by DeVere, Taya
The images of bruised, swollen limbs gnaw a hole in her chest. Small relentless teeth chew and nibble on her until her whole body is filled with burrowing rodents. But instead of worms, the tunnels are filled with something more dreadful: Violence. Sin. Regret.
Her throat feels swollen. Breathing is hard. Too hard, like the devil himself sits on her broad, curvy chest, holding on to her neck with two flaming hands.
The yard around her spins. Like a small girl stuck on a carousel that is spinning around too fast, she begs for it to end. She prays without knowing how. For all of this to go away. For the Beast to leave her be.
Enyd falls to her knees. Mud splashes around her, staining her white gown. She sinks her hands into the dirt, her knees sinking deeper into the wet ground.
“Be merciful to me, oh God. Wash away my sins. Wash away all my evil. Make me clean from my sin.”
They are Samuel’s words. No—the reverend’s words. Or are they her own?
The rain gets heavier. Images of Ava’s swollen face won’t leave her be. Neither will those of Hannah, curled into a sobbing ball in the red corner of the basement room. Blood dripping off the old wooden chair. The boys, taking off their leather gloves, stashing away their rolling pins.
Until next time.
Enyd wails at the images. Screams at the AR-cameras. The videos. All the blackened fingers and broken bones.
“What to do? What to do? What to do?”
Ignoring the wet mud smudged across her face, Enyd wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
“I have to kill the Beast. Save them from the Beast. Samuel, just give me a sign…”
The pressure grows at the back of her head. Margaret taps her. She’s been tapping her for a while. But Enyd keeps blocking the connection.
So crowded… in her head. So much noise. So much sin. Too much Beast. Too little Samuel.
The pressure grows more demanding. Two people. Both tapping her at the same time. Would they be able to hear each other? Margaret and the reverend? How does this madness work? Does it even matter?
With a long exhale, she lets go. The connection opens. Meaningless, empty words take over. Two voices mixing with each other.
“Enyd, whatever it is you did, you only did it because you had to blah blah. If the Chipped don’t get their blah blah blah. They’d stop sending you blah.” It’s the reverend’s voice.
Meaningless. Emptiness.
“Come back. Blah. We can blah blah. Blah.” Margaret. Pleading, foolish Margaret.
What do they know? They’re never there when the rolling pins come out. They just check in to judge her, to argue, or to check the score on the bulletin board.
She presses her forehead into the wet ground and weeps. “Just one sign… any sign… Show me how… Guide me…”
But all she sees are the images.
Hannah’s belly bump.
Ava’s blurred eyes sedated with blockers and pain.
The London Eye—covered with blood, corpses, guts, and limbs. Some of it isn’t real. Which part? What is?
“They are sinners. They need to be punished for their sins. Open that Bible of yours, Enyd. Read. Soon you’ll see. Everything you do here is for the greater good.”
Enyd closes her eyes and imagines the white, plastic-covered Bible. Every scratch, every perfect imperfection carved on its hard cover. Each made by Samuel. His rough but loving hands.
The Bible is grounding. It helps her slow down her breathing. Helps her sit down in the rain.
“I have the chip. I am marked. Doesn’t that make me a sinner?”
“And what if it does? And aren’t you paying for those sins now? Isn’t this your absolution?”
Somewhere across the yard, someone yells her name. A young man. Not Samuel. Samuel is in paradise. He earned his place in forever after as he died from the plague. A good man. God’s gift.
A long scratch on the back of the white-covered Bible. The smooth surface of each prayer bead. A rough but gentle hand. A reassuring smile. Samuel was right. How can he not have been? About everything.
“Samuel. A sign… please.”
She pushes her weight up and off the ground. Standing up, she can feel the phantom pain of Samuel’s prayer beads against the palms of her hands. She presses her hands into fists, just as she’s seen Ava do a hundred times. “In him, we have redemption through his blood.”
“That’s more like it. You’re only doing God’s work. The sacrifices we make are for all of us. For our place in eternity. We must earn it. They must earn it. With chip credit.”
Like Samuel did. Like he would if he were still here. But he’s not. It’s just Enyd and the sinners. A deaf woman with two endlessly hungry young men who have grown to enjoy violence. Ava. Hannah and Noah. The baby.
She blinks rapidly. That’s it. A sign. The sign.
Baby Samuel.
***
Enyd ignores the aching of her ankles. Ignores the children staring at her as she makes her way through the backdoor and the downstairs hallway. Her mud-soaked gown leaves a wet trail on the wall-to-wall carpet.
Curious heads peek out of bedroom doors. “Why are you still up? It’s bedtime, go, go, go!” she yells. She doesn’t turn around to see whether they are obeying her orders or not. They would. They will.
Enyd makes her way to the library and shuts the door. She walks across the room, pushes the office door open, and closes it behind her. She can barely hear the sound of the rusty lock clicking from all the blood and adrenaline rushing in her ears.
A steady, nagging pain starts from the back of her head. It could be Margaret tapping her; it could be the reverend. It could be that antichrist, Kaarina. The one who walks through the valley of death without collapsing. Her pale skin had been bruise-free. Her steps steady and strong. Only a thing of true malevolence could survive the plague.
But Enyd will burn this place down before she’ll let the she-devil walk through Kinship Care’s front gate.
She unlocks the drawer and pulls out the AR-glasses. It’s almost ten p.m., but Nurse Saarinen will answer Enyd’s call. She carries her AR-set everywhere. Like the pathetic, controlled sheep she is, Nurse Saarinen lives inside that devilish thing. Worships the Beast.
This time, the sharp pain at Enyd’s temples hardly makes her wince. Shaking—out of rage, not fear—she stares at the neon-red trailer, flashing in front of her eyes.
“Arnie, call Nurse Saarinen. City of Finland.”
CALL INITIATED
She’ll show them all. Punish them. She’ll make them suffer. For the greater good.
Three white dots appear on the screen. While Enyd waits for Nurse Saarinen to pick up, she stares at an advertisement. A pill to soothe minds and relax bodies. Accessible to anyone living in the city. VIP pill for VIP people. More sin for the sinners.
The three dots vanish against the neon-red background. Nurse Saarinen doesn’t turn on the camera, but her voice booms in Enyd’s ears. “Enyd? Is everything alright? It’s awfully late.” Nurse Saarinen sounds more baffled than irritated by the unscheduled call.
“Everyone who does evil hates the light and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.”
The line goes mute. Finally, Nurse Saarinen says, “I don’t do riddles, Enyd. What is it you need? All calls should be—”
“It’s not a riddle. You and everything you stand for are evil. You practice ungodliness and spread error concerning the Lord—”
“Enyd, that’s enough. Let’s end this before you say something we’ll both regret. The video is already streaming. The airship is on its way to you. It’ll arrive first thing tomorrow morning. Just be ready with the laser around 8 o’clock. Now go to bed, okay?”
Enyd’s voice rises. “The hungry they leave empty, and from the thirsty, they withhold water.”
“Have you lost your mind? Enyd, you have over a hundred children to take care of. Get ahold of yourself.”
Enyd gasps for air. She stands up,
makes a cross on her chest. With her voice steady, she says, “Jesus did not eat anything for forty days and forty nights. At the end of that time, he was hungry.”
“At the end of that time, he would be dead. Enyd, may I speak with Margaret? Is she there with you?”
Enyd reaches for the glasses and pulls them away from her face, just enough for her to see the AR-camera blinking in the corner of the room. She breathes steadily, self-assured and at peace. Then she says, “We won’t be sending you any more videos. We don’t need your charity either. Do not send us any more food.”
“That’s just absurd, let me talk with—”
The AR-glasses fall onto the floor. Enyd’s rubber-soled slippers hover above them. She steps on the glasses, stomping, breaking—trying to crush them into little black pieces. When the glasses are twisted up beyond repair, Enyd hurls them against the wall and stomps out of the room.
***
The airship looks like a small cloud up in the distance. The early morning sun beams down through the clouds. The food delivery is on time, just as it always is. Enyd carries a laser pointer and its tripod, rushing to get to the farthest hill on the premises. It’s the closest one to the red glowing city and at the opposite side of the yard from where the cargo usually lands.
Too focused on working the tripod, she doesn’t stop Margaret from entering her mind.
“Enyd. The boys. Are smashing. Arnie. Almost all cameras. Are. Out. What is. Going on?”
Shaking her head, she blocks the connection. Good. The boys should be finished with the last of the cameras any minute now. Arnie has left the building.
Enyd hurries toward the highest point in the yard. She’s done this a hundred times, using the old military technology which the cities now use for transporting goods. But never has she aimed the laser anywhere other than Kinship Care’s backyard.
The airship is now close enough for Enyd to read the letters painted on its side.
CHIP-CHARITY
Taking stumbling strides, defying the never-ending pain in her achy ankles, she makes her way up the hill. She places the laser target designator down. Once the tripod stands sturdy on the slippery ground, she clicks the device on. Carefully she turns the laser pointer until the red laser beam points outside the fence line. With the CS-key locking them all in, no one will be able to reach it. They will all stay. The higher power will take care of them. Samuel will look after them.
Enyd points the laser further, two green hills down and toward the city.
“Enyd! No!”
It takes her a moment to realize who is yelling at her from the home’s back door. The voice is somehow off yet familiar. It must be the first time Enyd has heard Margaret scream out loud.
Enyd moves her focus from the woman—running and slipping on the puddles left behind by yesterday’s rain—to look at the airship. “Come on, come on…” Almost there. Behind her back, she hears Margaret slip and land on the ground. It takes her a moment to get back to her feet. That has bought the ship some time.
The Beast can keep their cursed goods. God will provide them with everything they need.
The children will learn.
Enyd will lead them all into salvation. No more co-operating with the devil. They will find their own way.
Catching Enyd by surprise, Margaret pulls her away from the tripod. Enyd slips and lands in the mud, softly enough to not break any bones, but hard enough to feel a nasty twinge in her left hip. Enyd reaches for the tripod on the ground. The red X is nowhere to be seen.
“Have you. Lost. Your. Mind?”
With all the strength she has left, Enyd pushes Margaret aside. Then she crawls forward, toward the fallen tripod. She stumbles to her knees, then moves to stand. Her feet slip on the wet soil, and she falls back down on her backside. Sliding downhill, Enyd watches as Margaret crawls toward the laser pointer, her desperate eyes flickering between the tripod and the approaching blimp. It’s very close now. In less than a minute, it will cross the hill Enyd wants the cargo to land on.
Margaret gets to the tripod. She places its legs back into the ground, points the laser into the middle of the yard. This is where the supply has landed for the last two years. “You want. Us to. Starve?” Enyd had no idea the woman could sound this outraged.
Slowly, careful not to startle Margaret and send her running down the hill with the laser, Enyd gets up. She tries to wipe some of the mud off her pants and jacket but ends up smudging it more. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Margaret. What was I thinking?”
The deaf woman’s too busy holding onto the tripod and keeping the laser pointed in the middle of the yard to read Enyd’s lips. Enyd has to tap her. I’m so sorry, Margaret. I’m not sure what got into me. Enyd takes a few steps uphill and toward the woman. You want me to do it? Sometimes the laser wobbles a bit.
“I got. This.”
Her back to Enyd, Margaret stares through the lens, doing her best to keep the tripod in place. Enyd takes another step closer. Then another. You need to tilt it a bit better. If the X is not centered, it may not take. Enyd looks up. The blimp is now traveling across the hill where she meant the cargo to land. Do you need help?
“It is. Centered. We’re fine.”
Just as Margaret looks away from the lens and up to the sky, Enyd launches herself at her. This time the tripod stays upright. Only the two women land on the wet ground. With two hands, Enyd pushes Margaret down the slippery hill. She rolls down the hill like a dreidel, trying to grab onto something to break her fall. A surge of adrenaline helps Enyd scramble up from the ground.
Enyd tilts the laser pointer back up and aims at the hill the airship’s hovering over. The blimp’s sensors hit the X. The cargo bay doors open, releasing dozens of drones to deliver white plastic boxes of all sizes. One by one, the goods glide through the air and fall neatly on the hillside. Another successful food delivery from the City of Finland.
Only this time, it’s not going to end up in the kitchen pantry.
As the blimp throws its shade across the yard, Margaret climbs up the hill. She stands next to Enyd, staring at a month’s worth of food, medicine, and supplies in the distance.
“I do not. Understand.”
Enyd turns to Margaret so she can read her lips. “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.”
“They’re children. They need food.”
“It’s the Beast. Satan’s work. It has been all along. The Lord, your God, shall you worship and Him alone shall you serve.”
“Why are you. Talking like. That. All the. Cameras. Are destroyed.”
Enyd’s eyes drill into Margaret. “Are you questioning my words, Sister? Because he speaks through me. Is it your intention to keep his commandments?”
“He would not. Let us. Starve. Enyd, this is. Getting way out. Of hand.”
Margaret turns to leave. Her steps create distance between Enyd and her.
It starts to rain again. Enyd looks up to the sky, looks for the airship, but can’t see a glimpse of it. Out in the distance, the white boxes lie in a neat circle. One of the boxes has landed wrong. It lies on its side, its lid cracked open, but Enyd’s too far away to see what’s inside.
She hears the back door shut with a bang. Margaret will come around. She always does. She’s too weak to rise against Enyd. Too weak to do anything without her. Just like the rest of them. The boys will protest, of course. They love their food, even the crappy crispbread and the bland porridge they spoon up every morning. But they will learn to be humble. They’ll learn to control their urges, their filthy desires. Just like the boy whose sweater Hannah wears down in the basement. Enyd doesn’t need proof. God sees, and she will do his dirty work. They will all feel the consequences of breaking the rules under Enyd’s and Samuel’s roof.
No more sinning.
Enyd picks up the tripod. She folds the legs and tucks the target designator under her arm. With careful steps, she follows Margaret. The wind tosses r
aindrops into her face, but she barely notices. It’s finally here. Her calling. Samuel’s last wish.
A half-smile lingers on Enyd’s lips as she walks through the rain and wind. A new-found strength in her step and the tripod swinging under her arm, she marches back to the house. At the back door, she stops to listen. It’s quiet. Like the whole world is waiting for her next move. For Samuel’s move. God’s.
With one strong pull, she opens the partly jammed door and steps inside. In the distance, she hears hurried footsteps, hustle, chaos. But she’s not worried or rushed. She has the rest of her life to put things in order. She’s now in full control. As she should have always been.
She sets the tripod by the doorway. Tapping for Margaret, a calm, soothing sensation takes over her body. When the words echo through her mind, she’s not sure if they are hers or whether they belong to the reverend, Samuel, or God himself.
“For those whom the Lord loves, he disciplines. And He scourges every son whom He receives.”
***
The soles of her rubber slippers squeak as Enyd makes her way up the stairs. It’s quiet. Too quiet for it to be noon in Kinship Care, home to more than a hundred people.
“Oliver? Thomas?” Her call sends little footsteps running away behind the closed doors. Why would the children hide from Enyd? Can’t they see they are finally free?
Enyd needs to find the boy. Noah. She needs to show him what he’s done.
A door opens to her right. A small, round face peeks out. Owena blinks rapidly, staring at Enyd. She stops by the little girl, kneels down to talk to her. “Owena, be a good girl and point me to Noah’s bedroom.” She should remember, but it’s usually Margaret, Oliver, or Thomas who deals with the teenage boys.
Owena tilts her head from side to side. Her wide eyes never leave Enyd as she contemplates her request. “Why? Is Noah in trouble? I like Noah. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. Did he steal bad things, Sister Enyd? Are you going to send him to hell?”
It’s Enyd’s turn to cock her head in wonder. “Bad things?”
The girl nods slowly. “Did Noah steal a machine that controls minds? Like Ava did?”
