Little One

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “Come on, Essie, wake up now,” Mary said. “We need to walk to our terminal.”

  Esther climbed out of the vehicle, stretching aching muscles as she closed the door behind her. They were in a loud carpark. Every tyre screech or revved engine bounced from one concrete wall to the other. Mary took her hand and they walked towards the main building, dodging taxis and vans as they rumbled past. For the first time, Esther was nervous. The stares from all the other people didn’t help. It was something she was trying to get used to, but didn’t understand. Sometimes she didn’t understand adults at all. Mary had tried to explain to her that their family dressed a little differently and other people tended to notice their appearance. She explained that sometimes different meant scary to people who didn’t want to learn about the experiences of others who aren’t like them. Then she’d gone on to tell Esther that Father was one of those people. He didn’t allow change. He didn’t allow anyone unique to be in their family, and she’d decided that Mary wasn’t the best person to listen to after all.

  They walked for what felt like a long time, before sitting on metal benches in an overcrowded but enormous room. There were constant bing bongs like loud doorbells and scratchy voices spoke in different languages through the sound system. After sitting for what felt like hours, they stood and queued for a while until finally handing over their documents. Elijah smiled and laughed with everyone he met. He kept putting his arm over Esther’s shoulder and showing her off like she was a doll or a trophy or a lab specimen. Even Mary made an effort to smile every now and then, nodding when a flight attendant leaned over and called Esther “cutie”.

  But Mary was not relaxed like Elijah, she was tensed up and quiet. Her eyes lingered on the documents that Elijah passed to the flight attendants and security people. Esther watched, wondering what Mary was thinking. Then she gave up, deciding that her mother was strange for not being happy to go back to Arizona.

  Finally, they got on the plane. After shuffling, waiting, breathing in other people’s smells, they found their seats and dropped into them.

  “It’s going to be a long journey, girls,” Elijah said. “This is just the beginning.”

  Mary pulled her long hair over her face as a shield. Esther supposed it was so other people wouldn’t notice her crying. Esther saw it though.

  “Don’t worry, honey.” Elijah patted the back of Mary’s hand. “Everything is going to be okay. Father James will welcome us back, you know he will.”

  Esther decided it was one of the only sensible things Elijah had ever said.

  “We lost our way for a while,” Elijah continued. “But we’re going back to Him now and all will be forgiven. He loves you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mary said.

  “Come on now, baby,” Elijah said. “I know you’re upset, but you also know we had to go, right? You know that don’t you? What with the people in that village and the Reckoning approaching…” Elijah shook his head. He lowered his voice slightly. “We have to go. We have to be there with them for the Reckoning.”

  Mary sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand while Esther nodded her head. She agreed with Elijah for a change. They did need to be back at the ranch for the Reckoning. How else would they finally find salvation? It was what Father James had promised to them and soon they would receive it. She smiled to herself as the airplane rolled along the runway.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  NOW

  Fran paced her hotel room, a thumbnail jammed between her front teeth. She was tired and hungry, and her skin tingled from a day in the hot weather. She’d started digging up information on the Children of James cult. Part of her wanted to go straight to the address on the leaflet and demand for them to release Mary and Esther. But she had to be smart about this.

  She ordered room service, drew the curtains to block out the sun, and turned the aircon up to max. As she walked back and forth, she mentally berated herself for not picking up on the clues sooner. The clothes. The distrust. Esther’s strange demeanour.

  Fran opened the pamphlet, started to read the information and found herself surprised. Not once was religion mentioned, and most references to the “Children of James” had been relegated to the back page, typed in a much smaller case so that it was barely noticeable. No, the material focused on their modern and highly scientific screening process to help potential “clients” realise their goal towards salvation. On the next page there were pictures of a sun setting behind some outbuildings and a man wearing sunglasses while riding a horse in the foreground. The words were all about reconnecting with nature and shedding the stress of modern life. It was about farming, physical labour and learning how to meditate.

  Who was James? There was little information about him in the leaflet. Fran opened up her laptop and searched for “Children of James cult”. There were many results, including a podcast episode dedicated to them. She began clicking through the results when her burger arrived.

  Settling back down on the bed, Fran dipped a chip into tomato ketchup and scrolled through pages of information. Most of it was just factual. It was founded in 1985 by Roger Devon, who apparently originally called the cult “Body and Soul”. However, he then changed his name to Father James and the cult became all about him. The Children of James. It seemed like a classic narcissist’s move. They started as a small commune in Nebraska before moving to a sprawling ranch in Tucson in the late nineties. Before settling in Tucson there were two locations believed to be part of the cult, the other being set up by one of Devon’s henchmen—nameless in the article—in Colorado. It seemed that eventually, the Colorado commune mostly disbanded, with some members leaving, and others moving to Tucson.

  Fran took a bite of her burger. This organisation didn’t seem harmless to her. No ex-members had given interviews about their experience in James’s “Family”, a name that eerily brought to mind the Mansons. The more Fran read, the more it seemed that ex-members were too afraid to tell their story. It was a small cult, yes, but it had some notoriety online. It was known as being close-knit, and isolated from the rest of the world. Father James was thought to have a group of bodyguards to protect him from enemies—who they termed “drains”—and few people left the cult once they joined.

  Half a burger sat on her plate, but she had no desire to eat it. She was nervous now. Judging by a few documentaries she’d seen about cults that operated in the seventies, getting an indoctrinated person out of one was tough.

  As she was pondering her next move, her phone buzzed. Fran unlocked the screen and smiled. Adrian had sent her a picture of the garden. It was sunny still. The fuchsias were in full bloom, dangling prettily over the garden fence. She sighed, wishing she was home. Yet at the same time she had to admit that part of her was enjoying this. She was investigating for the first time in many years and it was a serious investigation into a subject that mattered. When she regarded her notes, she realised that not all of them were helpful to Mary and Esther. Some of them were more about the cult itself. Could she write an article on this subject once she’d managed to get the Whitakers out of the cult? She wanted to; she knew that much.

  She sent Adrian a smiley face, before returning to her laptop where she typed in the website address for the cult. It was exactly what she expected: a slick design with bright colours and logos. Time had been taken to make this organisation appear legitimate. The “Children of James” moniker was used sparingly. They’d learnt to tone down their eccentricities over time. The seventies and eighties were ripe for the hippy aesthetic, but that wouldn’t do for the new generations.

  On the leaflet, it gave Fran instructions on how to organise a personality test that would help “optimise” Fran’s chances of salvation. She followed these now and found herself booking a meeting with a client manager to discuss her options. The meeting was for tomorrow, in Tucson city centre.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  THEN

  When they landed in Tucson, Esther watched
Mary run to the bathroom as though she was going to be sick. Elijah ignored it. He took hold of Esther’s hand and walked them towards baggage claim.

  “She’ll be all right,” he said. “It’s the heat is all. It’s a big change from England and she needs a moment to adjust.”

  “Are we going straight to the family?” Esther asked. She was eager to see them. Her friends were there. Grace and Paul and Delilah. “Can we get some chocolate on the way?”

  “Sure, honey.” He let go of her hand as they approached the revolving belt.

  “Will Father James be there?”

  “Yes, he will.”

  “Will the Reckoning be soon?”

  “Father thinks sometime around the end of the month.” Elijah crouched down so that they were the same height. He glanced around him. “Listen, it’s probably best not to talk about that in public. It might make other folks nervous.”

  Esther nodded solemnly. She didn’t like Elijah, but he was right about this. She watched him lean over the moving belt and remove one of their suitcases. Mary came back from the bathroom hiding her face with her hair. She pulled her sleeves over her fingers and her gaze darted about. When she smiled at Esther she did so sadly.

  “We all set?” Elijah asked Mary, his chin tilted down. Esther watched the two adults interact. The way Mary moved her head so fast, like she was afraid, and the strange stare Elijah gave her. Even though she was a child, she sensed that something she didn’t fully understand was going on.

  But Mary just needed to calm down. Everything would be fine once they reached the ranch.

  Elijah yanked the rest of the suitcases from the belt and stacked them onto another trolley. He even let Esther sit on top as he wheeled it through the airport. As promised, they stopped for a couple of Hershey’s bars from the gift shop. Grace loved Hershey’s chocolate. A picture of her freckled face came into Esther’s mind. She began remembering a lot about the ranch. The thought of the routine there settled her. It was prayers at sunrise, followed by homemade bread and porridge for breakfast before the children took the laundry to the machines. Then she and the other kids would water and tend to the vegetable garden. After that, they worked until sunset, sweeping the floors, dusting the farmhouse, helping in the kitchen or the animal barns when needed. They harvested vegetables when they were ready and sowed seeds when it was time to sow. The ranch adjusted to the seasons. They pickled and canned in fall, picked oranges and pecans in the winter, planted seeds in the spring and gorged on cantaloupes in the summer. Chocolate was a rare treat that came around maybe once or twice a year. She smiled, thinking about how excited Grace would be.

  But she’d been bad once. Her and Paul ventured beyond the gate by the road. They wanted to see what it was like once the ranch ended. Father told them if they liked it outside the ranch so much, they should sleep under the stars that night. Nature made children stronger. Made them survivors. She remembered sharing a blanket with Paul, their bodies shivering in the cold with the sound of coyotes in the distance. She’d barely slept, terrified a tarantula would crawl across her face. Esther had never been so afraid. But that was the point. Everyone had to feel fear.

  In the entrance of the airport, a man stood waiting for them. Esther saw him before she saw the other people milling around. He was as tall as Elijah, but skinnier. He had red hair which had not been brushed and his boots were still dusty from working. Esther grinned when she saw him.

  “Caleb.” Elijah clapped the man on the back. “Well, look at you. You’re taller. It’s good to see you.”

  “And you, Brother. I’m glad you’re home.” Caleb smiled and squeezed the cap he clutched between his fingers.

  “It’s good to be back.” Elijah grinned.

  Esther hopped down from the trolley and took a few strides closer to Caleb. He was one of the younger members of the family, slightly older and broader than a gangly teenager, but not by much.

  “Hello there, Esther,” Caleb said. “You’ve grown too.”

  “That’s right,” Esther said.

  He laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “Well then. Shall we take your bags to the truck?” His eyes barely lingered on Mary.

  “Yes, let’s,” Elijah said. “Man, I can’t wait to get back to the ranch.”

  Mary said nothing as Caleb helped Elijah with the suitcases. She continued to tug at her sleeves, worrying the fabric.

  “Father will be waiting for me,” Esther said. She wanted everyone to hurry up.

  Mary began to cry. “I’m not going.” She grabbed hold of Esther’s hand, squeezing tightly. Esther let out a whimper. She’d never felt Mary grip her hand like this before. It hurt. It felt like her bones were going to break. When Mary started backing up, Esther dug her heels down as hard as she could, but Mary was so forceful that it almost pulled her off her feet.

  “Now stop this.” Elijah dropped a suitcase in order to take Mary firmly by the elbow. “I won’t have this fussing from my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife!” Mary hissed.

  “Yes, you are. Caleb, help me a minute.”

  The two men took hold of Mary and marched her forwards. Eventually, Mary released Esther from her grip and crumpled inwards, sobbing. She seemed to lose the fight, and Elijah could pick up the suitcases once more. Caleb kept one hand on Mary’s elbow. Esther noticed people staring at them, but when she looked at them, they turned away.

  “Everything’s going to be fine, Mary. He isn’t mad at you,” Caleb said. “If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. He can’t wait to see you.”

  “Shut up, Caleb,” Mary snapped. “Fine. I’ll come with you because I need to look after Esther, and I know you won’t let me leave with her. I hate this, and I hate Him.”

  Esther’s gaze shot up to her mother’s. She hated Him? Father? How could her mother hate her Father? She felt sad all of a sudden and she despised Mary for it. Now she had to remember the bad things, too, and she’d been trying so hard not to.

  Chapter Sixty

  NOW

  There were questions on Fran’s phone. All of them from Adrian. How are you? When are you coming home? What have you found? She rolled over in the hotel bed and exhaled into the cooling linens. She knew he wouldn’t approve of what she was about to do, and for that reason, she didn’t tell him everything. I’m fine. I’m not sure yet. Not a lot. But I have reported them missing and now I guess I need to wait and see if the police find anything. She didn’t tell him anything about the cult and she especially didn’t tell him that she had a meeting with Caleb.

  The guilt of that churned in her stomach. She was nervous about the meeting anyway, so she decided to skip breakfast and spend some extra time in the shower letting cold water run over her. The anxiety made her homesick for her morning runs, her husband’s hands, the familiarity of her garden or favourite chair. But she’d been the one to call the police on the Whitakers and in her mind that made her complicit in whatever consequences had arisen from that scenario. And… well, she didn’t want to admit how much she enjoyed following this lead.

  She wore linen trousers and a halter-neck, packed her notebook, pen and the cult leaflet into a tote bag and called a taxi on the way out of the hotel. It was another scorching day and she waited in the foyer before the taxi arrived.

  It was surprising but logical that the initial meeting with the cult would take place in Tucson city rather than the ranch. They obviously wanted to feel her out before she was allowed access to the Children of James family. She imagined them as an inner circle of acolytes. A closed, paranoid community of devotees.

  The taxi dropped her off outside an office building next to a disused Blockbuster and a small pharmacy. It was the kind of drab, grey place you’d assume belonged to a government department. She found the appropriate buzzer for the floor she needed and pressed it.

  A moment later, a man’s voice said hello through the speaker.

  “Hi, I’m Francesca, I’m here for the meeting,” she replied.

&n
bsp; “Great. Come in. Take the elevator up to the third floor and I’ll meet you at the entrance.” He had exactly the kind of reassuring, upbeat but not intense voice you’d assume a cult recruiter would have.

  Fran pushed the door and went inside. The walls were cool blue, like shallow water. It was an old lift, but nowhere near as creaky as the one in Noah Martinez’s apartment block. The memory of it made her swallow nervously. But it was a blissfully short journey and the doors opened to a man with red hair rocking back and forth on his heels. He was dressed in a checked, cotton shirt and worker’s boots. He greeted her with an easy smile before stepping forward to shake her hand.

  “Hi Francesca, I’m Caleb. It’s great to meet you.”

  “And you.”

  “Follow me through here, it’s just in this meeting room. Not far. Did you find us okay?” He filled the silences with chatter as they traversed a grey-carpeted corridor of white doors and panelled walls. They stepped into a small meeting room with yet another white door adjacent to a computer desk.

  “Oh, yes, no problem.”

  “Your accent is just lovely if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Not at all,” Fran said with a forced smile.

  Caleb sat down on one side of the desk and gestured for her to take the other. She ended up sitting in front of the computer and guessed that she would have to use it at some point.

  “Now, I know you’ve come here expecting some sort of hard sell. I’m sure you have all kinds of opinions about what we do here and lots of concerns. That’s all completely fine. If you’ve been in Arizona a while, you might have heard people saying not nice things about us. Look, I’m not going to talk your ear off and try to change your mind. Honestly, our methods speak for themselves and I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Children of James is all about finding inner peace. Salvation, if you like. It takes hard work to find it, but once you do, you’ll wonder why you haven’t lived like this your whole life.”