by Erin Lorence
Yep. Stone was a good person. Despite following the wrong leader.
I stepped closer. “I need your help.”
He closed his eyes as if my words hurt. Then they opened, and the mask was back. “Dove, I can’t let you go free.”
I waved this away. “No, no. I need your help on something more important. You’ve got to help free the missing Christians.”
His fingers tightened. “What?”
I shifted under their bruising force. “There’s a cement building at the edge of the village—a big one, real ugly...with square windows. I need you to ask God about going there, and if He says you’re allowed, then you get inside. Locate our people. And free them.”
“But, how did you know—”
“Oh, and there might be others with guns near it. But you can find a way around them. It’ll be easy for you.” Yes, this was the reason God had shut me and Trinity down last night. Because Stone was on his way to me. He alone had the strength and slipperiness to be successful.
Silence descended. The cracker gnawing behind me had quit. Trinity’s frown burned into my back, probably because the last time she’d met Stone, he’d acted as our enemy. She didn’t understand he wasn’t. He was good.
Stone’s beard swayed. “Sorry, Dove. Really. And now that you know about that building...I really can’t let you go. You’ll stay with me, both of you will...until—”
“Release my sister.”
Gilead glowered from the top of the earth mound. His leap down dislodged the giant’s grip from my shoulder.
I picked myself up and ran to stand with Trinity.
“Is this the other boyfriend, Dove? The bigger one that the Jezebel kid hit with a slug?” He circled Stone. The tendons and muscles stood out in his hands and neck. “Continue speaking, loser. What were you saying about making my sister stay with you? And my cousin?”
The giant’s feet mirrored my brother’s in reverse. His sun-bleached eyebrows furrowed low in concentration. But even though he loomed over my brother, I didn’t bite my lip for my sibling. The Strong fierceness gave Gilead the upper hand...like a third fist in a fistfight.
Gilead made a swift kick to the back of his opponent’s knee.
Stone sidestepped in a blur. “I...I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t like to hurt anybody.”
My brother hummed something that could’ve been a laugh. “Perfect. Because I do.”
His fist flew out. The larger figure ducked and countered with a lightening punch to my brother’s chin. It grazed the blonde hairs there, but the following punch met air.
Their feet sidestepped faster now. Feinted and fell back.
Gilead lunged at Stone and caught his wider shoulders. The two became clenched in a wild, rib-cracking hug. My brother’s commands escaped his clenched teeth.
“Trinity. Dove. And you...whoever you people are. I’m on patrol...security for the Council. I’m here to relocate you to your new campsites...near Camp Sherman.”
He rolled out of a neck hold and threw the giant off. “Start walking south. I’ll catch up in a few minutes. When I finish.”
My spine pressed up harder against the mound of crumbling dirt. Trinity stayed rooted with her nose wrinkled. The moles chewed their crackers like cows do cud, their unblinking eyes fastened on the fighters as though unable to understand such violence after a sheltered lifetime of peace underground.
“Excuse me, security sir? I find a brisk smack to the cerebellum is an effective stunning technique for most creatures. May I assist?” The fatherly looking figure accepted the branch from the woman and darted a quick step forward. “My family is eager to reach that campsite you’ve offered.”
The woman’s elbow nudged my side. “The knife. If you’re not going to use it...” She held out her palm.
Gilead rocketed two feet through sunlit air and landed in a sticker bush. Stone whirled around, his cheeks and ears flushed crimson. “You’re trying to make me...but I won’t hurt you.”
He hurdled some bushes. There were a couple muffled footsteps, then silence.
My brother stirred and rubbed his scalp. He leaped to his feet and moved to race after, but the branch-holder placed one grungy palm on his heaving shoulder.
“Ah well, security sir. You can’t beat every giant every time. Now, about that campsite. You say we follow you, yes? We are grateful you located us during your patrol.”
“Yes...sir.”
My brother’s bearded jaw stayed clenched while he led us at a jogging pace through the foothills. My brain churned, moving faster than my legs.
Stone was here, near the village. He knew about the building. Did he know if anyone lived inside—or possibly about a future hostage situation?
Gilead spoke only when Black Butte was a hump on the horizon. “That guy didn’t beat me. He ran away. Afraid. You’re my witness, Dove.”
“Sure. He ran away...” To keep from hurting us. I swallowed the last bit. Because if I didn’t argue, maybe he’d be ready to hear the important information I’d kept bottled inside the last couple hours. “Hey, Gil, listen. Once we deliver this family to their campsite, you and I need to hurry back. There’s a cement building near the village on Black Butte. I’m pretty sure Mom is being held there.”
His fist jabbed at an invisible opponent, reliving his fight with Stone. I thumped his shoulder. “Gil—listen to me. Mom and Grandpa—”
“Are in California. That’s what Commander Reed last reported. They’re being held near a town called—”
“Trinidad. But they’re not there. He’s lying.”
My sibling knew about Reed Bender. He’d called him Commander and believed his lies. But he hadn’t recognized Stone Bender by sight. I pressed my lips together. I’d be wasting breath to mention that Stone might be in the area to take part in a plan to capture government people. Gilead didn’t care about helping nonbelievers. Or about keeping peace.
In front of me, Trinity stumbled under Gilead’s sudden glare. “What? Spit it out, Cousin.”
“Fine. What would Gran say? You dressed like that?”
Her cheeks flooded.
The straggling footsteps of the mole family quickened until the woman’s hand-stitched shoe caught my heel.
“Ignore him, Trinity. He’s just in a rotten mood because he lost his fight. Just like he lost his shadow.”
“I did not.” My brother marched ahead. “And my shadow—I mean Micah—is safe at camp.”
Trinity hugged her pack. But she didn’t comment as we continued to hike.
When the blazing sun hovered above the treetops, another bearded figure appeared ahead in the crook of a tree. No doubt he was a tree-dwelling Christian since he appeared so at home in the branches. A bird, Rebecca would call him. Like me.
Gilead lifted his arm. “To God’s glory.”
The tree dweller raised his gray sleeve that matched my brother’s. “God’s glory forever.”
The figure stayed seated while his half-mast eyes followed our trek until we dropped over a crumbling, natural ridge edged with disintegrating ferns. I hurried around a mound of car-sized boulders.
I cleared the last rock and blinked. Christians everywhere. Christians, who had lost their minds. Was this the same camp at Camp Sherman that Brooke and Hunter had described a few days ago? Impossible. Yet it had to be. The unmistakable rush of the Metolius River sounded from close by.
A dozen campfires burned openly even though the chill of night was hours away. Torches pricked among a sea of tents. The homemade shelters crowded together like the buildings of Portland, leaving no room to walk between.
A mammoth, tent-free, clearing of trampled bracken stretched to the west, and people in earth-tone clothes stood in a line among the tree stumps. Their arms supported long-barreled weapons.
“Ready!”
Each body in line dropped to one knee.
“Aim. Fire!”
I flinched, but no gunfire sounded. There was only a murmur of human voices imitating the sh
ots, not wasting whatever precious bullets they had on practice. But they had guns...so no doubt they possessed bullets, too.
“Wait here, girls,” Gilead said, “while I show this family an open campsite. Then I’ll take you to our tent.”
Trinity moved after him. “No, Gil. I’ll come with you and...poke around a bit.”
“Shalom, Dove Strong. May God bless you.”
My hand, which had begun to shake, twitched up in farewell at the mole family. Anger coursed through me, blurring the scene before me. Yet I saw it too clearly.
These believers practiced for battle, but they’d been invited here to pray and comfort each other over their losses.
I walked to the clearing. In the far corner near a group of torches, children practiced slinging. Their targets were rough-hewn wood, human-shaped cutouts.
I veered toward a cluster of these but stopped short at someone’s shout.
More voices called from the trees further along, past the city of tents. A hollow echo rang out—wood clunked together, the sounds of Christians grappling.
I swirled back around. A sign with an arrow poked up from the ground a stone’s throw away. It pointed toward a section of forest.
Explosive Testing Area. Stay Away.
Explosives? Bombs? No. These people—my people—could not be creating bombs that ripped humans apart.
I gripped my hair and dropped to my knees.
“Hey, look. It’s that Heathen-lover from the Council.”
I raised my pounding head. City rats. Their dark clothes were as machine-made as my own. Rubber-soled shoes encased their feet.
“She doesn’t love Heathen. Not anymore. She’s on our side now. I heard her on the radio. Called them Satan’s puppets.”
Another city rat with a beard clipped short like Lobo used to wear rounded the side of a tent. “It’s Dove. You know, from Texas. Her head is on a big sign down the road that way. You’re Dove, aren’t you?”
He strode over and presented me with a pointed stick. “Yours now. To mount the heads of those Heathen who tortured you in the desert.”
My trembling fingers closed around the weapon’s shaft. I licked my lips. Stood. And strode to the tallest stump in the clearing where a target balanced.
I whirled around and knocked the object to the ground. Ignoring the shouts directed at me, I climbed to balance on the axe-hewn stump. I glared around at the humans and met the eyes of those who’d paused.
“Have you all gone crazy?” I swung my outstretched stick and made contact with the nearest target. Crack. Wood splintered.
“Your hate makes me sick!” I stamped my foot and jabbed at the only other target within reach. “Sick! People we love are gone, but instead of doing something useful like praying about it, you waste your time preparing for pointless murders and following the path that Satan wants. Come on—all of you! Quit being fools!”
I leaped down and charged the warning sign for explosive testing. As I raised my spear to bash its center, my weapon slid out of my grip. An arm came across my torso and lifted me.
“Shut up and cool it, Dove,” Gilead said in my ear. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself.”
My legs wind milled. “If I do, then there won’t be anybody to tell these ignorants they’re sinning.” I raised my voice. “Anyone who wants to actually help our families, follow me—”
“Ignore her,” Gilead said to the believers who appeared at tent openings and doorways of branch-made shelters we passed. “Ignore her.”
He stopped at the mouth of a low tent speckled with mold. “You want to pray? Fine. Do it in here, the designated spot for praying.” He released me into its gloomy depths.
Whump. My backpack landed beside me. His face appeared. “Do not move from this place until I come for you.”
I shifted off the lumpy remains of a tree root and massaged a bruised kneecap. My nose cringed in the strong atmosphere of mildew and old canvas.
“Oh, it’s you.”
I jerked around and squinted. Chaff slumped on his knees in a corner.
“It’s you! Chaff! What are you doing here? Rebecca said you were heading home and that you told her you’d never leave your property again.”
“Obviously, that was before I got home and found my sister gone. Taken. No doubt caught while wandering the beach. She’s always taking risks like that. Being conspicuous. I wasn’t there to keep her hidden.”
My hot anger melted away, replaced by a chilly heaviness. More loss. I curled up cross-legged next to him. “That...stinks. Poor kid didn’t know better.”
“My sister’s thirty-seven.”
“Oh.”
He clambered off his shins and began to rock back and forth. “I came for the prayer rally. But it’s a joke. I don’t think it’s going to happen. All anyone here wants to do is sword fight and pretend to shoot. Dumb stuff I could do at home if I wanted to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t want to.”
I nodded. Chaff twirling around with a sword? Nope.
“And my sister’s not being held in Trinidad, so don’t believe what you hear.”
“I know.”
“Well you used to think so. And that’s what everyone here thinks—the taken are being held down south. It’s stupid. Why would I ride a train all the way north if my sister was in California? How about a little common sense?”
“According to my brother, they all listen to and believe Reed Bender. And he lies. A lot.”
“And his right-hand man, Zech.” Chaff rocked faster. “That liar’s creepier than a hobo spider nest.”
Spiders weren’t creepy. I shrugged. “The taken Christians are prisoners near Black Butte. In a building, next to a village there. I’m pretty sure.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised.”
He believed me. Some of my heaviness lifted. “Stone Bender said something suspicious to me about the building this morning, so I think he and Reed know.”
His neck bobbed. “Again. Not surprised.”
“I couldn’t get there yesterday to free our people. Or help them. I tried.”
He shook his head. “Too rash. Did you consider their guards would’ve caught you if you’d made it there? No, I didn’t think you did.”
“You’re wrong, I did think of that. And I was careful a few days ago when I explored the village. Reed’s message I wore around my wrist in Portland—the one you helped deliver—said Christians would be taking nonbelievers as hostages there. But I can’t figure out when that will happen, or if it will ever happen. Did Zech tell you Reed’s plans?”
Chaff shook his head. “I didn’t bother to ask. Why worry about what might happen to Heathen? I’ll save my energy, thanks. We’ve got our own problems to worry about.”
Silence fell.
“I helped save you, Dove. At the ocean. In California.”
“Uh. OK.”
There wasn’t a lot to say after that. While he rocked and wrung his hands, I slid onto my knees.
Fix these stupid people, God. And give me back my mom.
I tried to articulate more, but a baby somewhere began to cry. Rocks thunked targets. Gruff voices corrected trajectories and traded root-based soup recipes. Kids whined.
“Shalom, Chaff.”
I opened my eyes.
Trinity crouched at the tent opening. “Ready to go, Dove?”
I scrambled up. “Yeah...what’s wrong with your face? Your eyes are red. Did you fall into some poison oak?”
She lifted them to the ceiling that was speckled like a sparrow’s egg. “I saw Micah. He saw me. He turned and ran away. The end. Let’s get out of here.”
I stabbed a small twig into the dirt, imagining a blue-tinged lizard. “Forget about that skink boy, Trinity. Chaff, tell my brother that I left.”
“He’ll probably notice without my help.”
I tucked my blonde strands into my cap, ducked my chin, and darted out from under the rotting canvas. I kept my eyes on Trinity’s feet, following
them past some boulders. Up a slope.
“Shalom,” she muttered. A good-bye to the guard in the tree?
We entered untouched forest, and the camp noises faded. I unhunched, drawing the pine air into my lungs. The way ahead appeared to be mostly downhill. I plunged forward, letting my body’s momentum carry me along. Glimpses of pavement appeared between the branches ahead of us.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
My feet wouldn’t slow. I stumbled onto the road and into the glow of headlights.
The car didn’t hit me since it was parked. People stood near it—familiar people.
Savannah glanced at Lobo then sashayed forward. “Hello, Dove. Jessica mentioned you were back in town. Oh, and I caught your radio broadcast...calling us evil puppets, responsible for all the horrible goings-on in the world. Brilliant stuff.”
She pointed at the parked car whose sleek curves glistened like water in a creek. “Get in.”
38
Jessica leaned through the car’s open doorway. Her camera lens glinted in the deepening gloom.
Trinity stepped around me. “Who are you?”
Lobo quit stroking the scruff on his chin and strode forward with one hand out. “Valentino Vargas. Lobo for short. You are terrorista Dove’s sister? Or another cousin? May I?” He raised a bulkier electronic lens than Jessica’s and directed it at Trinity.
The bushes behind us rustled as if something shifted among its dry branches.
Savannah inhaled. She strode toward the vehicle. “Yes, yes. We’ll continue this fascinating conversation inside the CTDC. Dove, in the back. Try not to get dirt on the upholstery. Your cousin can—”
Grrrr…I spun to face the predatory growling. The high brambles at the road shook as though a three-hundred-pound beast ripped at them, clawing its way through.
Grrrr...
Savannah’s high heels skittered over the remaining pavement to the vehicle’s door. She dove in behind the steering wheel. “Lobo! What are you doing? It’ll be a grizzly.”