Mother’s scarred, peeling face replaces the scenery around me. I picture her, jostled and bumped in Elm’s arms, while life seeps out of her.
She could die. Even though her Clock said twenty-one years the last time I looked at it, I no longer have faith in the Numbers.
What frightens me most, though, is the scent of lemon I caught just before the explosion. Did I imagine it? Was there something lemony in the breakfast that I didn’t notice? If the scent was intentional, how could it reach my nose at that exact moment before the explosion? How did Skelley know we were on that train? I didn’t even tell Father. Did the Preacher betray us?
I’ve had the NAB with me the whole time, so it couldn’t have been Gabbie.
“It was Skelley Chase,” I tell them. “I smelled lemon before the bomb.”
Gabbie stumbles over a bramble. “He wouldn’t do something like that!”
“It’s the Council, Gabbie.” Solomon adjusts the unconscious girl in his arms. “There’s no denying that, and he’s on the Council.”
Gabbie looks ready to cry.
I shouldn’t have brought it up. “We’ll talk about it more when we get to the village.” There’s one thing I know, and it’s all that’s needed to beat my anxiety into pure dread.
The Council knows we’re coming.
“I can’t do this.” Cap plops to the ground a few hours later.
“You’re carrying only one pack.” Gabbie glares at him. “And you still have your suit on.”
“Even if some of us don’t have injuries, we still have emotional shock.” Solomon sidesteps Gabbie and adjusts the unconscious young girl in his arms. “That’s exhausting enough.”
“We’re almost there.” Elm doesn’t slow.
The moon is fully risen and illuminates the forest. Cap crawls back to his feet and, ten minutes later, we enter an albino village that’s very similar to the one I first entered so long ago.
Small stone huts with animal skin roofs and door flaps rest on either side of a small river. A stone bridge arcs from one bank to the other. Ash, Black, and five other albinos I vaguely recognize from my time in the albino village emerge from their huts at a whistle from Elm.
“Ash!” She is as stunning as I remember her—long, cream-colored hair, a soft face, and . . . pregnant again. “You’re expecting?”
“Parvin!” She rushes toward me in a half-run. We embrace.
“Whoa! There are more of these white people?” Cap jumps away from them, but everyone else stays still.
“We have wounded.” Solomon lays his burden on the mossy ground. His hair is plastered to his forehead from sweat.
“What happened?” Black’s hair is still cropped short and he and Ash stand taller, every inch the village leaders.
Elm steps in, explaining at lightning speed Willow’s predicament, our situation, and the train explosion. Then he carries Mother into a slightly larger hut. Ash directs the carriers of the wounded to pallets and beds. Other albinos run errands—gathering blankets or pouches of white pills.
The rest of us sink to the ground. I can’t watch them work on Mother . . . I can’t watch her bleed any more than I already have.
God . . . please let her survive!
•••
A full day passes and I barely notice, I’m so busy sleeping, praying, and recuperating. What wakes me up is a NAB message from Father.
~Enforcers are at Opening Three. What now?
Of the fifty people who left Ivanhoe with me, only nine of us are functioning. I gather us together and share Father’s message.
“So we’ve lost!” Cap exclaims.
Solomon shakes his head. “We can’t give up yet.”
Elm leans against a bare dogwood tree. “I shall still go. For Willow.”
I voice the only plan B I have. “We must destroy the Wall, but we’ll meet at a different place.” Let the Council think we’re coming through Opening Three.
Solomon nods. Cap fiddles with some stray pebbles in the grass. “Where should we do it then?”
“How about the portion of Wall closest to Unity Village?” Kaphtor suggests.
“Sounds good to me,” Gabbie says.
And that’s that. I send the update to Father.
Ash enters our huddle of people and whispers in my ear. “Come into my hut. Rest.”
Is this her kind way of getting me alone to tell me that Mother’s not going to make it? I gulp and follow her into a large hut surrounded by a dormant garden, my heart shriveling like a raisin. Inside are a large bed and a child-sized one. We sit on a stone bench resting against one wall.
“Is she dead?”
Ash takes my hand. “Your mother will heal, with many scars.”
She will heal. A gush of air flies out of me. “Thank you.”
Her soft smile graces her face and my anxiety melts. “You are strong. But she is stronger. Stubborn.”
I laugh a little. “That’s Mother. She won’t die unless she decides it’s practical.”
“Elm said you will rescue Willow and many of your people.”
I nod.
“Black and I have spoken. Our people wish to help. When you destroy the Wall and your people flee to this side, we will lead them to safety. To our village. Then we will send them to Ivanhoe.”
“You would . . . do that? For me?”
Her hand absently rubs over her small belly, then drifts to a box on the end of the bench. Inside is the Bible I left them. “You brought us freedom, Parvin.”
Tears singe my eyes and I shake my head. I viewed the albinos as my enemy most of the time. I only taught Ash and Black to read, then left my Bible with them. How could I have known God would work through those actions?
How could I not know?
“This could put you in danger.” I clench my fist around my left wrist. “The Council might send Enforcers through the Wall. It means you won’t be safe.”
She stands. “It does not matter what it means for us. It means freedom for others.”
Frenchie is the only one who heals soon enough to join us a day later. Even then, it’s against my better judgment. Her blond hair is tussled, but she limps toward our small circle of people, her chin up. She wears an assortment of animal skins and wrapped cloth. Kaphtor rises from our small circle of people. “Angelique, how are you?”
“Vivant. Alive.”
He helps her sit on the ground.
“Deux cracked ribs. Zey are not so bad zat I cannot walk.” She winces and leans back on one hand. Kaphtor returns her Brawn suit to her. “But I must return to my parents. I may not fight much, but I must still go ’ome.”
Elm, Black, and twenty other albinos—both men and women—join us, armed with pouches of stones and slings tied to their waistbands. Some carry ropes and camming devices to anchor them in Wall crevices for climbing. “We are ready to leave.”
“Thank you.” I hold my good hand out to shake Black’s. He may have helped Alder amputate my arm, but that doesn’t taint my gratitude. Is this what forgiveness feels like? The freedom of befriending a former enemy? The freedom to watch him find hope in life and change?
He nods.
I step into the hut where Mother rests and kiss the portion of her forehead that isn’t burned. She’s not awake, but I whisper in her ear anyway. “I’m bringing Father to you. I love you.”
Ash and the other women staying behind as healers come to bid us farewell. “Will you come back to us, Parvin? To teach us more about the book? We are anxious to learn.”
Learn? What do I know? I’m no teacher of the Bible. I take Ash’s hand. “I want to come back. Someday.” Let God use that as He will.
She nods. “I will care for your mother.”
“Thank you.”
I watch her awkward gait back to the healing hut and wish for a moment that
we could sit and read through the Bible as we did the last time I saw them. I wish I could tell her more of my story.
But that is not for today. That might have to wait until we’re all in heaven together.
I choke through a group prayer, self-conscious over my words, then we follow Black and Elm.
“Thank goodness,” Cap says once we’re an hour out. “I much prefer Ivanhoe to that place.” How can he dislike the calm albino village or the people I came to love so dearly? Doesn’t he understand what a safe haven it is?
“I rather liked it.” Solomon falls back so he’s walking next to me. He looks alive, ready to attack that Wall and the Council behind it.
We walk in silence for the rest of the day. I mull over our plan of attack. Everything feels jumbled and rushed.
No time to mourn.
No time to process.
We’ll arrive at the Wall base the morning of New Year’s Eve, as planned. Father will be there. Who else? How many others are desperate to escape the USE?
This feels so reminiscent of the first time I passed through this terrain, trying to return. The thoughts of my family kept me going. This time, it’s the thoughts of destruction . . . of freedom.
Shalom.
Night falls and we make camp. Cap hunts around for fallen branches to build a fire. Bless his heart, it’s the first selfless thing I’ve seen him do.
“No fire tonight,” Solomon says. “Not with the Council possibly looking for us.”
Cap throws the wood on the ground. “This is ridiculous! We won’t be a match for the Wall if we’re tired, cold, and hungry.”
I toss a stick into the shadows. “I’m not asking anyone to come with me. The Council knows we’re coming and we’re probably going to die.” There. I said it.
“Can’t die,” Cap mutters, settling against a dried tree.
“The point is, this is not a sane thing to do. This is risky, dangerous, and even if you don’t die, you’ll probably be on the Council’s list for the rest of your lives. If you want to back down now, I don’t blame you. You may leave.”
No one talks. No one leaves.
Several of us look at Cap. When he notices us watching him, he huffs. “I’m not chickening out. My goats are over there.”
We split the food we collected at the albino village. Then we try to sleep without freezing or despairing.
God, am I saying the right things? No divine insights come. I suppose that’s His way of telling me to do my best. I have to trust Him in this, but not without one more plea.
Keep them safe.
We survive the night. When I wake, my head throbs. Solomon’s bruise is black and ugly, spreading across his forehead. Gabbie works to fix her singed hair, but it’s no use.
Elm leans against a tree, watching Cap snore. All the other albinos are awake. I meet Elm’s gaze, trying to focus on his good eye. “Time to go?”
He nods once. “We will arrive tomorrow morning.”
The day passes uneventfully, but our determination is palpable. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we destroy the Wall and change our world.
We rest for four hours at nightfall, and then rise under the moon to complete the rest of the trek by morning. The sun just lightens the sky to a dull blue when Cap asks, “If they knew where to blow up our train, won’t they know where we’re destroying the Wall?”
“Let’s hope not.” Solomon hoists two bags of explosives higher on his shoulder.
The words bring zero assurance.
God, we’re breaking this Wall down to bring freedom—freedom to worship You, to live without the Clock idols. Help us defeat the Council!
“Everyone has their trackers out, right?” Solomon looks at all of us. Everyone nods.
The hiking time flies by. Maybe it’s because I’m dreading the actual moment we start tearing the Wall down. I can’t help feeling like things will go wrong.
Finally, we creep to the edge of the forest and peek through the short, sun-deprived trees. There’s the base of the Wall. No Enforcers, no resistance.
Father is on the other side.
~We’re here, I send to him.
~Me too, he sends back.
“How do you want to do this, Parvin?” Solomon watches me. “The sooner the better, I think.”
The Council could catch on to our change of plans any moment. We need to be fast. “Can we pray first?”
He smiles. “Of course.”
Cap folds his arms and turns away. Gabbie’s distracted, taking a video of the Wall with the NAB, but Elm stands respectful, bowing his head with us. Solomon slips his hand into mine. The physical connection takes me another step closer to God.
Solomon’s voice is low and steady. “Heavenly Father . . .”
How do we want to do this? We’ll tear down the Wall, help the Radicals through, and then everyone will flee with the albinos. Except me. I’ll cross with Elm to rescue Willow. And Cap will go rescue his goats.
“… Amen.” My eyes fly open and meet Solomon’s smile. Drat, I should have been focusing!
Forgive me! Please protect us and guide me as we move forward.
Focus. Lead.
SPEAK.
We split the bags of explosives and the people into three groups. “Angelique, Elm, and Kaphtor . . . you take one group two hundred yards north of here.” Why am I whispering? “Cap and Gabbie, you go two hundred yards south. Solomon, and I will take the Wall here.”
I take an emotigraph of this moment. “We’re going to destroy the Wall. We’re going to unify this world again. We’re going to reveal the lie of the new Clocks. Be strong.”
Kaphtor nods and seven albinos follow him, Elm, and Frenchie out of the forest. “Be careful,” Cap grunts to them. I can’t help but think back to his hatred toward Kaphtor only a month ago.
Cap and Gabbie leave next with another group. She takes the NAB with her to film the event. She looks excited and determined and oblivious all in one.
We’re all still in sight of each other. This way a large portion of Wall will come down all at once and we have a higher chance of succeeding.
We creep into the clearing. There’s a long stretch, about a hundred yards, of deadened grass and rock rubble between the Wall and our forest. I expect Enforcers around every tree stump and bramble the closer we get to the Wall, but none appear.
I’m finally here.
SHALOM.
Everything suddenly feels right. My worry floats away like a dandelion seed. Mother is in God’s protective arms. Father is on the other side of the Wall, waiting for me. Even if they die, I mustn’t see it as loss. Jude once told me my problem was seeing his approaching death as loss. But really, he and Reid are both in heaven, just waiting for me. Whether I live or die from this pursuit, it will be good. Because it is for my Lord.
Here we are, God. Choose me.
I HAVE. YOU ARE MINE.
My eyes burn at the tenderness of His voice. It’s a whisper inside my soul, not an audible voice in my ear. More of a sense than hearing. But it’s Him. Maybe now I’ll be worthy of being called a good and faithful servant.
Maybe.
“Let’s break this thing down.”
Solomon, Elm, and I walk to the base of the Wall in our Brawn suits. The other ten Radicals follow us, bringing the three bags of explosives.
“Be careful not to get crushed by falling pieces,” I tell them. “The Brawn suits only give strength, not protection. I’ll get inside the Wall once the hole is big enough, since I have the Armor suit on.”
I press the button for the mask portion of the Armor suit, but before I put it on, Solomon grabs my hand and yanks me to him. “Whatever happens,” he says against my ear. “I’m staying with you.”
“Whatever happens,” I whisper back.
He cups my cheek with his hand and I don’t think I’d
mind a good-bye kiss just now. But he doesn’t give it, which means we have to survive for another chance.
He sprints to the Wall and slams an elbow into the stone. A giant crack splits the silence and shoots up the face of the Wall. We all stare at the crack.
The Wall has been weakened.
The giant Wall at which I could barely look a year ago . . . is coming down.
Surreal.
A few of us laugh—giddy, powerful.
Way to go, Solomon.
Following Solomon’s example, I stride toward the Wall and use my elbow. I tap it first, still cringing against the idea of slamming it into stone. I feel nothing, so I hit harder. Harder. I smash a hole into the stone. Rock shards fly from the Wall.
Wow.
Only a few more kicks, punches, and pushes create a hole deep enough for the explosives.
This plan seems absurd.
But it’s working.
“You get the honors.” Solomon hands me the bag of explosives.
They’re not like what I’d expect. Of course they’re not, they’re from Ivanhoe. Each bomb is a small, medium, or large metal spider with a giant abdomen bloated with explosives. When set into the cracks of stone, the contraption crawls deep, then detonates at the press of a button.
I send in three fat ones. They clamber into the crack we’ve made, burrowing deeper, searching for pathways with their clicky little feet.
Solomon has the detonator button.
We sprint back to the forest and wait for a go-ahead from the other two groups. Everyone’s safe. Everyone has sent in explosive spiders. Kaphtor waves from one end, Cap waves from the other. I turn around and Solomon’s arms wrap around my shoulders. Then he presses the button with the others.
The stone bursts.
The ground quakes and pieces of rock go flying. I know, instantly, that we’re too close. We turn our backs on the flying wreckage and run just as pieces slam into the ground around us.
A second explosion takes place and more stone goes flying. That would be Kaphtor’s group. Cap and Gabbie’s explosion follows like an echo.
“We’re doing it!” someone shouts.
A Time to Speak Page 39
