by Will Hill
“Not guilty,” she says, in a voice like breaking ice.
“We found your journal,” says Father John. He turns to Lonestar, who holds up a leather-bound book I’ve never seen before. “You admit this belongs to you?”
My mom gives the tiniest nod of her head.
“Excellent,” says Father John. “It describes, in great detail, your deviation from the True Path. I will not read the passages aloud, as to do so would be to carry out the work of The Serpent, but it is safe to say they constitute a grotesque treachery against The Almighty Lord. Your own handwriting condemns you, clearly and utterly, so I will give you one more chance to admit your guilt. What do you say?”
My mom narrows her eyes. “You misunderstand,” she says. “I cannot be guilty of Apostasy, because it’s impossible to abandon a Faith you never had.”
Bella gasps with shock, and Agavé puts a comforting hand on her knee.
“So you admit that you are False?” asks Father John.
“I have no Faith in you,” says my mom. “I never have, not for a single moment. I’ll gladly admit that.”
The Prophet smiles. “And so we reach the truth at last,” he says. “Perhaps—”
“Father Patrick was a fool,” growls my mom. “A harmless dreamer who tried to serve his God the best way he knew how. But you? You’re a snake-oil salesman. A vulture, preying on the weak and the desperate. You’re nothing.”
I gasp with shock. I can’t help it, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak to Father John like that, not even the Heretics who left during The Purge.
The Prophet’s smile disappears. “Centurion?” he says.
Angel frowns and glances at me. “Perhaps Moonbeam ought to—”
“Do as I command, Centurion.”
“Yes, Father,” says Angel, then steps forward and slams his hand across my mom’s face. It’s a slap rather than a punch, thank The Lord, but it still knocks her flat. Her head bounces off the floor and I hear myself scream and I try to run to her, but Horizon’s fingers dig painfully into my shoulders and my mom’s eyes meet mine and the message in them is exactly the same one that was whispered in my ear.
Don’t make it worse.
“Pick her up,” says Father John.
Angel does as he’s told. One side of my mom’s face is bright white and there’s a smear of blood at the corner of her mouth and across her cheek and I’m suddenly full of the purest hate I’ve ever felt, hot and cold and sharp enough to slit Angel’s throat and hack The Prophet’s smiling face to bloody ribbons. My body is literally trembling with it, even as the word Heresy fills my head.
“On the charge of Apostasy I find you guilty,” says Father John. “Let us move onto the second charge, that of Corruption of a True Member of The Lord’s Legion. How do you plead?”
My mom spits a thick wad of blood on the floor, and doesn’t say a word. I stare at her, and my sudden rush of hatred gives way to fear, bright and shining.
I had no idea she kept a journal, let alone one that was full of Heresy and Apostasy, and I can’t believe what I just heard her say to Father John. I can’t believe it. A good number of Legionnaires have strayed from the True Path, and it’s always sad when it happens because we know their souls are forfeit once they pass through the Front Gate and into the Outside.
My mom though? That’s ridiculous. Ridiculous.
She’s been a member of The Lord’s Legion for thirteen years, and after my dad died and left her alone with me, when nobody could have blamed her if her Faith had been shaken, she stayed. She stayed, and not only raised me on the True Path but also actively encouraged Father John to choose me as one of his Future Wives, committing us both as deeply to the Legion as it’s possible to be. Now she’s saying that not only does she not believe, but that she has never believed?
It makes no sense.
No sense at all.
“Let us review the evidence that supports this charge,” says Father John. “I will not have it said by anyone that The Lord’s Justice is not thorough, or that those accused are not treated fairly. This journal – your journal – describes repeated attempts to persuade Shanti, a known Servant Of The Serpent, to take you and your daughter with him after he abandoned the True Path and left The Lord’s Legion. It describes how you explored the possibility of breaking into the Big House, stealing the emergency telephone, and contacting the Government with the express intention of inventing lies about our Family and inviting them to make an attack on our home. Finally, it describes how you considered assaulting Brother Amos before his weekly supply run and fleeing in our communal vehicle, presumably with Moonbeam as your unwilling captive. So I ask you again: on the charge of Corruption of a True Member of The Lord’s Legion, how do you plead?”
I stare at my mom, my head spinning.
She wanted to leave? She wanted us both to leave? Why?
She spits blood again. “Go to Hell,” she says.
Father John smiles at her. “That is your fate, not mine,” he says. “It gives me no pleasure to find you guilty of this second charge. In light of the seriousness of your crimes, of the scale of your treachery against The Lord, I see no other option than to Banish you from the Holy Church of The Lord’s Legion, for all eternity. The Lord is Good.”
“The Lord is Good,” repeat the Centurions and the wives of The Prophet. My mom doesn’t say the words, and – for the first time in my life – neither do I.
“You may take thirty minutes to gather your personal belongings,” says Father John. “When that time has passed, Amos will drive you to Town and we will be rid of your Heresy. You will not speak to, or in any other way communicate with, your former Brothers and Sisters before you leave. Is that clear? You are no longer welcome here.”
“If you think I’m going anywhere without my daughter,” says my mom, “then you’re even crazier than I thought.”
What?
Bella gasps again.
“Father,” I say, my voice trembling. “What is—”
The Prophet smiles. “Brother Horizon,” he says. “Take Moonbeam outside and wait there with her. The rest of you Centurions are with me. Everyone else go upstairs.”
Bella and Agavé and Star scuttle away up the stairs without a backward glance. My mom meets my eyes, and though they’re still full of anger, I see something that makes my head swim and my stomach churn.
Uncertainty. Fear.
I see it rise onto her blood-smeared face, and I suddenly understand something.
She was ready for this. She knew it was coming. But something has gone wrong.
“Come on,” says Horizon, and he turns me towards the front door of the house. I try to push back against him, but I might as well try to resist the rotation of the Earth. My mom turns and meets my gaze as he walks me away from her, and I start to cry. Part of me is furious with myself for being so weak, but I can’t help it. I can’t.
“Mom!” I shout. “Tell him you didn’t do it, Mom! You have to tell him!”
Her face crumples, and she looks away from me.
“Mom!” I shriek, as Horizon opens the door and bundles me through it. “Father, please! Please don’t! Mom!”
The door slams shut. Horizon wrestles me onto one of the benches that run along the back of the porch. I’m shrieking and crying and punching and kicking him but he doesn’t even seem to notice – he just holds me tightly in his arms, and whispers softly into my ear.
“Hush now,” he says. “Hush, girl. There’s nothing to be done. The Lord does not make mistakes, and you know that’s the truth. The Lord is Good.”
I drift out of myself. I know that sounds weird, but it’s the only way I can describe it. I’m still sitting on the bench with Horizon’s huge arms holding me in place, but I’m also somewhere else at the same time. I’m running through the desert at the edge of The Base, the wind blowing my hair out behind me, and I’m floating through a perfect blue sky, and everything is still and everything is quiet, and I’m lying in
my bed in my room and it’s dark and everything is safe and nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing bad is going to happen ever.
My tears have dried up and Horizon has loosened his grip on me when the door of the Big House opens. Angel walks through it, leading my mom by the arm, and I’m about to shout her name when she looks at me and the word catches in my throat.
She doesn’t look like the same woman I saw standing in front of Father John, admitting Heresy and denying her Faith; she looks like she’s been shrunk since then, like she has drawn in on herself. Her eyes are sunken and brimming with tears, and she can’t look at me, not properly. Her shoulders are sagging, and it looks like Angel’s hand is the only thing keeping her upright.
“Mom?” It comes out like a croak. “What’s happening, Mom?”
Her face twists into something horrible, and it looks like she’s going to say something, although part of me doesn’t want to hear it. But then Angel shoves her down the porch steps and drags her away across the yard towards Building Nine and all I feel is cold, like my spine has been replaced with ice cubes.
What happened in there? What did they do to her?
“Bring Moonbeam to me, Horizon,” shouts Father John from inside the house. “I would speak with her.”
“Can you walk in on your own?” asks Horizon, his voice low. “Or do you need me to carry you? It’s okay if you do.”
I stand up, because I don’t want his help, don’t want him to touch me, but my legs give way beneath me and he scoops me up before I fall. He puts an arm around me and leads me gently back through the door and into the Big House. Father John is still sat in his chair with Bear and Lonestar next to him, and Bella and Agavé and Star are standing off to one side, near the staircase. He must have told them to come back down, because they wouldn’t have dared without permission. The Prophet smiles at me as Horizon helps me into the room.
“I’m sorry you had to see this, Moonbeam,” he says. “I truly am. It is a hard thing when someone falls from the True Path, a hard thing for all of us. It means we have failed, myself included. If your mother had come to me when she first felt The Serpent’s poison beginning to spread through her, and I wish with all my heart that she had, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to help her. I would have cast out The Serpent and fought to my last breath for her eternal soul, as I would for any of my Brothers and Sisters, and as I know any of them would do for me. But that time has passed, although it breaks my heart to say so. We all know that Heretics cannot be tolerated, not once they have actively begun The Serpent’s work. I know you understand that, Moonbeam, because you’re a clever girl. A good girl.”
I stand in the middle of the room. Horizon is behind me, close enough that he can grab me if I fall, but I’m barely aware of his presence, because I’m staring at Father John and my head is spinning. Everything he’s saying makes sense, everything he’s saying is True, but it isn’t Father Patrick or some other Heretic he’s talking about.
It’s my mom.
He narrows his eyes. “You are a good girl, aren’t you?”
I think so.
I nod my head.
“Then tell me you understand why this has to be done.”
“I understand,” I say, my voice little more than a whisper.
Father John smiles. “I never doubted it,” he says. “Not for a moment. Heretics are insidious creatures, low things that corrupt and spoil. The only solution is to be rid of them, before the damage they do gets too great to repair. They are unworthy of the favour of The Lord. They are unworthy of love.”
I stare into his eyes. It feels like he wants me to say something, but I don’t know what it is and even if I did I don’t know if I could form the words.
“Don’t you agree, Moonbeam?” he asks.
I nod.
“Of course you do,” he says. “So say it.”
Tears rise into my eyes. “Say what, Father?” I whisper.
He smiles. “Say that you don’t love your mother,” he says. “Say it now, with The Lord as your witness. Show me that your Faith is True.”
No. Please, no.
The tears spill down my cheeks. I look around at Horizon, hoping to see something there that tells me I don’t have to do this, that tells me I’m not as alone as I feel, but he meets my eyes and all I see on his face is duty.
“Moonbeam,” says Father John, his voice suddenly sharp. “Look at me.”
I drag my gaze away from Horizon’s blank face and look at The Prophet.
“This is hard for you,” he says. “I understand that, and you have my sympathies. But if you will not renounce Heresy, here and now, then The Lord will surely wonder why.”
“I renounce Heresy,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says. “And your mother?”
“Please, Father,” I say my voice a barely audible croak. “Please don’t make me say it. Please.”
He narrows his eyes. “Say it.”
“Please…”
“Say it now, Moonbeam.”
“Father…”
Father John leaps to his feet. “SAY IT!” he roars, his face crimson with fury. “SAY IT NOW OR YOU WILL SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE INSIDE A BOX! SAY IT! SAY IT!”
My head spins and grey is flickering at the edges of my vision and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Horizon steps up closer behind me, his hands ready to catch me if I fall. I focus on Father John’s face, on the hatred and cruelty I see there, and I shut my eyes.
“I don’t love her,” I whisper.
“Who?” he asks. “Who don’t you love?”
“My mother,” I say. The word comes out like a sob. “I don’t love my mother.”
Horizon squeezes my shoulder. I lower my head and start to cry, my chest heaving up and down, my eyes squeezed shut. Then hands touch my face and slide around my waist, and I hear Bella’s voice beside my ear. “Don’t cry,” she says. “It’s all right, Moonbeam. It’s for the best. The Lord is Good.”
I open my eyes. Bella and Agavé are kneeling next to me, their faces full of concern. I look at them, and it’s like I don’t know them. It feels like I’ve never met them before in my life. Like they’re strangers.
“She may cry if she wishes,” says Father John. He is back in his chair beneath the window with a gentle smile on his face, the anger that overcame him gone as suddenly as it arrived. “Her mother has been proven False, and that would be upsetting to any child, no matter how strong their Faith. You may cry, Moonbeam, and for a day and a night you may grieve your mother’s Heresy.”
I nod. “Thank you, Father,” I say, the words like acid in my mouth.
His smile widens. “And after that time, you will never speak of her again,” he says. “You will not even think about her. Is that clear?”
His words are like a punch to the gut. My stomach churns and spins, but I shudder through a wave of nausea and manage a tiny nod.
“It’s clear, Father,” I whisper. “I understand.”
He nods. “I never doubted it,” he says. “You will stay here until it is time for the Heretic to be cast out. The Lord is Good.”
“The Lord is Good,” I say, as the voice in the back of my head tells me something very, very different.
I sit on the floor of the Big House on my own as the thirty minutes my mother was given to pack up her life pass in the blink of an eye.
Father John goes up to his study, claiming he needs to ask The Lord to give our Family the strength to get through this difficult time, but the three Centurions and Bella and Agavé and Star all stay in the living room with me. None of them say anything, and they make an effort not to stare at me, but I can feel them watching. Horizon stays near the door, I guess to make sure I don’t bolt outside and beg my mom to take me with her – although it would make absolutely no difference if I did, because I would never be allowed into the truck with her and Amos. I could stand in the yard and scream and shout and plead for somebody to help me, but nobody would.
I know that withou
t a shadow of doubt.
So I sit on the floor and try not to think about what’s happening. I know it’s cowardly, that members of The Lord’s Legion are supposed to face adversity and stand up and be True, but I don’t care about any of that right now. I really don’t.
I can’t imagine my mom not being here. It doesn’t make any sense – it feels like it can’t actually be real, let alone something that’s going to happen in a matter of minutes. I can’t bear to think of her Outside, amongst the Heretics and the Governments and the Servants Of The Serpent. I don’t want her to go and I can’t bear the thought of her leaving me here but at the same time I feel guiltier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life because I don’t want to go with her. I don’t want to leave my home and my Family and go out into the darkness.
I want her to stay. I want everything to stay like it is.
I want Father John to change his mind. I want him to give her another chance, even if it’s her last one, even if they put her in a box for a month to atone for her Heresy.
But I know he won’t.
The Lord does not make mistakes.
Emotions are swirling out of control inside me, as chaotic as dust in a storm. I stare at the floor and I refuse to look at Horizon or Bella or any of the others and I can’t stop crying, not completely, but I’m not just upset. I’m shocked by what my mom has done, but I’m absolutely furious with her for being stupid enough to get caught.
I’m sure they would never admit it, but every member of The Lord’s Legion, with the possible exception of Father John, has moments of weakness and doubt, when their thoughts betray them and they struggle to keep themselves on the True Path. I know they do, because all human beings are fallible, just as Father John teaches. But writing those thoughts down, filling an actual physical book with your plans to break the rules and commit Heresy, is suicidal. She didn’t even beg for forgiveness when it was clear that she had been found out. She admitted her crimes like she was proud of them, then cursed Father John and denied her Faith.
Why? Why would she say that? Even if it’s the truth, why would she say it?
My head is pounding.
