Into the Light (The Light #1)

by Aleatha Romig

  “How did you know to come here? Do you know that this is her?” My anxiety rose with each question, as did the pitch of my voice. “Have you seen her?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her, and I don’t know. I was at the police station and heard the buzz. I tried to reach you, but your phone went to voice mail. I sent you a couple of texts. When you didn’t answer, I took a chance and called Barney. He told me that he’d just told you about this.” Dylan squeezed my hand again. “Like I said, I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Sara

  The moment the nurse left, Jacob wordlessly released my hand, scooted his chair across the floor, and began pacing, his footsteps sounding from near the foot of my bed. I didn’t need to see him to know his mood—his irritation was evident in each stomp. I waited for him to say something about what had just happened. I wanted him to explain who Brother Timothy and Father Gabriel were and what power they possessed. I wanted to know how these men had the right to withhold water from me or anyone else. I wanted to understand the allegations that Brother Timothy mentioned. I needed answers.

  Though it seemed as if Jacob had defended me and my behavior, he’d also lied and answered each question without regard for my response. I wanted to understand why he’d done that. With each strike of his hard-soled shoes that drummed a staccato beat across the tile floor, I sensed his unease as mine grew.

  The rhythm of Jacob’s pacing monopolized my thoughts, playing in a loop with a four-four count: four strides to cross the width of the room, the fourth step containing a scuff—his turn—then four strides back again.

  My mind swirled with theories. Maybe we’d argued before the accident. Maybe he hadn’t sent me out on the icy roads. Each thought increased my anxiety, causing it to rise degree by degree until it neared the boiling point. I imagined the man who continued to pace. The vision I created had blue eyes and a scruffy jaw. I wasn’t sure if that image was my memory returning or an imagined portrait based on the feel of his hands and face.

  Suddenly my heart stilled as a loud knock echoed throughout the room. Pressing my lips together, I cringed at the thought of someone from the Commission returning.

  “I have the ice chips,” the nurse said, with the opening of the door. “Would you like me to feed Sara?”

  Internally I groaned. Again I wasn’t being addressed, only spoken about. After all, I was Sara. Maybe someone can ask me?

  Before I had time to dwell on my lack of autonomy, Jacob replied, “No, give me the cup. I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s my assignment—”

  “Sister, if we hurry before the ice melts, it won’t violate the Commission’s authority. But if the Commission decides that ice is a fluid, it’ll be my responsibility, not yours. I asked for ice and you brought it to me, not Sara.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I won’t mention it.”

  “But if it’s mentioned,” he said with authority, “you gave the ice to me.”

  “Yes, Brother. Do you need anything else?”

  “Sara’s medication. Dr. Newton said her body heals best while she sleeps.”

  “I’ll get it, but first I’ll give you some time with your ice. The sleep medication works very fast.”

  Seconds later the door clicked shut and, judging by the silence, I believed the nurse had left. Suddenly everything I’d wanted to say and learn dissolved under my growing need for the moisture of the ice chips. Unconsciously my tongue darted to my chapped, cracked lips as I waited for the cool wetness Jacob controlled.

  Finally I heard Jacob scoot the chair beside my bed closer. In my mind I’d created images of my tiny world. In those images the cushion of the chair where Jacob sat was covered in plastic or vinyl. I didn’t know the color but had determined the material by the hiss it made as he lowered his weight.

  Jacob brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear that I hadn’t realized I’d shed. I turned away from his touch. This wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on my reasoning, but deep down I didn’t believe I was someone who cried or allowed others to control my every move. Jacob pulled my chin back toward him. I waited for his words of support and encouragement. They didn’t come. Instead he simply demanded, “Open your mouth.”

  The bristling of my spine told me to fight, but if I did, I wouldn’t get the moisture my body craved. After only a moment’s hesitation, I did as he instructed. My reward for obeying came in the form of a tiny sliver of ice. It wasn’t much, but the cold moisture felt like rain on the dry cracked earth. Closing my lips, I savored the clean, fresh goodness sliding down my throat.

  “Again.”

  I did as he said, wanting more: more ice, more water, more of his deep voice. I was tired of the silence, and judging by Jacob’s earlier pacing, he had things he wanted to say. I waited, but other than the sound of his directives, the stillness lingered. Over and over, I opened my mouth, and each time he fed me chips of ice. Soon we fell into a rhythm, and even his directives disappeared. Each time, I’d swallow and then immediately open my lips, unashamedly greedy for the next piece of heavenly coolness. As my throat numbed, I wondered if I’d ever enjoyed frozen water as much as I did at this moment. My new obsession with devouring the entire cup superseded my wish to hear him speak. My concerns temporarily disappeared into a calming fog as his fingers brushed my lips and I contentedly took what he gave.

  Suddenly the door opened and our forged connection shattered. I quickly closed my mouth as Jacob’s chair moved. In those few seconds, my heart skipped a beat, and I feared the sound of Brother Timothy’s voice. Instead I heard Jacob speak to the nurse, calling her by name, Sister Raquel.

  As they discussed my medications and she tugged on my IV, I tried to recall all the things I’d wanted to say. I wanted to tell Jacob that I didn’t remember the accident, the Commission, The Light, or even him. I wanted answers, to know more about us, who we were, and why we’d come to be somewhere that felt so wrong.

  My questions were on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t ask them. It wasn’t only because he’d told me not to talk; it was as if their urgency was fading. It took all my might to hold on to them. Fatigue hit me like a freight train, causing Jacob’s and Sister Raquel’s words to slur and my limbs to grow increasingly heavy. In no time at all, my tiny, unfamiliar world floated away.

  As I woke slowly from a deep sleep, my mind lingered in that space where the world was both a dream and a reality. It wasn’t until I tried to open my eyes and found only darkness that everything came rushing back. Everything . . . that word normally encompassed so much. But now, to me, it meant only recalling what had happened the day before.

  My name is Sara. My husband’s name is Jacob. According to him, our last name is Adams. I’ve been in an accident and am in a hospital.

  No matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember anything before the previous day. Have I blocked it all out? Why? And why do my recent memories seem wrong, like they belong to someone else?

  I lay still and a smile graced my lips as I recalled the previous night’s ice chips. I couldn’t recall Jacob, yet his protectiveness filled me with an unfamiliar sense of warmth. Then the sound of the door brushing over the tile brought me back to the present.

  “Brother Jacob?” a female voice whispered.

  I waited, wondering if it was a nurse who was speaking. A few seconds later, when the woman repeated Jacob’s name, the chair moved against the floor and my bed creaked. Jacob must have been sleeping with his head on the mattress.

  “Sister Lilith, why are you here?”

  Lilith? The name sounded familiar to me.

  “The Assembly will convene soon. I was sent to stay with Sara.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been summoned.”

  “Summoned now? Surely they understand I need to stay here.”

  Summoned? That sounded so ominous.

  “I’m sure they’ll discuss it with you. Each one of us has a job that must be completed
. If one person doesn’t fulfill their assignment, it affects the entire community. Not only has Sara’s job gone undone for the last week, but so has yours. I’m sure you can guess whose job the Commission views as the most crucial. It was one thing while she lay unconscious, but now she’s—”

  “Now she’s injured, unable to speak or get up. Dr. Newton hasn’t been in since she woke. Instead her energy was used up on your husband’s visit.”

  Husband? That was why her name sounded familiar—Brother Timothy had mentioned Lilith when he was here . . . had it been the day before? She must’ve been in that crowd of people.

  Jacob continued, “I understand the importance of my job, but I’ve been in touch with Brother Micah. No delivery or pickup has gone undone . . .”

  His determination increased with each sentence as he continued his defense. Sister Lilith spoke firmly but Jacob held his own. I rolled my shoulders and straightened my neck. With the volume of their conversation, there was no way I would’ve stayed asleep, not without medication. The last thing I gleaned from their conversation was something Jacob said about me eating. I pressed my lips together and waited for her response.

  “Father Gabriel”—Sister Lilith’s voice softened—“knows what’s best. We must trust him, even when we don’t understand his ways. Only he knows the plans and what’s best for the community. If Sister Sara purposely chose to disobey—”

  Jacob interrupted, “She didn’t. I’ve testified. You were here yesterday. You heard Sara’s responses to Timothy’s questions.”

  “Brother Timothy and we heard your responses,” she replied. “We’ve yet to hear hers. They’re expecting you at Assembly. I’m not privy to know the thoughts of the Commission, but I’d assume that after Assembly your petition for Sara’s nutrients will be heard. I’m confident that without your presence, it won’t. Truly, as with all things, the decision is yours.”

  Jacob was part of this, part of some assembly. What does that mean? And how can she threaten me but say that the decision is his?

  For the first time since the room cleared the night before, Jacob gathered my hand in his. “Sara, can you hear me?”

  I squeezed his hand once.

  “You won’t be alone. Sister Lilith is here. I’ll contact Dr. Newton and tell him not to examine you until I return. Do you understand?”

  I squeezed his hand.

  “I’m also going to call Brother Luke. I believe he’ll allow Sister Elizabeth to come and sit with you. Above all, you must rest your vocal cords.” His tone turned more empathic. “No matter what anyone says, it’s important that you don’t speak. It doesn’t matter who it is. As your husband, I forbid speaking. Is that clear?”

  Though his demand seemed archaic, there was something more in Jacob’s voice than a dictatorial directive. Strategically hidden between the words was a warning, one I planned to heed. He wasn’t so much restricting my speech as he was talking about whom I could trust. Could this be the reason for my accident? Were these people dangerous? My questions continued as I squeezed his hand.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then we’ll learn what Dr. Newton has to say.”

  I had the distinct feeling that there was no love lost between Sister Lilith and my husband. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t care much for her either. Yet, for some reason, I felt differently about the Elizabeth he’d mentioned. There was something about her name that felt warm.

  With a cursory squeeze of my hand, Jacob was gone.

  As Sister Lilith moved across the room, the click of her shoes was different from Jacob’s or even Sister Raquel’s. After hearing her take a few more steps, I decided she was wearing high heels. Resting quietly against the pillow, I hoped again that this was just some long nightmare; however, it wasn’t. With each passing moment it became more obvious why I’d blocked my memories of this life. It was simply too bizarre.

  Sister Lilith’s footsteps stopped as someone new entered the room.

  “Good morning, Sister Sara.”

  I recognized Raquel’s voice, and my cheeks rose. Finally I was being addressed directly.

  While Sister Raquel moved the bedsheets, she spoke with Sister Lilith. The more I listened, the more I liked Raquel. She was respectful of whatever power Brother Timothy’s wife held, yet at the same time she was efficient with her job, explaining her duties and what we’d be doing for the next thirty or so minutes. According to the conversations I’d overheard, I’d been unconscious for nearly a week. With my second day of consciousness, I wanted to move—but mostly I was thrilled to learn I’d be able to shower. Politely, Sister Raquel asked Sister Lilith to step into the hall. The awkward silence that followed had me picturing some sort of standoff. I don’t know if that really happened, but thankfully, the door finally opened and closed and Raquel sighed.

  Every part of my body ached from my injuries, inactivity, and lack of nutrients. Sister Raquel’s voice reassured me as she talked me through each task. Before I could leave the bed, there were tubes to be removed. I had no idea what they were giving me through the IV. Jacob said it fed me, but I suspected it was delivering medication too. Once I was unattached, Sister Raquel urged me to the edge of the bed. Even sitting on my own took effort.

  “Don’t put any weight on your bad leg. Eventually you’ll have a walking cast. This isn’t it. We’ll use a wheelchair to get you around for now.”

  She directed me to move from the bed to the chair and then rolled me to what I assumed was a bathroom. Without strength or sight, I was totally at her mercy. Throughout her instructions, she asked if I was all right or comfortable. Remembering Jacob’s warning, I only moved my head. The first time I did, I expected the throbbing from the day before, but it didn’t return. Maybe I was healing.

  Now if only my memories would come back.

  Sister Raquel removed something that felt like tape from my side, explaining that I had at least one broken rib. Then she fashioned some kind of covering for my cast that fastened tightly on my upper thigh. As she secured the material, I envisioned plastic wrap surrounding my leg. To prevent my leg from bearing weight, she directed my hand to a handle above my head. I guessed it was suspended from the ceiling. Holding tight, I was supposed to navigate on my one good leg; however, my underused muscles rebelled, cramping with each exhausting step.

  I began to wonder if it was worth the effort until I sat on a plastic bench, she turned on the shower, and warm water rained upon my skin and hair. The clean scent of soap and shampoo filled my senses, washing away the musty remains of the hospital bed and tubes. Without thinking about the consequences, I opened my lips, filling my mouth with the water that continued to rain.

  “Not too much, Sara; it wouldn’t be good for you,” Sister Raquel whispered, reminding me of the Commission’s decree.

  After I rinsed off, she helped me out of the shower and dried my skin. She wrapped me in a soft robe as droplets of water continued to fall from my hair, and she said, “Your hair is quite pretty.”

  I contemplated her comment and realized I couldn’t picture my own hair. By the way it clung to my back, I knew it was long, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t envision the color.

  Would I even know my own reflection? I was lost in thoughts of other things I’d forgotten when Raquel helped me into the wheelchair, handed me a toothbrush, and directed my hand toward a cup of water. Unsure what to do with the water, I hesitated, not knowing if it was a test, or if she wanted me to drink.

  “If you’re all right in here, I’m going to leave you alone for a moment while you brush your teeth. I need to go back in your room and change your sheets. When I come back, I’ll bring a fresh nightgown.”

  I nodded. The little bit of water I’d consumed in the shower had merely whetted my thirst. I wanted more. As soon as I sensed that Raquel was gone, I drained the cup and hastily refilled it. At the rush of the running water, a cold chill tingled down my spine. I remembered Sister Lilith and felt sure that if she heard, she wouldn’t hesitat
e to reprimand me for my blatant disregard of the Commission’s decree. Nevertheless my thirst prevailed as I drank another cup of water before brushing my teeth.

  Sister Raquel returned and whispered, “Elizabeth just arrived. I’m pretty sure Sister Lilith is ready to go, but she won’t leave until she sees you again.”

  My tired muscles tensed and the water in my stomach churned at the mere mention of her name.

  “Don’t worry,” Raquel continued, “They’re both still in the hallway. We’re the only ones in here. Before I take you back out, I want to get you dressed and comb your hair, and I need to replace the bandages on your eyes. It’s not good for them to stay wet.”

  I sucked my lip between my freshly brushed teeth to keep from speaking. She was going to remove the bandage around my head. What if I can see? What if my eyes aren’t damaged? Then again, what if they are?

  Raquel slipped a fresh nightgown over my head. Taking in the soft material, I felt long sleeves and buttons that ran down its entire front.

  Whether from exhaustion or from being disconnected from the medicine, my fingers shook badly as I tried to fasten the buttons. The water I’d managed to drink sloshed violently in my otherwise empty stomach.

  “Are you all right?” Sister Raquel asked as she reached out to stop me from falling forward.

  I shook my head, perspiration coating my freshly washed skin.

  “I was going to change your bandage and braid your hair, but let’s get you back to bed.” Concern laced each word. “I don’t want to be the one explaining to Father Gabriel why you collapsed in the bathroom.”

  Father Gabriel? Wouldn’t she tell Jacob?

  I heard the opening of the door and footsteps as Raquel wheeled me toward the bed. Though the footsteps sounded similar, they were different, letting me know that more than one person had entered my room. When my chair stopped, another set of hands helped me stand. I turned my covered eyes in that person’s direction.