Those Who Prey

by Jennifer Moffett

  “Wait. Did this count as—?”

  “Yes,” she interrupts, handing me a sheet of paper. She slips her arm through her backpack strap and disappears behind a cypress tree.

  As I begin to total my Time Evaluation Chart, I notice a new verse printed in small, tight handwriting at the bottom of the page: Ephesians 5:15-16: Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.

  I drop my forehead into my hands. How am I supposed to make the most of my time when my DP runs off and abandons me in the middle of a field? Why does Kara always make me confused and frustrated? Yes, Heather was overbearing. And definitely judgmental. Even annoying, at times, but I always knew what she was thinking. I’m not sure why I was assigned to Kara in the first place, only to live outside the villa away from the other interns. It doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to speak to Josh even in passing yet. A strong breeze stirs through the field. I look around. It’s just me and the trees. I stand up. If I hurry, maybe I can catch up with Kara.

  * * *

  I’m on the wrong road. I know it. I’ve never had a good sense of direction, and I wasn’t paying attention to where Kara led me because I had no idea she was going to bolt. I must be turned around. All of the cypress trees look the same, and I can’t remember where we entered. Dread hangs over me, seeps into my gut, but I keep walking, hoping the next turn will reveal a familiar path.

  I walk by a patch of poppies—have I passed by those before? I stop and turn all the way around. The vineyards and groves of gnarled olive trees all look the same. The twisting narrow roads look the same. Even the villas look the same. My doubt sharpens into fear, as I try to ignore my lingering sense of panic.

  Keep walking. You’ll end up somewhere. But what good would that do? I don’t have my passport or any money.

  As I’m wiping my eyes, a cat darts across the road and onto a narrow path, too quickly for me to get a good look. “Dolce,” I call out, but she keeps walking as if on a mission. I follow her bouncing tail through a row of vineyards. Twigs snap under my feet as I rush to keep up. The cat stops and rubs her side across the grapevines. Her tail curls high in the air like a question mark, just before slipping through another row. I stand still, waiting for a sound. The rustle of the trees tickles my ears. I walk to the end of the row, where I see large slate steps leading up a hill.

  I climb the steps. The slope is steep, and at the top, a blue rectangle of water shimmers in front of a small villa. The grass is neatly trimmed and the pool is clean, but the villa appears unoccupied. The cat is scratching her back against the concrete surrounding the glistening pool. Her feet point to the sky, and I see that one is orange. Definitely not Dolce.

  For the first time in days, I laugh uncontrollably. I feel elated and unhinged and disconnected from everything I once knew. I sit beside the cat and take off my shoes. Scooting to the edge, I ease my feet into the cool water. All of a sudden, being alone seems fine. I lean all the way back, my feet still in the water, and absorb the heat of the sun.

  I squint my eyes against the bright sky. Plump clouds drift slowly overhead. I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t here for our mission, if I was just a student abroad, free to roam and travel. No invitations or stickers to hand out, no strangers to approach. No pressure. I could leave these people. I could get Josh to come with me.

  A metal door suddenly rattles open. I slosh my feet out of the water just as a gray-haired man emerges from a small shed beside the pool. His eyes dart in my direction just as he begins mumbling in rapid Italian.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say as I scramble to put my shoes on.

  He continues talking in Italian as if expecting me to understand. He doesn’t seem angry, just confused.

  I look at the cat rolling around on the concrete. “The cat? I thought it was—”

  He cocks his head to the side. “California, yes?” he asks me slowly.

  Not sure what to say, I smile and shake my head no. I instinctively rush to the steps. When I reach the bottom, I pause, surprised not to hear any protests from the man. He’s whistling as he resumes his work.

  I make my way back to the road with no idea where to go, yet this time I’m calm and at peace, as if the absurdity of the situation will somehow spontaneously fix itself. In that exact moment I look down the hill and see a giant cross wavering against the sky. As I get closer, I see Andrew holding the cross upright while Josh digs a deep hole. Just beyond the cross, I see our villa. The relief is overwhelming. I keep walking until I reach them. I smile.

  “Hi,” I say.

  Josh appears surprised to see me. He’s sweaty and out of breath. “What do you think?” he asks.

  “I think you saved me,” I say.

  Andrew’s eyes widen, but Josh is smiling just like he used to back in Boston.

  “No. I mean, I was lost. Literally. Kara took me to a park for our BT, and then she had to leave and I couldn’t find my way back.”

  “I saw her going into the office earlier,” Andrew says. He freezes as if checking himself, unsure of whether he should have blurted that out before thinking it through. He keeps glancing at Josh while trying to balance the cross, which must be heavy.

  I desperately want to talk to Josh privately. “Hey,” I say to Josh. “Do you think we could … talk?”

  He glances at me, and quickly turns back to help Andrew. “I’m a little busy right now.”

  I exhale my frustration. Even though he’s probably still upset about Andrew, why wouldn’t he jump at the first opportunity we’ve had in three days to talk one-on-one? My cheeks flush as I turn to leave. The sharp sounds of digging continue as I walk toward the villa to find Kara. If Andrew just saw her, then she’s probably still there.

  The office door is closed shut, but I can hear Kara’s muffled voice inside talking to Will. I start to knock, then pause. The voices sound tense. I hear Kara say, “You promised.” Her voice is soft but angry.

  “God has a plan for me,” he answers. His voice is calm and distant as if he’s patiently waiting for her to finish throwing a fit so he can finally be alone in peace.

  “In California?”

  “Stop asking her questions about my wife, Kara. I knew better than to trust you to be a DP.”

  Kara speaks in a lower tone. “Really? What were your other options? To have Shannon be mine and ask me about all of my sins so she could tell her family back in Boston?”

  There is a long silence. I hold my breath.

  Kara speaks so quietly that I almost can’t hear what she says next: “My entire existence is a sin and you know it.”

  I hear movement in the room and hurry away, my mind racing faster than my feet as I rush back to the safety of our building.

  I slow down my pace when I round the corner to our private entrance. As I get closer, I see our door is cracked. Kara locked it when we left; I remember her struggling to get the key in right the first time. Or maybe that was yesterday? Time has already begun to blur here.

  “Hello?” I push the door into the dark room.

  Quiet.

  The shutters are fastened tightly. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness. A wave of exhaustion leaves me dizzy. I start to crawl into the bottom bunk to rest, not even bothering to shut the door. I pause. There’s something at the foot of my bed—a bulky cloth pillowcase secured with brown twine, strung through a small piece of folded paper. I pull the twine, open the note, and hold it up to the light from the doorway.

  TRUST ME is written in all caps.

  The pillowcase moves. I freeze as I realize something is inside it.

  My first thought is Dolce. Then I hear her loud hiss from the top bunk followed by a guttural growl. I look back down at the pillowcase to see it gliding to the edge of the bed, moving of its own volition. This is ridiculous. I reach out to grab the bag to stop this nonsense just as it tips and falls beside my foot with a significant thump, the twine securing it loosening.<
br />
  Before I can react, an enormous black snake slides out of the bag, slowly curving itself to the side. It’s one of those moments where one would imagine you’d scream, but real terror is a funny thing, and sometimes it leaves you unable to move, as if weighted down with ten thousand pounds that won’t even allow for breathing. I stand there and watch the snake slip to the corner of the room in a horrifying fluid motion as if it’s trying to find a way out. It lifts its head to test the air, then races through the sunlight toward the door.

  * * *

  I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on top of Kara’s bunk, my knees up under my chin, all of her sheets and pillows strewn across the room, when she finally walks in.

  After one glance, she rushes up to me. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m still clutching the tag that says Trust me. I thrust it at her, my hand shaking violently. Kara’s eyes furrow over the message. She hands it back to me, but I let it fall on her bed. My breathing turns shallow, and I start to suck in deep breaths. The room appears wavy as my vision narrows into a dark tunnel.

  “Oh my God. Seriously, Emily. What happened?” Kara tries to make me get down, but I slap her hand away, too scared to stand on the floor.

  “There’s a snake,” I say.

  Kara exhales. “What? Emily. You have got to calm down.”

  “There. Was. A. Snake. On. My. Bed. And you want me to calm down?” My trembling voice is beyond my control. I swat her arm away again when she tries to guide me down.

  “I don’t see anything.” I notice Kara is looking around the room. She picks up the sheets and shakes them out. “Are you sure?” she asks me.

  “It went out the door,” I say. I curl up onto my side trying to take in air. Just breathe.

  She glances at me with concern as she folds the sheets. She places them in a neat stack on top of our dresser. She kneels down onto the floor and looks under the bed. I hold my breath until she pops up again. “It’s okay. Honestly, Emily. You can relax. There’s no snake, I swear. Nothing is in here but us.”

  “Kara. There was a snake. In a bag. With a message.”

  Kara gets quiet, pensive. “It wasn’t meant for you,” she finally says.

  “What do you mean?”

  Kara crawls up onto her bed and sits cross-legged by my feet. She puts her head in her hands for a few seconds. Then she looks up at me, her eyes straightforward and honest. “It was meant for me.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. The words are far away, like they aren’t my own. I can’t tell which way is up or down. Everything that’s happened settles on top of my chest and I suddenly can’t breathe.

  “Whoa,” I hear Kara say. I lurch forward with the overwhelming desire to run, but Kara stops me and guides me to lie down. The words “I need to leave” repeat on a constant loop in my mind. I feel my chest heaving. It actually hurts and the sensation scares me. My mind whirls as if someone spun it too hard. I cannot form a coherent thought. As soon as the spinning begins to slow, a terrifying realization blooms inside of me: I’m going to die.

  I roll over to rock back and forth.

  Kara shakes my shoulders. “You’re going to hyperventilate if you don’t listen to me,” she says. Even her long black hair seems threatening as she unfolds her legs and leans over me.

  I’m going to die. You don’t understand. I am going to die.

  Tears stream down my face, pooling into my ears, yet I feel completely detached from my body.

  I hear Kara jump down and hurry across the room. She rustles a paper bag from her drawer, steps up onto my bed to reach me, and puts it over my mouth. “Here, breathe in this. Slowly.”

  I concentrate on breathing. One, two, in. One, two, out. A nagging sense of panic slithers back into my thoughts, threatening to capture my breath and never give it back. One, two—oh my God, I’m going to die because I cannot breathe.

  My eyes fill with tears again as the terror refuses to let up. I try to move my arm. It feels like it’s already floating upward but when I look down, it’s actually planted deep into my blanket. My airways feel constricted. I gasp for air.

  Kara fumbles through one of her bags and extracts two blue pills. She shows them to me in the palm of her hand. “Emily, you have to listen to me. You have to open your mouth and swallow these. They will help make it easier to breathe.”

  I’m too scared to even speak. Her fingers push them between my lips. She unscrews the cap from a water bottle. The pills are already expanding in my mouth, filling it with a putrid acidic taste.

  “Drink,” she says, tilting the bottle to my mouth. I take a swig, surprised that my body is allowing me to swallow anything. “You’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to be fine. Those were Xanax.”

  The world slows down as I try to relax. How could I lose control of myself so suddenly?

  “Why would someone leave you a snake?”

  She pauses. “I’m sure it was just a joke.”

  “A joke? Who would think that’s funny?” I’m scared all over again. I try to focus on the cracks in the ceiling. I follow them outward to each endpoint.

  “I promise it isn’t a big deal, Emily. Like an inside joke. Please don’t worry.”

  My body begins relaxing into slow motion.

  “I’m so sorry it scared you. I really am,” she says.

  I smile to show her I’m going to be okay, even though my thoughts are telling me the opposite.

  She smiles back, but there’s a distant worry in her eyes. She goes to the dresser, gets new sheets, and moves them to the lower bunk. “Don’t worry. You can sleep up there if you want.” She makes the bed underneath. “Think about something nice.”

  “I found a swimming pool today,” I say. I have no idea why this popped into my thoughts. I remember how the water felt on my feet. How the clouds moved slowly through the sky, as if trying to show me something important. And I realize it really was something nice. I’m calmer now, my thoughts wooly and vague.

  “That’s great,” Kara says, whipping the blanket onto the bed. She squeezes my arm. “You can take me there. Okay?”

  This is the last thing I remember her saying.

  A Saved Soul

  Our first big Bible study proves to be a complete failure.

  Strangers with stickers show up. We smile. They smile back. Kara’s guest eyes her like a piece of meat, but leaves as soon as he realizes he won’t have the chance to be alone with her. She sulks in a corner most of the time—she’s been quiet and distant ever since our conversation during my panic attack yesterday. We sing. Some join in. We pray. They listen. We study with them, and then they leave one by one. They say they’ll come back, but we all know, even as the sun submerges into the Tuscan hills and bathes us in a golden light that should fill us with a sense of hope, that the chance of any of them returning will be unlikely.

  Will stomps off to his office with Ben, as the rest of us disperse in silence. I sense the doubt and disappointment—it’s already infecting the group. What if the mission fails? I’m too scared to ask this out loud as Kara and I walk toward our building. I see two figures shifting in the vineyard.

  “Look,” I say, nudging Kara.

  Todd and the girl he invited are huddled in a private conversation.

  “Well, look at that. Todd saves the day,” Kara says. “Or night.” She yawns.

  “Why didn’t you talk to that guy you invited?” I ask Kara.

  “What’s the point?”

  “Maybe he would have committed to coming back.”

  “I doubt it,” Kara says. “Anyway, the key is to stay just one step ahead. We’ll just invite some new people next time to keep our numbers up.”

  Keep our numbers up? “I thought the key is to save people,” I say.

  Kara shoots me a look. This time I can tell she’s studying my expression, looking to see if I mean it.

  “Do you think anyone who showed up tonight will come back?” I ask.

  “No,” Kara says. S
he sounds like she doesn’t even care.

  I pause inside our doorway, scanning the corners of our room.

  “Em, stop it,” she says. “How many times do I have to tell you? It. Was. A. Joke.”

  “Yes, one that you never explained to me, and I’m still not laughing.”

  “Trust me,” she says, climbing into the bottom bunk again. “See? You can have the top bunk permanently. That’s how worried I am.”

  “I’m way too wired for sleep,” I say. “I think I’m going to take a walk.” I glance around the room again for any signs of movement.

  “Whatever,” Kara says. She pulls her headphones from under her pillow and puts them on.

  I step out into the night and look around. Todd and his friend are gone, so I decide to walk through the vineyard. I’m thinking about Josh, wondering where he is and if he isn’t too “busy” now to talk, when I see a figure between rows. My heart races as I try to focus. It’s a male, but too short to be Josh. I see a tiny light near his hand lift up to his mouth just as I smell the cigarette smoke. I try to sneak around him, but he hears me and turns around.

  “Emily.”

  I pause, not sure what to do.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just me.” I recognize Andrew’s voice.

  I walk toward him. “I thought we aren’t supposed to smoke. Is it not against Kingdom rules?”

  “Eh.” He shrugs. “Do you want one?” He gestures to his pocket.

  “No thanks. But how did you get those? Did they give you money?” I ask. As far as I know, Will still has all our passports and travelers’ checks stored away in his office.

  “Shhhh,” he says. “I stole them from Todd’s new girlfriend.”

  This catches me off guard, and I laugh without thinking. It feels so good to laugh.

  “Shhhhhh,” he says again, laughing through an involuntary cough.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday,” I say.

  “Oh, the lecture on what a disappointment I am?” He rolls his eyes in a forced gesture to seem unperturbed. He takes another drag and exhales. “Let’s just say I’m very used to it after all these years. It kind of reminds me of being at home when my dad was actually around.”