by Linsey, Tam
The Protectorate dismissed Eily to return to the Holdout, if she wished. The girl did not want to live in the city, and Tula couldn’t blame her. “Ana needs to be able to find me,” she whispered after she told Tula her choice.
Sinuses stinging with unshed tears, Tula didn’t refute the girl’s hope. “Be good for Levi.”
“Levi is sad.” Eily pulled on Tula’s hand, her dark eyes pleading.
“You’re both safer if I stay here.”
Eily gave Tula a last squeeze around the waist and darted up the loading ramp. Her black Old Order bonnet flapped from its strings behind her.
Levi is with his people, with his son, where he belongs. Tula missed him more than she thought possible. And now, Eily was gone, too.
Jaw aching with repressed sadness, Tula waved until she could no longer see the duster. She turned back to the Conversion Department and descended the stairs into Confinement. Her access privileges had been restricted — captured cannibals were not exempt from imprisonment and euthanization, and the Board was still unsure of her loyalty — but they needed her to translate. During negotiations, she hadn’t translated the Elders’ assertion that no one would be making any conversions. Translator prerogative. She still didn’t trust the Protectorate to respect the wishes of the unconverted.
With the new symbiotic fungi technology gleaned from Tula’s bloodstream, the Protectorate was making plans to spread even farther into unconverted territories. Burn Operatives would soon be free of the secondary medical complications of overdose. The outposts would be temporary stations, threatened by cannibals and unsafe for children who still required protection from UV radiation, but there was talk of building permanent structures once sufficient territory had undergone the Burn.
The fungi in Vitus’s system had caused his ripening to progress and damage his chloroplasts beyond repair. With autoimmune suppressants, he would survive, but he would live out his days with skin as pink as a newborn cannibal’s. In the past, Tula might have been happy to see him euthanized, but no longer. It seemed fitting the Protectorate forced him to be a consultant in the Conversion Department due to his knowledge about Dr. Kaneka’s work. He would watch while others reaped the benefits of the Fosselite research.
Tula reached her office and settled into the pool of fiber-optic light at her desk. The light had once been a welcome relief from the fluorescent lights in Confinement, but now it only teased her with memories of real sunlight. She adjusted her new black lab coat around her legs and reached for her gamma pad. A small box rested next to it. Attached was a card from Mo. “I know you don’t want it, but take it anyway. Love, Mo.” Inside, a plain gold ring, the color of his eyes. Closing her eyes, she sighed. She would return it as soon as her shift was over. Mo was … not Levi.
From the cages below, the wail of a lonely cannibal child echoed from the brick walls.
The Holdout
Levi stirred the thin porridge and fed another bite to his son. Josef had grown worse as winter progressed. The geothermal heat exchange units could not hold off the cold seeping into the brick houses. The Blattvolk fires had collapsed several tunnels and destroyed a lot of their food stores. The pasture fire had spread to the hog barn and killed over half their stock, which meant not enough pancreatic enzymes for the sick children. As they moved past the winter solstice, the children at the Ward began to wane from hunger.
In the next bed, Rachel Hulse helped her son to dress; another young one succumbing too early. “Maybe next Meeting you will be well enough.” She spoke in a bright voice, but Levi heard brittleness behind the words. Her oldest son had been buried three weeks ago. Levi would have comforted her, but he didn’t have anything to give, and she likely would have rebuffed him anyway. The Blattvolk were here because of him.
The burned out pasture near the school was now a duster pad. The Blattvolk had erected a large building nearby, out of place amidst the austere homes of the Holdout. Mirrored walls gleamed in the weak winter sunlight, and the Blattvolk could be seen parading in and out of the transparent common room half naked.
Students were as infatuated with the mirrors as they were with the naked Blattvolk. To shield their children, the Brethren relocated classes to a home on the other side of the common, and many families didn’t let their youngsters go outside alone at all. Blattvolk strolled the streets and fields from sun-up to sundown. The Holdout had become as much tourist attraction as new territory.
Levi’s people endured them without being overly friendly. The language barrier created a convenient wall between them. When a Blattvolk asked a question or initiated contact, the Brother or Sister would shrug and say, “No Englisch.” Levi was the only one with a smattering of Haldanian. He attempted to keep to himself, but as Eily’s guardian, it was difficult. She had become an attraction in her own right — the Blattvolk child in the Old Order dress. Tourists stood outside their home with cameras at the ready.
In spite of Elder protests, Eily had a room on the south end of Samuel’s house, and the three adults endeavored to bring her to the Lord. She and Gid struck up a strange friendship of opposites; either ignoring one another, or giggling over some inconsequential bit of news one of the adults brought up at the supper table. Gid attended school, but Beth taught Eily her letters and numbers at home. To half of the Old Order, the child was still a Blattvolk. The other half tolerated, but didn’t welcome her.
Scraping the last bits of porridge from the bowl, Levi had Josef lick the spoon clean, waited for a coughing spasm to ease, then wiped him clean. “I’m going to Meeting now, Josef. Rest. I love you.” Levi’s belly clenched in hunger. He’d been giving the majority of his portion to Josef.
“I will pray, too. I love you, Papa.”
He gave his son’s frail shoulders a final squeeze before donning his hat. Rachel wrapped her cape about her shoulders and didn’t object when Levi held the door for her, then walked at his side into the driving wind. They merged with another huddled group walking to Meeting. Ice particles made everyone’s exposed cheeks ruddy with false health. The hungry hollows below their cheekbones told the true story.
One thing the Elders insisted upon was the privacy of Church, but that hadn’t stopped curious Blattvolk from hanging about, peeking in windows or photographing members coming and going. The congregation now held Meetings in the farthest houses or barns, away from easy interference. Men and women greeted each other with handshakes and kisses, but there was no joy in their exchanges. Things were dire. They’d held three burials this week, two children from the Ward and one elderly Sister. Several other members were on their deathbeds.
A double handful of pies rested on the sideboard; not enough to feed the two hundred gathered, but everyone would get a taste. In the women’s section, Levi spotted Beth and Eily. The girl waved furiously at him until Beth patted her arm down. Raising a hand in greeting, he couldn’t help but notice she was the only child here plump with health. The chloroplasts. Even fully dressed she made enough calories sitting by her bedroom window. Or pacing the fence looking for Ana, as she was wont to do.
She was lonely, of course. The other women at the Meeting gave Beth and the child an entire bench to themselves. Often he wondered if she might not have been better in the Blattvolk city. The Haldanians were prepared to accept strangers into their midst. And Tula was there…
His mouth twitched with a grimace. His new sketchpad lacked half the pages because every time he found himself doodling Tula’s face, he would rip out the page and burn it. She’d never spoken to him since the Protectorate released the prisoners. The Brethren held weekly meetings with her and others from the city, but no messages came for him. Eily insisted she kept her distance to keep them safe, but he didn’t understand. Safe from what? Things could not get much worse.
They could start killing or forcing conversions. Was that why Tula was protecting them? How did not speaking to him help? Maybe she does not want to accept the Ordnung. That was easier to believe.
“Brothers
and Sisters in Christ, let us pray.” Bishop Eldon stood near the large window in the kitchen, a bulky sweater covering his shoulders, a gray scarf the same hue as his beard around his neck. He’d just overcome a fight with pneumonia but insisted on preaching at Meeting.
Levi dropped his chin and recited the rote words of the Lord’s Prayer in his mind. To do any more proved too much effort. As everyone regained their seats, Bishop Eldon raised his frail voice above the battering of the wind against the glass.
“As we enter our third month of the occupancy of the Blattvolk, I want to praise God for the strength of our Unity. As in days of old, we must live side by side with those of the world. The Gate to Heaven is narrow, and we must walk carefully the path of the Ordnung. Today we will consider John, Chapter Ten: The Good Shepherd and His Sheep.”
The Bishop recited the passages and expounded on the analogy of the narrow Gate. But Levi could not let go of a verse. I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them, also. They, too, will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.
Other sheep. He’d always been given to understand these “other sheep” were the Gentiles, shown to faith by the Apostles after Jesus’s death. But the Old Order believed in applying Scripture to their everyday lives. Tula might not want to accept the Ordnung. But the Ordnung changed as the needs of the congregation did. The only thing that remained the same was the Scripture.
Without realizing he had done it, Levi was on his feet. He blinked as he became conscious of every eye upon him. The bishop had ceased his sermon.
“Brother Levi?”
“Other sheep. Jesus has other sheep.”
“There may be other Holdouts, yes.”
“No, sheep not of this sheep pen. Those who may still be brought out of the world. Who may repent and be saved. Cannibals, Blatt-”
“All we may do is live by example, Brother Levi.”
“Our example is nothing, Bishop! We are starving and suffering. Our children are dying. Why would the Blattvolk wish to live as we do? How can we be doing God’s work if we won’t even talk to them?”
A collective gasp filled the lower rooms of the house.
Brother Abe stood up several benches over. “The Blattvolk are damned. We must not open our lives to their influence.”
“Not all of them are damned. We determined that at the last Council Meet. The Afflicted may still be called to Jesus. Eily has accepted Christ as her Savior. When she is of age, I have no doubt she will accept Baptism.”
“Brother Levi, it is not our calling to separate Afflicted from Accepted. To let in one is to open ourselves to the influence of the other. Those called to Jesus will hear him.”
“And then you will cease your blindness and accept them with open arms?” Levi’s words were a scoffing question. No matter what Bishop Eldon said, he had the answer of Eily right in front of him.
“Brother Levi, moderate your tone. You overstep your bounds.” Deacon Yonnie rasped, his voice hoarse with a cold.
“What if I feel called to offer God’s Word to the Blattvolk?”
Voices rose throughout the congregation like the buzz of an angry hornet’s nest.
“We do not proselytize. To coerce with words promotes a weak and untrue repentance.”
“You are wrong!”
Silence filled the house. To brazenly oppose the Elders was unheard of. Levi shocked even himself, but the first step had been taken. He sighed a deep breath and looked around at his Brothers and Sisters.
“What if God has sent us these trials and tribulations to make us open our eyes? The Blattvolk do not ask us to give up our devotion to Christ. They have offered to heal our sons and daughters. Can we ignore the gifts God puts before us? If a sheep gives birth out of season, do we leave the lamb to freeze, just because it doesn’t fit the rules? No, the lamb is a gift, and we bring it into our home, and wrap it with blankets, and nurture it, so it can join our flock.”
Levi met the eyes of the people who did not turn away. Some glowered, but quite a few regarded him with what he could only assume was hope. Rachel Hulse and her oldest daughter matched expressions with lips bit between their teeth as if to hold back words. Brother John stroked a finger through the ends of his beard.
“He speaks against the Ordnung. Against God’s earthly laws!” Deacon Yonnie’s voice cracked, but he kept on. “Better to die a martyr than fall into the clutches of evil.”
To Levi’s surprise, Samuel rose to face Yonnie. “You do not have a child in the Ward, Brother Yonnie. You do not fret that your un-Confirmed son or daughter may never see the light of Heaven.”
“Children are exempt from the fires of Hell.”
“Children of the Blattvolk, as well?” Crimson faced, Samuel held his ground. Levi’s heart swelled with pride and gratitude.
Yonnie glared at Samuel. “Like the sin of Eve, the Blattvolk pass their curse on to their offspring.”
Brother John cleared his throat. Levi held his breath, worried which side the pastor would take. “God sent Jesus Christ to atone for Adam and Eve’s sin.” He played with the fringe of his beard, eyes heavenward in thought. “Would He do any less for one like Eily?”
Levi let out his air in a trembling sigh.
John continued, “I would like to read from the book of Isaiah, chapter forty three. God tells Israel, ‘Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now, it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.’“ He allowed the words to settle amongst the congregation. “Brother Levi has been called to speak. To have us consider new things. In the book of James, we are told that wisdom from above is pure and free from prejudice or hypocrisy. I am but a humble servant, unworthy to judge, but Levi’s words resonate with the forgiveness of Christ.”
Levi lowered his head, his heartbeat rapid. Had God called him to speak? He’d been a rebel all his life. Was this any different? Was he putting his own selfish hope for Josef ahead of the congregation, yet again? “I cannot say my words are from God. I only know we face challenging times, as dire as the days of the Prophet.”
“The Ordnung is scrutinized twice a year to allow us to address challenges like this.” Pastor John remained standing.
“The Council Meet has passed, Brother. Unity was reached.” Bishop Eldon asserted.
“And now, it is broken. Is there something in the Ordnung restricting re-evaluation at other times of the year?”
The voices in the room hovered just above shouting as the congregation argued. Men stood before their benches, waiting for opportunity to voice their opinions.
“Brothers and Sisters! Calm yourselves!” The bishop’s voice barely carried over the roar, but voices ebbed and subsided. “Brother John wishes to call another Council Meet. How many are also moved to do so?”
More “aye’s” filled the room than Levi would have expected.
“Then we must issue the call to Unity.”
Haldanian Protectorate
Tula re-read the conversion roster and carefully set the gamma pad on her desk. Her hands trembled and she was afraid she might drop it. Nine requests for conversion? There was only one cannibal child in Confinement at the moment. This list was marked for Tula’s special attention. What had the Protectorate done?
The com sprang to life at her desk and she jumped. “Dr. Macoby, report to Confinement.”
She cinched the dark lab coat firmly around her waist and slipped her gamma pad into the pocket. Down in Confinement, several children sat on two bunks inside a single cage, clutching hands. They had already gone through processing, their bald heads so pale the veins looked like penciled lines through the skin. But she knew they were Old Order. They still wore their clothing — dresses with aprons, trousers with suspenders.
Dark circles beneath their eyes and the occasional cough told her who these children were. They looked like walking skeletons.
“What are you doing here? Whe
re are your parents?”
The eldest stood without releasing the hands of the children beside her. “We’ve come to be healed.”
“The Protectorate won’t heal you without conversion. Where are your parents?” Had the Protectorate tired of waiting for volunteers that never came?
A waif of a boy spoke behind her. “Are you Tula?”
Tula turned. The child’s bones were about to puncture the skin of his skinny limbs. But his eyes … “Josef?” She’d only met him twice, and without his hair, he was hard to recognize.
“It is you! Papa said you’d take good care of me. That I wasn’t to cry.”
“There wathn’t woom on the duthter.” A small girl spoke around her thumb.
Tula’s heart beat so fast she couldn’t breathe. Sinking to the end of the cot next to Josef, she hovered a hand over his bald head, finally stroking his back. “Are you sure he wants you to be here?”
The older girl spoke again. “There was a call to Unity. God has shown us a new way.”
There was no Unity. The Order had shattered, resolving into two factions at odds with each other on only one subject: the salvation of the Blattvolk. About a quarter of the congregation had been moved by Levi’s plea. The Holdout now housed not only Old Order and Blattvolk, but also members of the New Order. Shunned by the rest of the congregation, they were led by Brother John, now named Bishop.
Standing in an anteroom of clear nuvoplast, Levi hoped his desperation had not led others astray. He glanced at Sister Rachel as she peered through the wall at the children playing in the Garden. The circulating air smelled slightly of wintergreen, and the sun’s rays through the ceiling were surprisingly pleasant — not too hot or too cool.
In the other room, a bald, green, spindly five-year-old walked around a circle of other green youngsters. The boy tapped another child and shouted “Goose!”
And then he ran.
Tears filled Levi’s eyes and he rubbed them away, not wanting to miss sight of a single step. He never thought he’d see Josef run and play again.
