Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(69)

Perspiration dotted my brow. The possibilities were multiplying, and each one added to my apprehension.

As soon as we arrived, I planned to check the cockpit of the smaller plane, after I made damn sure Father Gabriel got to his apartment or the temple, or wherever he wanted to be to make that damn phone call to Elijah.

Delivering that envelope was the first step toward buying me the time I needed—just a couple of days.





CHAPTER 26


Sara


Though my eyes ached to open, I stayed still, contemplating my next move as questions bombarded my mind, momentarily quelling the fear I should have been feeling at my new circumstance.

Was I being watched? How would I escape? How, in this day and age, could this be happening? How did one man have so much power?

The answer to the final question was simple. We, Father Gabriel’s followers, had given it to him. With each follower—chosen or otherwise—we’d given him our minds and our bodies. We’d willingly done his bidding, physical or psychological, without considering the consequences or the human toll.

Each day without my medicine made the world clearer. I could look upon The Light with a new perspective. The daily psychological warfare was fierce and perfectly executed. If it were only a religious cult, it would be well planned, but now, considering the numbers I’d seen at the lab combined with the small bit of information Jacob had shared during our late-night talk about the pharmaceutical enterprise, the operation as a whole was flawless.

Each and every person in The Light fortified Father Gabriel’s strength. He couldn’t do what he did alone, but with nearly a thousand people, he moved mountains and ruined lives. He did it in the name of God, but he was the only one profiting. Each of us was made to believe that without him we’d be no one. The reality was the opposite.

Without us, he’d be nothing.

I recalled the young couple at the temple yesterday. In front of more than a hundred followers, Father Gabriel had ordered their deaths. Then today he’d ordered mine. Not literal death, but the death of Sara Adams. He’d said the loss of my memories of the last nine months was necessary for reassignment.

Were women so worthless in his mind that he could manipulate their lives as if they were toys he could take from one man and give to another?

As my memories of life in the dark and in The Light continued to blend, I recalled a prayer Jacob had said on one of my first days as Sara. At the time I hadn’t understood the full impact. I hadn’t been able to comprehend. Now I did. Jacob had said the prayer as I was about to eat for the first time. He’d said, “Let this food be a reminder that privileges given can be taken away.” That’s what Father Gabriel had done today. The life Jacob and I’d built, no matter how perverse our circumstances, had been a privilege, and in a simple declaration Father Gabriel had taken it away.

Perhaps I was suffering from dissociative identity disorder. As I lay motionless, I had the unreal ability to see everything from two different perspectives—Sara’s and Stella’s. I recognized how well The Light had conditioned me. If it hadn’t, I would have fought the descent into this cold dungeon. Most normal people would. However, from this dual perspective I could assess that as Sara I was no longer normal. I’d been conditioned to accept that the men knew best and to never question.

Though there was a sense of peace in that mentality. I would fight heaven and hell to stop them from doing it to me again. I wasn’t in the circumpolar North. I was in an upscale community in Michigan. All I had to do was get out of this compound and get to the FBI. Though that seemed a difficult goal, considering the obstacles I’d already survived, it wasn’t impossible.

As both mind-sets settled into my psyche, I took Sara’s peace and put my trust in the man who’d kept me safe for the last nine months. I also took Stella’s fear and let it come to life. Fear had a purpose. It kept people safe. It was that little voice that said not to go down the dark alleyway, or the rapid pulse that occurred when things weren’t as they appeared. Fear happened for a reason, and I needed to embrace it.

To survive this, I needed both, the peace and the panic. I needed out of this basement.

Muffled voices continued to waft from the other side of my locked door. Though some were louder than others, I couldn’t make out the words; however, I recognized both voices. I also heard the emotion in both. I had difficulty comprehending that Jacob and Dylan were even talking to each other, but recognized that the absurdity was more than coincidence.

I tried to recall all I’d heard in Father Gabriel’s office. I didn’t have enough understanding for any of it to make sense. We had been prepared for the test. When I’d called Dylan Brother, it hadn’t been a Herculean effort. Though I’d known him in what seemed like another life, he hadn’t been introduced to me. Until Father Gabriel gave his permission, I hadn’t been told I could even speak to him. Therefore, once I was granted permission, the title came without thought. After all, as Sara, I knew that all men deserved a title.

Definitely dissociative identity disorder.

I’d hoped that after announcing my pregnancy I’d be allowed to stay with my husband. Since that’d been my goal, I’d failed. However, the announcement may have helped me avoid the drug Brother Elijah had planned to inject. Though Jacob was the one who initially stopped Brother Elijah, we both knew Jacob’s power was limited. He and Brother Elijah were both Assemblymen. Father Gabriel’s decrees were the final word. Then again, it wasn’t any of them who’d stopped the injection. It was Dylan.