The Final Remnant: A Post-Apocalyptic Christian Fantasy by Terry James & Heather Renae

Author:Terry James & Heather Renae [James, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781639771103
Publisher: CKN Christian Publishing
Published: 2022-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

BLOND

Doctor Ophir was not at all pleased by Asher’s treatment of Caden’s face. Caden didn’t know what she was saying, but her waving arms and pointing fingers had made Asher frown. Caden tried to hold back a smile, but it was difficult. He couldn’t smile after that because, later that day, James had called him over, holding a pair of pliers and a bottle of whisky.

Caden hadn’t been one for a drink, but happily indulged as he wished his left molar goodbye. He offered some whisky to James, who looked nervous, but he quickly refused. “Alcohol and I are not compatible,” he had said. “It can change a man.”

Caden smiled, his face flushed with the liquor, and scoffed. “Makes you something nasty?”

“No,” James said. “It loosens my tongue, and secrets are no longer safe with me.”

“Have lots of secrets or something?” James had smiled, but the Viper around his neck turned its angular head and stared at Caden. He stopped asking questions after that. He honestly didn’t remember his tooth getting ripped out, but the soggy gauze and constant bloody taste in his mouth were ingrained into his memory.

It was worth it. Everything had changed after learning Caden could actually have a chance to find Ellie. He had something to live for, someone to fight for. Something to distract him from the agonizing loneliness he felt whenever alone.

He should be hearing Trace talking incessantly about a bug or weird thing he found. He should be looking for his little brother, hoping a Freak hadn’t found him or a talking animal tricked him into doing something stupid. Caden rubbed his head with a knuckled fist, hating himself whenever those thoughts haunted him.

He could still be out there. People survive bullet wounds. He might be starving. Paralyzed. I’ve got to go back-

His knuckles dug into his temple and he gritted his teeth. With a gasp, he stopped his shuffling steps and stared at the floor. Ophir’s footfalls padded behind him. “Keep going,” she whispered. “You are doing so well.” He dragged in a breath and coughed, trying to ignore the crushing weight of despair. He looked ahead and kept walking.

He was in a hall between the kitchen and the dining room. It was the only flat floor inside no one really traveled through. Over the past few days, Caden had come to the hall to practice walking.

It had gotten easier when his cast had come off. Talk about a heart attack, watching Elijah take a hammer and chisel to the hardened clay and mud had been terrible. Asher had offered many times to hold Caden down, though Caden wasn’t moving. The two young men avoided each other like the plague. Whenever they did make eye contact, Asher had a talent for making Caden feel squishable. “Don’t touch my mom,” Asher said loud and clear through those narrowed eyes.

Elijah hadn’t said anything, but he had a killer glare too. It only happened once, over dinner on the first night that Caden wasn’t bedridden. Over venison, some flatbread, and dandelion, leek salad, Caden had caught him staring.

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