Sweat flew from his hair with each impact, creating a mist-like halo around his head. Droplets ran down his arms in rivulets, occasionally flying free as he threw punches with rapid succession, pummeling the bag.
‘Something’s not right,’ he thought, as his foot flashed out again, sending the bag sideways. He spun on his heel and sent the blade of his other foot into the bag, high upon it, where an average-sized man’s neck would be. As the foot came down, he slid sideways, lowering his torso as he sent two quick blows to the midsection of the bag before sending a roundhouse kick to the upper portion of the bag once more.
Finally feeling the exertion catch up to him, he stopped, letting his arms fall to his side as he took deep breaths, taking big gulps of air.
“Don’t go too hard, Evan,” Judith chided him from her spot underneath the bleachers, where she was able to watch as he worked over the heavy bag that hung from the nearby Shumard Oak tree. “It’s really hot out here today. Here,” she said, holding out a bottle of water, “come get some water.”
Evan looked at her and smiled. ‘So sweet....so beautiful…’ he thought, smiling. ‘So perfect.’
Control yourself. Remember your vows.
Looking down towards the ground, his eyes momentarily focused on his dust-covered shoes as he thought. Everything he’d ever wanted was right there in the form of this sweet, beautiful, kind-hearted, caring, intelligent young woman, but he couldn’t even consider doing anything about it.
It wasn’t to be.
She belonged to Jeremiah.
‘You can’t be with her, Evan,’ he reminded himself.
Never again.
Spinning once more, he drove the heel of his foot into the bag, pushing up and backwards, rocking it hard. Turning away, he walked slowly to where Judith waited. Smiling as he approached, he asked, “Are you sure you want to be out here, in the heat?”
“It’s fine,” she said, smiling in return, showing those pearly white, perfectly straight teeth that simply dazzled. “I’m in the shade, so it’s not too bad,” she replied, “Plus,” she said, meeting his gaze, her eyes taking on a mischievous look, “it allows me to do what I really enjoy.”
Feeling his cheeks flush with color, Evan asked, “And what’s that?”
She smiled. “Get out of the residence hall. It’s soooo boring there…”
Evan bit his lip and exhaled loudly through his nostrils, shaking his head in embarrassment.
Throwing the towel at him, Judith laughed, her voice light and soft, the sound almost music to his ears.
“Just kidding, silly! You know I like to spend time with you.”
Evan closed his eyes and smiled. When he opened them and looked at her, he saw her staring at him, her face no longer showing signs of joking. It showed something much more, something serious.
“I always have,” she finished. Suddenly, a single tear formed at the edge of her left eye, and she turned away.
“Oh, Judith,” he said, stepping forward. “Here,” he began, extending the towel before realizing it was now damp with his sweat. “Oh. Wait.” He looked at his bare chest, then at the metal support beams of the bleachers, where his shirt hung. As usual, he’d taken it off before his workout, seeing no need to have it get soaked with his perspiration. Snatching it, he thrust it forward. “Here.”
Accepting the shirt, Judith looked at him and smiled weakly. “It’s okay,” she said softly. Taking a deep breath, she went on. “I just need to keep my emotions under control. This is the way it has to be, right?” Her eyes locked onto his, daring him to give the answer she needed to hear.
Evan stared back at her as he tried to figure what that answer was. They knew their commitments. They believed in Jeremiah and everything he stood for. This was the way it had to be, wasn’t it?
“Right,” he said, finally.
Judith looked away quickly, not giving him the opportunity to see her reaction to his response. After a moment, she brought her shirt up to her nose and inhaled, taking in his scent. She paused, seeming to savor it, then passed it back. “You should put this back on.”
Evan accepted it and did as she suggested. Looking back at her, he said, “Do you want to get going? Are you tired?”
“I’m fine, you big oaf,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Oh, okay,” he replied, embarrassed. “So, uh, can I get you anything?”
Judith turned and looked at him again, staring into his eyes knowingly. She brought her hand up and rubbed her swollen stomach with her hand. “No, I’m okay,” she replied. “I feel pretty good, actually.”
“Okay…”
“Will you sit with me for a bit? Do you have time?”
“Yes!” He replied, before looking at his watch to make sure he hadn’t lied. He hadn’t. “I have about thirty minutes before I need to head back and get cleaned up for Bible study.”
“Great!” she said, smiling. Moving over a bit, she made room on the bench he’d carried over and placed underneath the bleachers for her. Patting the bench next to her, she motioned for him to join her.
He used the towel to wipe his brow once more, then hung it on one of the support beams before joining her on the bench. The air underneath the bleachers was surprisingly cool, and when he glanced upward, he saw the reason why: she’d clipped a thin, dark-colored cotton sarong to the underside of the bleachers overhead, creating a canopy that blocked out any stray beams of sunlight.
As soon as he sat down, the young woman scooted closer to him and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, making him glad that he’d put back on his t-shirt. His slick and probably slightly salty skin would not have made a good place for her to rest her head.
Sitting there, Evan closed his eyes and allowed his nose to breathe in the wonderful, fragrant scent of her freshly washed hair. The shampoo and/or conditioner (he didn’t know which one) had a lavender smell, and as he allowed the scent to be absorbed by his senses, he felt a sense of calm come over him.
“What’s on your mind, Evan?”
“Hunh?”
“Today, when you were hitting the bag, I sensed an anger in you that I haven’t seen before. Something’s bothering you.”
“I…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. Unlike the usual conflicted feeling he usually felt in her presence, this had nothing to do with her.
Just say it. You can trust her.
“It’s just that...the stuff we found in the Mansion, when the Colonel was out front with the rest of you…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s like, it wasn’t very well hidden.”
“So? The guy’s a creep.”
“Yeah, but if he’d gone through so much effort to kidnap those kids, and then been so good at hiding them from us during all of our searches, how could the evidence be so easy to find?”
Judith sat up slightly, moving her head away from his shoulder. She looked at him. “What are you saying?”
Evan took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he began, shaking his head, “but at one point I watched Donald, and I swear he went right to the place where he found the girl’s hairband. The one with the butterfly?”
“Wait, so he knew where to look?”
“I - ” he began, before stopping himself. The suggestion of such, and everything it brought with it, was a huge step. If true, it would literally shatter everything they knew about Jeremiah and challenge everything they believed in. “I don’t know.”
“Evan…” Judith said, chiding him.
Evan sighed. She’d always been able to see through him. “I’m pretty sure he did.”
“Oh my God....” Judith cried.
“Keep your voice down!” he urged, rising up in his seat to look around. The last thing they needed was for someone to hear their conversation.
“Sorry,” she whispered, “but that means…”
Evan nodded. “Donald, and maybe Jeremiah, had something to do with the kidnappings.”
Judith looked away, her face sl
owly shifting to one of sadness. Lines creased her forehead and she looked as if she would begin to cry.
“Easy,” Evan said, rubbing her back. “I’m not totally sure about what I saw, so I don’t know for sure that’s the case.”
“I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
Leaning back towards him, she once again rested her head on his shoulder. Though he desperately wanted to lift his arm up and put it around her shoulders, he refrained from doing so. It would be too much.
The two of them sat there in silence for several minutes before Judith spoke again. “I…” she began, before trailing off.
“What is it?” he asked, encouraging her to tell him her thoughts.
“I feel like it’s true,” she replied. “I know you don’t know for sure, but ever since we came here, things have been...different. It’s like he’s been focused on increasing the size of the family more than the teachings of the Lord. It’s been almost an obsession.”
“I know.”
“And he seems completely absorbed by the love and adoration he receives from the crowd when he speaks. It’s not about sharing the word of God. It’s about the applause he receives, you know? He seems to need the approval.”
Evan nodded, saying nothing.
Bringing her hands up, she gripped his upper arm, and he felt her nails press into his flesh.
“Evan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m scared.”
He sighed. “Me, too.”
“Not just for me,” she added. “But for our baby.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oklahoma City Protective Zone, Oklahoma
Day 6
Sitting alone in the cell, Sam Walters felt the disapproving gazes of the men in the cell next to his. Unlike him, those men were being held for misdemeanors. Two had overindulged on alcohol and made a scene at the dining facility. Another pair had been arrested by the M.P.s for fighting over a woman. A fifth man had been brought in for stealing a pair of a woman’s underwear (a subsequent search of the man’s quarters had revealed additional pairs of different sizes, indicating he’d been collecting them from multiple unsuspecting women).
But to a man, they’d each jump at the opportunity to get their hands on Walters.
It was no secret that he’d been arrested for kidnapping children, and when it came to crime, few things were worse than that.
And few would believe that he was innocent, even though he was. He had no idea where the items that had been recovered from his office had come from or how they’d gotten there. Heck, he hadn’t even known children were missing until that day!
How could this have happened? Everything had been going so well. He had the doctors. He had the girl. He had the lab they needed to develop the vaccine. Within a week, he’d have a vaccine ready for distribution, and he’d be able to charge whatever price he wanted for it.
It was so close.
The sound of a heavy door slamming caught his attention. He looked towards the sound of footsteps approaching and watched as Sergeant Major Saleh, the Master-at-Arms, led Jeremiah and two of the massive men that seemed to accompany him everywhere down the hallway. Pausing in front of the neighboring cell, Jeremiah looked in, studying the faces of the men there for a long moment without saying anything. Under his gaze, the men shifted around nervously like children in front of a disapproving parent.
After nearly a minute, Jeremiah took a breath and exhaled. “Well, now, do you all think you’ve learned your lesson?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” the men answered in one form or another, nodding in agreement.
“Good,” he replied, nodding as well. Looking at the Master-at-Arms, he said, “Sergeant Major, please release these men and have them sign the agreements I brought. I’m confident they’ll make better decisions in the future, isn’t that right, men?”
“Yes, sir!” they answered confidently.
“Will do, Sir,” the thickly muscled black man replied, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a set of keys.
As Walters watched the Sergeant Major unlock the door and usher the men out of the cell, he couldn’t help but think about the way the man had replied to Jeremiah. Not ‘Father,’ not ‘Jeremiah,’ but ‘Sir.’
Was the man in charge somehow?
Had that been his plan all along?
Jeremiah smiled and nodded at each man as they passed, saying, “Don’t let me down.”
The last man to leave the cell was the underwear snatcher. As he tried to move past Jeremiah, the preacher’s hand came up and took hold of his arm, stopping him.
Leaning forward, the preacher spoke into the man’s ear for a few seconds. When he finished, the man staggered back, his mouth falling open in shock as the color drained from his face.
“How....but…”
“Don’t let me down, Ricky,” Jeremiah said, staring at the man.
Ricky sidestepped away, continuing to stare at him until he was clear of the man’s reach. When he was, he turned and hurried down the hallway and through the door.
Jeremiah watched him leave, smiling in amusement as he did, then turned his attention towards Walters. Standing there, his eyes fixed on Sam, he spoke to the men with him. “Jeff, Tim, please wait for me in the lobby. I need to speak with Colonel Walters alone.”
The two men glanced at Walters, then back at the preacher. Without saying a word, they nodded and left, their heavy footsteps slowly fading before ceasing as the door closed behind them.
As silence descended upon the cellblock area, Jeremiah stepped forward and positioned himself in front of Sam’s cell, placing his feet shoulder width apart and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Like he’d done to the men in the adjoining cell, he stared at Walters for a long while before speaking, but whereas his stare had intimidated the other men, it only served to anger Sam.
“Well, Sam, what are we going to do about this?” he finally asked.
Using years of experience at controlling his emotions, Walters remained impassive as he stood up from the bench and strode confidently to the front of the cell until he was directly in front of Jeremiah.
“You can let me the hell out of here,” he began, ignoring how the man winced when he uttered the word ‘hell.’ “You know I had nothing to do with the disappearance of those children.”
Jeremiah said nothing for nearly a full minute as he stared down at Sam, reminding him once again how much taller he was. Finally, he exhaled and said, “Okay. Let’s start with that.”
He shook his head, then began to pace back and forth in front of the cell. “You know, it doesn’t look good, Sam. Not at all. What Donald, Jeff, Evan, and Tim found in your office is...pretty damning.” He paused to look at Walters. “People want blood.”
“Someone put those things there!”
Jeremiah tilted his head to the side a bit as he looked at him, skepticism showing on his face. “That’s the type of defense anyone would offer in your situation, Sam.”
“But it’s true!”
Jeremiah turned and began pacing once more. “How many people have access to your office, Sam?”
Walters felt his throat dry up as he realized where things were headed. “Um, just myself.”
A second later, he found a lifeline. “And Sergeant Ferrell! He probably did this!”
Jeremiah shook his head as he continued to pace back and forth. “No, Sam. Sergeant Ferrell has already had his personal effects searched, as well as his quarters. Not only did we not find evidence to indicate that he had anything to do with the disappearance of the children, we also did not find any keys for any room in the Governor’s Mansion.”
Walters's mind began to race. His men had taken Ferrell to the same secret location that they’d taken Captain Fitzgerald and his family to. Had it been discovered? Had those being held there revealed what he and his men had done?
“But... how…
” he stammered.
Jeremiah stopped in front of him, still looking down as his body faced the end of the hallway to Walters’s right. Standing at the front of his cell, mere inches from the bars he held with his hands, Walters could smell the detergent the man’s clothes had been washed with. He watched as the tall man continued to stare at the floor, deep in thought. As Walters watched, a smile came over the man’s face, slowly spreading, widening until it threatened to split his face in two. Taking a deep breath, Jeremiah brought his head up, still facing the end of the hallway.
Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed the front of Walters’s shirt through the bars of the cell. Using shocking strength he yanked the Colonel forward, pulling him off his feet and slamming his head into the metal bars.
Wham!
Stars exploded inside his head as Walters felt the grip ease just enough for his feet to touch the ground once more. Struggling to stay upright, he dizzily tried to grasp the arm that held his shirt.
“Stop…”
Wham!
Walters’ head hit the bars once more. His eyes fluttered as the room began to spin. He brought his hands up again, but this time only reached for the bars in an effort to steady himself. As he took hold of the painted metal, the hand that held his shirt relaxed, then moved around to cradle the back of his head.
“No…” he moaned.
“Shhhh…” Jeremiah’s voice said quietly. “You’re okay.”
“I...my head...”
“Shhhh...just listen. I have a question for you.” Jeremiah said, moving closer to the cell. “Are you listening?”
“Unhhh…” Walters replied, nodding.
Grinning, Jeremiah pulled Walters’s head closer until it was near the bars of the cell. He leaned forward so that his mouth was near Walters’s left ear.
“Did you really think you could trust someone named Judas?”
‘Oh my God!’ Walters thought in a split second.
Surviving Rage | Book 5 Page 43