Revenants Series (Book 2): Remnants

by Elisabeth, Lee

  “Food has a way of bringing memories back around again, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We are but vapors,” Howard says, inserting himself into our conversation. “Sooner or later, we’ll all be just a memory carried around in someone else’s heart.”

  Miss Ada turns her keen eyes on him. “How did you get into the ministry, Preacher?”

  He wipes the corner of his mouth with the napkin provided. “I was an addict a long time ago. Heroin,” he admits. “I hurt a lot of people. Saw a lot of friends die.” He looks at Miss Ada. “But I found hope and wholeness in a place I never thought to look before.”

  Yes, Jesus,” Carrie whispers.

  “That’s right,” he says, looking at her proudly. “Once I saw the light, I couldn’t keep living in the darkness any longer. So, I soaked up everything I could. Read the Bible from beginning to end, more than twice. Memorized scripture. I met Carrie at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. She’s the one who planted the seed about starting a church.”

  “And your flock, as you say?” Miss Ada asks.

  Howard smiles. “It started as a church for recovering addicts, but we quickly expanded. We were a city on a hill, a beacon of hope for those who needed it most.”

  “It sounds like you cared a lot about them. Are any of these from your church?” she asks, motioning to the rest of us sitting around the table.

  “Everyone but Aiden and Allyson.”

  “How did y’all find one another?”

  “We met them just outside of Lowell,” I explain. “After we left the shelter in Asheville.”

  “Ah, the shelter. I remember hearing about it on the news. How did that go?” she asks.

  “Terrible,” I admit.

  Miss Ada nods. “I told Fred that would never work. People these days think they’re so smart, but they’re just on autopilot up here,” she says, tapping the side of her head. “When the television still worked, they showed the shelter, and I looked straight at Fred and said, ‘it’s only a matter of time till they’re all dead’.”

  “Well, you were right,” Aiden says, then adds, “Unfortunately.”

  “Nowhere is safe, Miss Ada, not even here,” Howard says. “Let us stay. Let us help you protect this place...protect Fred.”

  She sighs. “I reckon you could stay here a few days. Just until you’re good and rested. We’ll see how that goes before we make any long-term plans.” She pauses, thinking. Finally, she says, “But the basement is off limits. No exceptions.”

  I glance at a door in the far wall. “What’s in the…?” Aiden places his hand over mine, silencing me. “We won’t go near the basement,” he assures Miss Ada.

  After dinner, we help Miss Ada clear the dishes from the table and get Fred ready for bed, before we climb the stairs to select a bedroom for the night. I choose the one beside Aiden’s room.

  “Let’s have a prayer circle tonight on the porch,” Howard says before I have a chance to head inside the bedroom.

  “Prayer circle?”

  “Yes. Given our good fortune tonight, I think it’s worth offering thanks,” he says solemnly. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh. I mean, yeah. Sure.”

  Later that night, after I’ve unpacked my meager possessions and stored them away in the wooden dresser that must have been in Fred and Ada’s family for years, I head downstairs and walk out onto the large wraparound porch. Aiden, Howard, Gus and Larry are sitting in the rocking chairs. Alicia and Lana are sitting on the porch swing.

  “Where’s Carrie and Miss Ada?” I ask.

  On cue, Carrie appears. “Tea, anyone?” she asks.

  Miss Ada follows, carrying a tray of tea and sugar. “I haven’t had a tea party since I was a little girl,” she says with a big smile. “Might as well enjoy one or two more before I leave this sad world.”

  “Now, Miss Ada, I’m sure you’ll have plenty more tea parties to enjoy before all is said and done,” Howard says with a warm smile.

  Carrie works her way around the porch, handing each of us a cup of tea. I try to decline, but she insists I have a cup. I don’t really care for tea. I’m more of a coffee girl, honestly, but I take the cup begrudgingly.

  As we sip the warm tea, Howard begins speaking. “We have been blessed beyond measure this fine, June day. Thank you, Miss Ada, for your generosity,” he says, looking at her. “And we owe the most thanks to the Lord on High, Jesus Christ, for His unfailing love and mercy.”

  “Amen,” Carrie whispers.

  “Amen,” Gus intones.

  “Sometimes we must spend some time traveling through the valley of death, to really appreciate the presence of our Lord. And sometimes, He puts us in the mire so He can pull us out.”

  “Amen.”

  “But we don’t have to be afraid, because we are not alone.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “And He provides. Always.”

  It continues for several more minutes. I find myself fading in and out. Listening some, and other times tuning out. The tea tastes good, but my head feels funny. I must be more tired than I realized. I haven’t been sleeping well. I can’t wait to be in a real bed tonight.

  Aiden leans over. “You okay?” he asks.

  “My head feels swimmy,” I tell him.

  “Mine does too, a little. You want me to walk you upstairs?”

  I smile. Accepting his invitation. He bids me goodnight at my bedroom door, and I collapse across the bed without undressing. It only takes a few minutes to slip into a dark, dead slumber.

  June 7, 2019

  Crawling out of bed the next morning is difficult.

  I head downstairs, expecting to find Miss Ada in the kitchen, cooking her new roommates a southern-style breakfast; instead, I only see Howard and the others sitting around the table. Their solemn expressions don’t forecast good news.

  Carrie looks up when she sees me. Her eyes are red from crying. By the looks of it, she’s been sobbing all morning.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “You didn’t hear the commotion earlier?” Howard asks.

  I shake my head. “I guess I slept pretty hard.”

  “Miss Ada passed away in her sleep last night,” Howard says through a fresh wave of tears. “I heard strange noises coming from their room this morning. When I went to check…” He trails off, unable to continue.

  “What?” I ask.

  “She was attacking Fred,” he says.

  “Attacking him?” I look at Aiden as he appears in the doorway. He’s dirty; he leans a shovel against the wall. “I don’t understand,” I say to him. “What happened, Aiden?”

  “She was a Germ,” Aiden explains.

  “A Germ? But she hadn’t been bit,” I say.

  Howard shrugs. “I can’t explain it…I just know what I saw. Fred was already dead, “Howard says, then begins to weep. “She had been eating on him, God only knows how long. I had to destroy the evil that had taken Miss Ada.”

  I can’t believe it. I can still see the frail woman, sitting in her recliner, talking about working in the corn fields until the economy put them out of business. I can still see her sipping her tea on the porch, looking like a little girl again. She didn’t look sick. She didn’t look close to death.

  “I don’t...where are they now?” I ask.

  “We buried them near the barn,” Aiden says, genuinely shaken.

  “Did you hear anything last night?” I ask Aiden.

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I guess I slept pretty hard, too.” He rubs his temples. “They were already gone and partially buried when I got up.” He looks at me. “I just helped Gus and Larry finish filling in the graves.”

  “Do you have a headache?” I ask him.

  He nods. “I feel like I have a hangover,” he says.

  My head is hurting, too. What are the odds we would both wake up with a splitting headache? Could we be getting sick? Could we be having a reaction to something in the house? “I’m not fee
ling great, either,” I tell him. “Do you think there’s a gas leak in here?”

  Howard stands. “I don’t think so. I feel fine.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe that’s what made Miss Ada…”

  “I think we’re all tired,” Howard says, cutting me off. “And I think Miss Ada was old. It was her time to go.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Carrie is going to start breakfast. Why don’t you go rest in the living room, and I’ll come get you when it’s ready?” Howard suggests.

  I nod and exit the kitchen. I pass by the old couple’s bedroom. I can still smell the powdery scent of Miss Ada and the sterile smell of Fred lingering in the air. I glance inside; the bedroom is spotless, bed made, and windows opened. It doesn’t look a room where two people violently died.

  “Carrie cleaned it all morning,” Howard says over my shoulder.

  I jump, startled. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

  He smiles. “She did a fine job, didn’t she? It’s almost like nothing happened in there,” he says, looking at me.

  “That’s why I was thinking,” I say, not shying away from his pointed gaze.

  “I believe the Lord led us here, Allyson. He knew Miss Ada and Mr. Fred would pass, and He knew we needed a place to rest.” He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in deeply. When he opens them again, he smiles at me. “Jehovah-Jireh, Allyson. It’s as true now as it was thousands of years ago.”

  I’ve heard that term before, but I can’t remember where, or in what context. I shake my head. “I don’t know what that means,” I admit.

  He looks at me with sympathy. “The Lord will provide.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Just like He provided us one another, He also provided this farm. It would be sinful to question, or doubt, such a merciful blessing.”

  “It would?”

  He nods somberly. “Oh, yes. The Lord does not take kindly to unbelief. He can just as easily snatch all of this away. If we take it for granted, it could disappear…just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers.

  He smiles again and turns to leave. I watch him walk confidently back into the white kitchen, where his wife sits, crying, and where he believes he has everything under control…and I’m angry with myself because I almost fell for it. I felt the anxious paranoia filling my veins as he spoke. I felt the fear…like God might have heard the questions in my heart…like I may have truly upset Him; maybe called unwanted attention to myself. Then I hear my mother’s calm voice in my head…reminding me that when something doesn’t seem right, it probably isn’t.

  I smile, despite the fear running through my veins.

  I know Howard killed Miss Ada and her sick husband.

  I don’t know how he did it, and I don’t want to know, but he did and that’s all that matters. They were murdered for their house and their food supply after they had already opened their home to us. I believe the others helped him while Aiden and I slept. I take a last look at Howard and Carrie in the kitchen. Aiden and I didn’t sleep through a double murder.

  There was something in that tea Carrie served last night.

  They drugged us.

  It won’t happen again.

  July 4, 2019

  Despite not having television, cell phones, or any other pre-Germ form of entertainment, time seems to pass just as quickly as it ever did. We’ve been at the farm a month; sometimes it feels like I just attended Miss Ada’s funeral yesterday, other times it feels like I’ve been trapped here twenty years. There are twenty-five souls living on the property now. Every time Howard and his “sons” go on a supply run, they manage to find more wayward survivors to bring home.

  More sheep for the good shepherd’s delusional flock. More audience members attending his nightly prayer circles. Howard likes to hear himself talk; sometimes I don’t even know if he knows what he’s talking about or if he’s just spouting off random Bible verses, hoping one finally sticks. It makes my head spin…vacillating between being sure he’s crazy to second-guessing my limited knowledge of scripture. I have to keep reminding myself that wolves like to wear sheep’s clothing.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” Aiden asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh, nothing much. Just zoning out, I guess,” I lie.

  “If you say so,” he says, smiling.

  We’re sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse, trying to cool off with the help of the evening breeze. Life on the farm never slows down; between taking care of the horse Miss Ada left behind, tending the small garden, washing clothes, and securing the perimeter of the property, there’s barely time to rest until the last rays of sunlight slip behind the mountain.

  “It’s so hot tonight,” I say, fanning myself. I wipe the sweat from my eyes with the hem of my shirt.

  “Too many people in the house, too,” Aiden says. “We’re going to have to start looking for tents on our trips to the valley.” He runs a hand through his black hair. “Howard said he went to down to the basement to see if…”

  “I thought Miss Ada said the basement was off limits.”

  “Well, yeah, but she’s not here to stop us now,” Aiden reminds me.

  “What was down there that was so secret?” I ask, curious.

  “I didn’t go down there with him, but Howard said it was just a bunch of photo albums and antiques. Miss Ada probably just didn’t want us ruining her family heirlooms,” he says.

  I tilt my head back and close my eyes. My shoulders are sore, and my neck feels stiff. I helped Carrie pick row after row of vegetables from the garden today; tomorrow we’ll work on canning the excess. After she teaches me how to can vegetables, that is.

  “You wanna sleep outside tonight?” I ask Aiden. “I mean, it’s not like sleeping in the truck, but it could kind of be like old times.”

  He smiles. “There’s a nice hammock near the barn. Might make a good bed.”

  “You had me at hammock,” I say, smiling.

  We grab our weapons and walk toward the barn. The moon is high in the sky, and the breeze tickles my face as we position our bodies against the thick ropes. I can hear the cicadas singing, and maybe a cricket or two, with a frog thrown in for good measure. It’s a good sound. A before sound.

  “I miss the way things used to be,” I say, sighing.

  “Oh yeah?” he says.

  I smile, remembering all the small things I loved in the life before Germs. “Yeah. At night, when the city was quiet, you could hear all these sounds. If I couldn’t sleep, I would lay awake, listening to the insects chat back and forth…sometimes I’d listen to them for hours.” My smile fades. “Back before the sirens and screams and Germs drowned them all out.”

  I scoot closer to him, cuddling up, despite the heat of the evening. Aiden is my new normal; my security blanket when everything else seems scary and uncertain. I miss everything about my old life, but when I’m with Aiden, it hurts a little less.

  “Hey,” he says, getting my attention.

  I shift so I can look at him. He’s so handsome, with his raven black hair and electric blue eyes; I blush, suddenly self-conscious...my brown hair and hazel eyes don’t seem nearly as attractive…yet here he is, looking at me like I’m everything he needs. He traces my jaw with his calloused thumb. Shockwaves move through my body as he lifts my chin, bringing my lips to his. I feel like my heart just released a thousand butterflies into the night sky.

  I’m grinning like a fool when he finally breaks away. “Where did that come from?” I ask.

  He laughs. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

  “How long is ‘a while’? Since the shelter?”

  He shakes his head. “Before that. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I only knew you as 401.”

  “Really?” I ask, surprised.

  He raises an eyebrow. “That surprises you?”

  “Well, yeah…I mean, you’re Mr. Cool and I’m a librarian. I don’t even have tattoos,” I say.

  “Oh, merciful heavens
!”

  I slap his shoulder playfully. “Stop it. You know what I mean. I’m just boring old me,” I say with a shrug.

  “You don’t seem boring to me,” he says, kissing me again. When he pulls away, he says, “I think you’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. And that’s before I knew you could survive a bite.”

  July 15, 2019

  I don’t like Howard. And I don’t trust him.

  At all.

  Aiden thinks I’m being paranoid.

  I’ll never believe Howard didn’t kill Miss Ada. I tried to talk to Aiden about it, but he insisted it was a weird coincidence. Old people die all the time, he reasoned. But I think there are a lot of coincidences with Howard; like how each time he brings new people home, Carrie forces us to drink her “tea” and we all pass out shortly thereafter.

  Each time, it seems to take longer before my head feels normal again. I hate them, and I hate I’m not strong enough to refuse their rituals. But I’m outnumbered, so I allow myself to be drugged over and over, even though I swore it’d never happen again after the first time.

  One day, I’m going to break that teapot.

  I’m watching Howard now, as he rocks back and forth in the old wooden rocking chair on the front porch. His tanned skin soaks up the sun, and his white shirt is stained yellow with his own sweat. His steely blue eyes scan the porch, studying each of us, before finally settling on the woods beyond the fence.

  “We’ve got to accept there’s not going to be a swift end to this...predicament,” he says slowly. “It’s been nearly three months since the first attacks, and there’s been no sign of a cure. We haven’t seen any signs of life in the nearby towns,” he says. He sticks a long piece of straw between his teeth. “But…the Hebrews found themselves in the wilderness, too. Despite being God’s chosen people.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask.

  He frowns at my rudeness, but says, “Perhaps the Lord is testing us…refining us…so that we’ll be ready when He chooses to deliver the human race.”