Malachi drank it down quickly. “Thank you, Mother Anna.” It was curiously quiet in the house for being almost dinner time. “Where are the younglings?”
“They are taking quiet time in their rooms,” Mother Anna said. “There was a quarrel, so we had a great solution. None of them will come out until they have resolved their differences.”
“I think they fell asleep.” Mother Ruth giggled.
“I must get to the storage and help Jonah. He will be waiting for me,” Malachi said impatiently and walked back out the door. As he exited the porch, the loaves of bread called to him. He grabbed one up and rushed off.
As he walked, he replayed the words the woman had spoken. A chamber? Abigail hadn’t been fleshed-out? A rush of urgency flowed through him. He needed to find her before the High Prophet . . . He didn’t want to imagine what the man would do. He was capable of anything.
As Malachi rushed to the storage building, Jonah leaned against the outside of the building and waited for him. Malachi jogged up to him. There was no time to waste.
“I need you to cover for me.” Malachi was out of breath.
“Cover for you? For what reason?”
“I must find Abigail.” He hadn’t intended on telling Jonah the truth, but he hadn’t had the chance to think of a good enough lie either.
“What do you mean? She has been fleshed-out, no? Micah saw the elders take her away in the truck.”
“She has not . . . they took her . . . I don’t have time to explain, but I think I know where she is. I must go and see. I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Fine then, go. But if anyone comes and asks about you, I am not covering for you.”
“Tell them I never showed. I will take the blame.” He felt bad asking Jonah to lie for him, but Abigail’s life mattered. If it didn’t matter to anyone else, it did to him.
Jonah nodded. “Go quickly.”
Malachi turned and ran toward the back of the community to where he’d been taken once before, the home of the High Prophet. It was a good distance away, and the hot evening sun beat down on his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. The loaf of bread he’d stuffed in the front was sure to be soggy.
He slowed to a jog as his mind wandered. What was he doing? He was acting just like Jacob. Allowing his emotions to guide him. The mere fact that he cared about Abigail bothered him more than anything else. Malachi was not one to feel much emotion. He’d been the tough one all his life. The feeling he had now was new to him. Caring was a sign of weakness. Jacob was proof. His inability to control his emotions had gotten him killed. There was one that Malachi had cared about, but he would never allow himself to disclose those feelings to anyone. Marriage was not for them to choose.
But his feelings for Abigail were different. She was so young and helpless. He only wanted to protect her.
Malachi stopped and stared at the waning sun as it shed colors of red and orange into the evening sky. His resolve was fading, just like the sun. What could he do for her anyway?
Up ahead, the High Prophet’s huge house came into view. Electric white lights illuminated the immediate area to the front door. It was now or never. He had to make a choice. But as he contemplated his situation, a loud buzzing sound made him jump. He turned to see a long door lift from the bottom up as the inside came into view. Malachi searched for a place to hide. A large gray box stood just a bit away from the electric fence. He ran to it and hid behind.
A car backed out from the big door. The windows were darkened, but there was no question who it was. The High Prophet.
The car pulled onto the dirt road and rolled back behind the house. Where was it going? The gate was the other direction.
Malachi followed slowly, making sure to be careful not to be seen. Up ahead, the dirt road led to a gate at the back of the fence. He had no idea there was a back entrance to the community. Probably no one knew.
He watched the car drive off and then sat down next to the back of the house. Would he even be able to find her? Maybe he should just go back home. But first, he would rest for a moment. He sighed and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
Chapter 26 ― Abigail
Abigail sat slumped in the corner of the dark room, scared and hungry. Her face throbbed from where the High Prophet had struck her, and her ankle was now chained to a pole in the center of the room.
Filled with fear, she called out to God. Please, God, I don’t want to die. Please help me.
Immediately a bright light glowed throughout the room. She shut her eyes to ward off the sting. A warmth comforted her.
“Do not fear, Abigail Pence. I am a messenger from God.”
Abigail opened her eyes. The light was so bright that she could only see an outline of a person. “Help me,” she whispered.
“Be patient. God has plans for you.”
“I do not want to die.”
“You will not die. Soon you and your sister will be reunited.”
“She is alive?” She’d been told that but until she saw her, she refused to truly believe it.
“She lives.”
As quickly as it was there, it was gone. The room darkened, and Abigail was alone once again. She was seeing things. Hallucinating. She’d heard of it before. Being out in the desert, others of her people suffered from strange occurrences when they did not intake enough water. Especially during the cotton season. They were always being warned to drink lots of water. A rustling sound startled her. Groggily, she sat up and looked around.
Could it be the boy had come back? She didn’t think so. He’d been caught by his father. She’d heard the commotion from on the other side of the door as the High Prophet had dragged him away. Most likely he’d been severely punished. He would not be back for her.
Another sound. The shuffling of feet?
“Hello?” she whispered. “Is someone out there?”
More rustling.
Abigail stood and put her head closer to the vent, her only contact with the outside world. “Hello?”
A face sprung out at her from the other side, and she stepped back, throwing her hand to her chest.
“Malachi? Is that you?”
“It is I. Are you well?”
“I have been sentenced to die. Do you think I am well?”
“Sorry. Are you hungry? I brought you some bread.”
Abigail’s mouth watered. “Yes, please.”
Malachi pulled out the loaf of bread from inside his shirt. He ripped off a small piece and pushed it through the dirty slats in the vent. “Sorry. I don’t have anything to clean it with.” The bread fell to the ground.
Abigail stared at it. She didn’t want to eat the soiled bread, but she would if she had to.
“Wait.” Malachi unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off the t-shirt from underneath. His hard muscles bulged as he cleaned the slats of the vent with his shirt.
“Here.” He broke off another piece and slipped it through the slat.
Abigail took the bread. Only a little dirty, she placed it in her mouth. Saliva instantly grew as her stomach reacted with the news that it would soon have sustenance.
Malachi fed her through the slats of the vent until the loaf was half gone.
“Did you bring any water?” She hated to ask, but she was horribly thirsty, and the bread wasn’t helping.
“I did not. I am sorry.” He gave her a sad smile. “Wait. I will be right back.”
“Don’t leave me.” Abigail had never been so scared and alone in her entire life. It was the worst feeling she’d ever felt. And her face, where the High Prophet had hit her, hurt to even chew the bread.
“I will be right back. I saw a spigot on the side of the house.”
“A what?”
“They have them at the market. When you turn the handle, water is released.”
Abigail was doubtful. She’d never heard of such a thing. “But what about the High Prophet? What if he comes back?”
“I saw him leave in his car. I
will know when he returns. We will hear him before we see him.”
“Okay, go quickly.”
Abigail sat down on the ground. Even without an education, she knew that Malachi was doing nothing but prolonging her life for a little while longer. He couldn’t get her out of there, so what did it matter? It would just take longer for her to . . .
“I am back. I have water.” Malachi held up a bucket. Water slopped out of it and onto the vent. “Only I have no idea how to get it to you.” He frowned.
Although she understood her predicament, just the thought of water made her thirstier than ever. “Pour it through.”
Malachi shrugged, lifted the bucket, and poured it through the vent. Abigail opened her mouth and let the water pour into it. She gulped wildly to get as much as she could. Much of it went by the wayside or splashed onto her face, but even that felt good on her bruised and battered face. When it was depleted, Malachi set the bucket down and sat next to the grate. Water soaked the dirt beneath her, but she didn’t care.
He peeled off pieces of bread and passed it to her through the grate. “Save some for later. I don’t know how often I can come out here.”
Abigail nodded. “I’m scared,” she whispered through tears.
“I know. me too. But I am going to get you out of here.”
“How? The door is locked, and there is no way I can fit through this small hole.”
“I will figure something out. I promise.”
“The Chosen do not make promises, Malachi.” It was biblical, the elders spoke of it often. Let your yea be yea, and your nay be nay.
“I no longer consider myself Chosen. If this is how God treats His so-called Chosen, I want no part of it.”
As her hallucination came back to her, she felt foolish. Still, she told him about the Angel that visited her. “He said Rachel is alive. And that God will be with me. I know it was just a dream, but it was so real. Do you think it meant something?” The High Prophet got instructions from God in visions all the time. And what about Joseph from the Old Testament? Hadn’t God given him the message to give to Pharaoh?”
“I don’t know Abigail. I hope so.”
The hum of a vehicle sounded in the distance. “I must go now. I will come back when I can.” Malachi got up to leave.
“Malachi?” she called out.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You are to be my wife. Are you not?” He gave her a goofy grin through the vent. It warmed her heart to hear him speak with a gentleness in his voice.
“I am.”
“I will return. Do not go anywhere.” He winked at her.
Even with her current predicament, Abigail felt a lightness swell inside of her. God had sent His messenger to her. She refused to believe otherwise. How could it be a coincidence that the messenger told her she would live when she felt she would die at any moment, and then not seconds later, Malachi arrived with food and water?
Abigail moved to the corner and sat. The room was completely empty except for the pole and the chain that was wrapped around her ankle. Where would she hide her bread? As she stared down at her feet, an idea came to her. Her dress. So thankful, Mamma Sarah had to hem the hand-me-down that had been much too long for her she reached down to the hem. With her finger, she snapped open a stitch and shoved the bread through the hole.
Footsteps sounded in the distance. Abigail laid down in the fetal position and feigned sleep.
Chapter 27 ― Luna
As Luna sat at the table, eating an apple, she couldn’t think about anything but the vague warning Naaman had tried to give them. Right before he went flipping over that vehicle and crashing to his death.
The two of you are in grave
Danger. He had meant to say danger. That was the only word that fit.
As soon as Jonathan arrived, they were going to look at a car in Mesa. She’d found it on Craigslist for a good price. They couldn’t keep using her mother’s car, and the money was given to them, so they would use that combined with Jonathan’s first check to purchase the vehicle. Besides, if they were going to go see Malachi on the fifteenth, she didn’t want her mother’s car involved. She had no idea where they would find him, what they would do, or if he could shed light on the grave danger they were in.
The nightmares were still coming. Abigail stuck in a dark, damp, dungeon. One pole in the center of the room and a shackle that was clamped to her right leg. She was dirty, and her face swollen and bruised. She was dying. The dreams were so strong and so real that she just couldn’t believe they were anything but a warning.
As the garage door opened, Luna slipped on her shoes. She waited at the table while Jonathan and her mother made it through the door leading from the garage to the house.
Her mother came in and sat down. Jonathan sat down next to her.
“I want to talk to you.” Her mother looked serious.
What now?
“Jonathan says you are spending that money. Do you think that is a good idea?”
Luna gave Jonathan a sideways look, and he held up his hands. “How was I supposed to know you didn’t want her to know?”
“Yes,” her mother said. “How was he supposed to know? I thought we agreed to set the money aside for a bit.”
“Who agreed to that?” Luna looked at Jonathan.
He shrugged.
“Well, I thought you were going to hold on to it. At least until you came back from your trip to Phoenix. You know, the one I forbade you to go on.”
“And how do you expect us to get to the place you forbade us to go without a car? Shall I steal yours?”
“Fine, Luna. But I don’t think this is a good idea. You have no clue where that money came from.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think God can give a person dreams? Like a sign or something?”
Her mother thought for a moment before answering. “It’s Biblical. Mostly Old Testament, but it’s possible. God can do anything. Why? Are you having dreams about Naaman again?”
“No. It’s Abigail. The girl who was left behind. She’s locked in this small, dark room.” Luna continued to tell her mother about it.
“You think this dream is from God?”
“It’s not just once. I have had it several times.” She remembered the conversation she’d had with her father. “I even told Blake about it.”
“Is this why you are so set on meeting that boy?”
Luna nodded.
Her mother sighed and got up. “I want you to know that I am not happy about this. The money, the strangers, girls locked in dark rooms. I don’t know what you have got yourself into, but it’s scaring me.”
“I know, Mom. We’ll be careful. I promise.”
As her mother walked away, she looked at Jonathan. “Come on. Let’s go take a look at that car.”
AS LUNA DROVE HER MOTHER’S car, Jonathan followed behind her in their new vehicle. They had played Rock Paper Scissors to decide who would get to drive it home. That was, after she taught him how to play. Obviously, he’d won.
On the I60 somewhere between Mesa and Canyon Rock she looked back and Jonathan was no longer behind her. She signaled and moved over into the slow lane.
The car behind her, a dark sedan, did the same. The goosebumps on her arms warned her that something was not right about the situation. She sped up and moved back into the second lane. The dark sedan, staying in the slow lane, picked up his speed to match hers. Soon they were neck and neck only she couldn’t see through the dark tinted windows. Not until the window rolled down. The man gave her a weighty stare and then sped off.
What is going on?
She looked back in the mirror, and Jonathan was coming up behind her.
Naaman’s words came back to her. You are in grave –
Shaking, she pulled off at the next exit. Jonathan followed. She pulled into a fast-food parking lot and parked. By the time she got out, Jonathan was parked next to her.
> “What was that all about?” Jonathan asked.
“I don’t know.” Her body was still shaking.
“That car nearly ran me off the road. He was playing some kind of game with me.” He came around the car. “When I sped up, he did. When I slowed down, he did too. Finally, he took off, and then I saw him go after you. I thought he was going to crash into you.”
“Me too.” But what did he want? “And then he just took off.”
“Creepy.” Jonathan held her. “You are shaking. Are you okay?”
No, not really. “I guess.”
“Come on. We are almost home. We will take the back streets.”
Luna nodded and got back in her mother’s car.
Chapter 28 ― Daniel
As Daniel sat in his room and stared at his face in the mirror, he cringed. He looked like the Frankenstein monster in that old black and white movie he’d watched late at night when he was eight. The movie had given him nightmares for an entire week. He’d never told his parents because he’d have been in trouble.
Just the memory of the cook stitching his skin together with ordinary thread gave him the chills. Each pull tugged at his skin as pain shot down his face and to his neck. She’d only finished when he was about to pass out.
But as time went on, anger had stirred in Daniel like no other. Defiance tugged at the pit of his stomach. His father had told him to never go back down there. To forget the place ever existed. To let that girl, Abigail, die because God said she deserved it. The only problem was, the High Prophet thought he was God. He’d referred to himself that way several times in conversation with Daniel.
Daniel stomped out of his room and headed to the hallway where he’d found the secret door. He leaned on the wall in the place he had so many times before, but the door did not open. He leaned again. Nothing. He looked around and ran his hand along the wall, but he could not make the door open.
His father must have done something to disable the door. Daniel huffed and walked toward his father’s office. He would have to do his spying the old-fashioned way. He snuck up quietly and peeked through the crack in the door. The man he’d seen before was sitting with his father. His left leg propped up on his right and leaning back.
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