by Jeff Hirsch
He smiled again, giving permission for the laugh that rippled through the audience.
“We have been told that this great thing could not be done and now here we are, standing on the edge of it. There was once a great light that shone from this country and illuminated the whole of the world. Every one of us lived through that light’s dimming. We were there as brother reached out to brother, not to help him up but to tear him down. We were there when a million backs turned from God to venerate worldly things. When I think of that time, I think of a pit of dogs driven mad by a hunger that can’t be quenched.”
He stepped back and the silence hung, crystalline.
“But then I stood in the desert of Saudi Arabia with my brothers, Riyadh burning behind us, and I was struck dumb by the beauty of the world. There was sand and there was sky and at night there were stars. Finally, I thought, I can find my way.”
He paused again and the silence was crushing. I wanted to turn, to look for Nat, but I couldn’t move.
“We decided then that we would not make a new world. We would find our way back to the one we were never meant to leave.”
The crowd rose as one, applauding wildly. My paralysis broke and I moved low and fast toward the aisle. The Receiving would come soon, and I had to be ready. Just as I expected, the beacons moved toward the altar to assist Hill. But Hill bypassed it and came to the edge of the stage. He stepped off into the crowd and my stomach sank. What was he doing?
The Path discipline vanished and the crowds rushed toward him. Hard-faced soldiers and novices alike knocked aside their chairs until there was a wall of bodies pressing their hands through a circular perimeter that security quickly came in to establish. I looked to where I had last seen Nat, but she was gone.
Hill moved through the space, and the crowd accommodated him, splitting ahead to re-form behind. They all reached out to touch him, and Hill struggled to meet every hand, beaming as he did so. People’s cheeks shone from tears. Their faces glowed.
Bodies pressed in all around me, pinning my arms to my side and dragging me along. I managed to look behind me and saw a band of gray uniforms, unbroken except for a single dot of white making her way through them toward Hill.
Nat was twenty feet out and closing quickly. I tried to push through the crowd, but there were so many people. Hill appeared and disappeared in the confusion, reaching out to grasp people’s hands, to embrace them, to kiss them, tears in his eyes. But then there was a gasp and the movement of the crowd ceased moving and a hush fell.
I pushed through the final layer of bodies until I saw Hill, barely five feet away from me. A young novice, overcome with emotion, had thrown himself past Hill’s security to fall at the man’s feet. Hill touched the novice’s arm and drew him up. Once he was standing, Hill embraced him and then turned the young man around for all of us to see.
The novice beamed up at Hill, his face rosy, joyous. Hill smiled, lost in the moment, but then his eyes fixed at a point across the circle. Everyone turned to follow his gaze and came to a lone companion who had just stepped out of the crowd.
Nat’s face was bare of her veil, but no one was looking at her face. Every eye in the room was locked on her right hand and the silver cylinder that rested in her palm.
There were screams and then the rush of security as they swarmed through the crowd and raised their weapons. I recoiled, anticipating a roar of fire, but then Nathan’s voice rose over the crowd.
“Stop!”
The soldiers hesitated. Hill lifted his hand, then slowly lowered it until it rested once again on the boy’s shoulder. As one, the guards returned their weapons to their sides. The crowd pulled back, but I stayed where I was, ending up alongside the first line of soldiers, Nat to my left and Hill to my right.
Nat’s eyes were red and swollen, moving from Hill to the novice boy in front of him.
“You’ve been crying.”
As soft as Hill’s voice was, it filled the Lighthouse. Nat didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off him. Her hand was out before her like a lance. The room felt very small as everyone in it except Nat and Hill and the boy seemed to fall away.
“People you love have been killed in all of this,” Hill said. “Haven’t they?”
I moved behind the front line of the crowd, drifting closer to Nat.
“Let him go,” she said.
“Was it your parents?”
“I said let him go!”
“Were they soldiers?”
The muscles in Nat’s jaw stood out like bands of iron. “My mother was a soldier.”
“And your father?” Hill asked. “A firefighter? No. A police officer.”
Nat said nothing and Hill nodded, sadly.
“My dad was a cop too,” he said. “He was killed in the line of duty after patrolling a neighborhood in Dallas for twenty-five years. I didn’t really know my mom. Your parents were killed trying to protect you. Weren’t they?”
Nat nodded, uncertain. A line of sweat was breaking out on her brow.
“They gave you an amazing gift,” he said. “Why would you reject it now?”
Her hand began to tremble and tears had started to form at the corners of her eyes. Nat gritted her teeth to hold them back, but they came anyway. Hill eased the boy into the crowd and then waved them all back to a safe distance. He took a step closer to Nat.
“Kill me if you want to kill me,” he said. “The Path will go on.”
As if on cue, the canvas walls shook like they were caught in a sudden gust. A jet flew overhead and then another. I slipped closer to Nat, my eyes on her thumb as it hovered over the trigger.
“Would your family want you to die defending a world that was already gone?”
Nat’s fingers went pale around the metal cylinder. Her thumb rose over the trigger.
“I don’t give a damn about the world.”
I leapt out of the crowd and hit Nat hard, throwing my arms around her waist and knocking us into a pile on the floor. There were screams above us and a rush of bodies. Nat struggled to get out of my grip, finally managing to lift her hand free and bring it up between us. The trigger flashed. Her thumb fell toward it, but I wrenched it out of her hand before she could press it.
Hands fell on my arms and back and I went flying away from her. A black mass of security grabbed Nat and pulled her away while she thrashed, eyes wild, screaming.
“What did you do?! What did you do?!”
The soldiers tossed me aside and I crashed into the floor on the other side of the Lighthouse. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me up, and I suddenly found myself staring into the wryly smiling face of Nathan Hill.
“My hero,” he said.
A soldier appeared at Hill’s side. “Sir, the Feds are heating up at the front. If they know you’re here—”
“Take the girl to Shrike with us,” he said. “We’ll talk to her there. Our hero is coming with us too, so make room.”
“Yes, sir!”
Hill clapped me on the back. “Can’t let anything happen to my rescuer, can I?”
Another soldier appeared to hustle us off toward the exit. The battle sounds outside were louder now and closer. I looked over my shoulder as we ran. Rhames and the other security guards had Nat on her knees, her robe and bomb vest stripped off, her hands cuffed behind her back. Her eyes burned through the air at me. I turned and followed Hill.
A line of vehicles was idling behind the Lighthouse — two Humvees with .50 cals on top and a Stryker armored personnel carrier. A soldier patted me down thoroughly, then pushed me into the back of the Stryker. I settled onto a bench and watched out the open hatch as the horizon north of Kestrel lit up with tracer fire and the glare from artillery strikes. A flight of Apaches and Kiowas spun up and lifted off their pads, angling out toward the front.
Hill conferred with a group of soldiers just out of earshot. He talked to them quietly and slowly, turning his attention to each in turn. Behind them, Rhames and a scrum of soldiers dragged a bound Nat
into an armored Humvee. I imagined her sitting in the back of it, a would-be assassin surrounded by soldiers who looked at her target as only one step removed from God. Hill told them he wanted to talk to her, but that would only keep her alive a little while longer. My plan had bought us some time but if we were going to get out of this, I had to stay focused.
Once Nat was locked away, Rhames broke off from the group and came toward Hill. I pushed myself into a dark corner, out of sight.
Had Rhames recognized me? And if he had, would saving Hill’s life be enough to keep me and Nat alive until I could get to the next part of my plan?
The back hatch of the Stryker slammed shut. I looked up to find Nathan Hill was sitting on a bench directly across from me. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands, surprisingly thin and small, were clasped in front of him. Scars stretched from his knuckles up into his sleeve.
“So,” Hill said with his ever-present, gentle smile. “Why don’t you tell me about Benjamin Quarles.”
24
I stared at him, openmouthed, without words.
“Sergeant Rhames told me his version. I’d like to hear yours.”
Anything I said could cause those hands clasped in front of him to reach out and take me by the throat. I grasped for a lie but nothing came.
“Callum?”
“I… found a dog,” I said. “Quarles was going to kill him. Me too.”
“And so you killed Quarles first.”
I swallowed back a dry spot in my throat and nodded.
“How did you feel?” he asked. “After you killed him?”
I saw Quarles lying there on his belly and smelled the sunbaked dust of the market mixing with the metallic stink of his blood.
“Sick,” I said.
“But later? After that had passed.”
Hill waited, but no words came.
“You knew you had done the right thing,” Hill said. “Didn’t you? Rhames told me a little about the man. The things they found out about him once he was gone. He was so far off Path he never should have been in that place. People like that” — Hill looked toward the back of the Stryker, his eyes far away — “my father was a shoe salesman, and to relax after a long day at the shop, he liked to garden.”
Hill saw my look and chuckled, caught.
“Yes. It’s true. I lied to the girl with the explosives who was trying to kill me. There was a vacant lot near the house where I grew up. It had been an old basketball court, I think, only then it was just cracked concrete and trash, and Dad decided that the neighborhood would be better if it was a garden. He was a good gardener, but his biggest problem was weeds. He’d poison them, but they’d always come back, choking off everything he had planted. Eventually he had to get down on his knees and tear every one of them out by the roots with his bare hands.”
The blue of Hill’s eyes seemed to pulse in the dim light, binding us together.
“Is that true, sir?”
Hill smiled. “Does it matter?”
The Stryker shook as it took another hill.
“Good men try to do good things,” he said. “Great nations try to make the lives of their people better, but there are weeds that hold them back. Weeds like Mr. Quarles. Are we supposed to value the weeds above the garden?”
I kept my eyes steady on Hill’s and slowly shook my head.
“But it wasn’t just that,” Hill said. “Was it? Why you left, I mean.”
“No.”
“Mr. Rhames said Captain Monroe was about to make you take part in the Choice.”
The Stryker shook from an explosion nearby and then accelerated. Hill didn’t even flinch. I dug my hand into the bench beneath me to steady myself.
“Stupid,” Hill said. “The Choice is necessary, but it’s not a place for children. I don’t blame you for protecting yourself against a monster, Callum. I don’t blame you for running, either. Sometimes I think you have to stray far from your Path in order to find your way back again. It’s a truth not many people understand, but you do. Don’t you?”
There were helicopters above us now, at least three, flying low. The Stryker strained up a hill, then fell onto a roadway, and the ride went smooth and fast. Hill was waiting. I said that I did.
Hill reached across and took my hand in his. His grip was strong and firm. My fingertips lay along the waxy plain of his scars.
“You were sent to me in a time of need, Cal. I can’t repay you for my life, but if there’s anything I can offer you, tell me what it is and it’s yours.”
This was it. I knew I should play the selfless novice and deny him at first, but there was no time for that.
“The girl’s name is Natalie,” I said. “We came to Kestrel at the same time. You were right. Her parents had just been killed. She was in pain, confused. The Feds took advantage of her. They made her do this. She can find the Path. I know it. Please spare her life.”
“She’s been in contact with the Feds, Callum. She has to talk. Tell us whatever she knows about their plans.”
“I can talk to her,” I said. “She’ll tell us everything she knows.”
“And she has to choose,” he said. “She may have done it before coming to Kestrel, but she needs to make a real choice for the Path. An honest one.”
Somehow I managed to not let my eyes slip from Hill’s.
“She will,” I said. “I promise.”
• • •
The Stryker came to rest and the hatch fell. The war was far enough away that I could only hear an occasional thump, like a book falling from a shelf. I searched for the Humvee carrying Nat, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found.
We were parked outside a low concrete building, one of many that were huddled within a tall perimeter fence. Streetlights glowed around us. I could see signs of an old battle. Charred walls and broken windows. I guessed that Shrike must have been an old Fed base the Path took over as it advanced.
The soldiers swarmed Hill as he moved from one to the next, taking in information and issuing orders. Rhames stood on the outer ring of the group, glaring at me, but once Hill spoke with him, he turned away and didn’t look back.
“Callum,” Hill said, returning to me with a heavily freckled soldier. “Sergeant Parker here will get you something to eat and then take you to have your talk with the girl. You’ll report to me when you’re done.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, falling easily into the crisp obedience of my days at Cormorant.
Hill flew up a set of concrete stairs and was gone, leaving me with Parker.
“This way, Private.”
“I’m just a novice,” I said as I followed him up the stairs and inside.
“Well, looks like when you save the president’s life, you jump to the head of the line. Congratulations. Come on, I’ll grab you a uniform and show you to the mess. You missed dinner, but I’m sure they can find a hero of the Path something to eat.”
I had to hustle to keep up with him. Hero of the Path. All I could do was ignore it and stay focused. Parker and I weaved through a stream of soldiers, most of whom were wearing more stripes and stars than anyone I had ever seen. You could feel purpose sparking off the place like a live wire. They all knew they were about to win.
“Here you go.”
Parker held out a stack of camouflage and a pair of boots. A private’s stripes hovered over the Path insignia on the arm of the shirt. I hesitated, knowing I should reach out and take them but unable to do it.
“Let’s move, Private. Latrine is that way. I’ll give you five.”
I took the clothes out of Parker’s hands and pushed through the latrine door. The bathroom was empty and stark, smelling of bleach and soap. I dressed as fast as I could, struggling with the awkwardness of my cast. I moved my good hand through my unkempt hair, trying to smooth it back and match the men I had seen in the hallways outside.
When I was done, I stared at the strange figure in the mirror. A flash of gold winked and I reached up to touch the pin on my collar, a s
un bisected by a single line. There it was again, that feeling of the present rushing into the past like two rivers into one.
Parker banged on the door. I knelt by my old clothes and dug through them until I found Bear’s collar. I stuffed it in my pocket and then stepped out of the latrine.
As Parker and I made our way down the hall through the masses, I walked faster, my shoulders squaring to match the others. The mess was empty except for a few novices moving from table to table, cleaning up plates and glasses from dinner. Silverware clattered as it dropped into their trays. Parker sat me down at the end of a table and returned a moment later with a tray full of meat, corn bread, and green beans.
“Real Texas barbecue,” Parker said. “President Hill insists on it everywhere we go. Some of us think that’s what the whole war is really about: bringing proper beef barbecue to the heathen masses. You have fifteen minutes for chow. I’ll be waiting down that hall in the third office when you’re done.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and then Parker was gone.
I drained the glass of milk next to my plate in one gulp, then lifted my fork and poked at the glistening pile of meat. Real Texas barbecue. Just looking at it made me ill, but I forced it down, watching as the novices scrubbed and polished the mess. It was hard to believe that an hour north, an entire world was slipping away.
“Are you done with that, sir?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I pushed the tray toward the novice’s hand, but the tray and everything on it crashed onto the linoleum floor. Shards of glass glittered amid the charred pile of beef. I looked to see if the novice was okay and was met with a rush of vertigo. The room spun around the young novice’s face and I sat there, mouth open, fingers splayed weakly on the plastic tabletop.
“James?”
25
I knelt by the table and helped James gather the shattered dishes into a bin he carried. He reached for a piece of glass and it pricked the tip of his finger.
“Careful,” I warned.