The Light: Who do you become when the world falls away? (New Dawn Book 1)

by Jacqueline Brown

  “How? I’ve never held a weapon, let alone used one. I’ve never been in a fight. I know how to take care of myself in a club, but not in the woods. How am I—how are we—going to be ready to protect ourselves against someone who is hunting us?” I asked, angry and terrified.

  “We can train you,” he said in a calm voice.

  “You? No offense, Jonah, but you are studying to be a priest. Your brother is a priest. Your dad’s a vet, and not the ex-military kind. How are you going to train us?”

  “Just because we love God and feel called to serve him in the priesthood doesn’t mean we don’t know how to defend ourselves. Eli’s aversion to violence is stronger than the rest of ours, so he might not be the best one to train you—though he can fight pretty well if you get him mad enough,” he answered with a mischievous grin.

  “None of this makes sense. Aren’t Christians supposed to turn the other cheek or something? I know I’ve heard that,” I said.

  He laughed. “I’m sure you have heard that. But Jesus himself did not literally turn the other cheek when he was struck. Like most things he said, it has a deeper meaning. As Christians, we are called to love others, but we are not called to allow others to hurt us. We can defend ourselves, and we will,” he said with determination.

  I looked at him. He saw the questions in my eyes.

  He took a deep breath. “Years ago Mick hurt our family deeply. After that my parents wanted to do all they could to protect us. They realized that short of locking us in the house—Eli was already in seminary and I was in college—they needed to teach us how to fight. More specifically, how to defend ourselves and ensure an attacker leaves far worse off than they arrived. We all learned how to protect ourselves. Not because we wanted more violence in the world, but because we wanted less. We never wanted to be victims again. So my parents, sister, brother, and I can all teach you to defend yourself. And don’t underestimate Blaise. She is a really good shot. Way better than me. She could teach you how to shoot,” he said, looking behind us at Blaise.

  “East and your mom can fight too?” I asked, intrigued.

  “East can kick my butt any day of the week. She is the best of all of us,” he said.

  “She always seems so scared,” I said.

  “She is scared. Terrified of dogs and Wrath in particular. But put her against a human and she is amazing,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

  I was silent. I wanted so badly to ask what Mick had done, but I knew what the answer would be. He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me.

  * * *

  “The path is getting steeper. I don’t know how much farther Talin and Fulton can pull the van,” Quint said, turning to face us as he spoke.

  I’d been so focused on my conversation with Jonah, I hadn’t noticed the change in elevation. Pops had told me that my parents’ house was a bit higher in elevation than Jonah’s house, but that elevation change was so gradual it was barely noticed. This one was more drastic. Pops had said my great-great-great-grandparents had built their house on the highest point in the property. I could see now that he was right.

  Not only had the elevation changed, but the ground underfoot was no longer a road, or at least not one used in the last century. The dead leaves crunched with each step we took. To my right and left there were trees in rows. The memory of crunchy sweet apples filled my mind as I spotted a lone apple rotting on the ground beneath the trunks. I scanned the trees. They were bare except for a few stubborn leaves. I wondered how many members of my family these trees had nourished. I wondered if next fall I would be here to taste the fruit of their labor. A chill ran through me as the wind caught my hair and pushed it forward toward the house, as if I were being pushed back to my origins.

  The wind died down and I lifted my eyes to the horizon. Up ahead, rising from the now bare trees was the house, the home of my ancestors. Built over one hundred fifty years ago, the house was built of stone, no doubt from the property. It towered above the trees. It was not grand in appearance, but it was larger than I expected.

  The reins grew taught. I turned. Talin was pulling with all of her strength, desperately trying to carry her load to me. Fulton was doing the same with Jonah. They loved us and wanted to please us. I appreciated the attempt, but wanted her to stop.

  “Get some stones to put behind the tires,” Jonah shouted behind us.

  Eli, Josh, East, and Blaise all scattered, bringing back large stones and wedging them as tightly as possible under the tires. The largest stones were wedged behind the back wheels.

  Jonah walked back to Fulton. “Unhook Talin. Once the van is emptied we will be able to get it up to the house,” he said as he began unstrapping Fulton from the van.

  I did as he instructed.

  Eli helped Nonie out of the van. JP held her hand as she walked carefully toward the horses. She didn’t need his hand, but he was trying hard to be helpful. Sara hobbled out after her and walked slowly toward the horses, wincing with every step. Quinn took her hand. Quint helped his dad to his chair and pulled him up the slope toward the rest of us.

  “I don’t want us splitting up,” Charlotte said. “Not here.”

  “I agree,” Quint said. “I think I can pull Dad up. Mom and Sara can ride.”

  “I can walk,” Sara said, straightening her back.

  “No, you can’t. I will walk before I will let you walk,” Nonie said, staring her down.

  “The ground is too uneven for you to walk, Mom,” Quint said.

  “Then get me up on Talin,” Nonie said, walking to Talin and petting her.

  Jonah lifted her to the saddle, making it look effortless.

  Laughing, Nonie said, “That was easier than I thought. I forgot how strong my grandson is.” She slowly moved her left leg to the other side of the saddle. Quint held her steady as she got settled.

  Sara stood by Fulton. Jonah put his hands under her arms and lifted her to the saddle. His movements with her were not as smooth.

  “Thank you,” Sara said, looking down at him.

  The look in her eyes told me she still had a crush on him. As long as she did, he remained an object to her, not a person.

  Jonah quickly let go once she was up. “You’re welcome,” he said. He was polite and kind as always, nothing more.

  “Everyone grab something to carry,” Charlotte said, walking toward the van.

  She handed blankets to JP and Quinn. She took a box I knew contained family pictures. The rest of us grabbed what we could carry. I carried a well-worn Bible in a wooden case. The date on the front read “1696.” I carried it carefully with my left hand and held the reins of both horses with my right. My backpack still rested on my back.

  Jonah carried two small boxes of books, one under each arm, and his pack. We walked slowly toward the house. The ground underfoot was uneven, and I stumbled once or twice but caught myself. JP and Quinn were running ahead and each fell at least once. Quint pulled Pops backward so that he was facing me. I knew he was uncomfortable having his son take care of him in this way, but he smiled and joked as we went. I was struck, watching him, by how difficult it must be to allow others to serve you in the way he was served by those who loved him. I wondered if I would be as full of joy as he was if I were in his position. I knew I would not.

  When we neared the house, my pace quickened. I felt drawn to it. I had no memories of this place. Nothing would hurt me here and it was a part of my history I had never known existed. There were several large stones scattered around the base of the house. I could see places where the stones had fallen from the house, but the holes did not appear to go all the way through to the inside. I thought it must be several layers of stones thick. Brown moss covered almost all surfaces of the house. The roof was made of some kind of thin stonelike material. It reminded me of the slate coffee table in my father’s living room. The few windows were so dirty they could not be seen through.

  I stared at the large wooden door. Blaise and Josh stood near me. The three of us gazed
up at the large, two-story, stone structure before us.

  Charlotte came and stood beside me. She held out her hand. “I knew where your mom kept this. I got it from your house last night,” she said, handing me an old-fashioned key at least six inches long. She took the Bible from my arms.

  Blaise and Josh took the horses’ reins.

  I accepted the key and put it in the lock. It took both hands to turn the key. I looked at Blaise, who nodded reassuringly.

  I turned the handle and the door clicked open. I pushed the door forward and stepped into the dim house. In front of me was a small, empty foyer with a staircase. The floors were stone, with half a century’s worth of dirt on top. Moss grew here as well, creating a sort of dingy green carpet. Behind me the rest of the family entered the house, depositing their loads as they came in. Jonah and Eli helped carry Pops up the steps that led to the front door. JP held Nonie’s hand as they walked in.

  “Do you think it’s haunted?” I heard him whisper to her.

  “Of course not,” she said. Then added, “We’ll have your brother bless it just in case.”

  I walked through the small doorway to my left, not waiting for anyone else to join me. The room was dark. I went over to the drapes and pulled them open. Dust fell, creating a cloud as it drifted slowly downward. Light came through the dirt-caked windows. The room had a fireplace against the far wall. A narrow mantel above it held a small vase. In the middle of the room, facing the fireplace, was a small sofa covered with a white sheet. I pulled the sheet off, creating another cloud of dust. Beneath the sheet, the sofa was a deep red velvet with dark wood accents. Above the sofa, in the center of the ceiling, was a chandelier. My eyes followed the chain that held it as it left the ceiling and went down the side of the wall. It was hooked so the chandelier could not fall, but there was more chain hanging to the ground. It was partially hidden by a sheet-covered chair. Next to that sat a rectangular piece of furniture also covered in a sheet, and another covered chair on the other side. A worn rug extended across much of the floor. I scraped my foot over its surface, revealing a hint of green and tan beneath the dirt.

  A doorway stood between the chair and the fireplace. I walked through it. As the door opened the light shone in, illuminating shelves and shelves of books. Every wall was covered with books. Books over a century old. In the middle of the ceiling was a chandelier similar to what was in the other room. A small chaise lounge sat in front of a window. I pulled the drapes open. With the sleeve of my coat I wiped part of the dirt-encrusted glass, and peered through the small, dingy pane. There were rows of trees. An orchard, no doubt. I pulled the sheet off the chaise. It was an off-white, silky fabric. Against the outer wall was another fireplace. I remembered Pops saying this house was designed before electricity. Fire was its only heat source. We would finally be warm.

  I walked out the door of the library, turning the brass knob as I went. I could hear everyone coming in and out of the foyer. I wanted to be alone. I was partially hidden by the staircase and ducked quickly through the next doorway. This room had no drapes. The windows were small and sparse. There was a fireplace unlike any I had ever seen. It was large enough for me to walk around in. Inside was a large metal stove of sorts. Pots and pans hung from racks. A sink in front of the window had a small pump, like I had seen in movies. I pumped the handle. Nothing happened. In the middle of the room a small wooden table sat with four chairs around it. A door led to the backyard. I did not open it. On the other side of the room was another door. I opened it and walked through it.

  I pulled the drapes open. A large table with many chairs took up most of the space. Another door led back to the foyer. I wanted to go upstairs. I opened the door and peeked into the foyer. Jonah stood alone, looking at the pile of things we had brought with us. I walked toward him, hoping to slip behind him unnoticed.

  “Where’ve you been?” he said without turning.

  I stopped. Jonah turned to face me, his eyes curious.

  “I was looking around. Where is everyone else?” I asked, keeping my voice low in case others were nearby. I didn’t know why I wanted to do this on my own, I just knew I did.

  “Nonie, Pops, and Sara are in there,” he said, pointing to the sitting room of sorts. “Everyone else went back to the van to get more things.”

  “Why didn’t you go?” I asked.

  “Dad wanted me to stay here and keep an eye on things,” he said.

  My gaze moved to his hip, where he wore his father’s pistol. “Are we going to always be on alert?” I asked, wishing this house would bring us safety.

  “No, I don’t think so. But for now we are,” he said. “What have you discovered so far?”

  “There are a ton of books in what must have been a library, and in the kitchen there’s a fireplace big enough for me to walk around in,” I said.

  “Books?” he asked, sounding excited.

  I nodded. “An entire roomful.” I wondered if Jonah liked to read. There hadn’t been time in the last week, but as life became more settled, a little easier, maybe there would be time to read.

  He looked toward the library.

  “What about the upstairs? What’s up there?” he asked, his eyes moving to the staircase behind me.

  “I’m going up now to see. You can come if you’d like,” I said.

  “Do you want me to?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  “Yes,” I said, careful not to make eye contact.

  “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs.

  I climbed the stairs slowly, testing each one with a little weight before placing my full weight on it.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, when we reached the top.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” he said, stepping in front of me.

  “That’s not very comforting,” I said, following behind him, taking each step with caution.

  “I do honesty better than I do comforting,” he said as he gently placed one foot after the other.

  “That’s not so good if you’re going to be a priest,” I said, becoming more comfortable every time I put my foot down. The floor was solid; it barely even creaked.

  “I disagree. Honesty is always better than a lie, even if the lie creates short-term comfort,” he said, turning a doorknob and pushing the door open. There were four more closed doors off the landing.

  We walked into the room. Beams of sunlight shone through the drawn, threadbare drapes, and illuminated the small room. A fireplace filled one wall and a piece of furniture spanned the other. I walked to the wall opposite the door and pulled open the drapes. The fabric disintegrated in my hands.

  “These drapes must have been made from a more delicate fabric than the ones in the sitting room downstairs,” he said, walking over and looking up at the fabric that remained hanging.

  “The library and dining room also have solid drapes,” I said, releasing the fibers of fabric from my hand. They floated gracefully to the floor, disappearing into the dust.

  “Oh, I see,” Jonah said, pulling a sheet from a piece of furniture. “It’s a crib. This must have been a nursery. Perhaps your great-great-grandparents used some sort of fancier fabric for these drapes.”

  My heart stopped. The thought of a baby sleeping here brought up so many emotions, none of them good.

  “Are you alright?” Jonah asked, seeing the expression on my face.

  “Cribs make me uncomfortable,” I said before I realized what I was saying.

  “Because of your baby brother?” His voice sounded sympathetic. He placed his hand on the side of the crib, his thumb rubbing the smooth wood.

  “Yes,” I said, walking out to the landing.

  I disagreed with Jonah. I did not think honesty was always better than a lie.

  I pushed the pain down and entered the next room. I drew back the drapes and these did not crumble in my hands. There was a fireplace and a queen-size bed, and a dust-covered rug that took up half the floor. Jonah followed me, but
said nothing.

  He pulled the drapes open in the next room. This room was larger, with a four-poster bed with bits of fabric hanging from each post, the remnants of a canopy. I found a small writing desk with a bench seat and a dresser, all covered with sheets that created clouds of dust when I pulled them off. The wood beneath the sheets was a beautiful cherry. The furniture was so small and fragile appearing, I was afraid to touch it.

  The fourth room was similar to the second room, with a fireplace and a queen-size bed, but it did not have a rug. The final room was a bathroom with a large claw-foot tub and toilet of sorts.

  “I’ve never seen a toilet like that,” Jonah said as he stood behind me and peered into the room. It had a large box mounted on the wall high above it, with a cord hanging from it.

  “Do you think there was running water?” I asked. “I saw a pump thing in the kitchen.”

  “I don’t know. Pops and Nonie will know.”

  “I hope so. It would be really nice not to have to bring water in with buckets,” I said.

  He backed out of the room. “That would be nice,” he said with a hint of exhaustion. He had carried more buckets into the house than any of us.

  We went down the stairs side by side. I liked having him near me and sometimes, like now, I thought he liked being near me too.

  “The house seems solid. Aside from the inches of dirt and dust, it seems in really good shape,” he said as we stepped onto the main floor.

  I nodded. “I feel good here. I don’t know why, but I do.”

  “Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe we will actually have peace here,” he said.

  “You know I don’t believe in signs,” I said, looking up at him.

  “Yes, but I do.” He gazed down at me, his green eyes making my heart race.

  Sixteen

  The day passed as we took load after load into the house. My body ached. My head spun. I hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since yesterday. The sun was setting as we hooked Talin and Fulton to the empty van and pulled it up the hill. From time to time the men had to help push, but for the most part Talin and Fulton were able to pull the vehicle up the incline. Wrath’s body was still in the blood-soaked blanket on top of the van. I glanced at it from time to time and quickly pulled my gaze away. The thought of Wrath brought the thought of Mick and the fear that he would come for us. That he would do to us as we did to Wrath, though his actions would not be out of self-defense but out of revenge.