The Risen: Remnants (11 page)

Where are the owners from the cars left sitting in the lot? The caked dirt tells the passage of time they have sat here alone and forgotten. The clowns peer at me through the other cars’ windows. Their colors don’t seem as bright and cheery as they were when I first saw them, but their smiles are still just as unsettling. Where are the children?

“I think I will stay here with the kids,” I offer, still staring at the clowns and fearing what their presence may mean.

Alicia and Ginjer follow my stare and both inhale with the discovery.

“You don’t think...” Ginjer stalls, letting her silence fill in for the words no one wants to assume.

“If you were running away from something with that many kids, wouldn’t you get back in the van if it were possible?” Alicia is just the bearer of evil truths tonight.

Genny whispers, “So, they are still here?” holding tighter to Kent’s hand.

We each look to the other, feeling discomfort from the thoughts we are having. Some thoughts are just too horrible to endure.
Forgive me Father for my sins, but I pray that if they are still here, we find them dead; truly dead.
My thoughts betray my bravery.

I have had to kill my fair share of things to survive, but I don’t know if I could bring myself to do the same to children no matter what they might be now.

Genny looks to me for guidance in this new storm, but I have no idea where port is any longer. I just know that it feels like we are sinking more each day into an abyss from which I don’t see an escape. The current grows stronger with each new struggle, pulling us further from the shore of who we once were and I don’t know if we are strong enough to ever swim back.

“Can’t hurt to look?” Was the question that was asked of us when we arrived. Right now, it could hurt a lot. It could even destroy us.

Chapter
13

T
he three of us sit behind the glass cage, waiting for the return of the rest of our new group. Every noise steals our breath, making our hearts race and our bodies freeze with dread. The buzzing of the occasional fly even sets our hearts to race. The tension wears thin the slim hopes of conversation and soon we sit in silence laced with facial expressions of doubt.

“How long do you think they have been gone?” Kent’s emotions are a mask on his face. He wears every thought and every feeling, making him an easy person to understand and to tease.

“Don’t know. Why don’t you check your phone for the time?” Genny’s off-flavored comment arches my eyebrow at her. The saint isn’t normally snippy. “Sorry, just tired. I’m sure it feels a lot longer than it actually has been.” She smiles at Kent, expressing her remorse for the comment. He smiles, just that easy to appease. The river doesn’t run deep with this boy.

Genny rattles the left over gummy bears in her looted box of candy. “What do you think the expiration date is on these things?”

“Wouldn’t it have been smart to check that before you started eating them?” Kent stares at her, watching her eyebrows knit as her mind is searching for a response. “Sorry, just tired. I’m sure they taste like they have sat there a lot longer than they actually have been.” He smiles at her, the pride he is feeling over his wit lighting his eyes. The blow Genny lands on his arm dims it some.

“You’re going to let him talk to me like that?” She tries to mock a pout with pursed lips and sad eyes, but fails. Her giggles are a give away to her mischief.

I shrug and tell her, “He has a point,” finishing off the rest of my looted boxed chocolate. “Good thing I didn’t encourage you to steal milk. Who knows how that might have ended.”

Our teasing chatter covered the sounds of their return. So when Alicia, seeing the perfect chance to be an annoying big sister, reached over the glass to grab my shoulders, Genny and I both screamed. Kent jumped so hard backwards at our distress that the perfectly balanced paper tubs came crashing down on him. He kicked at them as if he was under attack, sending them flying even higher in the air before crashing down on him again. The sight must have been hilarious by the laughter that followed. The three of us on this side of the case weren’t laughing at all.

“You suck.” Is the only response I can think of with my heart choking me. I obviously missed my mark because Alicia just laughs even harder.

“How many buckets of popcorn did you want, Son?” Terrence leans nonchalantly on the case, staring down at his panting teen. His face is all mirth but Kent is not amused.

“Well did you at least find anything?” Genny stands, ready to confront them before anyone can tease her.

“Yes, we did.” Peyton is carrying a large cardboard box. His smile is just as proportionate.

“It looks like this place has never been disturbed. We found no trace of looting damage. Nothing has been broken into. There is food, even if it is candy, still just sitting here. The best? These...” Peyton’s smile grows even larger as he opens the box.

He pulls out large, rolled fabric, tossing them on the floor. They are held together with strings tied to keep them rolled. The material is reflective even with this meager light. Personally, I still think the candy is the best, but these are a nice comfort, too.

“Sleeping bags?” Genny tilts her head as if it is a game of charades and the first clue has been tossed in front of her.

“Yup, sleeping bags, Kiddo. This place must have once held some kind of over night thing or maybe movies on the lawn. Whatever it was, they left these up in the storage area.” Alicia says as she rubs Genny’s head and earns herself a glare. Someone is still in trouble.

Ginjer and I exchange glances, once again I feel the shame creep over me. I have been thinking of how rough we have had it living as we live, but seeing them this excited over sleeping bags only proves how wrong I have been. We have been taking for granted the simple things that could mean a completely new level of comfort to some.

“We planning to stay here tonight?” Ginjer steals the timing for any comment I may have been building, preventing me from telling them the truth about us.

“We might as well,” Terrence shrugs. “Don’t really want to be looking for a new place to set up in the dark.”

“…and others may still show up.” Peyton stares out into the parking lot with hope. His eyes float over the cars, trying to see if he spots anything familiar. His posture is one of defeat thinking of all of the people he wasn’t able to save. Seeing their leader saddened, it sweeps over the room like a silent prayer.

“They wouldn’t let me bring down the Johnny Depp poster.” Ginjer mutters, rolling out her bag completely impervious to the mood of the room. “What?” She asks, staring back at the shocked faces towards her. “It’s not like its going to any good use just sitting up there!”

The adults stare at her, half hiding our smirks, wondering if she even is aware of the corner she has backed herself into with that comment. No one is brave enough really to ask with the social lines still blurring with our two groups. When Genny opens her mouth, I step on her foot warning her not to open that conversation.

With no safe avenue left for conversation to travel along, we begin prepping for sleep. Peyton agrees to take the first shift to watch for anyone else who might arrive. They assure me the door in the back that I left open has been shut and for extra measure, they have wedged a metal bat the theater used as a promotional prop in the handles of that theater’s hallway entrance.

“We are all safe and secure.” Peyton smiles at me and I feel myself returning it before I can counter the emotion. Worse, not before Genny can see it.

“Totally saw that.” She is munching on another box of candy and for a brief moment, I have an urge to tell her no more candy before bedtime. Some habits are hard to break.

“He is a good looking guy.” I say to her because there is no point in arguing with her or trying to deny my smile. Instead, I stare at the man whose back is to us as he leans against the glass doors searching for some signs of hope about the ones we left behind.

“How long has it been since you dated?” Her calm question spins my head to her. “Mom, I’m sixteen. I totally know what sex is.” She is making a game of tossing the bears into the air and catching them with her mouth. Glad to see I am the only one uncomfortable here.

“Genny, you’re sixteen. I totally want to deny that you know what sex is.” She makes a “tsking” noise at my comment between bites.

“You know, that is how most teen pregnancies happen. Parents just don’t feel comfortable talking to us about sex. Then we have to go online, gather our own information –” I hold my hand up to stop her rant, blocking the line of thought before my sanity becomes as torn and mangled as the candy bears she is eating.

“At what point did you decide to make this conversation the most uncomfortable that you could?” I ask and she smiles at me and I have to return it. This is the Genny that I have been missing.

“When I saw you smile.” She sits up, looking at me. All the impish grins are set aside. “I’m not saying you have to marry the guy, or even love him. You don’t know what tomorrow might bring and if we are all going to die anyway, you might as well get a little something while you can.”

The sincere mixture of her words and emotions disturbs me a little. I never thought that I would be receiving “go get ‘em” advice from my teen daughter.

“Hey Genny,” I look at her, my face a blank slate of unwritten words. “Why don’t you pull your stuff a little closer to me? Suddenly, I don’t feel as giving as I was with your alone time with Kent.”

“Mom,” She laughs, as we begin a game of assault with the gummy bears she was eating, tossing them back and forth. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have seen enough movies to know the virgin outlives everyone and the stupid teen girl who is talked into sex is always the first to die.”

“Who is the first to die?” Ginjer comes to our area hearing our laughter. She and I are still keeping apart from the other group. Watching my sister and Terrence talk over the night’s plans for our safety, I am stabbed with guilt and jealously simultaneously.

“Sluts,” Genny offers shrugging causally. I don’t want to have to explain the previous conversation, but her response only leaves me less wiggle room to get out of having to.

“How did you know the word was “hello”?” Ginjer enjoys talking about herself. I throw her the conversation and hope to silently sneak away before I can become the main topic.

“Told you, my husband was a pilot. You know that.” She shuts down, staring out into the lobby that we have made into a giant bedroom.

“He taught you Morse code?” Genny asks innocently, unaware of Ginjer’s unusual silence.

“No, his slut did.” Her smile is like candy-coated arsenic. It seems sweet at first, but the words behind it scald with poison. “He was having an affair with a stewardess. They would send texts in Morse code thinking they were clever just in case I ever saw the phone before he could delete the text. He told me they were running practice tests so they could both pass any random skill testing, with a smile and a pat on my head.” Her smile becomes less sweet, but still filled with venom. “So I began jotting down the dashes and such and translating them through search engines. It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on once their magical code was broken. So I waited for him to take a trip and sent him a text in my own code.”

Genny is so eager to hear the rest, she almost jumps up when Ginjer stops the story before she begins again.

“I sent him two numbers; the longitude and latitude of where I left his precious sports car. When he came home a day later than normal, mad that all he found was the empty parking lot to a very expensive jewelry store, I simply smiled at him. “Isn’t texting in codes fun?” I asked him. “Turns out my lawyer knows Morse code very well and figured up exactly what it would cost you in alimony should a judge ever learn Morse code, too.” After that little bomb he was much more discreet if he ever cheated again and I had a very pretty diamond ring to wear every time I thought he was.”

“Why didn’t you just divorce him?” It is a question I have wanted to ask since I began working for her, being well aware of their internal issues and now finally I have.

“When you divorce, your issues become public. That’s just messy for everyone.” Her voice is almost judgmental with me being a divorcee myself and I shrug, ignoring the tone she has directed at me. I gave up a long time ago trying to please a woman whose idea of “budgeting” was only buying five new outfits a day instead of her normal twelve.

I refuse to become insulted by her and begin to settle into “bed”, proving to her that the conversation is over. After a few minutes of silence, Ginjer goes back to her bag that she has placed closer to us than the others with nothing more being said between us.

“You know she doesn’t really mean the things she says, Mom?” Genny’s whisper caresses my mind that has slowly begun to shut down from the day.

“I know.” I pat her leg, letting her know that I am not really upset.

“Do you think Dad and Kim are out there, somewhere? We found Aunt Alicia.” Her voice is fragile, fearing the truth.

I lie, trying to give a glimmer of hope to her dreams so I tell her, “I don’t know. I guess they could be.”

When she closes her eyes, I hope she is seeing him as he was and not as I last saw him. I hope he is smiling at her, sharing jokes that only they knew with their private father/daughter relationship. I hope she is dreaming of what it would be like to find him, whole and safe, hugging him for that first time after so many months apart. I hope she cherishes that dream, and I will lie about it forever to avoid tarnishing her memory of him.

For me, I know the truth. I can still see him hunched over his new wife, tearing her apart with no remorse or recognition for her. I can still remember Kim’s vacant, staring eyes pointed at me with her arm extended in her death as she tried to crawl away from the man that was supposed to protect and honor her. Thanks to Charlie, I will forever hear the sound that a heart makes when it is being sucked on like a rare fruit; ripe and overflowing its juices down your arm. He also taught me how to kill that day and for that, I am thankful.