It made them easy prey for a savvy predator.
That’s exactly what Jeremy Carter was. I was curious how a man became the leader of a cult—sorry, ‘religious movement.’ But it was hard to learn much about him.
No one seemed to know anything beyond the pretty fairytale he depicted for them. His past was shrouded in something akin to legend. It was claimed he was a solider during the Gulf War. That he had been badly wounded and while he lay, dying in the desert, an angel had come to him. Had told him that the end of days was coming. That he needed to save the worthy. To create a family he could lead to heaven. So, he had abandoned his post and come back to the states. He began living on his grandfather’s land in backwoods Virginia. He built a house and waited for the first of his disciples to find him. And they came. The chosen ones. Those he was destined to take with him at The Awakening.
It was a bunch of bullshit.
You’ve hear one apocalyptic tirade, you’ve heard them all. Pastor Carter wasn’t any different than David Koresh or Jim Jones. His message was the same as those psychopaths before him.
Give everything over to his cause. Your money. Your life. Your free will. And in return he’d show you the way to salvation.
I had the sense that his “message” was dictated by a narcissistic need. To orchestrate a world where he was God.
I looked at Pastor Carter and saw a very mortal man, as far from divinity as you could get. He lusted after very mortal things. Money. Sex. And most of all power. Because these sad, desperate people fed his need for control.
And they let him.
It made me sick.
He most likely had an incredibly tiny dick. There seemed to be some serious overcompensation going on.
I couldn’t hear people tell the tale of the amazing Pastor Carter without wanting to laugh. But to these people, it was absolute and total truth.
They had no idea that they were being fed lies.
Yet, for the time being I was stuck here. I had to play the part, or I had no doubt he’d get rid of me. So, until I could convince David to leave, I would stay.
I stood at the edge of the clearing. Fifty or so people all lay on the damp grass, wearing white. Eyes closed.
It was fucking creepy.
I looked down at my own white ensemble. One of the women had brought us “prayer clothes” not long after we had arrived. White slacks and a white button down shirt. The material was rough and made me itch. Pastor Carter insisted that we throw away our old clothing.
“Do away with all connections to an outside life,” he preached. His mantra was lame as hell.
But I had tossed my pricey Columbia fleece and hiking boots. I kept a pair of jeans and a T-shirt underneath my mattress. They were my escape clothes. Fuck if I was going to step foot outside the gate dressed like I was on my way to be baptized.
My eyes roamed over each of them until I found the person I was looking for.
Sara had never come to dinner last night. And when I knocked on her door afterwards, she hadn’t answered.
I had been upset when I didn’t see her again. I would have stayed outside her door all night just to see her, but I figured that would come across as a bit stalkery.
I had every intention of leaving soon. Of taking my brother and forgetting this place every existed.
Only, now there was her to consider.
I knew I would never be able to forget about Sara. Or leave her behind. Which led to a whole new set of problems. Because I wasn’t sure she would ever leave The Gathering of the Sun. What sort of person was I to expect her to abandon her family? Her whole world?
But I was terrified at the thought of leaving her.
I knew that walking away from her wasn’t a possibility. Not anymore.
Because in spite of the world she grew up in, she retained something that set her apart.
She played the role of devotee. She seemed to be the perfect disciple.
Yet, she wasn’t lying there, with her eyes closed like the others.
She stared up at the cloud covered sky.
I liked that she forced her eyes open.
I gingerly stepped over people, trying not to trounce on someone’s hand. I sank down onto the grass beside Sara. I reached out and touched her hand. Briefly. She didn’t pull away. For only a second her pinkie curled around mine. An acknowledgment.
And when I lay back, I too stared up at the sky.
I refused to close my eyes.
“Where were you last night?” I asked her once we were permitted to speak.
It had been a long three hours. This time I didn’t fall asleep.
But I sure as hell didn’t pray either.
I thought a lot about the girl beside me. Of kissing her again. Of doing normal things with her, like going to the movies. Or walking her to her front door and making out under a streetlamp. Stupid things that in any other situation wouldn’t seem so monumental. But here, it felt impossible.
Sara made me wish for impossible things. And I would fight for them. She was turning me into a warrior.
Sara bowed her head as we filed past the line of older members—the elders. Her mother was one of them. The way she watched me gave me the willies. I definitely got the feeling she didn’t like me.
The elders placed a palm on each of our heads. We were expected to pause and let them bless us or something like that. I simply did what Sara did. I hadn’t bothered to learn the intricacies of their strange practices. I promised myself I’d be gone soon. There was no point in remembering the prayers.
But here I was, a month later, and no sign of leaving…
I watched as she bowed her head for her blessing. I noted the way her mother barely touched her. As if she begrudged her what she freely gave to everyone else. It made me unreasonably angry. I saw how Sara seemed to shrink as she stood before her mother. I hated Ms. Bishop for making her feel that way. I hated her a lot.
Sara didn’t answer me. She acted as though I hadn’t spoken. And when Ms. Bishop put her hand on my head, her nails dug into my scalp.
Sara was heading towards her house when I caught up with her. “Sara, wait,” I called out.
She hesitated, looking around, but most of the other members were still back at the clearing. Finally, she waited for me.
“What happened last night? You never came to dinner.”
Sara shrugged. “I was tired.”
I wasn’t sure if she was feeding me a line, though her eyes were ringed with dark circles, as though she hadn’t slept well.
I followed her along the white graveled path. She looked pretty in her white skirt and simple cotton shirt. I wanted to tell her but didn’t know how she’d respond. Didn’t know how I’d say the words without coming across like a moron.
I had never been so unbalanced by a woman before. Not since I was ten years old and crushing on my sixteen-year-old babysitter. There was something so solemn and serious about Sara Bishop. She seemed much older than me, but at the same time much younger. She was incredibly naïve, given how shut off she was from the rest of the world. But there was something inside of her that craved to know.
The fact that part of her hadn’t died yet in this stifling environment said more about her than anything else.
It was one of the many things I was learning to love about her.
I thought she was going to go to her house, but then she turned left and headed towards the woods. She didn’t slow down but I got the impression I was meant to follow her.
So, I did.
Once we were in the shadowed cover of the trees, she finally looked at me. “I read your book.”
I gaped at her in shock. “All of it?”
Sara nodded shyly. “I couldn’t sleep. I decided to read.”
I grinned, feeling a bit lighter. “Wow, I’m impressed. It took me almost two months to finish it.” I liked the look of pride on her face. “What’d you think?”
She sat down on an overturned log, her hands on her thighs. “I liked i
t. It was interesting. Honestly, it’s the first book I’ve read in years.”
That admission made me sad. And it made me more determined than ever to take her with me when I left. I couldn’t leave her here to slowly wither away.
“Though Santiago seems like a jerk at times. He gave up on his love for the merchant’s daughter like it was nothing. He completely forgot about her. And then he fell in love with Fatima and everything he refused to give up for the merchant girl, he wanted to give up for the new one.” She made a face of disgust.
“Sometimes people are only meant to come into your life for a little while. And then sometimes they are meant to totally change you. Fatima was his true love. She was his fate. She helped him find his way,” I argued.
Sara rolled her eyes. “Said like an unromantic man.”
I puffed out my chest and put my shoulders back, standing straight and tall. “I’ll have you know, this manly man is incredibly romantic.”
She rolled her eyes again but it was her laugh that had me almost tripping over myself. “Love is love is love. I don’t understand how you can brush off someone only because they didn’t meet some sort of criteria.”
I sat down beside her on the log. It was chilly in the shade but warm enough that I felt over dressed in my heavy shirt. “But true love should never get in the way of enjoying your life to the fullest. It doesn’t stop you from going out into the world and living. If someone is trying to hold you back from being the best you, then in my opinion, it’s not really love. No matter how much it dresses itself up as affection. If someone says they love you but then holds you back, don’t believe them for a second.”
Sara was quiet for a while. I wasn’t sure if she was taking in what I had said, or if she dismissed it outright. I was trying to tell her that these people that claimed to love her didn’t know the meaning of the word.
“Do you have a personal legend?” she asked, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I can relate to it. Of having one single purpose that you can devote your life to.”
My mood soured. I hadn’t wanted reading my favorite book to reinforce any of the crap Pastor Carter shoved down her throat.
“Well, I think there can be multiple interpretations,” I started backpedaling.
“I always thought my purpose in life was to help people. Be a teacher. Or a social worker. Or a doctor. When I was little I made my mom take me to the local nursing home so I could hand out flowers I picked in the garden to the residents,” she chuckled.
I stared at her in wonder. And in surprise. That wasn’t at all what I thought she was going to say. And I was so damn glad she did. I liked being surprised by her.
“I think we would have been best friends when were kids.” I knocked my shoulder with hers.
“Oh yeah?” she cocked her head to the side. “You’re a bleeding heart too?”
I put my hand over my heart. “Certifiable, I’m afraid.”
She let out a sigh. “I sometimes wonder what I would have been if we hadn’t come here.” Her face paled instantly. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to be here. I love being here. I’m completely devoted—”
I put my hand on hers, trying to head off the panic. “It’s okay, I know what you meant. And—” I bumped her shoulder again, trying to make her smile. It worked. Sort of. But it was less heartfelt than before. “It’s okay to think about other directions your life can take. It makes you human. Maybe you should consider that your personal legend is out there somewhere. Waiting for you to find it.”
She didn’t say anything. For the first time since I’d arrived at The Retreat, I didn’t mind the silence.
“I can’t think that way. I belong here. My future is here.” She seemed angry. And incredibly conflicted.
Was she trying to convince me? Or herself?
“Says who?” I challenged. “Pastor Carter? What does he know about what’s in your heart? What your hopes and dreams are?” I felt my own anger rise up to meet hers.
“He’s our leader. Our shepherd. He speaks God’s words…” her voice trailed off as if she couldn’t find the conviction to continue.
“Bullshit,” I snapped.
Sara’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I said that’s bullshit.” I tried to calm myself down. I knew that insulting the venerable Pastor Carter would get me nowhere with Sara. She had been brainwashed from an early age to believe every line of crap he said. I had to go about things a different way if I wanted her to see.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so harsh. All I meant was that you can’t know what your true purpose is unless you experience things. Unless you put yourself out there and figure it out yourself.” I could see her shutting down. I was coming at her too hard—too fast.
“Maybe we could start with something small,” I ventured. Sara looked at me warily. “What’s something you remember from when you were a kid, from before you came here, that you miss?”
Sara gnawed on her lips. I could tell she was agitated. Her knee bounced up and down. She clasped her hands in her lap so tightly I could see the whites of her knuckles.
But she didn’t get up and leave.
She stayed sitting on the log beside me.
It was a small victory.
I half expected her not to answer me. To pretend I never asked her anything. But she didn’t.
“Chocolate chip cookies,” she said softly.
“Really? You haven’t had a chocolate chip cookie since you’ve been here?” I asked incredulously.
“You know we don’t eat sugar. Pastor says it’s a toxin and that our bodies must be clean if we’re to be accepted into heaven.”
“Yeah, I knew you guys didn’t eat sugar, but I didn’t know that was the reason. He can’t be serious?” I started to laugh but stopped myself when I saw the miserable expression on her face. Even though I told myself I’d control my reactions to the ridiculous things I learned about this place, I was still taken aback by the level of control exerted over The Gathering members.
I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Come on then.”
She frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To make chocolate chip cookies,” I told her.
“We can’t. We don’t have sugar or chocolate. Plus, we’d never be allowed—”
“Are you going to tell me there’s nothing in that huge kitchen that we can use to bake something?” I raised my eyebrows.
She was chewing on her lips again. She had made them bleed. The anxiety she was feeling, evident. “Maybe. We bake cakes using honey sometimes. And flaxseed cookies, which are nice. But there’s no way we can use the kitchen without someone seeing us.”
“Then let them see us. There’s nothing wrong with making some damn cookies.” I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice. I took a deep breath and when I spoke again, I kept the anger out of my tone. “Look, I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff, only make a batch of cookies. It’ll be fun. Promise.” I gave her my most endearing grin. The one my mother swore got me out of every bad grade—every missed class. I could be charming when I wanted to be.
Sara hesitated but then seemed to make a decision. She got to her feet, her expression determined. “Okay. Let’s go make cookies.” She sounded as though we were going off to war.
“Awesome,” I said as she took my hand. We had started walking back towards The Retreat when I pulled us both up short.
“What is it?” Sara asked with concern.
“Um, do you know how to make cookies?” I asked, seeing the one fatal flaw in my plan.
Sara stared at me long and hard.
And then she started laughing. The kind of laughing that made your eyes water.
It was the best sound in the world.
We pushed our way through the trees. Sara still held my hand. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke volumes. It felt more intimate than kissing her had.
“I wonder what honey cookies taste like…” I started to say when a so
und caught my attention.
It was a low keening sound. Like an animal in pain. It grew steadily louder and louder until every hair on my body stood on end.
“What is that?” Sara whispered.
I knew the sound all too well. I recognized it instantly. I dropped Sara’s hand and started running towards the house where David and I were staying. I could hear her footsteps behind me, trying to keep up.
I could see a group of people just outside my door. Anne stood off to the side, hands covering her mouth, tears dripping down her face.
“Anne, what’s going on?” I demanded, out of breath.
“It’s David. I—”
At that moment, I heard him yell. Violent and ugly, it was the sound of someone losing their mind. The group of Gathering members standing outside the door moved aside as Pastor Carter and two other men—Stanley and Clement, of course—came outside, all but dragging my brother. He had collapsed and become dead weight.
I ran to them, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I felt dizzy. “David, are you all right?” I tried to grab my brother’s arm but one of the men pushed me back.
Pastor Carter nodded to Clement and Stanley and they walked him down the steps, not saying a word to me.
“Where are you taking him? David!” I screamed.
Pastor Carter smiled at me, the bastard. “Your brother will be fine. But his outbursts won’t be tolerated here.” The way he spoke—so calmly, so matter-a-factly— made my skin crawl.
I clenched my fists, willing myself not to hit him. I had a vivid fantasy of grabbing him by his greasy ponytail and pummeling his smarmy face. “Where. Are. You. Taking. My. Brother?”
“He will be spending some time in The Refuge. You don’t need to worry about him.” Pastor Carter started to walk away, following the men who were taking my brother off to god knows where The Refuge was.
“Wait!” I started to run after him. I didn’t know what I was going to do but it most likely wouldn’t be good.
A hand grabbed my arm, holding me back. “Stop, Bastian. Just stop.”
Sara’s insistent voice was firm. I tried to shake her loose. “Let go of me, goddamn it!”
Ashes of the Sun Page 23
