The Long Way Back, page 20
“Do you like to read?” Abner moves behind the expansive desk and motions for Eva to take one of the armchairs across from him.
“Yes,” she says, sinking onto a nubby cushion and leaning her crutches against the other chair. She’s distracted, and clearly Abner can tell. He seems mildly annoyed.
Eva’s off-balance, incapable of decoding Abner’s unexpected warmth. It feels insincere, manipulative. What does he want from her? Questions bubble to the tip of her tongue, and before she can stop herself, she blurts out: “Why am I here?”
At this, Abner laughs. It’s throaty and rich, an intoxicating sound and completely unexpected coming from so powerful and serious a man. “You’re bold,” he tells her. “I like that. But as a seventeen-year-old Instagram influencer and not-yet high school graduate, you’re really in no position to question me.”
“You know who I am?”
Instead of answering, Abner pulls a phone from his pocket and uses face ID to unlock it. He taps and scrolls until he finds what he’s looking for. Then he turns the screen so Eva can see it.
She’s looking at a picture of herself and Charlie. They’re crouching on an outcropping of stone over what looks like a bottomless canyon. The sun is setting behind them, so they are bathed in shadows, but it’s a gorgeous, impressionistic shot layered with the colors of a southwestern twilight. Eva remembers setting up the camera. She remembers that just behind them, where it looked like the earth fell precipitously away, there was a ledge. The danger was just an illusion.
“This is one of my favorites,” Abner says, smiling indulgently as if Eva and Charlie are his children, or at least people he can take personal pride in. “I can actually see your faces. Kind of.”
Eva is still trying to catch up. “You follow Eva Explores?”
“Just because we choose to live a simple life doesn’t mean we are completely detached from the rest of the world. Yes, we are fully independent and off the grid, but we do like to know what’s happening on the outside. In fact, we take it all very seriously. Would you believe several of my sons are computer geniuses?”
Eva doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing at all.
Abner continues. “We have Facebook pages with hundreds of thousands of followers—more than you, my dear. We also have popular podcasts, weekly live streams that attract viewers from all over the world, and fans on every continent. We may look like backwoods hicks, Miss Sutton, but if you—or anyone—believe that’s all we are, you’re profoundly underestimating us.”
“Who’s us?” Eva asks, finding her voice.
“The Family of Zion, of course.” Abner grins, and the expression makes Eva think of shark-infested waters.
“So you’re a cult.” Eva is shocked when the words tumble from her lips, but instead of becoming angry, Abner laughs again.
“Is that what you think?” Before she can even draw a breath, he answers his own question. “I suppose it must look like that to you. But no, we are not a cult. We are a lifestyle, a movement, a flock of true believers who have had a glimpse behind the curtain. We know what we have to do. And we are going to change the world.”
The fervor in his eyes scares Eva even more than his hand on her body or the sound of gunshots. “What do you mean?”
Abner waves his hand as if swatting at a fly. “Never mind.”
“But what am I doing here? There’s been some sort of mistake. I don’t belong here. I—”
“You are the proverbial fly in the ointment. Wrong place, wrong time. You can thank Zechariah for that.”
At the mention of his name, Eva goes still. What happened to him? Why won’t they let her see him? But she doesn’t get to ask any questions because Abner is still talking.
“You’re right. You aren’t supposed to be here. At least, not like this. We had hoped you might…” He shakes his head. “Zechariah shouldn’t have taken you to the cottage. It was a mistake. And now I’m left to clean up his messes once again.”
Abner slaps both hands on the desk with an air of finality. Their conversation is done. Eva can tell that even before he says, “I think that’s enough for now.”
“What about Zach?” Eva asks quickly. At the very least she wants to know where he is. How he’s doing.
“Don’t worry about him.”
Eva is dismayed when Abner stands and begins to move toward the study door. “When can I go home? Can I please just call my mom? She must be worried sick…”
Heaving a sigh, Abner reaches for Eva’s crutches and holds them just out of reach. He’s clearly annoyed with her and ignores her questions altogether.
Eva is scared to ask, but they’ve come this far. Her voice only trembles a little when she says: “What are you going to do with me?”
“For now, you’re going back to the shed. It’s the safest place for you while we figure out what to do. Don’t worry, I’ll have Rachel bring you some lunch.” He hands her the crutches and swings the office door wide. “Then I think you should join us for the Gathering.”
A bolt of defiance zaps through Eva and she lifts her chin to refuse him. They’ll have to carry her, kicking and screaming, to this Gathering. But just as she opens her mouth, she thinks: Zach. Maybe he’ll be there. Maybe he’s regretting what he’s done, how he’s entangled her in this sheer madness. Maybe he’ll help.
“Did you want to say something, Miss Sutton?”
Eva shakes her head, lowers her eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
It’s evident that Abner prefers his women this way: nervous and shy, more than a little scared. Whatever it is he enjoys in the Instagram photo of her and Charlie, it isn’t their bold pose, the way they look as if at any moment they may topple off the edge—and that they couldn’t possibly care less. Those gutsy women don’t belong in a place like this, where long skirts make sprinting impossible, and girls are clearly meant to be seen and not heard. Eva thinks of the way that Abner so casually dismissed Rachel, his own daughter, and decides that if she wants to get anywhere, she must learn how to blend into the background.
She can do it. And while she plays the part of a cringing wallflower, she’ll continue to collect information that will help her get away. Eva already knows that the Gates isn’t as isolated as she first thought it was. The dizzying, half-delirious ride through the forest and to what felt like the very edge of the map had made her feel utterly alone, but thanks to Abner, she knows there’s technology and Wi-Fi, a way to connect with civilization beyond the razor wire fence. All she needs to do is find a way to use it.
COLLEGE APPLICATION ESSAY #50
The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?
It has taken me a very long time to realize that I have spent the majority of my life as the object of every verb. My father (a man I never met and who made it crystal clear to my mother that he wanted nothing to do with his spawn) left me. The kids at my middle school (who needed someone to pick on and somehow decided I was the most appealing target) bullied me. My mom (who truly is the best but can be so overbearing it’s practically criminal) coddled me. But maybe the most significant example of my objectification is how Instagram made me.
Who knows why the algorithm sprinkled pixie dust on us that day, but from the moment my mom and I uploaded a photo of thirteen-year-old me in Gooseberry Falls, my life has never been the same. Perhaps in a college application essay I shouldn’t share that I am an Instagram star of sorts. But I know you’ll look me up. Go ahead, I’ll wait. I’m the intrepid girl who grew up zigzagging around a map, tracing paths and eventual destinations in the bougie charm of a renovated vintage Airstream we named Sebastian. It’s true, I’ve hiked nearly every mountain range in America, hit forty-four of fifty states, and know at least half a dozen national parks with the familiarity of a park ranger. But what people don’t realize is that behind the scenes I was jerked back and forth by the whims of an ever-growing audience, and a mom who always—always—knew what was best.
Pictures were taken of me. Decisions were made for me. And because I loved our life on the road—and it saved me from the things that scared me—I happily went along with everything. But what about when I want to be the subject of the verb?
I have to be honest and say that the lessons I’m learning are in real time. This isn’t a past tense journey for me, but one that I’m walking every moment. Even realizing the importance of my own autonomy and independence was hard won, and something I have to remind myself to fight for daily.
I’ll be forever thankful for our memory-making, life-making, me-making years on the road. And I’ll always love the girl with the frizzy braids and freckled skin who grew up in such extraordinary circumstances. But it’s time for me to decide.
Evangeline Sutton is no longer the Little Mermaid who wore fins for her fans but longed for legs to carry her away from a life that was her past, not her future. Eva will study and learn and write. About the adventures she lived, and the ones yet to happen. Eva will continue to explore, in her own time and in her own way. And this particular journey will be a quiet one.
This time, you won’t find me on Instagram.
*Hey, Ms. Alvarez! I’m done. I think fifty is my max—I’ve said everything I needed to say, and then some. It’s been good practice. Thank you for reading my ramblings and offering your feedback. It’s been really helpful, and you’re cheaper than a shrink. ;-) Sorry to subject you to all this drama, and I know I’m all over the place when it comes to my mom. Am I crazy or do all girls have a love/hate relationship with their mother?!? Wait. Don’t answer that. lol —E
PS-Gone for a few days, but I’ll be back early next week. See you soon!
CHAPTER 16
MONDAY
Eva fights panic when Abner leads her back to the little shed behind the farmhouse and locks her inside. She can’t stand the thought of being confined again—of being at the mercy of whoever holds the key—and even when he’s gone, it takes her a while to regain control. Her sobs are bitter and leave her feeling wrung-out and hopeless. She has a plan! (Sort of.) She knows what to do! (Not really.) But none of that hard-earned and only slightly affected confidence erases the fact that she’s in an unimaginable position.
It’s the week of her high school graduation. Eva’s supposed to be sleeping in, going to rehearsal and the class brunch afterward, and daydreaming about her future. It’s true, she doesn’t have a tight group of close friends at Landing High, but she isn’t disliked. Everyone is nice enough, and though her class is a mismatched assortment of kids, they have fun together. Prom was a blast (she wore a pink confection of a dress with black Chucks), and she screamed herself hoarse at the hockey playoffs (they lost in overtime). Eva wasn’t bullied. Not once.
Crying on the cot in the shed, Eva is stabbed with regret. The whole point of settling in Landing was so that she could have a taste of the high school experience. And she threw it away when she fell head over heels for an older guy. A guy who dragged her halfway across the state and rendered the graduation gown hanging over her closet door useless.
A guy who is now incognito. Eva still shivers at the thought of Abner backhanding his son, but she’s also angry at her so-called boyfriend for abandoning her in this deranged place. Rachel loathes her, Abner acts like he’s buttering her up, and everyone else avoids her like she’s a prisoner. Which, she supposes, she is.
When Eva has calmed down enough to think clearly, she realizes that she doesn’t have much time before Rachel is supposed to come and bring her lunch. And then she’s expected at the Gathering, whatever that is. This may be her only opportunity to inspect the shed. Eva wants to make use of every remaining minute.
Abandoning the crutches beside the door, she wipes away her tears and limps around the small space looking for chinks in the walls of her makeshift cell. After a quick but thorough investigation, Eva guesses that the space is used as a meeting place of sorts (there are stacks of notebooks and cups filled with an assortment of pens on a low shelf) and there is absolutely no way out. The only door is locked from the outside with a thick padlock. And the two windows are not only tiny, but not built to open at all. Even if she had something to smash the glass, she’d need to find a way to dismantle or destroy the wooden frame between the small panes. Then Eva would have to crawl through the shards of broken glass, drop to the ground on her wounded leg, and hike without a compass or any idea of where she’s going, only to face a razor wire fence. Never mind the uniformed guards, the arsenal of weaponry, and the fact that she may be miles from anyone who could possibly help her. But there has to be a way. She just needs to keep her wits about her until she finds it.
At one o’clock, the sound of a bell ringing echoes across the compound. At least, Eva assumes it’s one—there’s no clock in the shed. But she hurries to one of the windows and watches through the dirty glass as a door in the front of the barn is flung open and children pour out. There are twenty or so of them, ranging in age from preschool to junior high. Two women are the last to emerge—one of them looks like Tamar—and they each have smaller kids either by the hand or in their arms.
The barn must be a converted space, a school of sorts by the look of it. Eva would love little more than to follow them down the sloping hill toward the barracks, but in less than a minute they are out of sight, heading for the back of the property. They don’t spare Eva or the shed a single glance.
As Eva watches, Rachel comes into view. She stalks after her siblings, her nieces and nephews, and heaven knows who else. Eva wishes she could get her attention, but the shed is too far away for Rachel to notice her trying, and she soon disappears.
Since there’s nothing left to see, Eva flops down on the bed and lifts her bad leg to the pile of pillows she’s arranged there. It feels good to elevate it, and with a couple of ibuprofen on board, it’s starting to bother her less. In a couple of days she’s sure she’ll be good as new, and learning as much as she can about the patterns of the people within the Gates is an important part of formulating her escape plan. Eva slides one of the notebooks she found from between the stiff mattress and the metal frame of the cot and pokes a pen out from the spirals. She jots down a few notes about the number of kids and teachers, the timing of the meal, and where everyone goes to have it, adding to the details she has already scribbled down.
As she’s writing, it strikes Eva that Rachel is not in school. Has she graduated already? Are teenage girls not allowed to go to school in the Family of Zion? Eva can’t help but be fascinated by her cultish counterpart. Rachel is close to her age, young and pretty and full of spirit—even though that very grit is often directed in cruel ways at Eva.
Rachel’s jealous. The realization hits Eva like a slap, but the moment she thinks it she knows it’s true. What has it been like for Rachel to grow up on this compound, isolated from the rest of the world and all the grubby beauty that it holds? Has she ever tasted salt water on her tongue, or walked a city street to the soundtrack of traffic and shouted conversations in a dozen different languages? Has she sat in a dark movie theater with her hands greasy from popcorn while the opening credits roll? What about a high school crush, that last-day-of-school feeling, a frozen pizza at midnight just because?
Eva feels a pang of pity for Abner’s overlooked daughter, but it doesn’t last long. The sound of a key in the padlock sends her scrambling to hide the notebook.
“Potato soup today,” Rachel announces, coming into the shed, “but I spilled some of it on the way.”
Eva sinks back to the cot in the nick of time, the only evidence of her subterfuge a slight squeaking of the rusty springs. Rachel doesn’t seem to notice.
“There were ham buns, too, but I couldn’t carry everything, so I guess you’ll just have to make do.”
Eva sits up, trying not to roll her eyes as Rachel passes her a half-empty bowl of soup. Rachel’s other hand is free, and she produces a spoon from her dress pocket. She could have easily carried a bun, and Eva tries not to be spiteful. But then Rachel produces a chocolate chip cookie from her other pocket and tosses it onto the cot between them.
Is this a peace offering? She considers not acknowledging it. But then she realizes that there’s no way that Rachel herself had time to eat. It’s only been a matter of minutes since Eva watched her follow the school children deeper into the compound. She grabs the cookie, stuffing it into her own dress pocket.
“What about you?” Eva asks, pausing with her spoon suspended above the bowl, even though the aroma of the soup is making her mouth water. “Have you eaten?”
Rachel looks taken aback. She seems so thrown she answers honestly, “No,” she admits, and then quickly adds, “I’m not hungry.”
Eva doesn’t know her well enough to press her, so she lets it go and lifts a bite to her mouth. Unlike the oatmeal she ate several hours ago, the soup is hot and studded with chunks of soft potatoes and carrots. She’s starving. She just wishes Rachel wouldn’t have “spilled” half of it on the way over.
Sinking to the edge of one of the chairs, Rachel watches Eva eat. It seems something has shifted slightly in the air between them, and after a few minutes she asks, all in a rush, “What did you and my dad talk about?”
Eva takes her time chewing, realizing that if she’s careful, she may be able to tease more information out of Rachel. “He told me about your family,” she says truthfully. “About how Zach—I mean, Zechariah—is the fifth of eleven kids. Where do you fit?”
