The Risen: Remnants (8 page)

Chapter
9

P
eyton did indeed want to scout the area. With the way the announcement caused a rush of worried whispers, I once again wonder what the real story is with the boy’s leg. The way their eyes all eventually come to stare at him, I become very curious. I watch as Genny unconsciously steps closer to the boy, her eyes set with determination to battle their stares and my heart sinks some.

“Looks like someone has a new boyfriend.” Ginjer smiles at me, teasing me, as if we should be celebrating this fact.

“Yeah, thanks for saving him.” My whispered comment draws the attention of the “townsfolk” closest to us. I arch my eyebrows at their looks making them turn away.

“We’ll see, but I doubt it would have been the untreated wound that killed him.” She says to me with guarded meaning. “Maybe we shouldn’t encourage their friendship.”

“Do you see me dropping rose petals or lighting candles here?” Once again, heads turn and I return their stares. “There is not a whole lot I can do about it. Want me to send her to her room?”

“Can’t you control your own kid?” Ginjer’s complaint pulls a side of me forward that I am not proud to own.

“Says the woman that has only had the desire to raise a dog.” I regret it as soon as it slips from my lips. “Ginjer, I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“No, you’re right. What do I know?” The tilt of her head shows me that she is no longer interested in talking with me. Honestly, I can’t blame her for the cold shoulder, but if one more person turns to look at me I may take out my frustrations on them.

Peyton has divided up the area on a stolen map from the mom-and-pop store with wide circles. Just as she said, Alicia and I are placed in the same circle outlining a well-known upper class neighborhood with its tall houses and expansive yards. I think I would have rather had the circle with the church with its lesser of a risk inhabitants than a neighborhood that stands a pretty good chance of being filled with something to say the least. I wonder if it is too late to add items to the “keep an eye out for” list. I could use a little Holy Water or a big bag of common sense.

Bless me Father, for I have gone insane. It’s been 24 hours since my last run-in with death.
How many Hail Mary’s and Acts of Contrition are needed to save me now?

“You ready?” Alicia is anxious with her nervousness, pulling me from my mental ramblings. “The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can return.” She didn’t have to say it. The thought is written all over her with the way she checks her bags for storage space and the lists of things they need.

“Will Genny be safe here?” I know by watching my daughter, and being accustomed to her “save the world” behavior, that she will not want to leave the boy behind. Her halo will compel her to stay here and keep an eye on him since his father is also placed in an exploration group headed to a different circle.

“Yeah. Not many will stay behind. Those that do stay normally sit in their cars to keep the sounds muffled and to be safe from surprise attacks; if it were to happen. We’ve picked the parking lot of the movie theater up the road to meet up if we get separated.” Her eyes never meet mine as she counts wire ties, ammunition, and other various miscellaneous items in her attempt to settle her own nerves. She does nothing to settle mine. “Truth is, she will most likely be a Hell of a lot safer here than out there with us.” I nod, agreeing with her, but it still doesn’t settle my nerves of leaving her.

Alicia is right. The “other things” don’t travel unless they are motivated. We are so far off the main roads. Being surrounded by these thick woods on a dirt road that was once a hunter’s trail, that there is no real reason for them to come this way. Where we are going, there are plenty of reasons to find them. After all, there is a chance we are pretty much going knocking on their doors.

“Genny,” I call to my child as I leave Alicia to her military minded madness. For a woman that has always hated the idea of camo, in any color, she has the hunting mentality down. “Genny, I’m going to go help scout out the area with Alicia. Will you be ok here, alone?” I can tell right away that my question has wounded her teen sense of pride.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I know the rules.” Her voice is pleasant but her face is the crowning jewel of annoyance.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Ginjer comes to lean on the side of the Jeep. “I assume she knows “sit” and “stay”, right?”

I have never seen my daughter and my friend on the same side of the picket line before, much less seen them on the side opposite of myself at the same time. Can’t say that I am enjoying it. All I can do is smile and walk away. Being a female, I know that this is dangerous ground and talking is similar to a minefield. You never know which word you step on could be the one word that blows up in your face.

“Thank you, Ginjer.” I kiss the top of Genny’s head before I walk away and send my silent mantra up to the heavens.

Please Lord, don’t let my daughter see me die today.

The ride to our assigned spot is filled with awkward silence with each of us lost in our own fears and mental pictures of what is to come. I never thought about death as much as I do now. I took every day for granted with the monotonous chores that life held. The alarm went off at the same time every day. I went to work on the same road, sat in the same space at the same building, talking to the same people and most times eating lunch at the same place. Death was only a joke then, where as now, the only punch line that death holds is its own. Death laughs at us now and it has taken back the mantel of terror it should hold.

Our “team” consists of Alicia, Collin, Peyton and myself. Our sedan is something that would have once been deemed a luxury car with its leather seats and now novelty upgrades. The speaker system it once boasted would be a threat to use now. Its wide body is cumbersome to fit through the many wrecks and hazards that fill the road. The high price name brand means nothing to the things we hide from. It’s pure karma that at one time the well-to-do out lived us all with their lifestyle and luxury, whereas now, we blue-collars own the world. What is left of it, anyway.

The road becomes clogged as soon as we find the brick wall built to help reduce the roaring road noise from the first rows of houses. Cars sit with open doors and vacant seats sending ominous emotions through our car. Fall has claimed those parked around us with piles of her leaves, but winter is making her mark as the leaves wither and fade.

Suitcases once packed in haste are opened and scattered around the area. Their items are discarded in random piles, hinting that we are not the first survivors to come this way. Broken bicycles, stripped of their chains and tires, are wedged under cars providing a picture of how this scene started long ago. The area is now deserted, but even with as much as it is hinting at, it still clings to the secret of how it may have ended up this way.

Collin coasts the car past the once cheerful sign advertising the newly-constructed neighborhood. It is eerily calm around us with only lines of well-fed black crows watching us with their cocked heads from rooftops. Sidewalks with their bright, white concrete that was poured for picturesque family walks escort us down the road. Homes stand like bones of a castle with their long, lost memories of times gone by. Their painted doors stand opened by force; brittle splinters are all that remain in some cases. Some lawns are filled with destroyed items that may have once been treasures to their rightful owners. Some lawns contain worse.

Human remains with their time worn decay watch us with missing eyes. Their bones are exposed with the damage from weather and scavenging. Jaws lay open as testimonies to their last screams. It is a warning to us as we enter here. These people thought their world was safe and secure only to discover the cruelty of the truth. What makes us think we are any different?

Please Lord, don’t let my daughter see me die today.

“Do we have a plan?” I say and I didn’t mean for it to sound as condescending as it did. My mind wanders to my daughter and coats my tongue with bitter emotions with being away from her.

“Most of these houses look ransacked already. I want to drive a little further in just to be sure we are not setting up camp in someone’s back yard. We have enough to contend with as it is.” Peyton says and he makes sense. His awareness speaks of some of the possible struggles his group has already faced. Once again, I am reminded of how lucky we are with our row of “private housing”. It is just depressing that an invaded crypt is now serving as prime real estate for us.

The sights before us do not become any less macabre the deeper we travel. The homes are not as abused but here death is more prevalent. Fallen, destroyed corpses are no longer confined to random locations. They fill the lawns and sidewalks, sometimes in patterns of long rows of bodies laid out under unknown circumstances. The flies are thick like a dark, shimmering haze around the bodies. It is the first hint that not only did these people suffer, but also they were brutalized.

Some sway from the ropes fastened to the long branches of trees like over ripened fruit. The creaking of the rope is constant like a ticking hand of a clock. The small shapes in faded pastel clothing is indicating that not all were adults when the ropes were placed around their necks. Children with their faces destroyed from decay and animal scavenging stare down at us as we drive past.

“What the Hell…” Collin whispers the words that fill all of our minds.

“Do you see it?” Peyton’s voice is forced and humbled.

I don’t want to examine the area around us to figure out what it is he has spotted. The images will haunt me with the brief glances I have already taken.

“What do you think it means?” Alicia is watching it all with the silent strength she possesses.

“That there are more forms of madness than we already expected.” Peyton’s answer causes me to battle against my weakness and once again stare out the window.

I had not seen it before with how I refused to let my eyes rest on any one area too long. Now as I stare into them, I see it. The discoloration around the bodies is not from fall’s destruction of greenery or proof of their gory-laden deaths. It is from fire.

“Stop the car,” Peyton demands with a voice guarded and tense. “I want a closer look.”

Our exit rings out into the silence with the clicking of the car doors. Standing around so much death and the risk of what did it maybe still lurking sets our nerves on edge. Every crunch that our feet make pulls our eyes to dance around us with trepidation. We follow Peyton not because we share his curiosity. The three of us just don’t want to be caught standing alone.

“Look,” Peyton points to the first section of bodies lying together in random positions. “The ring of fire never touched them. It’s not what killed them.”

“Then what is?” Alicia asks while Collin and I pretend to be keeping an eye on our surroundings. It is better than admitting that we don’t have the stomach to explore the question.

“There are holes in each skull.” Peyton is moving the decayed heads with the toe of his shoe to examine them, hoping to gain a better idea of what happened here months ago as he walks past them.

“They were shot?” Alicia’s voice holds shock and distress. “Why light a ring of fire only to shoot them?”

“The ones in the trees don’t appear to be shot.” Collin has been staring up, trying to rid his mind’s eyes of what is around us. It is a hard task to do with bodies being everywhere.

“There are no children in the circles either. Just in the trees.” Alicia’s observation does not bring any of us comfort or answers.

“Look,” Peyton says again, and I am beginning to dread his observation skills.

He is squatting close to the base of the tree, tracing his fingers through a pattern that has been carved into it. A pattern I have spotted before.

“I saw that when we first came in. It was on the back of the sign, the sidewalk and on some mail boxes.” I watch Peyton’s face contorts with emotions.

“Is it a symbol of some kind?” Collin bends down beside him, curious as what it may mean.

“It is not a symbol. It is letters. Greek letters. IXOYE.” Peyton sighs after sharing his revelation. The knowledge it brings him makes his head shake as he stares up into the trees. Tiny shoes sway with a sudden breeze as if excited legs kick with the pieces coming together.

Collin is slowly recovering, like myself, from the sights around us. He grows more curious with his boldness. “What does it spell?” He asks, finally genuinely interested in what is around us.

“Jesus Christ God’s Son Savoir.” Peyton’s voice is weary and disappointed in what we have discovered. “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.”

Alicia no longer hides her shock as she stares as the horror around us. She asks him, “A religious group did this? Why?”

“Why a religious group would claim to do what they do in the name of God? I’m sure the people of Salem would love to have that chat with you.” Peyton stands, seeing the area around us with sad, tired eyes.

A new depression has fallen over us. It was one thing to acknowledge the destruction left behind by the events we have all become accustomed to have taken place. There is now a thicker layer of sadness bearing the markings of what humanity has left behind. That is something we had not expected with such a degree of deranged cruelty.