“Careful now,” a woman says at the foot of the ladder. “Take your time.”
Behind me, flashlights point in my direction from the entrance to the full tunnel. A sound like thunder rings out from beyond the doors. The tunnel trembles, sending dust down from the ceiling. The woman and children scream. Arkin’s eyes widen. I take his hand, imagining the worst. I know he imagines it too: CE has blasted their way into the neighborhood.
Finally, Saphie takes her turn up the ladder toward the sunlight. She climbs like a professional, despite the strange, frightening circumstances. I follow and then Arkin. The last time we climbed this ladder, Og was with us.
Ogden. The name bounces around in my head. Someone told CE Philippi’s location, and the Code Enforcement chief’s son visited Philippi one week ago. It’s no coincidence. Ogden gave up Philippi.
Above ground, women and children are all ready jogging east, and the three of us follow.
“My mom said we have to run,” Arkin says. “Saphie, get on my back.”
He crouches down for Saphie to climb on and rises back up. “Be careful. There’s a lot of debris in these woods.”
We run past the crowd of women and children, dodging trees and stacks of old bricks. I try my best to keep up. The sun beats down through openings in the tree branches and hits my brow, coaxing out beads of sweat.
“How far is Corinth?” I ask, heaving between words.
“A few miles east,” he says.
My jaw drops. “I can’t run a few miles!”
“We’ll run as far as we can,” he says. “Then we’ll walk.”
After thirty minutes, my legs burn and my muscles are gelatin. I can see Arkin’s pace waning. With sweat falling into his eyes, he collapses to his knees. Saphie slips off, and we stop.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He pants. “I need a break. We’re almost there, though. The old highway is beyond those trees.”
I cough, easing my breathing. “What’s a highway?”
“A wide road they used to drive motor vehicles on,” Saphie says.
“We have to keep moving,” he says, walking ahead toward a clearing beyond the woods.
I follow them on aching legs. We step out of the woods and onto a harder surface. Under my feet lay weeds and broken chunks of black rock. Ahead of us, red sour weed sways in the breeze, growing to our left and right for miles with woods on either side. We pass through the blades, stepping on uneven patches of black rock.
“Be careful,” he says. “There are barriers ahead that we have to climb over.”
The barriers are rusted metal wrapped in vines and stand almost waist high. I lift Saphie across the first. Arkin then climbs over, revealing his bare feet and his right heel caked in blood. We left in too great a rush for him to grab shoes.
“Arkin, your foot,” I say.
He examines his heel. “I’ll be all right. I grew up in these woods. My feet are tougher than they look.”
“Wait,” I say, removing my boots. “I know you can’t fit my shoes, but at least wear my socks.”
“It’s okay.”
I remove my socks. “You need them.”
He gives me a sheepish look as he sits.
“We can clean it,” Saphie says, offering a bottle of water from her satchel.
I take the bottle and open it. Then I hold his foot in my other hand and pour water on it. I pour more and use my hands to rub away the stubborn dirt, revealing a gash on the bottom of his heel. I then use my sleeve to dry his foot.
“Let me see the other one,” I say. “I might as well wash both.”
He offers his other foot with a strange look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I pour water on the other foot.
“You’re washing my feet.”
The impact of his words doesn’t hit me right away. It takes me a moment to remember how Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, and how the sinful woman had washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.
“You shouldn’t read into it so much,” I say.
“I don’t have to.”
He slips the socks on as I return the boots back to my bare feet. We resume our walk, crossing another rusty barrier and then reentering the woods moments later.
“It was Ogden, wasn’t it?” I growl.
“Now is not the time to make assumptions,” he says. “We don’t know who compromised the village. There are visitors in Philippi all the time.”
“He’s been acting suspicious all week. Do you think that’s a coincidence?” I ask.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Ogden is my friend,” Saphie says. “He wouldn’t send the bad people.”
I wish she was right, but she’s not.
►▼◄
When we arrive in Corinth, I expect to see another garden, but we encounter a wooden building instead. Arkin runs to the door and beats on it.
The door cracks open, revealing the face of a thin man with sunken eyes. I squint. The eyes are familiar, but I can’t pinpoint where I saw them before. Perhaps the man once lived in my apartment building or worked in the school. Believers are all over Gideon.
“Arkin?” the man says. “What are you doing here?”
Arkin’s breath catches in his throat. “They’ve taken Philippi! Code Enforcement raided Philippi!”
I loop my arm through Arkin’s to offer some comfort. His panic triggers Saphie’s crying as she hugs his side.
“My parents are still back there,” he says.
The man opens the door all the way, revealing the rest of his thin body hunched over a cane. Despite his frailty and gray hair, the man doesn’t look beyond his forties.
“Come inside,” the man says. “Were you being followed?”
“The women and children are probably a mile or two behind us,” he says, “but the officers were underground.”
The man runs his eyes up and down my coveralls.
“It’s okay, Elder Timothy. She’s one of us,” he says. “This is Raissa Santos.”
Elder Timothy nods at me, and then returns his attention to Arkin. “She needs to go back to Gideon before they link her to Philippi.”
In less than an hour, I receive a new wrist ID programmed as my own and a horse to ride back to Gideon. Fire, a solid black mare, would take me to a farm on the southeast edge of Gideon. From there, I would have to find a way back home.
“I know you’ve never been on a horse alone, but Fire is an even better ride than Piper,” Arkin says.
“A solo ride on a horse is the least of my worries right now,” I say, adjusting myself into the saddle. “You can’t come back to Gideon now, can you?”
“I have to find out who leaked our whereabouts and if I’m still covert,” he says. “No matter what happens, I’ll be back for you.”
“I’m going to find out who did this,” I say.
“Don’t,” he says, knowing exactly what I mean.
I gaze into the sunny forest surrounding Corinth. Believers’ cabins surround us. Philippi’s women and children are settling in with the Corinth believers. Philippi’s men have not yet arrived. Neither have Arkin’s parents.
“Go home and act normal,” he says. “I’ll come for you when the time is right.”
The emotional ups and downs of the day are etched on his face. How does rejoicing morph into terror without warning? A warning did sound, though. Ogden acted cold and distant. That should have been warning enough.
What would Petra do in my position? Would she stand by and say nothing if she knew the person responsible for all of this? Petra may have been a good citizen, but she wasn’t weak.
“Pray for me,” I say.
Then I whisper the secret word into Fire’s ear, and the creature takes off like a bullet through the forest.
►▼◄
“Can I speak to Ogden?” I ask when the door opens.
“He’s still sick,” Mrs. Penski says.
“Please, two minutes tops
,” I say, trying to keep calm.
I still pant from running up the flights of stairs to Ogden’s apartment. My legs are rubber after jogging three miles across Gideon from the farm where I left Fire. I wanted to give in to exhaustion during the entire journey, to go home and collapse in bed, but rage propelled my every step up to Ogden.
“All right,” Mrs. Penski says, “but if you catch what he’s got, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Thank you,” I say, stepping into the apartment.
I slip through the living room, ignoring Ogden’s little brothers who greet me with waves and crooked grins. My body heat climbs with each step. I don’t knock on Og’s bedroom door, but instead I burst in.
Og stands in front of his dresser drawers in yellow pajamas with a dumbfounded look.
“What are you—?”
I shut the door and storm at him. Grabbing him by the pajama collar, I slam him up against the wall.
“Why did you give away Philippi?” I scream, my spit flying into his face.
“What are you talking about?” he squeals, his eyes bugging behind his glasses.
“Don’t act like you don’t know, you snitch!”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything to anyone!”
The blood rushes to my head, and the heat pulses through my veins. I want to punch him in the gut, but the fear in his eyes freezes my fist. Is he telling the truth?
“CE raided Philippi,” I say, my throat and eyes burning. “They took Arkin’s parents. Why would you do this to us?”
He shakes his head all the more. “Let me go! I swear I didn’t do it!”
A knock comes at the door. “You two quit horsing around,” Mrs. Penski says from the other side.
“Sorry, Mrs. Penski,” I say, releasing Og’s collar and backing away.
“I knew it,” he says, dropping down on his bed. “My dad set it up.”
I tense. “What are you talking about?”
“He said I should keep being friends with you, that you needed me, but he was trying to get to their village,” he says. “On the way to Hollis and Sons last time, I thought I saw this guy following us. I recognized him from CE headquarters. I don’t know how long he’d been stalking us, so I decided to stay away from you guys.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this?”
“Because you’d blame me, Raissa! You always freak out on me!”
I turn from his accusing gaze. The truth hurts.
“What did the guy look like?” I ask.
“Tall, brown hair. His name is Hunter something,” he says.
My mouth goes agape.
“What’s all this about?” Mrs. Penski yells from the hall.
“Stand back, Mrs. Penski!” a deep voice shouts.
The bedroom door bursts open, revealing two uniformed CE officers. Their eyes scan the bedroom.
“Grab her!” one says, pointing at me.
Ogden blocks the officer’s path to me. “No!”
I dart to the opposite corner of the room, but they have me trapped. The first officer slams into me, pinning my chest against the wall.
“You’re under arrest for violation of codes …”
The officer’s words become a blur as I fight with all of my strength. Both officers overpowered me, forcing my hands behind my back and cuffing me. Ogden protests, but Chief Penski cuts him off.
“Get out of the way, Ogden,” the chief says. He turns to me. “Knock her out!”
I fight harder, kicking my legs, scratching, and making contact with one of the officers. Something sharp pierces my neck, a needle, and a fiery sensation spreads outward from the shot. The room spins and blurs. My limbs no longer follow my commands but fall dead, dropping me to my knees. My eyelids are stone slabs, blocking out the world around me.
Chief Penski’s face appears only inches from mine. “Time for rehabilitation.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The smell of cotton and alcohol hits my nostrils even before I open my eyes. A soft hand caresses my forehead, and my mother’s gentle humming echoes around me. Hard, metal springs in a thin mattress press into my back. Florescent light pierces through my eyelids. The space around me comes into focus, revealing a white room with a metal cart, and Mom in a chair beside me.
“Hi, bug. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I attempt to move my arm, but it resists. Both wrists are strapped to the rails of the bed. The memories flood in as my silent questions are answered one after another. I remember surrendering to God, dancing with Arkin, and running to Corinth. The long journey to Ogden’s apartment and the terror on his face. More troubling questions pour into my mind, the ones I can’t answer.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“The rehabilitation facility,” she says. “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to help you.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“You’ve been in a deep depression since we lost Petra,” she says, stroking my hair, “and the enemies took advantage of you. The doctors here are going to help you, though. We should be grateful to Chief Penski for being so kind. They could’ve punished you severely, but—”
“I want to go home,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm.
“You can’t go home until you’re all better.”
“We don’t have to live like this,” I whisper. “We can leave Gideon. There are more villages, more believers.”
She rises from the chair and walks toward the door. “Shhh. You’ll be good as new when you come home.”
“Mom? Where are you going? What are they going to do to me?”
She opens the door. “It’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait!” I yank at the restraints. “Mom, don’t leave! Mom!”
►▼◄
“Raissa Santos?” the woman asks, pushing her glasses up her narrow nose.
The CE officer makes me sit in the chair across from her desk and cuffs my ankle to the chair leg. Then he leaves the office. I ignore her and stare down at my slippered feet.
“I’m Dr. Millay Harget,” the woman says, “and I will be your therapist for the duration of your time here at the facility.”
I still say nothing. What time is it? I have no sense of it, thanks to the tranquilizers they’ve been pumping into me. Have hours passed or has it been days since my arrest? Are Arkin and Saphie still safe in Corinth? What became of the captured believers in Philippi? The questions close in on me like walls.
“This time is meant to be your opportunity to vent your feelings,” Harget says. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
I keep my eyes on the floor.
“I heard you made it to an enemy camp. Do you want to tell me about that experience?” she asks.
I shake my head, sitting up in the chair but still avoiding her glance.
“Good. It’s nice to get a response from you. I’d call that a successful first session.”
“I want to go home,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Why do you want to go home? What do you like about your home?” she asks, dividing her attention between me and her desk touch-screen.
“I don’t belong here,” I say.
“You lived with your mother and your sister, right?”
“They killed my sister.”
“Who? The enemy?” she asks.
“Of course not!” I yell. “Code Enforcement killed her! You know that, so stop playing dumb!”
She throws up her hands and smirks. “You caught me, Raissa. It’s true. I know a lot about you. It’s what I don’t know that I’m hoping you’ll share with me.”
“I don’t know where the other villages are,” I say. “And even if I did, I would never tell any of you.”
“I don’t care a lick about where the enemies are,” Harget says with a sympathetic smile. “I don’t work for CE. My job is to help you get back home.”
I cock my head. “So
what do I need to do?”
The therapist folds her hands on the desk. “Tell me what you’re thinking about and how you’re feeling. It’s as simple as that.”
“I’m angry.”
“What’s making you angry?”
“Being held here against my will,” I say. “Being forced to live by the Code. Everything!”
She smirks. “I promise, by the time you leave this facility, you won’t be angry anymore.”
►▼◄
“Help, Lord, for no one is faithful anymore; those who are loyal have vanished from the human race. Everyone lies to their neighbor; they flatter with their lips.”
The words from Psalm 12 come to mind as I lay restrained in the bed, waiting. I now understand why I memorized certain verses. I’ll need them to stay sane, to keep my hope steady.
What time is it?
In the white-walled, windowless room, the cool, still air slows time. Every few minutes, footsteps and voices stream in from the hall, but they fade away in a matter of seconds. No clock hangs on the wall, and no wristband graces my arm. But my stomach aches for food. My last meal was at Philippi with Arkin. I’ve been praying and recalling verses from the Bible for an hour or more. God, please get me out of here. Somehow I have to get out of here.
A buzzer sounds, startling me from my thoughts. The door opens across from my bed, and a nurse in blue coveralls enters, pushing a metal cart.
“We have your breakfast ready, Raissa Santos,” the wrinkled woman says in a sing-song voice, reminding me of a grandmother.
“I can’t eat with my hands like this,” I say, shaking my wrist restraints.
The nurse lifts a plastic tray from the cart. “We’ll work it out, dear.”
“This is ridiculous. I need my hands,” I say, sitting up in the bed.
“I’m afraid you’re not ready for that privilege yet.”
The nurse takes a seat in the chair beside the bed and sets the tray on her lap. Opening the covered dish, she reveals a jelly biscuit, scrambled eggs, and a sausage link. The warm aroma makes my stomach grumble in empty pain. The nurse scoops up a forkful of eggs for me.
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