Lost

by Laura K. Curtis

  No shit. “Neither am I.”

  “I have meditated upon this, asked the Powers what to do. I believe you were brought to us for a purpose. I cannot think it is coincidence that we lost the one who managed the Chosen’s Internet presence so shortly before you arrived.”

  “You need an Internet guy?”

  “This would bring you some measure of peace?”

  “Well, yeah. I could help you out with that for sure. Boost your SEO, get more traffic to your sites, sell more product. I can do all of that.”

  “Deborah tells me you were asking about having your relationship with Serena blessed so that you might move in together.”

  “Like I said, bunks are for kids.”

  “And you’re sure it’s Serena you want? After all, there are many women here. We are not so conventional as the outside world. Many men here do not choose a single mate.”

  So the men got to choose, and the women just went with whoever asked? No wonder Kevin had warned him to hold Tara close.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then it can be arranged. We will have the ceremony Sunday morning. Aaron will find housing for you to move into once the ceremony is complete.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Life among the Chosen does not have to be difficult, Jacob.” A horn rang in the distance. “Ah. Time for lunch. Clean yourself up and go to the hall. After lunch, Francis will take you out to the greenhouses.”

  It was a dismissal, and Jake obeyed. After all, he’d gotten more than he could have hoped for out of the meeting.

  • • •

  “ARE YOU SURE it’s a good idea to give him access to the computer?” Samuel asked, checking the hallway to be sure Jake was gone. “He’s a hacker. He’s going to want to go beyond what we tell him he can do.”

  “We don’t keep anything on that computer. John may not have understood people, but he did understand security.” Owen relaxed back into his chair, enjoying the hot rush of energy from the verbal fencing with Jacob. It had been too long since he’d had to be careful what he said. The Chosen were children to be managed and his apostles understood the mission, so there was no need to mince words with them.

  “And what if Jacob uses the computer to contact someone on the outside? To tell them about the Chosen? What if he’s a reporter out to expose you?”

  “What would he say? He won’t know anything until it’s too late. Plus, he has a weakness. He’s not going anywhere without his girlfriend and she’s not leaving.” As usual, the reminder of the control he held over his children brought a surge of sexual excitement. After lunch, he would find one of the women, bring her in for a private tea, and enjoy himself. But which one? The new girl, Charity, had caught his eye, but she might not be ready for him yet.

  “But he doesn’t know that.” Samuel paced the room, drawing Owen back from his fantasies. “We can’t let him find anything out until we’re absolutely certain of him. I don’t like that you even hinted at the truth. Did you see his eyes? He’s suspicious. A lot of those hacker types are conspiracy theorists—who knows what he’s imagining now? Especially since the purification. Even if all he told people about was that, he could bring a world of hurt down on us.”

  “Relax, Samuel. Jacob and Serena both accepted their punishments. What would he say after the fact? That they’d willingly gone through something they now regret?

  “Besides, I do believe he was brought to us for a reason. We’ve never been betrayed by anyone we’ve vetted. Once you and Francis feel you can trust him, we’ll tell him the truth about why he can’t take his girlfriend away from us. For the moment, keeping him happy is easy. We watch what he does on the computer and we watch his movements around the others, and we decide whether we can bring him into the inner circle.”

  “And if not? If he tries to contact some of his buddies on the outside?”

  Owen shrugged. “Then he dies.”

  • • •

  TARA ENTERED THE dining hall on the heels of the two other women from the laundry and immediately sought out Jake. He’d seated himself toward the head of one of the men’s tables and was talking to a man she didn’t recognize. As if he felt her stare, he looked up and gave her a quick grin.

  How did he look so good after all morning in the drying sheds? She was pretty sure she’d sweated out half a gallon in the laundry, her hair was sticking out in a frizzy halo she could see in her peripheral vision despite the tight French braid she’d made that morning, and any energy she’d woken with had disappeared.

  Aurora plopped down next to her along with one of the women who’d been introduced the same night as Jake.

  “This is Mary,” Aurora said. “She’s been assigned to our bunk.”

  “Welcome,” Tara said. “I’m Serena.” The name still choked her, but she forced a smile. “Mary worked with me making soaps this morning,” Aurora said. “This afternoon she’s going to be selling flowers in town.”

  She has the face for it. Mary’s sweet, shy demeanor would drive sales. Tara had never been sent to town. Not a surprise, but she wished she’d had the opportunity to get out of the compound and send a message to Lucy. Did Jake have a means of contacting the outside world? Or had he simply assumed he’d be able to convince her to leave and wouldn’t need to join up for long himself?

  She glanced across the gradually filling hall. No, Jake was not a man who assumed. He strategized, prepared, investigated. And when situations changed, he remained flexible. He might not have come into the compound with a concrete plan, but he would have put a framework in place before setting foot on Owen Stephenson’s land.

  “Where are you from, Serena?” Mary asked.

  “Here and there. Most recently right in Twin Oaks. A friend of mine moved from town to the community and she seemed really happy so I decided to join, too.” Bringing up Andrea was a calculated risk. It could piss off Owen if he heard about it, but she needed to keep the conversation alive if she hoped to learn anything.

  “You have a friend here?” Mary asked as if Tara had scripted it. “Who?”

  “She’s not here anymore. Her name was Pearl.”

  “Not here? Where did she go?”

  “She . . . ” How to put it? Tara certainly wasn’t going to use the crap “gone on a mission” expression. “She passed away.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.” Mary reached across Aurora and patted Tara’s hand. “But at least your boyfriend is here now.”

  “And he’s hot.” Aurora grinned.

  Tara felt a blush crawl across her cheeks. “He is, isn’t he?”

  “It’s totally romantic that he came all this way to find you,” said Mary. “None of the guys I know would cross the street for a woman.”

  “You just haven’t met the right kind of men,” Tara said. “There are good ones out there.” Look at me, giving relationship advice. What a joke. And then she remembered that Jake was supposed to have cheated on her. “Of course, none of them are perfect. Jacob drank too much, but I am hoping now that he’s away from that temptation, we can get our lives back on track.”

  “Booze and drugs can destroy even the best of them,” Aurora agreed. “Jimmy—my ex—he never hit me when he was straight. Course, he wasn’t straight much.”

  Mary put an arm across Aurora’s shoulders. “At least your baby won’t grow up afraid or exposed to those influences.”

  What would happen to these women if she and Jake were right and criminal activities underlay the Chosen? The whole compound would be shuttered. What then for the Marys and Auroras? Could any kind of honest community grow in the soiled ground?

  Owen took the stage to lead them in prayer, and Tara caught Jake’s gaze once more. One thing about their cover—no one would be surprised to find them looking at each other, meeting up, whispering in corners. With a little luck, even Jake would believe her covert glances were a
ll part of the act.

  • • •

  JAKE HELD TARA’S gaze until Ezra jabbed him in the side with his elbow and muttered, “Ogling your girlfriend during the Leader’s sermon isn’t cool.”

  “Sorry.” But he wasn’t. Tara no doubt interpreted his stare as part of their cover, and that was fine for the moment. They could explore the reality and limits of the attraction between them once they were out of danger.

  When they’d finished eating, he hurried to put his dishes in the tub at the same time she did.

  “I spoke to the Leader,” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her out of the crowd of the Chosen bussing their tableware. “He said he would bless our relationship on Sunday.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Tara grinned up at him, her wide smile open for the public, but a second, secret one in her blue eyes just for him.

  A surge of pure lust surprised him and he pulled her forward to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips.

  “Jacob,” she admonished, pulling away. Her cheeks were pink.

  “Sorry, baby. I’m just excited.”

  “Me, too. But it’s time to go to work.”

  “I know.” But he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to her palm and closing her fingers around the lingering heat. A promise, even if he himself wasn’t sure of what and she didn’t recognize it as such.

  “Where are you working this afternoon?”

  “Francis is taking me out to the greenhouses.”

  As if summoned, a slight, dark-haired young man who had been at the head table with Aaron, Samuel, Jonas, and the Leader, appeared at Jake’s elbow.

  “And here I am,” he said. “Jacob, we haven’t met. I am Francis.”

  “Then I guess that’s my cue to go.” Jake followed Francis out of the dining hall and back to the main house, where they picked up a Jeep.

  “Those assigned to the greenhouses generally leave by bus after breakfast and come back for dinner,” Francis explained. “They eat lunch there because it’s wasteful to drive back and forth in the middle of the day.”

  “Why are the greenhouses so far away?” It had nagged at Jake ever since he’d checked out the aerial photographs of the property. The bunkhouses were clustered on top of one another—which made sense now that he saw that the Chosen were putting up their own buildings, because if they had to dig the plumbing lines by hand they’d keep everything close—but the greenhouses were a good two miles away, separated not only by the dairy buildings but also by a cluster of fruit trees and a large, open area.

  “The Leader inherited this land. The orchard was already in place, as was the foundation for the building that became the first greenhouse. He placed it close to the river for irrigation purposes. It is no trouble to us that they are some distance, and being well inside the perimeter means that none will sneak onto our land and steal from us.”

  “Do you worry about that from the Mexican side?”

  “You believe Mexicans to be less honest?”

  “No. But I do believe the average Mexican is hungrier than the average American. And your greenhouses are so close to the border, I can see them being a tempting target.”

  For a long time Francis did not speak as they bumped along the narrow, rutted track around the fruit trees. Jake recognized peaches, apples, pears, and a couple of kinds of citrus. Some doing better than others, but all carefully pruned and set at a good distance from each other so they’d bear maximum fruit. An odd selection, but one he could imagine Hal Stephenson planting as he attempted various uses for his land, various crops to feed his people. By all accounts, the elder Stephenson had been a decent man, though he’d held a strong grudge against the government, whose regulations he’d blamed for his failure as a cattle rancher.

  “Good fences make good neighbors,” Francis said at last. “And we have very good fences along our border.”

  “I imagine it’s a pain dealing with the US Border guys. They’ve gotta always be in your business. Government types always want more authority than they should have.”

  The bait dangled there for a bit while Francis considered his answer.

  “This land has been in the Leader’s family for generations. Government officials have no cause to be on our property. Their concerns are with cities far more than the open land. The river provides a natural barrier, and we have nice, high fences should anyone get to this side.”

  He examined Jake. “What’s the most complicated thing you ever hacked?”

  “Huh?” It was so out of left field that it took Jake a minute to adjust.

  “The Leader says you’re a computer specialist. I figure that means you hack. Do you?”

  “Some,” Jake admitted. “Mostly gaming software. To make it work the way I want.”

  “So you’ve never tried to, say, hack into a database to erase your criminal record?”

  They had checked him out. Good. “How’d you know?”

  “Just a guess. Many of the Chosen have records. Comes from being misunderstood by Outsiders.”

  And I am the king of fucking Siam. But he kept his expression neutral and shrugged. “You can’t hack human memory or paper. Even if I could get into the database, the chances someone would remember the arrests is too great. I’d be in way deeper if I got busted and they found out I’d erased my rap sheet.” He was pretty sure none of the inner circle had a sense of humor, but he tried for a joke anyway. “Why, you got a record you want taken down?”

  “Not at all,” Francis said as he circled the greenhouses to park behind them. “I am just curious about your apparent dislike of authority.”

  Jake shrugged. “I never thought about it. It kind of goes with the territory. If you get into computers, you get an up-close-and-personal look at how much control corporations—and the government is the biggest corporation around—exert over you. They can—and do—track all kinds of stuff they have no business knowing.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that here. Many of the Chosen come to us specifically to get away from that kind of oversight. Here the government doesn’t tax you, doesn’t spy on you, doesn’t shackle you.”

  No, the Leader does. With your help. But Jake just nodded as he got out of the Jeep.

  “Between the greenhouses and the plantings we do outside, we can grow a great deal here.” He gestured to the short green plants with feathery leaves dotting the land around them, and some staked plants in the distance that Jake thought might be peppers.

  “We grow vegetables for our own consumption, but we grow the flowers to sell, and we also grow sago palms for various nurseries around the state. They bring in good money, but they’re a long-term crop—slow growing and the nurseries don’t want them until they’re a good size. But they are hardy and require little enough care, just trimming and caring for the pups.”

  Surreal. Jake could be talking to any of the many farmers he’d known over the years instead of to some possibly criminal whack-job. He followed Francis inside the first greenhouse. Immediately, he was smacked with the humidity and the sweet, green scent of the place. It was late enough in the year that they were growing tomatoes and cucumbers inside, rows and rows of them, the vines staked up taller than Jake could reach. Two men were making their way down the aisles—the floors of which were steel plates with large drains cut in—carefully plucking the ripe tomatoes and placing them in baskets. Parts of the greenhouse were open to the air, and large fans like the ones in the drying shed circulated air through the plants.

  Francis led him through the massive greenhouse and out the other end.

  “We generally have the same crew working out here for up to three months at a time. People have to be trained. Not so much for the tomatoes—most people know how to take care of them—but the root vegetable and lettuce and herb houses take more skill. What can be pulled, what can’t, what they should look like, when a supervisor needs to
look at a plant.”

  “Okay. Umm . . . not that I don’t appreciate the knowledge and all, but am I going to be assigned up here tomorrow, or why am I getting the tour?”

  “The Leader says you are taking over John’s position running our website.”

  “I guess I am.”

  “John was very conservative about the site. It was just product, price, details. I think we need more than that. I want to put pictures of the greenhouses up. Use the site to explain why our products are so good. How they’re grown, cared for. It could help people understand how the Chosen fit into their lives, as well. Ease any animosity the Outsiders feel.”

  Was this guy for real? Maybe he was so into the whole organic-farming aspect that he just hadn’t noticed how fucked up everything else was and honestly believed they needed to do more to bring the green-living message to the rest of the world.

  Francis kept up his narration as he walked Jake through both of the other greenhouses and then drove him back to the main house.

  They arrived in time for Jake to go back to his own bunk and check on his things before dinner. Whoever had gone through his possessions had been thorough and had made no effort to hide their presence. But why should they? They had the excuse that they’d had to bring clothes to the infirmary for him, and the invasion of his privacy was intended to reinforce the communal nature of the place. And if it served as a warning not to step out of line, so much the better.

  • • •

  AFTER DINNER, JAKE caught up to Tara as he had after lunch, and though she’d expected him to continue his eager-lover act—even prepared herself for it during the mind-numbing hours repairing worn bed linens—still, a little shiver of pleasure went through her when he took her hand.

  “Let’s take a walk.” His eyes fixed on hers, shadowed and intense.

  “I have to get back to the bunk. It will be dark soon.” The bunkhouses had no electricity. Solar-powered water heaters provided hot water, and plenty of ambient light from the compound came into the bedroom through the unshaded windows, but the bathrooms got very dark once the sun had gone down. Tara didn’t care, but Serena would.