by Wendi Wilson
“How so?”
“They’re not using it to control the ones they love.”
“Point taken,” he said, his face contorting with some emotion I had a hard time placing. “Perhaps I could find a different set of Alts for you to practice on?”
He said it like a question, like he was leaving it up to me to choose. Bastard. He was gloating. He knew I’d never choose to work with other Alts. That would mean he’d have no further use for the triplets and he’d send them away.
“No, thank you,” I said, my teeth scraping against each other as my jaw clenched.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, a satisfied smirk twisting his lips into something ugly. “I need you to step it up. No complaints. No excuses. If you find yourself doubting my orders or your own abilities, I will take action.” He paused for a second to let that sink in before adding, “And you won’t like it, my dear. Of that, I assure you.”
“Understood,” I said, the pain in my jaw increasing as my teeth ground together.
“Good,” he said, his tone lightening to almost jovial. “Now that we have that settled, I want to talk to you about something.”
I didn’t respond. I just waited for him to speak, knowing he would whether I agreed to hear him out or not. My opinion counted for next to nothing in this relationship. I was like a lab rat, locked in a cage without its consent, trapped and waiting for the next experiment. I had no voice, no choice.
“I assume you’ve heard of The Divine Church of Purity?”
I snorted. “Of course, I’ve heard of the Purists. They’re a bunch of crazy extremists who want to kill children.”
“They are on the side of God and protecting his holy creations,” he said, his face darkening.
My heart skipped a beat before pounding into overdrive. I tried to keep the incredulity off my face, but I’m pretty sure I failed. I was shocked. There was no hiding it. Dr. Patton was a Purist. Or if he wasn’t, he was definitely a sympathizer.
“O-o-okay,” I said, clearing my throat before continuing without the stutter. “What about them?”
“We would like to invite you to the next service,” he said. “It’s tomorrow morning at ten.”
I was sure the “we” at the beginning of that statement was intentional, not a slip-up. He wanted me to know. He wanted everyone to know. For whatever reason, he felt it was time to come out of the proverbial closet, outing himself as a bigoted, intolerant extremist who wanted to wipe out all trace of the Alts.
I was suddenly afraid. Very afraid.
“Maybe you should go.”
My head whipped to the side, my jaw dropping open at Jett’s statement. We were in Wyatt’s room, sitting cross-legged in a circle on his big bed. I’d just finished telling them about my meeting with their uncle. Jett’s suggestion came after several moments of stunned silence.
“No way,” I said, rejecting his words out of hand. “I am not going to some crazy cult meeting.”
“He’s right.” Wyatt said, shocking me. “You could be our way in. Our eyes and ears to find out what Uncle Earl is up to.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Beckett beat me to the punch. “I don’t like it,” he said, shaking his head. “It could be dangerous. Despite her differences, Savanna is an Alt.”
And Purists want to wipe Alts from the face of the Earth, I thought. I was sure the boys were thinking it, too.
“But Uncle Earl wouldn’t let her get hurt,” Jett said. “He needs her for…whatever it is he’s trying to accomplish. Maybe, if she goes, she can find out what that is.”
He was right. I didn’t want to admit it, and I really didn’t want to go to a Purist meeting, but if there was a chance we could get some answers, I had to try. We’d been coming up empty for weeks. I had to try.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“Savanna,” Beckett started, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.
“I know,” I said, answering his unspoken doubts, “but if this is the only way to find out what Dr. Patton is up to, I have to do it. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
I pressed my palm to Beckett’s knee, brushing it up his thigh and back once before pulling my hand back into my own lap. He still looked worried, but his body sagged with acquiescence. He wouldn’t fight me on it.
I was going to that meeting, and I was going to get some answers.
Chapter Fourteen
“I don’t know about this, Savanna,” Mom said.
She plopped down on my bed, her eyes following me as I crossed the room to my closet. I huffed a breath as I slid clothes across the rack, looking for something suitable to wear to church.
“We talked about this last night,” I said without looking back at her. “Dr. Patton expects me to go and is coming to pick me up in half an hour.”
“I could call him and tell him you’re sick,” she offered.
I turned from the closet to face her. “Mom, I have to go. This could be the key to finding out what his endgame is. He’s proven with all his demands and threats that I’m important to him. He’s not going to let anything bad happen to me.”
“We don’t know what he’s capable of,” she said with a low voice, her eyes pleading.
I walked across the room and sat down on the bed next to her. “I’ll be careful,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “I promise.”
She squeezed my fingers before releasing them and standing. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a weak smile.
After she left, I made short work of getting ready, pulling my one pair of dress slacks from the back of my closet and pairing it with the red top my mom bought me. Pulling my long hair up in a ponytail, I smiled at my refection in the mirror. The shirt left my shoulders bare, and I hoped seeing all that skin would scandalize the crazy Purists.
Of course, I had no clue what the dress code was for one of those meetings. I knew some traditional churches required a certain way of dressing, but modern churches tended to be more lax, letting their members dress casually. Dr. Patton didn’t tell me which end of the spectrum the Purist church fell on, and honestly, I didn’t really care. It was going to be a one-time visit.
As I made my way down the hall, the doorbell rang. I rushed to answer it, eager to get out the door before Mom and Dad could try to talk me out of going again. I unlocked the deadbolts and swung the door open, revealing Dr. Patton standing on the threshold.
“Hello, my dear,” he said, inclining his head. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” I said, then turned my back on him. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” I yelled out before slipping out the door and using my key to lock it behind me.
I rushed past the doctor and headed for his car, not missing his chuckle as he followed behind me. With a beep and a flash of headlights, the doors unlocked and I pulled open the one on the passenger side and slid in. He climbed in just as my parents walked out onto the porch. I waved to them and silently urged Dr. Patton to hurry up and pull away.
“Are you running from them?” he asked, starting the car and shifting into reverse.
“Sort of,” I admitted.
“They didn’t want you to go with me, did they?”
I looked at him with an arched brow. “Of course not,” I said. “I’m an Alt, going to a meeting filled with the most zealous of Alt-haters bent on ridding the world of my kind. So, no. They don’t want me to go.”
“So much negativity,” he said, clucking his tongue. “Besides, you are different from the rest. I assure you, you’ll come to no harm today.”
I heard the implication in his words, his use of the word “today” inferring that my future safety was not guaranteed. I ignored it. I just needed to get through that one meeting. I wouldn’t be going back. Ever.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. Dr. Patton drove us to the outskirts of Savannah, heading down an old dirt road with mossy trees lining each side. My eyes roved from one side to the other, searching for signs that the
area was inhabited, but there was nothing. Not a car. Not a house. Nothing.
I was starting to get a little nervous when the trees thinned out on the right side, giving way to a large warehouse-type structure in an open field. Dr. Patton slowed the car and pulled into the drive, parking in a lot filled with cars.
I looked around, unease creeping up my spine. I’d expected a small gathering in a basement somewhere. As I climbed from the car, my eyes drifted across the lot. There had to be more than fifty cars parked there, nearly all of them expensive models that most people in our town could only dream of owning.
What is this place? I wondered as I followed Dr. Patton toward the entrance.
“Are we late?” I asked him, realizing there was no one else outside.
“We’re right on time,” he said, swinging open the door and striding through without holding it open for me.
I was in an old black and white episode of The Twilight Zone. That was the only feasible explanation. My grip on the door was unrelenting, my fist tightening on the handle and refusing to let go as I stood half in, half out of the doorway. Every eye in the room, with the exception of the good doctor’s, was on me.
It looked like the traditional version of a church on the inside, with rows of long, wooden pews set up in rows, an empty aisle running up the middle. Dr. Patton walked with purposeful strides up that aisle, not looking back to make sure I followed. My eyes scanned the room as I stepped the rest of the way inside. There had to be at least a hundred people crowded onto the pews.
As Dr. Patton made his way up onto the raised dais in the front, the crowd turned, nearly as one, to face the front. It just kept getting weirder and weirder. The squeaking of my shoes against the linoleum floor echoed loudly in the silence, making me cringe. I took special care to pick up my feet and take slow, soft steps as I looked for an empty seat.
People were packed into the long benches like sardines. I scanned each row for a clear spot as I passed, but there were none. I looked up at Dr. Patton, who wore an impatient scowl. He nodded to the front row on my left and, as I watched, the people sitting there got up and moved around the room, squeezing into other pews.
I kept my head down as I quickened my pace and took a seat on the empty bench. I wasn’t sure why they all moved. It wasn’t like I needed the entire bench to myself. I was being treated like a pariah, like…they all knew what I was.
No…
“Good morning, Flock.”
Dr. Patton’s words cut off my train of thought, bringing my attention to him. He was smiling as his gaze kissed on the congregation.
“Good morning, Brother Earl,” the crowd chanted in perfect unison before complete silence fell once again.
Total Twilight Zone moment.
“For the Lord loves the just and will not forsake his faithful ones. Wrongdoers will be completely destroyed; the offspring of the wicked will perish.”
“Amen,” the crowd replied in a creepy monotone.
“Psalm 37:28,” Dr. Patton continued, “the cornerstone of our faith. Those scientists, so-called learned men, went against God and all his teachings in attempting to modify the Lord’s most glorious creation…us.” He punctuated the last word by waving his arm across the crowd. “The XRT-90 drug was a sacrilege and bound to fail. You cannot improve perfection, and we are perfect, created in His image.”
Shouts of agreement echoed around the cavernous room and I fought the urge to look over my shoulder. These people are crazy, I thought, trying to keep my face neutral should Dr. Patton look over at me. He was twisting the words of the Bible to suit his own beliefs.
“The men and women who participated in the drug trials,” he continued once the crowd quieted, “are wrongdoers and will face their fate when Judgement Day comes. That is not our duty.”
“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” the crowd chanted.
Were they for real? They didn’t think they were being judgmental?
“The offspring, however,” Dr. Patton, said in an angry voice, spit flying from his mouth, “must be dealt with.”
His eyes fell on me for a moment and, for the first time, I saw hatred there. A shiver ran down my spine. I was sitting in a room filled to the brim with angry zealots who wanted to rid the world of my kind. Dr. Patton obviously couldn’t be trusted to protect me. I was wrong before. He wasn’t just a member of the Savannah Purist community.
He was their leader.
“We cannot allow these abominations to thrive and reproduce. Their existence is a blight on humanity, a slap in the face to God’s most-loved creation. They are dangerous and, if left unchecked, will one day outnumber the holy.”
He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room yet never once meeting mine. I felt, more than heard, everyone take a breath. Dr. Patton was a grade-A performer, building up the tension before continuing his sermon.
“For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be. And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect, those days will be cut short. Matthew 24:21-22.”
A chorus of shouts sounded around me again, this time with more fervor than before. The crowd had obviously heard those words before and knew what they meant. Confusion frustrated me as I tried to decipher the quote. I didn’t have to try long.
“We all know what those words mean,” Dr. Patton shouted as he paced back and forth along the dais. “The existence of the Homo Altiorems is our great tribulation. They have never existed until now and, once cut short, will never exist again. We are God’s warriors. We must do his bidding before man ceases to exist and cut…them…short.”
The last three words were said slowly and succinctly. My breath sped up, puffing in and out of my chest in short pants. My heart pounded erratically in my chest and my palms itched with sweat.
Why did I agree to come here? Why did he want me here? What are they going to do to me?
The questions zipped through my mind like streaks of lightning flying across the sky. I wished I’d never agreed to go there. That I’d at least insisted the boys come with me. Of course, after hearing all I’d heard, I was glad they hadn’t come. That crowd would’ve torn them apart.
“Spawn of the devil and his wily machinations,” Dr. Patton continued, “these Alts drink blood like the demons they emulate. They control our minds and bodies against our will, whispering words of persuasion in our ears when we least expect it.” His voice rose with anger as he spat, “My nephews, born of my own blood on their father’s side, tried to use their evil power on me, yet through the grace of God, I was spared. God protected me, as he shall protect us all.”
Shouts of “Hallelujah” and “Praise God” rung out around me and, this time, I couldn’t resist twisting in my seat to look at the crazies around me. People had their arms waving in the air, their faces turned upward with eyes close and gentle smiles on their faces. They stood, mumbles of prayers falling from their lips, as soft music began to drift from somewhere behind the stage.
They began to sing, a hymn about the greatness of God, as they filtered into the aisle and formed a line. My eyes shot back to Dr. Patton, who shuffled down the stairs holding a large chalice and a plate of crackers, the latter of which he sat on a small table beside him. He waved the first parishioner forward before picking up a cracker and placing it on her tongue. Then she sipped from the cup, wrinkling her nose slightly before walking away.
I watched as, one by one, the congregation took communion. My panic subsided as no one even looked in my direction as they passed. All eyes were on their beloved Brother Earl and his cup of wine. Or grape juice, or whatever it was he was offering them.
I leaned forward, concentrating on reading Dr. Patton’s lips. He was saying something to each person as he placed a cracker in his or her mouth, as well as when he offered the cup. I sucked at lip-reading. I tried again with no luck, getting a little frustrated.
But then
the hymn came to an end and there was a brief silence before the strains of the next song started up. In that brief silence, I heard his words.
“Body of Christ,” he said, laying a cracker on a man’s tongue. “Blood of the Savior,” he said, pressing the cup to the man’s lips. Then he wiped the rim of the cup with a black cloth and started again with the next in line.
After everyone received their communion, they all returned to their seats and continued to sing along with the music. Dr. Patton climbed the dais and placed the plate and chalice somewhere behind the curtain, he returned to the middle of the stage.
“Let us pray,” he said, and from the corner of my eye, I saw heads bow. “Dear heavenly Father, we beseech you to guide us in this most turbulent of times, to assist us in our war against the demons man has summoned to reside right alongside us, and to prepare us for our ultimate victory. We pray that you guard our bodies, our minds and our souls from the unholy, keeping us safe for a time when only the righteous shall inherit the Earth. In Jesus’s name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” came one final chant before people stood and started chatting amongst themselves.
I jumped from my seat and ran down the aisle toward the exit. No way was I sitting around and waiting for one of those people to try to talk to me. Or murder me, whichever the case may be. I slammed through the door and headed straight for Dr. Patton’s car. Luckily, it was unlocked, so I jumped it and locked it behind me.
I watched as the congregation filed out, heading for their cars without even glancing in my direction. Even the ones parked near me didn’t try to peer through the tinted glass to catch a glimpse of me. It was like they didn’t care that I was there. Maybe Dr. Patton hadn’t told them who, or what, I was.
After what seemed like forever, he emerged from the building before turning and locking the door behind him. The parking lot was clearing out, fast, but he had no trouble making it to the car. Everyone stopped their vehicles to let him pass. It was like he was royalty or something.