by Erin Lorence
“So, Dove, I know. I know most non-Christians aren’t evil—only prone to evil because they haven’t had a chance to experience Christ’s transforming power.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
A month ago, the idea of a non-believer switching sides had never entered my head. For two weeks, I’d driven myself to the edge of crazed annoyance, wondering if it were possible. And now, this girl promised it could happen. It had happened. And I believed her.
“Rebecca! Do you think you can—”
“Convince Stone and Melody to let their prisoners go? It’s probable.”
But instead of leaping up to do it, she melted onto the leaves with her hands tucked under her hair. “Yet, why would I risk your nemesis’s wrath unless...”
“Unless?”
“Unless I’m convinced it’s God’s will—and not only my own. Or yours.”
My body sagged. So, she’d do nothing.
She nudged me with her shoe. “That’s your cue. Your moment to practice, Ms. Strong. Pray for the Spirit to guide your words so they’re true and sweet.”
I tried to swallow. My mouth dried up. My whirling head was blank.
She held out her hand, her fingers curling like mine had when I’d taunted Diamond. “Come on, chicken girl. Show me what you can do. Convince me.”
27
Two hours. That’s how long Rebecca had been gone—judging by the deadness of the fire and the charcoaling of the eastern sky—and how long I hadn’t moved. Next to me, Reed hadn’t stirred either, other than the steady rise and fall of his torso.
I fixed my stare on the sleepers nearest the black lump that’d once been a burning stump. My lips twitched, praying no one got cold enough to wake and build up the fire. Whoever did so would notice Rebecca’s absence and alert the others, and I’d be humming down the blacktop in a cop car before sunset.
Leaves rustled, and I sat up. A tall, square-shouldered figure slipped out from between branches and scurried for the ash pile. Rebecca curled up close to her brother with her back to me.
“Hey, psst. Rebecca. What happened?” My every muscle expected a swarm of newly-freed, Satan-driven teens.
Or maybe it’d be Stone who’d show. Or Melody, shaking Reed awake to tattle what I’d convinced Rebecca to try to do. By sunrise I’d be shackled with a different set of metal circles and driven to the jail my father had had nightmares about. My prayer results would be confiscated. My purpose made obsolete. And Wolfe and Jezebel dead.
My heart lurched. Despite my pulse thrumming in my ears, I made out two distinct sets of footsteps by feet that didn’t know the meaning of quiet.
Two bodies loomed in the darkness, hesitating. The shorter one streaked forward and landed on all fours by my head.
“I owe you,” Wolfe whispered to Rebecca who lay unconscious.
Jezebel yanked on my arm. “Get up!”
“Shh,” I cautioned.
Speak without fear. He will sleep.
God’s outright provision left me speechless.
Wolfe knelt next to his sister, shaking his head in anguish. “Now the brat won’t leave. Not without you.”
She crossed her arms.
“Super dumb, tough stuff.” I brushed back her dark hair. The sting marks weren’t as bad as I’d remembered. “Dumb, dumb, dumb.”
She stabbed me in the chest with her short index finger. “No, you’re the dummy ’cause you’re not using your dumb head to remember why I’m here. And him, why he came all this way. Know why? Because of you, dummy. So, you’re coming. Woof, carry her.”
I interrupted his stammer by pulling up my blanket. The metal circle glinting around my ankle shut them both up.
An owl hooted. It was a phony call, only yards away.
Wolfe rose, yanking the back of his sister’s shirt. “Blow her a kiss, goldfish. Time to go.”
Jezebel’s face squinched.
I spoke fast. “I can’t protect you if the others wake.”
“You hear that, brat? Tantrum it up and you’ll get cuffed too.”
I motioned at the trees. “Go. Both of you. Beat it.”
Hoot. Hoot.
She cracked an eye. “OK. I’ll go...if you pinkie swear. Swear to come to my house after they uncuff you. You know where I live, so it’s no problem.”
“C’mon, say it.” Wolfe’s fingers twitched in a coaxing gesture.
I don’t lie. I looked away from his hand to her smaller one, waiting for my promise. “I want to.”
Not good enough, I realized. Before she could yell, I yanked up my sleeve and peeled off the last pink strip. The others I’d abandoned that first night in the snake-infested garbage bin.
I didn’t need this reminder of Jezebel anymore. I wouldn’t forget her—like she wouldn’t me. She’d gotten herself hurt to see me again. I was no expert, but that sounded to me like love.
How insane. The glaring, little Heathen loved me. I smoothed the plastic over a sting mark on her cheek until it stayed put.
Three more owls hooted and, for the first time, Reed stirred.
Then, sister and brother left me forever—sticks crunching under Wolfe’s running feet, his sister flung over his shoulder in a backward flop so quick she didn’t have time to make trouble.
They disappeared behind the rhododendrons.
“Just...don’t die. Ever.”
28
A blink later, Reed jerked me upright. With a thudding heart, I gazed blurrily at the cloudbank against the pearly dawn sky and around at the clearing.
What was his problem? I saw none. Our comrades were asleep. The fire dead. No animal. No attacker. He couldn’t know about Wolfe’s and Jezebel’s getaway. Not yet.
Then I heard it—the reason Reed gripped the spear he’d slept with in a ready position. He aimed the tip at a lazy, tilted cedar. I nodded, and three men pushed out from behind it single file.
I exhaled. The strangers wore winter furs like Melody’s.
“Please don’t skewer me.” The closest lifted his empty hands skywards. Behind me I heard the sounds of others waking. “We’re from the Council—the one you can’t find. We saw evidence of your fire last evening and guessed Christians had arrived and were searching for us. I’m Miracle and—”
My brow wrinkled in my confusion. “Why’d you have to guess? Why didn’t you know? We’ve been waiting almost a week, so if you’re from the Council, why didn’t you listen to God when you wondered when we’d arrive? Don’t you pray?”
Movement snagged my periphery, but Rebecca’s head shake came too late. So did her symbolic ear rub.
Ouch, Dove.
I anchored my lips between my teeth while Miracle’s smile faded. His eyes narrowed at me. “Of course we prayed. God remained inexplicably silent in His answer until now. Perhaps He was waiting for the group of pagan kids to clear out first? Yes, that must be why. When I spotted them this morning I thought they might have caused you trouble, but I see now that—”
“You spotted...pagan kids?” Reed’s first leaping step in the direction of the prisoners’ camp didn’t go well. Either he’d forgotten we were ankle bound or he’d expected me to run synchronized, like Stone would’ve. I grabbed at him when he fell so I wouldn’t get dragged down too.
While he shook me off, Miracle reassured us. “Children, you don’t need to be afraid. We sent two scouts after their group, and they made it to the foothills—”
“Keep up!” Reed flung at me.
“What’s wrong this time? The Council people are here to lead us. Yay.” Joshua yawned and waved an invisible celebratory flag, eyeing me and Reed. “Why is it always so many tragedies with you all?”
“Freeze, Dove.” Reed bent over. Half a second later he straightened and darted off, leaving me behind with both iron circles, one open and laying in the dirt. The key he didn’t bother to re-hide bounced on its vine encircling his neck.
When I caught up to him, he’d stopped. Arms crossed, he glowered down at Stone and Melody
who sat next to a small cave or den. The creepers over its entrance still swayed from him peering inside at the empty prison.
The two guards appeared dazed, the hand-woven ropes coiled on their laps.
Had they both fallen asleep? Perhaps Rebecca had waited them out and then sneaked in and untied the prisoners. That would explain her two-hour delay in returning last night.
As I thought this, Stone’s eyes flickered to Rebecca. She’d trailed me. His gaze remained on her for three blinks before dropping.
No, he at least knew the truth—he’d experienced Rebecca’s gift full force. I couldn’t tell from Melody’s downcast eyes if she’d been awake. She might be as clueless as she looked.
Miracle and his men arrived. “Oh, I see. Two more. Yes, let’s make sure we’re all together before we leave for the Council.” He turned a full circle. “Any more people we need to account for?”
“Apparently not.” Reed hadn’t taken his eyes off his brother since we’d arrived. Against my nature, I began to squirm a little for Stone.
“Righto. Well. Let’s be off.” The Council man made sweeping gestures in the direction we’d come.
Reed pivoted around to face me. “So, Miracle. Did this group of kids happen to include a lanky teenage boy wearing a dark blue jacket with a depiction of a hawk’s head on it? Accompanied by a black-haired girl about six?”
The man rubbed his goatee. “Why, I don’t know about a certain boy. But yes—they sighted a small girl. Did you have a run in with them after all? I’m sorry about that. But you don’t need to be scared of bumping into them again. Our scout gave us the message Old Saul was guiding them down. So you can be sure they’ll be at the highway soon.”
“Old Saul?” Reed and I asked together.
“Jinx. Owe me a soda.”
I tuned out the kid, Joshua. Again, that idea eluded me—something I should know...but not anything the Spirit nudged me about. This was from myself. Information wedged too deep, like a splinter I couldn’t yank out.
The short, oldest Council guy cleared some gunk from his throat and flashed a no-teeth grin.
“You’d know if you’d met Old Saul.” He pinched his nose between two rough fingers. His other hand waved as if wafting a bad odor. “Right, Cal?”
Miracle—Cal—laughed. “Yes. Saul’s the most eccentric Christian brethren you’ll ever meet. Or sense.”
This irritated me. To stop the pulling waves of heat, I kept my eyes on Melody, who’d buried her head in her hands.
“Physical description please,” Reed requested through what sounded like clenched teeth.
The third Council stranger, balding and droopy, sighed. “Skin and bones. Tattooed. Bearded. Carries a forked stick.”
Reed’s gaze pinned Melody, who’d peeked, to the mossy boulder at her back. “You, Mel. You called him ‘Samuel’ last night. The same man that you claimed rescued you from the snakes—but he’s given you a false name since it’s Saul. And now he’s joined with our enemies. So...”
His voice dropped to a murmur, working it out while ignoring Cal’s protests about Samuel’s— Saul’s—alliance. “So, it was all a setup. He’s worked with the devil all along and has tricked everyone, all these Christians, into trusting him.”
He pointed at his brother. “Why didn’t you give the alarm call when he showed up last night?”
Stone gulped. “He...he didn’t, Reed. I swear. We never saw him.”
“Tell. Me. What. Happened.”
The coils in Stone’s hands made a small, fluttering noise against his pants.
I stepped forward. “Fine. I’ll tell you, Reed. It was me. I let them go.”
I hadn’t planned on giving myself away so soon—or at all. But maybe I spoke because I had a hard time letting two innocents take the blame. Or because I alone knew Reed and wasn’t afraid of him. Or because not claiming responsibility for the situation felt too much like lying.
I’d convinced Rebecca to do what I wanted.
I lifted my chin against the stares and Rebecca’s gasp. “Me. All me. I’m responsible for the captured taking off. I told you last night I wouldn’t sit by and let you hurt them, Reed. Unclog your ears next time.”
Cal held his hands out to both of us. “Children, I’m confused in this conversation, but I am certain whatever the conflict is, we can resolve it once we get to our place of Council. As far as I can tell, no one’s injured. So please. Let’s make sure we’re together, and I will escort you.”
Reed’s eyeballs popped when he stooped to examine the cuff still anchored to the outside of my pants. He tested the empty, open part he’d worn. His gray cells probably throbbed as he tried to figure out how I’d freed the prisoners when I was chained to him all night.
I gave no explanation. He deserved none.
He staggered closer to Stone, eyeing me.
“What are you?” His furrowed brow cleared. “Councilmen. I understand your eagerness for us to finish our journey. And believe me, I’m eager too. But we have a serious problem on our hands that must be addressed now.
“This girl—” Reed jabbed a finger at me “—claims to be a follower of Christ. She even claims to have a special gift of communication with Him. But since we’ve joined paths, I’ve experienced no proof of either of these claims.
“On the contrary, I’ve seen her actions work against us believers and in favor of the devil again and again. I’ll admit I’ve always had my suspicions about her, despite my friend’s vision that kept me waiting for her to start my own journey here. But this morning she’s openly proven whose side she’s on...and it’s not God’s. His purpose is now clear. I was to travel with her, so I could identify her as the snake—the enemy’s spy—that she is.”
A wave of icy numbness swept over me.
Cal laughed into the shocked silence—so hearty it startled the crow picking near the empty den into flight. As if catching, another of Cal’s men began to chuckle too.
First, trampled by Reed’s words, and now this.
I opened my mouth to deny Reed’s accusation and let the councilmen know how idiotic they acted, but Rebecca prodded my spine.
Cal apologized. “I’m not so much amused as I’m relieved that this is the major problem keeping us at a standstill. So relax, everyone. Suspicions and accusations are as common as mosquitoes, routinely plaguing first-timers of this journey. Tension builds as the decision-making time nears, and it’s not surprising for mature Christians to come to actual blows. Please remember, the Enemy is working hard to divide us.
“Yet, we can’t ignore this accusation. The last thing we want in our midst while we determine God’s will for the country is the devil’s workers. Fortunately, we can resolve this now.” He gestured at Reed. “You. Since you’re the accuser. Tell me, do you believe everyone here—except for this girl—is a true Christian? Filled with light and not darkness?”
Reed hesitated. I could tell he was feeling out a hidden trap. “Some here are still relative strangers to me. But yes. Yes, I do believe they are all true believers.”
“Fine, fine.” Cal clapped his hands. “Then of the rest of you—you true Christians—will any of you testify on behalf of, what was your name?”
My teeth clenched harder.
Rebecca poked me. “Dove.”
“On Dove’s behalf? Will anyone bear witness to having seen her pray? And testify that her supplications have been fruitful? In other words, has the Lord answered her? Anyone?”
I stared at Melody, whose lips opened, came together, opened, and snapped together again—like the turtle my cousin found during the last rainy season.
With clamped lips, she appeared to lock her gaze upon a clump of ferns.
Melody. I itched to give her a shake. To haul her closer and make her see me—make her remember.
Memories of our journey stampeded through my brain: Our unspoken communication about danger. The shimmering cloak of comfort we shared in the garbage bin. All the times I waited for her, lifted her, prot
ected her.
Coward. Traitor. Judas.
I felt another poke in my spine. Rebecca…asking my permission.
A cloud of gratitude washed over me, lessening the heartfelt sting of Melody’s betrayal.
Rebecca would testify for me. Of course they’d believe her and, as a result, they’d believe me.
So with a feeling of free-falling twenty feet, I shook my head and refused her. Because Rebecca—an acquaintance—shouldn’t be standing up for me now. The ones who knew me best should testify.
I zeroed back on my traveling partner who, a moment later, peeked up and gazed straight into the eyes of my accuser. She stopped fidgeting with the coils and sat up straighter, making her choice.
I shifted to Stone. But his decision showed in the slump of his shoulders and down-tilting beard.
Biggest. Coward. Ever.
The official squirmed. “Anyone?”
“No.” I shook my head at the pressure Rebecca applied to my elbow.
Them. Not you.
This was a bad situation. And this was the moment for me to take off on my own—while Cal’s comrades still raised their shoulders, uncertain of how to proceed.
“We cannot hastily deal with this situation…with you. Others wiser than myself must rule on whether you are God’s child or not. And I promise the truth will be revealed.” Cal nodded to Reed. Reed returned a nod that appeared disgusted. He turned to me.
You’ll stay with me, Lord?
Always.
Because the people who’ll be deciding this are the same ones who didn’t have a clue we’d arrived on Mount Jefferson. They don’t seem very good at hearing you. Or have a pine nut’s amount of spiritual intuition.
I lead. You follow.
I swallowed hard. “Okay. Lead on.”
And when Miracle chose to think, I spoke to him—and gave a satisfied clap—I didn’t correct him.
29
I didn’t wear the shackles anymore, but I might as well have worn them. The two guards at my back and my confiscated pack made it clear. Goodbye, freedom.
As I trudged single file behind Joshua, I imagined swinging into the branches overhead and staying there until the whole group gave up and moved on.
