by Valerie Puri
“Hi Trav,” she said, with forced optimism.
“Jennie, do you know what’s going on? Why have they called us all here?” He asked.
“I wish I knew,” Jennie answered, as her strained smile melted away. “Hush, now. People are starting to take their seats. We can talk later.”
Travis heard Belle ask Jennie quietly, “How much do you think he heard? Can we trust him with this?”
Travis whispered into his sister’s ear, “What were you two talking about?”
“Not here, not now. Later…” was all she said, looking forward to the podium.
The last of the people had entered the room and were now taking their seats, filling in the empty spaces around Travis, Jennie, and Belle. Elder Victor stood at the center of the podium, his face expressionless, and raised his hands to call for silence. A hush fell over the crowd as they all watched him expectantly. Travis could sense the others around him were just as apprehensive as he was.
“My fellow townspeople,” Victor began, “you have all been called here today to join us for an emergency Commune Council. By the Founders’ decree of emergency Council proceedings, we will forgo formal opening statements and procedures.
“I regret to inform you that one of our fellow Commune members, Mrs. Eleanor Townsend, has disappeared.” A concerned murmur spread through the room. “We have testimony from Advisor Sash,” Victor gestured to the man with no hair behind him, “that she was last seen at lunchtime walking towards the northern wall. As many of you know, this is also where her husband James was last seen before his disappearance a month ago. We can only assume that the grief of her husband’s loss led Eleanor to search for him. Advisor Sash informed me he saw her leave the Commune through the small access gate. She was then accosted by a lemeron.”
A woman in the crowd shrieked at the mere mention of a lemeron. The room began to buzz with chatter about the terrible news. Travis felt his face flush, and he began to tremble. It was shocking to learn Mrs. Townsend had suffered the same fate as his mother.
Victor waited for the room to fall quiet and he then continued. “Your Elders, Marlene and I, are concerned with the safety of our people. We ask that no one venture to the wall and by no means should anyone leave the safety of the Commune and enter the forest.”
Travis touched his face and his fingers came away wet. He wiped his tear-soaked face with his sweater sleeve and turned to look at Jennie. He saw that she was shaking with the news. He felt sad for her, as Mrs. Townsend had been her favorite teacher in school. He studied his sister’s face and saw her expression was not one of sadness or fear, but of anger. He had never seen his sister’s face so cold and hard before.
Jennie looked furious; her piercing stare did not stray from the podium. Travis tried to follow her line of sight. As he attempted to decipher who Jennie was staring at so fiercely, something caught his eye which he didn’t expect. Instead of looking concerned, as one might expect, Elder Marlene wore an expression of hatred and disgust. Marlene was boring a hole through the back of Victor’s head with her eyes. Travis knew something was off. His fear dissolved into concern for both himself and Jennie.
10
Jennie stormed out of the Sanctuary and down the steps with Travis and Belle on her heels. She had been a fool to believe the Elders would be honest with them. She knew Mrs. Townsend didn’t just wander off outside the wall. Just before she disappeared, Mrs. Townsend was confronted in her classroom by none other than Jacob Sash, the supposed witness to her disappearance.
In the town square, Jennie spun around on her heel to face Belle and her brother. “We have been lied to. We need to go where we can talk safely. Follow me.”
She turned and quickly walked through an alley by the school. She was being cautious by not taking her usual route in case someone might be following. After all, Jennie and Belle were the last ones to see Mrs. Townsend before Sash appeared in her classroom. He was a threat to them now. He might suspect that they wouldn’t believe the so-called “testimony” given at the Commune Council.
The three of them continued to walk through hidden alleyways and narrow passages between buildings, careful to avoid the main paths. From the corner of her eye she saw three tall men standing like watchmen but when she looked in their direction, she realized they were just shirts hung on a line in a backyard to dry. She heard the creaking of a door opening in the narrow alley behind them and looked over her shoulder, still hurrying forward. The creaking door wasn’t a door at all; only a shutter swinging freely in the wind on its rusty hinges.
Jennie’s heart raced; she was jumpy and paranoid. She wasn’t even sure if anyone even was following them but couldn’t take that chance. They had to get the answers they needed, and the key to this was resting safely in the bag slung across her shoulder. She hurried through the apple orchard, weaving her way through the trees. When glancing back, she was relieved to see only Belle and Travis behind her.
They emerged from the apple trees and rushed down the sloping hill towards the brown, wooden barn. From the outside, it looked simple with its four walls and a pitched roof. There were no outwardly facing windows on the first floor, only two large doors on either end of the long building. The only windows to speak of were on the second floor above the two doors. They were giant square holes cut in the side of the building used to pull the hay and grain into the loft using the pulley hanging outside.
Jennie ran to the barn door and opened it just enough for the three of them to squeeze through and closed it promptly behind them, securing the latch from the inside. As she quickly walked the length of the barn, she checked each stall to ensure they were alone with the horses. She locked the door at the far end of the barn before walking back to Belle and Travis. She finally felt safe.
“This way,” Jennie said leading them into her office.
She had repurposed the unused horse stall across from Misty’s and turned it into an office. She had laid spare wood planks on the dirt floor and outfitted the space with a small table and two wooden chairs. She kept the horse tack neatly organized along the side wall; bridals and reins hanging from pegs, brushes in one bin, hoof picks in another. She knew exactly where everything was and could tell at a glance if something was out of place.
She pulled out the two chairs and invited Belle and Travis to sit. Jennie went to the corner and took an empty crate and placed it on its side, creating a makeshift stool. After sitting down, Jennie placed her bag on the table. Belle looked on with anxious anticipation while Travis had a confused look on his face. Jennie couldn’t help but feel a combination of both of these emotions.
“Let’s see it then,” said Belle. “You can finally show me the pictures Mrs. Townsend presented in class.”
It struck Jennie that Belle had missed the last class Mrs. Townsend would ever teach. It had been the most meaningful class Jennie had sat through in her school career. She sighed, extracted the old, leather-bound book, and placed it on the table.
“What’s that? A book?” Travis scratched his head.
“This is why Mrs. Townsend disappeared,” Jennie replied solemnly.
The old leather crackled as she opened the brittle cover. Jennie gingerly removed the pictures Mrs. Townsend had inserted between the pages. She showed Belle and Travis the photos spanning the two hundred years of the Commune’s existence. She told them everything Mrs. Townsend had explained concerning them, about what they revealed, and about Elder Marlene being in every single one.
When she was finished, Belle and Travis sat staring at the faded color photos spread across the table surface. Their eyes were wide and mouths slightly open. No one knew what to say. Finally, Belle broke the silence.
“Hearing about it earlier stunned me. Seeing it takes it to a whole other level. Is this how everyone else reacted during class?”
“Pretty much. We were all speechless.” Jennie said. “Then the bell rang for lunch just after Mrs. Townsend revealed it was Elder Marlene in every single photo. She is an Elder
and a Founder. I still don’t know how it’s possible. How is it that she doesn’t age? There are too many questions I will never be able to ask Mrs. Townsend,”
“The book might be able to give us some answers,” Travis suggested. He cocked his head to the side, studying the book. “What is it, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Jennie inserted the photos between the pages and lifting the book, “but it’s really old from the looks of it.”
Jennie examined the book she held delicately in her hands. The tan cover was made of smooth leather, dry and cracked with age. The vellum pages were a deep cream, discolored with time. The once black ink was now a light grey, having faded over the years.
Closing the book, Jennie ran her slender fingers over the front – there was something embossed in the leather. Specs of gold leaf clung in the grooves on the cover. The rest of it rubbed off long ago. Jennie could not make out what the design was, but as she traced it with her fingertips, she recognized a familiar shape. It was the outline of a horse.
Jennie reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of blank paper and a pencil. She placed the paper on the cover of the book and rubbed the flat side of the graphite back and forth over the embossed cover.
“What are you doing?” Travis asked.
“There’s something on the cover that I can’t make out. I’m making a rubbing of it.”
The three of them leaned in, peering at the image that materialized in front of them. The gentle back and forth motion of Jennie’s hand was mesmerizing as subtle lines were revealed. When she stopped moving the pencil, they all leaned in even further to get a better look.
“What is it?” Belle asked.
Jennie lifted the paper and held it close to her eyes, tilting it to make out the details of the rubbing. “It’s a horse, a rearing horse. It’s surrounded by a circle made of some sort of… leaves?” Jennie slid it across the table so Belle and Travis could see it.
Belle squinted at the rubbing. “I don’t understand what a horse with some leaves around it has to do with anything. Why would they take Mrs. Townsend away for that?”
“There might be something explaining what this symbol is and what it means inside the book,” Jennie suggested.
“You said Mrs. Townsend got her information from the Secret Archives. So, this book must have come from there too. What if this horse engraving has something to do…“ Belle stopped speaking abruptly. The color drained from her face.
The loft floorboards above them were creaking. Someone was moving up there. Jennie’s stomach began to turn over. She forgot to check the loft. Fear clenched her body so firmly she felt as though she were suffocating. They were not alone.
11
Jennie signaled with her hand to Travis, indicating that he should stay put. She crept across her office to the tack wall. She scanned the wall and picked out a riding crop – a sort of small whip – and a pitchfork with sharp tines. She beckoned Belle closer.
She gave Belle the pitchfork. “Take this and stand behind the base of the ladder to the loft. Keep out of sight.” Jennie whispered. “I’m going up there.”
With pleading eyes, Belle shook her head in protest. Jennie pretended not to see.
She leaned her head out of the opening to peer down the central aisle of the stable. When she felt confident the way was clear, she motioned for Belle to follow. The loose earth floor of the stable helped muffle their footsteps. When they reached the base of the ladder, Jennie signaled to Belle to move around behind it and stay out of sight. She pointed to herself then up towards the loft.
Jennie gripped the riding crop in one hand and the ladder in the other. She took a deep breath and began to climb. When she was about halfway up, she and paused, listening for movement overhead. She heard the faint rustling of hay in the front corner of the loft, just above her office. She continued climbing, her heart beating in her throat.
Her eyes were now just above the floor, so she could peer out across the loft. Her view to the far-right corner of the loft was obstructed by loose hay spread across the floor. She advanced another rung of the ladder. Her shoulders were now exposed, but her view was still obstructed by the stacked bales of hay towards the far end of the barn. It never occurred to her this could prove to be a useful hiding place for someone.
Jennie put the riding crop down in front of her and placed her hands flat on the wood floor. She used her arms to steady herself as her legs climbed another two rungs, then she brought her feet under her, knees tucked to her chest. She remained in the crouching position listening for what felt like hours, but it had only been a few minutes. She could no longer hear any movement, but she was certain whoever was up here with her was in the corner where she fixed her gaze. She wished in this moment she could see through the hay blocking her view.
Her heart was racing, and she could hear her speeding pulse in her ears. She stood and brushed feebly at the bits of hay that clung to her sweaty hands. She scooped up the riding crop and advanced. She wished she had the sharp metal pitchfork, but it would have been too loud and bulky coming up the ladder. The riding crop, with its small fold of hardened leather at the end of the two-foot stick, was her only protection now.
Jennie was careful to avoid the floorboards she knew creaked when walking on them. She gripped the riding crop with a shaking hand to steady herself and keep up her nerve. She heard a subtle movement ahead of her, and she stopped to listen. The sound was coming from behind a pile of hay bales just ahead of her to the left. She tiptoed forward and positioned herself so that she was standing with her back pressed against a stack of hay.
Jennie took a deep breath, trying to muster her courage and strength. She would find out who was hiding in the loft and what they were doing there. It unnerved her that all she had to defend herself was the little whip. It might not be much use against someone like Sash, but she had the element of surprise. Whoever it was behind the hay, she was ready for them.
Jennie rounded the corner with the riding crop raised high above her head. She froze, her eyes wide with surprise. Who is this? she thought. I’ve never seen him before.
There was no such thing as a stranger in the Commune; everyone knew everyone else. But this man was just that, a stranger. Jennie was staring into the face of a young man, approximately her age within a year or two. His piercing, bright green eyes stared back at her. Dark stubble covered his firmly set jaw. She could not gauge his height because he was sitting down, but she could tell he was lean and muscular. He was quite handsome.
She could have stared at him indefinitely, taking in his striking appearance, if it weren’t for his outstretched hand pointing a sharp looking dagger directly at her. She saw the green sleeve covering his left arm was stained brown with dried blood. Her eyes darted back to his face again, not wanting to miss a change in his expression which might indicate if he were about to lunge. She noticed beads of sweat on his forehead, and he looked unusually pale. The two of them were in a stalemate, and neither of them dared to move.
Jennie finally found her voice and settled for the most direct questions. “Who are you? Where have you come from?” she demanded.
“My name is Ethan McAllister. I come from outside your wall,” he replied, still wielding his dagger.
“That’s impossible. There are no humans left beyond the wall. Now lower your weapon.”
“Is that what you’re made to believe here?” Ethan lowered his arm and placed the dagger in its sheath on his belt with strained effort.
“I will be asking the questions.” Jennie snapped back. “Why are you in my stable?”
To her surprise, Ethan volunteered the information without hesitation. “I was in the woods on a scouting mission. My people received word that there was an unusual pattern of lemeron migration to the south. I was sent to investigate. I got caught in a storm and got lost. That’s when one of the lemerons attacked me,” he said, gesturing to his left arm with a tilt of his head. “I fled and ran into your wall. This was the first buil
ding I saw and I wanted to get out of the rain.”
Jennie was struggling to accept this free-flowing information. She wondered if it might be a trick. Perhaps Sash had agents who could plant themselves amongst others to spy. Ethan began to cough violently. The effort drained him and he collapsed on his bed of hay. As she peered closer, his face looked even more flushed than it was before. His wretched condition helped to dispel her concerns and made his story believable. After witnessing the atrocious lie fed to the entire Commune by one of the Elders, she was inclined to believe this stranger over her own leaders.
Jennie’s head spun with the realization that she and the people of the Commune had been lied to about more than just Mrs. Townsend. Ethan’s earlier statement of “what you are made to believe” bothered her. His account of how he got here alluded to even more people living outside of the wall. The people of the Commune were always told that they were the only humans left; there was no one else beyond the wall. Yet here sat Ethan, living proof the teachings were wrong. The people of the Commune had been misled about everything.
12
Ethan thought the girl might faint. Her face grew white as he explained why he was in the forest and how he found his way to her stable. She clearly had no idea there were other people living outside of their wall. He wondered what kind of place sheltered their people in ignorance such as this.
“Are you all right? You look pale. Maybe you should sit down,” Ethan suggested.
She nodded and sank down on her knees, sitting on her heels. She still held the small whip in her hand, but now her grip was loose. Ethan could see she was attractive. Her auburn hair had been pulled gently back and tied behind her head. Her blue eyes were stern when she first rounded the corner, but they had softened while listening to him. They now were distant and gazed right through him, making him feel invisible.
