The Virtue of Sin

by Shannon Schuren

53

  CALEB

  We stare at the skeleton. Though it’s obviously been picked by scavengers, the rotting pants and shirt hold the bones in the loose form of a man.

  “Fu-u-u-ck,” Aaron says, drawing out the word as he crouches beside them. He tugs at a piece of the fabric with a finger and thumb, and it crumbles. “Do you know who this is?” he asks, looking up at me.

  “Of course not. Why would I?” But my outrage is hollow. The clothes, or what’s left of them, clearly resemble the simple, handmade garments we’re both wearing. There’s also a chain coiled around one of the bones. With a cross. Just like the Elders wear.

  “Azariah,” he says softly, cradling the crucifix in his hand. “It has to be.”

  I want to deny it, but I can’t. Most of us had always assumed he wouldn’t survive Outside. “He must have tried to escape through the tunnels,” I say. “And gotten stuck somehow.”

  The look Aaron gives me is familiar. It’s the same expression Father wears, right before he calls me an idiot. “Why would he try to escape through the tunnels?” he asks. “Why not just walk out the front gate?” He brushes his hands against his pant leg.

  “Maybe the guards wouldn’t let him leave?”

  “There were no guards back then. Not until after he and Naomi left.” Aaron stands and turns around, studying the ceiling. “No,” he says, “Daniel put him here.”

  “How do you know—”

  “Just like he put us down here. Think about it. Is he up there, right now, telling everybody how he put us in the pit to drown? And threw in a bunch of poisonous snakes for good measure? Or is he explaining to your neighbors that he caught us red-handed, trying to leave? And that we’ve been thrown out?”

  I look from the bones to Aaron and back again. “You’re saying that Daniel . . . killed . . . Azariah? For committing adultery?” Sweat breaks out on my forehead, even though the cave is freezing.

  “I’m saying he killed him. I don’t know why. But we need to get the hell out of here, before we’re next.” He grabs me by the collar and pulls me toward the other tunnel. “Come on.”

  “Shouldn’t we do something . . .” I wave at Azariah’s remains. “We can’t just leave him here.”

  “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  He’s right. If we stay here, we’ll end up like him. I turn away from the bones to follow Aaron, but I take with me the knowledge of what Daniel will do when cornered. If Aaron’s right, Miriam could be in danger, too. But I don’t want Aaron to be right.

  We take the tunnel, sloshing against the flow of the water for what feels like hours, until we finally come to the end. It’s partially blocked by a pile of rocks, but Aaron doesn’t even hesitate before he scales them. I’m bigger, but there’s just enough room to wiggle my way out through the opening behind him.

  The rain has stopped, and the bright moonlight after the darkness of the cave fries my eyeballs. I fall to my knees in the sand, hacking phlegm and bile onto the ground. Dizzy and weakened, I sag onto the boulder behind me as Aaron rolls onto his back.

  “Shit,” Aaron says, finally raising his head to look at the familiar surroundings, the Chapel in front of us and the Council House looming over our shoulders. “I guess we don’t need to worry about how to get back in.” Then he drags himself to his feet.

  I pull myself up, using the rocks that form the base of the ridge beneath the Farmhouse. “Has this tunnel always been here? How could we not know?”

  Aaron kicks at some of the stones. “My guess is the opening used to be covered—by sand and these rocks—and the rain washed it away. Whoever hid it did a damn good job. I’d heard there was another way out, and I’ve been looking for it since I got here. Still, I never noticed this.”

  Another way out. Why did he even come here? Just to fill Miriam’s head with lies? To make us question our faith?

  “Something’s wrong,” Aaron says. “Where is everyone?”

  He’s right. The city is eerily empty. Yes, it’s night. But it’s not a normal night. Shouldn’t people be worried about our whereabouts? Or did they not even know we were gone?

  “They’re at Chapel. Daniel’s going to open the Book.”

  The voice is Miriam’s, and my whole body pulses with emotion: fear, anticipation. Desire. Her hair is wild, and she’s dressed in clothing that clearly wasn’t made for her, the top too big and the skirt too short. But she still looks like an angel, bathed in moonlight.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right! I thought . . .” She breaks off, swallowing hard. “Susanna said . . .”

  “We’re all right,” I say. I want to pull her close, to hold her and never let go. But I can’t, not here, in public. In front of her husband. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself.

  “All right?” Aaron snorts under his breath. Louder, he asks, “Have you heard anything about my parents?”

  Miriam nods. “I was at their house when Susanna came for them.”

  Susanna? With Aaron’s parents? What is she up to?

  “They told me,” Miriam adds, staring at Aaron with an expression I can’t decipher.

  “Told you what?” I ask.

  Miriam turns to me, a strange smile on her face. Is she crying? She places her hand on my cheek. Part of me is shocked, but I’m powerless to stop her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. “Everything I thought I wanted.”

  Without thinking, I press my lips to hers, and it’s somehow both sweeter and darker than my memories. I kiss her with a fervor I’ve never possessed before, the emotions from the last few hours fusing inside me. The doubt, the fear, the anger.

  Aaron coughs, and Miriam pushes me back. Gently. “We can’t do this,” she reminds me.

  I start to agree, but then she says, “Not just because it’s a sin.” Her eyes fill with tears again, and I sneak a glance at Aaron, but he’s turned his back to us.

  “I need time to think,” Miriam continues. “To sort things out. And I can’t do that here.”

  Here. In New Jerusalem? What is she saying? “Damn it,” I say, the words exploding from my lips. I move toward Aaron, but Miriam steps in front of me.

  “Stop. This has nothing to do with him.”

  “He’s a traitor. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

  “A traitor? Because he told me the truth? Daniel’s the traitor. He’s the one who’s been manipulating us. Lying to us. It isn’t as bad Outside as he’s told us. There isn’t a war. Delilah isn’t dead!”

  The rest is nonsense. But how does she know about Delilah? I glare at Aaron. “What has he done to you?” I ask Miriam. “If he hadn’t stopped me, I could have found Delilah. And if he hadn’t put these ideas in your head in the first place, you could have asked for a divorce and we could have been married.”

  She stares at me, as if I’m a stranger she no longer recognizes, then shakes her head. “No, we couldn’t. Daniel was never going to let us be together. Even if any of this”—she waves a hand toward the Council House behind her—“had been real.”

  Not real? How can she say that? This is our home, our life. “Our love is real. I love you. Do you love me?”

  She hesitates, doubt shuttering her face, and my heart cracks inside my chest.

  “So that’s it then. You’re choosing him. Over me.”

  “Oh, so now you think I should get to choose?” She doesn’t look guilty anymore, nostrils flared and eyes blazing. “Don’t you see? I don’t have any say in my own life—not as long as I stay here. My name isn’t going to be in that Book, but you know what? I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

  I can’t speak. She mentioned leaving to me once before, but that was nonsense. Just worry over her friend. She can’t talk like this. This is Blasphemy. I don’t know a way to save her now. Worse, it’s clear she doesn’t want me to.

  Aaron says, “I’m
sorry to interrupt your . . . moment, here, but we should get to Chapel.” He waves toward the building. People are starting to file through the doors. “I need to see my . . . Abraham and Sarah.” He turns to me. “And you need to find Marcus. Daniel’s angry at him, just like you said. We need to be there when he opens the Book. Just in case.”

  In case what? But I can’t break through the pain that fogs my mind to ask the question. I follow behind them down the path, as if in a dream. Only this is my worst nightmare.

  When we get closer, Miriam stops. “There’s Phoebe,” she says. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Wait.”

  She pauses, and for a brief second, I’m grateful to Aaron. Even if he is my rival. Maybe he can convince her to stay when I can’t. He digs in his pocket. “I think this belongs to her.” And he drops the necklace into her open hand. “It was Azariah’s.”

  “Where did you get this?” she whispers.

  Aaron jerks his head toward the pile of rocks. “The tunnels.”

  “I don’t understand. When were you in the tunnels?”

  “Long story. But Azariah’s dead. We found his . . . remains.”

  She closes her eyes, as if in silent prayer. When she opens them, she’s looking at me.

  “I didn’t know,” I say. “I swear.” But it feels as if I’m apologizing for something else.

  “Go on without me,” she says, turning away.

  Aaron urges me forward, but I can’t move. Go on without me. Doesn’t she know that isn’t possible?

  Without her, what do I have left?

  54

  MIRIAM

  It isn’t a decision I ever thought I’d make: my freedom over my faith. Saying it to Caleb, bearing his disappointment, felt like dragging a sick animal up a mountain and then pushing it off a cliff. But there is no other way. He still believes in Daniel, still feels the obligation to serve, an obligation I am ready to throw off like a tattered dress that no longer fits. For the first time in my life, I’m making a choice all on my own, and I know it’s the right one. My mother wasn’t lying: It’s always hardest the first time.

  “Phoebe!” I hurry forward to catch my teacher before she slips inside the Chapel. Before I do anything else, she deserves to know the truth.

  “Miriam.” She nods at me and tries to turn away, but not before I see her eyes are red and puffy.

  “Are you all right?” When she doesn’t answer, I grab her hand and pull her through the foyer and into a curtained alcove outside the sanctuary, usually reserved for mothers with fussy babies. “Are you worried about the Book?” I ask. “Because there’s something you should know. It’s about Azariah.”

  She starts to shake her head, then looks up sharply. “What about Azariah?”

  I press the necklace into her hands. “Aaron and Caleb found that. In the tunnels. He . . .” I stumble, trying to put it together in my head. Why were any of them in the tunnels? Susanna said Aaron and Caleb had been arrested. And Azariah was supposed to have run away.

  Phoebe turns the crucifix over in her hands, then makes a fist around it. “This was Azariah’s?” When she raises her head, she isn’t looking at me, but past, to someplace I can’t see. “How do you know?”

  “Aaron said—” This is harder than I thought it would be. But telling her is the right thing. I’m so tired of all the lies. I can’t be the only one. “Aaron said they found him. His remains.” I use the same word he did, wondering what it even means. What remained?

  A shudder runs through her entire body as she takes this in.

  “Caleb and Aaron.” She worries her dead husband’s cross between her fingers. “I thought they were . . . Never mind. The tunnels?”

  I need to tell her the rest. About Rachel and Naomi. But I can’t find the words to hurt her further. “Why is Daniel opening the Book now?” I ask instead. “Does it have something to do with me and Caleb? Or Caleb and Aaron?” Everything is happening so fast, I haven’t had time to think about all I’ve learned, or how it all fits together.

  “Oh, Miriam. In some ways, you’re as self-absorbed as the men. None of this is about you. It never has been.”

  My cheeks flame as if she’s slapped them, but I accept the blow because I’ve just dealt her a worse one. Her honesty stings, but it also absolves me of the last of my guilt. It isn’t my sin that’s set all of this in motion.

  “Azariah isn’t Rachel’s father,” I blurt. “It was Daniel. My mother told me. She knows because she . . . and he . . . because Rachel and I are the same. Sisters.” All my life, we lived like sisters, but now that I know we’re blood, the word rings hollow, and I swallow back a sob.

  All of the color leaches from her face, like wood left out in the sun, as she studies my face for signs of deception. Or maybe she’s looking for clues to my parentage. Her lips move silently, either trying to absorb the information or more likely in prayer. Then she covers her face with a shaky hand. “Now I understand. Dear God, how could I have been so stupid?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand any of it. I mean, he didn’t want anyone to know what he’d done to Naomi, so he sent her away. And he kept Rachel here because she was his daughter. But why would he let you think Azariah had betrayed you?”

  Her whole body sags, as if her belief in Daniel was all that was holding her upright. “Do you remember our lessons about Vashti?” she asks, instead of answering me.

  “What does Vashti have to do with anything?”

  “What was her crime?” Phoebe asks, gripping my shoulders. “Think.”

  Her insistent fingers dig into my skin as I try to focus. “Vashti refused to dance for her husband and his audience. So, disobedience?”

  “And why did she disobey?”

  “Why does any of this matter right now?” I’m totally confused. Am I dreaming? But even Daniel couldn’t interpret this one. The thought of him trying makes me want to laugh hysterically. I’m hysterical. No. I’m panicking.

  “It’s important that you understand,” Phoebe says. “That I taught you something. Tell me what Vashti did.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I nod. She’s scaring me with her intensity, but if this is what she wants from me, this last thing, I can give it to her. “Vashti didn’t want to dance for her husband. Naked. So she refused.”

  Phoebe is nodding, tears streaming down her face. “She didn’t want to be stared at by strangers. Objectified. And yet, she was the one who was punished. Made to feel shame. But the shame wasn’t hers at all, was it? And she knew that. Because she was strong.” Her voice breaks. “I’m sorry, Miriam. I should have been stronger. For myself, and for the rest of you. It’s too late for me, but you can still save yourself.”

  “How?” I ask, fear weaving a knot in my belly. No matter what’s about to happen, I know my name will not be in that Book. But that’s not what I’m afraid of. There’s a freedom in not believing, but it comes with a price. Because not only do I not trust Daniel to save us anymore, I also don’t trust him not to hurt us.

  “He’s conditioned us all to turn our minds from sin. To accept everything he does, because it’s for the greater good. And if we question it, we’re the perverted.” Her smile is bitter. “He’s going to keep doing it,” Phoebe continues, shaking her head. “Before me, there was Naomi, and before her, your mother. It’s his pattern, and his weakness. You see it, don’t you?”

  “I don’t,” I whisper. “Why are you telling me this? What can I do?”

  “You’re his blood. When your name isn’t called, he won’t Banish you outright. He’ll call you forward. Give you one last chance to Repent. You have a chance to end this.”

  “End this?” My head is spinning so hard I feel like all the words she’s saying are completely new and without meaning.

  “I tried to be good, Miriam. Noble, even. Live up to his example. But I did it at the expense of common sense. Don
’t be like me. Stop ignoring that little voice inside you, the one that chides your faithfulness, and tell them what you know.”

  “I don’t know anything!”

  But then I think of all I’ve learned these past few days, the truths I was once afraid to face. I know Daniel is a liar. And so are the beliefs he fed us. For instance, that women are the weaker sex. If scripture says we have the power to bring a righteous man to his knees, aren’t we the strong ones? Shouldn’t we be listened to and feared, rather than shamed and ignored? And what was so disobedient about Vashti refusing to show her naked body to strangers, anyway?

  But it wasn’t that, was it? She embarrassed the king. She defied him. She spoke up. “Vashti used her voice,” I say, and a glimmer of light comes back into Phoebe’s eyes.

  Now it’s time to use mine.

  55

  CALEB

  It was all for nothing. My sins, my guilt. My sacrifice. My prayers. None of it matters. I tried so hard to be a good disciple. To do the right thing. Yes, I sinned. I coveted. I dreamt about a married woman. I kissed her. I urged her to adultery. But I also tried my hardest to be righteous. I refused to take a wife I didn’t love. I resisted Susanna’s temptations. I protected my brother. I tried to save Delilah. I begged God and Daniel both for guidance, and when I got no answer, I still remained strong. Faithful. And it was all for nothing.

  “Nothing!”

  “Jesus Christ, Caleb!” Aaron shoves me back against the side of Chapel, just as a group of neighbors turn in our direction.

  I lean my head back against the building and close my eyes. I’m tired. I’m cold. I’m hungry. None of that matters either. Because I’m also defeated. Miriam doesn’t love me. I thought the night she left me alone at the Mill was the worst pain I’d ever endured. But back then, I could only guess at her change of heart. Knowing is much worse.

  “Listen closely.” Aaron’s voice is urgent, but I can’t even muster the energy to open my eyes. “Daniel thinks we’re already dead. That’s the only advantage we’ve got, understand? That means you’ve got to pull yourself together. We’ve got to get inside without anyone seeing us.”