Page 65: Campers will swim wearing the swimming attire provided.
Page 65: Boys and girls are to use separate sections of the lake while swimming.
Page 65: Campers are not allowed to look at members of the opposite sex while swimming.
Page 68: Campers will not self-fornicate.
Page 70: Campers are to report any lustful thoughts to a responsible adult and accept prescribed treatment for said thoughts.
Page 76: Campers are to report any rule infractions by other campers to a responsible adult. Failure to do so will result in shared consequences with the offender.
“Sure is a lot of boner-prevention going on here,” Daniel observed, setting his rulebook down with finality. “I’ve had it.”
“Faust!” Caroline gasped, wide-eyed, holding her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
But Rebecca laughed openly. “You really are going to need to learn to put a sock in it. And I thought I was bad.”
“You’re not bad,” Daniel said, staring ahead, unsmiling. “You just don’t know how good you are.”
The comment took her off guard. She had no idea how to respond. Eventually she leaned in and nudged him with her shoulder. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you a little,” he answered. “And I know bad people. I know them real well.”
How bad? How’d you end up here, Daniel?
But a different question weighed more heavily on her mind, one she didn’t ask Caroline to write down. She was afraid to bring it up again, even though she was sure her friends were thinking about it too. The rule book had said nothing about it.
They sat together, their rulebooks and their questions discarded in the grass, and watched the sheep in the valley below them. “You don’t think they’ll really kill him?” Caroline said. “Asher, I mean. At the Ceremony of the Lamb?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “I can’t think why they would do it, if he’s the best they’ve got. I’m not putting it past them, though.”
“Maybe it’ll be like the story of Isaac,” Rebecca said. Then, for Daniel’s benefit, she said, “In the bible, Abraham had a son named Isaac—”
“Who eventually married a woman named Rebecca,” Caroline chipped in.
“Spoiler,” Rebecca said. “Who’s telling the story here? Anyway, long before that, God commanded Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. But it turned out he was only testing Abraham—getting the measure of his faith, you know? At the last second, with Abraham all ready to do it, knife in the air, God spared Isaac and sent a lamb to be sacrificed in his place. So maybe Asher will be like Isaac. And go home at the end, since he’s turning eighteen.”
Daniel shook his head. “No one said anything about Asher going home.”
“Still, it’s possible. Maybe he’ll take a job here, like Mr. and Mrs. Scruggs.”
But thinking of her mom and dad, she doubted her own words.
“What can we do about it, anyway?” Caroline asked.
“Nothing,” Rebecca said, frustrated, plucking grass. “We don’t even know anything.”
****
And they didn’t learn much from their counselors either—neither about the Ceremony of the Lamb, nor about the evening punishments. In fact, Mr. Lightfoot and Mrs. Harrell asked almost all of the questions, quizzing them for a solid thirty minutes before finally deciding the new campers had done their due diligence and were free to make a few queries of their own.
By then Rebecca was in no mood. She allowed Caroline to read from the question list. She listened but contributed nothing on her own. Neither did Daniel. The best thing they had learned was that they were permitted to clean the blood from their faces prior to evening punishments.
All she wanted was to get away. They had to be back in the chapel in little more than two hours. It was starting to rain, and she didn’t fancy running pell-mell with Caroline half a mile across the complex to dinner through what promised to be a heavy storm.
No one was telling them anything, not even Vex, who Daniel had said seemed like a nice enough kid. They’d have to learn it all through experience. And they’d have to treat it all like a holy, transcendent revelation if they intended to win the trust of the other campers, the counselors, the Threshers, Mrs. Black, and the Reverend.
If anyone had given any hint as to what was to come, it had been him.
His sermon had been all about absolution, which reminded Rebecca of her tally on the cafeteria wall. A true Christian had to understand the cost Jesus had paid, the pain and suffering He had endured for the sake of the world. Jesus, who was himself sinless, took on all the sins of every man, woman, and child who had ever lived or would live and had been punished in their place. What must it have been like to have accounted, through his very blood, for so many billions of sinners? What unimaginable agony must it have been?
“In our atonement,” the Reverend had said, his teeth gleaming in the dim, stained-glass glow, “we must come to understand our share in His suffering, or we can never fully appreciate His gift. By His stripes we are healed, but by our own, we learn.”
It’s some kind of corporal punishment, Rebecca thought, beginning the dash to It’s Not Manna with Daniel and Caroline. So—the girl gets her knuckles strapped bloody and the boy won’t be able to sit straight for a few days. Maybe that’s all it will be.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bearing Witness
Rebecca pulled open the door.
“Ponchos!” Gab declared, emerging from the thunder-less rainstorm outside back into the cabin. She was wearing one of them and had three more folded over the crook of her arm. They were bright red instead of transparent, more like raincoats than real ponchos. “Mission accomplished, Philis!”
“Thanks,” Philis said, taking hers and tossing the others to Rebecca and Caroline. “Really should have been a serf errand, but I don’t think these two would have been able to find the storage building in this mess.”
“Happy to be of assistance,” Gab said brightly, stomping and shaking off water in the doorway. “It’s crazy out there. Lots of angels crying tonight.”
Rebecca pulled up her hood and peered through the window. The dirt road was swimming. There was actually a current of water leading back to the quad. And yet she didn’t think she or Caroline would have had much trouble finding the place. There was a steady stream of campers either running to the storage building or back from it.
Splash city, she thought, remembering her bare feet. Wonder if the Reverend will have boots on.
“About ready?” Philis asked.
“Depends on what you mean,” Caroline said, sharing a look with Rebecca. “I guess.”
You can’t say anything while it happens, Philis had told them while Gab had been away. You have to be dead quiet, got it? In time you’ll understand why we do this. For tonight, trust in God. They’ll be perfectly fine in a few days. Wiser too.
“Hard to be ready for something when you don’t know what it is.”
You cannot look away, she’d said. You must bear witness, or they’ll drag you right up there with them. Keep your eyes open. Don’t even blink too much if you can help it.
Flashes of white and golden light, and a popping, crackling noise—electric, but not lightning. Rebecca squinted, peering beyond the main entrance to the fence. There. The fence was sparking under the rainfall.
Reminding Rebecca, and everyone else, that there was no escape.
And whatever you do, Philis had said, don’t scream. Remember, this isn’t a service. It’ll be over fast, so keep it together.
“Never mind me,” Rebecca said, breaking the awkward silence her last comment had created. “Let’s go.”
They’ll be perfectly fine in a few days, she repeated to herself. Perfectly fine.
****
“Put them in for me, would you?” the Reverend asked, straightening his robes, clicking his gums and slurring his words. He handed Ruth his “biblical” teeth.
“Of course.”
<
br /> It was the most loathsome task he ever asked of her, both servile and disgusting—and also unnecessary—yet he asked her to do it all the time, as if he were incapable of performing it on his own. And there, right out on the desk where she had to look at them, were the teeth he had just taken out, his “perfect” set, again marinating in a glass of water by the computer, waiting for her to stow them properly.
She uncapped the denture paste and smeared the adhesive gel onto the teeth. She squeezed his hand, patted his cheek affectionately, and waited for him to open his mouth. She would express no displeasure with her husband tonight. She very rarely did, but this evening it was of particular importance that he felt well-disposed toward her.
Ruth had a request to make of him. She felt confident she would have her way if she played him right. Her husband had a very definite skill set, but he was far from brilliant.
He opened his mouth for her, and she put in the teeth and pressed them—first the upper, then the lower—until she felt them sink into the proper alignment.
“Okay,” she said, letting go. “Bite.”
He bit down, clenching his jaws in silence.
He was dressed for the ancient world as well, his wide-sleeved blue-and-white robe the very definition of Christ-like. He wore sandals too. There had been a time, early on, when he’d wanted to present himself with a long brown wig and fake beard, but Ruth had talked him out of that.
“You look good,” Ruth said. “Very much the part.”
He smiled, pleased with the compliment.
Ruth took that as her best opportunity. “Matthew, I need an addendum to this evening’s punishment program—a special session for Rags, the one who caused all that stir in Pennsylvania and delayed my coming home to you.”
He started to open his mouth, then stopped. The adhesive would not have set so soon.
“I’ll wait,” she said. “I’ll be quiet.”
They waited. As usual, a minute passed before he attempted an answer.
“You already gave her—” He worked his lips, testing the firmness of his dentures’ adhesive. “—a tally.” Evidently finding them nice and secure, he went on. “That was the punishment you prescribed. If you had wanted to do more, you should have done so right away, or at least indicated there would be further consequences. She has had no time to prepare—no time to pray.”
His “biblical” teeth were sturdy and more functional than his “perfect” set. People of the ancient world had surprisingly good teeth, as both secular science and True Archeology had revealed. A diet heavy in meat and low in carbs and sugar encouraged very little decay, very few cavities. But a lifetime without flossing also tended to cement teeth together, to make it hard to distinguish where one tooth began and the other ended. Also, his teeth were bright yellow. It wasn’t like the Nazarenes went in for regular polishing.
“I want to surprise her,” said Ruth. “I want her degraded. Tonight. I want her naked and beaten, screaming for our mercy in front of her friend Caroline and everyone she’s just met and in front of strangers. I want her scarred. I want her to think of me every time she looks at her own body.”
“You feel very strongly about this.”
“I told you. She gave me sarcasm and attitude at the police station in front of everyone. I promised her she would pay. Now I need to keep that promise.”
“That’s very selfish of you, Ruth. You should have checked with me first. Perhaps this is an opportunity for you to learn something.”
“No,” she replied. “It’s for the good of the island. I don’t know how, but word of her landside escapades seems to have reached the ears of several campers already. You know what will happen when they talk, how the story will change and grow. It was bad enough on the mainland. We cannot have that happen here.”
“It won’t,” he assured her. “Ruth, my love, you took an interest because you wanted her to be one of us. And as I told you before, I agree with that. Her test results were singular, unique. She’s valuable. What you are suggesting may ruin her completely.”
“She’s too stubborn to be ruined. No matter what we do. Believe me. But we can demystify her. We have to.”
“I don’t know, Ruth. We need justification. It would seem … arbitrary.”
“She will stir unrest, Matthew. She has the devil in her.”
“The campers fear us more than God or the devil, and you know it. Focus on finding the rat and how he got this information to the other campers. That’s important—far more than Rags herself.”
“Matthew,” she said, allowing a slightly seductive pout to creep into her voice, “do this for me. I work so hard. How often do I ask you for anything?”
He regarded her in silence.
I win, Rebecca had said.
“I need this, Matthew.”
“You gave her a tally,” he repeated, shaking his head. “No—don’t start. You listen to me. Tomorrow, you will give her another tally. You’ll find a reason, or someone will on your behalf. Perhaps you will give her more than one. And you will do it again the day after that. As many as you like. Based on her responses to that, then we might call for a special session, along with the prescribed punishment. But we will not break protocol.”
She didn’t answer. She could not believe Matthew was saying no to her. It was such a little thing, requiring no effort on his part.
“We will convert, not destroy. Am I understood, wife?”
She looked away from him.
“Answer me.”
“You are.”
“So,” he asked, clearly considering the matter resolved, “will you be coming tonight?”
Dare you even ask? Or are you just that stupid?
“I can’t,” she said. “More applications, Matthew.”
He sighed, disappointed.
“I need to get right on them if we’re to stay ahead of the other camps. And please don’t remind me it’s the Sabbath. That’s how we stay ahead.”
“Very well,” he answered. “Be here when I return.”
****
Daniel’s cabinmates, including Asher, left him behind when he went to get Vex.
“Go ahead,” Asher said, departing with a wink. “Help your fellow man. See you inside.”
Not doing myself any favors, ditching them on the first night. He sloshed his way along the dirt road, grateful for the poncho but wishing for a pair of galoshes. It seemed like every second step was punctuated by him stepping on a rock and nearly sliding onto his butt.
Especially since I start work with Asher tomorrow.
But Asher had seemed to approve, or so Daniel told himself.
Clomping through the entryway, he was surprised to find Vex sitting in there alone, wearing his poncho, his expression behind the sunglasses serene and expectant. “What the hell?” Daniel exclaimed. “They all just up and left you?”
“Language,” Vex said, wagging a reproving finger. “If I were a better camper, I’d have to report that. Anyway, they offered. I told them it was okay, that you were coming. But they didn’t want to wait.”
“It’s really awful out there,” Daniel said, wrapping an arm around Vex’s shoulders once he was on his feet. “Going to need to get a little closer than a guiding hand, I think. And absolutely no soloing this walk, all right?”
“You command, I obey,” Vex said, allowing Daniel to walk him out into the rain. Once their feet were in the overflow, he went on. “My, you weren’t kidding. Guess this makes our friendship official.”
“Guess it does,” Daniel replied, ushering him along as quickly as he dared. “Long as we’re such good friends, maybe you can tell me how you knew Rags was famous. And, like, what did she do?”
“Sure. Once I check with the others, the ones in charge of information.”
Daniel almost stopped. Only the downpour urged him on. He checked to his right and left, making sure no one was close enough to be listening. But just as they’d done at morning services, Daniel and Vex safely brought up the rear of
the hustling, hunched-over procession.
“They have to agree you’re okay,” Vex said. “I bet they will, since you’re also her friend.”
I’m friends with a blind kid who belongs to a secret society, and the girl I like is famous.
“Does she know about any of this? About this underground network of yours?”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Language, Vex,” Daniel admonished, nearly tripping again. If anything, Vex was surer on his feet than Daniel was and helped him steady himself. “Okay, I’ll try for something else, since no one else will spill: what am I going to see in there? How scared should I be?”
As they drew close, Daniel could make out two grownups he had never seen before. They were chatting at the double front doors, going over notes. They wore lab coats and carried briefcases.
Doctors, Daniel thought.
“In a few minutes,” Vex answered, tapping his sunglasses under his hood, “you’re going to wish you were blind like me.”
And, before they were too close, he told Daniel why.
****
Nero and Drab stood in the foyer, taking attendance with synchronized palm computers that had voice recognition. By the time Rebecca and Caroline got in line, more than half of the campers had already gone into the chapel and found a seat. There appeared to be little—if any—order to the seating for Sunday punishments, other than the stationing of adults in all of the aisle seats. For the most part, boys and girls automatically segregated themselves out of habit—but not completely.
Rebecca scanned the backs of heads, hoping to somehow identify Daniel’s, but the random nature of the seating arrangement made what would have been a difficult task impossible. If he was leading Vex, she figured he was probably running behind. Again.
“Blessings of the Lord,” Caroline said to Nero’s palm-com, and Rebecca watched the name “Wren” disappear from the preprogrammed attendance list.
The Salvation State Page 26