The White Carnation

by Susanne Matthews

  “Congratulations. You’re breeding. Early in the first trimester to be sure, but it looks good. You’ve got good, strong hips—made for birthing. Jimmy has chosen wisely. The Prophet will be pleased. Get some rest. You need to keep up your strength. We leave in five days, and the journey will be a long one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Wait! What journey? Where are we going?”

  “So many questions. Curiosity is the devil’s tool, but since you’re new to our ways, I’ll indulge you this time. You’re in the primary stable with all the other exceptional young mares. The exodus starts tomorrow, but we leave for the Promised Land in five days.”

  “Why do you call me a mare? I’m not a horse.”

  The woman laughed. “I see you have a temper. We’ll soon rid you of that. Tell me, Faye … That is your given name?”

  Faye nodded.

  “What would you call females selected specifically for breeding, who live in a stable?”

  She left the stall, closing the door behind her. The bolt slid into place, and Faye heard her chuckling to herself as she moved away.

  Faye shivered, not from the cold but from fear. The woman was right about one thing—she needed to keep up her strength. She’d find a way out of this hellhole if it was the last thing she ever did. Neither she nor Mary were brood mares. Damn it. I’m a liberated woman. She left the tray on the desk, used the commode again, and walked back to the bed.

  Another rule of survival was to know your environment. She stood on the bed and looked out over the side of her enclosure. It was dark, but her light brightened it enough that she could see four enclosures beside her and that many across what must be a hallway. She was in the second stall, so that meant one on the other side. How many were there? Ten? More?

  Mother had placed the lamp on the bedside table; Faye turned off the light and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Now that she knew a little about where she was, she could let herself think of her predicament. She was pregnant—not as big a surprise as it might have been since she’d suspected it several days ago. There were ways to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, but at the moment, that wasn’t an option. The woman hadn’t tied her up again; maybe she could find a way to escape in the morning. There was no way she’d stay here, but she couldn’t leave without Mary.

  So where was here? It had been almost eleven thirty this morning when she’d last looked at the clock wondering where Rob was, and it had been dark when they’d arrived. Nightfall was around nine thirty at this time of year, so she was within a ten-hour radius of Lake Placid. Okay. She’d try to get her bearings in the morning. Mother said they’d be leaving in five days—she had to find a way out of here before that.

  She yawned, suddenly dizzy, and sat down abruptly on the bed. Damn! I’ve been drugged again. Surely that can’t be good for the baby.

  • • •

  Rob awoke with a start when someone shook his shoulder.

  “Agent Clark needs you in the briefing room. We’ve had a breakthrough.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Rob went into the washroom, shaved and showered as quickly as he could, and then pulled on his jeans and a clean, navy t-shirt with Lake Placid emblazoned across it. He grabbed his shoulder holster and tweed jacket off the end of the bed. His hair was wet, but it would do. Someone would be in to clean the bed for the next guy. He hoped that wouldn’t be him. His watch said it was almost ten. He’d crashed around five this morning. He’d been here twenty-four hours, and still no word on Faye. He needed to go home and get some proper sleep. He wasn’t doing her any good like this. He needed to be able to think clearly.

  They’d identified the Fotomat girl yesterday from the information supplied by the tattoo artist. A young man had brought Eloise Colchester, a member of the cult near Grants, into the tattoo parlor in Albuquerque about four years ago. The girl had a large scar on her face, some kind of burn, and he wanted a tattoo that would hide it. They’d looked through a number of designs, and she’d picked an eagle. She’d called it a warrior angel’s design.

  The tattoo artist had quickly sketched a picture of the young man—both Rob and Tom recognized Jimmy, the photographer who’d quit his job and disappeared. The tattoo artist had been returned safely to New Mexico. This was one witness who wouldn’t die.

  “What’s up, Trevor?” Rob asked, coming into the room.

  “Prints are back from the cabin, and we got a break. James Colchester, aka Jimmy Farley, is the man who took Faye. He’s also the bastard who raped her and the others.”

  “Son of a bitch. He’s the Harvester?” Rob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That guy had been around Faye for months. Why do this now?

  “We don’t think he’s the killer,” Trevor said, “but he’s definitely the man who fathered the children. DNA from Jimmy’s nest matches the DNA from the case files. James Colchester was born in Grants at the New Horizon commune. He’s one of ten children—seven boys and three girls. He applied for a job as a forest ranger and a gun permit about four years ago. That’s why his prints are on record. He came here with the Farley identification a little less than three years ago and started working at the paper. It took a while, but we’ve managed to piece together a surprising amount of information about the New Horizon cult. I’ve sent word to Pierce to abandon recon on Slocum. We need to get the satellites working elsewhere, looking for these people. Based on what we’ve got, you’re talking almost three hundred people who could be part of this thing.”

  Rob whistled. “Faye said cults tended to stay smaller than that. What the hell are they up to?”

  “We don’t know for sure,” Tom said, joining them, “but we think Faye was right. The Harvester is dynasty-building, and he’s got to do it quickly. He’s on the clock—a baby every three months, and no one woman can do that. If Jimmy is doing this, you can bet your sweet ass his six brothers are doing it, too. We’ve got the information on the Harvester out on the wire, and we’re focusing on missing pregnant women, not just around here, but all over. We’ll find him. Jimmy Farley can’t hide from us anymore, and neither can the rest of these sick bastards. We’ve got them dead to rights.”

  “Well, let’s hope the mole doesn’t tell him we’re onto him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Faye awoke to the sound of a school bell clanging. The bolt on her cell door slid back, and a young girl, no more than twelve, came into the room with a tray on which sat a glass of orange juice and what appeared to be vitamins. If Mother Kate or Jimmy thought she’d voluntarily drink or eat anything after being drugged again, they had another thought coming.

  Realizing the door was unlocked, Faye threw back the covers and hurried to the entrance and what she hoped was freedom, only to be stopped by Mother Kate standing just beyond it, a riding crop held firmly in her hand.

  “So predictable,” she said and sighed. “Get back inside and wait until I come for you. You’ve earned a day of solitary confinement with your attempted escape.”

  “What attempted escape? I was just having a look around. The door was open … Am I a prisoner here?”

  “No intelligent breeder lets his mares roam freely. Think of yourself not as a prisoner but as someone to be protected at all costs. Drink your juice and take your vitamins, and then I’ll take you to shower. Annie will watch to be sure you comply.”

  “How do I know you aren’t drugging me again?”

  Mother Kate snorted. “You don’t. You need to lose your belligerent attitude, young lady. Wife or not, such behavior is not permitted. As the Bible says, ‘Foolishness abounds in the heart of a mare; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from her.’ You need to obey the rules and trust the hand that feeds you.” She raised the crop. “Now, will you go in quietly, or will I have to force you back?”

  Faye scanned the area around her. She was in a hallway with doors on either side, all of them no doubt locked. Was Mary behind one of them? The door at the end of the hall had a window in it. How fast c
ould she make it there?

  The crop came down hard on her arm, its stinging blow shocking her.

  “Ouch!” Faye backed into the stall, her hand covering the welt. She turned toward the bed, ready to throw herself on it and cry, but the sight of her young jailor kept her from shedding tears.

  “The rod of correction is designed to teach you to behave. As you’ve seen, one lash is unpleasant. As other stubborn mares have learned, many are painful. I’ll attend to the others and be back for you later. Think carefully before you break another rule.”

  Faye lifted her chin in defiance. “They aren’t my rules. I don’t know them, so how can I follow them?”

  The child handed her the glass of juice and the small cup of vitamins. Faye glared at Mother Kate. If she wanted to get out of this damn prison cell, she’d have to do as she was told. Survival training 101—don’t show fear, keep calm, cooperate, don’t show weakness, don’t make them angry, don’t panic.

  She took the pills, tossed them into her mouth, and swallowed them with the juice.

  Mother Kate nodded her approval, motioned to Annie to leave the cell, and followed her out. The sound of the bolt sliding back into place was as loud as thunder.

  Faye swallowed her humiliation. To be called a mare was bad enough, but to be treated like one was worse. Mary. Her friend might be happy-go-lucky, but she’d never tolerate being treated like this. No doubt she’d earned more than one lash.

  After using the commode once more, Faye sat on her bunk, listening for sounds from the hallway or the other stalls. She heard bolts sliding, but the only voice was Mother Kate’s ordering the mares into the showers. Communal showers, how quaint. She hadn’t suffered through group showers since high school.

  Faye listened to the sound of running water, hoping to catch Mary’s voice, but no one spoke. Weren’t they allowed to speak? The child who’d come to her room hadn’t, but Faye had assumed it was because she was shy. Of course, stopping them from speaking to one another made sense if they were being indoctrinated. It was a form of isolation. Mary loved to sing in the shower and would talk to anyone who’d listen. Hell, she even had long, involved conversations with Muffin, so being forced to be silent like this would be torture.

  Faye paced the cell and counted her steps as she did so. Twelve, twenty-four, thirty-six, forty-eight. The room seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as she moved back and forth. It reminded her of an elevator, and the only thing staving off panic was the fact that the ceiling had to be thirty feet high. Sun poured in through the open window, and with it came a scent that tickled her mind. She’d smelled that before, the day the man had knocked her down outside of Lucy Green’s apartment. It was the smell of the herbal cigarettes Jimmy smoked. Their odor reminded her of a grass fire.

  The bolt slid back, admitting Mother Kate and the child dressed in gray who’d brought her juice.

  “As you see, your juice wasn’t drugged,” Mother Kate said. “This is Annie. It’s her task to attend to your daily needs. She’ll empty your chamber pot as needed and refill your ewer with fresh water. She’s learning to be a good filly in the hopes she’ll be chosen as mare one day. Unless you wish to see her whipped, don’t speak to her.”

  “Beating children is wrong,” Faye said.

  “Then you don’t want to force me to do so, do you? It’s time for your shower. When you get back, I’ll explain how you’ll spend your day.”

  “I thought I was spending it in here,” Faye said.

  “You are, but ‘idle hands are the devil’s workshop.’ Now, follow me.”

  Mother Kate opened the door to a large room resembling a gym locker room. On one side there were ten open showers. On the other side, a table held a robe and a towel. Next to the table was a chair. Mother Kate sat.

  “You have five minutes,” she said.

  “You’re just going to sit there and watch me?” Faye asked, affronted by the lack of common courtesy.

  “I am. Put aside false modesty. Normally, a foursome does everything together. Now, you have four minutes left,” she said, indicating the water coming from one showerhead.

  Reluctantly, Faye removed the nightgown and hurried under the water, which was lukewarm at best. Shivering slightly, she washed herself quickly. Using the herbal-scented shampoo provided, she managed to wash and rinse her hair before the water stopped. So much for long, hot showers.

  “Put these on as well.” Mother Kate handed her a pair of booties similar to those worn in hospital ORs. Faye cinched the belt of the housecoat tightly, noting it was sewn to the back to prevent her from taking the belt and using it as a weapon.

  Following Mother Kate back to her cell, Faye noted that the doors to the other cells were open. “Where are the others?” she asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

  “You ask too many questions. Mares are silent unless told otherwise. It’s one of our most sacred rules. I suggest you abide by it.”

  Faye stuck her tongue out at Mother Kate’s back.

  Inside the stall, she gaped at the clothing laid out on the bed. There was a floor-length, long-sleeved, pale-yellow dress, pantaloons that tied at the waist, a chemise, a pair of long, cotton stockings held up by ribbons, and flat, leather slippers.

  “You expect me to wear this?” Faye indicated the clothes. “It’s July, for God’s sake. I’ll cook. Can I at least have my own underwear?”

  “Mind your mouth. We’ve burned those ‘devil’s weeds.’ Dress quickly so that Annie may bring you your breakfast. She has other duties to attend to.”

  “Do I have to wear that, too?” Faye indicated a mob cap lying next to the other garments.

  “It’s necessary to cover your head until your hair grows in. Cutting a woman’s hair is punishment for vanity. Since you’ve arrived this way, the Prophet is allowing you this concession so that you may look the others in the eye instead of in shame. Given the fact you’ll not leave your stall today, the choice to wear it or not is yours.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She spent the rest of her day in solitary confinement completing the tasks Mother Kate gave her. Prior to becoming a journalist, Faye had toyed with the idea of being a fashion designer and had learned to sew, a skill which came in handy when Mother Kate informed her she’d have to make herself additional sets of clothes and a nightgown. The thought that the nightgown might one day be her burial dress nauseated her. If they’d expected this to be a punishment, they were mistaken. She’d always enjoyed sewing and using the treadle machine was a novelty. Mother Kate was surprised when she’d finished the task by mid-afternoon and informed Faye she could start her knitting and read her Bible; neither task appealed to her.

  The punishment had been endless hours of being confined to the stall, which was surprisingly cooler than she’d expected. Annie brought her meals, a step above the bread and water she’d expected, but after spending every waking moment with Rob these past few weeks, she missed him terribly, and the loneliness crushed her.

  No one returned to the stalls on either side of her, although it was evening and the other women were back in their cells. In front of her was the New Horizon manifesto she’d been ordered to read. Not only was it dry as the desert, it was all anti-government survivalist propaganda mixed with religious fanaticism. There were corrupt passages of the Bible thrown in for good measure. She’d almost burst out laughing once, but the memory of Mother Kate’s crop had kept her quiet. If talking was against the rules, laughing at them had to be, too.

  When it came time for lights out, Faye was relieved the day was over. Without argument, she drank the warm milk Annie brought her and got undressed and into bed. She was glad the fear that had haunted her each night seemed to be gone. What was there to be afraid of now? The monster had a face and had claimed her. Knowing her enemy empowered her. What she needed was to formulate an escape plan, and to do that, she needed to get out of this cell tomorrow. Mary was here, and she had to get them both away from this place, but what of the others? Could she
leave women and children prisoners here? Mother Kate had said they were leaving in five days, and she’d wasted one of them cooped up in her prison. She couldn’t waste another.

  Settling into the blankets, she missed the feel of Rob’s warm body against hers. She rubbed her hand over her as yet flat stomach. The child growing in there had to be Rob’s; it just had to be. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she silently cried herself to sleep.

  • • •

  The bell woke her again as it had the previous morning. Annie entered the cell with her juice and vitamins, and Faye took them quickly. Let them assume she’d been cowed into submission. She knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.

  Mother Kate entered the stall. “I see you’ve decided to behave,” she said.

  “Yes, Mother,” Faye answered as the infamous book had instructed.

  “I’ll speak of this only once. It’s strictly forbidden to discuss the outside world. Normally, this isn’t a problem because most of the mares come from sister groups of believers or are lost sheep happy to have been selected for procreating with the Chosen. The Prophet allowed James to select his mares outside the family. He permitted him to bring Mary here, knowing you and she had met in your prior lives. Should I catch either of you discussing the before time, the punishment will be severe for both parties involved. Twenty lashes—and the fact that Mary is within a month of birthing her child won’t spare her. Pain and punishment are good for the soul. Now, come, it’s time to shower.”

  Faye followed Mother Kate out of the stall, struggling to keep her temper, but the crop in the woman’s hands and the thought it could be inflicted on Mary kept her in control. The other women stood in line, and Faye took her place at the end. They entered the shower area. Two other women dressed in black were there, and all three sat on chairs at the back of the room out of the range of the water, but well able to see if anyone tried to talk to one another or pass a note.

  Kate followed the lead of the others, scanning the room to find Mary. She grinned when she saw her, but the smile died on her face, and her heart went out to her friend.