by C
“Nasir, what would we ever do without you? I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to repay you.” Mark set his cup of water down on the back table. “Thank you again for coming and bringing us this food, for risking your life to help us.”
“Were the roles reversed, there is no doubt in my mind that you would provide the same service, most willingly and generously.” Nasir then looked at Amanda. “Yet it appears as though I have brought too little. Your numbers have increased.”
“You’re not the only one with news tonight.” Ken stood near Nasir, his eyebrows raised and face attentive, as though he were about to conduct a deposition.
Nasir walked toward Amanda, and she stood to greet him. “Nasir Khalaf.” He extended his hand, shaking hers.
Her palm was sweaty … he probably noticed that.
“As-salāmu ʿalayki. Peace be upon you.”
“Thanks. My name’s Amanda … Amanda Burrow.”
“Burrow?” Joe had been studying the bottom of his chipped bowl for any remnants of soup, but now his head shot up, a look of shock on his face. “Your last name’s Burrow?”
“The name rings a bell, doesn’t it?” Mark cleared away Joe’s soup bowl. “You must be thinking of Kevin Burrow. We used to see him every Sunday at church. Kevin was in charge of our local opposition group.”
Joe still stared at Amanda, his eyes pondering undisclosed thoughts. “Uh-huh …”
Nasir guided the conversation back to its purpose, and the interrogation commenced: “When did you arrive here, Amanda?”
“Yesterday.”
“And how did you know about this place?”
“I showed her! It was me!” Rachel pointed at herself. “I found Amanda and Boots!”
“That’s true.” Amanda nodded. “The JPD followed me and I had to escape into the mountains. Rachel found me yesterday morning.”
“So you are involved with the opposition party, then? That’s why the JPD was searching for you?”
“Like Mark said, my dad led the local opposition group. I came home one day and found my family missing. Right after that, some JPD officers showed up at my front door and chased me with their attack dog. Somehow I escaped, with the help of my sister’s horse—Boots, like Rachel said. I began wandering through the woods, and a few days passed. I had no food left. I didn’t know what else to do … I had just about lost all hope. And then Rachel found me.”
Nasir started to reply, but Bethany interrupted, resting her hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “It was a miracle you found us! I can’t even imagine … traveling all alone in this wilderness? That takes such faith!”
“Like mother, like daughter.”
Amanda blinked in surprise at Linda’s offhanded comment, made from the half shadows where she sat. “You … You knew my mom?”
“I assumed you would have remembered. Julia and I ran the women’s group at church together.”
Unexpected warmth toward Linda surged within Amanda at that moment. Linda had known her mom. Strangely enough, that knowledge didn’t bring pain or crippling sorrow. No, it was almost like hearing a soft whisper of her mom’s voice in the room, reassuring her that she wasn’t completely gone …
Apparently satisfied with this initial questioning, Nasir had already moved on to a more pressing topic. He and Mark were conversing heatedly.
“It happened some time yesterday afternoon,” Mark explained. “It didn’t pass directly over the cabin, thankfully. If we’d had the fire going at that point, I’m sure it would have given us away.”
Nasir frowned. “And this is the first helicopter you’ve seen in the area?”
“It is first, but not last.” The normally taciturn Father Voloshin spoke in a deep, accented voice. “Our enemy draws closer.”
“We must take even greater precaution. There is only one recourse.” Nasir surveyed the group. “There can be no more fires during the day. The smoke will draw unnecessary attention.”
So no more heat for warmth or cooking. Fire had become another luxury. Amanda cringed inside. She had brought nothing but harm to these kind people: first they sacrificed some of their food for her, now their fire.
“You’re right, of course.” Mark cleared his throat, nodding. “It won’t be easy, but we can make do without fire. The alternative is much worse.”
Linda stood, hands on her hips. “Not easy! How are we supposed to cook?”
“Food doesn’t have to be served warm,” Mark said. “Cold food is better than no food, right?”
Amanda interrupted any further argument with her own burning question: “Nasir, do you know anything about the people who have gone missing? Where can I find my family?”
“I do have news.” Nasir’s grim tone and pained expression stemmed any hope of good news.
“Nasir!” Bethany gripped the edge of her seat. “Please … what did you learn?”
“We have strong reason to believe that the NCP has detained many of the missing persons at a high-security confinement area, approximately a hundred miles west of here.”
“A confinement area?” Joe cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? Like a prison?”
Ken’s eyes narrowed. “A prison … or a concentration camp?”
Nasir frowned. “My apologies. We haven’t been able to ascertain details regarding the exact nature of the facility.”
Bethany placed one hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “And David? Do you have any news about my husband?”
Nasir shook his head. “I am sorry. We don’t know the identity of any of the captives at this site. The opposition is working to formulate a rescue mission. It is highly complicated. The confinement area has the strongest defenses. When we act, it must be with a realistic expectation of success. Yet we don’t know how much time we have, since there is a rumor that the NCP may be giving some of the prisoners the ‘final freedom.’”
A weighty silence hung upon the room, and Amanda looked from face to face, the alarmed expressions making her dread the answer to the question she was now about to ask. “What’s the ‘final freedom’?”
Nasir turned toward her. “In the eyes of the NCP, these prisoners are a threat to society—and to themselves. Their steadfast loyalty to a natural law and moral code is their own self-inflicted prison, more harmful and terrible than any confinement area. The NCP views this mental imprisonment as especially grave, since the individuals are blind to it. When the prisoners refuse to reconsider their ideology, they are given the ‘final freedom’—a once-and-for-all escape from their oppressive philosophy. To the NCP, it is an act of mercy because it is a release from pain; it is a merciful death because it relieves the prisoner’s suffering.”
Terror clutched at Amanda’s heart and her voice shook as she said, “So they may all be executed.”
Ken swore under his breath. “Yes, and it’s awfully convenient for the NCP to be free of their loudest and most threatening objectors, isn’t it? ‘Mercy’ is just a pretty name for slaughter in this case.”
“We are making progress,” Nasir assured. “Previously, we didn’t know the whereabouts of the prisoners. Now that we do, we can begin to take measures to free them.”
“Of course. Yes, that all makes sense.” Bethany seemed to try to recompose herself, though her face remained ghostly white. “There’s never a reason to lose hope.”
“I do have another piece of news: there was an attack,” Nasir said. “It happened last week, in the city, on the night that a large opposition meeting was taking place. We lost many talented, dedicated, and good people. No one survived the bombing.” He took a deep breath. Nasir looked downward and his voice grew quiet: “I was supposed to be at that meeting. Yet I was detained: I came here first, and the traffic on the way back to the city delayed me. I never reached the meeting. You may say that I have saved your lives; yet you have certainly saved mine.”
“Nasir … we’re so sorry …” Bethany dabbed at her tears with the cuff of her sleeve.
Ken rub
bed his chin. “Where was the attack?”
“St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It’s destroyed beyond recognition.”
Amanda jumped where she sat, her chest tightening and her face hot with shame.
Mark began pacing back and forth. “Nasir, what can we do? People are out there risking their lives! You’ve risked your life! There must be something we can do to help.”
Amanda’s breath caught, and her eyes went wide as she stood up. “There’s something I can do. Hold on a minute.” Taking the stairs two at a time, she hurried to the upstairs loft and opened her book bag. Her fingers brushed against the cool, smooth metal of Ethan’s laptop. She pulled it out and fingered the sleek, haughty NCP engraving in the corner. She had to be on the offensive now: she had to do everything in her power to help her family. Maybe this could save them.
She reentered the downstairs room, questioning eyes staring at her. She swallowed uneasily. “You’ve all taken me in, without question or criteria. But my being here has put all of your lives in danger by drawing the JPD closer. And I’m sorry because I haven’t been completely forthright with you. I lived in New York City right before I came here. I didn’t know what the NCP was doing with those who opposed the party. I was ignorant and stupid. My boyfriend turned out to be one of the leaders of the NCP, and … well, it’s a long story, but I decided to leave him. Out of anger toward him, I took his work laptop.” She placed the computer in Nasir’s hands. “Maybe you can give this to someone who could do some good with it.”
Joe leaned forward on the wicker chair. “Awesome! Taking down the enemy with his own weapon! Cha-ching!”
Ken swore—this time much louder than he should have—and rubbed his hands together. “Talk about a smoking gun. Just picture all the plans and notes and maps that must be on that thing! And if we can hack into their internal network and sign in to all their accounts …” He gazed ahead, a gleam in his eyes. “This has incredible potential.”
“Man, they could even send a phishing email from his account to NCP staffers with top security clearance and use his influence to get in!” Joe’s face glowed. “Think of the malicious ransomware we could infect their network with! Those jerks will be on their knees!”
“When did you learn so much about computers?” Mark cocked an eyebrow at his son.
Joe lifted a single shoulder and let it drop. “I dunno … messin’ around on the family computer. You learn stuff.”
Nasir stared at the laptop. “In light of this, I must leave immediately. But first, I will tell you that the NCP must be already suspicious regarding this location if the JPD is sending drone helicopters here. They are thorough in their work. They will be back here; of that I am certain. The longer you stay, the greater your peril. I think there is only one plausible solution: you must leave.”
Linda stirred from her sullen state, her eyebrows raised. “Leave? When? Where would we go?”
“We will not wait a moment longer than necessary. But this new business will likely take me away from you for a greater period than usual.” Nasir wrapped the laptop in one of the empty paper bags. “Also, I will need to send someone from the city to provide extra support for the relocation. I believe you will be safe for a little while longer. We shall pray that it is so.” He walked toward Amanda and shook her hand again. “Thank you for this.”
She gave a tiny nod. “Whatever I can do to help my family.”
With that, Nasir bade them farewell. He exited the cabin and was soon swallowed in the darkness of the night.
“Good developments are happening out there. And, as always, we can do nothing but wait.” Mark threw another log on the fire.
“We can pray.” Father Voloshin stood up. “Let not forget: God gives opportunities, to battle against Enemy, so we overcome and be victorious. Even here, in isolated cabin, we can rise up against evil always lurking inside and find ways to conquer. Nothing shows good side of mankind better than individuals willing to stand up to evil. Make use of time we been given.”
Bethany nodded. “Yes, of course.” She looked down. Rachel slept once again, her head resting on Bethany’s shoulder. “I’ll put Rachel upstairs to bed and be back in a minute for prayer.”
Mark walked over to Amanda. “You probably noticed that we gather for prayer each evening. Would you want to join us tonight?”
She cringed. She was a neophyte in the world of spirituality and could barely pray alone—how could she pray with others? “Well, I think it’s past my bedtime too.”
It was a lame effort at humor. No one laughed.
“Maybe tomorrow night, then. Linda, Joe, and I will take shifts tonight keeping watch. If you need anything at all, you can find us downstairs, okay?”
Amanda nodded, then walked upstairs. Ken stood nearby, holding the sole candle, which cast just enough light to distinguish object from shadow. Bethany tucked a blanket around Rachel and then, after a silent wave, returned downstairs.
Ken walked toward Amanda and held the light between them. “So you’re not joining the Kumbaya circle either?”
“I’m more into private prayer, I guess.”
“Yeah, you like keeping things private, don’t you? You know, I haven’t trusted you since day one. I knew that you weren’t telling us the whole story, that you had something to hide. Never guessed it was an NCP laptop. Thanks for not screwing us over.”
Ken blew out the candle, giving her no chance to respond, and then made his way to a pile of blankets on the other side of the loft. Amanda stood in the darkness, listening to the sound of Rachel’s breathing, unhurried and tranquil. Father Voloshin’s baritone voice boomed from below: “We pray for Your guidance, protection, and for help we need …”
Amanda lay down on a blanket, pulling her book bag nearby and resting her head on the loft floor. She extended her right hand, and her fingers fell upon familiar material: canvas. She sat up and groped around until she held the object: her painting. In the dark, she couldn’t see it, but running her fingers across the surface confirmed it. The ripped canvas was unmistakable.
She visualized Ethan’s face, his unrelenting gaze upon her, and the darkness around her became much more unwelcome. Whatever she did and wherever she went, he followed. Even here, miles and miles from the city, she could almost sense his presence—the ripped canvas reminding her of his smell, his voice, his touch …
Amanda clenched her teeth, cursing each moment she had spent with him. She fought the memory of that afternoon when she had wandered into the lounge and seen him for the first time. Why me? He could have been with any girl. And yet … he picked me. The bitter regret, like an infected wound, filled her.
Where were You when I went to Ethan’s apartment with my painting? That’s when I needed You the most. Why didn’t You stop me? Are You a God of silence? Things could have been so different. But they aren’t.
She lay motionless for a long while, trying to listen.
Was it me? Maybe You were there, calling out to me … and I wouldn’t listen. Maybe I shut You out for so long that when You tried to intervene, I couldn’t even hear You.
She slept poorly, the image of Ethan never leaving her. When the first indication of light hinted at the eastern horizon, she lifted her blanket and rose, the canvas held in her arms. She tiptoed down the rickety stairs, trying not to awaken the others who still slept. When she reached the first floor, she spotted Joe. He was slumped on the small crate from which he sat guard, snoring. She grimaced. This was not the most ideal way to guard the cabin, but at least she could pass outside unnoticed.
It was a dismal November morning. Drizzle fell in sheets from a gray sky—in fact, the whole world looked gray. She walked for a while and then stopped beneath a bare maple tree to look at her painting one final time. The canvas, her treasured painting, had become nothing but a reminder of Ethan. He had irreversibly tainted it. … Why even carry around something so irredeemable? Yet she couldn’t bear to destroy it herself, to shred it or to bleed the colors indistinguishable in
the stream. That was too violent. It just had to be out of sight, someplace where it wouldn’t haunt her anymore.
She bent down and began digging in the soft earth with her hands. She never should have revealed her painting to Ethan. But it was too late for that. She had made her choice—a choice that could never be undone.
Why didn’t I wait? Why did I give in to him?
She buried the painting and then covered it with a leafy blanket. No one passing by would realize its presence. And as for her, she wouldn’t be able to retrace these same steps into the woods to this precise spot. It would be impossible for her to find this particular tree, the one that marked the burial place of her painting. Only the dirt smudged beneath her fingernails provided evidence of the deed.
With her eyesight blurred by tears, Amanda wiped her hands on her jeans and walked away. She had buried her painting and, with it, a piece of herself.
Chapter Twenty
Know Your Enemy
Amanda knelt on the floor of the downstairs room, sorting clothes and preparing them for cleaning—today’s chore. She welcomed the task: doing something, as menial as it might be, was better than doing nothing. She didn’t like the thoughts and memories that plagued her when she was idle. Almost two weeks had passed since Nasir had come and she’d given him Ethan’s laptop. She struggled to go through each day, knowing something big was probably happening out there, yet having no idea what it might be. Now she did the only thing left to do: pray that her dad and Chiara were alive and safe.
Bethany, also helping with the laundry, called to Rachel, “Honey, please grab your dress and my sweater, okay?”
Rachel ran upstairs, and Bethany took a deep breath. She eased herself onto a crate, her hand holding her lower back, a look of pain on her face.
Amanda set down the clothes and watched her, troubled. “Umm … is everything okay?”
“The baby must be sitting right on a nerve.” Bethany exhaled, her eyes closed. “Each week, laundry day seems to get harder. I guess that’s a good sign: baby is growing.”
