A Merciful Promise

by Elliot, Kendra

  Truman sympathized. It wasn’t every day you were shown a picture of a dead body. To his surprise, Darrell asked to see it again and planted his feet in preparation as Bolton obliged. This time his face didn’t change, but he held his breath until he looked away.

  “That’s enough,” Darrell said, closing his eyes for a long second. He squared himself and looked at both men. “Just wanted to make sure. I was a bit shocked the first time. Don’t know the poor soul.”

  They shook hands and then returned to Bolton’s Explorer.

  “Had second thoughts about showing him the photo,” Bolton said as he started the vehicle.

  “Same. He did okay, though.”

  “Thought we might get lucky. Let’s try the next property.”

  Truman nodded and turned his attention out the window, recalling Darrell’s shock at the photo. People believed they could handle the sight of death; they saw it in movies and on TV.

  Death in real life wasn’t the same.

  Not at all.

  SEVEN

  A few minutes after Mercy had arrived in America’s Preserve, she stood outside one of the larger buildings with Chad and Ed. “Why can’t you go with me?” Mercy asked Chad in a soft voice, looking from him to Ed and back, playing up the girlfriend role.

  “Pete does the first interview alone,” Chad reassured her. He rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms as if she was cold. Which she was. It was easily ten degrees cooler in the hills than in the town. Reassurance shone in Chad’s gaze, and Mercy assumed it was for her as an agent and for Jessica as a newbie.

  The compound’s buildings were a few hundred yards inside the gate. The roads had fresh gravel, and a few of the buildings had new coats of paint. The other buildings clearly needed their siding replaced and attention paid to their roofs. Mercy wondered if the new paint hid structural issues or if they’d been repaired first.

  She reviewed the satellite map in her memory. Her perspective felt skewed. It was one thing to look at a picture and another to be standing on the grounds. Somewhere far to her left was the area with the new building and the carport. The structure she currently stood before was freshly painted and had a formal-looking placard on the door that read COMMAND CENTER.

  Rather pretentious.

  Ed opened the door and waited. Chad gave her an encouraging look and a long kiss on the lips and then stepped back. Mercy adjusted her duffel on her shoulder and followed Ed indoors. Inside was dark compared to the bright sunshine outdoors. The windows were small, and she suspected the faded plaid curtains had belonged to the original camp. It smelled slightly sour, as if someone had spilled milk and never cleaned it up. Ed helped her shrug off the heavy bag. “I’ll take your purse too.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took her phone out of her purse and handed it to her. “Hold on to this.” His eyes were earnest. “Remember. Impress him.”

  She nodded and slipped the phone in her pants pocket.

  He set the bags on a large table surrounded by mismatched chairs and then knocked on the door labeled COMMANDER.

  Someone inside spoke, and Ed opened the door a few inches, waving her through.

  Ed didn’t take my bags to be helpful; he’s going to search them.

  Mercy entered the small office and recognized Pete Hodges from the ATF photos at her briefing. He stepped out from behind his desk and shook her hand, never breaking eye contact. His clear gray gaze was friendly, his face slightly battered by life, stating he’d earned the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. The ATF photos hadn’t indicated the intensity Pete projected. Every ounce of his focus was on her, and she couldn’t look away.

  “Welcome, Jessica. You don’t know how much Chad has looked forward to this day.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be here with him finally.”

  Pete Hodges wasn’t a big man. He was compact and trim, and she knew he was in his late forties. His gray hair was military short, and, like Ed, he was clean-shaven. He didn’t wear camouflage, but his pants and shirt were a dark olive green. A gun belt lay on a filing cabinet behind him.

  Mercy felt naked.

  She had rarely used her agency weapon, but its presence had always been reassuring. Now she was in the middle of hostile territory, and she suspected most of the people were armed.

  As he studied her from head to toe, she shuffled her feet and took a quick look around the room as any nervous person would do. An American flag stood in the corner, a gold eagle at the top of its pole. A map of the local terrain hung on one wood-paneled wall, and impressive nature photos covered another. Purple flowers, towering pines, dusky waterfalls.

  Is he the photographer?

  “Everyone has a thirty-day trial period,” Pete began. “During this time you will be evaluated to see if you’re a good fit for the community we are trying to build.”

  “I could be kicked out?” Mercy blinked several times to appear concerned. “Can Chad go with me if I have to leave?”

  “If he wishes.” Pete’s tone was cautious.

  “I get along with everyone,” Mercy said. “I’m a hard worker.”

  “You have thirty days to show us that.” This time he gave a broad smile, and Mercy was shocked to realize how much she’d wanted his approval—and not buy-my-cover-story approval. Something about him made her want to work for him, stand with him. And she’d met him sixty seconds ago.

  He had an unusual energy that attracted people. An X factor. It was why people had followed him to a remote camp and given up their cell phones.

  “On paper you seemed like a good fit,” Pete continued. “That’s why I said you could come, but I am curious why you’d leave your old life behind.”

  “I didn’t. Chad is here, so my life is here too.”

  Pete sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “We have a philosophy. A way of working together. Everyone has to fulfill their role, or the entire system falls apart. We’re dependent on each other.”

  “I understand. I’ve always been a team player, but what kind of role will I have?”

  Pete studied her for a moment. “I don’t know just yet. We’ll try you out in a few positions. I’ve found that the best role usually exposes itself. You have a medical background, right?”

  “I have an associate’s in nursing.”

  “We need someone to be in charge of health care.”

  “Oh!” Mercy straightened. “I’m not a doctor. You need someone more skilled than me to do that.”

  “We’ll see,” Pete said noncommittally. “What else can you do?”

  “Ummm . . . I was a waitress, but I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Childcare?”

  “I guess.” Does living with a teenager count?

  “Things are run differently here. You won’t have any Ponzi-scheme government retirement to rely on. No FDA telling you what you can’t eat. No fake news stations telling you what to believe.”

  “That’s why Chad and I are here,” Mercy said. “We wanted to start fresh, and I hate that I can’t turn around without tripping over laws and taxes.” She counted on her fingers. “Taxes on cars, taxes on property, laws to regulate absolutely everything.” She met his gaze. “I love my country, but some things are out of hand. My paycheck gets smaller every year, and that missing money goes to rich men who are only trying to get richer.”

  Pete nodded slowly.

  Mercy was confident she’d said the right thing.

  “You’ll have to give up some liberties to live here. To have true unity, we all have to be equal. Your life won’t be the same.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms and giving her a hard stare. “It won’t be easy.” The understanding, friendly commander was gone.

  He’s attempting to trigger my anxiety.

  Mercy recognized the interrogation technique; she’d used it many times. Heightened anxiety could make the subject reveal deceptive behaviors. Rubbing their nose, pulling an ear, twisting hair, stalling between answers.

 
He wanted to see if she was hiding something.

  She held perfectly still and focused on his eyes.

  “I know. But from what Chad has told me, I’ll gain so much more.” She removed her phone from her pocket and balanced it on her palm. “I was told no phones.” Her fingers closed around the phone as she looked at it regretfully. “I don’t need to see what my friends are eating for dinner or what their kids wore to school.” She extended the phone to him.

  He took it while watching her with curious eyes.

  She lifted her chin. “It’ll take a while, but I’ll get used to no phone. It’s more of a habit than anything else.”

  “Did Chad tell you you’ll be bunking with the other women for now?”

  “Yes.”

  She kept her face expressionless as he studied her for a long moment, probably expecting a protest against the sleeping arrangements. She repressed an overwhelming urge to scratch her nose.

  “I’ll get Vera to show you where you’re staying. She is your superior. All the women answer to her, and she answers to me.”

  He turned his back, and her interview was over.

  I think I passed.

  In the room outside Pete’s office Mercy stood motionless, her arms held out from her sides and her eyes focused on the ugly plaid curtains as Vera Warner’s hands explored below her breasts.

  Vera grimaced. “I’m sorry. Everyone gets searched when they first arrive. You never know what people are trying to sneak in.” Vera was alarmingly thin, and her skin was tinged with an odd yellow undertone that made her look sickly. Her dark hair was pulled tight against her head in a ponytail, enhancing her narrow face. Blue veins branched along her temples and the sides of her neck.

  “I get it,” Mercy murmured. At least Vera had told her there wouldn’t be a cavity search. “What do people sneak in besides phones?”

  “Mainly drugs.”

  “Pete runs a tight ship?”

  “The tightest. No drugs of any kind allowed.”

  “What about necessary prescriptions?”

  “Are they truly necessary?” Vera took on a lecturing tone. “People are put on medications to keep the pharmaceutical companies in business. Doctors get kickbacks for every medication they prescribe. The public has been brainwashed to believe they can heal with only the right pill. You’d be surprised what a few weeks of honest physical labor and clean air can do for a person. It’s the cure to many ills.”

  Mercy bit her tongue before she argued that labor was no substitute for insulin or an emergency epinephrine dose for anaphylaxis. Vera finished her pat down. She’d been thorough, even making Mercy remove her boots for a close examination. She gestured for Mercy to grab her bags and led her out of the command center.

  The zipper on Mercy’s duffel was not in the position in which she’d left it.

  Not surprised.

  “How long have you lived here?” Mercy asked as she jogged to catch up with the woman. Vera’s thin legs took incredibly long strides, and her jeans were slightly too short, exposing grimy socks above her hiking boots. The brown canvas coat with a sheep’s-wool collar was several sizes too large and hung loosely on her.

  “I’ve been here nine months.”

  “When did Pete start the camp?”

  “Pete took it over. The man who had started it left after only two months.” She huffed, expressing her scorn for the quitter. “That was about a year ago.”

  “Pete seems to be doing a good job.”

  “He is.” Admiration for Pete rang in Vera’s voice. “This is a secure place, and I feel incredibly safe. No foreigners. These are all good, brave men who just want to live in America’s Preserve as the Constitution said we could.”

  “Ah . . . that’s nice to hear.” I don’t want to hear her definition of foreigner.

  “Children are being raised right. We’ve got a good teacher who doesn’t clutter their brains with useless subjects. They are taught what they need to know.”

  “How many children are here?”

  “Nine—including two toddlers. Sadie teaches them. She used to work in a school.”

  Work in a school did not mean “be a teacher.”

  “I’m glad Pete has made education a priority,” Mercy said. “Setting up a school can be expensive.”

  “Oh, we don’t really need any supplies. Sadie uses the oral tradition—how schooling used to be. Memorization and recitation are their tools. The children’s minds aren’t cluttered with video games and television, so they perform better.”

  Mercy couldn’t speak for a long moment. “Can they read?” Her words sounded strangled.

  Vera frowned, no pause in her rapid gait. “Lotta lies printed out there. Stuff they’re better off not reading. We teach them that a man’s spoken word is his bond.”

  She’d stumbled into the Stone Age.

  “Honor is important.” Mercy couldn’t think of anything else agreeable to say.

  “Absolutely. Lying isn’t tolerated here.” She turned and scrutinized Mercy. “The average person tells seven lies a day. It’s so ingrained in our behavior that we don’t know we’re doing it. White lies, little deceits. Usually they’re not intentional, but I recommend you start paying attention to what you say—you will be challenged if you lie.”

  “Good to know,” Mercy choked out. What are the consequences?

  They reached one of the buildings that hadn’t been renovated. The porch sagged, and dry rot was visible around the doorframe. “Here we go,” Vera stated as she opened the door. “We have a large room at the back with bunks, and then this is the community area in the front. Two bathrooms, but one is out of service at the moment.”

  “How many women?”

  “You’re number eleven.”

  Eleven women; one bathroom.

  The building was silent. Two mismatched couches were pushed against the walls of the room. A few old lamps and some chairs completed the community area. No curtains, no wall art.

  It was dismal.

  “Come this way.” Vera waved for Mercy to follow her down a narrow hall. They passed two closed doors, one with an OUT OF ORDER sign tacked to it. Vera pushed open a third door. “This room is for sleeping only. You’ll have a box to store your clothing that slides under the bed.”

  Mercy counted six sets of bunk beds. Vera pointed at one directly in the center of the room. “The lower is yours.”

  No privacy. All four sides of the bed were open to anyone in the room, and it held a two-inch-thick, heavily stained mattress. Clearly the worst location and probably the oldest mattress in the cabin.

  “You start at the bottom here and work your way up,” Vera said, watching Mercy eye the mattress. “Good work will be rewarded.”

  Pete had said everyone was equal.

  She wondered what his sleeping conditions were like.

  A cough pulled her attention to a bunk in the corner. In the shadows a woman partially sat up, her weight on one arm.

  “Cindy?” Vera snapped. “You didn’t tell me you couldn’t make duty.”

  “I’m on my way. Breakfast didn’t sit well in my stomach, and I had a rough morning.” Cindy sat up all the way and leaned forward, bringing her face into the light. She looked about Mercy’s age, and her hair clumped in long strands, desperately in need of a wash. She awkwardly pushed to her feet, and Mercy caught her breath.

  Cindy was hugely pregnant. Bigger than Rose had been at the end of her pregnancy. Mercy tensed with worry, her mind cluttered with questions. How far away is the hospital? What if the roads are icy? Is there a doctor nearby?

  “You must be Jessica,” Cindy said softly. “You’re a nurse, right? I’m so glad to have some medical help here now.”

  Mercy froze. She knew some medical basics. The ABCs. Airway, Breathing, Circulation. How to stop bleeding, how to splint bones, how to treat infections.

  Not how to handle pregnancy emergencies.

  “Wh-when are you due?” Mercy’s mouth was dry.

  “So
on, I think.”

  “Have you seen an obstetrician?”

  Cindy put a hand on her stomach. A familiar gesture Rose had made a hundred times. “No, but I can feel the baby moving, so everything is okay.” She panted, trying to catch her breath.

  Mercy turned to Vera. “I don’t know anything about pregnancy. She needs to be closer to medical care. What if she goes into labor?”

  “Women have been giving birth since the start of time,” Vera stated seriously. “Doctors cause complications. They only want to give drugs or cut the women open to speed up the birth, and hospitals are full of nasty bacteria.” She nodded at Cindy. “Birth is painful; it’s our legacy of being women. With some fresh air and plenty of clean water, she’ll do just fine.”

  Mercy’s mother was a midwife, and Vera was right about one thing: plenty of labors went fine. The childbirths that weren’t fine were the problem. Her mother knew when a hospital and obstetrician were needed for safety.

  If they called on Mercy when Cindy went into labor, her automatic answer would be, “Ambulance. Now.”

  “You need to go help with lunch,” Vera instructed the pregnant woman. “Get moving now, and I won’t give you a strike.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Cindy dipped her head at Vera. “And welcome to your new home, Jessica.” Cindy walked gingerly as she left the room, and Rose’s complaints of aching feet echoed in Mercy’s memory.

  “It’d be helpful to know when she’s due,” Mercy said tentatively. “A doctor—”

  “Isn’t needed,” finished Vera. “She’s a strong, healthy woman. Now drop your stuff, and I’ll show you the rest of the camp.”

  Mercy set her belongings on the mattress, refusing to look closer at the stains and wondering if other women had given birth at the camp. “Do you have a room with some medical equipment?”

  “Bandages and first aid things are in the supply depot. You just ask for what you need.”