The Long Way Back, page 21
Rachel pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking. Eventually she sighs and says, “I’m number seven.”
“How old are you?”
It’s an innocuous question, and Rachel answers easily. “Nineteen. You?”
“Seventeen. Almost eighteen.”
“Old enough,” Rachel murmurs.
“For what?”
Rachel laughs. “Old enough to marry. But I doubt that’s what Zechariah had in mind. Did you sleep with him?”
Eva nearly chokes on her soup. This is not a conversation that she wants to be having with Zach’s sister, and besides, she was supposed to be the one asking questions—not the other way around. “That is none of your business.”
But Rachel won’t be deterred. Leaning forward, she props her elbows on her knees and knots her hands together. She gives Eva an earnest, concerned look. “Hey, I’m trying to help you here. If you slept with him, you’re already married in the eyes of the Family. Doesn’t matter if you want to be or not—it’s a done deal. If you haven’t… Well, you have more options.”
“Are you kidding me?” Eva’s stomach has turned, and the scent of the soup suddenly makes her nauseous.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about this. But you and Zechariah better have your stories straight. If you say he didn’t have sex with you, but he says you did, Tamar will have to do an exam and—”
“Oh, my God.” Eva slams her back into the wall behind her, trying to get as far away from Rachel as she can. “You’re kidding me. That can’t possibly be true.”
Rachel sits up straight, a smug little smile on her thin lips. “I’m not kidding. But I’m sure you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”
Eva is furious, her blood carbonated in her veins. The thought of being forced to share intimate details with Abner Brennan—or Rachel or Tamar or anyone—obliterates the self-control she’s been fighting so hard for. She wants to smack the superior look off Rachel’s face, but before she can land a verbal punch, Rachel stands.
“Had enough?” she asks, and without waiting for an answer, she takes the bowl from Eva and sets it on the small table beside the cot. “Good. We should get going. I have to set up for the Gathering and I guess you might as well come along.”
The walk from the shed to the row of barracks at the back of the property is long and arduous, but Eva is still frothing at the thought of Abner knowing about her sex life, and manages to nearly match Rachel’s swift pace. She’s gotten the hang of the crutches, and as she jabs them repeatedly into the ground, she wonders if the aluminum aids could be used as a weapon. If she swung them hard enough, would they do any damage? Of course, they’d be useless against the stronghold that is the shed, but could she protect herself with them? Could she hit someone? Beyond the unintentional playground scuffle, Eva has never hurt another human being in her life. She’s not sure that she could do it. If she had to whip her crutch at Rachel’s head, could she follow through?
Rachel pulls a few paces ahead, and Eva can see that her yellow braid is starting to fray at the edges. Soft wisps of downy hair frame her face and tickle her neck. They make her look much younger than her nineteen years, and even though she’s fuming, Eva feels a quiver of compassion for the young woman. Rachel is so unhappy. So trapped—even if she doesn’t know it and would never describe it that way. In another time and place, could they be friends? For just a moment, Eva pictures backpacking with Rachel, the steady climb and near euphoria at the summit. The feeling of a shared experience that levels every playing field. But that’s just wishful thinking.
As they near the first Morton building, Eva realizes that she misjudged it a bit. People are milling around outside, stretching in the early afternoon sun and talking in small groups gathered on the grass. The double-wide doors of the structure are thrown open, and beyond the glass Eva can see that it’s a cafeteria of sorts—not a bunkhouse—filled with folding tables and a surprising mixture of people. The teachers and children are there, plus more women in dresses. They must be the cooks and cleaners of this unusual place, the cogs that whirl behind the scenes to keep everything running. And, at tables separate from the women and children, are more men. Some of them are dressed in combat fatigues, but others wear jeans and T-shirts, regular, informal clothes that somehow make them look incredibly out of place at the bewildering Gates of Zion.
Where does everyone live? Just ballparking the number of people in the cafeteria and on the lawn, Eva would guess there are easily a hundred people here. Maybe more. They can’t all crowd into the farmhouse, and unless families are packed like sardines in the remaining Morton buildings, Eva can’t imagine where they fit.
But here, below the rise, Eva can see more of the property—and it’s even bigger than she thought. Before the wall of what can only be the training grounds, there are trails peeling off into the trees. Do they lead to smaller homes? More buildings? Eva wishes she could pepper Rachel with questions.
“We’re outside today,” Rachel says suddenly, pointing to a trail that cuts between the first two buildings and carves through the forest. “In the amphitheater. Dad will be live streaming the Gathering so that everyone is on the same page when…”
“When what?” Eva asks, but it’s clear that Rachel isn’t going to say anything more. The pinched look on her face reveals that she’s already said too much.
“I have to carry equipment down, and it’s going to take you a while to navigate the stairs, so I’m going to let you find your own way. Sit in the very back row on the left side so that I can see you when I walk in.”
Eva can’t believe her luck. She’s sure that Abner would be furious if he knew that Rachel was just going to leave her, but before she can mentally celebrate this small victory, Rachel’s hand shoots out and snag’s Eva’s wrist.
“There are a hundred and sixty-two people here who know who you are. You stick out like a sore thumb. Never mind the fact that there are cameras all over the compound. Someone is always watching, Eva. Don’t even think about trying to run.”
Eva swings her crutch, dislodging Rachel’s grip on her arm. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I can’t run.”
Rachel just glares. Then she turns on her heel and leaves Eva alone in the shadow of the low-slung building.
People are finishing up their lunches and trickling down the trail on their way to the Gathering. Eva watches them, trying to make eye contact, trying to connect with anyone who might give her even a scrap of information, but they all determinedly avoid her gaze. The women shuffle past hurriedly, a docile breed of maidens with their eyes downcast and their prairie dresses obscuring all obvious suggestions of their femininity. And while the men go slow, taking their time and laughing with one another, they ignore Eva as if she doesn’t exist at all. When a small child reaches for her and giggles, a young teenage girl sweeps the toddler into her arms and rushes away.
Still, she feels their attention on her—a hundred-and-sixty-two pairs of eyes plus the cameras that she can now see mounted on the corners of the buildings and in the trees. Eva has no choice but to follow the crowd toward the wide path and the Gathering.
Because she’s slow, most people hurry past, pouring around her as if she is nothing more than a stone in a stream. So Eva takes her time, pausing every once in a while and making a show of being sore and exhausted. No one stops to help her, and soon she’s alone on the path.
The trail through the trees is wide and well-trodden, but it cuts sharply so that Eva can’t see where she’s going. However, she can hear when the Gathering begins. Rachel must have taken a different way down because she hasn’t passed Eva, but a loudspeaker of sorts is clearly working, and Abner’s voice peals across the compound.
“No mission too difficult, no sacrifice too great!” he shouts, and when the microphone screeches, several birds take flight.
A chorus of voices answer him as one: “We are liberty at work!”
Eva stops in her tracks, chilled by the litany and the force of their intent.
“We build, we fight, we strike for freedom!” Abner continues.
“Our rights we will defend!”
“The war is won, but the combat rages on!”
“Onward soldiers!” The final rallying cry echoes across the forest. And then, the invocation devolves into a chant that sounds like a battle cry in the throats of everyone gathered: “On-ward! On-ward! On-ward! On-ward!”
Eva had intended to bide her time and do what Rachel told her to, but the war cry from the trees is otherworldly. She’s gripped by a horror so pure she can only think one thing: Run.
Wheeling away from the Gathering and the people assembled there, Eva begins to retrace her steps. She scampers up the track, swinging her crutches as quickly as she can, wondering if she should just abandon them altogether. But before she can make it out of the trees and into the sunshine of the open compound, someone grabs her from behind. Eva cries out, but her shout is smothered by the chanting that continues from the amphitheater.
“Eva!” Her name, whispered in her ear. “It’s me.”
She knows his voice, the feel of his breath on her skin. “Zach?” She twists in his arms, and when she sees his face, she gasps.
The skin over Zach’s cheekbone is split like a ripe peach and crusted with blood. One eye is black and blue, and so swollen it’s little more than a slit. His lip is purple and puffy, his neck speckled with pinprick bruises… Eva watched Abner strike his own son, but this seems like far more damage than a wicked backhand could do. It looks like Zach’s punishment did not end when they arrived at the Gates.
In spite of herself, in spite of the terrible situation he’s put her in, Eva feels a wave of affection wash over her. Only days ago she thought she was in love with him. Turns out, love can’t switch to hate as quickly as she imagined.
“What happened?” She reaches out to brush his cheek, but before her fingers can graze his skin, he seizes her hand.
Watching the trees, Zach pulls her off the trail and into the underbrush. When she wrestles with the crutches, he wrenches them away and half carries her deeper into the covering of the forest.
“What—”
He sets her down and presses his fingers to her lips to silence her. “We don’t have much time,” he says, his voice low and his face so close to hers that Eva could tip toward him a single inch and touch his forehead with her own. “We’re in a blind spot. None of the cameras can see us here, but you’re supposed to be at the Gathering. If you don’t show up soon, people will notice.”
“Where have you been? Why are you—”
“I’m being punished,” Zach interrupts. “I’m being held in a room in the basement of the farmhouse, but my father doesn’t know that I learned to pick the lock years ago. I have to get back before the Gathering ends.”
Abner went into the basement to get the crutches. Zach was right there.
“Let’s go,” she says. “Right now. You and me. Let’s run.” She’s tried so hard to stay calm and clearheaded, to think rationally. But everything inside her is rebelling. The chanting at the Gathering has stopped, and Abner is talking quickly and forcefully. She can’t make out the words, but in some ways that’s scarier than the rallying cry of his followers. What is he saying? She didn’t think Rachel meant it when she said they were training for war. Now she’s not so sure.
“We’d never make it,” Zach says sadly. “I’m so sorry, Eva. I’m so very, very sorry. You have to believe me that I never intended for this to happen.”
“What is this place?”
Zach frowns, a deep line appearing between his eyes. “My home. It wasn’t always this way. But my dad stopped trusting the government and started talking about how our values were under attack. I was in fourth grade when he pulled us out of public school and started homeschooling us. It’s been a steady march to this—” He sweeps his arms, indicating the compound, the cameras, the speech they can still hear from the Gathering—“ever since.”
“He’s—”
“A domestic terrorist. A homegrown radical. A self-proclaimed prophet, but really nothing more than a cult leader and psychopath. Take your pick.”
“But he’s been…” Eva casts around, trying to figure out how to describe her encounters with Abner.
“Nice to you?” Zach supplies. “It’s an act, Eva. It’s all designed to make you feel safe and accepted. Like a part of the family. Look, there’s a whole process. First you were identified as a potential recruit.” His good eye softens. “Then it was my job to persuade you. Successful leaders inherently know how to manipulate through extreme displays of affection so recruits will be receptive to their core beliefs.”
“You identified me? You love bombed me?” Eva’s reeling, but the term floats to the surface all the same. She listened to enough true crime podcasts on the road to know the steps an abuser would take to gaslight his target. “You’re sick. This is sick.”
“I know,” Zach whispers. “I know and I’m sorry.”
“Too little too late,” she says, regret coiling in her stomach. “Why? Why did you take me to the house in Little Moose? If you were afraid Abner would come, why would you take me there?”
“I was trying to protect you. It would have been perfectly safe if you’d stayed out of sight.”
“Don’t make this my fault. I’m here because of you.”
“I know. It’s all my fault.” Zach says all in a rush: “I don’t know how much you’ve pieced together, but my father has a massive following. The Family of Zion is much more than whatever you think it is—it’s a way of living, an ideology that appeals to people all over the world.”
“I don’t understand.” Eva pulls away, and this time Zach lets her go. She studies his face, searching his eyes for answers.
“It’s a revolution, Eva. They want civil war. And not just here. They don’t like the way the world is going, and they’ve been building toward revolution for decades. They’re tech savvy and have learned how to use the internet to finance, network, coordinate, and recruit. They’re also heavily invested in social media platforms and online forums. And in order to make their message mainstream—to reach more people and turn them toward the cause—they need—”
“People like me.” All at once, Eva can see how appealing she must have seemed to Abner and his acolytes: a popular, pretty, girl next door with followers from all over the planet. She—and Eva Explores—attracted outdoorsy types who love their country and the freedom of wide-open spaces. The sort of people who live off the grid and who prize liberty and autonomy, free will and independence. There were definite crossover points that could be exploited. “But I’m—”
“Not like that. I know. As I got to know you, I understood pretty quickly that it wouldn’t work. I should have just backed away.” Zach brings his hands up to touch her cheeks, briefly, before balling them into fists at his side. “But then I fell in love.”
At this, Eva laughs. She takes another step back, putting her bad leg down so she can stand unsupported. On her own. “I don’t want to hear it,” she says through gritted teeth.
“I know. But I was under so much pressure to deliver…”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“Getting away was your idea,” Zach snaps back. “You were feeling suffocated by your mom, and when you brought up going away for a day or two, everything just fell into place.”
Did she? Did Eva bring up the idea of sneaking away? She can’t remember.
“I planned to lay low in Little Moose until everything settled down. I just wanted to keep you safe, Eva. The cabin seemed like the best bet. I figured we could work it out after we were free and clear.”
“You kidnapped me. I would have never gone with you if I knew the truth.”
Zach runs a hand over his face and flinches as he disturbs various wounds. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were going to run away together. We could have both escaped…”
“You lied to me.” Eva is shaking with outrage and grief. “If you would have just told me, if you would have trusted me enough to—”
“I know, Eva. You’re right. You’re right about everything.”
When he tugs her into his arms, Eva doesn’t push him away. She wants to—she doesn’t trust him or love him or even like him—but he’s all that she’s got right now. For just a moment she clings to him, pressing her head into his chest and wishing that they could rewind the clock.
“Look, there’s so much more I could tell you, but we’re out of time. I need you to just lay low for a couple of days. The Uprising is tomorrow. Do whatever Rachel tells you to do. Stay out of the way and—”
“The Uprising?” Eva murmurs into his shirt, her mind snagging the word. “What’s the Uprising?”
“The beginning of the end.”
“You can’t be serious.” Eva tilts her head back to study his face, but his features are carefully blank.
“I don’t want to scare you, Eva, but everything is going to change. Here—at the Gates—they’re just the tip of the spear. When they begin the Uprising, there are regiments all over the country that are poised to follow suit. It’s a country-wide coup, a chance to sow chaos and shift the balance of power. People will die, Eva.”
Eva can feel herself shutting down. It’s more than she can handle or even begin to understand. Rachel was right; they’re planning for war.
“Every book burning and protest, every alt-right rally and rumble of unrest has been leading to this. It’s unstoppable. But it’s also the perfect opportunity for us to escape. The cabin in Little Moose—”
“Was a place to hide out,” Eva cuts in, putting the pieces together. “But your father found us instead.”
“Please, just hang tight for a few more days. When everything explodes, I’ll come for you and—”
“What do you mean, ‘when everything explodes’? You’re just going to let that happen? And you expect me to ‘hang tight,’ knowing that… that your father is planning an uprising?”
