Enemy of Gideon

by Melissa McGovern Taylor

  “So why are you telling me this? You know who my dad is,” he says.

  “Because you’re my best friend,” I say, “and I trust you.”

  His lips tighten. “You’re asking me to withhold information from my father, from CE. You’re expecting me to violate my duty as a citizen.”

  “I’m asking you to be a friend first, then a citizen,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “You have to prove it to me. Show me these enemies are peaceful.”

  “Of course,” Arkin says. “They’re good people. They mean no harm to the Code or anyone in Gideon. I want to take you to meet them.”

  Ogden’s eyes widen. “You can do that?”

  “Come with us to my village this Saturday,” Arkin says. “You can see for yourself.”

  “I’ll go,” he says. “I want to see what’s out there.”

  Despite the optism in Og’s voice, the pit in my stomach deepens.

  Are we going to regret what we’ve just done?

  ►▼◄

  “Arkin!” Saphie jumps into her older brother’s arms.

  “Hey, Saphie,” Arkin says. “How are you?”

  “Good! I love Saturdays,” she says. “You’ve been here every Saturday five times in a row!”

  “That’s right,” he says. “This is our friend, Ogden. Ogden, this is my little sister, Saphie.”

  Ogden offers Saphie a shy wave, which the pig-tailed five-year-old won’t settle for. She releases Arkin from her grasp and throws her arms around Ogden’s waist. He teeters with wide eyes, and his discomfort makes me giggle.

  “Hello, Ogden! Welcome to Philippi!” she says.

  Other believers look up from their dwellings in the neighborhood. Arkin’s mother approaches us, and Arkin exchanges greetings with her.

  “Who do we have here?” Cassie asks.

  Arkin introduces Ogden to her.

  “We’re going up to the garden to pick some herbs and vegetables,” Saphie says, twirling the basket in her hand. “Can you come with us, please, please, please?”

  Saphie sticks her bottom lip out as far as it will go, making me giggle.

  “Of course, we can,” I say.

  Arkin, Og, and I follow Saphie and Cassie through the neighborhood and beyond a set of double doors. We enter an unfamiliar tunnel. Arkin and Cassie flip on flashlights to light the way ahead.

  “This place is so dark,” Og whispers to me. “How do they live underground like this?”

  “They’d rather live like this than live in Gideon,” I say.

  “Gideon has power and lights,” he says. “Why would you give that up?”

  “Because down here, we’re free,” Arkin says.

  I can imagine Og’s puzzled expression. The thought makes me nauseous with worry. If we can’t convince him that the believers are rational people who should be allowed to live outside the Code, Og will make sure they all fall under the Code’s authority again. He holds a tremendous amount of power in his hands, the fate of an entire village, including Arkin and his family. How many believers would be outraged if they knew about Og’s connection to Code Enforcement? How many of them wouldn’t have invited Ogden to Philippi?

  Several yards into the tunnel, Cassie stops in front of a metal ladder.

  “I hope no one is scared of heights,” she says.

  “I am,” Ogden says.

  “It’s not that high up,” I say.

  Saphie goes first, so Cassie can spot her. I follow.

  “Wait a minute,” Arkin says. “The ladder may not be able to bear all the weight. When you see a light shine up above, start climbing.”

  I hold his flashlight as he hoists himself up the first few steps of the ladder. It creaks and groans under his weight. As Arkin disappears into the darkness above, Og looks at me with wide eyes.

  “It’ll be fine. Relax,” I say.

  “Have you been up this ladder before?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Then don’t tell me to relax.”

  We wait as the creaking becomes fainter, and a light opens up way above our heads.

  “After you,” I say, stepping aside for Og.

  He grimaces, grasps the sides of the ladder and climbs. I follow, looking beyond him at the light flashing above us as Arkin, Saphie, and Cassie climb out of the tunnel. The ladder groans and creaks, shifting at the sides.

  “Whoa!” Og’s foot misses my nose by an inch.

  “Og! Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine. Sorry,” he says, steadying himself. “I lost track of the step.”

  “Take it one at a time,” I say, gripping the cold ladder.

  We’re a good twelve feet from the floor, not a safe height to fall from.

  “You two all right?” Arkin calls from above.

  “We’re fine!” I yell back.

  Og presses upward, grunting with each step. The sunlight above our heads grows brighter until his form covers me in darkness while he exits the tunnel. The sunlight burns my eyes for a moment as I adjust to it and take Og’s hand from above. Relief spills over me when I place my feet on the grass.

  We’re in the woods again, but other forms appear beyond the trees and vines. Remnants of brick walls stand between trees, covered in ivy and wisteria. At my feet, chunks of broken cement litter the grass.

  “This used to be some type of factory or office building,” Cassie says, following my curious gaze. “We think they used to park the motor vehicles underground, where we live now.”

  “The gas-powered vehicles,” Og says. “My father said people used to drive around on long roads for hours across the land.”

  I give him a puzzled frown.

  “My father isn’t as ignorant as you think,” he says. “He knows a lot about what the world was like before Gideon was founded.”

  “Your father is the chief of Code Enforcement, isn’t he?” Cassie asks.

  I nearly choke.

  Ogden nods.

  “Arkin told me he would bring you here to visit eventually,” Cassie says. “He hoped you would come here.”

  “He’s an important piece of the puzzle,” Arkin says, walking away from the group.

  “I am?” Og asks.

  “Every person is an important piece,” Cassie says.

  Ogden exchanged glances with me. I shrug, and we hurry to catch up with the others, who forge ahead through the thick woods. After a few minutes of walking amid broken slabs of concrete, branches, and brush, we step beyond the woods and into an open clearing. Rows and rows of plants flourish in the sunshine. I recognize peach and pear trees, tomato vines, broccoli, and strawberry plants among many other varieties of fruits and vegetables.

  Other believers walk up and down the rows carrying rusty watering cans.

  “Where does your water come from?” Og asks.

  “There’s a stream on the other side of those woods,” Cassie says, pointing. “We carry water over to the plants when there’s a dry spell. The rain over the last few days has been a major blessing.”

  “Come pick turnips with me,” Saphie says, taking Og’s hand.

  He gives me a look of desperation.

  “Go on. She’ll show you how,” I say.

  He allows Saphie to drag him down one of the rows. Cassie follows close behind. I watch as Ogden learns how to harvest turnips. He soon laughs with Saphie as they fill a basket. The knot in my stomach unravels. Was I wrong about Og?

  Arkin walks over to a pregnant woman pulling up carrots nearby. They embrace, and he laughs as the woman allows him to place his hand on her growing belly. The breeze tosses his blond bangs about. He encompasses bravery, intelligence, and forgiveness. He carries joy with him wherever he goes, despite the pain of his brother’s death and a life lived away from his real family. Could I be joyful, forgiving, and caring like him? What would it take for me to be like that?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ogden shows more enthusiasm for the outskirts and its people than I could’ve ever imagined. After t
he first visit, he won’t stop hinting at his desire to return.

  “When do we go back?” he asks nearly every day after that first Saturday.

  Arkin never says “I told you so” to me, but the look in his eyes screams it. He wears a proud smirk every time Ogden mentions what a great time he had meeting the “interesting people” in that “fascinating place.”

  When we return to Philippi on the first Saturday in May, Ogden sits through his first worship service, but he asks Arkin many questions on the way back through the tunnel. Even while walking through the horse pasture, he continues to probe Arkin.

  “What are their intentions with this message and this Jesus?” he asks.

  “We want everyone to know about Him,” Arkin says.

  “But how will you tell all of Gideon without upsetting the Code? Jesus breaks many codes,” he says.

  The tone in his voice makes me want to scribble on paper. Og doesn’t sound excited about Philippi anymore.

  “I don’t know the big plan,” Arkin says. “I only know my own mission and the mission of many others who come from our villages into Gideon.”

  His brow drops. “There’s a big plan?”

  “It’s getting close to curfew,” I say, nodding at the setting sun. “We need to get our IDs from Sted and head home.”

  Og doesn’t say a word as we walk home. What’s going on in his head? Is he going to keep our secret?

  “Og, come back next weekend,” Arkin says in front of the apartment elevator. “You can find out more about what you need to know.”

  He nods, but his expression remains blank.

  In the next few days, he avoids me and Arkin after school, terrifying me more than I can bear. The next Saturday morning, we go up to his apartment, but his mom answers the door.

  “Sorry,” she says. “Ogden’s not feeling well today.”

  “That’s too bad,” Arkin says. “Will you tell him we came by?”

  “I will,” she says, smiling as she closes the door.

  “See, maybe he’s been feeling sick all week,” Arkin says as we head down the hall.

  I say nothing, pushing back the urge to demand an audience with Ogden. I can scare him into silence, threaten him to keep quiet. I know Arkin wouldn’t approve of that, though. Besides, such an approach could possibly backfire. With prayer, maybe God would help Ogden come around.

  I continue my prayer, but I worry about Ogden all the way to Philippi. We arrive in time for worship, and I sit at the front, listening once again to the sweet sound of Arkin’s guitar. The believers lift their hands and close their eyes.

  During the beautiful song, I can’t think about Ogden or my worries anymore. Even my constant grief over the loss of Petra departs long enough for joy to peek through. The words of the song speak to me in a new way.

  “Cry no more, sinners

  The Savior has come

  Cry no more, the deed is done

  Jesus bore it all

  Lay your sin at his feet

  Cry no more, sinners

  Your souls are now free.”

  Every note of the song, every word strikes my heart like a hand knocking on a door. My lack of forgiveness, my anger, my pride, and my shame sit upon my shoulders like a sack of sand. Petra’s words from the letter come to mind again, “I am in His hands.” I want to be in God’s hands. If I could hand it to Jesus, I would be free, free like Arkin, and he behaves a lot like Jesus. I want to be like Jesus.

  I force back the tears aching to stream out. I’m ready to let it go, God. I’m ready to give it to You.

  In a fraction of a second, the weight lifts from me as the tears burst from my eyes in a flood. I sink from the chair on to the floor, heaving for breath. I hunch on the cold floor, weeping into my hands. Arkin’s guitar strumming stops, but the voices and violin continue.

  “Praise God!” a voice yells.

  “Hallelujah!” another shouts.

  Arkin’s familiar arms drape across my back. Hand after hand lands on my back and more land on my head. The guilt and sorrow pour out of me with the flow of tears. Are hours passing rather than minutes? Every touch from a believer feels as if God is touching me. My heart mends with every voice, every beat, every tear, and every hand.

  The music ends, and my tears taper off. I keep my head down for a moment, groping at my experience. Something very real happened, something I can’t explain. An invisible light and weightlessness still embrace me. A whole group of believers surround me, grinning. I sit up and find Arkin beside me. Tears shine in his eyes as he opens his arms to me. I hug him and don’t want to let go. If it hadn’t been for Petra and Arkin, I would still be in the dark, carrying that heavy weight all through Gideon for the rest of my life. But my smile fades. Petra isn’t here to celebrate with us. Yet, now I know for sure, I will see my sister again.

  ►▼◄

  The people of Philippi celebrate new believers with a feast, according to Philippi standards, not Gideon standards. They serve fresh fruits and vegetables, and they kill, prepare, and cook several chickens over the fireplaces in the neighborhood. The musicians play, and the people dance. This time, it’s all for one new believer: me.

  Arkin dances with Saphie, floating like a leaf on water. He looks odd without boots and a uniform on, wearing a blue button-down shirt and brown shorts. I clap to the beat as I sit on the floor with others who are too shy to dance. The believers welcomed me with embraces and kind words. These are the people Petra loved and once worshipped with. They are my new family.

  “Dance with me,” Arkin says, offering his hand.

  I shake my head automatically as my cheeks warm.

  “I won’t accept no for an answer!” he yells, grabbing my arm.

  I relent and push myself up from the concrete floor.

  “Have you ever danced?” he asks.

  “Of course not,” I say. The Code only permits dancing on New Year's Eve, if a person is inclined to dance. I never am.

  “Today is your lucky day!” he says with a laugh.

  He instructs me to place my hand on his shoulder. He holds my other hand and guides me along at a quick pace, matching the flow of the flute and violins. I laugh at my clumsiness as I step on his bare feet.

  “Raissa, I’ve never seen you smile so much,” he says.

  He’s right. My worries shrink in the midst of knowing God’s love. We circle around the floor, back and forth like a pendulum. Now we’re both leaves on water. The music ends, and everyone claps.

  “Not bad for your first dance,” he says.

  His eyes flash in the candlelight. I wish I could kiss him. The longing surprises me, and I replace it with thoughts of when we should return to Gideon.

  “I can’t remain here all day,” I say. “My mom wants me home in time to go to the market with her. She’s cooking dinner for that … man.”

  Arkin sits on a blanket away from the crowd, and I join him. A solo violinist plays a much slower melody now.

  “It will take time,” he says, “but you have to forgive your mom.”

  “Forgive my mom?” I ask.

  He nods. “You’re angry at her for forgetting Petra and for being with Hunter. Don’t try to deny it.”

  I allow the truth of his words to sink in. “I can’t understand how she can move on.”

  “She’s allowed her commitment to citizenship to numb her heart. She’s ignoring her true feelings,” he says. “Eventually, I want us to reach out to her and bring her here too.”

  My hope swells at the thought. Mom becoming a believer would make everything right. We could stay in Philippi and lead a new life. I could be a part of this family too.

  “But what about Hunter?” I ask. “If he is a spy, he’ll never let my mother leave Gideon.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s like the ladder in the tunnel. You have to take it one step at a time.”

  I smile at him, and he smiles back. I wish I could tell him how I feel about him, but I don’t know how he’ll respond. After al
l, he told Og we were just friends. In the past four months, our relationship shifted from phase to phase, from a mere crush to a friend to enemy to role model. Until I discovered my deeper feelings for him, deeper than all of those I had before combined.

  He opens his mouth to speak, but his words disappear with a burst of shouting.

  “They’re coming! Code Enforcement is in the tunnel!” a man screams, running through the neighborhood. “Flee now! Get the women and children above ground first!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The violin’s melody stops dead, and celebration transforms into instant panic. The believers grab their loved ones. Others run to their makeshift homes to gather belongings. Arkin and I jump to our feet as Cassie rushes to us, carrying Saphie.

  “Mom!” Arkin calls.

  “Take your sister and get above ground!” she shouts over the chaos.

  “What about you?” he asks, taking Saphie.

  “I must see that all the women and children escape,” she says.

  “Mommy, I’m scared,” Saphie says.

  “It’ll be okay, my angel,” she says, kissing Saphie on the cheek. “When you get above ground, run to Corinth as fast as you can and warn them. There’s a compass in Saphie’s satchel. Go east. I know you can do this, Arkin.”

  He nods and leads the way to the other tunnel. Women and children already pile through the door. I look back. The elderly believers still remain sitting on the floor. They kiss the children good-bye as they pass. Others sit with their heads bowed and eyes closed, mouths whispering. At the opposite end of the huge room, a group of nearly twenty men stand blocking the double-doors with their bodies. Banging comes from the other side of the door. Muffled voices from the other side yell, “Code Enforcement! Stand down!”

  “Come on! Hurry!” Arkin shouts, pulling me into the tunnel.

  No one panics in the dark tunnel. A baby wails in her mother’s arms, and a few children whimper, including Saphie. Arkin sets her down on her feet and whispers something to her. A few flashlights lead the way as the steady flow of women and children walk at a quick pace toward the crowded ladder. Please, God, don’t let the ladder fall, I pray.