Moonbow

by Sheila Hollinghead

  He shot her a quick glance. “I didn’t know. To me this world just didn’t make sense without God. I rented a room from a Christian couple. It took a year or so before I began listening to their teaching. But the evidence was so overwhelming, I had to believe.”

  “Evidence?” Baloney had been fed to him and he had devoured it. He'd been brainwashed.

  “Yes. Evidence. I can get you some books on the subject when we... well, whenever I can.” This time his eyes fastened on hers with a burning intensity.

  Her breathing quickened. “Sure,” she managed. She could not tear her eyes from his deep blue ones. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  It took a moment for the voice behind them to penetrate. She looked around, feeling dazed. Gisa's heart leapt to her throat.

  A strange man stood within their camping area.

  RAYDEN FELT GISA move closer to him, but his gaze remained riveted on the man.

  He rose to give the man a brief handshake. Gisa stood and wrapped her arms around herself as if chilled. Rayden stepped closer to Gisa, so close their arms touched.

  “Good morning,” he said, not smiling. The man had entered their area unannounced, and Rayden didn’t like it. A scent emanated from the man—perhaps some type of cologne? Rayden swiped his palm against his pants leg in a vain effort to remove the smell wafting up from his skin. Hopefully, the man didn’t notice.

  “Howdy.” The man grinned broadly, his eyes twinkling. “See from your tags you folks are from Alabama.”

  The man was tall, taller than Rayden by two or three inches. And he had tanned skin. Light brown hair flowed around his shoulders with highlights shining in the morning sun. His eyes were the same golden brown as his hair and his skin only slightly lighter. His white teeth gleamed in the bright sun, providing the only contrast. Rayden sought to repress a shudder. The man was dressed in green khakis and matching shirt, almost uniform looking. And very strange at a campsite in this heat.

  Rayden cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. We live outside of Birmingham. Where do you hail from?”

  “I'm from Alabama also. Monroeville.” The man positively beamed. His eyes were hooded as if he were high.

  “Harper Lee’s hometown,” Gisa said. Her voice sounded strained.

  “Ralph Stone.” He held his long-fingered hand out to Gisa.

  She barely touched his hand with hers before withdrawing it. When she clasped Rayden’s arm, he felt her tremble.

  “James and Pam Hudson,” Rayden said. His uneasiness increased. What was it about this man that caused his unease? Except for his strange coloring, he didn't look much different from anyone else. But to cross over into another camper's area was poor etiquette. Perhaps he was a new camper, someone who had inadvertently wandered into their space?

  No, it was more than that. The way he looked at Gisa, appraising her with narrowed eyes. Rayden didn't like it at all. He wanted to throw his arm across Gisa, push her back, punch this guy in the face. His knuckles positively tingled with the need to do so. He flexed his fingers.

  The man flashed another smile, making his eyes crinkle. “Nice meeting you folks.” His words were slightly slurred as if he had been drinking. “Hope to be seeing you again.”

  “That’ll be great.” Rayden made an effort to smile before the man moved away. The man seemed friendly enough, but Rayden felt as if he were mocking them, especially him. His voice had a hint of a challenge in it. Or, was that all Rayden's imagination? Could he be the man with the cigarette who had watched them that night? No, Ralph Stone was of a slimmer build, he was almost certain, and didn't reek of cigarettes. That other guy was probably just a camper as he had first thought. This guy, though, was a different story. Ralph Stone had to be part of Die Auserwählten.

  Stone turned once to wave at them. Gisa and Rayden both stood rooted to the spot until he was out of sight.

  Rayden placed his hand over Gisa's. “Gisa?”

  She still held to his arm, her nails digging into his flesh. He tapped her hand lightly.

  She startled. “What?” She turned her face up to him, her eyes clearing.

  “We’ve got to go. Now.” He gently pried her fingers from his arm. A sense of urgency seized him.

  “What? Go where?” Her eyes looked at him in confusion.

  “We’re leaving.” He strode towards the RV, gathering their few outside possessions as he went.

  “Do you know him?” she asked. She remained in the same spot, her sky blue eyes following him, her golden hair shimmering in the sun.

  What had she asked him? He had to shake his head, clear it before he answered. “Never met him.”

  She shuddered. “Let’s go.”

  As she moved forward, Rayden breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Should I tell the Pierce’s we’re leaving?” Gisa asked.

  He shook his head. “Too risky.” He began unhooking the water connection.

  He had been foolish to trust the Pierces, foolish to stay here this long. Did they report to Die Auserwählten? He didn't know. It didn't matter. Die Auserwählten had found them. Of that he was sure.

  * * *

  Rayden drove, heading west, Gisa in the passenger seat. Their eyes scanned the roads for anyone following, but they saw no one. When they stopped for gas, Rayden lay on the hard concrete to check the underside of the RV. And then he climbed the ladder to the top. He searched diligently but didn't discover any tracking devices.

  Now that he had distanced himself from the perceived danger and saw no one following, he wondered if he was being paranoid. Why did he think the man was part of Die Auserwählten? Because he smelled funny, dressed funny, looked funny? Lots of people fit that bill.

  But Gisa had felt it too. Whatever “it” was. Maybe they both were paranoid. Why would the man have alerted them to his presence and then do nothing? Rayden leaned against the side of the RV, waiting for Gisa who had gone into the service station. What was it about Stone? He was just a man.

  Rayden raked his fingers through his hair. Where to now? How could he keep Gisa safe? He had no idea how Die Auserwählten could have found them in New Mexico—unless it had been the Pierces? It was hard to imagine such a nice old couple being part of such an organization.

  But if they were...and if this Stone guy was also, should they ditch the RV? But that would mean they would have no other means of transportation. How far would they get on foot? He shook his head. This kind of thinking was getting him nowhere.

  He shrugged his shoulders. He'd just keep a sharp eye out, and if he saw any sign of anything out of the ordinary, they'd get rid of the RV. Until then, he would assume they were safe.

  Yet a lump of fear settled in his stomach.

  Gisa emerged from the gas station and held out a cup of coffee. Their hands touched briefly.

  “Ready?” She bit her bottom lip, looking flustered.

  He nodded but took a look around the flat land surrounding them. He yearned for trees, for the safety and comfort of trees. Head back east? The east he knew? Or head west into unknown country. He hesitated a moment, his hand on the door handle, then opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  GISA GLANCED COVERTLY at Rayden. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his veins were clearly visible. The rays of the sun shone through the windshield. She flipped down the visor.

  Why had Stone scared her so? Because Rayden had been afraid? Why was he? Hadn’t he been the one to tell her to trust people? She shivered. That man had been creepy. So weird looking. And when he shook her hand, his had felt like a dead fish. And that horrid smell! Did he actually think he smelled good? What kind of cologne had he been using? It would gag a maggot, as her Grandpop used to say. She had washed her hands a dozen times, yet a faint scent still clung to them.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, just to quell the fear threatening to choke her.

  He turned his head and regarded her for a second. “Right now, I don’t know.” He paused. “Do you have any suggestions
?”

  “No.” She laid her forehead against the coolness of the window. “But I still want an abortion.” She straightened and threw a glance at him.

  "I think our safety is more important at this point. We need to get as far away from New Mexico as possible." He didn’t look at her.

  She studied his profile. His shaggy hair that had become shaggier during their week at the campsite. She shifted her position. “I think we're safe. It doesn't look like anyone is following us. And I’ve been thinking. I might as well have the abortion now. Even if the baby is David’s, I can always try again when Die Auserwählten have forgotten about me. Several embryos were frozen and are still available.”

  “That’s not going to happen. They won’t forget about you.” He rubbed his hand over his unshaven face.

  Her spine stiffened. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’ve told you. They chose you to have this child. Why? I don’t know." He glanced at her. "Besides, they may have destroyed everything at the clinic.” He smashed his hand against the rim of the steering wheel, and his voice rose. “The lives we lived are over, Gisa. We can’t go back.”

  Tears trembled on her lashes. When he shot her another glance, his lips pressed firmly together, she could no longer hold back. The tears flowed down her face. She tried to staunch the flow to no avail.

  He pulled into an empty parking lot and turned off the vehicle. Her tears blinded her; her sobbing blotted out all sounds, all awareness of anything around her. Why had this happened to her? What was she going to do? If she aborted, all would be lost. But it wasn't her child or David's! She knew it now, perhaps had known it all along.

  The opening of her door startled her. She looked up into Rayden's face.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, gulping down a sob.

  He reached in and placed her hand in his. His hand was warm and dry, and his strength seeped into her. She allowed him to pull her out until they stood facing one another. He wrapped his arms around her, and she cried into his shoulder while he stroked her hair.

  With a shuddering breath, she pushed back to peer into his face. He brushed her tears away with a tender touch. Even with the tumult of emotion crashing through her, her skin tingled every place his fingers trailed.

  She pulled back to escape the sensation and searched his eyes. “Why? Why did they choose me?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice was gentle, his lips agonizingly close.

  She wanted to remain like this, in his arms, safe and secure, enshrouded where nothing could ever harm her. “If I have an abortion, at least they’d quit following me?” She said it tentatively, as more of a question than a statement.

  He sighed. “I told you that’s not going to happen.”

  “Why? I need to know why.”

  "Maybe you know?"

  She shook her head again. “I don't know! I’m nobody. They probably chose me because I’m young and healthy. There’re hundreds of other girls just like me. If I abort, that’ll be the end of it.”

  He pulled her into his arms again. “Are you sure you want to do this? Even if it means losing what could be David’s child?”

  She stiffened. “Yes, and I believe you now. It’s not David’s child, and I want to abort it.” The brown man had fully convinced her. "You can't stop me.” Technically he could. He held the money. She held her breath.

  He sighed. “No. I can't make your decisions for you.” He released her, and his lips thinned in a sign of disapproval.

  With an effort, she forced herself to move away from his warmth and climb back in the RV, slamming the door shut.

  He got in and fastened his seatbelt but made no move to crank the RV and didn't look at her.

  She turned to face him. “All right. Not a problem then. We have a plan."

  He shrugged. "I wouldn't say it's not a problem." A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  She glared at him. How could her emotions swing so wildly? She was pregnant but that didn't account for all the emotions he elicited. One moment, she longed for his kisses; the next she was ready to strangle him.

  He scratched the stubble on his chin again. "Don't you understand that this is a baby?” His voice had been calm, but his hands sought the steering wheel and tightened.

  “So what? It’s not my baby.”

  His eyes reflected the sun’s rays, and they grew even more liquid. “Would any child actually be yours? Have you ever read 'On Children' by Kahlil Gibran?” When she shook her head, his eyes became glazed as if he saw something she could not see. His voice took on a hypnotic quality. “Children do not solely belong to parents but instead to life. They come into being because life longs for itself." He threw her a sideways glance. "I can't remember all of it. One part says that parents are bows in the hands of God. God uses the parents to send forth their children, like living arrows." He paused and threw her a glance. "Probably Gibran was thinking of Psalm 127. It says: Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth."

  Her voice hardened. “I'm not interested in anything from the Bible.”

  He didn’t answer, and she sighed loudly. She felt like thumping him. She spoke through clenched teeth. “You're telling me about a poem dealing with God. I told you I was an atheist.”

  “You said agnostic.”

  “Whatever.” She waved her arm as if brushing away a cobweb.

  “Gibran was not your typical Christian.”

  “Who cares what he was? Listen, I wanted a child, my husband’s child. I don’t want this child.” Her temple began to throb. Anger surged through her. How could she have ever been attracted to Rayden? “Why do you care so much? I have these weird ‘chosen ones’ chasing me, and they will keep chasing me until I get rid of this thing. And you don’t want me to abort it? That sounds a little crazy, Rayden. Maybe you’re part of Die Auserwählten!” What was wrong with this guy? He just didn’t sound crazy, he was crazy. She would be better off with the brown man.

  His knuckles tightened until they whitened, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “I am not part of Die Auserwählten.”

  His anger crashed over her like a wave. She squirmed in her seat, her own anger dissipating. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But I don’t know why it doesn’t bother you that the fetus is a clone. Do you really think your God will give him a soul?”

  He relaxed his grip, and his face smoothed. “I’m sure God has. He wouldn’t send a child to earth soulless.”

  Gisa took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her anger building again. These right-wingers. They were always so arrogant. Thinking they could control what happened inside a woman’s body. “We’re not going to agree.” She threw her shoulders back. “It’s my body, and I’ll make the decision.”

  He released his hands briefly from the steering wheel and raised them as if in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll take you to get an abortion if that’s what you truly want.”

  “It is.”

  She actually heard his teeth grind together. So what? If he didn’t like it, tough. He would just have to deal with it.

  She laced her fingers together and tried to speak calmly. “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know,” he snapped.

  “Wake me when we get there.” Gisa unlatched her seatbelt, her fingers shaking, and climbed into the back.

  * * *

  When she awoke, iron-black clouds obscured the sky. She climbed back to her seat by Rayden, careful not to look at him. She was ashamed of arguing with him. Even if it was his fault. Instead she remembered the warmth of his arms, the tenderness of his touch.

  Water rippled across the windshield, and the wipers swished steadily. Large raindrops rapped on the roof.

  “Where are we?” she asked softly.

  “Colorado. Denver is a couple of hours away. We should be able to find an RV park near there.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “Colorado.” Gisa rolled the word in her mouth almost tasting it.

  “There's an a
bortion clinic near Denver.”

  Gisa decided to ignore that for now. “How long has it been raining?”

  “Twenty minutes or so.”

  Gisa studied his profile. A tightness at the corners of his mouth and his hunched shoulders conveyed his displeasure with her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead as if his head ached.

  Gisa turned away from him and rolled her forehead against the cool pane of the window. They rode in silence with only the sound of the rain and swoosh of the windshield wipers.

  After a couple of hours, Rayden turned into the parking lot of a shopping mall.

  “Why are we stopping?” She tried to make her voice pleasant.

  “I’ve been driving for five hours straight. I need to stretch my legs.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?” His anger seemed too much to bear. She felt drained and only remembered the warmth of his hand, his strength.

  “No. I’m going to get something from the store. Do you want to go in?” His voice was devoid of anger yet also devoid of the warmth it had held just a short while ago, when she had been wrapped in his arms.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m just going to stay here and fix a sandwich. We’ve got a few bottles of water left.”

  He gave a curt nod in her direction and opened the door. She watched him walk through the doors of the mall before she went to the back to make a sandwich. The nap had not refreshed her. Instead, she felt drained and disoriented.

  She had nothing to occupy her as she waited for Rayden to return, and the minutes trickled by. She had just made up her mind to go and search for him when he returned, carrying two bags.

  He handed her one without speaking.

  “Thank you,” she said automatically. She peeked inside and pulled out a Kindle and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Rayden.”

  “You’re welcome. Figured it would be better than lugging books around. I loaded some books on it already, and it's charged, ready to go.”

  Gisa turned it on and scrolled through the thirty books, The Prophet among them.