“It’s funny, he once told us those were the kinds of sins that happened on the Outside. Remember when he told us about the terrible men who like to lie down with girls? Yet he lies with Susanna now. Just as he lay with my mother and Naomi. Just as he lay with Phoebe. He isn’t righteous or a prophet or our leader. He’s just a filthy sinner.”
There is one more second of quiet, then chaos. Gasps and shouting. People struggling to their feet, others collapsing. I search for my mother in the audience but can’t find her. Does Daniel’s relationship with Susanna remind her of what her father did to her? Maybe she’ll go with me, after all.
In the confusion, someone grabs me.
Daniel’s fingers are an iron band around my wrist.
“That’s quite a story, Miriam,” he says. “But as I’ve told you before, not all dreams are prophetic. And not all dreamers are prophets.”
“You certainly aren’t.”
He studies me closely, and though I’m tempted to look away, I don’t. “God wants your obedience.”
“No, you want my obedience.” I spit at his feet.
He slaps me, hard, and a salty, copper taste fills my mouth. His loss of control should shock me, but it doesn’t. He slaps me again, my head bobbing back and then forward.
“Slow to anger,” I say, watching droplets of my blood splatter the floor like raindrops.
He must become aware of the audience, because he straightens and turns toward them, still gripping my wrist. “It appears we have not only a prodigal son, but a prodigal daughter as well.” He raises his voice, and some of the turmoil quiets. They are still his Children, and though I have just exposed him as a fraud, their instinct is to turn to him for comfort. I can’t blame them. I used to think he possessed a unique gift for comfort as well. Now I know it’s all manipulation. What was the word Aaron used? A scam. Daniel just puts us in the most uncomfortable situations, so we must turn to him for relief.
When he has their full attention, he says, “Your dear Sister thinks lying about me will save her from her fate. It will not.” He snatches the book from my hand and holds it up. “And now we must add it to the list of other sins you’ve committed. Fornication. Covetousness. Adultery. They are all poison from the same tree. Really, Miriam, have I taught you nothing about self-respect?”
“No,” I say, yanking my wrist free and spitting out more blood. “You’ve taught me how to bend my will to someone else’s. You’ve taught me to shut my mouth when I wish to speak. You’ve taught me to smile and acquiesce when every fiber of my being is screaming out to resist. You’ve taught me to be obedient, to submit. But you’ve never taught me anything about self-respect.”
“Why do you think we spend so much time preaching to you? Trying to keep you on the Path of Righteousness?” Daniel runs his fingers lightly across the book’s leather cover. “But I’m a kind man. I’m going to give you a choice.”
“A choice? For me? I’m a woman. I’m not allowed to make decisions,” I remind him.
“That’s not true. You’ve always had a choice. Be faithful. Or face the consequences.”
I’ve never noticed it before, but choice sounds a lot like voice. I’m usually allowed neither. Perhaps now that I’ve used one, I should exercise the other.
“I don’t believe in you or your empty threats,” I say. “Nothing you say holds any power over me. I am leaving. By my own choice. Not yours.”
I don’t know where the words come from, exactly, but once they are free, so am I. There’s no going back now.
But Caleb must disagree, because he steps forward from the shadows, holding a gun. And it’s pointed at Daniel and me.
57
CALEB
I cock the gun, pulling the hammer back with a loud click. Daniel flinches, while Miriam looks stunned, her eyes wide and her mouth open. The rest of the congregation has gone still. I can’t tell if they have been struck dumb by Miriam’s revelations, or are just scared of the gun.
Only Thomas tries to move forward.
“If you take another step, I will shoot Daniel,” I say. I won’t, not yet, but they don’t know that.
“You know I know how to use this,” I say, eyes trained on my Prophet. “You taught me how.”
Daniel licks his lips. “Do as he says. Drop your weapons.” He sounds less like my spiritual leader and more like a scared old man.
Both Thomas and Gideon toss their guns to the floor.
Aaron steps out from behind the curtain, hands raised, and I pivot the gun slightly toward him. “Don’t do this, man,” he says.
“Shut up!” I yell. “Most of this is your fault anyway! Stop moving.” Aaron freezes mid-step. “Sit down. On the floor.”
“Me?” Aaron asks. “Or—” He gestures to Daniel.
“Yes. All of you.” I back up, so they are all in my line of vision, and point the gun back at Daniel. “You too.”
They lower themselves to the floor, Aaron’s gaze on Gideon’s gun, as if he’s calculating the distance to reach it.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Well, you stole my gun,” Aaron says. “That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? Leaving me unarmed. Helpless. Knowing what you do now about this fraud.”
“Shut up,” I say again. Dear Lord. Not even a gun pointed at him will keep his mouth shut. I can’t think while he’s talking. “I just need a minute.” All of the things Miriam said. They can’t be true. Daniel and Phoebe? And now Daniel and Susanna? Rachel and Miriam are his daughters? He may not be infallible, but he’s not evil.
But what about Azariah? We found his body.
I blink and rub my hand against my forehead. My head feels like it’s on fire. I need someone to help me figure this all out. I look out at the congregation, at my family. Marcus? But his loyalty is to Susanna. It always has been. And my mother? Will always defer to Father, who will defend Daniel to the death. There is no one I can trust to be completely on my side. So I keep the gun trained on Daniel, while I step over to the guards’ guns and use my foot to slide them out of the way, behind the podium.
Aaron presses his lips together and turns to look at the crowd. Trying to get help?
“Turn around,” I order him, and wait until he scoots around so he faces me, his back to the room.
“Caleb, please,” Miriam says. She presses her hands together, as if in prayer. “This isn’t going to solve anything.”
“And what will? You leaving?” I’m ashamed at the way my voice cracks. I’m stronger than this. “You can’t go. This is all wrong. This is just a . . . a mistake.” I search desperately for the words that will convince her. “We were supposed to be married,” I say. “You know that’s true. Daniel knows it’s true.” I shake the gun in his direction. “But he.” I turn to Aaron. “He screwed it all up. If he hadn’t, none of this would be happening. We’d be happy. Can’t you see that?”
She shakes her head, her curls—those soft curls—brushing her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter,” she says.
“It does matter!”
“We can’t go back. We can’t change anything. And . . . I don’t want to. I’m sorry, Caleb,” she adds hastily, stretching out her hand, “I don’t want to hurt you. But my eyes are open now. I can see the truth, and I’m glad.”
“The truth? The only truth I know is that I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“That isn’t truth,” she says. “That’s just a feeling. A feeling Daniel encouraged, because it served his purpose. But that doesn’t make it real.”
Daniel looks like he’s going to argue, but Miriam goes on. “You say you love me. Then you should understand why I need to go. You can even come with me, if you want. Everyone can.” She glances around the room, raises her voice. “There’s nothing left for you here.”
There is murmuring from the crowd, but I ignore it. “So what? You’re just going to
walk away?”
“Let her go, son,” Daniel says.
“Don’t call me son.” I tighten my grip on the pistol, the butt of the gun slick in my hand.
“The devil is strong in her,” Daniel says softly. “But you can still be saved. Because you know the truth.”
But I don’t, not anymore. Miriam is right. I can’t separate truth from emotion. Maybe this has been my problem all along.
“You didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself,” I say, shaking the gun at Daniel. “I have done everything you asked! I tried to be righteous! And still, you blame me. At the Matrimony, I didn’t pick a wife, because I knew it would be wrong. To take a woman God had not chosen for me. But where did that get me? Alone and punished, while the others got to go on frolicking and fornicating.” All the anger and the sadness pours out of me, as if I’ve opened a floodgate deep inside. “You were angry about the Matrimony. But you didn’t do anything about it! You didn’t stop them! How can you call yourself a Leader?”
Daniel closes his eyes. His lips move, but no sound comes out.
“Are you praying right now? It’s a little late, isn’t it? On second thought, why don’t you go ahead and call God. I have a couple of questions for him, too. Like—”
From the corner of my eye, I see Aaron trying to mouth something to Miriam. I turn the gun on him. “Don’t talk to her. I will shoot you. It would be much easier than killing him.”
Aaron snaps his mouth shut and nods once.
“I was trying to fix things,” I say, turning back to Daniel. “I was going to get Delilah. Bring back your lost sheep. Or your coyote.” His metaphors are getting jumbled in my head. I am the lost sheep. Delilah was the coyote. Or was that Marcus?
My vision blurs for a minute. The air feels thick, heavy. Susanna was the one who called Marcus a coyote. But if she’s really been this close to Daniel all along—as close as Miriam said—was everything Susanna told me about Marcus a lie? Because if Miriam was right, then it wasn’t Marcus I saw Susanna with, that night she was out after dark.
“Susanna was with a man. At the bathhouse,” I say. “Was it you?” I focus on Daniel. I need to see his face. I need to know if any of it is true. But he keeps his eyes closed and his face blank. “Is that why you sent Marcus Out with Delilah? So you could have Susanna all to yourself? Is that why her name is in the Book? Because she’s your lover?”
I lean down and snatch it from his lap.
I keep the gun aimed, using my extended arm to brace the book. As I flip through, the chasm in my heart grows wider and deeper. It is Daniel’s handwriting. Worse, it’s not just a list of names. It’s notes. About all of us.
It’s a journal.
“‘Suitable matches for Matrimony,’” I read aloud, my voice hollow. “‘Caleb and Miriam.’” I look at her, and she looks away. “‘Marcus and Rachel? Aaron and Susanna.’” My heart is so heavy, it pushes the breath from my chest. “You did plan it. These aren’t God’s words. They’re yours.”
I shouldn’t read on, but I can’t help myself. I page back, spot Father’s name. “‘Hananiah has asked for his son to be placed on the Church Council,’” I read aloud. I look at Father, his face like stone. “‘He is willing to pay handsomely for this honor. However.’” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat before I can go on. “‘However, Caleb is not intellectually equipped for such a position. Perhaps Marcus would be more suitable.’”
I am gutted. I have nothing left. No heart, no soul.
No faith.
I drop the book. My vision is fuzzy around the edges, narrowed to a tunnel that contains only Daniel and me. “It was you? Not my father who said I wasn’t worthy, but you?”
“Caleb,” Daniel commands. “Look at me.”
I can’t help myself. I do it.
“I am your Leader. It is my job to assess your strengths, as well as your weaknesses. To help you be a better man. So that you may shine like the stars. That’s all I was doing. You are a Child of Daniel; you deserve my best efforts. That’s why you are here—for Salvation. New Jerusalem is an oasis from sin. But only if I keep it that way.”
His words are tempting, like food to a starving man. But I can no longer be tempted.
“No. That’s what it’s supposed to be. But you’ve ruined it!” Tears and sweat burn my eyes, and I swipe them away with the back of my hand. “You’ve twisted it for your own means. You never cared about any of us. Or our salvation. You only care about being revered.”
“I love all my children,” Daniel argues. “Just as I tried to love you. But sadly, you aren’t worthy. The stars of righteousness will never be yours. You’re neither wise nor a leader.” His tone is mocking, and the gun trembles in my hand. “Do you know why we’re here right now?” he continues. “It’s because of your temper, your total lack of self-control. How many times have I told you it would be your downfall?”
Too many to count.
“Put the gun down, Caleb.” Daniel’s voice is sharp, strong. The voice of a Leader. But he still hasn’t answered my questions.
“What about Azariah? We found his body. In the tunnel. Did you kill him?”
For a crazy moment, I think he might tell me the truth. But I’ve forgotten. Daniel doesn’t share knowledge. He wields it. Like a weapon.
“Caleb. Who are you going to believe? Your Prophet? Or an adulterous whore? Now either put the gun down or put it to good use.” Daniel waves a hand in Miriam and Aaron’s direction, then gets to his knees.
A part of me still wants to believe him, believe in him. Do what he says. Put everything back to normal. He is my Leader, and I am but a follower.
He is also the only one who can make Miriam stay.
Miriam. So beautiful. And so defiant. The way she stood up to Daniel and spoke her truth out loud. So brave.
And all at once I realize—this is what I’ve loved about her from the beginning. That she pushes back. That she knows her own mind. That she has a voice.
So I can’t force her—to stay, to believe in something she doesn’t. To live a lie. And I can’t force her to love me.
That would make me no better than my father. Or Daniel.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Miriam. And I am. For all the ways I failed her. And for what I’m about to do. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I’ve always loved you.”
Then I point the gun. And I pull the trigger.
58
MIRIAM
I wake with a scream in my throat. The dark room is quiet, and I wait, my heartbeat eventually slowing, as I try once more to separate reality and dream. It’s been this way for the past seven nights, ever since we left New Jerusalem. The shooting, the screams, the blood, the fire. As hard as I try not to think about it during the day, as soon as I fall asleep, I’m right back in that moment. Aaron says it is my mind, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. He says this is the way of dreams. Sometimes they are wishes, sometimes they are fears.
Sometimes they mean nothing at all.
“Are you okay?” Delilah whispers from the twin bed across the room.
I turn onto my side, just able to make out the shape of my friend’s face in the predawn light.
“Just another nightmare,” I say.
“They will pass. Eventually.” She sounds confident, and she should know. “Was this one about Caleb?”
I roll onto my back, trying to trap the tears before they escape. They’re all about Caleb, in some way or another.
“Do you think the rest will ever come Out?” I ask, mostly to change the subject.
“You have to stop saying ‘come Out.’ It means something different here,” Delilah says.
“Everything means something else. It’s not a closed community, it’s a cult. Daniel’s not a prophet, he’s just a con man. How am I supposed to keep track?” I know Delilah is just trying to be
helpful, but I’m still on edge from the dream.
“Daniel is an asshole,” Delilah says.
She learned to curse from Naomi, and it seems to come naturally to her. She’s adjusting better than the rest of us, but she’s had more time. She also didn’t witness what we did.
I’ve only had a few days, and everything is foreign to me. Crowds wherever we go. So loud and intrusive. They stick their microphones in my face and shout questions I can’t answer, so they can show them on something called television, which is some sort of one-way viewing screen. Still, it’s better than the police station we went to first. Abraham said we had to file something called charges, which meant I had to sit in a cold room and answer questions, a lot of them about Daniel, but some about Caleb and the shooting. Aaron says I haven’t done anything wrong, so I shouldn’t worry, but that some of what went on in New Jerusalem was illegal.
None of it makes any sense to me. Until recently, I didn’t know we had to follow any laws but Daniel’s.
The sheets are sticky with my own sweat, and I kick them to the end of the bed. I can hear the ocean beyond the apartment walls, whispering.
“I need some air,” I tell Delilah.
Outside the bedroom door, I nearly trip over Naomi. She sleeps on the floor in the hallway every night, outside Rachel’s bedroom. Of the three of us, Rachel is having the most trouble adjusting, and I can’t blame her. I had time to live with the thought of Daniel as something other than our prophet, days where I watched him and listened to him and tried to untangle what I’d been taught from what I really believed, until finally I was able to wrap my head around all of his lies and manipulation.
Rachel had an hour.
I have to give her credit. I threw a lot at her—her mother was still alive, her marriage wasn’t sanctioned by God, Daniel was her father—and though she didn’t want to hear it, in the end she’d trusted me and jumped in the van with the four of us. She left New Jerusalem. I used to think she was just like my mother. But it turns out she’s stronger.
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