by Erin Lorence
“That makes sense.” Gilead rounded on Wolfe. “You, Heathen. Your sister said there have been other Christian disappearances reported around here?”
Wolfe shifted one foot onto the top ladder rung. “Yeah.”
Gilead turned to Trinity. “What was Micah’s mom’s reaction to the news that his dad—her husband—had been taken?”
My brother’s question surprised me. What did her reaction matter to him? Gilead never cared about anyone’s feelings except his own.
Trinity gazed into Micah’s averted face. “A lot of the time she seemed like she’d given up. But at other moments...she was furious. She wanted me to promise that—never mind.”
Micah dropped his vegetables. He took her hand and looked at her in that nonblinking manner he usually saved for me. “What did my mom make you promise, Trinity?”
“She asked me to find your dad and the people who took him. And make them pay.”
For the first time ever, smile lines appeared in the corners of Gilead’s gray eyes. “Bullseye.”
7
Trinity faced Micah another long moment then turned. “What...what do you mean, Gil?”
“Nothing. We’ll assume the Uniforms are Heathen, and the Uniforms might come back.” My brother approached the wall where I leaned. He waved the rabbit carcasses at the rafters. “Someone should keep watch and give us warning if they do.”
His eyes, no longer smiling, drilled into Wolfe.
Wolfe’s eyes widened and he pointed a slow thumb at his own chest. “Me?”
Gilead nodded. “You’ll do. C’mon.”
“Where are we going?”
I gestured at the ceiling. “To Grandpa’s lookout tower so you can keep watch?”
Gilead nodded and stepped onto the first maple branch to make the descent to the forest floor. I moved to the rail to watch. Wolfe followed him. The dark-haired figure didn’t embarrass himself on the easy climb down—a miracle, with his hurt palm and after all his climbing today.
My brother motioned for Wolfe to lead the way up the sky-reaching ladder to the platform with the bell. When Wolfe made it to the pile of leaves at the top, he turned with a grin of victory. Clang, clang! Clang, clang!
Gilead, his head just below the platform’s floor, pulled a metal tool from his rope belt. “No more noise, idiot. Only touch the bell when you sight a trespasser. Got it?”
“Sure. I got it—Hey!” The smile dropped from his lips.
Using his crowbar, Gilead pried the first nailed rung from the tree trunk. Within seconds he’d removed the ladder’s first five rungs, letting them freefall to the ground below.
“Stop it, Gil! Don’t be a jerk.” I dropped from the maple’s last handhold and met my sibling on the forest floor. “You’ve stranded him up there. He can’t climb off the platform like we can.”
I surveyed the five-foot gap between the plank floor and the nearest high branches—a leap I could make in my sleep. But Wolfe couldn’t.
“That’s the point. It’ll keep him focused on being lookout. Stay off those limbs, Dove. I mean it. If I find you up there with him, well, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
“Don’t prisoners at least get meals?” Wolfe’s long legs dangled off the edge. The nearest rung was about ten feet below his rubber soles.
Gilead seemed to consider the dead rabbits on the ground. Then he called, “Micah? Food?”
A couple raw potatoes arced from one tree canopy to the next. Micah’s aim was lousy. One nicked the platform edge and fell, but Gilead caught it. He tossed it up at Wolfe.
“Ow! Hey! They’re not cooked!”
My brother ignored our lookout’s complaint and thrust the rabbits at me. “See if you and Trinity can make something worth eating with these and the rest of the vegetables. I’ll harvest some honey and help when I can.”
Wolfe’s muffled voice called down, “These are bad. So bad. Go make dinner, Dove—and hurry.”
A strong hand gripped my shoulder. “Dove. I don’t want you up there. For any reason. Promise me.”
I shook it off and swung up toward the sound of the radio, which blasted from the living space. “Go get the honey, Gil.”
I waited until he was out of sight behind the first garbage pile, then I climbed higher—not to my grandpa’s platform, but to a hidden seat, surrounded by leaves. I balanced the floppy meat in a crook and leaned my head back. From the canopy above came the occasional grating of Wolfe’s teeth against the raw potato. Was he aware he wouldn’t be getting anything else to eat tonight—at least if Gilead had his way? Probably. The guy had a habit of acting more brainless than he was.
I shut my eyes. Why had I tried so hard to keep my brother alive last spring? This whole month while we’d lived as Sent, he’d been pigheaded and full of prejudice and hate. Now the rest of my family was gone, and I was stuck with him.
A hint of smoke wafted to where I sat. Either he was sedating the bees at the hives or Micah and Trinity were charring the potatoes in an attempt to roast them. Probably the latter. Trinity was a terrible cook. I shifted and reached a hand to climb.
The radio voice stuttering in Amhebran halted me. “Mo-more of us taken!”
My brows twitched down. Who was broadcasting? The voice was a male’s...but not Danny’s warm bass. Yet the broadcast had to be from Rahab’s Roof’s station since the person spoke in the language only Christians used.
“Oregon’s Council hasn’t...hasn’t told us what to do. But I expect any day we will hear. You should stay tuned and check in often. Because we must take action. Done for now. This message will be repeated.”
I flopped back. The stutterer was the garbage-bagged Christian I’d met twice before. At our last meeting, he’d loomed at the top of Portland’s tallest building with the red moonlight splashing over him. He’d called me a Heathen lover. He’d threatened to throw me off the roof because of my message for peace. And now he was telling everyone over the airwaves to expect a call for action from the Council. He was angry about Christians being taken away, like Mrs. Brae was.
None of this was good. My missing family. The other missing Christians. The anger boiling among us Christians left behind. If this continued, peace couldn’t. And finally, Reed and Gilead, and all those other pigheaded Christians who panted for war would get their way.
The Reclaim would begin. And what would I do?
I heaved myself up to salvage the dinner I’d eventually sneak to my friend. I paused, halfway off the limb.
Of course. I’d do what I always did—I’d do what was right. Even if “right” meant defying my brother and all the other believers that stood in my way.
8
Gilead ushered Wolfe into our living space with the same air Savannah had used when leading me into the courtroom last spring. Micah switched off the radio, and the ongoing bird chatter suddenly dominated the early morning.
My brother pointed at a chair. Wolfe dropped into it.
I bounced to my feet. “Sky alive! Are you Jezebel’s brother or a slug? Have an inch of her backbone.”
Wolfe grinned but spoke from the corner of his mouth, as if not sure he should be talking. “No, thanks. I’m choosing to keep all my teeth. And to continue to walk on two, unbroken legs.”
A moment later, he relocated to a different chair a foot away and began to whistle an unsteady tune under his breath. My brother allowed this flea’s amount of defiance and settled in Gran’s rocker. He nodded at Micah, as if finishing an unspoken conversation.
“The Heathen has an idea. Tell everyone, Heathen.”
The pitchy whistling warbled off. “Uh, sure. As I lay sleepless last night, alone, on your grandpa’s hard floor, under an old blanket that smelled of opossum, an idea occurred to me. I’d say it was about two in the morning—”
A maple seed pod launched from the rocking chair.
Wolfe rubbed the pink mark it left between his eyes. “To sum it up, today I’ll drive to the Christian Terrorist Detention Center and ch
eck for your family. I’m the best choice to go since I’m not a fanat—a Christian.”
“Brilliant.”
“Brilliant,” I echoed my cousin. My arms crossed. “Except I’m coming to the CTDC, too.”
“We’ll all go. We ride together—stay together—this time.” Gilead glanced at our neighbor, who nodded.
My mouth flopped open. Gilead agreed to be a passenger in Wolfe’s Jeep?
“Gil’s right,” Micah said. “We need to move fast on this...find out if they’ve been taken to the CTDC. If they aren’t there then...” He shrugged.
My brother headed for the branches that led to the only working vehicle on our property. “If they aren’t there, then we find the trail of the uniformed Heathen who hijacked our people, hunt them down, and take back what’s ours. Trinity, leave a note under the kettle for Micah’s mom in case she sends Zion up for us. Tell her we won’t be back until we all come back.”
All of us back. For the first time in days, my brother made sense. I grabbed my backpack, added my jar of green pennies, and flung my bulky belongings over my shoulder. I hesitated at the rail to soak in Gran’s chair. My hammock. My parents’ marriage certificate on the worn tabletop I’d eaten off of since babyhood.
No, I wouldn’t give into the lump in my throat and go teary-eyed. Because I’d be back. Like Gilead said, we’d all come home.
~*~
The cop car eased over the pavement and headed toward our parked Jeep. I pulled up my floppy hood, worn ragged by Gil’s head years ago. Next to me, Wolfe slid his dark glasses onto his nose and drummed a soft pattern on the wheel in time to my brother’s quick respirations. Micah hunkered on the floor behind me, barely breathing, his beard jammed between his knees. Trinity was also silent.
The car came nose to nose with us, slid past, and turned out of the parking lot.
I swallowed when it disappeared down the road. “You’ll stay here, Wolfe. I’ll go inside and ask instead. Since it’s my family.”
“Sure...jailbird.” With that cryptic warning, Wolfe exited the Jeep.
“I’ll be right back.” He gave a little wave and sauntered toward the CTDC—the building where I’d spent several weeks last spring.
Wolfe understood my familiarity with the exact shade of pink on the walls, the ripped mattresses, the cardboard-tasting food, the guards. And equally important, he knew that the other occupants of this vehicle were clueless that I’d ever stepped foot inside the CTDC before.
“The slug grew a beautiful spine after all,” Trinity commented.
Micah uncurled to sit up straight. Gilead hummed.
I threw a look of question at my brother. Why are you so cheerful? I turned back just as Wolfe’s black shirt disappeared behind the CTDC’s shaded glass door.
My knees jiggled up and down and sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. The sunlight oozed over my skin like molten lava.
The few other vehicles coming and going in the lot lined themselves up in the shade of the bordering, dying pine forest, far away from our chosen spot. We’d parked in a hostile corner next to a garbage bin that reflected the heat. Shards of glass from a broken bottle glinted on the black tar, an excellent buffer between us and shiny cars with fat tires visiting the terrorist center.
Trinity sighed. “This is an ugly spot. Filthy and hot. It looks like someone threw up on that metal bin.”
Where was Wolfe? Why didn’t he return with an answer? Yes, they were here. No, they weren’t. Either way, a ten-second response. What took him so long?
Micah retracted his head back through the Jeep’s open side. “It sure does, Trinity. And it smells like someone threw up. You think we should have brought something to drink?”
Wolfe kept water bottles stashed behind the back seat, but I didn’t offer up this information. Gilead’s hum grated on my nerves.
I kept my squint on the CTDC’s front doors. “How come you wanted Wolfe to drive us here?”
The humming stopped. “Mom and Grandpa are missing. It’s not just Uncle Saul, who might have forgotten where we were or wandered off again. Knowing the whole family is gone changes our priorities. We’ve got to find them, even if that means using a Heathen to help us track them down.” He continued his tune.
His words made sense...but why was he acting happy?
I clamped my lips together, folded my arms, and willed a figure to step through the door.
“Hey Trinity—isn’t that your dad over there? Between the pine trunks?”
“My dad? Really, Micah? I don’t see anyone.”
I slid over the seatback, shoving under Gilead’s armpit. “Where, Micah?”
“You know, on the other side of the cars. Next to the pines. You don’t see him? Keep looking...huh...I thought. Oh well. Never mind.”
My eyes narrowed. No human was there. Why had Micah lied?
I swiveled around in time to catch the glint of the CTDC door closing and a gray pantleg disappearing inside. I returned to my chair and readopted my fixed squint.
Micah spoke over my brother’s wordless singing. “Even boiled pond water would taste all right about now.”
~*~
My brother eased his bulk onto the pavement next to the bin.
My eyes burned from staring at the doors that reflected the setting sun. “Are you going in after Wolfe?”
He stooped to gather a palmful of glass shards. “’Course not. We’re hungry and thirsty. Micah and I’ll track down something edible. You stay inside this vehicle. Promise me.”
Micah bobbed his head and bounced on his heels like his sister used to when excited. Then he bounded after my brother and slipped behind the veil of pine trunks.
I refocused on the CTDC exit.
Trinity leaned forward. Her shudder shook my chairback. “This is an ugly spot, Dove. Even if a person removed the building, the pavement, and the garbage and tried to replant nature, nothing would grow. It’s too—what are you doing?”
“I’m going to find out what happened.”
“Find out what happened to our moms? Or to him.”
I paused in swapping my homemade shirt for the skimpy, cream-colored garment Rebecca had left behind in the glove box. “Him? You mean Wolfe? Our friend who has allowed himself to be beaten and bruised by Gilead in order to help us? The person who delivered food to us every single day we stayed in Sisters? Who—”
“OK, I’m being a jerk. I’ve been around Gil too much.”
“Do you care, Trinity, that Wolfe’s stuck inside?”
“I care.”
“Do you?”
“Yes!”
“Good. Check behind the backseat.”
With a gasp, she surfaced with a water bottle in each hand.
I waved off the one she thrust at me. My thirst had been jolted away by my hammering heart.
I would go inside the CTDC, even though the occupants would recognize me on sight because this factory-made shirt wouldn’t be enough to convince them I wasn’t the jailbird who’d lived inside a cell last spring. I would never be able to disguise myself enough. Unless...
I gripped my cousin’s raised arm. “Trinity? I need your gift. Turn me into a Heathen.”
9
I clutched the Jeep’s side mirror, whose reflective surface distracted me from finishing my prayer. My blonde hair waved in willow-leaf curls and framed a face that wasn’t mine. This couldn’t be me.
I brought my face closer. My eyes stared out from the huge, dark smudges, like Diamond wore around her violet eyes. Only my gray irises were still mine. And my scowl.
I smiled—and winced—practicing what I would do when I questioned the guards inside about a missing teenager. Even though it hurt my cheeks and lips that stung from Trinity’s brutal pinches to make them pink.
“Hurry,” Trinity whispered. “Micah and Gil will be back any minute, and then you won’t be able to do this.”
I released the mirror and shouldered my heavy pack. I was stupid to wear the recognizable bag, but it�
�d been with me through so many nail-biting moments of my life. I couldn’t not bring it now.
I tried to hurry toward the building, swinging my stiff, tattooed arms like a normal, godless girl, but then I tripped and almost face-planted. Trinity had done too good of a job tightening my pantlegs with borrowed metal car clips. The material gripped my legs in a stranglehold, the way the godless women wore their pants.
“Don’t rip them, Dove. And smile!”
At the hissed command, I glued on the fake grin that made me groan. A man exiting the building eyed me a second too long. My reflection glinted in the glass behind him. Too many teeth showing.
I readjusted my lips, stepped through the doors, and stopped. My homemade soles pressed the shiny white squares underfoot. Go ahead, Dove. Walk. Move forward and ask.
My feet refused to march toward the lone woman inside behind the desk. I wasn’t prepared. My heart hammered against my ribs while an icy sweat broke over me.
I hadn’t prayed—hadn’t consulted with God about coming inside to ask. Should I hurry back to Trinity and pray? Better yet, I could run into the woods and keeping going until I reached home.
The woman’s lazy voice broke through my dizzying panic. “Yes?”
I tugged, but my shoes adhered to the threshold.
“Yes, miss?” The familiar woman in the uniform shuffled papers on her desk. She hadn’t looked up. If only she would never look up.
My hands fisted and unfisted. I ripped my unwilling soles off the tiles and approached the desk. “A boy...I mean a man...somebody came in here a long time ago. Today, so not that long ago. He didn’t come out. Why? I want to know.”
The bear-hipped woman looked up. The black eyes above her snub nose widened and then narrowed.
“His name?”
I moistened my bruised, upturned lips. “Wolfegang.”
“His last name?”
Sky alive! His last name was Pickett, the same one I’d borrowed when I’d been arrested last spring. The moment I said his full name, she’d remember and know who I was. I continued to smile into the unsmiling face.
