The Last Revenant (Book 1): The Crash

by J. S. Carter

  “You never really get used to it.”

  I spun around to meet the voice, a younger middle aged woman with a small pack slung around one shoulder and a holstered sidearm that rested on her hip. Loose, platinum blonde wisps of her hair fell down to her chin on one side of her face while the rest was tied back. She looked strong and carried herself exactly like Chris had, as if she were ready to fight the world at a moment's notice, but I knew she was different. I opened my mouth, yet she was already one step ahead of me.

  “You're safe, Tess, a few miles West of Arrino.” She tilted her head at the heaping crowds down below us. “Welcome to Tent City.” She passed me by and walked into the tent without bothering to say anything else.

  I stared back at the shifting mass down below. I had no idea what was going on, a feeling all too familiar and one that I had been struggling with for longer than I liked to admit. As soon as I had woken, no other thought pervaded my mind; I was running again. I had gotten so used to distancing myself from my problems that I didn't even have to think about it anymore, yet now I thought about it. Looking down at the evidence strewn up in front of me, it was obvious that I couldn't have been the only survivor to make it out of Arrino, but there was also more. A lot more.

  I tentatively shuffled back into the tent to see the woman lean over a cot and pull small, tightly wrapped bundles from her pack. It made me notice the familiar metal guards mounted on her forearms. I had seen the same intricate engravings on the man who had saved me from Juno. I thought back to what he had been able to do to her body, how he had kept her still, how he had thrown us both from the ground without lifting a single finger, and I knew what he belonged to. They were supposed to be our ultimate peacekeepers and protectors, yet I had just stolen from one. I glanced at the wrapped swords under my arm and then back at the woman in front of me before finally letting go of the thought. “You're a Knight...”

  She took me in for a moment but finally nodded without giving my crime any thought. She held out an open hand and introduced herself as if she were meeting an old friend for the first time. “Olivia.”

  I didn't move. Every kid in my life had grown up listening to the stories of the Knights, the exceptionally talented Paranormals who were taken away at a young age to train and hone their skills, but only the very best made it through the transition. They were treated as distant war heroes and master negotiators, while we had only looked up to them as if they were secret superheroes, special agents, and psychic detectives all wrapped up underneath a worn leathery coat accompanied by swords and firearms, the epitome of cool by any ten-year-old's golden, imagination-infused standards.

  They were well respected, some even adored, though everything they did was shrouded in mystery. Even when the first Paranormal protests had grown violent, nobody had dared label them as Seditionists. It was clearly understood that Knights fought for the people, they died for the people, and even though not much was publicly known about the innards of their organization, it was obvious that they would be able to kill for the people extremely effectively if necessary. So was I a threat? Or would she protect me?

  She seemed to understand the trepidation and didn't give it a second thought. “I figured you'd wanna change.” She held up a bundle of clothes for me to take and I didn't understand why.

  I looked back down at myself and remembered I was still covered in dry blood. What was left of my own clothing had been caked in it, stained, ripped, cut, and burnt. It was remarkable I was still alive given the obvious signs laid out in front of me. I must have seemed nothing less than a wild animal.

  I put the thought to the side and pushed forward. “How'd you know my name?” The tents I had seen outside all looked familiar. Some must have come from Camp Maxwell but most from somewhere else. Wherever Olivia had been, she was much more important than I would ever be. It begged to question how she even knew me.

  She seemed to pause for a moment before pulling out a small leather bound book from her back pocket and held it up for me to see.

  My journal.

  I slowly fell into a cot and stared at it, stunned.

  She held the book out for me to take but lowered it when I didn't move. “I needed to know. I'm sorry.”

  I thought I had lost it. It had been with me since almost the beginning and I had managed to scribble down entries whenever I had gotten a chance. Putting my past down into words had helped me cope, but I had never once thought that someone else would read it. To realize another person had peered into the deeper, more emotionally riddled facets of my mind was nerve wracking, not at all in the least when it was someone who could lead an entire army. I tried to ignore the feeling. I still didn't know where I was. The last thing I could remember was flying through the air. “How'd I get here?”

  “One of our men found you on their patrol.”

  I struggled to understand the implications. I sure as hell hadn't walked myself out of Arrino. Someone must have carried me. My thoughts fell onto the man that had saved me from Juno. The Knight's guards and cut stubble reminiscent of blue eyes had been so familiar. I didn't understand why or how, but he had been in the witch's memories. A pang of jealousy sprouted up through my belly as I remembered how she had cared for him, how she had whispered his name softly and ran her hand across his skin—and how he had paid her back by stabbing her through the chest with a sword.

  Olivia gently tapped her palm with the side of the book while I remained still. “We've been on the road for a while...” The words almost sounded forced, as if she knew I could barely pay her any attention. She gave the idea up and changed gears, the rhythmic tapping coming to standstill as she got closer. “Tess... I think I can help you.”

  I glanced up to see her almost hurt. She might have read my journal, but I had only gotten the chance to write everything up to Chris' death. There was no way she could understand the truth of the matter.

  “You can't...” I spoke softly and cut myself off, the words automatic more than anything. We both knew it was wrong the instant it had come out. I had just met her, yet she probably knew me better than anyone else.

  “I know what you are.” She took a seat on the cot in front of me and my heart began to flutter. Whatever the discussion would lead to next was up to her. She took me in for a few more seconds before looking back down at the secrets in her hands. “You're a Paranormal, but you practically omit everything that points to it every chance you get. You've been hiding it from everyone. You've been trying to keep a secret from yourself even when you know you can't. It's been tearing you up inside.” She waited until the correct words seemed to formulate into a thorough understanding of everything that she could comprehend—the cherry on top of my flawed suffering. “You're scared.”

  It hurt to feel the truth, yet she wouldn't stop.

  “You hide any real details about your family. You tell your past like it's a story, but you jump between memories without any real direction. You think the world is ending when it's not.” She paused for a moment, then finally drove all the pain home in one swift movement. “Tess, your whole view of the world—what's happening—it's wrong.”

  I couldn't believe she had said it. To hear a complete stranger slander my efforts as a writer was bad enough, but to hear a Knight say everything I knew was wrong? I shook my head. The words I had written could only explain so much. She was never there. “You don't know—”

  “I know it's not your fault.”

  The words never came. I could only look. She was still sitting on her cot, her demeanor as calm as can be while all my defenses were down. She could see me for who I really was and she took the opportunity to attack me wherever it mattered most. She was taking me apart, piece by piece, from the inside out.

  “I know...” She started gingerly, “When you moved out of the city with your family, you secluded yourself from the outside world. You became isolated. You had no way of knowing what was really going on. Then you wound up in Arrino and it only reinforced exactly what you were g
oing through, but none of it's your fault. You've been blaming yourself for things that have nothing to do with you.”

  I felt like a little kid getting berated by the most well respected teacher in their school. People like that never had to yell. They didn't have to put you down. They simply reminded you what you were capable of and let the rest speak for itself. Their disappointment spoke volumes more than anger ever could. I watched Olivia hold my journal out for me again and she looked relieved to see me take it back. I gently rubbed the side of my finger against the spine and wondered where it had all gone wrong.

  She looked down at the book again and thought about it. “You should keep it. Don't get rid of anything, just add on to what you already have. There's a good reason everything in there is the way it is. You shouldn't have to censor yourself, but if you do, then leave it and understand why. Everybody changes on their own and your writing should reflect that. Don't go trying to change the past when you still have so much left to look forward to.”

  The thought of adding any more of my recent memories onto those pages was the last thing on my mind.

  “What happened to your family?”

  My gaze fell over her shoulder and I opened my mouth, but it still hung on by a loose thread. I couldn't talk about it. I had to change the subject. I looked around and realized I was still holding on to her bundle of weaponry. It would be much more lethal in her hands. I held it out for her. “I think these are yours.”

  She didn't make a move for it but rather decided to study me instead. “You were gonna make a run for it.”

  Maybe.

  I put the swords to the side. What good would running to survive another day do for me if I had no idea where I was going? Was that why she was talking to me? Did I come across as some sort of ex junkie who was threatening to hurt myself? Had she caught me just before I took my next hit? I let out my best sadistic grin without even realizing it and mocked the all too familiar quoted optimism. “I'm no good if I'm dead, right?”

  Hang in there, I'll get it eventually?

  Work myself stiff, fight off the world, pull myself up by my bootstraps and I'd get my twenty-seven Oscars, my five minutes of fame. It was a lie that we had all convinced ourselves into believing was true. Only the smart ones took advantage of us for it.

  “You're not alone, Tess.”

  I stared into her eyes as she let the words sink in and it was remarkable how simple yet effective they had become.

  She leaned over and planted a finger on the top of my journal, more adamant now, but never upset. “You wrote about it yourself. Did you really think when a piece of an asteroid broke off and hit Chicago that nobody felt like they were some of the last people on the face of the earth? You can literally be surrounded by millions of other human beings in every direction and not have to deal with death, and still think you're alone—but you can't. You shouldn't.”

  Or what? Bad things happen?

  Of course I knew, but she wouldn't stop.

  “The story you opened up with, the piece about the little girl...”

  Zoey.

  She had been one to die among thousands, yet millions of people had seen the footage around the world.

  “Her death resonated with a certain crowd. It affected everyone, but not in any way I think any of us were expecting. After the first riots, a man pretending to be Knox took credit for them. He turned it into a movement and blamed the Paranormals because he was angry. He used them as a scapegoat for all the other problems that we've had. Anyone that went against the movement—especially Paranormals—became Seditionists. It really didn't matter what they were called. It was just a label, but it worked. A lot of Seds were killed. A lot of innocent people died.”

  I already knew the story, so why was she telling it to me again? I could practically feel the remorse pour out of her skin as she stared away for a brief second, the past instantly catching up to her.

  “But the world never ended, Tess. It just changed. When the rest of it came, the power went out. We couldn't communicate. Most people got it back, but by then others took it as further evidence that what they were doing was right. They got stronger. They fought back. The military was ordered to pull out from most of the central and southern states where the opposition was the strongest. It was a perfect storm. People were killing and manipulating each other because they were afraid, because they felt alone. That's what you saw. That's what you wrote down.”

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I knew there had to have been a reason for the sudden vacuum of power that I had witnessed, but I had never thought that it could have been so cut and dry. Camp Maxwell and other places just like it hadn't been destroyed nor the people from within driven off, they had been abandoned. “You left us?”

  “No, that's not...” She started up again but had to take a breath. She got up and paced around the room before finally turning around. The thought obviously weighed a lot on her. “Pockets of resistance were popping up everywhere. They were taking pot shots at their own relief efforts when the brass finally made the call. They didn't want us to shoot back at our own people. They were right—”

  “No.” People like Ryan and Kyle, they weren't anyone worth saving. “You're wrong.” I stood up and barely noticed as my journal sprawled over onto the ground. “You have no idea.” She didn't know what it was like to watch people she cared about die right in front of her, to feel something as far reaching and complex as a life extinguish right in front of her eyes like a flame from a candle in the middle of nowhere because we had been abandoned. She didn't know. She couldn't have. “You left us...”

  Without anyone there to help, others had taken advantage. They had exploited us for all we had. It had started way before the riots, before the hate transitioned onto the Paranormals, but it only blossomed when we waited for our invisible knights in shining armor to come rescue us. We had fooled ourselves into believing that the solution would fall out of the sky. Others had taken advantage of us and without anyone there to stop them—without us brave enough to stand up for ourselves—we had suffered. And they had watched the whole thing.

  Olivia only stared back while I could feel my heart race. She started slow and soft, her words delicate yet precise as if poised on the edge of a pin. “I have to follow orders, Tess, but that doesn't mean I don't think about the people that still need our help every single day. And you're right. We left them.” She pointed to the side, towards the field of tents and the crowds of moving masses that I had seen earlier. “But you didn't. You fought for them even after you escaped. You knew you couldn't leave them behind. You knew they were still worth fighting for. It's the reason you came back. It's...” She hesitated for a moment, the thought eventually making its way through in perfect clarity. “It's the reason Kyle is still alive.”

  I could feel my jaw work the familiar motions, but nothing came through except the vivid image of a bloody knife pressed up against his throat. I had never gotten the chance to write anything after Chris' death. She shouldn't have known. “Who—”

  “Nobody.”

  Then how...?

  She slowly reached into her front pocket to pull out the answer, a small silver ring. “Whenever someone experiences an event that leaves a lasting impression on them, a little piece can get left behind. Even non-Paranormals can unconsciously attach it to anything close: jewelry, furniture, a book—it doesn't matter.”

  She rolled the piece in between her fingers. “We call them artifacts. When a memory becomes attached like that, it's imprinted in your point of view. It can be hard to understand what really happened, but it gives you an insight that would otherwise be impossible, to experience what somebody else has as if you were the same person.”

  The necklace.

  Olivia had described the feeling exactly. The explanation was almost surreal. I had been able to see Emma's past because she had been wearing the heart pendant. But if that was true, then that also meant the same thing could have happened to me. My eyes fell onto
the open pages of my journal and then back to the strong Paranormal in front of me, the truth clicking into place. “You saw everything...”

  She didn't make any sign, but she didn't have to. My journal had been with me the whole time. If it had somehow gotten hold of my memories, then Olivia could have seen everything. She didn't even have to read it. She knew what I had gone through. She knew about Chris. She knew about Juno.

  I took a step back from Olivia without even realizing it. I never thought I could feel so betrayed by someone I had just met. “You knew about Emma and you didn't even say anything.”

  “Because none of that matters right now.”

  What?

  How could someone like that not matter?

  She took a step towards me with a raised hand and I backed off. “Just think about it, Tess. This isn't about me, Juno, Chris, or Emma. This is all about you and everything that you've been through. Nothing else matters if you keep blaming yourself for everything that happens. You feel alone. You're angry, but you're only gonna end up hating yourself. You'll either end up getting hurt or you'll take it out on someone else. People like Emma and Kyle, they'll use it against you. They'll manipulate you. You have to see that.”

  There was too much to think about. Everything had happened so quickly and now I was expected to just sit and think things through? My body only wanted to react, to run, to fight, to live. I didn't have enough time to think. I took another step back and swiped at Olivia as she tried to put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Tess.”

  “Just—leave me alone.”

  “You need to breathe.” She took another step closer and I grabbed one of her swords.

  “Stop telling me what to do!” I brought the blade up in between us and pointed the tip at her throat. Breathe? How? Everything was hot. I felt like I was immediately starting to suffocate in my own skin. My chest throbbed and felt irregular with each passing beat. My hands were shaking, but the metal in front of me kept her at bay.