by H. D. Gordon
We were finally approaching dinnertime, and of course, I was starving. The portions of each meal were just enough to always leave me still a little hungry, and by the time each meal rolled around I was always eager to get to the cafeteria. Just thinking of the single chocolate-covered pretzel they gave us at dinner made my mouth water.
I had to remind myself not to get too comfortable, and that soon, something these people offered for my ingestion would be filled with deadly poison. In short, eating had lost all pleasure for me in a matter of thirty hours.
“Okay, children,” Fae said, clapping her hands. “Push in your chairs and make sure to return everything to its proper spot. It’s time to head to dinner.”
The children, ever-dutiful, began doing as they were told, and I was picking up the crayon baskets, hoping that the meal tonight would be something other than chicken and rice, when the door to the room opened and Dorie walked in. For whatever reason, the sight of her made my heart pick up in pace. The smile she gave me was somehow unnerving.
“Hey, Dorie,” Fae said in greeting. “What’s going on?”
Dorie looked over at me. “Nothing much,” she said. “I just came to see if I could steal Joe for a minute.”
If I hadn’t been watching so closely, I would have missed the way Fae’s back stiffened. Her eyes flicked to me, and I could tell she was forcing nonchalance. I just hoped Dorie couldn’t, but from what I knew of her, I knew that was a long shot.
“Oh, okay,” Fae said. “Why? Is everything all right?”
Dorie waved a hand, her gaze still holding me. “Of course,” she said. “He just wants to see how she’s settling in, make sure she’s feeling at home. That’s fine by you, right, Joe?”
I forced a smile to my lips before they did something involuntary; like quiver. “Sh-sh-sure,” I said. It was a good thing these two didn’t know me too well, otherwise my inability to get that single word out fluently would have been a dead giveaway of how nervous I suddenly was. My gut was telling me that whatever was about to happen would be far from anywhere near fine by me.
“Great,” Dorie said, slapping me on the back hard enough to sting a little. “I’m heading out for a bit, so I can walk with you down to Father’s house on my way.” She looked over at Fae, who hadn’t said a word since asking why the reverend was requesting to see me. “You can handle the kids on your own for a few minutes, right, Fae? It’s nearly dinnertime now anyway.”
Fae’s smile was just a touch too tight. “Of course,” she said. “Yeah, sure, go.”
Dorie turned and began heading out of the room, and I went to follow. As I passed Fae, she gave me a long, loaded look that I was too keyed up to care about. She could shoot daggers at me with her eyes all she wanted. I was more concerned with the fact that I was more than likely about to find myself alone with the reverend Ron Reynolds, a situation I’d known was inevitable and had been dreading since the day we’d met, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Time seemed to move simultaneously slower and faster at the ranch; the days dragging on and the nights flying by.
The sun was just beginning its descent in the early evening sky, and the cicadas were just starting their screeching summer song. I followed Dorie to the path that led across the lake, my eyes glued to the big white house, where Father was waiting. A small but insistent part of me was screaming for me to run, to just take off, in any direction, as long as it led away from here, away from that house…and the man waiting inside.
But my feet kept moving closer and closer, and my blood was rushing in my ears loud enough to drown out whatever nonsense small talk Dorie was spewing. That little voice in my head, the sometimes annoying one that had saved my life several times was practically yelling at the top of its lungs.
This is not good. You should not be here. When does it end? Where do you draw the line? How far are you willing to go? Not as far as he will expect you to…Not that far…Never than far.
And then, I thought about the children. Well, one child in particular, actually. A little girl with strikingly strange green eyes.
The next thing I knew, I was climbing the porch steps of the big white house, consciously lying to myself about my ability to handle whatever was waiting for me inside.
Chapter 45
Ron Jr.
The front door to the house opened, and Dorie and a new girl stepped inside. Ron Jr., the reverend Ron Reynolds’ eldest son, was sitting at his post outside of his father’s door behind a desk with a television screen. The screen showed him alternating images from all the cameras set up around the house. There were fifteen cameras in all, both on the inside of the house and on the outside, but they didn’t record anything; they were simply for security reasons. The only room without a camera was his father’s office, and the only way into that office was through Ron Jr.
Dorie walked up to the desk and ran her fingers through his hair, a motherly gesture that he was never quite comfortable with her making. His own mother, Sharon, didn’t show as much affection as Dorie Dunham did, and it was something he just never felt right about. Lately, with the way his father had been so on edge, he’d been feeling not-right about a lot of things that were going on.
“Hey, handsome,” Dorie said, she gestured to the girl who’d come in with her. “This is Joe. She’s new. Father asked to see her.”
Ron Jr. studied the new girl, and decided that though she wasn’t pretty in a traditional sense, there was something certainly attractive about her. The combination of her raven hair and silver blue eyes was simply striking, but it was more than that. When he realized he was staring, he cleared his throat and looked down at his clipboard.
“I don’t see her on the schedule,” he said, standing up from his chair. “Just let me make sure it’s okay with him real quick. I’ll be right back.”
Dorie smiled, but something in her eyes told him that she was not happy about being questioned. She waved a hand, a subtle gesture telling him to get on with it. “By all means,” she said.
Ron Jr. stole one last look at the girl and knocked on the door to his father’s office. When his dad barked out for him to enter, he used the key he had to unlock the door and slipped inside. Father was at his desk, rubbing his nose, which was an angry red. Ron Jr.’s brow furrowed in concern. His father seemed to be losing weight lately, and was having the worst allergies he’d ever seen.
“Are you okay, dad?” Ron Jr. asked.
Father swiped at his nose again and waved a hand. “I’m fine, son,” he said, his voice sharp. “What do you want? I’m very busy.”
Ron Jr. suppressed a bit of anger at this blow-off. His father was obviously not fine. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were trembling just slightly. He knew better than to comment, though. That would only make his dad angry, and he didn’t feel like dealing with it today. He was too tired thanks to all the double security he’d put him on. And for what? The spies and the government violators who were out to get them? Ron Jr. was beginning to believe those people didn’t even exist.
But those thoughts could not be voiced. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry, but Dorie just walked in with some new girl named Joe and says you asked to see her. I was just making sure that was true, since you said we need to be extra careful now.”
It seemed to take a minute for his father to orient himself and process what Ron Jr. was saying. Finally, he wiped his nose again, sniffed loudly, and nodded. “Right,” he said. “That’s right. I did ask to see her. Just give me about thirty seconds and then send her in”
Ron Jr. stood there as his father opened his desk door and squirted cologne on his neck, rubbing it in with his wrists. Then, he took a pair of dark sunglasses from the drawer and slipped then on. When he realized his son was still in the room, he snapped, “What the fuck are you waiting for, boy? You need your ears checked or something?”
Ron Jr. shook his head and slipped out of the room, where he found that Dorie had left, probably off with his brother Bobby to work on whatever mission was too se
cret for Ron Jr. to know about; more than likely having something to do with that newspaper woman. That left just the strange-eyed, raven-haired girl, who was standing stalk-still in the hallway, as if she hadn’t even blinked since he’d left.
Trying to give Father his thirty seconds, he said, “I’m Ron Jr., Father’s oldest son. It’s nice to meet you.”
The girl smiled. She had a pretty smile, but he could swear he saw her lips quivering just a touch, and realized that she was nervous for some reason. He thought of the way his father’s tongue had snaked out over his dry lips when Ron Jr. had said the girl’s name.
“Nuh-nice to-to-to meet you, t-too,” she said.
A few moments of awkward silence passed, where Ron Jr. stood trying to put puzzle pieces together that he hoped didn’t fit. Was this girl nervous because she was a spy for the government? Or was it…some other reason?
Randomly, a thought from the other day surfaced; one of Fae Harper, exiting Father’s office late at night, rushing past Ron Jr. without even seeing him, her hair and clothes mussed up and her shoulders held tight.
Behind him, he heard Father bark out that he was ready, and Ron Jr. stepped to the side and pushed the door open for Joe, his movement oddly robotic. Even his voice sounded a bit off when he heard himself say, “You can go in. Father will see you now.”
Though it was brief, lasting not even as long as a flash of lightning, there was no mistaking the panic that passed behind the girl’s strange, silver-blue eyes as she stepped past him and into his father’s office, where even Ron Jr’s cameras couldn’t see.
Chapter 46
Joe
My heart was beating fast enough to power an engine. My palms were moist enough to soak a sponge. It took everything I had to remain calm, to not turn on my heel and bolt in the opposite direction, to walk into his office and keep my legs from shaking, from giving out completely beneath me.
“You can go in,” I heard Ron Jr. say, though his voice sounded far away, as if separated from my ears by an ocean. “Father will see you now.”
I stepped through the door and into the room, gritting my teeth against the smell of cleaning solution and cheap cologne. I felt rather than heard the door slip shut behind me, and my racing heart did a standstill. Looking up, I saw the reverend, his long white robe brushing the ground and his posture relaxed as he leaned back against the front of his desk, hands bracing him, one leg crossed casually over the other. He wore dark sunglasses over his dark eyes, and I couldn’t decide if I was glad for this or not. Even though the lenses kept me from seeing them, I could feel his gaze traveling over me just the same, like two poisonous snakes slithering over my skin.
That fox’s smile was on his lips, and his white teeth flashed as he held his arms open wide. “Joe, my dear,” he said, standing from his semi-seated position in front of his desk, his arms opening wider. “Thank you for coming, my child.”
I didn’t have time to respond as he came forward and wrapped his arms around me. They felt big and heavy, suffocating, even, as the long sleeves of his robe fell over me like dirty blankets. It was all I could do to control my breathing, to stop the shudder of disgust that so desperately wanted to rock my body. When I inhaled, and found his scent to be a mix of sweat and alcohol, I realized I’d made a mistake in coming in here alone. That voice in my head was not just screaming now, but rather blaring its panic.
I gritted my teeth and bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, and somehow managed to force my arms to return the reverend’s slimy embrace. He towered over me, his size more than twice mine easily, and when I felt his nose nuzzle some of my hair aside and he inhaled deeply right beside my neck, there was nothing I could do to stop the shudder he’d more than likely mistaked for a shiver; both to my aid, and my certain detriment.
His voice, deeper and with more gravel than usual, sounded right against my ear. “Have I told you how exquisite the Lord has made you, child?” he whispered, and I felt his chest swell where he held me to him as he inhaled deeply once again. “So young and beautiful,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to say something, but found that no words would come. In all my life, in all the crazy, terrible situations I’d ever found myself in, never had I felt so horribly vulnerable as I did as Ron Reynolds had me trapped in his arms; literally under his hold. I found that structured thought was nearly impossible. All I could smell was his sweat and cologne. All I could hear was my own sprinting heartbeat. All I could feel was his weight, his presence around me. And all I could see was the white of his robe. His crisp, white robe; like new sheets.
I should have followed my instincts. I always regretted it when I didn’t follow my instincts. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what the heck had possessed me walk in here, to willingly put myself in the room with this man. This crazy, soon-to-be murderous man. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost his mind if I’d seriously thought this was going to be in any way okay.
My mantra came to me then, the way it always came in tough situations, offering me the tiniest bit of strength that I’d need to stretch a long way.
Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe…
Like a swig of water in an endless desert, Reynolds finally released me and stepped back, holding me at a merciful arm’s reach. I stared at the dark lenses of his sunglasses, and in them I saw the reflection of my own eyes. I was surprised and strangely proud when I saw that my poker face was in place, my blooming fear hidden behind years of practice. Seeing my own calm reflection seemed to clear the cloud of panic that had fallen over me, and I knew right then that no matter what I had to do next, this was not going to go the way Ron Reynolds obviously wanted it to. Not if I could help it.
I felt my lips tug up in a smile. “Guh-good to see you too, Father,” I said, surprised at the easier than usual way the words slipped out. I stepped out of his reach and wandered over to the bookshelf on his wall, doing my best to act casually about putting distance between us. The thing was, I was underfed and running on little sleep. Add his creepiness to the equation, and I was going to have to hope I had the brain power to figure my way out of this.
When I reached the bookshelf and pretended to study the titles there, I heard him get up and approach behind me. I repeated my mantra over and over silently in my head, but it was cut short when his deep voice sounded right behind my left shoulder, his lips a breath away from my ear. Half a heartbeat later, his hands fell on my shoulders, heavy and containing, and his rough thumbs began to rub deep circles on my shoulder blades.
I swallowed. His touch was terrible, a polar opposite to Michael’s. Just breathe, I told myself, pushing that out of my mind. Just breathe.
“Do you like to read?” he asked, and I tried not to stiffen as I felt him draw closer behind, the fabric of his robe brushing the backs of my legs. Suddenly, despite the august heat, I wished I’d been given pants to wear rather than shorts.
(Or better yet, a chastity belt.)
That thought came from nowhere, and quite plainly, scared the shit out of me all over again.
“You could borrow a few of my books,” he added. “As long as you promise to take good care of them.”
“Th-that’s okay,” I said, turning to face him. It didn’t take long for me to decide I preferred to keep my eyes on him, even though staring into those dark sunglasses, where my own reflection stared back at me, was no easy task. It was always wiser to keep a predator in sight, I thought. “Thank you, for ah-offering, F-Father,” I added.
He leaned forward now, and there was the smell of his sickly breath, gut-twistingly close to my face, within kissing distance. His neck craned down and his hands came up on either side of me, bracing himself on the bookshelves behind me, trapping me between his meaty arms, the long sleeves of his white robe forming a curtain between me and the sane world, swallowing me up…
Just breathe Just breathe Just breathe
“You should let me do something for you, my child,” he whispered, craning his neck do
wn further still, eating up the meager space between us the way a demon swallows a soul. His sunglasses slipped down on his nose a touch as he did so, just enough for me to get a glimpse of his dark devil’s eyes. They were as bloodshot as an old alcoholic’s on a bender.
Now I looked away, unable to help it. If I’d had one wish right then, it would have been to melt into the bookshelf behind me. My back was pressed up against it hard enough that it seemed like I was going to try doing just that. Of course, I had no such luck.
He came closer, and closer, and all I could do was curse myself for having walked into this situation. All I could do was listen in terror as that voice in my head kept my internal alarm systems blaring at full blast. One look. One look in those dark, bloodshot eyes, and there could be no denying what was going to happen here unless I acted against it. And quickly.
I knew this, and yet I could not make myself move as he nudged the hair from my neck with his nose, his increasingly harsh, sour breath brushing across my skin, making goose bumps of the worst kind crop up there. I heard his lips part, and knew his dirty—
