by J P Barnaby
“It was the first time I really saw how outsiders lived. They had plenty of food. They had air-conditioning. No one hit them. We were different. We were so different.” He closed his eyes and took a long breath. “When Mama said it was time to leave, the woman gave her some money. Abigail and Joseph were playing with the woman’s little pup. Lot like Jake in temperament, very sweet, and she just loved the attention. Anyway, they were crying when Mama made us go. I could tell she was angry—no, more than angry—but I didn’t know why. Not then.” He fell silent. Noah didn’t say anything. He knew Kyle’d had a difficult life before he moved to Aster, and he needed to hear the details. Noah didn’t know how, but one day they’d make a life together. There was no other option for him.
“What did you do then?”
“We went back to the camp, but Mama, she wasn’t the same. About three months later, when we went out for donations again, it was just me and her and little Abigail. She gave me a bag with my clothes, a bus ticket, and a little bit of food and told me to run. She said that there was a better life out there for me. The bus ended up in Chicago, where her sister Mary lived, and I stayed there for five years, trying to figure out the outside world.” Kyle looked him long and hard in the eyes.
“How did you end up here?” Noah rubbed little circles on the backs of Kyle’s knuckles, trying to soothe him.
“They showed up at Aunt Mary’s, and I ran. Mary’s husband, Tommy, sent me here to his sister.”
“What do they want?”
Kyle shook his head violently. Noah knew there would be a line, and he didn’t want to cross it.
Kyle turned his gaze back to the clouds.
“Your family is in some kind of religious… group?” Noah sat up a little higher in the chair.
“Cult. You can say it. I finally can. And yes.”
“Your family is still with them?”
Kyle nodded. “My mom said she couldn’t get Papa to let Hope come to get donations with us, so I had to go by myself. I didn’t want to leave, but she said she wanted a different life for me. So I got on that bus. I was fifteen. When I got off the bus, my aunt Mary and uncle Tommy were waiting there. I’d never even met them before. But they just opened their arms up. Aunt Mary cried. I think she was hoping that my mom and sister would be with me.”
“How did you like Chicago?” Noah said, changing the subject, giving Kyle time to breathe.
“It was so different. Noisy and bright and everything felt so close. I had panic attacks for a while. Aunt Mary took me to the doctor for them. It was the first time I’d ever been to a doctor before. They gave me some medicine that helped. They also took me to a different doctor to talk to about the camp. I don’t know if it made me feel any better or not. Everything happened at once.” Kyle put a hand down to scratch Jake behind the ears.
“Is that why you left and came here? Because it’s quieter?”
Kyle didn’t say anything; he just kept rubbing behind Jake’s ears.
“Why are you telling me now? Did something happen?” Noah asked. Kyle hadn’t been exactly forthcoming in the month since they’d met, even though Noah could feel that they were getting closer. It was difficult to be with someone who you knew so little about. Trying to get Kyle to start talking was kind of like trying to get Henry to stop talking.
“Aunt Mary called Sarah this morning. The police came and told her Mama was dead. Been dead since about the time I left, but they just found her… her…. And now my sister is here looking for me. She must be after the box Mama gave me. Papa sent her.” Kyle’s face suddenly turned imploring.
“Box?”
“Yeah, it’s got some papers and pictures in it. Mama said it was to protect me. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to do that. But I guess the camp could get into real trouble if the systemites… government people… got ahold of it. That’s what they want. That, and to bring me back with them.” He looked out over the yard, and the storm clouds reflected in his bright green eyes. “I’ll never go back.”
“You don’t have to. They don’t need to know you’re here. You can stay above the store until they leave. You don’t have to go back to Sarah’s.” Noah squeezed his hand again. “It’ll be okay. You have friends here.”
“Henry won’t like me staying up there. He don’t like me much.”
“It’s my store. He’ll live with it. But you need to get that box from Sarah’s so we can see what’s inside it. We need a plan.”
“You have so much to do already with the store. You don’t need to take this on.”
“At the very least, you’re my friend and I’m going to help you. I’d like for us to be much more than that,” Noah finished shyly.
Kyle squeezed his hand back. “I’d like that too.”
“Let’s take a peek out front and see if the truck is still there. Where is the box?”
“It’s a wooden box inside a shoebox on the floor of the closet.”
“If they’re gone, I’ll go over and get it. I’ll grab some clothes too. Do you need anything else if you’re going to stay at the store awhile?”
“No, I think anything else I can pick up at a store.”
“They’re going to look for you at the bookstore. They’ll look for you anywhere.” Noah stood up and straightened the wicker chair.
“They won’t draw attention to themselves. That’s not their way.” Kyle rubbed Jake’s head again and then stood up. Jake got to his feet as well, as if he knew his new friend needed backup. “And if they do threaten me, I can always run again.”
“No, we’re not going to let that happen. You’ve built a life here.” Noah wanted to say that they were going to build one together, but it felt wrong to bring up that sentiment then.
Kyle nodded and they went into the main part of the house, Jake right on their heels. The curtains were pulled back from the big living room picture window. Kyle hung back while Noah scanned the street. The truck had gone.
“I’m going to see Miss Sarah. Does she know about all this?” Noah opened the front door and then turned back to Kyle.
“Yes, she knows.” The pain and fear in Kyle’s expression broke Noah’s heart.
“Okay. Lock up behind me and stay here with Jake. He sucks as a guard dog because he loves people, but maybe he can look menacing if the situation calls for it.” He chuckled and then stepped out onto the front porch. Noah saw no signs of life on their sleepy street, so he jogged across the road to Miss Sarah’s house.
She asked about Kyle and then let him in.
“They know he’s here, and they’ve been talking to folks. They know he works at your daddy’s store.” She looked shaken from her encounter with the couple.
“Did they hurt you or threaten you, Miss Sarah?” Noah asked, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Not in so many words, but I’ve heard stories about those camps and how women are treated as slaves for… you know.” She looked away, her face slightly flushed. “Seeing the blackness in that girl’s eyes, just—”
“You can stay at Daddy’s if you want, if you’re afraid they’ll come back.” Noah caught her gaze.
“I’m going to go talk to Coop first, see if he thinks it’s warranted. I don’t want to be a nervous biddy.”
Noah nodded as he slid past her in the tight hallway and headed for the stairs. He’d been in this house years ago when the Murphys lived in it. He’d come over and play ball in the backyard. He remembered pushing the brother, whose name he’d forgotten, to let the little sister play. As a boy with no siblings, he remembered being jealous of their relationship, of the boy having a built-in playmate.
He turned at the top of the stairs into a small room that could have passed any Army inspection. The bed had been neatly made, no clothes lay on the floor, and even the dresser contents were laid out in perfect little rows. Noah looked around and saw a small duffel bag hanging from the closet door handle. He tossed it on the bed and went to the closet first. It took some digging, but he found the shoebox
that contained a small wooden chest. It just fit, nestled inside the cardboard. Noah set it on the bed next to the bag. Then he went through the drawers.
Crawling through Kyle’s underwear made him flush, feeling a little pervy, but he got enough clothes packed for a week. He grabbed the bag and the box and was nearly out the door before he saw Kyle’s jacket hung neatly over the back of a desk chair. When he grabbed it, he noticed an envelope lying there with the name Samuel slashed across the front in quick, jarring letters. He slid it between the wood and cardboard in the box.
He left Miss Sarah with assurances that he would care for Kyle. As he crossed back to his father’s house, he caught a glimpse of the beat-up truck backed behind the Walters’ hedges at the end of the block.
Chapter Twenty-Two
KYLE SAT in the back of the truck behind the tinted windows. Jake sat beside him with one paw on his leg. He’d tucked the box and bag neatly beneath Noah’s seat in the big Ford, and they drove back to the bookstore. Noah parked behind the building and let them both in through the back. Usually Noah only used this door to take garbage to the dumpster, but he didn’t want to parade Kyle in front of the store as a show for the neighbors.
Henry waited for them in the kitchenette.
“I think those people you were talking about before you left me with your congealing breakfast stopped by the street a few minutes ago. They didn’t come here, but they went in across the street. The owner didn’t seem very pleased with them. In fact, he seemed rather put out when he tossed them into the street,” Henry mused.
Still, Kyle said nothing. He hadn’t uttered a word since his confession.
“They’re here for Kyle.” Noah gave Henry an abbreviated version of the story Kyle had told him. Henry’s eyes widened with each word.
“They’re here for this.” Kyle pulled the wooden chest out of the Nike box and let the cardboard shell fall onto the table.
“My goodness.” Henry tried to take the chest from Kyle’s hands, but his grip was insubstantial compared to Kyle’s, and his hands went right through it.
“Kyle,” Noah said gently, “why don’t we see what we’ve got in here?” He took the chest from Kyle’s less resistant fingers and sat down at the kitchenette table. Henry took the seat beside him, but Kyle stood, leaning against the counter.
Noah flipped open the lid. Inside were papers, pictures, certificates, and video cassettes that he remembered seeing people rent when he was a kid. He glanced up at Henry, then began to remove them from the box. Henry shuffled around a few papers to get a better look, but Noah went for the pictures. The first showed two adults and two children in rags, bundled tightly together. The adults were smiling, but the kids’ expressions held twin grimaces. He held the picture up to Kyle.
“That’s me and Hope, Mama, and Daddy,” he said, his voice quiet and toneless. Noah turned over the picture and read “Jonah, Moonglow, Samuel, and Hope.”
Kyle confirmed with a nod.
“Your name is Samuel?” Noah whispered. Kyle nodded again.
The next picture depicted the same man from the picture surrounded by six women. It looked like maybe three of them were pregnant. They were all smiling, and the women were dressed in similar simple but low-cut dresses.
“That’s my father and his wives. The higher up you got in the cult, the more wives you were able to take. That’s how it worked. My father was the leader of our camp,” he said to the floor. “I was fifteen when I left the camp, but already they wanted me to pick out a wife. Because I was Jonah’s son, I could have anyone but Daisy.”
“Daisy?” Henry asked.
“She was Luna’s little girl. When she got her womanhood, she was to become another sister-wife for my mother. My father’s wife,” he explained.
“Womanhood?” Noah had an idea what that meant, but he couldn’t fathom it meant—
“When she gets her flow and becomes a woman. That’s when all the girls in the camp got married.”
“That’s what, like, twelve? Thirteen?” Noah asked Henry, who appeared to pale just a little further than normal.
“’Bout that, yeah. My sister was getting close when Mama sent me away. The man she’s with may be her husband, I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to look at any more,” Noah said and pushed the pictures away.
“Take the receipts,” Henry suggested, pushing the pile toward him.
“If there’s any weird stuff in here….”
“Just look. Don’t be a child.”
Noah flipped through the pile of receipts. Most were from a farm supply store in a place called Lakewood, Montana. They were handwritten and always paid in cash.
“Your camp must have done a lot of farming,” Noah observed.
“We had little gardens that we used to grow vegetables.”
“Wait. Henry, do you know anything about farming?”
“Some. Why?” He looked up from the certificates he was studying.
“Because these receipts are for tons of fertilizer. I think probably more than you’d need for a small garden? But I’ve never gardened. This just looks like a lot.” He handed the papers to Henry.
“This one is for a bunch of batteries and a dozen kitchen timers.”
“That’s a lot of—” Noah stopped and grabbed his phone. He googled a few things and then looked back at the papers, sick.
“You use all of those things in bombs.”
The room went silent. Noah stared at the pages for a long time while an enormous number of tick tock sounds echoed from the old alarm clock on the counter.
Tick.
Tock.
Kyle—Samuel—Kyle left the group five years ago. How many places had they blown up since his mother had been brave enough to collect this information and put her oldest son on a bus? Had it been a government building? A school? His stomach churned as he looked at receipt after receipt.
“I didn’t know,” Kyle breathed. “I didn’t know anything about that.”
“These papers are interesting,” Henry said, organizing them into rows. “They’re life events—births, deaths, marriages, and the like. No divorces. But if my math is right, and it always is, he’s right about the average marrying age of girls in this camp. There’s enough right here in this box to bury these people.”
“My father is still there. He’s one of the leaders,” Kyle implored, conflict written plainly across his face. “My sister wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Religious fanatics will do just about anything to anyone,” Henry said. “When I died, they were still burning crosses in black folks’ yards, stringin’ us up from trees, all in the name of their version of Jesus.” Even in his translucence, Henry’s eyes blazed.
“Okay, if Kyle is right about his sister, that’s fine. But what about the guy? What about the explosives? What if they brought this kind of stuff with them? If they couldn’t convince Kyle to come back with them, what would they do to protect the group?” Noah implored. “And what about these little girls? Don’t you think someone should help them? What if your sister is one of them?”
“What are you suggesting?” Henry asked.
“We need to tell someone. Cooper or the staties. Maybe take it to a journalist who can blow it open so that someone has to investigate.” Noah stood up and dropped the papers to the table. “Whatever happens, we can’t simply do nothing.” He put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder.
“Do what you want with it,” Kyle said and pushed Noah away.
“We do have to do something about this, right?” he asked Henry.
“Yeah, son. We do.”
“Should we go to the police?” Noah wondered aloud.
“Police have been out to the camp before. They won’t do nothin’,” Kyle said as he picked up the picture of his family and studied it.
“Do you still have newspapers?” Henry asked.
“Yeira.”
“Bless you?” Henry said, half in question.
“Yeira is… was… my roommate in
New York. She’s a television journalist. We met in English courses at NYU—that’s how we got to be friends. What if she did a story on the cult? The press of public opinion might get the police more engaged.” Noah stood up and grabbed his phone from the table. He’d dialed before anyone else had a chance to move or speak.
“Hey, I shipped your stuff out this morning. You should have it—”
“Yeira, I need your help,” Noah cut her off, anxiety pushing the words out as they tumbled over one another.
“What’s up, Noah?” Her voice took on a seriousness he rarely heard, and he explained Kyle’s situation in a rush, finishing up with the receipts and their suspicions. The other end of the line was silent for a long moment. Noah could almost hear her brain working.
“Where is this?” she asked, and he could hear her moving around, probably looking for a pen. Yeira rarely went anywhere without her notebook.
“Montana.”
“Do you know exactly where?”
“There are addresses on the receipts,” Noah said, flipping through them. “Kyle, do you know where this place is?”
“No. I mean, I’d know it if I saw it. It’s outside Missoula. That’s where Mama put me on the bus, anyway,” Kyle said to the picture.
“Missoula,” Noah told Yeira.
“Okay, can you scan me copies of everything you have? I need to talk to my boss, but I think homegrown terrorists warrant a plane ride. What are you going to do?” He heard her typing, probably already messaging someone at the station.
“We’re going to try to keep Kyle hidden until someone can help him. His sister and some guy are here looking for this box. They know it exposes the camp. They’ll try to take it and him.” Noah looked at Kyle, who kept staring at the picture.
“You should get out of there,” Yeira warned. “Some of these people are militia and not to be messed with.”
“I can’t. I don’t have much time left.”
“I know you care about him, Noah. Is the store worth his life?” Her question punched him in the gut.
“We’ll be careful.” Noah disconnected the call and started to gather up all of the stuff from the box. His father had a multifunction scanner printer in the office. He could use that to send everything to her. Hopefully she’d be able to convince her boss to let her do something.
