Aberrate

by Wendi Wilson

  Silas’s question throws me for a loop as he pulls our rental car out of the airport parking lot. I’ve been so absorbed in my own problems that it hadn’t even occurred to me that I could visit Grace. I load more guilt on top of the mound I’m already buried under. God, I suck.

  I open my mouth to reply in the affirmative, then snap it shut again. My shoulders droop as I realize I can’t go see my little sister.

  “We can’t,” I say, turning in my seat so I can see Silas, as well as Slade, who’s in the back seat by himself. “If we show up unannounced, Savanna’s parents will have a ton of questions. Why am I back so soon? Why didn’t Savanna come with me? Why are we only staying one night, instead of all weekend? No. It’s better if they don’t know I’m here. We have plans to come home for Thanksgiving. That’ll be soon enough.”

  “Are you sure it’s not because you’ll have to explain us?” Slade asks, a twinkle in his eye.

  I laugh. “Are you kidding me? You know Savanna told them straight to their faces that she was in love with three guys within a few weeks of meeting them, right? They’d probably be relieved I only have two.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. The boys laugh, none the wiser, as the Davila twins pop into my head once again. I shake my head to clear it and focus on the landscape whizzing by as we drive toward Brother Earl’s old office.

  I have no idea what we’ll find once we get there. The Patton triplets inherited the house as his only surviving relative, but the business was another matter. Earl had left very clear instructions with his attorney that if anything ever happened to him, the lab would go to the Divine Church of Purity. The members of the board of trustees would determine what would become of the business, the building and the surrounding property.

  When we left town, it was still closed in deference to the memory of their revered leader. Ugh, gag me. That man was a lunatic and didn’t deserve one ounce of the respect and devotion the Purists give him. I’m so glad I came to my senses and got out when I did.

  I navigate, since I’m the only one familiar with the area and it’s easier than trying to use the unfamiliar car’s GPS system. Soon, we’re pulling into the parking lot of the lab. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to calm the pounding beat of my heart.

  It’s been months since I was here last. The place hasn’t changed much, other than the groupings of cards and flowers piled up on either side of the entrance. It looks like dozens of mourners have come to pay their respects and leave tokens of remembrance for Brother Earl. I wonder if they knew the man they worshipped wanted to kill hundreds of kids.

  I notice a few cars in the parking lot, which surprises me. The lab is open. I honestly expected it to still be closed, that we’d have to break in to steal the lockboxes that contain the syringes. I never thought we’d have to actually speak to someone.

  Someone who may know me from my previous life.

  “Maybe I should go in alone,” I suggest as we climb from the car.

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “No way.”

  Silas and Slade speak at the same time, dismissing my suggestion without a thought.

  “Okay,” I say, planting my hands on my hips as they lean next to each other against the hood of the car. “Why don’t you two tell me how I’m supposed to explain to whoever is running this place that I, Lizzie Williams, right hand man to Brother Earl himself, am showing up weeks after his death to claim my rightful place with two Alts by my side?”

  “We can persuade them to forget they saw us,” Slade suggests.

  I arch a brow, pressing my lips together as I stare him down, waiting for him to connect the dots.

  “Oh, right,” he says, his shoulders drooping. “They’re all immune to persuasion, like you.”

  “Right,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We can wear sunglasses,” Silas says.

  “Inside? On a day so overcast, you don’t even need them outside? That’s not suspicious at all,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Listen,” I plead, moving forward to slip my hands into each of theirs, “I’ll be fine on my own. I promise, I can handle this.”

  “We know you can, Lizzie, but—”

  “No buts,” I say, cutting Silas off. “This is the only way this will work.” I pause for a moment to make eye contact with each of them. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep my phone in my hand at all times and promise to dial one of you at the first hint of trouble, okay? You can rush in and save me if I need saving.”

  My promise seems to pacify them, though they don’t actually say anything. Taking the slight relaxation in their stances and the lessening of their frowns as a tacit agreement, I squeeze the hands still held in mine and smile before pulling my phone from my pocket and jiggling it in the air. They don’t voice any further arguments, so I head inside.

  A strong sense of déjà vu hits me as I push through the front door and let it swing shut behind me. I can’t help but remember that fateful day I brought Brother Earl the footage I’d filmed of Savanna persuading two humans, at once, without making eye contact.

  “How did she do that, sir? I mean, as far as I know, Alts can only persuade one person at a time and they have to have eye contact.”

  “That is true,” he’d said, the sparkle of pride gleaming in his eyes, “of a regular Alt. Savanna is special. I gave her mother injections when Savanna was in utero, then gave them directly to Savanna when she was a baby and again when she was a toddler.”

  “And her parents just let you do that?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Well, they didn’t know, of course. Her mother thought I’d found the cure and when Savanna was born, she looked completely human. She didn’t need blood to survive and she could not compel a human. We later discovered that she, and only she, could compel other Alts.”

  “But, Alec and Paul…”

  “Are human, of course. The injection I gave her few days ago enhanced her power. Now, she can persuade everyone… except those of us who are immune, of course. She doesn’t need eye contact and anyone within the reach of her voice would be affected. She’s the perfect weapon.”

  Then he told me he wanted me to be his protégé and led me from his office and into the lab. He programmed the lockboxes that protected Savanna’s blood to open with my fingerprints before returning them to their refrigerated storage units.

  I shake off the memory as I catch the eye of the receptionist behind the counter. Holding her gaze while trying to adopt an air of superiority, I march toward her with purpose. I can see in my peripheral that other than us, the room is empty.

  “Lizzie,” she breathes, “finally.”

  I crook an eyebrow at her in answer. I recognize her from the church, but I can’t remember her name.

  “We’ve been waiting weeks for you to come back or contact us,” she says just before a buzzing sound reaches my ears and the door to her right opens with an audible click.

  Hiding my surprise, I step forward and push my way through, saying, “Thank you, uh…”

  “Rosemary. Rosemary Bishop.”

  She holds out a hand and I grasp it, giving it a firm pump. She turns on a heel, speaking over her shoulder as she walks away, toward the lab in the back.

  “Brother Earl’s untimely death was a shock to us all.” She stops, turning toward me with a sad look on her face. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” I respond, attempting to hide my bewilderment.

  “Anyway,” she continues, picking her stride back up, “Brother O’Connor has taken over the Sunday sermon in your absence, but we haven’t had any access to the elixir. None of our new members have been granted God’s immunity.”

  I stumble at her words, but quickly regain my balance. Jimmy O’Connor knows the truth. He knows I turned against Brother Earl and church because he was there the night we rescued Savanna’s parents. I used his attraction to me to distract and disarm him so the Alts could get inside the safe house. />
  Obviously, he and the other guards present that night never told anyone what happened. Brother Earl must have ordered them to hold their tongues. That is the only reason Jimmy wouldn’t have disparaged me and my character to all who would listen.

  My parents must be hiding the truth, as well. I don’t know how they’re explaining Grace’s absence from their lives, but they must be telling everyone I’ve gone away to college. Or that I’ve been taking a sabbatical to grieve the loss of our esteemed leader.

  Of course, I never expected them to tell anyone. Having their eldest daughter be the heir to the throne raised their level of importance within the Purist community exponentially. They’ve probably been treated like royalty. No way would they give that up by telling the truth…that their daughter is a liar and a traitor.

  “Everything is just the way he left it,” Rosemary says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I look around and realize she’s right. The lab looks exactly as it did the last time I was here—everything in its place with the metal gleaming pristinely under the fluorescent lights.

  “Has the lab been open for business?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” Rosemary asks, pausing mid-step to look over her shoulder.

  “With Brother Earl gone and the church having no access to the elixir, what exactly has been going on here from day to day?”

  She turns to face me fully. “We’ve kept the place open and members of the congregation come by to pose as customers.”

  She says the last word while using air quotes, and I can’t hide my confusion. Seeing it written all over my face, Rosemary is quick to explain.

  “We knew you’d come back, eventually. We wanted to make sure the lab was open and accessible to you. So we’ve all worked together, just like when Brother Earl was alive, God rest his soul.”

  “Who pays the bills?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

  “Brother Jimmy does,” she says. “Every member of our congregation tithes weekly, and the money covers the rent and utilities. Brother Jimmy collects and disburses the money, making sure the lab and the church are well taken care of in anticipation of your return.”

  The devotion in her eyes is making me uncomfortable. I remember looking at Brother Earl that same way. With unshakable confidence and admiration. My stomach starts to churn, and I shake off the memories before I puke coffee all over Rosemary’s shoes.

  “Thank you for your help, Sister Rosemary. I’ve got it from here,” I say, dismissing her.

  Her expression twists from eager lapdog to crestfallen in a split second, so I reach out and grasp her shoulder.

  “You’ve done a fabulous job in my absence. I don’t know what would’ve become of this place without you.”

  At my words, her face brightens once more.

  “Thank you, Sister Lizzie.”

  I nod and say, “I’d just like a few moments alone to re-familiarize myself with the place. And to remember Brother Earl, here, in his most glorious moments.”

  That last bit gets her—I can see the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes—and she nods, backing out of the room. Grunting, I walk to the door, turning the deadbolt lock and jiggling the door to make sure it’s secure.

  A breath of relief huffs out of me. Finally alone. I turn and survey the area, my eyes zoning in on the refrigerated cases. That’s where Brother Earl kept the lockboxes, so I rush over and yank one of the doors open.

  A cold blast of air hits me in the face. Shivering, I reach in and grab the lockbox by the handle. I swing the case door closed and turn toward the nearest table. I set the box gently on the surface and, holding my breath, press my thumb against the glass screen on the front.

  The screen flares to life, flashing green as I hear a loud clicking sound. I can’t believe it. I mean, I know we were counting on it, that the safety of those I care for depends on it, but I can’t believe it.

  Brother Earl never removed my fingerprint access.

  I lift the lid with a shake of my head and stare at the contents. I pick up a syringe and hold it up to the light. Its dark contents don’t move. Frozen solid.

  I guess it makes sense. With me MIA and having no idea when I’d be back to unlock the boxes, the Purists would need a way to make sure the blood didn’t degrade and become unusable. Freezing the lockboxes was their best option to prolong its shelf-life.

  I carefully place the syringe back into the lockbox and snap the lid shut. Pressing my thumb against the screen the light flashes green, then red and I hear the telltale click of the locking mechanism. Leaving it on the counter, I walk back to the freezer case and pull out a second lockbox.

  After confirming my fingerprint works to open it, as well, I search the other cases in the room and find two more lockboxes. Stacking them on the counter, I stare at them until my eyes glaze over.

  Forty-eight syringes of blood. It seems like a lot, but at the same time, it’s only a drop in the bucket. The Purist church has new members joining every day. New people to immunize. Forty-eight doses wouldn’t last very long.

  Then, it hits me. Most people don’t get the shot. Most people get their immunity on during Sunday services, drinking liquid from a cup described as, “Blood of the Savior.”

  Savanna is that savior.

  I shake my head and move quickly, searching each freezer case again. Coming up empty, I walk back to where I stacked the lockboxes. Forty-eight syringes. That’s all that’s here. Either the communion blood has been all used up, or Brother Earl, knowing he would get more at Savanna’s next appointment, only kept enough on hand for each week’s disbursement.

  Either way, there’s no more here.

  I find a thick canvas bag on one of the shelves and shove the boxes into it before slinging the strap over my shoulder. It’s heavy, but I try to keep my shoulders even. Hopefully, as new commander-in-chief of this stupid cult, no one will question why I have it or what it contains. I know Rosemary won’t. She would probably cut out her own tongue before she questioned me on anything.

  Ugh. These people are certifiable.

  I push through the doors, angling for the exit before my feet come to a grinding halt. I almost forget to breathe, then breathe too much as I start to hyperventilate.

  “Hello, Lizzie. It’s so good to see you,” my mom gushes as she darts forward, wrapping me in a warm hug.

  At least, it’s supposed to look like it’s warm. Instead, it’s cold and stiff and doesn’t feel like it’s coming from the one person who’s supposed to love me, no matter what. It feels contrived, no emotion behind it at all, and that hurts more than I’d like to admit.

  She releases me and steps to the side, making room for my father to step in and pull me into an embrace. His motions are even more robotic. His warm breath ruffling my hair is the only bit of it that feels familiar.

  My parents are strangers. Aliens have snatched their bodies and reside within, pretending to be Shaun and Jesse Williams. Living their lives. Fooling all those around them.

  “I’ve missed you, baby girl,” the stranger says in my father’s deep voice.

  That voice shakes me from my stupor. These are my parents, not some science-fiction body snatchers. They are brainwashed, devoted servants of God, enacting a plan that He would never condone, but they just can’t see it.

  Brother Earl, even after death, still has them caught in his web of deceit and treachery.

  “Mother,” I say, then glance at my dad. “Father.”

  “Let’s go home,” Mom says, placing a palm on my back and applying pressure in an attempt to lead me toward the door.

  I glance to my left and see Rosemary at her desk, her eyes glassy with emotion as she observes our seemingly loving reunion. My parents have her fooled. They probably have everyone fooled.

  “Let me take your bag,” Dad says, his fingers hooking under the canvas strap.

  His action snaps me back to the present and I narrow my eyes. They are trying to herd me out of here, away from prying eyes. They do
n’t want anyone within the church to find out we’re not as close as they’ve been pretending we are.

  I jerk back, just enough for Dad to take a hint but not enough for Rosemary to notice. His lips lose color for a brief moment as he presses them together in anger before turning up into a smile, his white teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights. He holds out an arm, directing me toward the exit.

  I nod and walk toward the door, but only because I was going that way, anyway. Once outside and away from prying eyes, they whirl on me, all pretense of a loving family disappearing in a single heartbeat.

  “What are you doing here, Lizzie?” Mom demands, running a hand through her blonde hair and twisting it up into a bun at her nape.

  “And what’s in the bag?” Dad adds, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, like he means to take it from me.

  “What I’m doing here is none of your concern, Jesse,” I say, stressing her first name in a disrespectful way.

  I do it intentionally, hoping her chagrin at my disrespect will distract her enough to give me time. Time to come up with a plan to get away from them with the bag of lockboxes.

  “And I can carry my own bag, Shaun,” I say, spitting my father’s name with all the venom I can muster.

  It’s not hard. I’m angry. These two people are supposed to love me, unconditionally. No matter what. Even if I betray their cult leader to the very people he hates and plans to kill off in a massive, genocidal round-up.

  “Everything okay over here?”

  My knees turn to jelly at the sound of that voice. The cavalry has arrived. Though I think I can handle my parents on my own, I’m relieved to not have to. I don’t want to fight with them. I don’t want to talk to them at all.

  I just want to get out of here.

  Silas strides up and, before the echo of his words dies away, has his arm around my back. Slade appears at my other side, his fingers tangling with mine. I smile, unable to control it, at their blatant show of solidarity.

  I catch my dad’s reaction, his gaze flitting from one boy’s eyes to the other, his mouth dropping open as he realizes they’re Alts and that we’re together. His teeth clack together as he snaps his mouth shut and he shakes his head, disappointment oozing off of him in waves.