by Tillie Cole
As I glanced down in embarrassment, I noticed her hands were right next to her side of the fence, only inches from mine. Without thinking, I reached through and ran my finger across her knuckles. I just wanted to touch her, make sure she was real. Her skin looked so soft.
With a gasp, she snapped her hand back as if my touch were fire and she cradled it next to her chest.
“I-I-I w-won’t h-hurt y-you,” I croaked as quickly as I could force out, worried about the terror on her face… a face that was the same shape as a heart. I didn’t want her to be scared of me. My pop told me that folks needed to fear me, had to distrust me so I’d be safe. Most folks in my world, I knew, would see my signing as a weakness, so my pop told me I had to toughen up and use my fists instead of words. Now folks just thought I was dangerous. Like Ky said, I was born to be feared: the Hangmen Mute.
But right now I wished more than anything that I could trade all that in just to know how to talk right. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. Not the chick with the blue eyes—blue eyes the color of a wolf’s.
Sitting back in a trance, her wolf eyes drew me in. She looked like a ghost—no, a goddess—like the paintings on the wall at compound. Like the goddess Persephone, wife of Hades, the underworld God the Hangmen wore on their patch.
With a flicker of movement, the chick brought her shaking hand forward to the fence; the ice-blue and white flecks in her irises never broke my gaze, the whites bright as she stared at me.
I stayed completely still. The girl was like a frightened rabbit and I didn’t want to spook her. I’d never seen no one like her, my hands were getting damp and my heart was beating real fast.
Nervously, she ran a fingertip along my hand, a pink blush bursting on her cheeks. I fought to breathe, the too-fast thumping of my heart making me lose focus.
Bending my index finger, I hooked it softly ’round hers and pressed my forehead against the hard mesh wire.
The girl pursed her slightly parted pink lips and wiggled the tip of her nose. I stopped breathing… She was beautiful.
“C-come cl-cl-cl-closer,” I whispered, a hint of desperation in my voice.
Her nose twitched again and I smiled. “Y-you’re so-so b-b-beautiful,” I blurted out, biting my lip as an afterthought. My fists clenched as I grew more and more frustrated with my speech.
She frowned and shook her head and I realized she could understand me. I so badly wanted her to talk back to me.
“Wh-wh-why are y-y-you out h-here a-all a-alone?” The girl began to tremble, the whites of her eyes seeming to take over the blue.
She looked so lost and I wondered what made her that way. I wanted her to feel better, wanted that look on her pretty face to change from sadness to happiness. I didn’t know what to do.
Suddenly, I thought of the brothers at the club and how they made the club bitches happy. Before I knew what happened, I quickly leaned in and pressed my lips against hers through the tiny open space of the wire mesh.
Her lips were so soft.
I didn’t move my mouth, unaware of what to do, so I just left my lips locked on hers. I peeked open my eyes and her lids were squeezed tight. I closed my eyes immediately, hoping the moment would last a while longer.
Lifting my hand, I ran my finger slowly down her face, but she pulled away with a gasp. She stumbled back on her hands wiping furiously at her mouth, tears tumbling down her cheeks.
Fear overtook me and I blurted, “I’m… I’m… I’m… s… s… s—” I stopped and hit my hand against the fence, cursing God that I couldn’t ever speak properly. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to speak again. “I-I’m s-sorry… s-s-sorry, I-I-I d-d-didn’t m-mean t-to sc-sc-scare you,” I managed to force out.
She curled herself beside the tree again, her gray dress loose on her tiny body and her hands clasped tight as she silently mouthed something. It sounded like a prayer. I listened closer as she rocked back and forth, tears springing from her eyes. “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. Do unto me what ye deem fit. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. I was weak and must atone.”
“T-talk to m… m… m-me. A-are you okay?” I asked loudly, my voice growing stronger as I shook the fence, trying to find some way to get through to her. I didn’t understand it, but for some reason I needed to hold her. I knew I needed to make things right. She was so sad… so scared… I hated it.
The girl grew still, hushed to silence, and just watched me again.
“River? Where the fuck are you?” My pop’s deep voice cut me from my trance as he called me back from deep in the forest.
I dropped my head in my hands.
Not now, not now!
Straining my head back to the girl, I rushed out, “T-tell me y-your n-n-name.” I was desperate and I glanced over my shoulder, watching Pop stomp through the edge of the forest in the distance, searching for me.
“Puh… puh… p-please… a n-name… an-an-anything…”
The chick rocked faster, her pale lips moving once again in her prayer.
“River! You have five seconds to get the fuck down here! Don’t fuckin’ test me!”
“A n-name! I’m be-be-begging you!”
The chick stopped dead still, looked up at me—no, she looked through me—her blue eyes weirdly wide, and whispered, “My name is Sin. We are all sin.”
She choked on her words, expelling a frightened whimper as she heard my pop screaming from the bottom of the hill. Ducking into the heavy bush, she scrambled away on her hands and knees, suddenly crying out loudly as though in pain again.
“No! Don’t go!” I shouted clearly to her retreating form, but it was too late. I stepped back from the fence, watching the last of her long dress disappear into the darkness of the forest. An empty, sinking feeling almost made my legs stop working, but then my eyes widened and my fingers touched my lips in shock. My speech… my speech for the first time ever was clear and without a stutter… No, don’t go…
“River!!!”
I turned quickly, running down the hill toward my pop.
“RIVER!!!”
Pumping my knees higher I pushed through the tall grass, running back to my life—back to my pop and the MC; all the time wondering if I’d ever see Sin again…
…the chick with the wolf eyes.
Chapter One
Salome
Fifteen years later…
Run, run, just keep running…
I willed my tired legs to keep pumping. My muscles burned as though injected with venom and my bare feet were completely numb as they slammed onto the cold hard forest floor, but I would not give up… could not give up.
Breathe, run, just keep moving…
My eyes darted around the dark forest, searching for the disciples. None to be seen, but it was only a matter of time. They would soon realize I was missing. But I could not stay, could not do my pre-ordained duty to the prophet; not after what happened tonight.
My lungs burned with the severity of my sharp gasps and my chest heaved with overexertion.
Push through the pain. Run, just run.
Passing the third watchtower, unseen, I let myself feel a momentary sliver of joy—the perimeter fence was not too far away. I allowed myself the hope that I might actually get free.
Then the emergency siren wailed and I shuddered to a stop.
They know. They are coming for me.
I forced my legs to move even faster; thorns and sharp sticks jabbed into the soles of my feet. Gritting my teeth, I told myself, Do not feel pain. Do not feel pain. Think of her.
They could not find me. I could not let them find me. I knew the rules. Never leave. Never attempt to leave. But I was fleeing. I was determined to escape their wickedness once and for all.
Spotting the tall posts of the perimeter fence, my arms pumped with renewed vigor as I made the final steps of my sprint. I smashed against the rigid metal with a crash, the posts grinding at the force of my collision.
I frantically searched for a gap
.
Nothing.
No! Please!
I ran along each post—no gaps, no holes… no hope.
In a panic, I fell to the ground, clawing the dry earth, tunneling, digging for freedom. My fingers raked at the hard mud—fingernails snapping, skin ripping, blood flowing—but I did not stop. I had no choice but to find a way out.
The siren wailed on, seeming to scream ever more loudly, like a countdown to my recapture. If I was found, I would be watched constantly, treated worse than ever before—I would be even more of a prisoner than I was right now.
I would rather die.
How long have I been gone? Are they close? Panicked thoughts whirled in my mind, but I kept digging.
Then I heard the dogs closing in; the barking, snarling, rabid, vicious fury of The Order’s guard dogs and my digging became more frenzied.
The disciple guards carried guns; large, semi-automatic guns. They defended this land like lions. They were brutal and they always got their prey. I would be captured and punished, just like her. Tortured for my disobedience.
Just. Like. Her.
The search hounds were louder now, harsh, heavy panting and nerve-jangling barks getting ever closer. I swallowed back the cry threatening to rip free from my throat and continued digging, burrowing, scooping, shoveling—to be free. Always yearning to be free…
Finally free.
I stilled momentarily as I heard a babble of voices. Sharp commands sounded out. Gun barrels were loading, the echoes of safety catches clicked; heavy boots stomped closer and closer.
They were too close.
I almost shrieked in frustrated terror when I judged the gap under the fence did not look big enough to fit me. But I had to keep going. I did not have a choice. I had to try. I could not live one more day in this hell.
Headfirst, chest grazing the newly-excavated ground, I slipped through the tiny gap under the fence. The flesh of my shoulder grated on the ragged metal of the mesh wire but I did not care—what was one more scar?
Using my hands as claws, I dragged my body forward. I heard clear voices, the crystal timbre of the brothers; their savage dogs, consumed by bloodlust, as they howled with deliberately induced hunger.
“She’ll be searching for gaps or weak links. Secure the second team along the north gate. We’ll head for the south, and no matter what, FIND HER! The Prophet will bring the wrath of the Almighty on us all if she is lost!”
Quelling an anxious cry, I pushed and scrambled forward. I scurried through the dry mud, legs flailing in desperation. Deep scratches covered my skin. My white gown ripped and tore into shreds on spikes of jagged barbed wire, and I watched helplessly as my blood trickled onto the dry ground.
No! I almost screamed out in frustration. The hounds would smell my blood. They were trained to scent blood.
With one final push, my body was through, only my legs were left to go. I shuffled onto my back, heels digging in, striving for freedom.
A feeling, no, a flood of elation at the realization I was all but free quickly evaporated at the sight of a black hound skirting round a nearby bush. Focusing on a tree outside the fence—a goal to crawl to—I tried to pull myself forward, when a jolt of pain seared through my left leg. Razor-sharp teeth sliced into my flesh, and when I looked down, a heavily muscled guard dog held my left calf in its grip; snarling and shaking its head, tearing into fragile skin and muscle.
Paling with the severity of the pain, I fought back a growing sense of nausea. I slapped my palms on the forest floor, finding purchase on a large stone. Choking back a scream that was clawing its way up my throat, I dragged my mauled leg away from the fence toward my goal. The dog tried to force its large head under the fence, tightening its grip on my limb, shaking it back and forth like it was playing with a stick.
With the last of my energy, I attacked. The stone I had dragged myself with came loose in my hands and I hit the dog’s skull over and over and over, its bared fangs dripping with white-red foam, its hellish black eyes burning bright with anger. The disciple guards starved their hounds to make them bloodthirsty and forced them to fight each other to make them permanently angry. The disciple guards reasoned that the hungrier their dogs were, the more vicious they would be when hunting down deserters.
Inhaling through my nose, I tried to keep focus; I just needed to loosen the dog’s grip, just a fractional release to let go of my injured left leg.
And then it happened.
With a final crack of the stone, the incensed canine reared back, shaking its bruised head. I dragged myself free of the shallow gap, my breath coming in short sharp bursts as my body reacted to the shock.
As I shuffled away from the fence, a wry thought sped across my mind; I had actually done it. I am free.
The dog, though groggy and recovering from its hit, lunged for the gap. Once more it snapped its large jaws and sharp teeth and with it, me from my haze. Edging forward, I quickly filled the gap with as much mud as I could gather, then tried to stand, but my injured leg could not take the strain, could not bear my weight. Inside, I cried, Not now! Please, Lord, just give me the strength to keep going.
“Here! She’s here!”
A black-uniformed disciple emerged from the dense foliage, glaring furiously at my crouched form beyond the fence. He removed his balaclava and my heart fell. I would recognize that long scar on his cheek anywhere. Gabriel, Prophet David’s second-in-command; his brown heavy beard hiding most of his face, as was custom with all the brothers at The Order. However, Gabriel was the disciple my people feared most, the man responsible for the atrocity I witnessed tonight… responsible for me losing her…
Tutting and shaking his head, Gabriel inched forward, crouching low to meet my eyes. “Salome, you foolish girl. You didn’t think you could just leave, did you?”
A smirk spread across his face and he leaned even closer to the metal barrier. “Come back through and face your punishment. You’ve sinned… badly…” He laughed patronizingly, the other disciples followed suit. Every square inch of my skin crawled in horror. “It must run in the family.”
I tried to ignore his taunts. With a subtle search, I scoured my surroundings, searching for an escape route. Gabriel suddenly straightened and narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t even think it. We will find you if you run. You belong here, with the Prophet, with your people. He is waiting at the altar, and after the events of today, he is eager to proceed with the ceremony. There is nothing for you outside of the fence. Nothing but deceit, sin, and death.”
Crawling to my tree, my goal, I used the rough thick bark to lift myself up off the forest floor. I tried with all my might to block out his words, but I faltered in my footing. More disciples broke through the dense brush to watch me stumble; their large guns aimed, with perfect precision, at my head.
They could not, would not, shoot. Prophet David would not allow it. I knew I held the balance of power right now. But even if I managed to break free today, they would never give up the search for me—I was what they all believed had to happen. I looked down at my tattoo on my wrist, rubbed across the script and read the inked passage that had been forced upon my skin as a child. I just did not believe in The Order anymore. If this made me a sinner, then I was glad to be a fallen.
Ignoring my trembling hands, I reached down, ripping along the bottom of my gown, tearing a long strip of material from the hem. I tied it around my open leg wound to stop the blood.
“Salome. Think it through. Your disobedience will cause severe punishment on all of the daughters. Surely you would not do that to your sisters? On Delilah and Magdalene? Cause them pain because you were weak and gave unto temptation?”
Gabriel’s calm tone chilled my heart. My sisters. I loved them, loved them more than anything… but I had to do this. I could not go back, not now. I had the wake-up call I needed to finally take the leap, to escape. I knew there had to be more to life than this existence… than with them.
With one final glanc
e at the only family I had ever known, I turned, dragging my left leg in my wake, and fled into the murky denseness of the forest.
Run, just keep running…
“Damn her to hell!” Gabriel screamed, his voice shrill with his command. “File out. Take to the gates and spread out. DO NOT LOSE HER!”
They were on the move. The gates were not far away, but far enough to give me precious time. I just needed time.
Shuffling deeper into the forest, I forced myself to move quicker. I pushed myself hard, running my body to its breaking point, my prayers accompanying every step. I did not scream, did not even cry when I was hit by low branches that tore at my face or when every inch of my body was being flailed by overgrown bushes.
I knew I was bleeding badly. I was hurting, but I kept going. Even bruised and battered, I knew my alternative back in The Order was far worse.
Passing tree after tree, the darkness closed in. I avoided snakes and critters as the hours passed, but I did not stop. The moon shone high above me as daylight faded and I grew weaker—my blood flowing in a constant slow-moving stream from my leg. I re-dressed my wound with more soiled material but, most of all, I was not found by the disciple guards. I was tired… but I kept pushing myself on.
Then, finally, when I had reached my physical limit, hope almost lost, I found a road. With renewed vigor, I stumbled down a steep hill, landing hard on the graveled concrete of the bumpy pavement.
My conscience congratulated me that the disciples had not found me… The disciples did not find me. But I could never let down my guard. I could not be free until I was far, far away.
I limped along the side of the road, a quiet deserted lane. The chirping of crickets and the hoots of owls were the only sounds in the darkness. I did not know my location. I had never before left The Order.
