The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2)

by Patricia Bell

  “Oh Rachel, no, of course not. God does not want you to suffer any more than necessary. This is just something some people go through. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “Not my people. It has never―” A thought occurred to her. There had been women who’d lost their babies. Even women who’d lost their own lives. It was rare, but it happened.

  “Your people do not see doctors. You probably would not know if a person was suffering from that or any other condition.”

  She nodded. “You are right.”

  “There are many factors that can contribute to pregnancy issues. Your age can certainly be one of them.”

  Still, she wasn’t so sure.

  “Rachel.” The woman put her hand on her arm. “I don’t want to say anything bad about your people. It is very commendable to set yourself apart from the world as they have. To live a simple life among fellow believers. Sometimes, with the hustle and bustle of life, I might enjoy the quiet time with God myself, but when the leaders keep away the most important of truths from their people, it is no longer praiseworthy.”

  “But why do they do so? What can they gain through deception and control? It is the very reason we live as we do. To be set apart from such things.”

  “I don’t know for sure with your situation, but I can tell you from history that many of these types of groups start out with good intentions.”

  “There are others?”

  Dr. Paine smiled. “Not who call themselves specifically The Chosen, but yes, history is riddled with isolated communities that professed to be followers of God. Many of them still exist today and some are indeed devout followers.”

  She had never in her life heard of such a thing. How was that possible? They were the only chosen. “Where are they? Are they like us – them?”

  “The point I am trying to make is that when the leaders of a community deprive their people from basic truths, they are abusing their powers. There is nothing wrong with being separate from the world. That in and of itself is fine, but when you pervert the word of God, it is no longer healthy.” She hesitated. “And by what I have seen and heard, that is what has happened.”

  She was right. The elders had made the people so afraid that they were terrified of the outside world. They had demonized anyone who was not one of their own. They had frightened them to the point that they were so afraid to step out of line or else they would be severely punished. Or fleshed-out.

  “They lied to us.” A tear dropped down her cheek.

  “I am so sorry. I wish I could instantly take away your pain. I know it must be hard. But I promise you it will get better . . . with time.”

  Rachel nodded. “I am afraid.” Her voice wavered. “For my sister.”

  Chapter 20 ― Malachi

  With the stack of money burning in his front pocket, Malachi headed toward the storage building. Would someone notice the bulge and ask him what it was? What would he tell them? He’d tried to split it up into two of his pockets, but that only looked more obvious, and he’d settled on the one. It wasn’t nearly as noticeable as he worried, but still, his insides felt as if he were about to explode with anxiety.

  The Chosen did not carry money. They did not own money. They worked hard, and God provided all their needs. That was what he’d been taught all his life. And now he was relying on money to get what he wanted. Ironic.

  “Ready to go?” Elder Joseph slapped him on the back as he strolled up to the vehicle.

  “Yes, Elder. I am ready.”

  “You may drive.” The elder tossed him the set of keys.

  “Really?” Malachi asked. “I do not have my license yet.”

  “You’ll need some practice before you take your test, is that not true?”

  “Yes, Elder. Thank you.” Malachi grinned and headed to the driver’s seat of the truck he’d loaded the night before.

  He had never been behind the wheel, but he’d paid close attention to the driver each time they went to market. He knew one day he would get his chance to drive. That day had finally come.

  Malachi got in as Elder Joseph and Brother Jonah climbed in with him.

  “Shall we pray?” Jonah asked with a chuckle.

  “Very funny,” Malachi said as he slid the key into the ignition and turned. The truck started easily, and Malachi placed it in reverse. Since the get-away that took his brother’s life several months back, all the vehicles had been enclosed within a block wall that was gated and heavily guarded.

  “Not bad for your first time,” Elder Joseph said as Malachi maneuvered the truck around, placed it in drive, and headed for the gate.

  “You have not hit a thing yet.” Jonah agreed. “Impressive.”

  Malachi, too nervous about the task at hand, smiled as a drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Clearing his dry throat, he said, “Thank you.”

  As he headed toward town, his mind reeled. The stack of money in his front pocket reminded him of what he needed to do. He knew the what, but not the how. How would he find someone to help him? He couldn’t just walk up to a complete stranger and ask them for assistance in finding his friends, could he? And even if he could, The Chosen were not allowed to interact with the English. If he were caught speaking to someone outside of answering sales questions, it would not be good. What they would do, he did not know. No one had ever spoken to the English apart from the selling of their wares.

  “Are you ready to be married to Abigail?” Jonah leaned around Elder Joseph to look at him.

  He was not ready. It sickened him to even think about marrying such a young girl. But still, he could not let it show. “I am ready.” His voice came out stilted.

  Jonah chuckled.

  AS THEY UNLOADED THE goods into the stall at the Phoenix Swap Park, Malachi scanned the area. It was still early, and few people were around. In a couple of hours, the place would be full of shoppers.

  Keep calm.

  He continued to unload blankets and place them neatly on the long table that spread out in front of their stall. They would bring in a good amount of sales being that it was the weekend. Saturdays, although a sacred day of rest for The Chosen, was their biggest selling day, and therefore they were the only ones allowed to work. That had been one of the things that had started him in his mindset. Made him wonder about God and His rules. Made him doubt.

  Several hours into the morning, a man walked by who looked familiar to him. He was not Chosen, and Malachi had no idea where he’d seen him before, but he had. That dark, disheveled hair, probing brown eyes, and the stubble that held bits of gray in it he’d seen somewhere before. His button-down shirt was pressed and neatly tucked into his jeans. And he had a clean musky smell about him.

  “Blessed day, Marcus.” Elder Joseph called out as the man headed their way.

  “How are you, Joseph?” the man said as he came closer.

  “I am well. I have not seen you around lately.” Elder Joseph answered.

  “I have been let go.” The man’s face grew stern. “I was hoping you would give this to Daniel for me.” He pulled an envelope out of his top pocket and handed it to Elder Joseph.

  “I will see that he gets it.” Elder Joseph answered.

  The man nodded and walked away.

  Malachi followed the man with his eyes. “Who is he?”

  “Does some work for High Prophet,” Elder Joseph said, placing a stack of rugs onto the ground below. “Well, at least he did.”

  “Elder,” Malachi spoke with almost a tremble. Marcus was the one. He needed to speak to him before he got too far away. “May I run to the outhouse. I think I have drank far too much water.”

  “Make it quick, Malachi. We have much work to do.”

  “I will, thank you, Elder.” Malachi rushed off after the man.

  He didn’t dare look back for fear his anxiety would show.

  Up ahead, Marcus was coming up on the bathrooms, heading toward the front gate. Malachi picked up his pace. It would not be a good idea for Malach
i to pass up the bathrooms himself. He dared a glance back. The booth was out of sight. Good. He would not be watched.

  When he faced forward once again, the man had vanished. Malachi scanned the area. Where did he go? An ache settled in his stomach. Could he dare pass up the bathrooms to find the man?

  He could not chance it. He’d just have to hide the money somewhere and try again another time.

  He glanced back one last time as he entered the bathroom and smacked right into something solid. His hat fell to the ground as he stared face to face with the man he’d been looking for.

  “Sorry about that.” Marcus reached down to pick up Malachi’s hat. “I think you dropped this.”

  Malachi ran a hand through his short damp hair as he took his hat. The bravery he’d had all morning dissolved into a puddle of fear. “Thank you.” He took his hat from the man.

  The man nodded and took a step forward but Malachi was blocking his way. This was his chance. He couldn't let the man get away. The man turned back. “Hey, aren’t you one of them?” He nodded to Malachi. “You know, The Chosen?”

  “Yes, sir. I am. How do you know us?” Elder Joseph had said he’d worked for the High Prophet, but Malachi wanted to keep the conversation going until he got up the nerve to say what was on his mind.

  “I have had some dealings with your leader, Daniel.”

  Could he trust the man? What if he told the High Prophet? All his bravery flew out of him like an untied balloon.

  “Nice to meet you, sir. Have a nice day,” Malachi said but continued to block the man’s way.

  “Is there something you wanted?” The man raised an eyebrow at Malachi when he still did not move.

  “I . . . well.” The money in his pocket burned. “I . . . sir, do you still work for . . . uh, Daniel?”

  It was a sin to call the High Prophet by his given name, but Malachi felt strange calling him by that title in front of this man. As it was, Malachi had come to doubt the man was truly a prophet.

  “I did some work for him, but I found his values to be, uh, well, let’s just say, less than moral.”

  “So, you work for him no longer?”

  “Is there something you need from me?” The man glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment to make.”

  Sweat dripped from Malachi’s pores. It was now or never. “Yes, I . . .” Malachi swiped at his brow. “I want to hire you.” He pulled out the sweaty wad of bills from his pocket.

  “Woah, man.” Marcus threw his hands in the air. “Put that stuff away.”

  Embarrassed, Malachi pushed the money back into his pocket. He was no good at this.

  Marcus pulled him all the way into the bathroom. “Look, man. I already told your psychopathic dictator that I would not harm those kids. If he has sent you to do his bidding—”

  “What?” Sweat dripped into Malachi’s eyes. “No, I want you to save them.”

  Marcus motioned for Malachi to continue. “I’m listening.”

  A toilet flushed in one of the stalls, and a door opened. An oversized man exited. “Excuse me.” He eyed them for a second, then proceeded to the sink to wash his hands.

  How much had he overheard? Would he go tell — that was ridiculous. He didn’t know them. They stayed silent while the man dried his hands, gave them one more glance, and then walked out of the bathroom.

  Malachi’s resolve was weakening quickly. Were there more people listening? Marcus continued to stare at him, unaffected by the unwanted intruder.

  He repeated, “I’m listening.”

  “I want to get word to them that their lives are in danger.” He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “All you have to do is deliver this to them.”

  Marcus took the damp paper and opened it. He read aloud. “5-15. PSP.” He looked back up at Malachi. “What does this mean?”

  “May fifteenth. I want them to meet me here on that day.”

  “And you think they will understand this cryptic message?”

  Malachi nodded. He hoped they would. He couldn’t risk saying more. “Jonathan Young and Rachel Pence. The other, she is not Chosen, but she is in danger as well. Her name is Reb – uh Luna. I do not know her last name.”

  “And you have no idea where they are?”

  Malachi dropped his head. “No, sir. I just know that they are alive and in danger.”

  “And you want me to find them, and give them this note? That’s it?”

  “And I will pay you one thousand dollars.” He started to pull the money out again.

  Marcus put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Save your money. I’ve been looking for a reason to get back at that cowardly, no good . . .” he paused and grinned. “Let’s just say, I will enjoy doing this for you.”

  Malachi swiped at his brow again. “Sir, I beg you to take the money. I cannot . . . I will be . . . it is not safe for me to keep it.”

  The man stared at him for a moment. If he thought Malachi had gotten the money erroneously, he didn’t say.

  He waved his hand at Malachi’s pocket. “Okay. Give it to me. I will give it to your friends when I find them.”

  Relieved, Malachi reached back into his pocket and pulled out the currency that had given him anxiety since the moment Daniel had handed it to him. The love of money was the root of all evil, and he felt evil just holding the stuff. He handed it to Marcus. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  Marcus shoved the moist currency into his own pocket. “Anything else?”

  “How will I know if you have found them?”

  Marcus slipped his phone out of his pocket. Typed in some numbers and clicked on his calendar. “There are two more weeks before the fifteenth.” He looked up. “Are you here every day?”

  “Yes, sir. Until I am . . .” Married. He couldn’t think about that now. “Yes, sir. I will be here.”

  “Okay. When I have found them and given them your message, I will walk past your stand. It will be too obvious if I stop, so pay close attention.”

  Malachi nodded. “Yes, sir. I will.”

  The man nodded and turned to walk out of the bathroom but collided with another member of The Chosen.

  “Malachi! Come with me!”

  Chapter 21 ― Abigail

  “Abigail!” The inevitable boom of her father’s voice made Abigail’s heart shudder.

  “Yes, Father.” Abigail hurried down the stairs.

  She stood and stared at the three elders who stood before her. Flashbacks of her sister, Rachel, kicking and screaming as they ripped her away from her home and took her out to die, tormented her being. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. Tremors plagued her body.

  “Abigail Pence,” Elder Aaron said. “You are being charged with the crime of arson. How do you plead?”

  Confused, Abigail stared around the room. The words were foreign to her. She looked at her father. “How do I plead?”

  “Are you guilty of setting the Smithfield barn on fire or not?”

  Abigail nodded. There was no use denying it. She was guilty, and God was punishing her for her acts against her community.

  “Come with me.” Elder Aaron yanked her arm, almost releasing it from her socket.

  “Father?” It was no use. His words came flooding back to her. If you are found out, there will be nothing I can do for you. She was on her own.

  “Where are you taking her?” Her father spoke up, surprising them all.

  “Are you questioning the actions of the elders?” Elder Aaron asked. “Of the High Prophet?”

  “Of God, Himself?” Elder James threw in.

  “N-No. I just want to know. Is it not my right to know?” Anger flashed and then he turned away. “You have already taken . . .” Relenting, her father bowed his head. “God knows best.”

  Abigail stared at her father. “Father?” she begged, but she’d known better. He’d already sent one daughter out to die, he would send her too.

  Elder James grabbed her other arm, and they dragged
her out of her home, just as they did to her sister, kicking and screaming.

  As she pulled away from Elder Aaron’s grasp, his hand made a swift movement and as it connected with her face. “You will not disrespect the elders!” he barked in her face, spittle showering her.

  Abigail dropped to the ground in the most excruciating pain she had ever felt. A warm fluid dripped down her face. She brought her hand up to wipe it away, and it came back with blood. Thick, red blood. She stared up at him in defiance.

  “Get up!” Elder Aaron barked. “You will walk to the truck with self-control, or you will be struck again. I will not allow another Pence harlot to . . .”

  “That is enough!” her father boomed as he ran out of the house. “My daughter is not a harlot.”

  “Maybe not this one,” Elder Aaron agreed. “But she has taken up for the other one, and that makes her guilty just the same.”

  “I am sorry, Abigail.” Her father spoke in a whisper and turned to leave.

  “You will allow them to harm me, Father?” she screamed as he walked away. “Have you no care for your children? They have killed one daughter already.”

  With that, he turned. Abigail and her father stood facing each other, Abigail held in the strong grips of the elders, and her father held only by his own cowardice.

  For a split second, Abigail thought she saw a determination in his eyes. But it was fleeting. “I am sorry, daughter.” He turned and walked away.

  Abigail’s heart broke. She’d known he would not stand up for her. He didn’t for Rachel and he wouldn’t for her. But somewhere deep in the depths of her soul, she’d hoped that he would.

  Pulling her arms away from the elder’s grip, she nearly spat the words, “I can walk on my own.”

  She marched to the truck, climbed into the bed, and threw herself down. The elders jumped into the front, and the truck zipped away.

  As the scorching wind attacked her bloody face, she cried. She would never survive out in the desert alone. She would surely die.

  But as she stared out at the community, the only life she’d ever known, the vehicle did not head for the main gate. Instead, it turned to the back, around the mountain, and to the most interesting looking home. She knew where she was. Everyone knew the High Prophet lived back here, but she’d never been past the mountain that shrouded his home. She had imagined in her mind what it might look like but as she stared at it, it was nothing like she’d thought.