The White Carnation

by Susanne Matthews

  Mary’s long red hair had been dyed an unflattering shade of mouse-brown. Despite her larger breasts and distended abdomen, her friend had lost weight, and it showed in her gaunt cheeks. She kept her head down, and Faye feared they’d broken her. The water came on with a blast of cold followed by the hot water she’d missed yesterday. Washing quickly, she shampooed and rinsed just as the water stopped. Hurrying to the table, she dried herself, avoiding eye contact with the others—another rule in the damn book—and put on her robe and slippers. She resumed her position at the end of the line and followed the others to her stall.

  She dressed quickly in the garments she’d worn the previous day, making sure to add the mob cap to her outfit, and sat quietly waiting for someone to come and take her to breakfast with the others since she wasn’t supposed to be confined to her stall today. She feared they’d forgotten her until the bolt slid out of the wall and Annie indicated she should follow her.

  The communal area resembled a school cafeteria. There were two long tables designed to hold four on each side. On a raised platform, there was another smaller table with three chairs, no doubt for the women in black who’d supervised the showers.

  Annie led her to one of the tables already occupied by seven women, including Mary. None of them acknowledged her arrival. Faye frowned as a man she hadn’t noticed until now attached a shackle and four-foot chain to her ankle and then bolted her fetter to a ring on the floor. She’d expected it, since there had been signs of restraints on the Harvester’s victims.

  “If you don’t tug on it, you’ll scarcely notice your hobble,” Mother Kate said. “Sit, mares, and eat.”

  Is she the only damn one allowed to speak here?

  Annie and other women brought out cereal similar to what she’d been given the previous day, in addition to a soft-boiled egg, toast, juice, and peppermint tea. She’d give her eyeteeth for a cup of strong, black coffee, even if it had to be decaf because of the baby.

  As soon as the food was served, one of the other women in black began to read from the manifesto. The attempted brainwashing left her reeling. Hearing and reading this drivel over and over could easily influence a weak mind. She thought of little Annie, a child hoping to be a mare someday. That was wrong on so many different levels.

  As Faye ate, she glanced around the table and quickly lowered her eyes again. All of the others, including Mary, had their heads bowed, focused on their food. Mother Kate walked back and forth, her crop in her hand, ready to apply it to anyone who wasn’t complying. Pain, humiliation, and subjugation were the modus operandi of the cult.

  “The Bible says a woman must obey her husband in all things. She must never argue with him. His needs and those of his seed come above hers always. She is the reason man was cast out of Eden and deserves no more than to be treated like the animal she is. Giving birth through pain and agony is her punishment. In the Prophet’s wisdom, he has made life easy for mares, asking little of them but strong, healthy children.”

  Yeah, like that’s the truth. Nobody made Adam eat the apple—he had free will. In captivity, discretion was the better part of valor. Faye kept her mouth shut. Antagonizing Mother wouldn’t help her escape this man-made hell.

  The indoctrination went on for a couple of hours until Annie and the other servants arrived with muffins and milk midmorning. The fact that food seemed plentiful made her wonder why Mary had lost so much weight. Had she been ill? Some women didn’t tolerate pregnancy well. Hadn’t Mary thought she had cancer or a tumor? Maybe she’d neglected her health in the early stages.

  She’d just finished her muffin when the man who’d shackled her to the floor came and released her. Faye stood when the others did and was disappointed when she was tied to the woman beside her in a group of four. At least Mary was one of them. Would she be able to finally talk to her friend or would the human buffer between them forbid it? Annie brought her a wide-brimmed bonnet that reminded her of the one worn by her Holly Hobbie doll years ago.

  Following the other foursome, Faye entered a fenced yard, much like a corral used to exercise horses. The first thing she noted were the mountains on the horizon—was she still in the Adirondacks? These mountains seemed higher, more rugged. So where was she? The second thing that gave her pause was the sight of armed men on the rooftops. She might not be fettered at night, but men in guns and a hostile environment made escape, even by herself, all but impossible. How would she manage with a pregnant woman? And what about the missing children?

  “Mares, this is your exercise period. Walk. You may converse for thirty minutes. Remember to stay within the topics allowed. Enjoy your freedom.” Mother went back into the stable.

  “Freedom? She calls this freedom?” Faye asked the woman shackled on her right, between herself and Mary. “So what are we allowed to talk about?”

  “Anything but the before time,” said one of the women in the other foursome.

  “The before time?”

  “Before we were chosen,” Mary said. Her voice sounded humbled, but the gleam in her eye as she looked at Faye’s face fully for the first time told Faye that Mary was no more enamored of this crap than she was.

  Faye smiled. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Better than I did when I got here,” Mary said. “I was having problems with nausea, and then you know me—compliance wasn’t high on my list. My ass has had better days. I’ve learned my lesson.” But the gleam in her eye gave lie to her words.

  “I’ll bet you have.”

  The woman next to Mary interrupted. “We can exchange names,” she said. “I’m Ruth. Mother admonished me to help you two stay away from the forbidden topics, and you’re awfully close to them right now. Mary, surely you don’t want our wife lashed.”

  “Our wife?”

  “I’m Amalie,” said the woman in yellow in the other foursome. You’re James’s wife, and as such, you’re the figurehead. These are your handmaidens, and you’re their wife.”

  “Seriously? My name is Faye, but you’re wrong. I’m not anyone’s wife.” She turned to the woman beside her. “You don’t look pregnant,” she said, recognizing Ruth Hamilton, the suspected fourth victim.

  “I’m not. I gave birth to twin boys in February, and I’m still nursing. I’ll be taken to the dormitory to feed them shortly. Most of the time, I have to pump my milk, but I get to spend three hours with your sons each day.”

  “My sons? I don’t have any babies.” At least not yet.

  “You’re James’s wife, and all the children born to his handmaidens belong to you,” Amalie said. “These women are my handmaidens”—she pointed to the three with her—“so with them, my husband, Peter, and I have twelve children.”

  “Twelve? That’s impossible.”

  The girl laughed. “Not impossible. Peter has been growing his line twice as long as James’s. You have five children now, another on the way shortly, and if you’re breeding, too, you’ll catch up to me in no time.”

  “What about you?” Faye asked the girl on the other side of Mary. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Elisa,” she said softly.

  “When’s your baby due?”

  “November. Mother and James have both said I can return home after as long as I leave the child. The other mothers did,” she said defensively.

  “You’re forbidden to speak of that,” Amalie said. “It’s unnatural for a woman to leave her child.”

  Before she could ask another question, Mother returned.

  “Faye, James has arrived to speak with you.” She handed a small key to Annie who’d followed her out, and the girl undid the shackle. “Since we have a guest, the rest of you will stay outside until his visit is over. Enjoy the sun. You won’t see it again for a few days.

  Faye followed Mother Kate back to a separate stall she hadn’t noticed earlier. It was decorated to look like an old-fashioned parlor. Jimmy was looking in the mirror, which she was sure was two-way glass. She almost didn’t recognize him. With h
is hair cut, his face properly shaved, and wearing clean clothes, he was quite handsome. But knowing what a monster he was dampened any attraction she might’ve felt.

  “Good day, wife,” he said, approaching her and kissing her forehead.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said angrily, pulling away.

  “I know it’s presumptuous of me, but I’ve waited so long for this.”

  “If you think I’m calmly going to go along with this, Jimmy Farley, you’re nuttier than a fruitcake. You think you’re the master and I’m your slave? Think again!”

  He backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the floor. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

  “How dare you strike me!”

  “I’ll strike you and more if you don’t learn your place quickly. Mind your tongue, wife. Blasphemy is a serious crime. You’ll feel the brunt of my anger and the rod of correction if you don’t obey me and follow the rules. I’d hate to have to whip you and mar that fine skin. I’m sorry I hurt you, but as the Bible says: spare the rod, and you have a willful mare and disobedient children. My mares and I aren’t above the law. I’m one of the Chosen. I’ve made you my consort. It’s an honor. Only those who carry the Creator’s blood can rule the new order. We’ll care for the brethren and subjugate those who oppose us. We’ll have many children—sons to rule after me, pure-blooded females to trade with other compounds.”

  “Why me, Jimmy? Why the others? What have we done to deserve this honor?” She fought to keep the sarcasm hidden in her voice, but he didn’t seem to notice. He smiled, seemingly pleased by her use of the word.

  He helped her to her feet. “You reached out to me in my loneliness. The Lord sent you. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, the day you smiled and welcomed me. I chose my handmaidens because they resembled you. It shows more through the camera’s eye—the bone structure—what matters most. Normally, nothing from before can come with you, but Mary was different. I knew you’d be happy to have her in our family. You missed her; now you’ll be together in service to me and the cause. Ruth has chosen to stay as my concubine. I hope Elisa will decide the same when her child is born, and if she does, our household will be complete. But the choice is ultimately hers. The others wished to be released and they were.”

  “What about Meredith? What choice did she have? She wasn’t one of yours—she didn’t have anything to do with this. Why take her?”

  He hung his head, sorrow on his face.

  “Meredith was a mistake. In my arrogance, I mistook her for one of mine, and the Prophet was prepared to accept her into the fold, but she was flawed. I’ve been punished for it, as were the watchers who failed in their task.”

  Faye shivered. “It looks like you fared better than the others. You killed her and the others—the Williamsons, and Mary’s mother, too. How many people have died because of you? You’re a monster.”

  He ran his hand through his short hair, reminding her of Rob, and tears threatened.

  “Faye, I haven’t killed anyone. That isn’t my role. You’ll learn our ways. The women who bore our children wanted to return home. The Prophet honored their requests. As for the Williamsons, they were to take the baby and abandon him in the countryside. Instead, they chose to hide him and try to keep him. He was weak, like his mother, a bleeder. Only the strong can survive. One of the slayers dispatched them.”

  “What about Mary’s mother? What did Lucy Green ever do to earn being dispatched?”

  “That was a mistake. She surprised the young man in her apartment, and he panicked. He’s been disciplined. Since you’re forbidden to speak of the before time, Mary will never learn what really happened to her mother. Mother Kate is her mother now and yours. I want Mary to be happy here. Do I have your word you won’t tell her about her mother’s rebirth?”

  “Rebirth? Is that what you call it? Fine. I won’t mention her mother’s murder.” Telling Mary the truth right now would serve no useful purpose, but when they got out of here, she’d make sure her friend understood what crazed monsters these people were.

  He frowned. “I can see it’ll take some time to convince you our ways are the best. My time is up. I’ll return tomorrow.” He kissed her, and it took everything in her not to vomit.

  Rob and the FBI had it wrong; there wasn’t one insane man out here. There was a whole swarm of them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rob and Trevor sat in a secluded corner of the squad room, looking over covert aerial surveillance photos he’d just received from Langley. Trevor had arranged for a military satellite with infrared heat-seeking capability to search for large concentrations of people in areas where population was sparse throughout Massachusetts. The whole thing was on the QT, but if nothing turned up on today’s radar, they’d expand outside the state. There were lots of underpopulated areas in New Hampshire, where they’d look next. Rob stared at the image taken over Slocum and rubbed his chin. According to the shot, there were no more than ten warm bodies in the area. Those would belong to Pierce’s team.

  “Must’ve been taken during the day, but where the hell is everyone?”

  “I don’t know,” Trevor said, scowling, “but I don’t like it. If they were there as we suspected, then they’ve moved out. How did Pierce miss them? I don’t like this.”

  Before Rob could comment, the door opened.

  “Pierce found her!” Tom bellowed. “The son of a bitch found her! He’s found them both, and the babies, too. They’re in Slocum, just as Faye suspected.”

  Rob looked over at Trevor, whose scowl had deepened. What the hell’s going on here?

  “Don’t say anything,” his boss whispered, and Rob nodded.

  “What do you mean, Tom?” Trevor asked.

  “They’re keeping them on a horse farm just outside of town,” Pierce said, following Tom into the room and looking as slovenly as ever, a self-satisfied grin pasted on his face.

  The agent approached the nearest desk, clicked a button on the computer, and a photograph of numerous people appeared on the screen. What drew Rob’s gaze were the women within a red circle. The picture was a grainy, black and white satellite image, but he recognized Mary, her body distorted by pregnancy, and beside her, the word “Faye” indicated a slim woman whose hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  Rob stared at the picture, disappointment threatening to drown him. That couldn’t be Faye, but the other woman certainly looked like Mary. He was about to tell Pierce that when the stern look on Trevor’s face made him swallow his words.

  “What are we waiting for?” Tom cried. “Let’s get the SWAT team and go get them.”

  “Not so fast, cowboy,” Pierce said. “Look over there.”

  He indicated a dozen men in the photograph, holding what looked like automatic rifles. Some were on rooftops, others were at ground level. All the rifles appeared to be pointed at the women. It reminded Rob of pictures he’d seen of WWII concentration camps.

  “If we go in now, guns blazing, they’ll probably kill every last one of them before we can get to them. Look at the photo again. There are eight women in that exercise yard—seven look like they’re tied together.”

  Pierce put up another photograph. Several women watched a number of toddlers and infants at play on swings and a wooden climber. Rob counted a dozen children—none looked to be more than three. In this picture as in the other, men with rifles had their weapons trained on the women and children.

  “These photos were taken three hours ago by our satellite. It took a while to get it into position. We think these may be the missing babies. My men have been watching Slocum for weeks now. It didn’t take long to realize something strange was going on. Three days ago, the day Faye disappeared, things changed. The only cars in and out of town belong to the mayor, the vet, and that rancher. They traveled to the horse farm, the mixed-farming operation, and back to town. That’s it.”

  “That’s nuts. What happened to all the other cars you guys have been watching?” Tom asked.


  Rob ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to say more, but the look on Trevor’s face kept him quiet.

  “We don’t know. It took a hell of a long time to get answers, but my people at Quantico—the BAU isn’t the only FBI department with resources—finally tracked down some of the names on the deeds. They don’t own the property. The entire town was bought by a movie studio three years ago. Lights are set up to come on and go off at different times to simulate people living there, but no one does. The place was bought to be the set for a small-town paranormal series that never panned out, and the company went into receivership last year. It looks like Mary Green stumbled onto something that got her into a hell of a lot of trouble and probably got her mother killed.”

  “But you guys have been watching people ...” Rob couldn’t remain silent.

  “Yes, we have, and those bastards knew it. They set us up, showed us what we wanted to see. Once I realized the truth, I sent some men out to check out both farms. The mixed farm is owned by J.T. Lennox. He’s got to have three or four dozen men and teenaged boys working there, maybe more, and there’s not a single woman on the place. My boys thought that was odd. The crew that checked out Paradise Acres, the horse farm, found the opposite. There are three huge stables, but only a couple dozen horses kept there.” He indicated two buildings on each side of a newer structure. “The ranch is crawling with women, toddlers, babies, and the school-aged kids we’d seen in town—must be twenty of them all told. My guys couldn’t see that exercise yard where the pregnant women are from their position, so I called in a favor. We figure there must be eight or ten women in seclusion in there, women like Mary Green, here”—he indicated Mary—“and Faye.”

  “But—” Rob started to speak, but Trevor cut him off.

  “They look to be in good shape, but you’re right, Pierce, we can’t just go barging in. What more can you tell us?”

  Maybe it doesn’t matter that Faye isn’t there. If we rescue these women, we’ll find her.