Eldritch had the room scrubbed, removed all the archaic furniture and overpowering lights. He was going to govern as a citizen, in plain view, protected of course by Captain Ortiz and his men.
“Mr. Eldritch, sir?” Captain Ortiz asked as he entered the room. The tang of cordite and disinfectant still hung heavy in the air, but new furniture had already been moved in. Eldritch sat behind a large, highly polished oak desk, which sat directly in front of a large, semi-circular window. It was odd that Eldritch had never even known the window existed, having been hidden away behind heavy black curtains that covered the walls. Ortiz had cautioned against sitting near such a large window, Eldritch making himself an easy target, but Eldritch insisted. The window provided him with the ability to survey his city, and more importantly, for his citizens to see him, and remember that he was always present in their lives, always watching.
“Is this about the window again, Captain?” Eldritch mumbled as he rifled through a stack of papers. “Because I thought that we had cleared all of that up with the installation of bullet proof glass? Or is there a problem with the Reds?” Eldritch would pretend to love his citizens, but he was a long way off from trusting them.
“No sir,” Ortiz responded. “The window is acceptable now. We have reports of Reds moving on the outer edges of the cities, but they’ll be sanitized soon.”
“Then what is it, Captain?” Eldritch’s Em-Pak chirped. He was growing impatient.
“There is still a small pocket of Council supporters holed up in one of the outer cities,” Ortiz answered. “They have a very visible position, so I think it would be prudent to try to get them to surrender without a show of overwhelming force. A public execution might have some unwanted effects.”
“Hmm, yes, I guess that would be best,” Eldritch nodded. His transition to power had been relatively smooth, but some small bands of people still stupidly clung to the old ways of doing things, insisting on the creation of a new Council. But their refusal to accept Eldritch’s authority would be their undoing as well. “No need for violence, Captain, at least not yet. Have we determined who this rebellious lot is composed of?”
“Some sir,” Ortiz nodded. “We have them under surveillance. They don’t appear to be making any major plans, not really doing more than barricading themselves in a small ERC office.”
“Names, Captain,” Eldritch grunted. He waved his hands impatiently.
“We have positively identified two people within the office,” Ortiz answered. “One is a low level assistant named Brian Christopher and the other is Assemblywoman Toni Marsh.”
“Marsh? Really?” Eldritch chuckled. “I didn’t think that woman had the sand to do something like this. Shame really, she could have been useful.” Eldritch moved to the computer atop his desk and began punching keys. “Perhaps, she will still be able to contribute to the cause.”
“Anything further, sir?” Ortiz asked.
“No, I think we’re good now, Captain,” Eldritch said absently. “With Marsh and her aide’s Em-Paks turned off, they’ll take care of that little pocket of resistance for us. Just have your men on standby to clean it up.”
“Understood,” Ortiz grunted.
“Oh, and Captain,” Eldritch looked up from his computer, “one more thing.”
“Yes, sir?” Ortiz stopped at the door.
“No survivors,” Eldritch stated coldly.
“Understood, sir,” Ortiz saluted and left the office.
-25-
Cora led the others from the camp back towards where she and Remmy had been ambushed. Xander meandered down the trail beside her, not out of a sense of concern, but more out of boredom.
“This is what happens,” Xander mumbled as he walked next to Cora. “I could have told you that this would happen. Nothing good is going to come from being outside the city walls.”
Cora turned a fiery glare on her brother. “Are you serious? Right now, Xander? Of all times to be a jerk?” Cora snapped. “Remmy saved my life and all you can say is I told you so? Why the hell are you even here if you care so little?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Xander shrugged. “I can’t sit in that smelly tent all damn day. Looking for your little boyfriend at least gives me something to do for a while.”
“Just go away,” Cora barked. “I don’t need your help. Remmy doesn’t need your help.”
“Whatever,” Xander said flatly. He turned off the trail and began walking through the woods. “Remmy doesn’t need anyone’s help…because he’s probably dead.”
Cora ignored her brother’s words. She was out here to find Remmy, not fight with Xander.
“Should we follow him?” one of the camp guards asked.
“No,” Cora shook her head, “Xander is a lot of talk, but he’s not stupid and won’t go too far. He’s got no idea how to survive out here alone and has no idea where he is.”
“Okay,” the guard said with more than a little concern. “Even so, maybe we shouldn’t let him get too far out of sight.”
“Good idea,” Cora responded. “I just don’t want someone who should be looking for Remmy to be wasting time babysitting my bratty little brother.”
The rest of the walk was done in silence, everyone listening for Remmy, Reds, or both. The woods were silent, expect for their usual noises. How could birds sing at a time like this, Cora wondered? How could their songs sound so happy when things were so wrong? Hadn’t the world noticed that Remmy was missing? These questions and countless others whipped through Cora’s insides like shards of glass caught in a windstorm. By the time she arrived at the spot, Remmy had made his stand. Cora felt as if her insides were little more than a tattered tangle of ribbon, the pieces of herself, only recently fit together, now frayed and torn apart.
A large dark spot covered the ground. Numerous sets of footprints circled the area. A rock, smeared with clotted blood sat discarded near the tangled bramble that edged the small clearing.
“Looks like the kid put up one hell of a fight,” one of the other Emos said to Remmy’s father. “I’m sorry.”
Remmy’s father tried to say something, anything, but the words, fragile and only partially formed broke apart and lodged themselves in his throat. A wet choking sound was all he seemed capable of producing. Remmy’s father fell to his knees, his head on the ground and shoulders heaving as he sobbed.
Cora knelt down and touched the stain. The ground was still wet. She looked at her fingers, red and gritty. Was this the last memory she would have of Remmy? How could fate be so cruel to allow the memory of Remmy’s kiss to be followed by something so terrible? How was this fair?
Three men helped Remmy’s father from the ground and promised to keep looking for his boy, but right now, they thought it was best if he went back to the camp. They would stay out here all night if they needed to. Remmy’s father nodded. As she walked past, the bloodshot eyes of Remmy’s father momentarily met Cora’s. His eyes were ringed in red and shot with veins. He suddenly looked frail, as if a sudden breeze might carry him away.
“I’m sorry,” Cora said in little more than a whisper. She waited for Remmy’s father to yell, blame her, and tell her that his son never would have been out here if not for her. This was her fault. She had killed Remmy. Cora waited but it never came.
“Don’t,” Remmy’s father’s voice cracked. Cora was unsure if he meant don’t even try to apologize or don’t even speak to him, but he continued. “Don’t blame yourself, Cora.”
“But I…” Cora’s words pained her and refused to be spoken. “If I hadn’t…” Tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Remmy’s father pulled Cora into a hug. She tensed, unsure of what this meant, but relaxed as the man began to sob. “My son loved you. I could see that. Thank you for giving him that gift. Thank you, Cora.”
“Remmy loved me?” Cora asked, her words trembling and voice cracking. In that moment, Cora realized that what she had felt near Remmy, holding his hand, kissing him, must have been love.
That strange and terrifying, but completely addictive and wonderful rush of emotions was love. Remmy loved her. She loved him. Now, she would never be able to tell him.
Cora and Remmy’s father walked back to the camp in silence.
-26-
A dull thrum-thrum-thrum radiated through Remmy’s head in waves. His eyes were swollen, but he forced them to open to half slits. Had his entire body not been racked with pain, he would have believed that he was dead, but there was no way he was dead, not when he felt this awful.
Golden rays of sun filtered in through a rusted corrugated metal roof. Large motes of dust danced in the dappled sunlight, but Remmy shared none of their lightness or mirth. The Reds had taken him somewhere, but where? Why hadn’t they killed him? Remmy pondered these questions, knowing that he was no closer to providing an answer than he was to getting out of this disgusting shack that served as his prison.
Willing the pain out of his head, Remmy tried to clear his thoughts and form some idea, some plan. There was very little in the shack. It was really nothing more than a small wooden square cobbled together out of discarded bits of wood, pallets mostly, and a rusted sheet of metal for the roof. No windows and one door left Remmy with very few options. The dirt floor was hard packed, but maybe he could dig his way under a wall. At least the Reds had left his arms and legs untied. They weren’t expecting Remmy to escape.
Remmy cast glances into the murky corners of the shack. Three were empty. One held a rumpled pile of old clothes. Remmy figured someone had used it as bedding. His body screaming in protest, Remmy forced himself up from the dirt floor and shuffled over to inspect the tangled pile of rags. Maybe, just maybe, there was something he could use. Remmy grabbed the corner of what looked to have once been a large flannel shirt and tugged. The pile resisted for a second, as if it were glued to the floor, but then came loose with a sound of kindling tumbling to the floor.
“What the hell?” Remmy muttered. Why would there be a bunch of sticks wrapped in old clothes? His sore brain slowly pieced together the image displayed in front of him in the dim light. The clothes were stuck to the ground, a dried puddle of gore and bits of leathery flesh holding them in place. It was bones. Remmy was holding the remains of the last occupant of his prison cell.
“Gross,” Remmy gagged as he backed away from the remains.
The door of the shack shook as someone removed the lock and pulled the door open. It stuck, catching the jamb, but was yanked open with incredible force. Remmy was shocked to see a young girl standing in the doorway, framed in the golden hues of the day’s dying sun.
“Sit down,” the girl said, her voice sounded muddled, as if she had to struggle to force out the words.
Remmy thought about attacking her, making a run for it, but the Reds never would have allowed her in here unless others were outside. He might make it past the girl, but that would be it. His victory and life would both be short lived. Left with few other options, Remmy put his back against the wall and slid down onto the hard packed dirt floor.
“You’re from the Emo camp in the woods, right? The one outside of the Stele?” the girl asked. Her words were a little more formed, as if she were regaining her ability to speak.
“I’m not telling you anything,” Remmy snapped. Having a conversation with a Red was strange, but Remmy wasn’t going to tell them anything. There was no way he was going to give the Reds even the slightest idea where his parents and Cora were. He’d die to protect them and figured he probably would have to.
“I’m not really asking,” the girl chuckled. “The question was, um, what’s the word?” She paused and then beamed, “Rhetorical! That’s it! It was a rhetorical question.” She took a few more steps into the shack. Remmy could see a collection of small, wicked looking blades hanging around her waist from a thick leather belt. Small skulls, some from animals, some from children, hung between the blades like trophies.
“Rhetorical?” Remmy laughed in spite of his fear. “That’s a big word for a Red. Honestly, I’m amazed you can string together a sentence, let alone use dictionary words. I thought you Reds were supposed to be raving idiots. No offense, of course.”
The girl let out a chortled laugh. Both her words and laughter sounded garbled, as if it formed in her throat, but was cut to pieces in her mouth. “Yes, well that is what we were taught to think, isn’t?”
“How the hell do you know what I was taught, you troll?” Remmy growled. The fact that the Red used ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ sent acidic knots roiling through Remmy’s stomach. The back of this throat burned and he struggled to swallow.
Another mangled string of laughter spilled from the girl’s mouth. “Because I was taught it as well. Don’t you remember sitting in class next to me? How we used to sneak off at our lunch break to go walk in the fields? Surely, you remember that, Remmy, don’t you?”
Hearing his name caused the fear in Remmy’s gut to blossom with malignant force, toxic vines twisted and wrapped around his innards. The disgusting shack appeared to shift, like a boat gently lolling on waves. “Who…who are you?” Remmy stuttered, but the answer was already pressing down upon him.
“Come on now, Remmy,” the girl said slowly as she sat down across from him. “I know it’s been a while, but you’re going to tell me that you don’t recognize your best friend, Jessica? I thought we were better friends than that, Remmy. Honestly, I think my feelings are a little hurt.”
“Jessica?” Remmy asked. “How? Your family was killed. You were dead.”
“Dead?” Jessica grinned, revealing savagely pointed teeth. “No, not exactly.”
“But how?” Remmy asked, astonished that somewhere inside of this monster was his old friend. She was wild looking, covered in red markings and definitely dirtier than the last time he had seen her, but he couldn’t deny that this was Jessica.
“We’ll get to that,” Jessica smiled. “In fact, you’ll find out first hand.”
“What happened to you? To your teeth?” Remmy asked, choosing to ignore Jessica’s implied threat. He needed to grab whatever bits of information he could. Keeping Jessica talking was the only chance Remmy had.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Jessica smiled as she tilted her head back, opened her mouth and ran her tongue along the wicked little daggers that filled her mouth.
Remmy fought the urge to gasp as he saw the extra row of pointed teeth in Jessica’s mouth. Thoughts of the sharks he had seen in his schoolbooks filled Remmy’s head. He figured that the connection probably wasn’t too far off.
“Stare if you want to,” Jessica grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too when I was first brought here. How could someone file their teeth to look like that? How could they bear the pain? But that’s the best part, Remmy. You don’t have to, it just happens after a while. Even better, you have an endless supply for the Tooth Fairy.” Jessica laughed, she used the point of her knife to flick the extra row of teeth in her mouth. “One falls out and another pops into place. It’s great.”
“No, it’s not,” Remmy protested, “it’s awful. Jessica, how could you let this happen to you?”
“Let it?” Jessica chuckled. “Remmy, it just happens. There’s no more choice in this than there is your hair growing. It’s natural. It’s the evolution of the virus, of the Love Bug.” Jessica paused to laugh again. “My God, remember when we used to call it that? Who would have guessed this is what it does to someone if they survive the first phase.”
“First phase?” Remmy repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“The whole screaming crazy part,” Jessica answered, “that’s just the first phase of infection. We were wrong when we thought that was how the virus left someone. Problem was that most people were too crazy to survive that part, so no one ever saw what was next, but we’ve fixed that. And Remmy, let me tell you, if you survive the first part, it’s amazing. Just imagine never being afraid. Never having to worry again.”
“What do you mean, if I survive?�
� Remmy spat. “I’m not like you. I’ll never be like that.”
“Your choice,” Jessica shrugged as she got up from the floor. “But tomorrow you have a choice to make, Remmy, and I hope you make the right one. The smart one.”
“Choice?” Remmy growled. “What kind of choice could I possibly have?”
“Fight or food,” Jessica grinned. “It’s up to you, because you’re going to do one or be the other.”
-27-
Looking for Cora’s filthy Emo boyfriend was about the last thing in the world that Xander wanted to do. But he couldn’t pass up a chance to get out of the camp, even if it meant pretending to look for Remmy. Why try to find the moron anyway? He had chosen to die and for what? To save Cora? She was a lost cause and Remmy surely could have outrun her. Xander would have. It was simple math. The faster one got to live, the slower one distracts the Reds.
It didn’t matter. Remmy was probably dead or dying and Cora was having a mental breakdown. Xander was free to roam around, so all was right with the world as far as he was concerned. Left in the tent with nothing to do besides plan, Xander kept returning to one idea – the limo. The Emos had buried his mother and the ERC officer, but there was nothing done with the limo. Xander was sure that it was still in the field, slowly rusting in the same spot it had tumbled to a stop.
Somewhere behind him, Xander could hear the steps of an Emo guard, but they were distracted, weakened by emotion and concern. Xander shared none of these shortcomings, and focused on getting to the wrecked limo with the single mindedness afforded him through the small device implanted at the base of his neck.
Ducking into a thicket, Xander waited for the guard to pass. The thorns bit into his skin, but he remained still. Small rubies welled on the exposed skin of Xander’s arms and legs before snaking downward in crooked zigzags. The guard continued down the path, eyes watchful for any sign of Remmy, but blind to Xander.
“So stupid,” Xander grinned as he doubled back the way he had come. He would get to the limo, find what he needed and be back at the camp before anyone realized what was going on.
Love Bug Page 9
