The Chosen

by Patricia Bell

  “Okay, what did you find?”

  Chapter 8 - Rachel

  “Rachel!” a voice boomed, waking her from a sound sleep.

  It is Father.

  Rachel bolted upright in her bed.

  “Yes, Father?” she asked, but somehow, she knew. He knew.

  “Is it true?” he barked, waking the younglings she still shared a room with. Though they stirred, none of them dared to speak.

  Rachel stared at her father in mock confusion. Lying was a sin, and omission was the same as lying, but at that point, she’d done much worse. She’d been sexually immoral.

  “Rachel?”

  His ordinarily passive face radiated red above the kerosene lamp he held in his hand. The glow gave an eerie crimson to his fierce eyes. His top lip tremored. She’d only seen him like this one time before. And that did not end well. Shaking, she shrunk back against the wall.

  “Rachel!” he boomed again. “You will answer me!”

  “Yes, Father.” An instance of bravery overcame her briefly as she spoke. “It is true. I am with child.”

  “Get dressed.” He gave her one last look, one of disdain, disgust. “Quickly. We have guests,” he barked and swept out of the room.

  Guests? What does that mean?

  Rachel’s body racked with fear.

  “What has happened, Rachel?” her sister Abigail whispered through the darkness. “What have you done?”

  “I must hurry. I must not keep Father waiting any longer.” Rachel hurried to dress, as a splitting fear encompassed her.

  “What will they do?” Abigail asked. “What if you are fleshed-out?”

  “Father would not do that to me.”

  Rachel wasn’t so sure of her own words. Her father was a passive man. A kind, generous man. It was a rare occasion that he even raised his voice. But that look in his eyes. The one that told her she was no longer his little girl. It spoke volumes more than his words did.

  But fleshing-out was only a rumor they’d heard. No one had ever witnessed it. But then again, no one had done something as sinful as she had.

  Abigail grabbed her sister and held on to her. “I love you, Rachel. I shall always love you, no matter what.”

  “I love you, too.” She hugged her sister back tightly. “I must go downstairs. I cannot anger Father any longer.”

  As she stumbled down the stairs, it occurred to her that it might be the last time she would see Abigail. Or any of her family.

  All her life, she’d questioned the elders. She’d disregarded authority. She’d even refused to be baptized the previous month.

  This would be the last straw. Rachel didn’t blame them. She was disobedient. She slowed her pace and tried her best to hold her head high. She would not allow them to see her fear.

  “Rachel!” her father boomed before she reached the bottom stair.

  “I am here, Father.” She tried to sound brave, but the quiver in her voice gave away her terror.

  “Come!” he demanded.

  Holding her head up, she went to her father. As she entered the living room, four people stood waiting to condemn her. And each of them stared at her — her father, Elder Joseph, Elder Aaron, and the High Prophet himself, Prophet Daniel. None of her three mothers were in attendance.

  “Confess your sins before God,” the High Prophet boomed.

  Rachel’s body shook as though it might fall apart from sheer terror. As the prophet stared deep into the depths of her soul, a paralyzing chill ran through her limbs. She forced herself to break the hold. To look away. A tear fell down her cheek as every ounce of resolve dissipated like a soft drizzle in the hot sun. She bowed her head in shame.

  “Answer the High Prophet!” her father thundered, forcing her to look up.

  “I have sinned . . . with a boy.” Her words came out as a whisper.

  “Speak up, child!” her father demanded.

  Why should she be ashamed? She loved Jacob, and he loved her. Yes, they were wrong to be intimate before marriage, but why should they not be able to choose who they loved?

  Refusing to acknowledge the High Prophet, she stared straight at her father and spoke clearly. “I have sinned, Father. I am with child.”

  “Who is the boy?” he demanded.

  “I shall not say. You must do what you must do,” Rachel answered, though she trembled inside.

  “Flesh her out.” The High Prophet spoke firmly and calmly, waved his hand in dismissal, and then walked out of the house.

  Elder Joseph grabbed her by one arm and Elder Aaron by the other. She gave her father one last pleading stare. He glanced back at her, only this time, his eyes held pain. Sorrow. Slowly, he turned away from her and left the room.

  The elders led her roughly through the house and onto the front porch where a vehicle awaited.

  At the sight of the truck, she panicked. She tugged and ripped at their hands but was unable to loosen herself from her captors. She kicked and screamed, jerking her body wildly to get away from their hold. And for a moment, she had succeeded. Ripping away from one of them, she then gouged her claws into the arm of the other. Out of sheer force, she fell back onto the hard desert floor.

  “Ouch!” he yelled, releasing her arm. “She scratched me.” Deep, bloody gouges marked the elder as he stared down at her. “Why, you little—” he raised his leg to kick her, but she rolled away.

  An internal instinct had been awoken. One to survive. Jumping to her feet, she ran. Where she would go, she had no idea, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be taken without a fight.

  But it was all for naught. The other elder grabbed her before she’d gotten more than three steps. He picked her up like a sack of potatoes and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Let go of me!” she screamed, wriggling and kicking like a wayward youngling on their way to the shed.

  “You cannot fight this!” he yelled back with a snicker then looked to the injured Elder Aaron.

  “The back,” Elder Aaron spoke as he held his wounded arm to his side. “Throw the Jezebel in the back,” he spat and nodded to the bed of the truck.

  Elder Joseph hefted her in roughly and she bounced into the truck bed, her head hitting the metal sides. Pain rushed through her scalp and down her neck.

  The vehicle sped away before she got a chance to sit up. When she finally got her bearings, she looked into the cab. A different elder sat in the front seat. Elder James. She looked back to get one last glance at her family and her home. There was no one outside waving their goodbyes. Not one mother, not her father, not even one of her thirteen brothers or sisters. They’d forsaken her. Everyone.

  Rachel scooted as close as she could to the cab of the vehicle to shield herself from the hot wind as she worried for the sake of the life growing inside of her.

  Had he been hurt by those ruffians? How would she care for her child without the help of her family? Her community? What would they do to her? What happened to people who were fleshed-out? Would they take her out into the desert and kill her? Or would they throw her out to wander in the wilderness like Hagar, the handmaid of Sarai? What was that story?

  It didn’t matter. God had forsaken her, and so had her family. Not even Jacob had been there to protect her. Uncontrollable sobs burst from her as her body racked with tremors.

  God help me! She cried out, but no one was listening.

  Not even God.

  Once well out of the community, the vehicle slowed. Rachel looked up just as it pulled over into the dirt. The truck jerked to a stop, and Elder James jumped out.

  “Come. Get in the front.” He held a hand up to help her out. For a moment, she dared to dream that he’d changed his mind and would take her back to her family.

  She climbed into the seat of the vehicle, and the man spoke, whisking away her hope. “You have committed an unpardonable sin.” He turned to her. “God shall not forgive you for your indiscretion. Therefore, you must depart from the community. As Adam and Eve were driven from the garden, you must
be driven from the sanctity of your home.” As he continued, a sadness gleamed in his eyes. “If you speak a word of your indiscretion, you shall surely jeopardize your own safety. God shall strike you down into the depths of hell. He has shown you mercy to merely allow you to live but you shall no longer be welcome among The Chosen.”

  Not knowing which drove her more, her anger or her fear, she refused to speak.

  Elder James was only five years older than her. He’d turned eighteen the previous fall. He’d become an elder by default at the last Ceremony of Rites. That was the ritual in which every man over the age of eighteen had their names placed in a Bible. And then like a lottery, God would lead the High Prophet to the Bible in which He chose the next elder.

  “This is your last chance to disclose your accomplice.”

  How did he know she refused to give Jacob up? Had he been listening at the door? He had not been in the room. For a moment, she thought to go ahead and tell the man. If she did, maybe Jacob would be fleshed-out with her, and they could be together. But still, she had no idea what was in store for her. What if they were taking her out to slaughter her like a cow at the fall harvest? Or maybe to wring her neck like a Thanksgiving turkey? Her head spun with the possibilities that awaited her.

  Trembling uncontrollably, she stared at Elder James. Could he do that to her? Kill her like a plump chicken? She wasn’t sure. But if it were his plan, she wouldn’t allow that to happen to Jacob. If he were to be fleshed-out, he would have to come clean on his own. She would not be responsible for his demise.

  She remained silent.

  “The answer is clear. Jacob shall be dealt with accordingly. It was only our hope that you would confess on your own.”

  Rachel leaned her head on the cool window and stared at the passing desert, her anger fueled by his words. Why did they insist on her confessing if they already knew?

  “And would you like to know who confided your indiscretion?”

  Did she want to know? She’d heard someone by the barn door that night. Seen the shadow. Surely it had been one of her own family members. It didn’t matter whether she wanted to know or not because he told her, anyway.

  “Your sister, Abigail, witnessed the two of you speaking in the barn.”

  Abigail? They were the same age. Born only three days apart, to different mothers. They were like twins. They did everything together. How could she have told on her?

  Did she not have one loyal family member? One who understood the unfairness of her people?

  “We are here. You must leave the truck now.” Elder James slowed as he steered over onto the side of the road.

  She glanced around. Not a soul was in sight except for a buzzard that circled the night sky, scanning for his next victim. She stared out at the reds and purples that hinted at the rise of the morning sun. So beautiful and yet so cruel. Soon the heat would be over a hundred degrees. She had no food, no water, no spare clothing. She was Hagar, left to die in the desert. Soon enough that buzzard would be picking the meat from her dead body.

  When the truck came to a complete stop, Rachel turned to Elder James in hopes that he would have mercy on her. Solemnly, he nodded for her to exit the vehicle. With all of the fight drained from her, she’d resigned herself to die. She climbed out of the truck and watched as it U-turned and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

  What would she do now? She scanned the area. Only dry desert for as far as the eye could see.

  With nothing left to do, she walked in the opposite direction.

  Chapter 9 - Linda

  Linda sat on the soft brown couch in her living room. Her phone in hand, she dialed the number for the millionth time, and in just as many, without a ring, it went straight to voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s me. I’m either sleeping or hanging out with my friends, but I always have my phone on me so if you got this message . . .” Giggling. “I must be ignoring you. Sucks to be you!” more giggling. “Peace out. Leave me a memo, and maybe I’ll get back atcha.” The phone beeped, and then an automated message came on to inform Linda that the number she had reached had an inbox that was full. Of course it was, she’d filled it with messages, pleading for her baby to come home.

  In the last three months, Linda had searched high and low, scoured the city, hung up missing posters on every available post, and spoke to every person who would listen for miles around. She called her daughter’s phone daily, sometimes hourly, in hopes that one time, her daughter would pick up and tell her she was okay. But she never did. And no one had seen her anywhere. She’d literally disappeared.

  Linda prayed fervently and nonstop that God would keep her daughter safe. She’d even had the prayer group at her church praying for her.

  The only person who thought she’d had any idea of the whereabouts of her daughter was that old nutcase, Dotty, who lived next door. She’d attested to seeing a white light the night Luna had gone missing. “Snatched up by aliens,” she’d said. Linda had to laugh at the woman.

  Of course, she wouldn’t dare laugh at the old bird to her face. That would have been rude, but the idea of her daughter being captured by aliens was ridiculous at best. The situation was no laughing matter, but Linda had two choices ― to either laugh or to cry. And she’d done plenty of the latter.

  Not entertaining the alien abduction theory, Linda thought it’d be her daughter’s own fault if she did get sucked up into some unidentified flying object. But hindsight told her, once they got a whiff of her teenage attitude, they’d beam her back down to the surface on no uncertain terms.

  Luna hadn’t always been the wayward child. She’d been the sweetest little girl up until about a year prior. Linda had yet to figure out what had gone wrong.

  Blake entered her mind as he’d done so often as of recent. She picked up the phone. If she called him, she’d be breaking her promise. She set it back down. But what about Luna? Was her promise to Blake more important than the welfare of her daughter? His daughter? She picked it back up. She’d call him at work, let him know, and if he didn’t care about Luna’s welfare, she’d delete his number and never call it again.

  It was settled. With shaky hands, she searched through her contact list for the number.

  Blake. She’d stared at those ten digits a thousand times, no, tens of thousands. But she’d never pressed the call button. For all she knew, maybe it wasn’t even the right number. Only one way to find out. She pressed call. A moment later, the phone rang. Her heart thumped as her throat constricted.

  Calm down. It’s just Blake. You’ve known him all your life.

  After it rang a fourth time, it went to voicemail.

  “You have reached the voicemail box of Blake McKenzie with the law offices of Kent and McKenzie. Please leave a message, and someone will return your call as soon as possible. Have a nice day.”

  A beep sounded, signaling it was time to leave a message. Panicked, Linda hung up. The sound of his voice alone brought tears to her eyes. She’d never loved another man as she did him. And she never would again.

  Her phone rang, startling her already frazzled nerves. She grabbed for it off the couch next to her, but in her frustration, she’d only managed to swipe it right onto the ceramic tiled floor, upside down. As it rang again, she leapt for it. She hadn’t broken the screen again, had she? Another ring.

  She turned it over and gasped as she stared at the single-syllable word that displayed brightly on the screen — Blake. She fell back into her seat. With trembling hands, she answered the phone.

  “Hello?” she said with uncertainty.

  “Hi, I missed a call from this number,” the voice answered.

  It was him. She’d know that voice anywhere.

  “Hi, uh this is Linda. Linda Ferris. We uh . . . well, we knew each other way —”

  “Linda?” he interrupted. “My Linda? I mean.” He cleared his throat. “The girl I used to — Linda Ferris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. Hold on one second. Don�
�t go anywhere.”

  The phone went silent. Had he hung up on her? What had she been thinking? He’d been—

  “Hello? Hey, sorry. I just had to transfer you to my office line. How are you, Linda?”

  She let out a sigh. “I’m, well, I hate to burden you, but I have a problem. With our daughter.”

  Silence.

  “Blake, I know I promised never to bother you with this. I just—”

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that, well, I have thought of you and Luna on countless occasions. I’ve wanted to call you so many times. I’ve felt so guilty all these years.”

  It was her turn to be silent. Was she hearing him correctly? He’d wanted to contact her?

  “Linda? Are you there?”

  “I’m here.” Her words choked as tears of relief bit at her eyes.

  “Is Luna okay? What is she, fifteen now?”

  “Seventeen. She just turned seventeen, and she’s — Oh God, Blake, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I called you. I’ve messed everything up.”

  “Wait a second, Linny, slow down. What happened?”

  She hadn’t been called by that nickname since the day he walked out of her life. It was his pet name for her. She couldn’t continue. It was all too much for her. She broke down and sobbed. “She’s gone, Blake,” she cried. “Gone.”

  “Linda, where are you?” he asked. “Are you still in Arizona?”

  How did he know? She’d moved from San Diego when Luna was just a little over two. Had he been keeping up with her the same way she kept up with him? She wiped her tears on her sleeve and tried to calm down.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Canyon Rock.”

  “I can be there by Tuesday. That is if you want me to come.”

  “Yes, of course, but what about your wife? And your kids?”

  “I’ll explain when I get there,” he said. “Wait for my call.”

  “I will,” she said. I will.

  She hung up the phone and stared off into space. What had just happened? Had he agreed to come to Arizona? Absently, she ran a hand through her hair. She’d gotten old since the last time he’d seen her, gained a little weight, a few laugh lines had formed and, well, as of late, the bags under her eyes made her look ten years older than her thirty-five.