Fearless Dreamer

by Linda Marr

  And again I reminded myself why I was here. I thought of what I heard Jeremiah Bell say on TV. They must be free. Yes, they had to be. I didn’t want to waste any more time.

  I turned to Jax, “So, where is he? Jeremiah Bell?”

  Jax nodded toward a door recessed in a far corner of the room. “The main sanctuary.”

  We walked across the dank stone floor. I was still uneasy, but I’d come this far.

  This door opened to a narrow hallway that somehow felt even more claustrophobic than the dirt tunnel we’d scrambled through to reach this place.

  Finally we came to a door inlaid with a cross in lighter honey colored wood. Jax was silent as he twisted the knob.

  The main sanctuary was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows lined the walls, all deep purples and emerald greens, the images of saints and angels that glowed in the late afternoon. They caught the day’s pale light and transformed it.

  I felt a catch in my throat, and whether it was because my senses were so much more heightened than in my donor life, or because of the sheer magnificence of the stained glass, I knew why Jax stayed silent.

  The door we’d stepped through led us to the altar, overlooking the pews for the congregation. On the wood floor was a thread-bare Persian carpet. I could imagine the path the choir wore in it when they walked to their seats.

  I whispered the words carved over the door, “Whoever believes in Me shall have eternal life.”

  What happened to the lives of those who worshipped here? The church was empty now, those people lost. Now the stained glass saints had no one to watch over but themselves.

  The huge beams crisscrossing the church ceiling soared so high, they reminded me of the frame of a great ark. We were all adrift, I thought, donors and the humans who didn’t know donors existed, alike.

  There was no one here but us. I looked at Jax, but he was staring toward the rear of the cavernous church.

  Just then the doors that led to the center aisle were swinging open.

  He grabbed my arm with surprising ferocity, “Let’s go.” He leapt off the altar, yanking me with him.

  We dropped into a hard pew just as Jeremiah Bell glided into the sanctuary, his electric wheelchair humming, a group of men trailing respectfully behind him.

  I hadn’t thought much recently about my brother’s obsession with the meaning of names. But Jeremiah’s came back to me. “God exalts.” Watching Jeremiah and his followers, it seemed like Troy might be right after all.

  Jeremiah’s entire group moved swiftly, almost as one entity, up a ramp to the altar. He locked his wheelchair in place, and the men crouched down on the floor around him. Rough, people you wouldn’t want to meet late at night in a dark alley. Their voices were low and serious, I couldn’t hear what they were saying but there was something hostile in the way they were talking. These were Jeremiah’s followers? The men who wanted to rescue donors?

  I stayed as still and silent as possible there in the pew. Once in a while I caught a phrase. “…donor center… over five hundred of your kind housed…”

  I twitched with excitement, no matter what these men looked like, this was the reason I came. They must be planning some kind of rescue.

  Until now, the group on stage had taken no notice of us. But my movement attracted attention.

  A dark, swarthy man turned toward us, his face hidden behind thick stubble like a mask. Something to hide behind? But unlike the rest of the men, his beard seemed groomed to look that way. There was something calculating about him that made me dislike him on sight. He lifted his head and called to Jax.

  “Boy. Over here.”

  “That’s Hector…” Jax whispered as he got up, taking his time about it, “…Bell’s right-hand man.”

  Right-hand man or not, I also didn’t like that he called Jax “boy.” And apparently Jax didn’t either. I watched as he strolled to the altar, keeping the guy waiting as long as possible. When he reached Hector, he leaned in, letting the man whisper in his ear. There was something tense and coiled about Hector.

  I watched as Hector pulled a package wrapped in brown paper from his jacket and handed it to Jax. He gave Jax a slight push as if to send him on his way. Jax’ eyes narrowed, he didn’t like it. But I was distracted from my thoughts because just then Jeremiah looked up.

  Until this point he’d been talking softly to the men immediately around him. But now he smiled at Jax, like a benevolent deity. His expression transformed the scene for me.

  “Jax,” he said in a voice that was a softer and smoother version of the one he used on TV. “Before you go, you must introduce me to your friend.”

  At Jeremiah’s words, Jax smiled. That seemed to be Jeremiah’s gift, or one of them. The ability, even with only the slightest bit of attention, to make a person feel like they were important. I could feel it as clearly as Jax did.

  “Mr. Bell,” Jax said, a new respect coming into his voice. “I’d like you to meet Elle …” He gestured towards me as if I were an offering. “She’s a … she’s like you…” Jax faltered as if realizing he might be insulting the great man.

  But Jeremiah gazed at me with such rapt interest that Jax continued on.

  “…I mean that… she’s a donor, too.”

  Jeremiah’s men had paid no attention to what he was saying or me, but now they all turned toward me at once.

  It was hard for me to tell what Jeremiah was thinking. He continued to smile at Jax in an almost fatherly way. There was something so powerful about his gaze I was again bowled over by the sheer force of his attention. And then he turned that charisma on me.

  “Elle,” he said.

  “That’s right,” I said wishing something smart or clever would occur to me, but nothing did. All I could do was sit there, my heart pounding so hard, I felt like it would leap from my chest. Even though I knew it was impossible, I wondered if Jeremiah could hear it, too.

  He turned his wheelchair ever so slightly. “Come here Elle,” Jeremiah said, “let me take a closer look at you.”

  Finally. I took a deep breath. This was the man I had come to meet. This was the man who was going to free the donors. This was the man I intended to follow. No matter what his men looked like. Now I believed.

  I carefully walked up the ramp, a grave procession of one. The others’ eyes were on me, and Jeremiah’s, too. I stopped a few feet from him, close enough to see that surprisingly, he wasn’t as old as I once thought. Despite the flowing silver hair, he was probably only in his 40’s.

  In my donor life, which seemed so long ago, I always hurried Troy away from his raving. “BE WARNED! BE WARNED! The end is coming! The world is dissolving!”

  I wondered if the government had tried to shut him up. I had just felt sorry for him then. And even though I would never admit it, frightened by him. When someone seemed that crazy, you never knew what they were going to do.

  Maybe wake up, I thought dryly, from the real craziness. And once they did, maybe vow to give all those caught in the insanity a chance to do the same. He must’ve been so tormented then. But he was so strong, now. His strength practically radiated.

  Jeremiah’s eyes were startlingly blue; blue like the old donor sky on another perfect cloudless day. Endless. I could see in them all the possibilities, all the power and the passion in this real life, and a touch of pain. In some ways, I could see myself. What I didn’t see was madness. The madness of the donor world was gone.

  “Do I know you, Elle? Have we met before?”

  Jeremiah’s gaze showed no trace of anger, yet still, I was ashamed of how I had treated someone who turned out to be right about everything.

  “Yes,” I said nodding, although not adding where.

  “Well then, Elle…” Jeremiah said in voice so intimate the others around us seemed to fade away, “I need to see you now… do you understand? I need to see who you really are.”

  The church was achingly quiet.

  Instantly, I did understand. One donor to ano
ther. I untucked my tee shirt from my jeans, but somehow I couldn’t lift my shirt. It was as if my hands were frozen. This was ridiculous. I tried again, and still couldn’t raise my shirt. This had to be another one of the effects of that shot. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t say the word donor; I couldn’t show anyone what I was, either. Tears of frustration sprang to my eyes.

  Very slowly, gently, Jeremiah lifted my hand away, and raised the edge of my shirt. The other men’s eyes were glued on us.

  He nodded at me, and said so softly maybe only I could hear “I didn’t get the shot.”

  His fingers skimmed my skin like Braille. When he took his hand away, once again when he spoke it was as if we were the only two people in the church, maybe in the world.

  “I’ve never had a child come to me before… most adults are not strong enough to escape, let alone… a child…”

  I would have liked to point out that I was sixteen, and didn’t feel much like a child anymore. All the same I knew what Jeremiah meant. I was young, but I was more than ready to join Jeremiah and do whatever it took to free the donors. But as I opened my mouth to tell him exactly that, Hector cut me off.

  “I’d like to see the girl’s markings for myself. If you don’t mind, Jeremiah.”

  All around the circle, the others seconded Hector’s demand. Up close I could see I was right about Hector. Out of all the rough men surrounding Jeremiah, he alone had neatly cut hair, a clean, pressed shirt, and that carefully trimmed beard. This man had taken the time to put on a good show. The more I saw of him, the less I liked him. What I really didn’t like was the tone in his voice.

  “To what end, Hector?” Jeremiah asked mildly. “The girl is not a circus exhibit. Don’t you trust that I, of all people, would know the markings of a healed donor?”

  It seemed so strange to me that he could use that word and I could not. And yet Jax said Jeremiah never mentioned it in public.

  “Markings can be surgically replicated,” Hector countered, as intense as ever, “to infiltrate groups like ours. What better spy than a girl who does not need a wheelchair as most adults do making it all so much easier to report back to her handlers.”

  “And should I find such a girl, I would most certainly hand her over to you,” Jeremiah said.

  With that, the others seemed to consider the matter closed. I wondered how soon it would be before this discussion came up again.

  I saw Jax grin at Jeremiah’s words. Hector saw it too. He took a step forward as if to confront Jax, and Jax was ready for him, his face turned to stone.

  But Jeremiah intervened.

  “Safe journey, Jax,” Jeremiah said, “we’ll take good care of your friend.”

  Jax nodded at me, and headed off through the church.

  Before I could feel worried about being left with these men, Jeremiah turned back to me. “Tell me how you got here, Elle.”

  Once again, just hearing his voice calmed me. I described my rescue, and the farmhouse. A look passed between Jeremiah and Hector, clearly they knew the place. I felt protective of those I left behind. I was glad that if they asked me, I couldn’t tell them where it was located. My path to the city was so confusing I wouldn’t be able to find my way back if I tried. Sad but true.

  And when finally he wanted to know why I came, I told Jeremiah the simple truth, “Because I want to join you. I want to free the others – all of them.”

  Jeremiah threw his head back and laughed. Hector remained expressionless.

  Jeremiah patted my shoulder. “Glad to have you then, Elle,” he said.

  Jeremiah turned away and began to talk to his men again about donor centers, and how careful they had to be with their rescue efforts. I stayed where I was next to Jeremiah.

  Hector didn’t protest, but I could tell from the slight frown between his eyes, he wasn’t happy about my presence. The rest of the men just ignored me.

  From where I stood I could see the men were looking at small hand-held digital devices, and on the screens were images of various centers. They were similar to the surveillance monitors at the farmhouse. I was dying to ask where the centers were located in the city, so I could reach my family. But not yet, not until I knew a little more about what was going on. The last thing I wanted to do was make these men dislike me more.

  I was having a hard time following the conversation. Most of it centered on disrupting various government labs and the agencies that supported the donor program.

  But apparently there was a larger plan in the works. This one involved exactly what I’d come for - setting all the donors free. Jeremiah wanted to do it in such a way that they could expose the donor program to the public.

  “As I’ve said so many times, once people see what’s going on it’ll create an uproar the likes of which the government has never experienced any time in history,” Jeremiah leaned forward in his chair, his voice rising to much the same tenor as when the news cameras had shown him rallying large crowds. “Once what our country is doing is exposed, the entire donor system will have to be abandoned. I’ve spent months making myself credible. The press loves me. They won’t be able to keep us quiet.”

  I hoped he was right. There was always the chance that once people knew about it, they might not really care. I saw how people lived here in this city, barely surviving. But if Jeremiah believed he could fix things, then I had to believe too. It wasn’t only his charismatic presence. It was the fact that anything else was too horrible to think about for long. I’d come here for a reason, I couldn’t forget that, I needed to stay strong.

  “Up until now, we’ve stood by the sidelines. The government has been able to cover up what we’ve done, to make up excuses. Our number one priority is setting people free, and making sure the entire country knows exactly what happened,” Jeremiah went on.

  Listening to him, I focused on the idea that my family could and would be free. He just had to be right. There was no other way. I couldn’t wait to hear how he was going to pull this off.

  “We have the city facilities completely under surveillance,” Hector said brusquely.

  “And that includes all the security systems, I take it?”

  Hector nodded. “At least one should be down for maintenance, soon. That’s how we’ll get in.”

  The meeting went on for hours. I should’ve been hungry or tired, but I wasn’t. I was riveted by every word. They’d get into one lab and shut it down. In the chaos that ensued, they’d break in to all the other donor centers.

  I could see it happening. I was more and more excited.

  At last all the light had faded from behind the stained glass windows, and the church was almost fully dark. It was only then that Jeremiah ended the meeting.

  He and Hector moved toward the sacristy behind the altar. “I stay in the pastor’s offices,” Jeremiah said, looking back at me. “Ask for me if you need anything.”

  “All right,” I said. I was still in awe of him. If I wasn’t, then maybe I would have asked more about his plans. Ask him what I could do to help. For the moment, it was enough just to be here. To trust he knew what to do and that it would all work out.

  “I’ll see you at dinner, Elle,” Jeremiah said, and once again the sound of his voice made me feel as though I was the only person on earth, “You’ll eat with me. For now, go with the others.”

  The men weren’t waiting for me, so I hurried after them. I wondered when Jax would get back.

  I followed the men as they wound their way out of the main church, and through the cluttered sleeping area. They ignored me completely. I knew any role I might play in the rescue plans had to come from Jeremiah. These men would never include me. I tried not to let that bother me.

  We went down a flight of stairs into an institutional-looking dining hall. Long tables, like the kind that filled high school cafeterias were set up on top of grey tile in a windowless room.

  People were lined up waiting for a bowl of an unappealing brownish stew. I joined the line of men. I realized I did
n’t see any other women here. And still no one said a word to me. It was like I wasn’t even there.

  Once again, how I missed everyone at the farmhouse, most of all Kavan, his lame jokes, his hand on my shoulder. The date we’d never had. The feelings that were just starting up between us. I’d lost all that. I hoped not forever.

  I didn’t feel comfortable breaking the silence here in this dismal room. Instead I studied the men. Many of them were wearing holsters and guns beneath their jackets. That didn’t make me feel any better.

  Everyone was so quiet. There was no laughing, talking, jostling like at the farmhouse. I took my food and grabbed a seat in a corner of the room. There was no sign of Jax or Jeremiah. Jeremiah must have forgotten me.

  The stew was terrible, salty and sticky. I was almost sorry that now I could taste everything so intensely.

  I was half way through my meal such as it was, when Hector strode into the cafeteria. He took two plates from the serving line, and stalked over to me.

  I looked up in surprise. Was he going to sit with me? No, that was wrong; he just shoved one of the plates at me. “Here girl, take this up to Jeremiah.”

  I couldn’t tell what he was thinking; his eyes were so dark they were almost black.

  “It’s Elle,” I said, pulling the full plate closer.

  “He’s expecting you,” Hector turned his back, “before it gets cold.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I walked out of the silent cafeteria and into the quiet church again. It was a different kind of quiet. The dining room was oppressive, unnerving. This kind of quiet was a relief.

  I knocked on the door to the pastor’s office.

  “Come in, Elle.”

  And so I did.

  The tiny room was warm. There was a small potbellied stove in the corner. Jeremiah was resting on a faded beige sofa. He eyed the plate in my hand.

  “Another glorious meal, I see.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or sarcastic.