“So I guess you had a good night,” said the man to his left. He was a weaselly little punk named Jeremiah who also worked the sheds in the morning, and Jake would happily have smacked the leer right off his face, but he didn’t have time to be stuck back in the hole for another three days. He chewed and swallowed the last of the toast he’d taken, counting backward from twenty.
“You should get a woman of your own,” he said at last. “I highly recommend it.”
Jeremiah made a dismissive sound. “Why settle for one? Twice as many women as men here. I get different ones pretty much every week.”
How desperate—or drugged—did these women have to be? Of course, he couldn’t ask Jeremiah that. But there was one thing he could ask about.
“You take them back to your bunk? Isn’t that kind of lacking in privacy?”
“Nah, there are places you can find. Mostly, the women are pretty much up for anything, which you might not expect given the whole mother-earth vibe. Grab a couple of blankets and hike out to the orchard, or use one of the workrooms that’s unoccupied.”
Were the women “up for anything” because the drugs increased their desire? Was that why Tara had invited him into her bed? Was any of it real for her? When she got off the damned drugs, would she feel he’d violated her?
His stomach heaved, and he took a gulp of coffee to force his breakfast back down.
“Buyer’s remorse?” asked Jeremiah, misinterpreting Jake’s expression. “Don’t worry about it. You get tired of her, you can trade her in. Happens all the time around here.”
Like used cars. But the horn sounded, signaling the time to clear their plates, so Jake didn’t have to answer aloud.
He dropped his dishes in the tray and stepped outside without looking for Tara. How was he supposed to face her? What the hell had he done?
He drew in a deep breath and for the first time noticed the thunderheads gathering. The sky had been completely clear when they’d left their cabin, but during his sermon Owen had gone on about the displeasure of the Powers and how it would show in the world, so he figured the guy had a weather radio somewhere. What would he have said caused the storm if Kevin hadn’t chosen this morning to leave?
In the drying shed, the normally dim light was decreased even further by the thickening cloud cover outside.
“Gets much darker,” he observed to his partner at the beam after a few minutes of work, “I’m liable to cut off something I shouldn’t.”
“Yeah,” the guy said. “We get a few like this every year. Once the rain really starts, work’s over.
People generally hang out in the dining hall because there’s electricity, so there’s light. Of course, once in a while, a bad one will take out the electricity, too.” As if to underscore his words, thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the shed.
And wouldn’t a blackout just do wonders for the investigation? Jake needed both power and an Internet connection, because while darkness might improve his ability to sneak around unnoticed, he wasn’t naïve enough to believe they wouldn’t have backup power on the security systems.
A crashing boom rolled into a second and then a third. The pervasive and distinctive odor of ozone filled the air. An ululating wail sounded across the compound, and the men dropped what they were doing and rushed to the door.
“What’s up?” Jake asked, following along.
“Fire,” said one of the men at the very moment Jake smelled smoke.
One of the women’s dormitories was alight, flames licking at the wood and shooting into the sky.
Jake stood back and let the others do their thing. In emergency situations, extra hands were apt to get in the way rather than assist. The ground trembled beneath him, lightning split the sky, and rain came down in thick, heavy drops. The storm had arrived in earnest.
A fire truck arrived from the direction of the main house, Samuel in the driver’s seat. He and Aaron set up a system by which the truck drew in water from a small pond at the edge of the property, while three other men unwrapped and unrolled hoses they fitted to the truck and to each other until multiple lines of water were coming out.
One of the men grabbed Jake to back him up on a line, and he plunged forward, the hose a live, muscular serpent in his hands. Smoke billowed out from the building, making breathing difficult. None of the men wore masks, nor had they changed into any kind of protective gear. Samuel and Aaron stayed back, manning the pump itself, and none of the men went inside the building. But even so, the damned fire was hot on Jake’s skin. He could only imagine how much worse it was for the man in front of him holding the nozzle.
The wind had picked up and water flew everywhere—from the hoses, from the sky—along with smoke and ash and sparks and cinders. Still, by the time the fire was out, the dormitory was gone. Most of the energy had gone into saving the buildings on either side. The storm still raged—how long had they been out there?—but despite the cool rain, a thick shroud of smoke hung in the air.
Everyone was soaked through, but even when the hoses had been rolled up and carried off and the engine put away in the garage behind the main house, men still hung around in small groups, talking. A number of them looked anxious, as if they’d like a cigarette, a joint, a shot of tequila.
Too much adrenaline. Too much testosterone. The women had remained inside during the blaze, but surely they’d stopped their work to watch the fire devour their home. Where would the dozen women sleep now? In the main house? Such a thing could be good or bad. Good, because upsets in routine always left openings, but bad because, with extra people in the space, security would be tightened.
The horn blew loud and long. Time for lunch.
“Better get cleaned up,” the man beside him said. “Even after a fire, the leader expects respect.”
I’ll just bet he does. But he took the advice and jogged back to the cabin for a change of clothes.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, Jake decided more than a new shirt was in order. His face was black and streaked and pocked with red marks where bits of burning ash had landed, and he could smell his own sweat under the odor of the smoke on his clothes. He hopped into the shower and scrubbed away the grime in record time, then pulled on clean clothes and headed for the dining hall, hoping the power hadn’t gone out.
At the sight of the cold, fluorescent lights glowing from the dining hall, Jake relaxed a fraction. But despite the stability of the power grid, the Chosen were restless, the noise level in the hall higher than he’d heard it even when Kevin had bucked the system by leaving without a private conference.
He searched for Tara and finally saw her in a corner with her pregnant friend Aurora. Her eyes beckoned, and he made his way toward her, catching snatches of conversations as he passed.
“The Powers are angry.”
“The Leader says we need to . . . ”
“Maybe I should leave, too.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
Tara greeted him with a chaste kiss on the cheek that nonetheless made her blush and filled him with entirely inappropriate desire.
“You two are so cute,” said Aurora. “It’s obvious how much in love you are.”
Was it? Were they? Jake had never been in love. Until recently, he would have scoffed at the idea that the emotion—at least as portrayed in pop culture—even existed. But then his friend Lucy, the most relentlessly practical person he’d ever met, had fallen for a man almost as jaded as Jake himself. And Ethan seemed equally besotted.
Whatever lay between him and Tara, he wasn’t prepared to label it. A healthy dose of lust, to be certain, but she also incited a long-dormant protective instinct, And something else, some ineffable tug, like an elastic around his chest that only relaxed entirely near her. When she’d lain with him in the infirmary, it was as if the bits and pieces of a puzzle he’d struggled with for years had slid into
place.
Was that love? He’d loved his sister, but it had brought him nothing but pain. He loved his parents, but found no peace in their presence. No sooner did he sit down to dinner with them than his brain began working to figure out how long he had to stay.
His musings went no further as Owen Stephenson entered the room and the Chosen scrambled to find seats. When they’d settled, Owen raised his hands and spoke.
“We have seen evidence of the Powers’ displeasure. But we know we are loved. None of the Chosen suffered injuries today, and in my communion meditation, I came to understand that Their anger is spent. The wind and rain shall pass, and we will rebuild.”
In other words, this is Texas and the storm will blow out as quickly as it blew in. But Owen wasn’t finished.
“This afternoon, we will remain in the dining hall. My apostles and I will circulate among you. If any of you are troubled, have concerns about today’s events, feel free to discuss them with us.”
A little time with their shepherd. How nice. But Jake’s agenda didn’t include an afternoon hanging around the hall. He needed to get back to the computer, to tell Ethan what they’d discovered in case Kevin didn’t get in touch with him.
While the Chosen assigned to the kitchen cleared the tubs of dirty dishes and silverware, several others went to the counter along one wall and opened the cabinets beneath. Board games, cards, and art supplies filled the space. The Chosen played as they seemed to do everything: earnestly and with devotion. He’d never seen so much attention paid to Monopoly. Even Chutes and Ladders became utterly engrossing when presented as a rare treat.
He saw Owen talking to Aurora and made his way through the crowd to his side. Tara noticed his direction and abandoned her group to join him and slide her arm around his waist.
“Plan?” she whispered, her mouth so close to his ear she might be kissing him.
In response, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I need to talk to the Leader,” he said. “You can go back to your group.” But he didn’t let go, and she understood the precedence of the nonverbal cues over his words.
“No, no. I’ll come too, if it’s okay.”
“Of course.” He pressed his lips to her temple, trying not to be distracted by the scent of her, by how right she felt glued to his side.
Aurora grinned at them as they approached. “Hey, you guys.”
“Hey,” Jake said, acid burning through his gut. What the hell had a nice kid like Aurora ever done to be drugged, possibly to death? Tara’s arm tightened around him, and he realized he’d gone tense. “Do you mind if we speak to the Leader for a minute?”
“Sure.” With a little nod, Aurora hurried away.
Owen blinked slowly, his pupils dilated despite the institutional brightness of the room. Did he indulge in his own recreational pharmaceuticals? “What can I do for you, Jacob? Serena?”
“I know you have the Chosen gathered with you and the apostles to calm us, but this many people, this small a space, it doesn’t work for me. Might I be allowed to go about my usual afternoon task of working on the website?”
“I suppose that would be fine.” Owen studied Tara, and Jake held perfectly still. Their embrace could work for him or against him. “And on such a troubling day, there is no need to separate the two of you. Take Serena with you.”
Jake had a pretty good idea what Owen and the rest of his Peeping Tom buddies hoped would happen in front of the office security cams. And he’d indulge them, within limits. It would allow him to position Tara so she blocked the camera pointed at the computer.
“Oh, thank you, Leader,” said Tara, all but batting her eyelashes at the man. “I can’t wait to see what Jacob is doing for the Chosen. I know he’ll be able to spread your message further, to all the people who need to receive it.”
“It is important work,” said Owen. “The digitalization of the world has isolated so many. It is only fitting the same tools should be used to spread the truth of the Powers and their desires for human community.”
• • •
IN THE OFFICE, Jake tugged Tara into his arms and covered her lips with his own. Cameras, she reminded herself. It’s just an act. But her treacherous heart beat faster, and she wound her fingers through his hair. She wrapped one leg around his lean hips, and he groaned. Hands at her waist, he lifted her to sit on the edge of the desk, pushing the computer out of the way. His tongue delved deep into her mouth for long minutes, stroking, sliding, tempting. At last, he pulled away.
“You sit right there,” he said, his voice raspy. “I have work to do. The Leader didn’t send us in here to fool around.”
“I know. But could you at least explain what you’re doing? I always felt left out before when you got involved with your computer stuff.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I did. But when you’re in the ones and zeros, you don’t hear me.” She allowed a tiny bit of whine to creep into her voice, and Jake’s lips twitched.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He booted up the computer and opened some windows. “So this is a server. It’s where all the files that run the Chosen’s website live. I can edit them directly on the server, but it’s safer to download them, make changes, and re-upload.”
“What kind of changes do you want to make?”
Jake began a mind-numbing description of work he was pretending to do as his fingers flew over the keys, opening the secret site he and Ethan had developed. He installed the software he’d told her about and, even watching, she wouldn’t have realized it but for the fact that, beneath her gaze, he crossed his fingers.
“You know, the Leader should consider a Facebook page. I mean, I just stumbled onto the community because of my friendship with Pearl. And that only happened because I wound up here in town after . . . well, after. So many people could benefit from the Leader’s wisdom.”
Jake shrugged. “One thing at a time. This site is a mess, so let’s get it as optimized as possible first.”
“What does that mean?”
And he was off again. This time, beneath the coding for the homepage of the Chosen, which Tara vaguely understood, he opened a document showing nothing but a string of senseless numbers and letters.
A message from Ethan and Lucy. And a long one.
“Fuck,” Jake said after a few minutes of silence.
“Jacob!”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I think there’s a loophole here that might mean our customers’ credit card information hasn’t been transmitted securely. It would be bad if the Chosen got a rep for not caring for their customers’ data.” He checked the computer’s clock, keyed in the date and time, and then began composing a coded reply.
He was deep in it when a floorboard outside the door squeaked. He shut the window and concentrated on an equally incomprehensible—at least to her—document.
“How’s it going?” asked Samuel as he entered.
“Eh,” Jake replied. “There’s a bunch of stray code in here that looks like a loophole. I’m trying to figure out if I can safely close it.”
“Show me,” Samuel said, shoving Tara off the desk to lean over Jake’s shoulder.
“It’s right here.” Jake pointed at the screen, and Tara held her breath. Did Samuel understand the data on the monitor? Was there an actual problem to be recognized?
Apparently he did, because he leaned in even closer. “What is that doing there? Do you know where it’s storing or sending the data?”
“Not yet. I’m going to have to run through all the server scripts. I’d like to say your old computer guy just didn’t know what he was doing, but this is deliberate and well hidden.”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying John was stealing from us.”
“No. I’m saying he made it possible for someone, possibly him, possibly a friend of his, to steal from your customers. Maybe it
was a fail-safe, a back door he installed and never used.”
“Well, find out. I’m going to speak to the Leader.” Samuel grabbed Tara’s arm. “You, come on. Your boyfriend has work to do.”
• • •
All afternoon, Tara waited for Jake to appear from the office, but he remained inside even while the Chosen tidied the dining hall and prepared for dinner. Both Samuel and Aaron went in more than once and came out increasingly grim.
What had Jake told them? Would they trust him more for having uncovered the loophole, or would they believe he’d created it?
As plates were passed down along the long tables, Joy settled in next to Tara. “The apostles seem disturbed.”
The apostles weren’t the only ones. Tara had classified Joy as virtually emotionless, her default position after so long among the Chosen a calm acceptance bordering on catatonia. But in a single day she’d shown her disapproval of Kevin, and now curiosity and nerves.
Perhaps it wasn’t surprising. The Chosen, after all, were pack animals. Humanity in general, despite its evolutionary sophistication, remained prone to herd behavior. The Chosen took their cues from Owen and, in his absence, Samuel, Aaron, Jonas, and Francis. Samuel and Aaron glowered as they moved through the crowd. If they were supposed to provide a calming influence, they were failing.
Odd that neither Jonas nor Francis had been invited into the office conclaves. The greenhouse team had not even gone out that morning due to the weather. Did Samuel and Aaron not trust Francis or Jonas?
“I’m sure the weather has everyone on edge,” she said to Joy. “It must be difficult to feel responsible for so many people, to worry about their happiness and satisfaction.” God, the longer she stayed in the compound, the easier it became to sound as if she were drinking the Kool-Aid. How long before she actually believed the crap she spouted? Even without the drugs, repetition served as reinforcement.
“You are right, of course,” said Joy. She poured herself a cup of tea and handed the pot to Tara. “It is not for us to concern ourselves with the doings of the apostles.”
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