Bitter Falls

by Caine, Rachel

  “What’s the reckoning?” I ask Harmony. She doesn’t answer. She looks tired and very grim. “We’re in trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she snaps, which shocks me. It doesn’t seem like something someone who buys into Father Tom’s women-aren’t-human shit would say. More like something my sister would, though. “Connor, it’s clear Father Tom doesn’t want you. You need to stick close to me, and whatever you do, don’t trust anyone else unless I tell you it’s okay. Do you understand?” It’s a harsh, serious whisper.

  She’s got that Mom presence and energy, and I just nod.

  Then she says, “They’re opening the side gate. Someone’s coming in.”

  I twist to be able to see what she sees. The men crowded up at the little door in the fence pull somebody inside, and I can’t see who it is. Please, don’t be my mom. I’d feel so relieved if she was here, but I don’t want her here either. Not now. Not like this. I’m barely keeping it together, and if they hurt Mom . . . I just can’t. I can’t.

  “Who is it?” I ask Harmony. Maybe she can see better. She’s taller. But she shakes her head.

  “It’s just a young woman,” she says. “Strange. She shouldn’t be here.” She turns away from the window and looks at me. “Do I need to lock you in a closet like Aria suggests? Or will you give me your word to do as I say?”

  “How do you know I wouldn’t lie?”

  She smiles just a little. It makes her look even less happy. “I’d know,” she says. “Connor, did you hear what he said? About culling the herd?”

  “I don’t know what it means.”

  “It means we’ll have to draw lots,” she says. “Women and children alike.”

  I stare. “Like . . . like in that story? ‘The Lottery’?” It was a creepy story, all about a normal place and normal people but one person gets chosen and the whole town kills them.

  “Just like that,” she says, and my whole body wants to cringe, bones and all. “That’s the culling. Only it won’t be death by stoning.”

  She sounds scared and sick and angry. Just like me. But she’s keeping her voice low, so quiet that I don’t think the rest of them can hear. “I promise,” I tell her. “I’ll be good.”

  She just nods. “They’re going to bring that girl in here,” she says. “Whatever happens, stay quiet. Promise.” She stiffens as Aria drifts closer to us. “Hush now, boy.” She’s louder, so Aria can hear. “You’ll do as you’re told without question. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” I say. I can see Aria reflected in the glass, staring at us.

  We turn away from the window, and Sister Harmony leads me over to the others, then turns toward the door. I do too. I can feel Aria’s stare digging into me from behind, and I don’t know how I ever found her pretty. I hate that I kissed her. I’m thinking about that because my brain won’t shut up; it’s pinging around from one thing to another—Mom, Sam, Lanny, hating myself, being scared, being angry, wanting to smash Caleb’s face—and I can’t slow it down. I’m still cold. I still stink, and the smell keeps making me remember how helpless I felt out there in that water, with Father Tom ready to pour it over my head. I don’t know why that scares me so much.

  There’s a rattle of keys outside. Harmony composes herself, gaze down, hands folded, and all around me, the other women and girls do the same. The kids do it too—even the toddlers. It’s weird and scary.

  The door opens, and Vee Crockett walks in. I almost blurt out her name, and the relief at seeing a familiar face is intense. My brain even goes quiet for a few seconds, stunned by the weirdness of seeing her here.

  But this isn’t the Vee I know. This one is wearing one of Lanny’s old plaid button-up shirts and warmup pants and she’s got all her makeup washed off. She looks way younger this way, and kind of sweet.

  And scared.

  “Prisoner,” Caleb snaps. “She says she’s from Wolfhunter. She says her mother told her about us. Keep her here until Father Tom confirms she was a recruit. Father Tom says the reckoning will be coming. Until we say different, she’s your responsibility.”

  “Stray lambs are always welcomed,” Sister Harmony says without looking up. “God be praised.”

  “God be praised,” everyone echoes, but from Caleb it sounds sour. He’s looking at Vee in a way I don’t like. “Get her cleaned up and into modest clothes. Father Tom will want to talk to her. We’ll see what her real story is.”

  Harmony nods, and Caleb shuts and locks the door again. I stare at Vee and open my mouth, but she quickly looks away, and I realize she doesn’t want me to talk to her. So I don’t. But I’m burning to know why she’s here and where Mom is and what the hell is happening.

  I spot one of Caleb’s RV guys looking in a window. He’s watching what we do. Sister Harmony must see him, too, because she turns to the other women and kids and says, “Let’s be to our beds. Lights out, please. I’ll keep one on here until our new brother and sister are settled.”

  “He’s not our brother,” a voice says from near the corner. Aria, all bright, bitter eyes and smiles. “He’s going to be a saint. Father Tom said so.”

  “Silence,” Harmony snaps, and Aria’s smile goes away. “Do you want me to report you as prideful and rebellious?”

  “No, Sister.”

  “Then do as you’re told, Aria.”

  One by one, the women and kids go to their beds, climb in, and turn out their small lamps. It’s like watching stars go out, and once it’s down to just the single, dim light that Sister Harmony takes from her bedside table, I feel the darkness pressing in on all sides like we’re in the middle of a black glass globe. I feel like the air’s gotten thicker. My breath keeps moving faster, but I feel like I’m not getting any oxygen.

  I don’t like the dark. I never did.

  I want to talk to Vee, but I can’t, not yet. She was clear about that. “This way,” Harmony says, and leads us to the farthest set of beds—not near the door, but near the cribs at the other end. They’re made up, but unoccupied. “You, girl, what’s your name?”

  “Vera. Vee.”

  “Your name is now Sister Melody.” Harmony opens the trunk and takes out the standard uniform—long skirt, plain shirt—of the sisters. “Put those on. You may change there, in the robing room.”

  Vee suddenly turns to me and says, “You look super familiar to me, but you ain’t from Wolfhunter.” That lets me know I’m not supposed to recognize her. And I quickly wonder why. But then I realize Vee can’t trust Harmony. She can’t trust anybody but me.

  “I was on TV,” I tell her. “That’s probably why.”

  “Oh yeah,” she says. “Sure. Are you here by yourself?”

  She’s asking about Sam without mentioning him. I say, “More or less. I’m with my dad. But he’s in another building.” She nods, and I know she’s got it. “Where did you come from?”

  She shrugs and looks a little ashamed of herself. I know Vee, but it still looks like real stuff to me, even though I don’t think Vee’s been ashamed of herself in years. “Father Tom came to see me when I was just a little girl, and I always wanted to join up; my momma just wouldn’t let me, but she’s dead now. I was going to join the Assembly there, but—but the enemies destroyed it.” She turns toward Harmony, who’s watching us with very sharp eyes. “I guess you heard about that?”

  “The Assembly group in Wolfhunter sinned,” Harmony says. “They were greedy.”

  Vee looks down, and she seems really, really meek. She’s picked up on how to act awfully fast, but then again, she did live in Wolfhunter. “Yes, Sister,” she says. “Did Brother Carr make it here? I was told he was trying.”

  “Were you.” Harmony’s tone gets cold. “Brother Carr has joined the saints.”

  Vee’s startled by that, and she glances up at me, then quickly away. “Oh,” she just says. “Okay.”

  “How did you get here?” Harmony asks.

  “Walked.”

  “Walked,” Harmony repeats.
“It’s a very long way from Wolfhunter.”

  “Well, I hitched for part of it.” Vee says. “Thank you for the bed. I’m so tired.”

  Harmony’s studying her carefully. As good as Vee’s act is—and it’s pretty good, she’s sticking close to truth—Sister Harmony is smart and careful. Vee starts to reach for the clothes that Harmony’s set out on the bed.

  Harmony grabs her wrist and holds her still. She lowers her voice to a low whisper I can hardly catch and says, “Who sent you?”

  “Nobody,” Vee says. She keeps it just as quiet. “Nobody sent me.” It’s weird, but I think she’s telling the truth.

  “You came alone?”

  Vee nods. Harmony’s face twists up, like she’s angry; I see her grip on Vee’s wrist go hard enough that the girl winces. And that’s not good. Vee hits out when she’s hurt, I know that, and I feel the rush of fear inside me. She doesn’t know there are rules here. That people might get killed for her breaking them.

  I say, “Hey, you’re hurting her,” to Harmony just as I see the dark flash in Vee’s eyes and her other fist tighten up. Harmony lets go, and Vee sinks down on the bed. There’s a red handprint where Harmony was grabbing her, and Vee rubs at it, glaring back.

  That’s when I realize that there are tears in Harmony’s eyes. She isn’t angry. She’s desperate. She wants so badly to believe that someone, anyone, is coming to stop this.

  That’s when I know for sure I can trust her. But I know I can’t trust any of the others in here, so I say, “I have to go to the toilet.”

  “Yes, go,” Harmony says. She doesn’t even look at me. I don’t move from where I’m standing until she finally does. “What?”

  “Uh, it’s dark,” I say. “And I don’t know where it is.”

  She makes an impatient noise and grabs the lamp. “Come with me, then.”

  Vee gets it. Instantly. “Can I come too?” she asks. “I—I need to pee.”

  “Bring your clothes. You’ll change there. I have to search you.” Harmony’s voice is shaking. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know she feels trapped. I do too. I feel like Vee showing up is the best thing and the worst thing all at once. If she’s here, I have to think that Mom’s not far behind. And probably other people too.

  Day of reckoning. Maybe Father Tom was right.

  The long bathroom at the back of the room doesn’t have a door, but it does have stalls with curtains that pull closed. I’m warmer now, and I put the damp blanket in a woven laundry basket and go to wash my hands. I leave the water running and turn to Vee and quickly whisper, “Vee, you can trust her. It’s okay.”

  Harmony’s head whips toward me, then back to Vee. “You do know him,” she says to Vee. She keeps her voice low, barely above a whisper. We all need to. “I thought so. Tell me, quickly: Are the police on the way? Did you send them?”

  Vee doesn’t answer her directly. She looks at me instead. “You’re sure about this?” She means about Sister Harmony.

  “Yes.”

  “Your momma didn’t want me to do this. I had to get here myself. But I knew I needed to get inside and make sure you were okay. And I knew I could, ’cause . . .” She swallows. “Father Tom will remember me.”

  “How’d you even get here? You didn’t really walk?”

  She rolls her eyes, and looks exactly like the old, familiar Vee. “I stole some old guy’s truck couple of houses down from your place. It ran out of gas a couple of miles back and I had to walk the rest of the way. But your mom and those others, they won’t be far behind.” She takes a deep breath. “And the FBI, too, I guess.”

  Vee suddenly hugs me, and it feels good, really good, to know there’s someone here who knows me. Really knows me. While we’re in that hug, she whispers, “I got this for you.” It’s like a magician’s move the way the switchblade appears in her hand, and she presses it into my palm. I quickly slide it into my shirtsleeve, then step back and put my hands in the pockets of my stiff, weird pants. The knife slides down. I’m armed now. I don’t know how I feel about that.

  Harmony doesn’t miss the exchange, fast as it is. “Didn’t they search you at the gate?”

  “Ain’t no Bible-thumper going to search a lady’s butt crack,” Vee whispers, and grins.

  Gross. I wipe my hands on my pants.

  “We can’t stay here,” Harmony whispers. “Someone will come soon. I can’t trust some of the women, or any of the girls.”

  Vee says, “Is there anybody here who would fight to get out? Whatever it takes?”

  “Yes,” Harmony says. “I can count on five of the women. We have some weapons. We knew it might come down to something like this in the end, and we aren’t going to go quietly. Not this time.” She blinks, and I see tears forming in her eyes. They shine in the lamplight. “How did you find us? Really?”

  “There was a girl named Carol,” Vee says.

  Harmony puts her hand to her mouth. “Carol’s still alive?”

  Vee nods.

  Harmony whispers something I don’t catch. It might be a prayer.

  I say, “Your five, plus you, plus the two of us . . . that’s just eight against a whole bunch of armed men. I know you want to fight, but do you maybe have a plan?”

  She opens her mouth to tell us, but two things happen in quick succession.

  Aria walks into the bathroom and says, “What are you doing in here?”

  And just a second later, I hear the sound of men shouting outside.

  And a rattle of gunfire.

  Something’s just gone very, very wrong.

  25

  SAM

  It’s time for the final E in SERE. I know I came damn close to dying at the pond this time; I nearly choked myself on that chain trying to stop Connor from going into the water. He didn’t know what was going to happen, and I would have done anything, anything, to stop it. Killing myself seemed a small price to pay, if they wanted a dead saint.

  This last-second reprieve doesn’t feel like victory. Our time’s run out. He’s going to kill my son. He wants to.

  I’m not going to be in better shape for escape than I am now. I have to gamble everything on one throw of the dice.

  Being half-dead has its privileges, and one of them is that the man assigned to take me back to my box has to help me up the hill. It’s not easy moving someone who’s stumbling and uncoordinated, and I accentuate it to the point that he gives up and lets me fall. I grab on to him on the way down. He’s got keys clipped to his belt, and since I’m falling anyway, and distracting him with trying to take him down, too, he doesn’t feel them slip away.

  He’s one of the guys from the RV, and I hope that means the ring has an ignition key for the vehicle, plus the keys to my handcuffs. He won’t be looking for his keys to open my cell; it’s a combination padlock. So I’ll get a little time before he realizes they’re missing.

  He tosses me into the dirt inside the shed and slams the door. I hear the lock being slotted back in and clamped shut.

  I hear him leave.

  I try the keys on my cuffs with unsteady fingers. Hypothermia’s really setting in now; I’m shaking like a tree in a hurricane as my body tries to spin up enough heat to protect my core. I’m not worried about that; it’s when I stop shuddering that I’m in real trouble. But it makes trying the keys extra difficult, along with numbed fingers and exhaustion and doing it in the dark.

  One of the keys finally slides into the cuffs on my ankle, and at a twist the left one is free. My side is burning where I was bandaged. I have to rest for a few seconds before attempting the right. My hands are going to be tricky, but I try to keep calm and keep at it, and after way too long I finally manage to unlock one wrist. The other’s a piece of cake.

  The chain’s a damn good weapon, provided I can use it properly. It’s heavy. I double it up and test using the closed loops of the cuffs as a handhold. Makes a hell of a flail.

  Now I need to get the damn door open. I already inspected the hinges; they’re
outside, so no help there. But I’ve been methodically digging up the dirt under the doorway and putting it back in the same hole, whenever there wasn’t a guard on duty. Digging a little deeper each time. I have loose-packed dirt in a hole about six inches deep, and now that I need it, I can scrape it out deep enough that I may be able to slide under.

  It’s not quite enough. I use the handcuffs as entrenchment tools and deepen the trough another three inches, all the way across. It’s hard work, and painful. I try to ignore the ticking clock getting louder with every second that passes, and the liquid sound of the breaths I’m taking, and the pain in my shoulder and side and my throat. Sooner or later, the guy I took the keys from will notice their absence, and he’ll know exactly where to look. I need to be gone.

  The inky darkness is my friend as I slither under the heavy door. For a horrible few seconds, I can’t summon the strength to push myself out when I’m halfway through; I have to lie still and gasp for breath and fight against the pulsing red pain. I’m bleeding again. It’s a slow leak. Shut up, you can make it. I push and swallow the groan as my wound presses and scrapes against the edge. Sweat burns my eyes. One more.

  I push, and my hips slide under and I roll over and crawl to my hands and knees, then to my feet. I’d been so focused I forgot there was normally a guard patrolling around, but he’s gone, drawn off by the orders that Father Tom gave out at the lake. Day of reckoning. It’s coming for all of us, I think. Me especially if I screw this up.

  I limp to the darker end of the building and use the cover to get my breath back and try to form a plan. I need to get to the RV, get on board, drive toward the gates, and honk the horn like mad; Connor will know what it means. He’ll come running, or try. Once I’ve got him, I’m going to ram the gates, and if these assholes get in my way, so be it. That’s their choice. Mine is to save my son.