Fran scoffed at that. “Your barely organised cult has its own Wikipedia page, Adrian!”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know.”
“So, you bought a ranch here and started stealing children.”
He shook his head. “We moved around a bit and James settled here. I swear I haven’t visited in decades. I swear I didn’t know anything about the kidnapped children. That’s why I’m here. I need to put things right.” He straightened his back. “I have to stop him.”
“Give me your phone. I’m calling the police,” Fran said.
But Adrian shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You don’t understand how fraught the situation is right now.”
His eyes met hers and held her gaze. For a moment Fran was taken back to their wedding day, to the exchange of vows and rings. To the kiss they shared and the blissful years following. She’d considered their marriage a happy one right up until Chloe died. And even afterwards, if she was honest, they’d found comfort and love and, yes, happiness. But now every memory was tainted. She gasped at the spreading agony emanating from her chest. A stabbing realisation that this was it, their marriage would never recover.
“Please,” Adrian said, and she wasn’t sure if he was talking about her calling the police, or about their relationship.
Fran grasped his belt and reached into Adrian’s trouser pocket to snatch the phone. She was his wife. She knew which pocket he always kept his phone. She did it so quickly he didn’t have time to react and then she walked away. There was no way she’d remember the Detective’s number by heart so all she could do was dial 911. But as she placed the phone to her ear, Adrian knocked it from her hand. The blow caught her off guard, shoving the phone roughly against the side of her head before it tumbled out between her fingers. She turned to him, mouth agape.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s for your own good. You have no idea what’s going on here. Call the police, and James will start the Reckoning early. He’s been gearing up for it these last weeks and all he needs is a catalyst. I think that’s why he’s invited you here tonight. I think he probably knows you’ve been poking your nose into the cult’s business. He has people followed, you know. He knows you’re going to start it. He wants it to start.”
“The Reckoning?” Fran rubbed her ear where it throbbed. Her face was hot with shame and it was hard to concentrate on what Adrian was saying.
“James believes that there will be a time when God ends the world but chooses those he wants to save. He says he knows when the end of the world will come and that only his children will survive. In reality, he’s hoping for a fight with the police. Just like Jonestown, just like Waco. He’s going to kill all of these people, Fran. Listen, we’re on a knife edge and I’m sorry but I had to knock that phone away. Anything could set him off...”
Her stomach sank to her knees. She pulled her eyes away from Adrian towards the group sitting on their benches watching Father James pontificate in front of the bonfire.
“He’s dying,” Adrian said. “He has cancer. That’s why he doesn’t care anymore. He wants to take them all with him because he doesn’t want to die alone. If the police turn up, his men are going to shoot first.” Adrian lifted his arm and pointed to the thickset bodyguards. “Do you understand?”
She counted four, maybe five of them. She nodded to show that she understood, and Adrian lowered his arm. Just then, Fran heard the sound of cars.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Esther considered following Fran and Father Adam in order to listen to their conversation, but then she realised that she didn’t care enough to go. At least now she’d succeeded in getting Fran away from the group. There was no way that Fran would join the family now. Maybe both Fran and Adam would go away, and she could go back to being Father James’s daughter in a world that made sense to her. A world with rules and boundaries and order.
She did as Adam told her to do and sat down near Mary. Her mother didn’t appear to have noticed Fran and Adam walking away. Drool dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Esther used a tissue from her pocket to wipe it away. She usually carried tissues in case one of the younger children needed to blow their nose. When Mary’s lopsided mouth smiled, Esther felt a surge of tears threatening to spill and a tingling in her nose. She turned sharply away from Mary, forcing herself to concentrate on Father James’s sermon.
“The Reckoning cannot be stopped. It is for sinners. It is for those who have ignored the warnings, who have turned their backs on God. It is for those who have lived selfishly. But my children you are not those people. You are the ones he has chosen, and you will be free to live in His garden for eternity.” There were some mumbles and utterances of agreement. Esther bobbed her head along with them. “I’m waiting for a sign, children. When I receive that sign, I’ll show you the way. Will you listen to me when the sign comes?”
“Yes,” they said.
“Yes,” Esther said.
“It’s almost upon us,” he said. “You must listen to me, children.” Father James was smiling now, his head tilted up to the sky. He raised his hands above his head. “The sign will be outsiders. It will be those who wish to do us harm. They are almost here.” Father’s arms began to shake. His body spasmed and contorted. One of the bodyguards stepped forward but Father pushed him away. He was speaking in tongues now, his body pulsating and flickering like the flames behind him. She wanted to look away from the sight, but she couldn’t. The fire made her eyes burn. She felt the heat of it on her skin. Had the wind changed?
When Esther heard the cars coming down the dirt track, she turned to them in surprise. With the entire family in the fire field, who could it be? She felt a prickling sensation spread over her scalp. An indigo sky settled around them and the wind stirred. The flames bent back and forth, like reeds of grass folding in a gale. The cars stopped and several men stepped out.
Police.
She watched Father stop spasming and turn to them. He did not seem as surprised as the rest of the group. In fact, he was nodding his head as though he knew they were coming. Esther considered whether God had told him they would be arriving tonight. Or perhaps Fran had brought them with her. That seemed like something Fran would do.
Father faced the group once more and pressed his hands together as though in prayer. “Then so be it. God has chosen his moment. The Reckoning begins tonight.”
The hum of murmuring spread through the family. Someone near to Esther said, “How did they get in?” and she saw someone else shrug.
Esther’s eyes sought out Isaiah and then each of the other henchmen. The police got in because no one was watching the gate. Suddenly, Mary took hold of Esther’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“Are you paying attention, children?” Father James smiled. He was calm and seemingly at peace. Even though Esther knew she should be feeling that same sense of peace, she couldn’t stem the panic coursing through her body.
Angel, with Judith still in her arms, rose to her feet. “Father, is this the sign? Is it now? What do we do?”
Esther’s heartbeat quickened as she watched the police—led by a short, stocky man with dark skin—walk leisurely through the fields. Father James gave them a dismissive glance before speaking again.
“This is the sign,” he said. “Isaiah, you know what to do.”
Isaiah walked away from the fire, presumably to gather up the other bodyguards.
“We will go to the house,” Father said. “We will prepare ourselves for the garden.”
Amongst the murmurs, the benches creaked and cracked as people clambered over them to get away from the throng. Boots scuffed against the dusty ground. As the crowd began to disperse, Esther searched through the moving bodies for Grace, but someone stood in front of her, blocking her view. She got to her feet and twisted herself around their torso, and at the same time, she saw Zachary reach for his weapon. In the distance, the police froze. They reached for their weapons too. She gasped, pushed her way to th
e front and stood before Father.
His eyes locked with hers and he said, “It’s time, Esther. You know what to do.”
Right from the crack of the first gunshot, chaos reigned. Esther threw herself down to the dirt and crawled slowly through a tangle of benches and chairs, spiky grass and scurrying feet. The explosions were like fireworks pop-popping above her head, bang-banging jolts that ran through her body like electricity. Someone kicked her in the ribs while hurrying away. A grown man tripped over her and screamed in her face. At times she curled up into a ball, and other times she felt the weight of shoes stomping on her fingers. She felt as though she was going to cry until a strong hand reached down and grabbed her by the shoulder.
Elijah.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I need to go to the storm shelter,” she said.
“Then run.”
As he left in the opposite direction with his violin, she tried to compose herself. There was too much shock running through her body to run, as Elijah had instructed her to do. Through the screams and the shots, the floating embers and flickering flames, she saw Grace huddling beneath a bench, head tucked into her knees, arms wrapped around her body. Esther forced her way through a barrage of panicked people, dipped low and grabbed Grace’s hand. When the girl lifted her head there was terror in her eyes, but then the terror gave way to recognition. As Grace slid out from underneath the bench, Paul appeared at her side, his white tunic covered in dust.
“Make sure the other kids get to the shelter,” Esther said, forcing herself to be brave enough to look at the chaos and take in what was happening.
She saw that the police were sheltering behind their vehicles. She saw Isaiah crouched low behind a stack of hay bales and trestle tables that had been turned on their side. She saw that many of the others were running towards the farmhouse. She tugged Grace’s hand and started running in the opposite direction, but before they were away from the fire field, in her peripheral vision, she noticed Zachary throwing petrol on the dry grass around the bonfire. She thought of Mary then. Should she be with her mother? No, she didn’t think so. She had to do what Father James asked her to do.
Paul and the others joined the rear as they sprinted towards the yard. They were in the middle of a cluster of half a dozen people, including Angel, Aaron and the baby. Angel seemed to be staying close to the children so that they weren’t alone.
Once near the horse barn, Esther and Grace veered away towards the storm shelter. But on their way, someone knocked Stinky to the ground. Esther paused and helped him up while Grace took David, the youngest, by the hand and helped him across the open space.
Esther longed to be far from the hands that shoved her out of the way. The pummelling feet of the adults, the cries and chaos and gunfire. She hadn’t understood what the Reckoning would look or sound like, but she’d never pictured this. Why had God made it so scary? Why did God want her to be afraid?
“I don’t like this,” Grace said as Esther pulled open the creaking storm shelter door. “I want to be with the adults.”
“We can’t be,” Esther said. “We have to be alone. That’s what Father James said.” She kept the door open as Paul and the others hurried in. “Don’t worry, he told me what to do.”
Grace was crying. “What did he say? What are we supposed to do?”
“All we need to do is drink something,” Esther replied. “We drink it and we go to sleep and when we wake up, the Reckoning is over and we can play in God’s garden. We’ll be saved.”
When Grace moved through the doorway, Esther paused for a moment and watched as Zachary fell to the ground in the distance. There weren’t many people still out in the open, most were close to or had made it to the farmhouse. She couldn’t see Father James or Mary. The fire had spread to the elephant tree. She was pretty sure Zachary had been shot. She closed the door to block out the popping gunfire and the smoke already blowing their way.
Chapter Eighty-Three
After the first crack of gunfire, Adrian tried to push Fran down to the ground, but she forced him away. Her eyes were on Mary and Esther. She staggered forward, throwing Adrian’s hand from her shoulder. She saw the cult leader shouting something at the crowd, but she barely made out the words. All she knew was that it set the group running for their lives. As she hurried towards the fire, the others ran in the opposite direction, crowding her until she lost sight of the two girls.
Fran forced her way through flailing limbs and hard torsos, sticking out her arms and elbows to make room. The push and pull of the crowd made her sway and stagger, hot bodies slammed into her. Finally, she saw Mary stooped over by the fire, her mouth open in a scream she could barely hear over the yelling of the others.
“Esther! I can’t find her.” Mary lifted her trembling hands to her face. Her body shook.
“It’s okay,” Fran said. “I’ll help you.”
She wrapped an arm around the skinny young woman and moved her away from the fire.
“Fran,” Mary gasped. “She was here, right here, and now she’s gone. I don’t know where she went. I… I got away from James’s men. People are just running everywhere. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll find her,” Fran said, but as she scanned the area for signs of children, she saw none.
Adrian took Mary’s free elbow and Fran didn’t stop him. She hated him, but she needed his help, too. They turned their backs on the fire and the police cars, making their way towards the yard. She heard a whoosh behind her. Fran checked over her shoulder. What she saw almost brought her to a standstill, but there was no time. Someone had poured an accelerant over the fire. Adrian was right, a mass murder would occur here tonight, and she would be among the victims if she didn’t think carefully through her next move.
They hurried towards the horse barn where she saw Father James hobbling along, guided by a younger man. Caleb. Caleb let go of James to open the barn doors. He disappeared inside, presumably to let out the horses.
“I know where the children are,” Mary said, pulling Fran’s attention back. She stopped and pointed towards a cluster of dry bushes away from the outhouses. Fran saw nothing.
“Did they run away, Mary? I can’t see them.”
“She means the storm shelter,” Adrian said. “The children sleep underground.”
Even in the context of what she’d seen and heard since arriving at the ranch, Fran tasted disgust in her mouth. These people made their children sleep underground during an Arizona summer. She pursed her lips together and concentrated on what came next: finding Esther; saving the children. Mary’s bony hand gripped hers as they dashed towards the cluster of bushes. They had to get to the children. They had to.
A panicked horse cantered past them, ebony hooves kicking up dust. It’s flared nostrils and wide eyes would have horrified Fran in any other situation, but they had too much to worry about now. She saw it gallop towards a long line of low flames simmering through the grass before rearing and tearing at the compacted dirt.
Suddenly a voice boomed out through the PA system. “This is the Reckoning. You are my chosen children. It’s time to take the medicine provided in the farmhouse. All adults must come to the farmhouse. Children go to the storm shelter.”
Fran watched the blanket of flames unfurl across the dry ground. Poison and fire, she thought. That was how he was going to murder them. A menacing cloud of smoke gathered around them. She coughed and covered her mouth, blinked as ashes drifted by. In the middle of pandemonium, they were still, all three of them at a loss. The way to the shelter was on fire. The bushes were on fire. They had to put out the flames if they were going to be able to get to the kids.
“Stay with Mary,” she shouted to Adrian, her eyes fixed on the horse barn.
But he caught her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“The animals will have water troughs.”
Fran noticed his eyes trail towards the barn and the stacked hay that was beginning to catch fire. “I�
��ll go.”
“No, I can—”
“I’ll go,” he insisted. “Keep Mary low and away from the fire.” He pointed to a tall cactus. “Stay behind there. I won’t be long.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
Esther performed a quick headcount. They were all here. Grace, Paul, Stinky, Delilah and David. Judith would be with Angel in the farmhouse by now. She walked over to the tiny bathroom area, took a key from her pocket, knelt down and removed a metal box from behind the toilet. She sat crossed legged on the floor with the box in front of her. She was there for a few moments when she sensed someone standing behind her.
“You have one too.”
Esther turned around to see Paul behind her, holding a key that was identical to her own. She stood up and walked over to him so that she could examine it.
“Father James gave it to me,” Paul said. “He told me that we had to use it during the Reckoning. I have to open the box now.”
“No,” Esther said. “Father asked me to open the box.”
“Fine, open it then.” Paul shrugged.
Esther glanced at the box on the floor. She knew Father wanted her to use what was inside. But she also knew that Father had married Mary when she was too young, and that Father Adam didn’t think God talked through Father James at all. What if Adam was right? It was hard to know when it seemed as though every adult she knew lied or concealed things from her. Even Mary had lied about who she was meeting that night in the woods.
And Missy had died. What did that mean?
“I’ll do it.” Paul bent down and scooped up the box.
She followed him out of the bathroom and into the area where they slept. It was even hotter than usual. They had the fan on, but it didn’t do much against the fire outside. Paul put the box down on the ground and sat on his mattress. Her heart skipped a beat as he placed the key into the lock.
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