Reapers

by Ain Soph

  Cleaning is actually more tiring than I first anticipated but regardless, I power through it, polishing the table, fluffing the couch cushions, picking up specks of dirt on the carpet, and organizing Mori’s books on her end table (whatever few she has). Room by room I walk through throwing out trash, wiping up dust, and organizing whatever items liter the surfaces of the furniture. I want to clean Mori’s bedroom too, but I can’t even make myself open the door. It’s most likely closed for a reason and going in feels like an invasion of her privacy.

  By noon, the house is spotless, and I throw myself down on the couch in exhaustion. I think I focused more on cleaning Mori’s house than I have on some missions. My heaviness doesn’t stop my leg from shaking anxiously, though. More still isn’t back, and I’m starting to worry. With the town’s attitude toward her, any number of violent things could have happened to Mori while I was busy playing homemaker.

  I stand up and make my way into the kitchen, grabbing an empty vase I found tucked away in one of the empty cabinets. After giving it a once over with the rag, I head outside to pick some flowers to fill the vase with. At the very least, it’ll help cheer Mori up some from the news I’d given her last night about Lucie. And if she isn’t back by the time I return to the house, then I’ll go to town and start looking for her. I bound down the front steps and walk across the street toward an open grassy field with red flowers dotting the landscape.

  There’s no doubt this is a bad part of town. The houses are caving in, crude graffiti covers their siding, and the streets stink like sewage and trash. The only redeeming factor of the area is, ironically, the lack of care put into the land around the neighborhood. Even though there are far too many weeds to even begin counting, fields of flowers surround the houses and large mossy trees tickle the sloping roofs of the crooked front porches. The land looked like something from a fairytale. The road to this part of town eroded and grew over long ago. To make things easier for themselves, the residents of the area put in stepping stones for makeshift paths going from house to house. It would actually be beautiful with a bit more work and a different attitude in the neighbors, but that isn’t going to happen any time soon.

  The worst of the worst live in this section of Timberwood- those who have given up on life; given up on friendship, love, family; given up on themselves (except for Mori who was forced here against her will- although it makes me wonder how many others had also been forced here). The people here have no place with the rest of society and so they come to this part of town to waste away for the remainders of their lives. When Mori took me this way, I didn’t think too much about our surroundings. I thought maybe it was a shortcut to Mori’s home- a shortcut I had somehow forgotten about. I’d heard stories about this neighborhood, but until yesterday, I’d never been here myself. To think this is the neighborhood Mori now calls home makes me feel sick.

  I walk behind the neighboring houses and continue to the far side of the field in search of more flowers. Several red poppies are growing alongside the edge of the forest, making me smile at the thought of my vase’s finished product. I’ve already picked yellow and orange. With red added in to, it’s going to be a sunset of colors. Mori’s definitely going to appreciate the thought. I know I don’t have to go so far for her, but everything in me is screaming that I shouldn’t have put more stress on her by telling her about Lucie. Last night it felt like the right thing to do, but after sleeping on it, I feel like maybe I didn’t think about the repercussions enough. Does that news have something to do with why Mori’s been gone so long?

  I pick as many poppies as I can and sit down on a nearby rock to pass a little more time. Flower picking didn’t take as much time as I hoped it would. Only five or ten minutes have passed since I first came outside and I doubt Mori would be back yet. I want to give her a little more time to return before I head into town. I’m out of my comfort zone right now, and if it wasn’t for Edric, I know I would never have come back to Timberwood. If a part of me was slightly excited about visiting, it’s gone now. Timberwood isn’t the same place I remember growing up. Too much has changed and it’s making it harder for me to stay here. I couldn’t figure out why the people here looked so desolate and ominous earlier, but the town must have started to change after the kidnappings. When I left, the village was happy and clean. The people were prosperous and made sure they came together to help their fellow neighbors no matter the cost or circumstance. That’s how I want to remember it- Timberwood in its glory days. That’s my home, the place I shared with my parents and Lucie. That’s the way it was always meant to stay in my mind. This new, unfamiliar town has a heavy cloud of misery around it, choking the people caught in its darkness little by little, day by day. What happens when they suffocate? What will become of them?

  If my parents were alive, none of this would be happening to Mori. They would do everything in their power to help her no matter what. They always knew what was best, what was right, and how to achieve it while holding on to honor and loyalty. Even after they became mercenaries, my parents wanted to let Lucie and me choose our own militia- or whether or not we even wanted to become mercenaries. It was our best chance at a good life, and we all knew that, but even so, our parents wanted to give us the choice. Unsurprisingly Lucie and I chose to become mercenaries like our parents, and in the days leading up to their disappearance, we both decided to stay and contract with Timberwood. You get the most benefits for remaining with your birth militia anyway. Instead of just being the militias property, you’re treated like an actual citizen. Some people still choose to change militias (always to a more powerful one) so their kids can be born there and lead better lives, but it’s always a sacrifice on the parents’ part. And then of course, there are those like me who flee from their home militia because they’re trying to escape something. I wonder how many stories like mine end in regret. Perhaps I’m the only one who made the mistake of a lifetime by fleeing her home militia. I wonder what my parents would think of me now.

  When my parents first became mercenaries, they went away on mission so often, Lucie and I were mainly raised by neighbors. When Lucie and I started referring to every woman except our own mother as mom, our mother cut back on her mercenary work and started accepting less missions. She still wasn’t around that often, but compared to before she started turning down missions, it seemed like our mother was always home. Eventually, our father started cutting back on missions too. It was lonely leading them without his wife there beside him, and he missed my sister and me too much. He tried for a granger position and started working in the fields on weekends to supplement the loss of revenue from both of them cutting back on mercenary work.

  Things weren’t perfect, but neither was the world, and we were all pretty damn happy. Friday nights my parents threw parties, making the most outrageous dishes with the extra crops hauled from the field that week. Everyone in our area of the neighborhood came, bringing something special for the hosts. Our home always had the oddest collection of trinkets littering every surface from friends and neighbors in the village, and usually at least one or two of them would break each party- depending on how rowdy it got. Lucie, Edric, and I would always sneak out and wander around the fields that surrounded our town. Both of Edric’s parents worked in the fields and sometimes they’d make him help the grangers if there was an exceptionally large harvest. It was awful work for a young boy who wanted nothing more than to be a mercenary, but because of his side job, Edric knew the fields better than any other kid in the neighborhood. There were many other kids living near us that wanted to become our friends, but none could break into the tight knit clique that the three of us formed. Life was good- great even. But in my short life thus far, I’ve learned pretty quickly that good things don’t last in a world like ours.

  Timberwood, like ever other militia, has scouts that venture throughout the town (braving even the impoverished district) to find children that look as though they may possess the qualities needed to become a successful
mercenary. Whether they decide to leave with the scouts or not is entirely up to them, but for some children- like those in impoverished areas- it’s a good way to break free from the mold their militia places them in. Being scouted is the only way a child can train to become a mercenary (unless their parents were mercenaries and the children are legacies). They have another opportunity when they reach adulthood, but the test to become a mercenary is much harder for someone who hasn’t trained a day in their life. It was shocking to everyone when my parents became mercenaries. No one expected them to pass the test. Regardless, scouting is how Edric was able to train as a mercenary even thought both of his parents are grangers. Were. His dad was a granger.

  After the legacies are rounded up and the scouting for that season is complete, the children go to a training camp in the mercenary district to learn the trade, and it was during training that the fire started the turning point in all our lives. It swept in from the south, red flames cracking at the sky like a whip. The instructors were quick to get their pupils to an underground cellar until the flames could be controlled. The children, Lucie and I included, had to wait there until our parents were alerted and we were picked up and taken home. Unfortunately for Lucie and I, both our parents were on a mission- a rogue one (though neither of us knew it at the time). They were supposed to return sometime that day but we weren’t sure what time to expect them. Neither of us knew the militia our parents were working for, nor the details of the mission, but that was normal. We knew they did some rogue work, but most of the time we just assumed they were doing missions under Titania. The only detail we ever really received about their work was the time that they would most likely return to us. When we were finally able to have family time after they’d been away for so long, work talk was always off limits. Lucie and I knew nothing about them, and we were fools for it.

  When the fire swept through Timberwood, most of the homes were able to be saved, but the crop fields were burned until there was nothing left. The town had to learn how to survive on the meager amount of processed goods we had stored away for emergencies, and in the meantime, our parents failed to ever return from their mission. Lucie and I waited in that cold, damp cellar until it became clear that there no one was coming for us. Mori took us home instead, even going so far as to stay with us for a couple days, the three of us thinking that perhaps the mission was taking our parents longer than they expected. But one week turned into two, and as more time passed both of us lost faith in our parents ever coming home. Usually, when a mercenary died, the family was notified, and if possible the body was returned to the family, but even when it became obvious that our parents weren’t returning, no one came to contact either Lucie or myself. It was like our parents had just disappeared, and to me that’s exactly what happened.

  Lucie tried multiple times to tell me that our parents were dead and I needed to let my theory about the Crimson Reapers go, but I refused. There were no longer any Friday night parties and no more outlandish recipes were cooked in our kitchen. A visible chill descended over the town after our parents disappeared, and as I watched the world fall apart around me, I felt like I had a duty to the town and my sister to find my parents and bring them home. Now though, knowing that my one woman mission would lead to Lucie’s disappearance, I’m not so sure I would have left Timberwood to find my parents. At the time, if I was told my mission would lead to her kidnapping, I’m sure I would have arrogantly thought that I could save her and still continue with my search. I may have been too confident then, but I know my current realism doesn’t come from maturity; it comes from a broken spirit. Still though, for Timberwood, that fire allowed a small fray to appear in the fibers of the town, and after the kidnappings with Mori, it seems the fray has completely come undone.

  I’m tired of remembering Timberwood as it used to be though. The only thing those memories make me feel is sick to my stomach, thinking of all that’s been lost and all that there still is to lose. Instead, I draw on my memories of Edric for comfort. I didn’t realized I had been holding my forehead tight with tension that whole time, but at the thought of Edric, I can feel my eyebrows start to relax in relief. I stopped thinking about him after I left Timberwood, partly because it was too painful to face his memory and partly because I was uncertain the Edric I remembered still existed.

  When I decided to leave Timberwood, Edric was the only thing in town it hurt to say goodbye to. Even Mori was easier to leave behind than him. We were the three amigos and because of me, Edric was left behind. And after Lucie’s disappearance, I avoided thinking him even more. Every time he passed through my mind, Lucie was right there beside him- both of them looking at me like I could disappear and they wouldn’t have a care in the world. It was too painful, and if I thought about Lucie too much, then I would end up back in the dark place I fell to after her disappearance. But returning to Timberwood, seeing Mori again- even seeing Edric again at the Remnant camp- it feels like I’m being bombarded with memories of Lucie. It’s hard to hold on to my current state of mind, keeping myself from slipping into darkness at the thought of her. Every time I feel that blackness creeping in to my mind, I have to try to reign myself in. Having enough self awareness to notice when the numbness hits helps me to catch myself before I go too far downhill, every day I’m terrified of falling back into the dark depression I faces after Lucie disappeared. After I pieced myself back together, I kept all thoughts of Lucie locked away as tight as possible and threw away the key- or so I thought. Now, with Edric becoming a part of my life again, I can feel the box opening and everything I’ve tried so hard to avoid is flooding my brain.

  The three of us were such troublemakers. Lucie always had a small crush on Edric that I teased her about constantly. At the time, the very thought of Edric being anything other than us sisters’ third wheel was laughable. Now though, things are different. It’s just Edric and myself now, and he’s no longer a childhood friend. We’ve been separated long enough to feel almost like strangers, and outside the Remnant camp, it felt like I was meeting him for the first time. He’s still so familiar to me, but he feels so far away- just out of reach. In the time I’ve been away, Edric became a man, and facing him outside of the camp, I feel like a small part of me knew exactly what Lucie went through every time she saw him. Regardless, my personal feelings about Edric don’t matter. He was once a close friends, but now he’s a mean to accomplish my mission- a mission I am entirely focused on. To not focus one hundred percent on the task in front of me is a betrayal to Lucie, Isoline, and my parents. Any personal feelings can’t get in the way of what needs to be done.

  To be honest though, I’m surprised Edric acknowledged me at all. He was furious with me for leaving- with Lucie and I both. He knew I was the one behind Lucie’s departure though and that she wouldn’t have left if she was given a choice. Therefore, most, if not all, of his blame fell to me. I was Lucie’s legal guardian, even thought we were both still children at the time, and because of that, I stripped her choice away because of my own selfishness. Of course, at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do for both myself and Lucie. I thought we needed to get out of town, away from the pitying looks and emptiness of our house. It was no longer a home- not without our parents there. Lucie didn’t see it that way at all, but I put my own depression onto her because I was too afraid to face it myself. And I naively thought Edric would be able to see why we had to go, but I’m not even sure he tried to understand anything I was telling him. Part of it was probably just bad communication on my end. I made it seem like I had nothing left in town, that everywhere I went, I was just met with pity and sorrow. Edric though, wanted to be the reason I stayed. He wanted to badly to be the light to the darkness closing in on me (before I knew how bad the darkness could really get). To Edric, Lucie and I were the two most important people he had in Timberwood and he thought he’d be lost without us. I was so angry with him for that statement. Even if he wasn’t close with his father, Edric still had his mother- the closest p
erson to him other than us. I was certain that he was just trying to be dramatic so that he could guilt trip me into staying. It would have been typical Edric style to make himself seem more pitiful than he really was so that I’d go along with whatever he wanted or needed, and most of the time it worked. Every time in face except that one. Later, I realized that was probably the only time Edric actually meant every word he was saying.

  Lucie wanted to come back to Timberwood to visit the friends she left behind, so I decided to keep us close to the village for the first year after we left. I’d sometimes visit Timberwood too, but only to reminisce in its familiarity. I made to sure to avoid any and everyone living in town. I left because of the people, not the scenery. And I was mostly successful, except for one occasion when I let my guard down too low. I was laying in the granger fields on the workers’ day off, staring at the clouds lazily moving across the sky. I always had an interest it since my father first told Lucie and I stories of its dazzling blue color. Whether it’s from the war or something else, the sky’s never once been blue in my lifetime. Instead, it stays a murky yellow brown, the color of car exhaust. Usually you can’t make out a single cloud, but that day, the sky was as clear as I’ve ever seen it, and I gave in to my overwhelming desire to lie in the grass and watch them drift. Apparently, a few other teens from the neighborhood had the same idea.

  I heard them first, their raucousness and laughter echoing throughout the empty fields. Four boys were bounding toward the fields, close enough to where I was laying that all they had to do to see me was turn their heads the right way. I lifted my head for a moment to get a good view of where they were walking and ran behind a row of corn, trying to escape in the direction the boys came from. I recognized two of them as neighbors Edric and I would sometimes hand around when Lucie was busy with her other friends and we were bored. I definitely didn’t want them to know I was still hanging around Timberwood. They would most likely tell Edric and he’d misunderstand the entire situation. I ran until I felt like I was at a safe enough distance to where, even if they turned around, they wouldn’t be able to recognize me. As I turned to head back to the abandoned bus Lucie and I found in the woods (and made our home), I ran directly into Edric.