Ash & Flame: Season One (5 page)

His eyes shone in the lantern's dim light. "I owed her a box of the stupid things every day for a week, after that."

Emma laughed. Of course she couldn't have remembered that, and even if she could, she'd probably be a bit embarrassed to admit it.

Her taste in food was hardly a point now, anyway. Didn't much matter if she really liked something, or hated it, like fish. Anything she could find now that was remotely edible would do the trick. Turning down anything she or her dad found would be like admitting that she'd rather starve.

And she'd known what that felt like. She'd eat cardboard if she had to.

She tried to imagine her mom, sitting at the table of some restaurant, trying to get her to take another bite of fish. Tried to just imagine her mom's face, which had become harder and harder to do lately. Harder to recall, like the older Emma got the more of her mother's face she would forget, until one day there would be nothing left and she would have nothing but her dad's stories.

It wasn't fair. She wanted to remember everything.

Only that wasn't true. Parts she did remember, parts of her mom that she didn't think even Dad had known about. Things that she didn't want him to know, like how Emma had known her mom was sick. How she had come into Emma's room some nights, and told her good night, and Mom's eyes had scared her to death.

How she knew the instant her mother had jumped.

"So what happened, Em?"

Emma's breath caught in her throat, her dad's question breaking the spell her thoughts had cast over her. She blinked and turned to face him. "What do you mean? You're the one that remembers that stuff—"

Dad shook his head. "No. I mean the other night." He leaned forward, tugging on the sling that still wrapped around his arm. "What happened?"

Emma frowned. She bit her lip and thought for a second. She didn't remember, the memories of two nights ago a blurry fog. She could picture the door slamming against the wall, and her dad setting her down so they could move faster. Something dark and wet on her lips. "I...I don't remember all of it, Dad. Just pieces..."

Her father's fingers flexed into a fist and relaxed, over and over. He sat back on his bed and peered out the window. "Anyone ask you questions? Questions that you didn't want to answer? That you couldn't?"

Emma felt the ripple of fear from him, an undercurrent that she could easily read now. She was so used to her father being afraid that the signs had become obvious.

She had to be strong for both of them sometimes, young girl or not.

"Dad, you worry too m—"

"It's getting worse, isn't it?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

This wasn't a discussion she wanted to have. She didn't want to think about it, or have anyone try to drill into her head and make everything seep out. She couldn't talk about it, because to talk about it would be an admission that something was wrong with her. Not knowing was better, not admitting it allowed her to hide the fear she held tucked inside. So, no, she wasn't getting worse.

"Listen, baby doll, you have to tell me what's go—"

"We can't both be scared all the time, Dad!"

She winced, regretting the words the instant they slipped free of her lips. They pierced her father like daggers and his eyes fell downcast to the floor. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but it was too late to take it back now. The truth seemed like it was always the easier choice, but it always seemed to hit the hardest.

Hitting her dad with that harsh truth, the one person in the whole world who'd sacrificed everything he had to give her what he could, even his courage, was the last thing she wanted to do.

Right next to telling herself the truth.

"Em, these people, they're not my family." Dad looked up at her as he spoke, and he held her gaze, his eyes soft. "They're not your family. All I want is to keep you safe. You understand that, right?"

Emma bit back the retort on her lips and nodded. It wasn't his fault, not really. Maybe she'd be like him, if she were older. She couldn't know for sure, but maybe if her husband had jumped off a building, and demons hunted her down, searching for the only bloodline she had left, maybe she wouldn't be so different from him.

But it wasn't like she'd been a kid for long. She wasn't even given the time to grow up. It just sort of happened, because it had to.

Dad sighed and laid back on the bed, his hand tucked under the back of his head. "Just don't tell them anything. I don't trust them." He peeked over his arm at Emma, and then slipped back on the pillow, his eyes closed.

Idiot girl
. Emma's chest hurt. She swore to herself, wishing she'd have kept her big mouth shut. She wasn't always very good at that.

Her father lay there for a few minutes, the sky outside growing dark, and she couldn't hold still any longer. She bounced off her bed and hopped onto his mattress. She wrapped her arm around his chest and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Daddy. No matter what."

Dad opened his eyes and smiled. "I know, baby doll. Love you, too. To the moon and back." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Now get some sleep."

Night slowly fell over the compound and sleep came uneasily when it finally arrived. The nightmares sounded as darkness fell, squawks and dissonant cries, and echoing growls. Far off at first and then nearer, like demons walked the walls and called out to Emma before retreating back into the trees.

She curled up next to her father and together they waited out the din of shouting and gunfire, neither of them saying a word. Emma's stomach churned, and she almost wished she hadn't eaten, a sour nausea settling in the back of her throat.

Finally an awkward silence spread over the compound, and she began to drift off, her lids growing heavy. She felt the comfortable presence of Dad's arm around her, his steady breathing next to her.

Her eyes closed and she hoped, before slumber overcame her, that she wouldn't remember her dreams.

▪▪▪

A rumbling sound startled Ren awake and he let out a sigh as he realized it was his own stomach. He blinked away the fog and glanced towards the window. There was no sunlight, the sky through the portal the shiftless gray just before dawn. Wincing as he stretched, he looked over at the other bed, relieved to see Emma's sleeping form under the blanket. Sometime in the night, she'd slipped into her own bed.

He slid his legs off the bed and stood, untying the sling at his shoulder. He arched his back and twisted his torso, stifling a gasp at the wrenching ache of his body. His legs still felt like they'd outright refuse a sprint, his ribs so sore that every breath was tinged with hundreds of tiny needles that prickled his lungs. He could only hope the rawness would slip away as the day wore on, and he moved around.

Ren pulled his boots on as quietly as he could, his motions slow and deliberate. Not only because he wanted to let Em sleep a while longer, but because putting boots on with a half-dead arm was a painful chore that he didn't exactly relish. Every tug of the laces brought a fresh grimace to his face.

But he needed to get out, if even for just a short while. He had no real idea where he was, and he'd been on his own for so long, just him and Emma, that this place felt almost foreign. This old plant had become a home to these people, and he needed to know what this place was, and who they were. And, if necessary, how to get out.

Especially after meeting Kevin. Anne Chen, or even an angel, only made up so much ground there.

Ren crept past Emma's bed and let himself out, wincing as the door clicked shut. He paused and took in the sights of the compound again, at least what he could see of it, amazed that someone had actually made a home for themselves in such an odd place.

A gentle fog rolled off the river to the east, blanketing the shore on the other side, on what used to be Illinois. But those lines of demarcation didn't exist anymore. They had been replaced by chaos and starvation, blood and fear. By running and running, until that's all he knew.

The mist obscured the swath of trees to the north, hanging just off the earthen embankment. A man stood on top of the squat building across the yard, a lantern gleaming from the rail. Ren looked way, afraid of the shapes he might see playing within the mist.

"Morning."

Shit
. Ren's heart skipped, and he spun to his right, the breath caught in his throat. A woman stood off to the side of the building's door, leaning back against the dull gray of masonry. The dim light of the coming dawn revealed the hard lines of her face, one corner of her lips raised in a mocking smile, a dark shock of short hair clinging to her head in lazy curls. She wore beige canvas pants, pockets running down the legs. Wiry arms crossed the chest of her black tank top, a tattoo of an eagle's head on one shoulder.

"Morning," he said. He let out a low sigh at the glittering chain he spotted around her neck. It might be a regular old necklace, maybe a cross or a keepsake hanging from the end, but now he'd never look at them the same. "Scared the shit out of me." He clamped his lips shut when he heard the nervous twitch in his own voice.

The woman nodded. Ren thought her eyes flashed, that her smile got just a little brighter, like maybe she'd enjoyed that admission just a little too much.

"So, you're the guy they brought in the other night, all beat to hell. Kid too, right?"

"Yep, that's me." Sounded like him, didn't it? Just another victim, another coward, always looking to run instead of stand. Scared and nervous, the definition that he couldn't ignore in his daughter's eyes whenever she looked at him.

He wanted to run now, too. He could feel it in his gut, the uneasy twitch of his nerves as the woman looked at him, as the mist swirled over the river, dark limbs of shadow intertwining, seemingly reaching out for him. If Emma had been out here, he might have. Instead he swallowed against the tingle in the back of his throat and leaned forward, one hand gripping the railing, the rusted metal cool to the touch.

"Seems like you're gettin' around okay, all things considered, so that's good." The woman took a couple of steps forward and leaned over the railing, standing an arm's-length from Ren. Her pendant slipped loose of her shirt, a silver filigree circle, and she hastily tucked it back under the neckline. "Not that you oughtta go running around just yet."

Ren's eyes flitted to the chain that dangled from her neck. Just another reminder that he wasn't going anywhere, not yet.

He thrust a hand out. Maybe he'd get better luck with her than he had Kevin. "Name's Ren."

"That's what I heard," the woman said with a sideways nod. She took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. "Rachel."

Ren released Rachel's hand and looked out over the quiet compound, at the winding roads and piles of dirt and limestone that stood vigil before the earthen walls. The man standing guard shielded his eyes with one hand as the sun finally broke the horizon, its rays piercing the fog over the river. It was almost peaceful.

"So, what did you do to get to wear that around your neck?"

Rachel looked down over the railing and chuckled. "Well, you know how the story goes. I tell ya, I'd have to kill ya."

Ren's grin almost felt sincere. "Fair enough." He couldn't be sure, but he thought he almost liked Rachel. "And how many of you have them?"

Almost.

Rachel leaned back and sighed, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the railing. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing out here, Ren?"

The low, churning growl of Ren's stomach answered for him. He patted his belly. "Actually, I was just hoping to get some food for me and Emma." Not completely true, but close enough.

Rachel slapped the metal rail with one hand and stepped away. "Alright then, let's go get you some food."

She motioned with her forefinger and walked down the ramp, her boots crunching on the sand. Ren took it slow, following a few steps behind, but he was finally able to get a better view of the old cement plant as they crossed into the open.

The southwest yard was dominated by a large building, a tower at the east and west corner, connected by railed pipes. Broken and cracked windows lined the second and third stories, debris scattered on the ground underneath. Ren caught movement on the roof, and as he watched, a kneeling figure scanned the north and east, a pair of binoculars in one hand, a rifle in the other. To the south, a series of structures had been chained together by the same intricate layers of piping and catwalks, ending in a square of tall silos to the southwest. Dust, rock and sand was everywhere, like a coat of paint that had spoiled and flaked off.

Rachel stopped and pointed towards a medium-sized building, standing roughly in-between Ren's makeshift home and the massive dome to the west. "That's the BX. We got some inventory still: boots, clothes, blankets. Your basic general store."

She swung her arm slightly to the south, towards a much smaller structure. "Kitchen's there. Canned food, boxes, some chicken, and as much fish as we can keep."

Ren nodded, then pointed towards the dome. "And that?"

Rachel stared at him, her brow raised, before shaking her head. "Not sure you're ready for that just yet."

He opened his mouth, another question on his tongue, but a hesitant voice behind him cut off the thought.