Once I came downstairs from showering off all that blood and grime, my father didn’t even ask where I’d been all day. I smiled, played the good daughter—I could do it one last time. We played backgammon. He told me about the sermon he was writing for next Sunday’s service, and I gave him some feedback. As he headed to bed, I gave him a hug, a long one. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.” I was glad those would be the last words we ever spoke to each other in person. Once I was in Rochester, I’d call and tell him about the last-minute opening on a volunteer trip to Honduras—I’d give him no time to question my story.
It felt surreal to walk the halls of my school again, to have the same superficial conversations with the same pretty people. Instead of my usual crowd, I was drawn to the kids I never would have deigned to chat with before, the Outcasts I used to look down on. Do you know the truth? I wanted to ask them. What has your life been like, looking the way you do? What do you feel guilty about? For the first time in my life, I saw their true beauty.
Macy was back in school, and I was glad. I wanted to see her one last time before disappearing forever. She was covered in thick makeup, a funny hat, and she sat at her desk in every class with her head down, her hands blocking her face. She got quite a few stares, some whispers, but overall I was surprised at how nice people were to her. Much nicer than I would have been, had I not known the truth. I realized then what an ugly, petty person had been hidden by my beauty and piety, and I vowed never to be that girl again.
Macy talked excitedly of the future, of the religious camps her parents were sending her to. She would live her life immaculately from now on, she was sure of it. I could see that prayer was slowly restoring her. I had to tell myself that, at least. Otherwise the guilt would have shown on my face, for not being able to save her from a less-than-perfect life, from her own ignorance.
At lunch, not wanting to sit in a crowd full of pious automatons, I took my sandwich to a tree a block or so from the school, where I’d seen stringy-haired Ann and some other Outcast kids sit before. I’d come here once with Great Books, proud of my good deeds. Now, as I approached, they immediately vacated—they were tired of hearing my sermons. I wanted to call out and tell them to stay, tell them I understood, that I was on their side now—but what would it matter? I’d be gone in a matter of hours.
As I sat, looking up at the tree, taking in the last warmth I’d feel before disappearing into the Canadian wilderness, someone sat down beside me. It was Dawn. Disgusted to see her, I immediately stood, started walking away, but she followed me, whispered, “You’re being watched.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Watched?”
“Starting this afternoon. Someone within Prophet Joshua’s organization noticed that the GPS on your dad’s car is deactivated, and now they’re suspicious. My sources tell me they’re putting 24/7 surveillance on you.”
“I have to go now, then.” I told her about my plan with Jude. She didn’t seem particularly surprised to hear about it, nor was she particularly supportive.
“You could go,” Dawn said. “Maybe you’ll get caught, but maybe you’ll get across the border and be okay. Or . . . you could stay. You could help us.”
I was stupefied that she would even suggest it. “Why in the world do you think I’d say yes to that?”
“Because of this.” She handed me an iPad, and I scrolled through the images—the black market, burned to the ground. I swiped quickly past the mangled bodies, horrified.
“Who did this?”
“Who do you think?”
Prophet Joshua. My stomach sank as I remembered telling Samuel about the black market. Its location. Could this be my fault?
“These people deserve justice,” she said.
“And you’re the one to give it to them?” I asked, incredulous.
“You helped us save countless lives yesterday. I know, those lives are all theoretical, and I can’t take away what you had to witness. But you saved so many more. Not to mention all the information Dr. Marko is bringing us . . . we may finally have a shot at understanding this technology for real . . .”
“It’s easy to say something’s justified when you’re the one who did it,” I spat back. “You’re just finding excuses.”
Her voice remained measured. “Maybe I am.”
“And you’re okay with that? Knowing that there could have been a better path and you didn’t take it?”
“You think there was a better path? Tell me, what would you have done?”
“How should I know? You lie to me about everything.”
“So say I stop. Say I tell you everything I know, empower you as fully as I can.”
“And?”
“Find a way to do it better. If you think there’s a more moral road, stay here and help me take it.”
“I will never work with you,” I said, full of revulsion.
“Because I lied to you,” she said. “Not because I’m not right.”
“You’re not right.”
“It’s easy to feel pious and moral when you’re sitting on the sidelines.”
“I haven’t been . . .”
“In Nova Scotia, you will be. Grace, I know you. You’re a good person. The kind we need more of. And you can sit back and let less-moral people make these tough decisions, or you can stay and try to make better ones yourself. And maybe you’ll make some mistakes, maybe you can’t save everyone . . . but I think you can do some real good. More than you’d be doing by running away.” I remembered how recently I’d urged Father Dennehy to do this very thing—to be a moral counter to Dawn’s desperation. If he wasn’t up for the task . . . was I?
I stared her down. “Who are you? Your organization. Who are you even asking me to help?”
“Jude must have told you there are lots of people like me, all over the world,” she said. “All different religions, all different backgrounds, all united with one goal.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re trying to make the world the way it was.”
Full of death and war and destruction? I couldn’t mask my horror. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because it’s better than the world we have now. Trust me. You’re young enough that you don’t know any different, but believe me . . . this world is not a happy one. Even if it seems to be.”
“You keep saying you’re the right side. Why should I believe that?”
She was unequivocal. “Because Prophet Joshua is evil.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean?”
“You met him. You can’t tell? The man is obsessed with power.”
“He already has plenty,” I argued.
“How do you think he got it?” she asked. “That technology he’s working on? Just the tip of the iceberg. Imagine if he’s not just Punishing you for your thoughts. Imagine if he can control them. If he remains unchecked, many more innocent people are going to get hurt.”
I couldn’t believe I was even considering it. “So what happens if I stay?”
“Like I said, Joshua’s people want to see what you’re up to. There will be someone following your every move, listening to everything you say.”
“That guard guy, right?”
She hesitated. And then I guess she figured I’d know sooner or later. “Not the guard. It’ll be Zack Cannon.” The way she said it, like she knew about him, I realized Jude must have told her everything. “Just because you know him, that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. It makes him more dangerous.”
“Can I make him go away?”
“Convince him you’re loyal to the prophet. Convince him you don’t know anything.”
“I can’t. Zack already knows.” I briefly explained about Macy. Dawn didn’t seem concerned.
“He knows you know about the pills. But he doesn’t know you’re working with us.”
“No, but Zack knows a different story than I told the prophet, he knows I saw him in the woods. If he tells someone, and
it gets back to Joshua . . .”
“He hasn’t told anyone,” Dawn said. “If he had, you’d be dead right now.”
“So what? I’m off the hook?”
“You could be. Convince him you won’t be any trouble. Convince him you’re not worth watching anymore.”
I tried to think of all the things I still didn’t know. “Who does Zack work for? The prophet?”
“Not directly, but yes.”
“What is his organization, what does it do?” As she hesitated, I prodded her, “What happened to telling me everything?”
“Zack’s job is to help keep the illusion that we’re living in Great Spirit’s paradise. I don’t know how much you know about brain chemistry . . .”
“More than I did a couple weeks ago.”
“Not everyone feels guilt,” she explained. “Sociopaths, for example—when they do something you and I might think was wrong, they feel nothing. Zack identifies those people and removes them from the general population, where they could confuse others. Not to mention the heinous acts those people might commit without consequences to restrain them.”
“Ciaran,” I realized. “That’s why he was never Punished.”
Dawn had clearly heard the story from Jude, and nodded. “Exactly like Ciaran.”
“So all of those people in that prison? The ones who weren’t scientists?”
“Were they sociopaths? A lot of them, yes.”
I was glad I hadn’t known that at the time. It would have been even more chilling walking those dimly lit aisles.
“I’ll be honest—when Jude brought you to me, I didn’t want to save you.”
I didn’t hide my disdain. “I remember.”
“The reason I changed my mind was anticipating a moment like this. We’ve spent years trying to make headway against the prophet, with no success. Helping you was a risk, yes. But if you do what I think you can do? If you remain our spy within the prophet’s army, if you do more of what you did to get us to West Virginia? You’ll turn the tide of this war and end it forever.”
A terrible thought occurred to me. “If Zack is following me, I couldn’t see Jude.”
“No. It wouldn’t be safe. But if we win, this all ends. You could live a normal life. You wouldn’t have to run, you wouldn’t be risking your lives, or the lives of those you love.”
“Those we love?”
“What do you think would happen if you made a wrong move, if someone found you in Nova Scotia? It’s not just your life, it’s your father’s. Your friends’.”
“You’re saying I’m safer if I stay.”
“Not at all. I’m saying your life makes a difference if you stay.” She’d come to the end of her pitch. “Think about it.”
She stepped away, leaving me once again with more questions than answers. My mind was swimming, overwhelmed, and for the first time in a long time, I took a deep breath, and I prayed. I asked Great Spirit what to do. The real Great Spirit, the one I still believed watched over me from above, even if He didn’t have any power to affect things on Earth. The one who’d spoken to me days earlier through that uneasy feeling in my gut, telling me something was wrong with our rescue mission. I needed the same kind of guidance now. What would Great Spirit do? Help Dawn’s group of rebels, help people see the truth? Help everyone be free, help them live happier lives, prevent scenes like that black market massacre? Or flee the country and lick His wounds? I had to decide now. The clock was ticking.
But I didn’t move. As alluring as a life on the run with Jude sounded . . . it turns out I wasn’t just a simple teenage girl who wanted a simple life. Maybe I wanted to be something more. Something I’d never even considered until that instant. All that time I’d spent volunteering in Haiti, ministering to Outcasts . . . that was me trying to make a difference, trying to help humanity, trying to make my life mean something. And now, I was being given a chance to do that. No matter how idyllic the life I created for myself might be, I knew I’d never truly be happy unless I was doing something meaningful. And while no voice spoke down at me from on high, the knowledge came from within. I didn’t know if I could trust Dawn. But I had to pick a side. I had to try to help.
Chapter 14
As the end-of-school bell rang, I followed a chattering Macy out the door. She’d finally gotten the courage to confide her story to one of our other friends—her fear of stigma outweighed by the desire to tell everyone that she’d been cured by the prophet himself. Everyone oohed and aahed as she recounted his healing touch. “I thought he was going to tell me I’d sinned too much, but he didn’t. He told me Great Spirit loved me, and that everything was going to be okay. And then . . .” She looked up, noticing. “What’s my brother doing here?”
She pointed to a car I recognized as Zack’s. The windows were tinted—I couldn’t see inside. She waved to him. “Zack!”
He got out of the car, smiled, approached us. “Figured you’ve had a rough week—I thought you’d like door-to-door service.”
Macy hugged him. “Thanks.”
“I promised Mom and Dad I wouldn’t tease you anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell you that you look ridiculous in those sunglasses.”
Macy shoved him playfully. “Lies.”
“Everyone knows what you look like, you’re just drawing attention.”
“Three different people said I look like a movie star.”
“Sure, the star of a monster movie.”
As they bickered their way to the car, Zack looked back to me. “Want a ride home?” I shook my head. “Come on, I’m driving right by your house. Why waste all that time on the bus?”
“I’m fine.”
Zack was getting frustrated. “Grace, just get in the car.”
I took a deep breath. This was the shape of things to come, wasn’t it? “Okay.”
Zack tried to pull me into casual conversation, and I managed the best I could. It occurred to me now that maybe Zack wasn’t a killer—as far as I could tell, his only victim had turned up alive. But still, he was watching me, knowingly making me a prisoner in my own day-to-day life. I still wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
The car was still rolling to a stop in front of my house as I opened the door, said my quickest goodbye, and bolted inside. I watched Zack drive away. At this moment, I was out of sight, but from what Dawn had said, he’d still be tracking my phone, my dad’s car. For all I knew, my whole house was bugged now. I had to live every moment from now on like I was in Prophet Joshua’s office.
And I couldn’t meet Jude, I couldn’t even say a real goodbye. The guilt weighed on me, heavy and permanent. I’d been so furious at Jude for abandoning me, and here I was doing the same to him. Worse, because I’d chosen to leave him behind. Right now, he was excitedly waiting for me at our meeting point. Soon he would begin to worry, wondering why I was running late. And eventually Dawn would tell him that I simply wasn’t coming. I knew how I’d feel, if he’d put me in that position—it would be the end of our relationship, maybe even our friendship, forever.
I thought back on everything I’d just experienced. The close shaves with Joshua and Samuel. Friends brought back from the brink of death. Enemies who couldn’t be. An army of sociopaths still sitting in that prison. All those scientists, who had chosen potential suicide over the certainty of a lifetime of captivity . . . I wondered if, wherever they were now, they were happy they’d taken that path.
I remembered when my path had been simple. When the way I judged people had been simple. Outcasts bad, cute boys good. How easy my life had been then. But in a way, that ease had felt hollow, meaningless. In a perfect world, what is there to strive for? At least now maybe I could do something that actually mattered.
I considered what my future might look like. Working for the prophet, my every move scrutinized by all sides. Did I see an end to this? Even if I spent the rest of my high school and college years saving lives, I couldn’t imagine being happy. I’d be doing all that alone, with no
one to share it with. But maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe I didn’t get to be one of the happy ones. Maybe in exchange for living a life that was about something, I had to give up all the happy things in it. Maybe, even if I couldn’t find comfort, I could find meaning. I’d have to.
Instead of living for myself, I could live for my father, for my friends at school, for the memory of my mother. The Revelations had taken her from me, but I knew the nanotech living in our brains would take many more mothers, many more children, until I did something to stop it. And I would. I was certain of it.
You’re laughing at me. Grace Luther, rotting in her prison cell, looking back on her youth and trying to give her life significance. But I do see meaning in it. Despite all the tragedies that had already occurred, and were yet to come . . . I know I did everything I could to squeeze value out of my little life. And whatever mistakes I’ve made, Great Spirit’s opinion is the only one I put any stock in. Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this. You’re wrong. You’re wrong about everything. I was wrong almost every step of the way, and you’re all wrong to judge me for it. We were all wrong to put our trust in leaders who lied to us, we were all wrong to think we knew what was right. But someday, at Great Spirit’s Great Judgment, we’ll know the truth. I’ll see you then.
Acknowledgments
First off, my parents, to whom this novel is dedicated: this book would not exist without all of your emotional, financial, and creative support over the past few decades. You were my first editors, my first cheerleaders, my first champions. Dad, thank you for the six thousand times you talked me out of giving up. Mom, for reading all the stories I wrote as a teenager, even the most embarrassingly bad ones, and always encouraging me to keep writing and revising. Dave, for buying stock in me all those years ago. I am indebted to all of you more than words can say.
Sinless Page 20
