Sinless

by Sarah Tarkoff

  “Don’t talk about Jude like that.”

  “That’s his name? Jude? Were you in love with him or something?”

  “He was my best friend.”

  “Oh.” After a bit, Ciaran offered, “Being depressed about it won’t bring him back.”

  My mind was spinning. I had so many questions. “How many people like you are there?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone else like me. I guess I could be the only one.”

  “Why do you think Great Spirit picked you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You think you’re meant for something special?”

  “I know I am.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hang around, maybe you’ll find out.”

  I was still shivering. And I was still a little mad about the coat thing. Stubbornly, I pouted. “No.”

  He took my hands, warmed them in his. Soft. Tender. He whispered, “If you stay with me, Great Spirit will protect you, too.”

  I couldn’t believe that. “How will Great Spirit protect me?”

  “The same way He protects me. I don’t know.” I could tell he was getting annoyed by all my questions. “What was it your father said in his sermon about surrendering to Great Spirit’s will?”

  “So you’re a cleric now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know anything . . . I just know you’re really beautiful.”

  Beautiful. He let go of my hands and took hold of the empty sleeves of my new jacket, using them to pull me close. There were butterflies in my stomach now. It felt too good to be true—that someone Great Spirit had chosen would really select me, out of all the girls in the world. I asked, “Why me?”

  He seemed taken aback by the question. “Why you? Because I think you’re special, too.”

  He put a hand to my face and then—it happened. He kissed me. There it was, my first kiss. As magical as I’d always imagined. More magical, because the boy I was with was more magical than anyone I’d ever imagined.

  Driving back from the movie, I noticed Ciaran wasn’t wearing a seat belt. He didn’t have to, I realized. He was in no danger. From anything. I tried to keep that in mind as he sped down the dark, winding roads.

  “So am I taking you home?”

  It was 11 p.m. As someone who’d been in bed early every night before this one, who rarely went to events unrelated to our worship center or volunteer work, the world suddenly felt much wider. “Where else would you take me?”

  “I have a couple ideas. What would you want to do?”

  “Anything.” I paused. “Something I’ve never done before.”

  “Something you could only do with me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Somewhere you’ve never even heard of?”

  My heart raced with the thrill. “Absolutely.”

  “Hold on, cleric’s daughter.” He pulled a terrifyingly unsafe U-turn, and we were off.

  Chapter 8

  It was certainly somewhere I’d never heard of. I told you about my time at the care center helping to rehabilitate Outcasts, so I wasn’t revolted by them like so many of my peers. And I knew there were millions, so there couldn’t have been care centers enough to hold them all, especially not the poorest ones. Still, I had always imagined Outcasts as mole people, living in makeshift huts in alleyways, shuffling through the streets of big cities under the cover of night.

  In reality, the Outcasts had quite a vibrant society. I’d soon be exposed to it plenty more, but my first encounter was with Ciaran, on the night of our first date. We parked on an empty street crawling with cockroaches—the kind of place that might have made me nervous, had we still lived in a crime-filled world.

  As I opened my door to get out, I saw a man approaching. Instinctively, I smiled, friendly . . . but as he stepped into the light, I saw his face was twisted, and he was limping. Most shockingly, there was a tube sticking out of his throat, like the ones given to emphysema patients after a tracheotomy, making an earthy rattling sound. He needed it to breathe, I realized, to keep from being choked to death from the inside, like Jude was.

  The man got into his car, and I moved to walk closer to Ciaran. “Where are we?”

  “Right now, we’re on the street.” He had discovered that answering my questions literally was the easiest way to annoy me.

  “Right. Well, where are we going?”

  He pointed to a building—no sign on the wall. “We’re going shopping.”

  “In that old abandoned building?”

  But as we approached I heard a hum of activity inside. Voices. Excitement. Ciaran held the door open for me. “Welcome to the black market.”

  Chapter 9

  The post-Revelation age was a world devoid of its previous sadness. Budgets once spent on armies were now spent on healthcare and emergency response. Police departments were shells of their former selves—Great Spirit was police enough, and crime was almost nonexistent. Markets were stable, as people gave up economic excess in exchange for pious moderation and hard work. The tide was even turning on global warming, as every nation united to fund efficient public transit and alternative fuel research. Tragedies were few and far between, and rarely man-made.

  But just a decade earlier, when I was a child? Tragedies were common. Wars were common. People lived in fear because you never knew if that stranger approaching you in the dark of night was good or evil. People watched the news because what happened in the world might affect their safety, their economic well-being. Stock markets worldwide were constantly going up and down, with all the cataclysms of war and corruption and doubt and debt, and people were constantly losing money.

  But that chaos was nothing compared to 2024, when the Revelations first began. The world had seen recessions before, panic and rioting even, but this was unprecedented. People thought the world was ending, and their fear sent the already fragile economy tanking. And then Great Spirit started making Prohibitions. That was the biggest surprise, especially in Western countries where people were used to certain freedoms. Great Spirit, through His prophets, commanded moderation—no more binge drinking, and harsh Punishments for those using illegal drugs. He said they were interfering with our spiritual experience of His world. And, as my good friend Clint can tell you, Great Spirit made good on His promise to Punish all who disobeyed this law. But that wasn’t the end of it—Great Spirit also warned merchants that they were responsible for the actions of those they sold to, meaning your local grocer got the same Punishment you did when you smoked the pack of cigarettes you bought from him. So almost overnight, out of self-preservation, stores stopped carrying potentially harmful goods. Which meant that in the past decade, I’d never seen any adult smoke a cigarette or have a drink.

  I knew the Clints of the world must have found some way to access the drugs they remained addicted to. I don’t know how manufacturers survived the process of selling them, but somehow fresh drugs kept making it into the general population. I’d just never considered where one might go to get them, until Ciaran walked me through those doors. The black market—that was a level of sophistication I’d never expected.

  We arrived at midnight, and the place was still bustling. Everything smelled pungent and unfamiliar. Voices shouted over each other, haggling about prices, as I stood on tiptoes to see the merchandise over the shoulders of the crowd. Here was every item I knew Great Spirit Prohibited, and even more I’d never have thought of. Cigars, porn, tattoos. I saw a girl with her jaw loosely attached getting her hair cut in a colorful punk chop. I saw a couple with hands in each other’s back pockets, their skin grimy and nearly falling off, heading out with a bag full of sex toys. The sounds of vigorous bartering encircled us. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and they spoke in a shorthand I had trouble following.

  Everywhere we walked, we got odd glances—we didn’t belong. Every other person in here was an Outcast. Any store we walked up to, customers would quietly shuffle away, worried perhaps that we were part of some kin
d of god squad, coming to clean them up. Ciaran seemed to enjoy this status, and he enjoyed my awe even more.

  “How do you know about this place?” I asked.

  “Everyone does. I just knew you wouldn’t.”

  “Because I’m sheltered?”

  “Yeah.”

  I looked around. There wasn’t anything here I could imagine wanting. It was like growing up in a land of gourmet food, then coming to a market full of rotten dog meat—we rarely want more than our culture has prescribed for us. And I was never an outside-the-box thinker, anyway. I preferred my life the way it always had been—safe, familiar. Except . . .

  “What are these?” We’d approached a stand of movies, ones I’d never seen before.

  “Movies. We just saw one earlier tonight, remember?”

  “I’ve never heard of these ones.”

  “Really? These aren’t even that bad.” He seemed surprised, as though I was sheltered to a level he hadn’t even considered. “This one’s funny.”

  He handed me a comedy—the stars I recognized, the content I didn’t. I thought I’d seen all the old movies there were. All they seemed to stream on TV were old movies. But then again . . . all they streamed on TV were things deemed “safe” in this new world. Of course there must have been movies from the twentieth century with content deemed offensive—too many swear words, too much violence. The racks of movies in front of me suggested that there were quite a few.

  “Should I buy it?” I was feeling rebellious. All-powerful. Nothing could stop me, except that nagging doubt that . . . I shouldn’t. That guilt, that worry that Great Spirit would Punish me. But He couldn’t, could He? Wasn’t I safe with Ciaran? But something felt off. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Could Great Spirit be Punishing me right this moment?

  My fears were confirmed when Ciaran took the movie from my hand, looking at me closely. “Don’t buy it.”

  “Why? Do I look different?”

  “Yeah, you’re getting all gooey-eyed, it’s embarrassing. Let’s get out of here before people start looking at you funny.”

  “People have been looking at me funny since we walked in.”

  “Don’t make it worse. You can’t trust these people.”

  He whisked me away quickly. There were no mirrors anywhere inside the black market, for obvious reasons. When we reached the car, I glanced in the rearview mirror. My image, thankfully, had returned to normal. But I had an inkling that had I purchased that film, Ciaran’s “blessing” would not have extended to me. I was no more immune from Great Spirit’s Punishments than before.

  And as we drove away from the black market, I no longer felt safe as Ciaran rounded turns blindly; even with my seat belt on, I jerked from side to side. Ciaran knew what life was like for someone blessed, but he had no idea how to protect someone who wasn’t.

  Chapter 10

  Somewhere around Ciaran’s third speeding blind turn, I noticed that in addition to my wallet, I’d forgotten my phone at home. I’d been so engrossed in Ciaran, I’d given no thought to what Macy or my other friends might be texting me. But now, when I was starting to feel a little trapped, I regretted having nothing but a key, twenty dollars, and strawberry lip gloss in that tiny purse.

  “I think I should be getting home.”

  “And why is that?” Ciaran leaned over to kiss me.

  “Can you watch the road, please?” He pulled away, surprised by my sudden anxiety.

  “Bossy. I like that.”

  “It’s getting late. I have school in the morning.”

  “There’s just one more thing I want to show you.”

  I remained silent. I didn’t want to go. As much as I liked Ciaran and was in awe of the world he’d opened my eyes to, I was tired. I wanted to be at home, in bed, and I wanted time to process everything that had just happened. I didn’t want to be forced to go to some strip club or some sin factory, or whatever else he thought might shock the sheltered cleric’s daughter.

  Ciaran was annoyed by my silence. “Okay?”

  An older, less passive version of me would have said, I said I wanted to go home, so please take me home. Seventeen-year-old Grace said, grudgingly, “Okay.”

  We drove on in silence for a bit, and he put on some heavy metal. I was sure it was illegal, sinful music, which made me angrier with him. I couldn’t understand why this kid was blessed, why Great Spirit would choose him over me. There was no one more pious than me, no one more dutiful. I knew Ciaran’s lack of obedience must have come from a lifetime without Punishment, without fear, but I couldn’t imagine that Great Spirit was really okay with that. The same nagging questions that had plagued me since Jude’s death rose up again. I lived in a world that everyone agreed was just, but so many things still felt so unfair.

  “We’re here.”

  We didn’t seem to be anywhere. We’d pulled off to the side of the road. To one side was a deep thicket of trees, black and menacing in the dark of night, and to the other was a clearing. Ciaran pulled out a blanket. “Have you ever seen the stars from this far out? Away from all the light pollution?”

  Our worship center had sponsored many stargazing trips, so this was nothing special for me, but I was just so relieved he’d picked a Great Spirit–approved activity. “We’re going stargazing?”

  “That’s right.” He kissed me again. One by one, my worries, my spiritual anxieties melted away. This was all part of Great Spirit’s plan. Suddenly, this night could not have felt more perfect.

  We lay on the blankets, cuddled up together for warmth, pointing out constellations. Good student that I was, I remembered all kinds of obscure ones. I knew all the zodiac signs, since every Sunday school studied a bit of astrology. Somewhere around Virgo, we got distracted, kissing. I couldn’t believe it had been mere hours since he’d picked me up, when I’d been so nervous that he might not like me.

  “You’re special,” he told me. “You know that, right?” I didn’t. I wasn’t, I can tell you in hindsight.

  “I’m not special,” I insisted. “You’re the one with special powers. You’re the one Great Spirit picked.”

  “And you’re the only one I’ve ever told.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Why me?”

  “I told you. I just sensed something about you. You’re . . .”

  “Special.”

  “Yeah.” Even in that moment I didn’t buy it. I barely knew him. Why would he have put me above every other friend and relative he’d ever met? But I was used to people telling the truth, and even though I knew his face wouldn’t change if he lied, I wanted so badly to believe him, I didn’t think too hard about what he was saying.

  Things started to get more heated. He kissed my neck, so hard I was sure it must be bruising. His hands drifted down, grabbing my waist. As he unzipped my new red coat, I sat up.

  “I think I should go home.”

  “Just a little bit longer.”

  He was pressing me to the ground, roughly. It was then it occurred to me that we were miles from anyone, anywhere. No cars had passed by.

  “I want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you home, don’t worry.” His hand had found its way under my skirt, stroking my thigh. This felt wrong, very wrong. I hadn’t given a thought to what someone like Ciaran might want to do on a date with someone like me, but now it was painfully obvious.

  “Ciaran . . .” I protested, but he put a finger to my lips. He was bigger than me. Stronger than me.

  “Relax. Great Spirit wants this for you,” he said.

  “No,” I said. He was unzipping his pants, it was all happening so fast. I tried to pray, but I realized I would get no help from Great Spirit now. Great Spirit had chosen Ciaran over me. Maybe Ciaran was right. Maybe this was His plan, my destiny. Maybe this is all I was ever supposed to be—someone like this to someone like Ciaran.

  But no—I didn’t want to worship anyone who would want this for me. For the first time, I asked myse
lf what I wanted. Somewhere deep down, I found a power, an instinct I didn’t even know was there. For a moment, my right leg was free, and I found a way to connect my knee with Ciaran’s nose. It surprised him enough that he stood up, stepped back, and I ran, heels in my hands, across the empty road into the woods.

  The soles of my feet stung with the sharpness of the forest floor; my tights hung on my legs in shreds after only a few steps. But I ran, farther and farther, as far as I could go, holding my arms in front of me to avoid smashing into the trees I couldn’t see.

  After a moment, I paused, ducked behind a tree, listened to the stillness. I dared not move yet. I sat, waited. It felt like hours, but it must have been only ten or twenty freezing minutes. Every time a branch cracked, my heart skipped a beat, sure Ciaran was right behind me. The nighttime sounds of chirping crickets never seemed so cacophonous, so overwhelming.

  I was nearly ready to venture back out, try to find my way home, when I heard it—a crackling of branches in a steady cadence. Step-step-step-step—a decidedly human sound. I stayed absolutely still. It was Ciaran, it had to be. But the forest was too large. He’d have to spend the night combing every tree to find my hiding place. As long as I made no sound, I’d give him no help.

  But he seemed intent on finding me. His steady march continued, grew louder, softer, louder, softer, as he searched the woods near and far. . . . I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to peek, I had to see where he was. I saw a Ciaran-sized figure approaching in the distance. Headed my way.

  I had two options. I could run, hoping to take advantage of my head start. But barefoot, I had no chance. I looked around for something to arm myself with. I’d fought him off last time, perhaps I could hold my own again. As quietly as I could, I picked up a nearby stick. If he found me, I was as ready as I could be.

  The footsteps grew louder, closer. And in my peripheral vision, I saw him, wandering blindly through the forest. Heading deeper in, without seeing me. I was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief. He would keep going, I thought, and I could run back out to the road, I could steal his truck and drive home, I could get to safety. The plan was so vivid it felt like it had already been accomplished.