeared calm. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Eldritch, I’ll get us through this.” He pressed the button to once again raise the tinted divider, but not before Cora saw a massive knot of people bearing down on their car. They looked wild, screaming and waving crude weapons. Their faces were all set in the same feral expression of rage and washed in crimson hues. Reds.
“Mom?” Cora asked, a note of concern vanishing with a single mechanical beep.
“We’ll be fine, sweetie,” Mrs. Eldritch waved dismissively, using the term of endearment out of habit, not affection. “Just sit back and relax.”
“Don’t be stupid, Cora!” Xander snapped. “They’re just animals. You’ll probably have a full blown melt down if we pass a deer.” Cora’s brother, Xander, was twelve, but had already begun to prepare for his entrance into the politics. He idolized their father and resented the attention he felt was wasted on Cora. If an Eldritch was going to be the head of the ERC, Xander was determined it be him.
The world suddenly felt upended, the laws of gravity momentarily no longer keeping Cora and her family safely planted on the plush leather benches of the limo. A blinding flash of white pain shot through Cora’s mind. Loud shrieks filled the cabin of the limo. Cora’s mind struggled to place the sounds. Were the sounds from the crash? Was it the Reds?
As the limo finished its tumble through the field, Cora realized the sound had been coming from her own mouth. Her head throbbed and her throat was raw. An eerie silence settled over the passenger cabin of the limo. Dappled sunlight danced through the interior, filtered through cracked tinted windows.
“Mom?” Cora called again, the word calling to mind memories of her mother’s dismissive response from moments before. “Xander? Are you okay?” Her brother groaned, but didn’t respond. Cora’s mother was silent. In the front of the limo, the security officer cursed loudly, sliding through shattered glass.
“Ms. Eldritch, stay here,” the officer grunted as he slid out the broken side window. He drew his pistol and quickly scanned the area. “I’m sure that a recovery team is en route. Stay here where it’s safe, there may be more-…” The officer’s words were cut short as two sets of filthy hands clamped over his face and pulled him to the ground. A loud shriek followed by three erratic pistol shots filled the air outside of the ruined limo.
Something banged against the side of the limo. Blood, thick and red began to run down the side of the limo’s door creating the image of a hellish waterfall. It pooled and began slowly to seep further into the vehicle.
Pain radiated through Cora’s body, but another odd sensation filled her mind. Something twisted in Cora’s insides, tightening around her heart and making it hard to breathe.
“Xander? Xander, please,” Cora pleaded. A throaty scream resonated outside of the limo. More could be heard in the distance.
The strange feeling tangling itself around Cora’s insides intensified. Bile burned the back of her throat. For the first time in her life, Cora felt fear.
Cora tried to stifle it, tried to keep her mouth closed, but with no practice, Cora was unable to keep the scream inside.
-5-
A voice in Remmy’s head screamed for him to stop. What he was doing was completely stupid, he knew that it was, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something about the girl’s scream called to him, beckoned to some innate primal urge to protect.
Moments before Remmy dropped from the tree, he watched an ERC officer crawl out from the vehicle. The man drew a pistol and checked the surrounding area, but failed to look on the top of the wrecked limo. Two Reds descended on him, dragging him to the ground, tearing into the soft flesh of his face with hands and teeth. The ERC officer flailed, firing shots wildly. One found its target and dropped the Red to the ground.
The second Red lifted the ERC officer from the ground and slammed him against the side of the ruined vehicle. Screaming wildly, the Red buried its teeth in the man’s throat. Blood gushed from the wound, coating the door of the vehicle.
Remmy had seen blood before, remembered the Martinez family, but he had never seen carnage of this sort, had never been front row to observe the Reds’ violence firsthand. It was overwhelming, like stumbling into the middle of someone else’s nightmare.
The girl screamed again and the Red’s attention was suddenly drawn inside the wreck. More Reds stampeded towards Remmy and the crash s
ite, their screams filling the air. Reds had always been avoided, never fought and Remmy momentarily doubted he had the skills or instinct to kill one, but as the girl cried for help, Remmy’s mind filled with thoughts of Jessica. Had she cried for help? Begged to be let go before the Reds did whatever they had taken her to do? Anger flared in Remmy’s mind and he fought to keep it down. He needed to allow enough to keep his mind sharp, but not enough to overwhelm him. His breathing steadied as he picked up a rock. It was heavy, about the size of a large apple and fit nicely into Remmy’s palm. It would have to do.
The Red knelt down and tried to scramble into the wrecked vehicle. It never saw Remmy coming. Never saw the rock crashing into the side of its head.
Remmy swung the rock a few more times, his hand becoming sore, but his fingers unable to put the stone down. The Red stopped moving, but more screams threatened from a rapidly diminishing distance.
Crawling inside the vehicle required Remmy to wade through a tepid pool of the officer’s blood. Remmy struggled not to vomit.
“Help!” someone called from the rear of the vehicle. “Please help!”
Remmy wiped sweat from his face and peered through the shattered section of dark glass that separated him from the passengers.
“Come on!” Remmy shouted. “We need to go now! There’s not much time!”
The girl shrieked at the red face that looked at her through the divider. Seeing her fear, Remmy suddenly realized that he must have wiped blood across his face.
Love Bug Page 2
