From the Shadows

  FROM THE

  SHADOWS

  BOOK THREE OF THE LIGHT SERIES

  JACQUELINE BROWN

  Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline Brown

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Falling Dusk Publishing.

  www.Jacqueline-Brown.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art designed by Aero Gallerie

  Also by Jacqueline Brown:

  The Light: Who do you become when the world falls away? Book One of The Light Series

  Through the Ashes, Book Two of The Light Series

  Before the Silence, A Light Series Short Story

  To receive your FREE copy of Before the Silence please join the mailing list, or visit www.Jacqueline-Brown.com

  This work is dedicated to all who have taught me how to love, most especially my parents.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  One

  The images in my mind came and went, mixing with the images of the world in front of me, blurring the line between what was real and what wasn’t. It was always worse this time of day, when the light was beginning to fade and I was waiting for Jonah and the others to return. They never left me alone, but those who stayed were no comfort. Not anymore. The slave girl we rescued—or perhaps she rescued us—never spoke. She occasionally made eye contact, and even that seemed difficult for her. But her silence was a welcome reprieve from Sara’s unrelenting judgment.

  Sara sat quietly now, pretending not to watch me, but she always did. I wished she wouldn’t. I wished she’d leave me to my thoughts without trying to change them. Day after day this proved impossible for her, and day after day I struggled to remind myself that I loved her.

  Now, as the sun was dipping low in the sky, it was hard to not see the iridescent blue turning to a faded gray as life drained from Trent’s lifeless eyes. I felt no fear, at least not this time. All I felt was sadness. True deep sadness, the kind that wakes you with tears from the darkest of dreams. But I wasn’t dreaming.

  It had been three weeks since Trent died—since I killed him. I wondered if it was my connection with him, my once-felt love for him that kept him in my mind, or if it was the unremitting guilt I felt over ending his life. Either way, he was there and I could do nothing to stop it.

  I thought of Haz. He’d killed before. He’d told me, not by his words, but by his silence. Jonah and East too, but they killed to save those they loved. They traded the life of an attacker for that of Quinn and JP. Perhaps if my killing had been noble, Trent wouldn’t be haunting me. But it wasn’t noble; it was selfish.

  I understood that Trent deserved to die. He was, at least in the end, everything this world did not need. I even knew his death might have saved other innocent people from being killed, if not by him, then by his orders. Logically I understood all of this, and yet he was there. If my eyes were open or closed, it didn’t matter. He was there.

  A time or two, I thought the visions of him were part of the concussion, that not only my mind was broken, but my brain too. My sight hadn’t been blurry for at least a week, and the headaches had receded from all day to only sometimes. My brain was healing, but my mind was not.

  ***

  The day after I killed Trent, we moved farther into suburbia. At each house we came to, I slept, and for the first few days Jonah slept beside me. East was often near us, allowing her ribs and bruised body to heal. As the days went on, East joined the others. A few days after that, Jonah remained by my side, though he no longer needed to. His broken right arm remained tied in a sling; his leg had healed, and he was no longer limping. I tried to push myself, to allow us to go more than a few miles a day, but when I did, my vision blurred, and though I never told my friends, they always knew. They’d find a deserted house where I abandoned myself to sleep for the rest of the day and night. What my friends did while I slept I wasn’t sure. I knew at least part of the time they were scavenging. Every time I opened my pack it was filled with clean clothes and fresh supplies. That was the silver lining of being near houses—plenty of closets to dig through.

  For the last four days we’d been at a shack that had been deserted long before the light hit. A shelter hidden deep in the shadows of the trees. I wondered what it had been like before the walls were rotting and the roof was mostly gone. It was only one room with no bathroom, but I liked it here. We were safe here.

  There was no kitchen in the tiny shack, but that didn’t matter, since fire cooked our food. If it was raining, which it often was, or if it was night, we used the stone fireplace beneath the partially rotted roof to cook our meat. Otherwise, we sat here, around a small blackened patch of earth covered by orange flames. Within the hovel, wisps of thin green grass danced in the wind.

  We thought it must be the end of April; we didn’t know the date, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the land was alive and vibrant. And the ground around this shack was prettier than most. I supposed that was why this cabin was here in the first place. It was built at a time when people saw what the land had to offer, not what developers said it had to offer. Whoever built it understood what we did: fresh water and high ground mattered most, and this place had both—along with rich vegetation that ensured a good home for plenty of game. There were no traces of other humans. If others had stumbled across this place, as we had, they would have stayed. There would be no reason to leave.

  Though we saw no humans, there were plenty of predators. The rest of our group often came back to camp discussing signs of large paw prints, fur- and bone-filled scat, and the howling of dogs or baying of wolves. I heard the calls at night, and when Jonah was lying next to me I moved my body to touch his. They would never bother us, not when the scent of our numbers was so strong. Still, they invaded my dreams, often mixing with the memories of scattered bones and shredded clothing from a train torn open like an aluminum can.

  ***

  Now the sun was low, and the flames of the fire licked the pieces of the turkey Haz had speared earlier in the day. I tried not to peer into the fire, though, like most times, it was like a magnet drawing me to it. Its dancing flames entranced like TV had once done. But it was in the flames that Trent hid, waiting to ambush me with memories of our time together. It always ended with his lifeless eyes staring at me from the blood-soaked earth.

  He was there, so I forced my eyes from the flames. They landed on the girl, my accomplice in Trent’s murder. She sat watching me as I blinked, trying to clear the vision from my mind. Perhaps someday she would tell me who had actually plunged the knife into his neck.

  Even if it was her, I held the guilt. What she did, she did to save me, and that only added to my guilt. I blinked again.

  “Are you thinking of Trent?” Sara asked, from across the wavering flames.

  She was usually here with me. She didn’t enjoy hunting, but today she had stayed for a different reason. The hunting had finished early. Today they were scouting and she ha
d stayed with me, because she said getting that close to ‘the stones,’ where her sister’s journal said they had gone, and not going to them would be too difficult for her.

  I didn’t respond to her question. There was no reason to. We’d had this conversation over a dozen times. She would tell me it wasn’t my fault and there was nothing I could’ve done. I would say I should have known what he was capable of or that I should have left long ago. It would go on like that until one of us got too angry to continue.

  “Why do you always let him control you?” she asked, her voice curious as she sat with her knees pulled toward her, her head and hands resting on them.

  I lifted my head. This was not how the conversation was supposed to go. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, in life and in death, that man controls you. Why?” she asked, her face puzzled and sincere. She was legitimately curious, not just trying to tell me to pray about it or move on.

  I glanced at the girl—her eyes big and brown, filled always with fear. She peeked back at me, but offered no hint of an answer.

  Somewhere in the distance a whippoorwill said its name over and over as the sun continued to sink behind the earth.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” I answered.

  “The truth,” Sara said, and I could see the hope in her eyes. This was the start of a different conversation, one that might not turn into a fight.

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  “But you see that you allow him to control you?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t allow him to do anything. He haunts me and I can’t escape. I don’t choose it and I don’t want it.” I rubbed my forehead.

  “I think you need to forgive yourself,” Sara said, pushing a small log closer to the flames.

  “It’s only been three weeks,” I said. The thought of forgiveness after murdering my ex-boyfriend less than a month ago was impossible and perhaps even wrong.

  “No, it’s been since I’ve known you. I think that’s why we got along so well, why we became friends in the first place. We were both punishing ourselves, both running from our pasts, and we created a present where we kept running.”

  “That was a long time ago,” I said, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.

  “I know it was, but that doesn’t matter. Not if you don’t heal. Before we left your family’s house, we were both getting better. Probably because there is nowhere to run anymore, not really.”

  I opened my mouth to object, while she raised her hand to stop me.

  Sara continued, “Then we left the safety of your place and we saw what the world has become, and it’s really horrible. It affected each of us in our own ways, but it affected you the most.”

  Her eyes were on mine as if daring me to deny the truth.

  “And then Trent somehow returned from the bowels of hell and offered you the pretense of an easier life. Maybe that’s what he always offered you. Except it was always a façade and what he actually offered was misery and even this time, with Jonah by your side, you didn’t see it.” Her tone was that of a parent frustrated and tired of having told a child time after time to stop doing something dangerous.

  I tried to calm the heat rising within me. With anger came the throbbing pain in the back of my head, where the skin was tight and newly formed.

  “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think that’s part of this—that I didn’t see him for who he was? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? To know I was in love with a murderer? That I was the reason he was there, the reason he gained so much power and killed so many. And then I killed him. How am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?” The anger caused my voice to shake.

  “I’m not sure, but I know that until you do, you will never be free,” she said, her voice calm and superior, making me feel like more of a failure.

  I mumbled, “Maybe that’s how it was meant to be.”

  “Maybe you were meant to be haunted by your past and miserable for the rest of your life?” Sara said, her voice incredulous.

  It sounded stupid when she said it. “I don’t know, maybe,” I said, leaning my head into my knees, another wave of exhaustion coming over me. Why did I always get so tired when stuff got hard?

  “Bria, I love you,” she said. “You are like a sister to me, but that has got to be one of the stupidest things anyone has ever said. You seriously believe you’re supposed to be miserable for life? Do you think when God was creating you, he said ‘Ah, now, this one I want to have a totally miserable existence.’ ”

  “Does God do that?” If so, that would explain a lot.

  “No! God doesn’t do that. He wants you to be happy. He wants each of us to be happy. I was being sarcastic. How did you not get that?” she said in frustration.

  “I don’t know what God does or doesn’t do,” I shot back, glaring at her.

  Her body relaxed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten angry,” she said.

  The girl was staring at Sara now, and I wondered what she thought of her. Did she see the party girl turned religious zealot that I saw, or did she see the newly confirmed, devout Catholic that Sara believed herself to be?

  Sara rocked onto her knees, leaning forward over the fire, and flipped the pieces of turkey.

  In the distance, I heard the breaking of twigs and the sound of laughter.

  “Finally,” I mumbled to myself.

  Jonah was the first in sight. He was always the first in sight. We locked eyes, and Trent’s eyes disappeared. My body calmed, and the corners of my mouth lifted. It was with him that I was happy. It was in him that I saw the good in the world, the hope of something better.

  Two

  Josh and Blaise came and sat beside me, their fingers entwined, as always. “That turkey smells good,” Josh said.

  The smell of roasting turkey suddenly filled the air. It must have been there before, but I hadn’t noticed. Now it was all I could think of.

  “Your timing is perfect. It’s done,” Sara said, grabbing one of the sticks holding the bird.

  Blaise held the other end. Together they lifted it away from the flames and sat it onto a flat rock we’d been using as our serving platter.

  “How are you?” Jonah asked as he sat on the other side of me.

  “Great,” I lied.

  He frowned.

  East laughed, “I don’t know why you bother trying to lie, Bria. You’re so easy to read.” She was sitting on the opposite side of her brother. I owed her my life more times than I could count, but she still bugged me.

  As Haz eased down beside her, I knew he was torn. No one else noticed because no one else knew he thought Jonah was a criminal, with the prison tattoos to prove it. Haz’s feelings for East had grown. I was sure anyone could see that. Anyone except East, who was somehow immune to love and affection. And because of his desire to be with her and her frequent closeness to her brother, Haz was often unsure of his next move. Should he stand or sit by the woman he cared for or avoid her brother, whom he was sure was not to be trusted.

  “Really,” I said, “I’m doing good. My vision is clear and my head isn’t hurting right now.” I was thankful no one but Sara and Blaise knew that Trent haunted me.

  Sara and Blaise cut the turkey using the knives they still carried from Sara’s apartment. They placed chunks on each of our plastic plates. As always, the girl was handed her plate first. It was a rule that we had silently agreed on. The servant would now be served first. I wondered if her help in killing Trent was motivated solely out of saving me or partially out of revenge. I wondered if I would ever find out.

  “What did you see?” Sara asked, once everyone had been served and she had said grace.

  Haz and East exchanged a glance. A glance that made me nervous.

  East said, “You know how we’ve been seeing signs of people farther down the slope?”

  “Yes,” Sara said in a hesitant tone.

  “We saw a lot more sign
s,” Josh said.

  “What kind of signs?” I asked, panic building within me. The thought of other people and the terror that they brought was overwhelming.

  “Smoke, lots of smoke from lots of fires,” Jonah said, his right arm wrapped tight in a splint made of pieces of hard plastic and strips of cloth.

  “There were dozens of them and so close together! Like they weren’t scared of each other or anything,” Blaise said between bites of turkey.

  “Were you able to see anyone?” Sara asked.

  They shook their heads.

  “So, you think there’s a settlement?” I asked, my voice faltering as I thought of Trent’s thugs controlling the area.

  “If there is, it’s not like the others we’ve seen,” Jonah said.

  Sara said, “What do you mean?”

  “It was more spread out than the others,” Jonah said. “This camp or settlement or whatever it is, is spread over several acres and it’s in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t a city nearby.”

  “What difference does a city make?” I asked as I forced myself to eat the bitter greens Blaise and Josh had gathered on their way back to camp.

  East swallowed. “It means people there didn’t just walk out their front door or a mile or two to the local river. They had to want to get there,” she said.

  “So, if it’s not a settlement, what it is?” Sara asked.

  “I’m not sure, but we’ll be finding out soon,” Haz said, turkey grease dripping down his long, matted beard.

  My hands began to sweat. My head started spinning. I struggled to breathe as thoughts of people trying to hurt me poured into my mind. I tried to stay calm, but the panic was rising. I felt a hand on mine, another on my back. I forced the air into my lungs and then out. The racing thoughts started to slow and become more clear.

  Jonah’s voice was calm as his body touched mine, and he whispered, “Trent is dead, Bria, and this is not the beltway. There is no fence to keep us in. We can move closer and watch for a few hours or a few days. If we get the sense it isn’t safe, we won’t go near them.”