Dispersion

  I blink at how genuine his offer appears. Why would he be so kind to a stranger he just met? He doesn’t owe me anything.

  Jerry holds the door open for me. There are two stalls, four urinals, and four showers in the back corner. After I relieve myself, I grab a clean towel from the rack and get in the shower. The knobs are different from what I’m used to. When the water comes on, I jump back. It’s still cold.

  I keep out of the water’s pathway as I wait for it to warm up.

  The sound of my stomach rumbling makes me speed through my shower. None of their soap or shampoo is scented. It smells vaguely of clean laundry. I sniff my skin and shrug.

  I wrap the towel around my waist and grab my dirty clothes. Jerry is still in the shower, but there are two other men by the urinals. When I open the door, I almost run into Isaac, whose head only comes up to my shoulders. He eyes my scar stretching across my chest—the great memento my brother gave me when we were children.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  He drops his eyes. “Sorry,” Isaac mutters and backs up so I can get past him.

  I pass more strangers in the hallway and almost all of them stare at my chest. Their attention is unnerving. I have to actively focus on not covering it up.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I get to my room. I should be past all my insecurities surrounding my scar. I know this; Jess helped me find that confidence. Though, with her gone, nothing is certain.

  I drop my clothes on the floor and stare at them in disgust. Some of the blood from the Letum that almost killed Josie is still visible. I run my hands through my hair, wondering why they had to take away the clothes. Do they expect me to wear the same, dirty outfit every day?

  With nothing else to do, I open the top drawer in the dresser. There are identical boxer briefs and white socks. In the second drawer, shirts in almost every color are neatly folded. They all look a little small. The third drawer has black shorts made with loose, dark material. They feel comfortable enough to sleep in. The fourth drawer has this blue coarse material.

  I pick up a pair and unfold it. They look like pants but have pockets in the front and back with a zipper and button in the front. I frown as I study them. They’re shorter than I would like. They probably won’t fit well and don’t seem as comfortable as the pants we had in the territories. I fold them back up and close that drawer. Finally, at the bottom of the dresser are light, casual jackets in either black or gray.

  At least I’ll be able to put some clean clothes on. They must have kept the room stocked with standard sizes. I’ll have to ask if they have any larger ones.

  I open the drawers again and grab everything I’ll need to wear today. Because the pants seem too short, I grab a pair of the loose shorts and put them on. They fall above my knees. I initially choose a purple shirt but put it back and exchange it for a gray one. The purple is way too outlandish.

  I run my hands through my wet hair, trying to tame it, and rub my chin. I haven’t shaved since we left four days ago. This is probably the longest I’ve ever let my facial hair grow. I scratch it, trying to decide if I should shave it or let it keep growing.

  My stomach rumbles again. I’d rather go find something to eat than search for a razor—even though with my longer hair and stubble, I probably look a little wild. After years of always having to be meticulously groomed in Potentia, leaving the room slightly unkempt feels like a small act of rebellion, however ridiculous that may seem.

  The clock on my nightstand tells me it’s 6:47 a.m. I want to get to the start of the line in the Mess Hall. I haven’t had any food since yesterday’s small lunch of leftover food packets from the territories. All we ever had available in the territories was food packets. I’m not sure if that method of food distribution started before or after they broke away.

  Not seeing any other shoe options, I put on my dirty boots. Even though they come up past my ankles, the mud and blood from the Letum make them clash with how clean I am everywhere else.

  I lock my room as I’m leaving and put the key in the pocket of my shorts along with the folded map and work assignment instructions. I’ve never worn anything like them. The material is flexible. They’re a definite improvement.

  On my way to the Mess Hall, which I luckily remember from when Isaac showed me to my room yesterday, I pass Jerry. He waves cheerfully as he walks past me. I return his smile and focus on recreating the route backward from yesterday.

  Luckily, it’s almost a straight shot down the hallway. When I do need to turn, it’s obvious because of the chatter coming from a big room. I follow the noise and let out my breath when I step into the Mess Hall. Large, brown tables fill the room with benches on each side of them. In the front of the room, is an elevated stage with a large pole and microphone attached. Though it looks like that space can be used for important events, it’s empty right now.

  In the corner is a short line of people—at least for the moment—waiting to go into an open doorway that leads out to another side, presumably where people go after they’ve received their meals.

  I stand in line behind a couple, probably around Dominic’s age. The father holds a young baby in his arms. His hair is even messier than mine and the mother’s is casually put up in a bun. Both have dark brown hair, though hers is slightly lighter.

  The woman, whose wide, long features look oddly familiar, turns her head to him. “Don’t forget to tell her that he didn’t sleep at all last night, so he’ll probably be fussy today,” she says.

  “I know, babe.” He yawns loudly, exposing his crooked teeth. “Trust me, I won’t forget that he was up.”

  She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him. “Thanks.”

  I shift my feet. My movement catches her attention and she looks up at me, her brown, tired eyes alight with interest.

  “You must be one of the new folks. My brother was talking about you last night at dinner. I’m Catherine,” she says.

  “Elliot.”

  “Adam,” the man next to her says in a deep voice that doesn’t quite match his shorter height. He gestures with his head toward the now sleeping baby in his arms. “And this little guy here is Jeremiah.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you. Who is your brother?” I ask, though I’m fairly sure what she’s going to say.

  “Oh, I guess I should have started with that. Isaac is my younger brother. He works in onboarding and administration,” she says needlessly.

  “He mentioned he had a sister. Have you met Allison yet?”

  Catherine and Adam shake their heads.

  “Allison came with me, along with my brother and…” I hesitate, not knowing how to refer to her, “and Jess. Allison has a young baby, too—a daughter.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful news. I’ll have to meet her. We can talk about all the joys of motherhood.” Catherine covers her mouth as she yawns. “Case in point—like the lack of sleep.”

  “We could use more couple friends right now,” Adam says. “There haven’t been a lot of new parents lately.”

  Another painful reminder of Matt’s death. I close my eyes to try to erase the image of his broken body taking its last breath as his chest stilled.

  “The father died almost a month ago,” I mutter. I don’t want their pity, even if it isn’t directed at me.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought with your brother here…” Adam fumbles and shifts uncomfortably.

  I let out a deep breath and look back at them. “No, they aren’t together.” I let out a brief chuckle at the image.

  “Nonetheless, I’d like to meet Allison,” Catherine says with such genuine kindness in her expression. “Isaac mentioned that you didn’t come here with much. I’ll talk to some of the ladies today after church about getting supplies for the baby together.”

  “That would be great,” I say. “Thank you so much.”

  Adam clasps my shoulder. “If there’s anything else, don’t feel uncomfortable asking.”

  My eyes narrow, trying to figure out what
his ulterior motive is. What does he want from me in return?

  Both of them look at me openly, though slightly confused by my expression. I relax my face as the line starts moving. We all take a step forward.

  “I think they’re staying across the hall from you. At least, that’s what Isaac mentioned last night.”

  “Oh, excellent. I’m sure I’ll run into her soon then,” she says as she refocuses her attention in front of her to follow the line. It’s moving quickly now.

  Right before I’m about to grab a tray, someone clasps my back.

  “Oh good, Joe. You got us a spot in line,” Dominic says as he cuts in front of the annoyed people behind me.

  I brush his arm off.

  “What would you like, dear?” an older lady in a white suit asks me from behind the glass on a long, metal serving station.

  “Um…” I look at all the choices. I’ve never had so many options before. I’m not sure where to even start. Nothing looks familiar.

  She smiles through her yellowed teeth. “You’re new, right?”

  “I am.”

  “How about this. I’ll give you a meal and tomorrow when you come back, you let me know if you like it or not. Sound good?”

  “That sounds great,” I say and return her smile easily. She’s about the age my grandmother was.

  She plops some fluffy, tan, circular food on a plate, two brown meat links, and smothers it all with a brown thick liquid. In a separate section on the plate, she puts down something I recognize: eggs.

  “This is a fairly standard breakfast. You have some pancakes and sausage, drizzled with some syrup, and some scrambled eggs to keep you nice and full between now and lunch,” she says as she hands me my plate.

  I take the plate from her. It’s heavier than it looks. “Thanks.”

  “Of course, dear.” She takes the time to smile warmly at me again before redirecting her attention toward Dominic. “And you?”

  I walk past the hallway and sit at the table in the far corner, hoping my brother doesn’t see me and sits elsewhere. Of course, I should have known better.

  Thirty seconds later, he sits down next to me—somehow impossible to get rid of.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m forced to accept Dominic’s company when we walk through the giant archway to get into the church. Two giant, stained glass windows cover the opposite wall letting in the light from the sun. Between them, there’s a T-shaped wooden spike with a shirtless, longhaired, bearded man hanging from it.

  “What…” I whisper, not exactly sure what I’m seeing.

  His hands are nailed into the wood and there’s some sort of headband he’s wearing that looks like it’s covered in spikes. Blood drips down his emaciated body.

  Dominic is staring at the figure in confusion as well.

  “What could they possibly believe in?” he mutters, low enough so only I can hear him.

  No one else in the room seems put off by the violent image at the front of the room. They accept the centerpiece without a second thought.

  “Let’s go find a seat,” I say. We’re already gathering enough attention by being unfamiliar faces and gaping stupidly at their religious figure. It isn’t going to help this situation.

  “Is this everyone at the compound?” Dominic whispers. “Surely they still must have some guards out…”

  While I obviously can’t count everyone, there could easily be around 200 people in here. They weren’t kidding when they said it was mandatory. What could be so important to require these daily meetings?

  “Let’s sit down,” I repeat.

  Dominic keeps walking down the aisle until he finds a gap on a bench wide enough for the two of us to sit. The bench, though it has a maroon velvet seat cushion on it, is far from comfortable and it eerily reminds me of the community center where they purposefully made the chairs uncomfortable so we would stay awake during the territory meetings.

  Now that we’re seated, there are fewer eyes on us, though those seated nearby still glance at us with respectful courtesy. In the row ahead, sits Jerry, his familiar bald head bowed as if he’s in deep thought.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  Looking around the large, old room as if he’s seeking the answer, Dominic merely shrugs. Our upbringing in Potentia did not prepare us for this.

  We eye the room nervously.

  Finally, Silas—in what looks like an oversized black robe, but nicer—comes out to the stage and stands directly in front of the statue of the hanging man.

  Everyone stills and the quiet conversations that were taking place cease instantly. Our Territory Leader demanded the same amount of respect when he would get our attention.

  “Blessings be upon everyone in the room today. God has given us yet another beautiful morning to worship Him. Let us bow our heads in prayer,” he says, and everyone follows his command.

  We’re about a second later than everyone else in complying. In this delay, I’m able to spot Jess and Allison around five rows ahead of us off in the corner. That was smart of them. We shouldn’t have sat in the middle.

  “Lord, we want to thank You for bringing us together this morning so we can honor You. Thank You for providing the food so we may nourish our bodies and have the strength to serve You. We ask that You continue to protect our people from harm and lead us into Your grace. In Your name we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the entire room echoes and I startle in surprise.

  “Our Father…” he begins, and the rest of the people in the room join in with him in a monotone, unified voice. “Which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name…”

  The prayer continues, but my attention drifts away from the words and instead focuses on the attitude of everyone in the room. They all utter the words together and seem to come through as one mind. They don’t seem like 200 different people, but rather, the prayer comes from one voice. They all belong.

  The chanting ends with another cohesive “Amen.”

  He gestures, raising his hands up, and the people all stand at the same time. Once again, Dominic and I are slightly delayed in following suit.

  Silas looks around the room, seemingly making eye contact with everyone, though that’s impossible with the sheer number of people in the room. Accustomed to his routine, everyone—even the children—remains quiet as he makes his pass through the room. I stare straight ahead, not blinking, waiting to see if he’s going make eye contact with me.

  Before he can, without a cue that neither Dominic nor I pick up on, everyone sits back down and looks up expectantly toward Silas, waiting for him to speak.

  I’ve never seen anyone exhibit so much control over a group of people. Not even Dominic has been able to accomplish this. My brother shifts in his seat and drums his fingers on his thigh—a motion that, at least to me, gives away his unease.

  “As many of you may know by now, we have been blessed with five new members to our compound. As they’ve come from the godless territories that have been subjected to the genetic manipulation, He has spared them from this disgusting marring of nature. God is good.”

  “God is good,” the crowd says in unison.

  From beside me, Dominic sits up straighter. Besides that slight movement, he stays perfectly still. It would be interesting to have seen Silas give this speech out in the territories. He would be eaten alive.

  Literally.

  I accidentally let out a bark of laughter, garnering even more attention. Dominic elbows me in the ribs, and I quickly adopt a more somber expression.

  “While we shall not blame them for their upbringing, we must all pray for them to spot the errors of their ways and join us in the light. As we welcome them into our church, we must guide them away from their sinning ways. With His help, all things are possible. God is good.”

  From my sinning ways? Back in Potentia, the only girl I could get to talk to me was my mother.

  “God is good,” Silas’s people repeat back to him in perfect harmony.

 
; Everyone is paying such close attention. They seem to genuinely believe all of this. How low do they think our group is?

  Laughing suddenly feels like the last thing I want to do. We’re going to have to be careful.

  Silas gestures to a person behind a large organ with golden pipes spread up through the wall. It’s impressive architecture.

  An unfamiliar melody rings out, and in that nerve-racking, single-minded organism that is this group, the singing starts.

  “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the king of creation. Oh my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation…”

  The song continues for a few verses. The lady next to me is singing loudly, as is everyone else, but she’s off pitch. I bite back my laughter. She doesn’t seem to realize how ridiculous she sounds. Instead, she’s putting all of her energy into joining the crowd.

  I’m unable to maintain focus on the words that they’re saying. The atmosphere in the room is stifling with everyone blindly following along. Dominic’s fingers continue to drum, though they’re out of rhythm with the song. His eyes scan the crowd rapidly.

  The song ends and immediately transitions to a more upbeat tune. The crowd sings out, the man’s baritone next to me ringing through the halls. I look around in nervous wonder at the single body religion has created. If they’re all on the same page here, how could there ever be any disagreement in any other avenue of life? Everyone is so in sync with one another.

  The organ stops playing and everyone stands together. Dominic and I follow their lead, though Dominic takes longer than I do to get back on his feet.

  “For today’s sermon, I want to discuss the imminent destruction of the human’s time here. Just as God has granted us our life, He can take it away. He has given us time and time again to honor Him justly, yet there are people who smother themselves in sin and succumb to the darkness.”

  The lady next to me nods. Everyone in this room is agreeing with Silas. I’ve never felt so out of place in my entire life. Even as an Unplanned in Potentia, it wasn’t as odd as this. At least here, no one is pointing out how much I don’t belong.