I lose it, just like in the classroom. But this time I know who I’m going to hit. I go straight for Caleb, and I see him drop the chain and step back and aim that gun he has and I don’t care—I’m too angry and too scared and I just want it to stop.
Sam moves between us, and I skid to a stop because I don’t care if I get shot, I don’t, but not him. “Easy,” he says again. “Breathe, Connor. Breathe—”
Caleb puts the muzzle of his rifle to the side of Sam’s head. “Back up, Brother Connor. Right now. Or this is your fault.”
“It’s not,” Sam says. “Remember that.”
One of the other men punches Sam in the side, and he cries out and nearly goes down. Somehow he doesn’t, and it’s all I can stand not to go charging at them again. I know it’s stupid. But I have to do something.
“He’s right, Connor. It’s not really your fault,” Father Tom says, like none of this is happening. “You’ve been poisoned by women your whole life. Especially your mother.”
Sam looks like he’d say something to that. I say it for him. “My mother’s the strongest person in the world.”
“It’s not your fault you think so. You’ve been brainwashed. Female strength is inferior. They’re incomplete, made from the rib of a man. They were made by God to serve.”
Sam gets his breath then, and he says, “Save it. It’s not going to work. Connor knows better. Weak men believe shit like this. Weak men like these assholes.” He jerks his head toward Caleb, and I know Caleb’s about to punch him again and I need to make it stop.
“Brother Caleb,” Father Tom says, and stops it for me. “There’s no need for that. We’re not here to torture the man.”
From the expression on Caleb’s face, he’d like to do it anyway. But now I’m scared what’s coming. Sam looks so tired; he’s fighting to stay on his feet. He’s doing that for me. The sound of the waterfall is like a drill whining through my skull, tunneling right through bone.
“I want to believe in your ability to change, Brother Connor,” Father Tom says. “But you’ve shown poor judgment too many times in a short period of time. I think it’s time you were baptized. I think you’d be of more use to us if you join our army of saints.” I don’t know what that last part means. I don’t think it’s good; it feels like something awful is in the air now.
The men standing around us say, “Amen.”
“Come with me, boy,” he says to me, and puts his hand on my shoulder, just the way all those men did in the church when they welcomed me in. “Let me anoint you with holy waters.”
“No!” Sam shouts. He lunges forward, and Caleb grabs the chain again and yanks him back. He fights, and I’m afraid he’s going to choke. I can’t stand this, can’t stand seeing them hurt him.
“Okay!” I shout. “Okay! I’ll go! Dad, it’s okay!”
He keeps on struggling. They push him down on his knees. I can’t look. I need to do this so they’ll stop. It’s just water. It’s nothing.
Father Tom leads me into the lake. Two steps and the bottom drops off, and I’m up to my knees. It’s freezing, so cold I’m already shaking. The water, close up, has a weird oily shine on top. It stinks.
He keeps pulling me deeper. I don’t want to go, but I need to do this. I can’t let them kill Sam, and I know they will. I can feel it.
“One more step,” Father Tom whispers in my ear. “I’ll anoint you with the holy waters and you will be one of us, Connor. A full brother of the Assembly in the sight of God. Then you’ll be worthy.”
I take another step. It’s a drop-off, and I sink fast. The water comes up to my chest. I gasp and flail. I can barely feel my feet now.
Father Tom scoops up water in both hands. I don’t want this. I don’t. I turn and look back at the shore and I see that Dad is still fighting his chains to get to me. He’s hurting himself more.
I need to just do this and get it over with. Now.
So I take a deep, unsteady breath and nod. “Okay.”
Father Tom lifts the water in his joined palms.
“Father! Someone’s at the gate!” Someone shouts it from up close to the path. “You need to come! Right now!”
Everything freezes.
Father Tom pauses, and ripples go out from him across the pond to disappear into the darkness. The only sound that continues for a moment is the dull roar of the waterfall cascading down.
Father Tom lets the water fall back into the lake, grabs my shoulder, and pushes me back toward shore. “The day of reckoning,” he shouts. “Hallelujah! Brothers, the day of reckoning is at hand!”
“Praise the lord,” the men all say. “Let his might prevail!”
“Amen, brothers. You know what to do. God be with you.”
The men all rush away, up the path, as fast as they can go. They’re gone before Father Tom and I stumble back onto the rocky shore. Caleb’s still there with his other two men and Dad. Dad’s collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard. I’m not even sure he’s fully conscious. I struggle out of the water and try to get to him, but my legs feel numb and heavy, and I don’t see it coming when Father Tom grabs me from behind by the hair. I stop because the pain is intense, like he’s set my scalp on fire. “Caleb. The prisoner goes back to his cell. Take the boy to the women. Tell Sister Harmony he is her prisoner now. She knows the penalty for failure.”
“Yes, Father,” Caleb says. He seems slightly doubtful. “So he isn’t our new messiah?”
“No,” Father Tom says, and shoves me at the man who comes to get me. “The devil has offspring too. Get him out of my sight.”
The man who takes hold of me marches me back toward the center of the camp. When I look back, they’re dragging Dad toward the shed. Father Tom is gone. I have no idea where he went.
I’m shivering and wet, and I stink of that awful water. I want to get free and get to Dad and get the hell out. I’m terrified that they’re going to hurt him more, or that he’s already so bad off that he can’t defend himself. I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know that there’s anything I can do.
Caleb shoves me into the women’s house—the Garden—and I find all the lanterns have been lit. The women’s bunkhouse isn’t very different; they’ve got the same beds, the same old military trunks, but they’ve tried to provide a little beauty here for themselves. There are flowers blooming in little planters in the windows.
The Garden.
They’ve got different Bible verses on their walls than the men do.
I count the people I see, because Mom’s always told me that information is the first step to defense. There are twelve adult women, and four who are younger teens—Aria’s in the back, and I hate the sight of her right now—and there are six younger kids, from two babies on up to about seven years old, boys and girls.
The women are all fully dressed in their long skirts and plain shirts, but some of them still have their hair in braids that I guess they do for sleeping. Sister Harmony’s blonde braid is as thick as my arm; it looks like she could whip it like a club. She meets us a few steps into the house, and Caleb thrusts me at her. She grabs me in surprise. She glares at Caleb before she remembers to look down.