The Commandment

by Kittrell, Anna;

  “Good thing I like purple,” Briar said.

  Harper raised her eyebrows. “You won’t for long.”

  “Do the colors serve a purpose?”

  Harper sniffed the liquid in her cup and set it back onto the table. “Makes it easier for them to keep track of us. The fleshcards track what’s happening on the inside, and the color coding helps them decipher what’s happening on the outside.”

  Harper pointed to a group of women in red clothing seated in the neighboring section. “If one of the rubies falls down in a seizure, they’ll know immediately what experimental drug or procedure was performed on her. All of the reds receive the same treatment on the same day. They’ll also know to watch the other reds, in case another one has a reaction. That’s the way it is with all of the colors.”

  Briar gazed at the women, some young like her, others elderly like Harper, several in between. Some appeared healthy, others not so much. More than a few displayed obvious handicaps. All seemed to travel by twos—younger with older—as Harper had said.

  “So many colors… I feel like I’ve fallen into a giant bag of fruit chews.” Briar widened her eyes at the thickening stream of women flooding the room. “All of those scrubs.” She shivered. “You’d think the ARC could display a little more imagination.”

  “Keeping it simple,” Harper said. “No buttons or zippers. No specifics for women or men. All the clothing is the same, just different sizes.”

  “Where are the men?”

  “The east wing, in a color-coded nightmare of their own. Experimentation is much harsher for the men. The so called ‘treatment’ is more aggressive.” She pushed her cup to the side, and with a you’ll thank me later expression, did the same to Briar’s. “There are far less men than women at the ARC. Only one quarter of the population is male. And, in case you’re wondering, females are female here, and males are male. Seems to be the only biblical principal the ARC adheres to. No switching genders back and forth and nothing in between. We’re segregated by our DNA and sorted by the color of our scrubs.”

  “Why are the men so outnumbered?”

  “The powers that be are trying to figure that out. One theory is that traditional female roles such as motherhood cause women to be more susceptible to the ‘god concept.’ That believing in an Almighty nurturer is triggered hormonally—a byproduct of the mothering instinct. The hormonal-driven notion of God strengthens the Agathi, enabling them to resist SAP.” She narrowed her eyes. “You and I both know that’s hogwash.”

  Briar smiled and thanked the woman who set a purple tray before her, and wondered why. This place was the enemy—a den of the devil. Why was she always so darned nice to everyone? She leaned forward and sniffed the colorless food. “Smells like disinfectant.”

  “Sodium hypochlorite.”

  “What’s that? Some kind of high-powered preservative?” She poked at a pallid orange wedge that jiggled like gelatin.

  “Bleach. They bleach the food, to get out anything that’s good for the brain. They’re trying to starve our Agathi.”

  Briar dropped her fork to the tray.

  “The only reason they keep this poison in actual food form, is so they can tell the human rights groups and the family members that we’re served vegetables, fruit, and protein. They can provide proof of the pantry’s inventory and take pre-bleach photographs. Otherwise, we’d be swallowing pills three times daily, and they wouldn’t need this kaleidoscope of a dining hall.”

  The older woman couldn’t be serious. Briar leaned closer and raised an eyebrow. “Rumors?”

  “Nope. Heard it right from the horse’s mouth. One of the cooks developed a conscience and refused to soak the strawberries in the bleach bath. She left the kitchen, marched to the middle of the cafeteria, and climbed on a table there in the blue section—still wearing her hairnet and plastic apron.” Harper pointed a crooked finger toward the center of the room. “She stood on that table and said the OLG made the cooks bleach the food to diminish the nutrients, and that she wasn’t doing it anymore—told us all about it at the top of her lungs. She warned us not to eat another bite, and promised to have the ARC investigated. Then she announced her resignation.”

  “Wow.” Briar gazed at the blue table, picturing the scenario. “Did she follow through with her threats?”

  The older woman shook her head. “The OLG would never let that happen.”

  Briar frowned. “Where is she now? Does anybody know?”

  Harper squinted and craned her neck. “That’s her, right over there in the orange section. The one with the buzz cut.”

  Every cell in Briar’s body iced over. “She’s—a resident?”

  “Yep. Hasn’t stepped foot in the kitchen since, that I know of.”

  “And you’re certain that’s the same woman—the cook?” It couldn’t be true. “No offense, but are you sure you’re remembering correctly?”

  Harper turned her gaze slowly away and whispered into the ear of the old woman seated next to her.

  The woman threw a cautious glance toward the orange section and nodded. “Oh, yes. That’s her,” she whispered. “The cook that told us there was bleach in the food.” She nodded, her eyes bright blue sapphires in a sea of wrinkles. “Doesn’t talk much these days. Doesn’t climb up on tabletops, either.”

  A middle-aged woman nudged the older lady’s shoulder. “Hush, Maddie. Don’t talk about it. You’ll get us into trouble,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Ms. Ross, please, don’t encourage her.” She gave Harper a stern glare.

  “I apologize,” Harper said. She turned to Briar, wearing an I told you so smirk. “The dinner roll and butter are safe tonight.” She gave the tray a sniff. “But don’t touch the fruit or the beans. And definitely don’t drink the water.”

  Briar smeared the small pat of butter on top of her roll. “You can tell the contaminated food from the safe food. You know what goes on in the men’s wing. And something tells me that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” She set the bread down and leaned toward Harper. “How do you know so much?”

  Harper’s gaze wandered the room then returned to Briar’s. “Let’s just say I stumbled across a portal that led to a whole lot of secrets. When the opportunity presents itself, I’ll show you.”

  Harper winked, and nostalgia tugged Briar’s heart with a thousand strings. She felt as if Granna Grace were seated directly across from her. She nibbled her bread, unable to peel her gaze from those faded blue eyes, now lit with a mischievous sparkle.

  “Attention, please. Dinner’s over. It’s time for showers. You know the drill,” an orderly called from a black megaphone with the ARC’s bronze lion emblazoned on the side. “Blue table, dump your trays and line up, followed by purple, and so on.”

  Briar deposited the still-full cups, napkins, and silverware onto her tray, tucked Harper’s tray underneath, and made her way to the trashcan. “Let me help you,” she said, returning in time to ease Harper to her feet. She maneuvered the walker in front of her. “Lead on,” she said, gesturing for the older lady to take the first step.

  “All right, but you’d better keep up.” Harper gave an ornery grin and took a slow-motion step toward the line forming in the doorway.

  ~*~

  “…twenty-three, twenty-four. Stop!” an attendant ordered, halting the line at the entryway, behind Briar. Harper, Briar, and the previous twenty-two women were ushered to a long hallway where they were told to remove their scrubs and toss them into a gigantic hamper on wheels.

  “You can’t be serious.” Briar locked eyes with the stocky attendant with the spikey hairdo.

  “Dead serious,” she answered, narrowing her gaze.

  “This is outrageous. You can’t possibly expect us to strip naked in public.” Briar crossed her arms. “What if we refuse?”

  “We? Looks like you’re the only one refusing.”

  Briar glanced quickly to the left and right. With the exception of her and the orderly, everyone was naked. Heat crawled up her ne
ck, catching her cheeks and ears on fire. With rubber arms, she pulled her top over her head then yanked down her pants. She stooped, gathering her apparel from the floor as well as Harper’s, then chucked the clothes into the hamper. She’d never been so humiliated. Not even Reid’s public thrashing of her at the hot air balloon ball came close.

  Two female attendants supervised the naked pilgrimage from the changing hall to the shower area. “How did you get undressed so fast?” Briar whispered to Harper as she helped scoot her walker along the concrete floor.

  Harper shrugged. “Practice. From back in my younger days.”

  “Don’t tell me you were a stripper,” Briar frowned and blinked at the same time.

  The old woman cackled and shook her head. “Employee at a children’s theme park. I played three different characters, and wore three different costumes. Earned the nickname Hurry-up Harper.”

  Briar grinned from ear to ear. “You’re into cos-play! I should’ve known.”

  “All on deck!” One of the attendants blared through her megaphone. Briar helped Harper to the center of a huge floor tiled with large black squares containing the ARC lion’s outline. She scanned the walls and ceiling, searching for a showerhead, but saw none.

  “Choose a tile and stay on it. Soapy water spray will last one minute, rinse water will last two. Ready. One…two…three.”

  Briar cringed, expecting a cold blast. Instead, warm, sudsy water fell like rain from an invisible water source. She squeezed her eyes shut too late, anticipating the burn that never came. How thoughtful for the ARC to provide tear-free soap to the women they forced to strip naked and cluster-bathe. The people in charge must be absolute angels.

  The clear water began to fall, rinsing the soap from Briar’s hair and face. She tried not to stare at the other women, but as if by magnet, her gaze was drawn to the scars that puckered the skin of so many. Everywhere she looked, valleys of pink or pale silver ran down spines, trailed over necks, and sliced across abdomens. And Harper…beautiful, sweet, Harper. Hers were the worst.

  Briar turned from the scalpel cuts crisscrossing the old woman’s spine like mountain switchbacks. Tears hotter than the rinse water stung her eyes. How could this be happening? They were human beings. Flesh, blood, and bone. Their only crime—a predisposed ability to believe in God. Something no one had any control over.

  No…something she had no control over.

  Briar’s thoughts ran a marathon back to Stone Labs.

  True, there was absolutely nothing she could do about her SAP-resistant Agathi. But someone could. Lukas Stone sure as blazes could have. He’d had the power to heal her completely, if he’d wanted to. Yet here she stood, naked and soaking wet in a room full of scarred women, wondering when it would be her turn to go under the knife.

  ~*~

  “Nice outfit,” Briar teased as she helped Harper onto her cot.

  The older woman clicked her tongue. “Wish I could say the same for yours. That purple leaves something to be desired.” She grimaced as Briar lifted her legs onto the thin mattress. “Can you help me onto my side?”

  “Sure.” She fluffed the flat pillow as best she could and carefully tugged Harper’s shoulder and hip, rolling her gently. “That OK?”

  “Very nice. Thank you.” She nodded her head on the pillow. “Oh—one more thing, if you don’t mind. Pour a little water into that plastic cup and hand it here.”

  Briar grasped the bottle of water from the nightstand, unscrewed the lid, and filled the purple cup halfway. “Here you are,” she said, offering her a sip.

  The old woman put her hands to her mouth and plopped something into the cup. “The little tablets are in the nightstand drawer.”

  Briar peered in the cup as she returned it to the bedside table. Harper’s dentures smiled at her. “My, what nice teeth you have,” she teased.

  “Thank you.” Harper gave a wide, toothless grin.

  Briar found the effervescent tablets and dropped one into the cup. She spread a blanket that was little more than a sheet over her friend’s twisted form, and then slipped into her own cot. It felt too early for bedtime, but she had nothing better to do. She’d barely covered up before the lights switched off. “What happened?” She shot straight up in the bed.

  “Automatic timer. It must be nine o’clock,” Harper answered from the dark.

  “Lights out at nine?” Briar settled her head back on the hard pillow. “Little early, don’t you think?”

  “You could do what my prior roommate did, and read under the covers by the light of your fleshcard—if you can figure out how. There’s a trick to it. She tried to teach me, but I couldn’t figure it out. ’Course, there’s the problem of having nothing to read—unless you read that anti-Christian garbage they call literature. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Roommate? The thought hadn’t dawned on Briar. Of course, Harper must’ve had a roommate before. Someone younger, to help take care of her.

  “Where is your previous roommate?”

  Her cot creaked, but she didn’t answer. Minutes passed. Briar assumed Harper had fallen asleep.

  “They walked her from this room a week ago, and she never returned.”

  Briar propped herself on an elbow and stared blindly in the direction of Harper’s cot. “Maybe she was cured and released. Her Agathi may have finally responded to treatment.”

  Harper sighed weakly. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I don’t believe in lying. Residents never go home. I’ve looked in the files. I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes.”

  “Show me.” There must be a logical explanation to where Harper’s roommate and the other absent residents had gone.

  Briar waited for a response, once again wondering if the old woman had fallen asleep. “Harper?” she whispered.

  The old woman sighed, louder than before. “Tomorrow. But you’ll have to say whatever I tell you to.”

  Briar fake-gasped. “Ms. Harper, are you asking me to lie?”

  “Don’t get smart.”

  Briar grinned in the darkness.

  “Now let’s pray together before we go to sleep.”

  Sincerely, beautifully, Harper prayed to God. She thanked Him for His Son, for His forgiveness, and for bringing Briar into her life. She asked Him to lend His protection to both of them, as well as to the other residents.

  Not since childhood had Briar felt such peace—not since Granna Grace held her hand in prayer.

  She was fast asleep before Harper reached Amen.

  22

  “I was beginning to think you’d moved.” Lukas stepped around the wall, into the dark entryway.

  Derby yelped and switched on the light. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Strangest thing—I slid the key card you gave me years ago into the card reader on your front door, and presto. The light turned green.” Lukas moved between Derby and the door. “My turn to ask a question.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Derby cut in. His voice shook as his eyes glazed with tears. “I didn’t want to do it. I like Miss Briar—I never wanted to hurt her.”

  “Is she at the ARC?” His blood stopped pumping as he waited for the answer he already knew.

  Derby clamped his hands over his eyes and nodded. “I dropped her off at the landing strip outside of town this morning. The ARC reps flew in and took her back to Montana.”

  Lukas’s blood resumed pumping. Hotter and faster than ever, it spewed through his veins. “Filthy, spineless, worm. You used our birthday surprise to hand her over to the enemy.” He glared at Derby, his eyes straining against the sockets. “Look at me!”

  Derby slid his hands from his eyes. “I had to!” he sobbed. “Reid said she’d come with me if I followed through. I love her Lukas—you know I’ve always loved her.”

  “Reid? What are you talking about?” he tore a hand through his hair. “Stop blubbering so I can understand you.”

  “New Mexico. Caster promised to relocate me there.”

  Caster. Luka
s bristled. He looked forward to scraping that pile of gunk from the bottom of his shoe someday soon. Right in front of Father.

  “Reid said she’d come to New Mexico with me, if I delivered Briar to the airport. She said she loves me.” Derby’s voice cracked as he broke down crying again.

  Lukas blinked, unable to believe what he was hearing. Derby was truly insane. He couldn’t possibly believe Reid cared for him.

  “But it was a lie!” He scuffed a boot over the floor. “I overheard the two of them talking at the lab. They didn’t hear me walk in. Reid was asking Caster where you were. He said you were probably at my place, taking a piece of my hide.”

  “It’s on my to-do list.”

  “Listening to Caster question my whereabouts like that, I almost barged in, thinking they were having an affair. But then Caster began teasing her about how she always keeps tabs on you, and how she follows you around like a teenage groupie.” Derby’s lip trembled beneath his red nose. “And then Reid said her feelings for you were no secret. She’d loved you since the beginning, and she didn’t care if Caster liked it or not. She said Caster had better start treating her nicer because she would one day be his sister-in-law.”

  Lukas’s stomach rolled at the thought.

  “Reid started talking about how she wanted to take things into her own hands with Briar. But Caster said no. He’d spoken with Maxwell Brown, the ARC’s director of operations. Brown would handle her, and make sure she never came out.” Derby’s breath hitched. “That’s when I got scared—when they talked about what they planned to do to Miss Briar. That’s when I knew I’d been tricked. The ARC ain’t some kind of resort or a fancy hotel. It’s a bad place.”

  Lukas swatted disturbing images from his mind before they could stick. “What else did they say?” he barked, furious that Derby let this happen. Sure, the man was sorry now, but that didn’t change the fact it was his fault the scheme was executed. Of all people to place his trust in—Caster and Reid? How could he be so stupid? Lukas always heard love was blind. Until now, he hadn’t realized it had no senses whatsoever—or that it showed up with a big ole heap of crazy strapped to its back.