Remnant

Several years ago, after completing and publishing my book "Sanctuary" I began its sister story, "Remnant".  On a note pad I outlined the entire book, set it down then all but forgot about it.  I was cleaning out a filing cabinet a few weeks ago and found the note pad.  After reading it, I decided I should probably finish what I started.  So, for motivation, I'm stating publicly that I WILL finish this book.  Not sure why it's been so hard to write. Maybe it's become boring to me.  Maybe it's because this set of characters aren't the type I usually write about. In any event I have begun to write and below is the first few hundred words (I haven't divided it into chapters yet).  Let me know what you think.  Is it worth it to keep going? The book takes place in the same time frame as Sanctuary.  However, the characters, although not exactly opposite, are morally different from their Sanctuary counterparts.

"Remnant" Chapter 1

Darkness immersed itself in every corner of the room.   Light had not been present since the last battery, drained of life, left the remaining light bulb to slowly flicker and fade away causing the room  to be void of all illumination.  The quarters had been well stocked as it had been prepared for many people to stay for as long as necessary for it to be over and safe once again to be in the world.  Unfortunately, the room's sole inhabitant had not rationed the supplies as intended at the beginning of the confinement. That is not to say that supplies had been misused. The occupant had attended many meetings on the care and intention of each item which had been carefully selected and stockpiled. However, being only 15 years old, she didn’t pay as close attention as the older people. She didn’t think she needed to because her family would be there to take care of her.  Only recently, when there were but a few batteries left, that inventory of the room had been made and rationing had begun.  There had been no exit plan, that she knew of.  The length of stay was unknown to her.  Shortly after the inventory, it had been decided by a unanimous vote of 1 to 0 that an exit would be made when there was but a month's worth of food and water remaining. Fear had extended that date by 2 days.

"It's now or never," grumbled Samantha as she rolled off the mattress and stood, stretching wearily.  "I hate this place, don't know why I stayed this long.  This is worse than jail.  I hate the dark." Samantha groped around in the blackness until she found her clothes, dressed, shivered in the cold, then sat back down on her bed and tried to remember where the exit was. She also tried to remember what the room looked like when she first entered, alone. Cold. She remembered it was cold and sterile, like a warehouse with beds. Running her fingers through her dirty, unkempt hair, Samantha wondered exactly how long she had been there. No one had thought about putting a clock in the room. “I wouldn’t have used it anyway,” she mumbled to herself. “I wonder how fast hair grows?” she said out loud as she mentally measured her long, stringy hair which once brushed her shoulders and now fell well past her elbow.

"Go, mom said.  Go to the bunker and the rest of us will catch up to you.  I went.  I left the house, the town, climbed the path up the mountainside to the cave entrance." Samantha said to no one, remembering the sun shining through the forest, lighting her way, contradicting the smell and sounds of destruction that pushed her forward into the cave. She never understood why she was sent alone in such a hurry, why absolutely no one came with her.  "I entered the cave, far in the back was a thick metal door....oh, yeah, it's this way."  Samantha turned left, hands stretched out in front of her, stumbling through the blackness towards the front of the room. She had not ventured to the front of the room, to the door, since the lights had gone out.  "Oh, crap," she mumbled as she stubbed her toe on something in the dark.  Reaching down to feel the culprit, she groaned, "Oh the dead battery box."  She had meant to put those away, but never did.  Pausing, she regained her bearings and started walking again until she once again tripped on something. "Crap!! What the hell?  Oh, stairs."  Samantha's hands reached down and felt the stairwell.  Stairs straight ahead, bunker wall to the left, another wall further to the right.  Hand rail for the stairs on the right.  With her right hand she grasped the railing and with her left she leaned forward and felt the stairs, occasionally picking up and tossing trash or clothing out of the way.

Samantha noticed a slight temperature change as she neared the top of the very tall metal staircase, slightly warmer but not exactly warm.  The cave was deep in the mountain and her room had remained cold throughout her stay.  Here, at the entrance, the temperature rose but only by 3 or 4 degrees.  She wondered what the weather would be like outside.  Summer? Winter?  Would she open the door to a blizzard?  Would it be warm enough for shorts or would she need a coat?  As she pondered these things another thought, an unpleasant thought, entered her mind. Would there be anyone on the other side of the door?  Would it be safe to leave? Should she risk certain death by leaving or stay and slowly starve to death?

"NO!! I will not stay in this hell hole another minute!!  If I get killed then at least I'll be out of my misery once and for all."

Cold, trembling hands felt the walls until they found the steel door.  Slowly, they patted the door, feeling and listening for any movements on the other side and struggling to find the way out.  "Come on, damn it, where is the latch?"  Samantha's left hand bumped into something, "Ow." It was the round wheel that turned the locking mechanism.  She felt it and all around it, pausing at the door frame where it met the wall, feeling and listening.  When she was satisfied that it was safe, she slowly turned the wheel and turned and turned.  The latch was deep inside the mountain and worked like a corkscrew. The door itself was a 2-foot thick slab of “invasion-proof” metal as her father had explained.  After several dozen turns, the lock clicked loudly.  Samantha froze, trembling on the inside, wondering if anyone else had heard it.  Her heart was pounding, knees shaking, but she dared not let go of the wheel. She thought that if anyone heard it and tried to come in, they'd simply push her with the door and she could hide behind it.

As her heartbeat slowed, and her legs regained their confidence, Samantha took a deep breath and pulled gently on the door.  It didn't budge.  "Crap. Damn, double crap!" she screamed, then caught herself, forcing her hand to her mouth, just in case.  Standing there, hand over mouth, her eyes looked, searching, ears listening for anything.  Silence, dead eerie silence.  "Whew."   Mustering up all the determination she could, Samantha braced her left foot high against the mountain wall, gripped the wheel with both hands and tried once again to open the door.  She pushed and pulled with all her might, screamed at the door, cursed the mountain, until finally, just as she was about to give up, it moved.

A couple of inches.  That's all, a couple of inches towards the inside of the bunker.  But, it was enough to let in the brightest, most blinding light ever seen.  So bright, Samantha dropped to the floor and covered her eyes with her sweatshirt.  The pain of the light was so unbearable she instinctively reached out to shut the door, but her hand retreated at the last moment.  Instead, with her eyes covered, Samantha ran, slipped, and slid down the stairs to the furthest, darkest corner of the room.  Tears streamed down her face as she cowered in the corner, alone, afraid, with horrific searing pain in her head.  At this moment, she welcomed an enemy invasion.  Nothing could be any worse than how she felt right there, sitting in a corner of a bleak bunker, deep in a mountain, where she had been for at least a year, if not many more.

“Mommy,” Samantha whimpered softly.  “I need you, Mommy.”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the pain began to subside.  As she awaited relief, the bunker's sole occupant listened.  Her ears, which had become her eyes long ago, struggled to hear for any signs or sounds of movement, signs of life outside the bunker.  After hearing nothing, she began to wonder why.  Surely the wind still blows?  As a child, high in the mountains on a warm summer's day, sounds of life in the valley below could be heard - car horns, sirens, dogs barking, children playing, the wind blowing through the trees, and occasionally the roar of a bear. The sound of nothingness was frightening when she expected some sort of sound. She had become used to the silence with the door closed.  Solitude had been her existence in the bunker, would it be the same outside the bunker? Inside, she knew where everything was, what it looked like, felt like and what it sounded like. She was comfortable with the familiar.  Outside, the silence was unfamiliar, incomprehensible.  Would it be that way much longer?

Samantha closed her eyes. Fear was exhausting. Opening the door had sapped her of her strength and now that emerging from her self-titled jail was a reality, she was too tired and too afraid to move from her hiding place in the corner of the room.  "Maybe I'll leave tomorrow.  What's the rush if there is nothing out there?  I'm doomed to die alone anyway so what difference does it make if I die here or out there?" she thought, holding her knees tightly to her chest.  "But, but maybe my family... maybe I didn't close the door too soon.  Maybe they went somewhere else and they have just been waiting for me to come out." 

With tears welling up, Samantha remembered feeling the mountain shaking not too long after locking herself in.  She had waited for her family to come. She waited at the cave entrance. They didn’t come. Then she waited at the door to the bunker. They didn’t come. However, she remembered there was that moment that she knew that if she didn't shut the door now, right now, that well, she just knew it was time.  The mountain shook. The mountain rumbled.  The mountain groaned.  Not just once but many times over for many days and nights until she completely lost track of time. Never once did she hear anyone knocking to be let in even though she had gone to the door frequently to listen.  Eventually, after what seemed like months, the mountain stopped shaking. Then there was the silence.