“What about the police? Do they ever check in on them?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I guess maybe if they commit a crime. Things got pretty tense a few years back.”
“Oh yeah, what happened?”
“Little girl went missing. She was four or five years old; I forget now. Anyway, the parents claimed they’d seen a cultist hanging around near their home. Someone from the sheriff’s department went to check it out and realised how many members own guns.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
He shook his head. “They let them search the place and the girl wasn’t found. No kids there at all apparently.”
“Oh,” Fran said. That seemed unlikely.
“Could’ve gone Waco for a minute there.”
“Yeah.” Fran stared out of the window at the mountains. Guns. She hadn’t factored guns into the equation. But of course, there would be guns.
“Anyway, this is as far as I can get you. Be careful there, won’t you. Please tell me you’re not thinking of joining.”
“No,” Fran replied. “I just want to see what it’s like.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve heard that one before.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
THEN
Esther had tried hard not to think about what Mary had said to Father during their horseback conversation. But at the same time, it was hard not to.
She and Grace were alone in the horse barn, sweeping up fallen hay. The brush swush-swooshed against the concrete along with the sound of fidgeting horses. She heard Champion grinding his teeth again. Pepper swished her tail. Bert shook his head and grunted, snorting hay dust from his nostrils. Oakley was asleep in the straw, long legs folded underneath his body, round stomach rising and falling. She wanted to enjoy being back, listening to the sounds of relaxed animals, but her mind couldn’t concentrate on the good things, it kept veering to thoughts of her mother and father.
Esther walked over to Grace and sat down on a haybale. “What do married people do to each other? You know… when they make children.”
“They lie down together,” Grace said.
“Is that it?”
Grace frowned. “I think they rub together naked. But God’s there too somehow.”
“After they’ve become man and wife?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Esther placed her brush against the wall. They had special lightweight plastic brooms to help them with their work. The wooden adult ones were too heavy.
“But how old do you have to be to lie with someone?”
“I don’t know,” Grace said. “Old.”
“Like, adult old? As old as Father?”
“Not that old,” she said. “But older than us.”
“What about twelve?”
Grace thought about it for a minute. “No, older than that.”
Esther thought of Paul who was ten. She couldn’t imagine him marrying anyone in two years. He still picked his nose and ate it. Esther couldn’t imagine herself being a wife at twelve, either. So why had Mary said those things? She decided to tell Grace all about it. She patted the hay bale and they sat together while Esther recanted the entire conversation.
“Maybe she didn’t lie with him,” Grace said. “Maybe you came from somewhere else, like I did.”
“Maybe we were both found.” Esther suddenly had the urge to take Grace by the hand. She did. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Grace said.
Later that day, Esther took some freshly harvested lettuce to the farmhouse kitchen, and then went along to the laundry room to stack the linens. As she was making her way there, she saw Father James standing in the hallway next to the staircase.
“Esther isn’t it?” he asked. He was wearing his sunglasses and his gold jewellery. Isaiah stood silently on his right.
“Yes, Father.” Esther bowed.
“I’d like to have a chat.” He gestured for her to follow him and then they walked to the back of the house. He opened the door to a study and she wandered in.
Esther’s heart was beating fast as he showed her to a chair opposite a desk and then closed the door behind them. Isaiah stayed on the outside of the room.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“Very well, Father. Thank you.”
“Good girl. Let me look at you.” To her surprise, he removed his sunglasses before gently lifting her chin. “My, my. You do remind me of your mother. Such a pretty mouth.”
She shivered. The power of his blue eyes bored into her, penetrating beneath her skin and bones, to her soul. Father James possessed the ability to heal with those eyes. Some of the other members wore vials of his tears around their necks to help with their arthritis and intestinal problems.
He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “Have you been working on yourself as a holistic, soulful entity?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Do you accept the will of God on your journey to salvation?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Do you believe that I am the prophet, the vessel and the tongue of God?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good,” he said. “And what do you make of your mother, Mary?”
Esther faltered. Her gaze dropped to her hands that were folded in her lap. Then they drifted over to the bookshelf. None of the other cult members were allowed books, but Father kept a small selection. There was the Book of James, of course, the Bible, which was blasphemous, a dictionary, an encyclopaedia and a large book about medicine. Mary had taught her to read when she was little. The only book they had was the Book of James, and it taught her everything she needed to know.
“She loves me,” Esther said.
“Yes, she does. Anything else.”
Esther gripped her knees and felt a familiar cramp forming in her tummy. “She lies.”
Father James raised his eyebrows. He was about to speak when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”
Isaiah leaned in. “Sorry for the interruption, Father. A visitor has arrived.”
“Ask them to wait in the sermon hall, will you?” Father dismissed the man with a wave of his hand before redirecting his attention back to Esther. “I see before me a great believer. A girl on the right path. I am impressed, Esther. Very impressed indeed. Now, what do you know about the Reckoning?”
“The Reckoning is when we will receive salvation from God.”
“That’s right.” Father James smiled. “I hear around the ranch that you organise the children all by yourself. And in his wisdom, God has told me you have an important part to play in the Reckoning. Would you like me to tell you what that is?”
Esther nodded eagerly.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
NOW
Caleb was standing next to a five-bar gate with his hands casually tucked into his pockets. There was no one around, just him. Fran lifted one hand in a limp greeting and pondered the fact that there was no one with him. Was she the only participant? That would be strange, wouldn’t it?
“It’s so nice to see you again,” he said, opening the gate for her. He was smiling broadly. It fell just shy of creepy, somewhere between welcoming and forced.
The gate opened out onto a dirt track that ran between the fields. They had a few horses grazing the grass, shaking their manes against the clouds of buzzing flies. A small number of cattle and goats brayed and snorted. The cattle stayed away from the fence while the goats came trotting over.
“So, you’re a working farm out here?” Fran asked.
“Partially,” Caleb replied. “We’re more self-sufficient than working. We sell some of our produce but not to grocery stores. The cattle and the goats are rescues from slaughterhouses. The goats still produce milk, but we keep the cows out of kindness. Sometimes in the summer and fall we set up a stall on the road to sell produce, or we donate it to food banks.”
“And every member chips in to keep this place running?”
“They do, yes,” he
said. “That’s our way of life here.”
“But what about external goals?” Fran asked.
Caleb’s welcoming smile morphed into a knowing grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll go through all of that in today’s course.”
“Right.”
“There’s no need to be nervous. It’s a great day. I promise.” He glanced at his watch. “There are a couple of other participants waiting at the hall. We should start on time, but I’ll have to collect a few others back at the gate.”
Fran tried to take a mental picture of everything she saw as they approached the ranch. She saw a farmhouse, which was large but not huge. It had a wooden porch and lace curtains. There were several outbuildings, some of which were obviously for animals, but others she thought could be accommodation for residents. There were more windows along the walls of those barns and they generally seemed cleaner. Caleb directed her towards one of the clean outbuildings and told her to wait inside. Then he turned back to head down the dirt track again.
It was tempting to veer off course and snoop around, but Fran decided to follow as directed. On her way there, she examined the face of everyone she saw, searching for Mary, Esther or Elijah. But what would happen if she saw them? It’s not like they’d agree to come away with her anyway. Elijah might even have her escorted away and banned from returning. Now that she was here, her heart jumped madly in her chest. Would this even work?
And at the same time, Fran felt as though Adrian would be laughing at her, at the strange situation she’d placed herself in. No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be laughing; he’d be afraid for her. He’d be worried sick.
She walked into the barn Caleb had pointed out to her; nerves fluttering frantically around her stomach. It was sweltering inside. She untucked her top from her trousers, hoping it would help cool her down. There were four others in the hall, hovering next to a circle of chairs. The barn had been converted into a space that reminded her of Leacroft Village Hall with a stage at the far end and space for an audience. But it was more open than the village hall, and a concrete floor made every step feel like a scuffle. Cheerful triangles of coloured bunting hovered high up in the rafters.
A slender woman in a colourful maxi-dress passed her a bottle of water. “You’ll need this,” she said.
Fran thanked her. “Have you been to one of these before?”
She had smooth, mahogany skin, with two slightly darker half moons beneath her eyes. Fran figured she was in her late thirties. “Yes. This is my second go, I guess.”
“The first time didn’t convince you?”
She smiled. “No, but I wasn’t put off, either. I’m still feeling it out. It’s…” she paused, searching for the words. “A lot.”
Fran laughed. “Yeah, it certainly is. I’m Fran by the way.” She held out her hand for the woman to shake.
“Talisa.”
Fran took a sip of water. At least she knew one friendly person to team up with if this day involved some sort of role play. Fran repressed a shudder at the thought of role playing, something she’d always dreaded during office away days.
While they waited, Talisa asked her some polite questions about her accent, and Fran asked her if she was from Tucson. The conversation was stilted but pleasant. Meeting new people and having awkward conversations always made her feel younger, like she was back at university meeting her course mates for the first time.
“Guys, I’m back. Sorry about the wait.” Caleb breezed back in with three other people. They were young, mid-twenties, ranging from straw-blond to dirty blond. Two girls and a guy. Caleb clapped his hands together. “Great! Everyone is here so let’s get started!”
Fran found her way to a chair, staying close to Talisa. She noted that everyone was in modern clothing, but she still suspected cult members hiding within the group. She was sure they had a stash of different outfits for this kind of event. She noticed a disproportionate number of women in the group and that most of the others were no older than thirty. She was the dinosaur, as Adrian would say.
They began with introductions, then some workshopping of external goals, which resulted in Fran and Talisa bending over a whiteboard with marker pens. And then Fran noticed a slight shift in tone. Caleb’s course began directly attacking consumerism.
“What if I showed you a way to shed your material goods? What if I told you that your external goals do not need to revolve around which iPhone you own? What if I told you that achieving your best self has nothing to do with any of these things?” Caleb slapped his knees with the palms of his hand. “Come with me.”
They walked back out into the yard and Fran’s eyes roamed the landscape. Now it was mid-morning and she was imagining Mary around every corner. What would happen if she was recognised in front of Caleb? Nothing good. She kept her head down. She saw a man in the distance who was the same height and shape as Elijah. He had a beard too. Could it be him? She turned her head away and chastised herself for not having the foresight to wear a hat with a large brim. Her straw hat barely concealed her features.
Caleb led them to a small paddock. It was in some disrepair, with stones, rocks and weeds mixed in with the hard soil. There were different tools lined up against the fence. Shovels, trowels, rakes and more. Fran almost laughed at the audacity. Were they really going to make them do farm work after paying for a course?
Talisa verbalised her thoughts. “You can’t be serious? This is just exploitation.”
“I am serious,” Caleb said. “Clear this field. And while you’re doing it, meditate on one thing: I feed my spirit. I feed my soul. I want you to repeat those words after me.”
The group repeated the words. Fran too.
“You will not speak to each other. You will meditate and you will clear this field.”
“And what will you be doing?” Talisa asked.
“I’ll be right here,” Caleb said. “I’ll be meditating with you.”
One of the blonds spoke up. “I’m not clearing out your fucking field. This is bullshit.”
Caleb shook his head. “No, it isn’t. We don’t use this field and it being cleared means nothing to us. This is for you. But if you want to leave then leave. No one is forcing you. Alternatively, if you want to stay and learn how to feed your soul then you know where the tools are.” He gestured to the shovels and rakes. It was the firmest she’d ever heard the usually gently Caleb sound, and it had an effect on her that she wasn’t expecting. She almost wanted to obey, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Maybe it was to annoy the young blond kids.
The participants hesitated. Most exchanged glances with each other as the silence stretched. A man picked up a shovel. A few others followed. Fran let out a long sigh and picked up a trowel. Slowly, even the angry blond girl rolled her eyes as she snatched up a rake.
Fran got to work, but while she was digging out weeds, she changed her affirmation. It was: I will find them. I will save them.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Esther was trying to sleep in the bunker but Stinky was snoring. That was why she couldn’t sleep, because of him, not because of what Father James had asked her to do. No, because Father James was good and everything he said was true. He was God’s mouthpiece. That meant everything he requested came directly from God. Didn’t it? But what was a mouthpiece again? She couldn’t remember. Someone who talked a lot? No, that wasn’t right. It meant that God told Father what to do and then he relayed the message to them. If they did exactly what he said, they would find salvation, which they needed because the Reckoning was right around the corner.
Her stomach hurt. She hadn’t eaten much but she still felt sick. They had a toilet in the shelter, but it was in sight of everyone and she didn’t want to throw up in front of the others. Instead she kept her eyes closed and silently prayed. Dear Lord, thank you for keeping me safe. Thank you for giving us the gift of Father James and speaking through him to deliver your truth. The words rolled easily through her mind because she had been taught them for as l
ong as she could remember. Then she added her own words. I want to be a good girl. I want to do the right thing. Can you help me choose? What Father says is right and what Mother says is right are two different things. Perhaps you could show me tomorrow. But how would I know? I don’t think you can talk to me like you talk to Father. Wait, I know. If Missy lays one egg tomorrow, then Mother is right about Father. If she’s right, then I shouldn’t do what Father asked me to do. But if Missy lays two eggs then I know you are speaking through Father. If I find two eggs, I will do what Father has asked me to do. Is that okay, Lord? I love you very much. Esther.
That made her tummy feel better and she didn’t need to be sick anymore. In fact, she slept perfectly well after that.
All through the next day, Esther watched Missy. She was a brown chicken with creamy-white flecks on her wings. She was older now and limped sometimes, but continued to be one of the most reliable layers out of the flock. It was, however, very rare for Missy to lay more than one egg in a day. It was rare for any chicken to lay two eggs in one day, but if any hen could do it, it’d be Missy.
Esther knew that Missy had a particular spot in the coop where she laid her eggs. It was a corner spot that Missy was highly protective of. The others had been pecked enough to know not to encroach. Esther continued to check Missy’s spot about every fifteen minutes just to be sure she was the first to find an egg. Grace gave her funny looks as they were watering the lettuce in the garden.
“Can I come?” she kept asking.
“No. I want to look at them alone.”
Esther had lied and told Grace she was looking to see if any of the hens were sitting on their eggs. Mary had once told her that hens would get “broody” which meant they wanted their eggs to turn into chicks. She said that once hens got broody, they protected their egg at all costs and refused to let anyone else harm them.
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