Sent Rising (Dove Strong)

by Erin Lorence

  The cameraman drifted toward the bushes that continued to grunt. A confused expression replaced his smirk. “A black bear maybe. But no grizzlies here. Not for a hundred years.”

  He parted the trembling foliage and stuck his head inside.

  Then he shouted—a gurgling burst of sound. His legs churned, and he disappeared headfirst inside the bush, as if something stronger pulled him in.

  Savannah and Jessica began to scream. Car doors slammed. The engine hummed and faded into the distance.

  The bear’s grunting stopped. Lobo quit yelling.

  Trinity raised a slow finger at the now motionless foliage next to the road where Lobo had vanished. “That bear sounded...different.”

  Lobo’s laughter shook the brambles. He stood. An even slighter figure rose up beside him.

  “Micah.” Trinity lost her grin.

  “Trinity.” Micah appeared just as miserable.

  I moved in front of my cousin. “Savannah left. You missed your ride, Lobo, and stayed behind with us. Why?”

  He picked his way onto the asphalt, smile lines etched around his eyes. “Curiosity, Dove. Where did you come from in the middle of nowhere? Not a drop of sweat on you, which means you traveled from a location close by. And why does someone else pretend to be a grizzly in the bushes? I think you might share those answers with me better if we get rid of the person who threatens you with the CTDC. Am I right?”

  “You thought wrong.” I turned my glare onto my neighbor. “Your black bear impression needs work. Why did you follow us, Micah?”

  “You left camp too soon.”

  “Too soon?” But he wasn’t speaking to me. He spoke around me, to my cousin.

  His arm swung up. A skimpy bouquet of limp flowers dangled from his fist. “I saw that you lost the roses from your pack, the ones I gave you last month. So here. I brought you these. They’re better than the last ones. They’ll make your pack smell nicer.”

  “Why?” Trinity asked. “Why would I want more roses from you?”

  He rocked back on his heels. His Brae eyes widened. Afraid.

  I crossed my arms. Now he'd bolt back to my brother.

  His chin came up and his scrawny chest puffed out like a proud robin’s. “You should take them because I like you, Trinity. Each time I saw a wild strawberry plant growing, or some bright leaf or flower, I hoped you’d end up coming to the Council too.”

  Her colorful arm lifted and accepted the dead roses.

  Lobo hustled me a few yards down the white painted line.

  I shook him off. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving them privacy.”

  “Privacy? What for?”

  “Because when two people love each other, privacy is necessary.”

  “Ridiculous.” I turned. They were hugging. My nose wrinkled.

  “Also, we need to talk.”

  “You got your answer. Micah was a bear to stop my cousin from getting in Savannah’s car because he had to give her roses.” Roses! Now I understood her obsession with that flower talk in Portland.

  “And your location in the woods where Micah came from also?”

  I recrossed my arms.

  “I see.” He balanced his camera on his shoes and pulled a smaller electronic from his pocket.

  “What are you doing, Lobo?”

  He held up the small rectangle. “This? It’s to call Savannah for a ride. For both of us.”

  My arms uncrossed and dangled. “Fine. I’ll go to that Louisiana swamp with you and Jessica if you leave me alone. No detention center. Please.”

  “We fly south in two days.”

  “Five days?”

  “Three. And you explain what’s located in that patch of trees.” He repocketed his electronic.

  Kaboom.

  A flock of startled sparrows rose from their evening roosts in the treetops.

  Micah released my cousin. “Uh-oh. I better get back to camp since I’m the weapon detonation expert. Sounds like someone started testing without me.”

  “You’re the expert?” Trinity wound her fingers through his as if she would return with him.

  “Yep. Because I’ve got the most experience. I’ve been blowing up things all my life. Tunnels...underground rooms...they don’t create themselves. A homemade device can save you a week’s digging, if you know how to use it. And I do.” He swaggered for the bushes with a beaming Trinity in tow.

  Lobo’s teeth gleamed. “Homemade explosive devices, huh? Final deal, Dove. We leave for the swamp in five days...no CTDC...and I get a peek at the camp your friend is heading to. Right now.”

  “Could I stop you from following him if I tried?”

  “No, terrorista. Not even a grizzly could.”

  Bears might not stop Lobo. But Christians with weapons might.

  “I think you’re being suicidal. But deal. You get two minutes inside the camp, Lobo. And that’s it.”

  39

  Trinity smeared another handful of dirt on the knees of Lobo’s pantlegs. “You might pass as a Christian in the dark, Lobo. The beard helps. But your hair’s too pretty. Too perfect.”

  Lobo grinned. “Gracias.”

  Her head tilted. “I need scissors.”

  I handed her my knife.

  She sawed off a few chunks of black hair and ripped his pantleg. “Now lose the electronics and the smile. Pretend your family is missing...or dead.”

  “They are dead.”

  “Well, act less happy about it.”

  He rearranged his expression and stashed his camera under the foliage. “OK. I’m ready. Oh, one second.” He fiddled with the smaller electronic from his pocket then concealed it under more pine needles and sticks. “Now I’m ready.”

  Spending time with Wolfe taught me some basics about electronics. Like the ability to send messages without having to speak. “Lobo, you just communicated with someone. Who?”

  He followed the other two deeper into the woods. “Savannah. Letting her know I survived the attack with no loss of limb, so no reason to send authorities into the forest after my body. I also told her I was helping locals trap the bear, which she’s knows is something I’d do. I’m never one to turn down any challenge that nature throws at me. And the news of a rogue bear will keep her away from these woods tonight. She’s no animal lover, that one. City tough but afraid of anything wearing fur.”

  Wooden clunks echoed louder than the sound of flowing river water. It was the noise of Christians at camp grappling with weapons. His steps quickened.

  I plucked the back of his stained shirt. “How were you waiting for me at that spot on the road. How’d you know I’d show up there?”

  “Know? How would I know? I arrived back in town today with Jess and Savannah to discuss tracking you down. We went for a drive, got turned around, and tempers flared—mostly Savannah’s. I suggested we pause to figure out our coordinates and cool off.”

  I sucked in my breath and backhanded his head.

  He clapped his scalp and swung around. “Do I annoy you?”

  “Yes. Very much. How many miracles does God have to do for you...in front of your eyes...before you believe in Him?”

  “Who says I don’t believe?” He winked and jogged to catch up with the others.

  A wheezy snoring issued from a branch where the tree-dweller acted as guard. We continued on then halted.

  The camp appeared a hundred times more horrible in the darkness than it had in daylight.

  I blinked at the blanket of smoke that covered the clearing. Campfires and torches cast a flickering, orange glow on the tents while figures with weapons wove around them in a chaotic mess. And that baby still cried. Its distressed wail matched the stomach-knotting scene.

  A fire-lit arrow whooshed past. I jumped away from the arc of flames, my nerves pulling tauter. I stepped sideways and extinguished the fire with my sole.

  A girl Jovie’s age trudged over with a bow and yanked the smoking arrow out from under my foot. She didn’t seem to recognize
me or care about us strangers loitering at the edge of the camp. Her shoulders sagged as if heavy with the burden of mastering her weapon. She shuffled back to the archers.

  Lobo whimpered in the back of his throat.

  “Scared? I told you not to come.”

  The back of his hand swiped at his beads of forehead sweat. “This is a nightmare. Here before me lays the ultimate example of Christian vehemence. A scene of such violence and passion, such as has never been sighted before in my lifetime. Until now. Here it is. And I don’t have my camera.”

  He grabbed my shoulder. “I’ll get my camera equipment, Dove. And you don’t have to go to Louisiana or anywhere ever again. Just help me film this. We’ll need a microphone, lights, and...”

  My stomach lurched. Film this? Show every television-owning nonbeliever just how correct they were to be afraid of Christians? No doubt the viewers would react by punishing any Sent who remained in their towns, which was the reaction Reed wanted in order to get his Reclaim started. It was what Satan wanted.

  “No, Lobo. Never. I’ll smash your camera first.”

  His voice shook. “I can’t...not film this. You don’t understand. This is it. My moment to capture the reality of what no other person has before. I can’t walk away tonight emptyhanded. Not without revealing the truth to the world.”

  I’d already spewed poison calling nonbelievers Satan’s puppets on the radio. No way could I let Lobo spread more hate through the television.

  Another flaming arrow sailed past with a whoosh and a whisper. But the whisper didn’t belong to any weapon.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and focused. I heard past my thundering pulse and the baby’s cries. Beyond the small explosion in the trees, the swords knocking together, and the twangs of bows.

  I nodded and opened my eyes. “Lobo, the moment you bring your camera into the open, these people will stop you. Or I will stop you. Or my brother will.”

  My shout would bring Gilead or some other fighter who would ensure Lobo never used his camera tonight...or maybe ever again.

  I swallowed. “You can’t film this. But you won’t leave these woods emptyhanded of truth. Instead of recording this...record me. I’ll let you into my head, and whatever you want to ask me—insider Christian stuff, personal details—I’ll tell you. Broadcast it. I don’t care. And I’ll fly to Louisiana with you. But tonight, your two minutes at this camp are up. We need to leave before someone puts an arrow through you on purpose.”

  I turned my back to his sputter. Trinity leaned against a far boulder. Alone. Focused on the tree line past the clearing where Micah must’ve gone to work on his explosive devices.

  I picked up a piece of litter—an empty wedge of honeycomb that someone had discarded—and lobbed it at her.

  A hit. Rubbing her arm, she moved closer.

  “You’re staying here, Trinity?”

  “Of course not. I’m not ditching and letting you deal with that Lobo guy yourself.”

  “But if I was...maybe dead...you’d stay?”

  “Probably. So what?”

  “Pretend I’m dead.” I dropped my voice. “Stay. Convince Micah to destroy those bombs. And try to get campers to talk to God. And to hear Him, even if just a little.”

  “I’m not Rebecca.”

  Rebecca—a genius idea! If she showed up, these people would listen and quit all this. I spoke faster. “Try anyway. And don’t get in the way of the arrows.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And be, I guess...happy? Despite this huge mess.”

  “Lame, Dove.” She grinned. “I am.”

  We gripped each other. Then I released her and dragged Lobo with me into a less lethal piece of forest.

  ~*~

  A second tear rolled down my cheek. Surrounded by forest and half blinded by Jessica’s artificial light so the camera would see me better, I blubbered like a two-year-old.

  “Explain to us your tears, Dove Strong.” Lobo, acting as my interviewer, gave me a thumbs-up as if approving of my dramatic display of emotional weakness. “Do you cry because you miss your mother, who you claim has disappeared? Or because someone murdered your father?”

  “No.”

  He gestured for me to continue. “The truth? You promised.”

  I wasn’t a liar—I had told him I’d answer any question he asked. So, with a runny nose and pathetic, leaky eyes, I described Satan. Powerful and evil. Laughing. Snatching up humans and trapping them forever in his terrible abyss.

  “What humans, Dove?”

  “You.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Her.”

  Jessica drew her breath in a hiss.

  I squinted at my fingers clenching the hat in my lap. “There was this lady once in Sisters. I was walking past her fence, and a fast car with an open door swerved alongside me. I was hit by the open door. And this lady ran out of her home and chased the car away. She put ice on my bruises, gave me water, hugged me. She...she got mad when she saw my legs.”

  I scrubbed at my damp face. Then I glared up. “And she’s going to Hell.”

  “But maybe not. You only guess so.”

  “I know so.”

  “But your tears and your anguish over non-fanatics and their eternal fates...this does not match up with an eye-witness account from today.” He winked. “An account that multitudes of Christians like you have gathered in secret to train in combat techniques.”

  I held my breath and waited to hear if he’d say the name of our location. But he also kept his promise and didn’t.

  “OK.” My eyeballs were beginning to dry. “So?”

  “So why do your people, these fanatical Christians, appear not to share your concern?”

  I shrugged. “Because of fear. Lies. Bad leaders.” Reed Bender’s name teetered on the tip of my tongue. Then I swallowed it. To make his name known among nonbelievers would give him fame and increase his power.

  It was the same reason I didn’t voice my suspicion at what the building held at the outskirts of the Black Butte village. Or about the possible government hostage situation that might occur soon. Or about the Reclaim that seemed destined to happen despite the Councils’ rulings for peace.

  Lobo didn’t know to ask direct questions about any of these things, so I kept the terrible truths locked inside. Why would I blab about unasked issues that would increase the hate between Christians and non-Christians? It already bubbled like a stew about to boil over.

  “And now, Dove. Tell us about your home life. We want details. And secrets you’ve been keeping to yourself about growing up Christian.”

  40

  I groped for the car’s seat and collapsed onto it. On the black stretch of asphalt, Lobo and Jessica continued to load their equipment. The vehicle jostled with each addition—the portable lights. The power-supplying plasma generator. The cables and camera stands.

  I pressed my forehead against the cool glass as the two climbed into the front. Doors slammed. The engine started.

  During the drive to Sisters to take me home, Lobo gushed to Jessica about the Christian camp he hadn’t filmed.

  “Fire being used everywhere, Jess. And the bloodlust...even the children training, as if to kill—”

  “That’s it, Lobo. Turn us around. Take me back. I’m going in to get footage.”

  My muscles tensed, but he continued to drive us straight.

  A new worry struck. Would these two sneak back tomorrow or the next day with their cameras? Why should I trust Lobo’s word? All those answers I’d given to keep my end of the bargain...I shuddered. Could my sacrifice be for nothing? I bit my lip, unable to shake off the nausea at what I’d revealed during my interview.

  Now everyone knew the exact location of my tree home in Ochoco and that my last name was Strong and not Pickett.

  I’d shared the details of my dad’s arrest and his murder. Viewers would chuckle over my fear of bicycles, dogs, and Dead Nights. They’d laugh at my answers about God. About why I still clung to my b
elief of His love during the times when I lay broken and starving. And why I was convinced of a place called Hell.

  I pressed my face against the curved window as if to pass through it, outside to where the car’s breeze could blow away my new memory of this horrible interview.

  “A fire,” Jessica pointed out Lobo’s window. “Look.”

  I raised my head from the glass. It disappeared, leaving an open hole. Smoky night air rushed in as Lobo maneuvered us to an open spot of pavement between familiar houses. Men in uniforms were extinguishing my shelter’s last glowing embers. They sprayed water, scattering the charred remains of arborvitae trees.

  “Luckily, the fire only burned a small bunch of trees in a cow field. Not a house.” Lobo shrugged. “Not your home.”

  He continued through the neighborhoods and stopped in front of Wolfe’s house. I got out, since it was the address I’d given him. He called something about meeting in five days and drove away.

  I wasn’t surprised that Satan had led someone to discover my tree shelter and destroy it. With all the evening visitors the last few days, as well as Brooke’s and Rebecca’s determination to use a lantern in the field, more than one person would have noticed our presence. No, I wasn’t mad. Just tired. And now I didn’t have a place to sleep.

  A faint sob sounded from close by. I approached the boxy Saint Jonah’s Thrift Store van, which had become a permanent fixture in Wolfe’s driveway.

  Knock, knock. The door under my knuckles opened with a click. Joshua hunkered next to the tassled lantern, his cheeks swollen and tear streaked. Wolfe closed the door behind me and resettled, patting his curly head.

  My queasiness, created by my interview, intensified to stomach-heaving panic. Why did Joshua cry? Who’d died? “Sky alive! Well? What’s wrong?”

  Joshua smeared his tears. “My sister...she’s been taken. Brooke and Hunter too.”

  “Tell me what happened. Exactly.”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “Wolfe? Spit it out...even if it’s bad news.”

  He hesitated a moment. “We...we all saw the drawing you left, Dove, the one you carved on that crate...of the abandoned employees building. I explained it to Rebecca. But I didn’t find out that she and the others had decided to head to the village to check it out until Josh showed up at the van this afternoon. Alone and upset. Apparently the four of them made the hike to the village early this morning. Josh played lookout while Hunter, Rebecca, and Brooke took a stab at removing a board from one of the building’s lower, busted-out windows.”