Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(8)

How many of us were there? How many of the women and maybe men had been programmed?

Sitting back at the table, I reached for the warm cup of coffee and timidly moved it toward my mouth. I’d learned to be careful. Since heat no longer registered with my fingertips, I’d burned my mouth before. Heeding the steam’s warning, I sucked my lip between my teeth and lowered the too-hot coffee back to the table. With a sickening realization, I rolled my wrists and stared at the ashen flesh on the tips of my fingers.

Oh my God!

I was one of those women—the ones with the burned fingertips, the ones from Dr. Tracy Howell’s table at the Wayne County morgue. The women who’d ended up dead.

A new chill ran through me, and I pulled my robe tighter. I wasn’t investigating a life-and-death story—I was living it!





CHAPTER 4


Sara


After waking early to my revelations I spent most of the day trudging through the thick fog of confusion. Everything took effort and concentration. Tasks that had become second nature now seemed foreign. Something as simple as making my own breakfast set my mind back. As the slices of bacon fried in the iron skillet, I had flashes of smoke and firemen.

I questioned the validity of each recalled image. Were these memories, or were they thoughts that fleetingly appeared real? Without warning doubt would creep in. What could I believe? Was I recalling my life or was it my imagination? As my bacon crackled in the pan, I reasoned that since we didn’t have firemen at the Northern Light, the images of men with heavy coats and helmets were real—a memory from the dark.

Here, in case of fire, there was an understanding that every male follower would do what was needed. I wouldn’t know that if I hadn’t overheard Jacob speak of it to one of the followers under his supervision. The threat never seemed to be a concern, but given that most of the construction—besides the wall surrounding the community—was wood, fire could be devastating.

Methodically I managed to complete each task: breakfast and work at the lab.

I was keenly aware of everything I did and said, weighing each word of my conversations, no matter with whom. As I entered the data into my computer, waves of urgency flowed through me, an undeniable desire to obtain information. Questions such as I hadn’t allowed myself to ask in months bombarded my thoughts. Why had I been placed in the chemistry lab? Did anyone know what I’d done before? What was the truth behind the manufacturing of medications by the followers? Was there more to it, or was it purely philanthropic?

With my fingers hovering above the keys and Brother Benjamin’s password repeating in my brain, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to find or even what I was looking for. And then a moment later, I’d return to my prescribed task with guilt squelching my inquisitiveness and reminding me of my place as a woman and a member of the chosen.

The entire process—from the elation of memories to the doubt and shame of questioning—was infuriating, unsettling, and tiring.

By lunchtime I was exhausted. Needing a change of scenery, I asked Dinah to accompany me to the coffee shop for a sandwich. The new surroundings didn’t help. Something about my revelations had changed everything. No longer did I see a thriving small town, but a compound or camp of sorts. I fought the need to lift my eyes and truly study the world in which I lived.

I’d been taught to keep my eyes cast downward. Yet I longed to stand and stare as I had alone in my apartment. I wanted to take in the buildings along the dirt-packed streets and paths. They now seemed solid, yet basic. While some, like the coffee shop and school, were made of sheet metal, most were made of wood like the pole barn.

The investigator in me who was trying to break free made connections I’d never before stopped to consider. Jacob had told me that near the power plant, just outside the walled community, was a small mill where followers worked to convert hundred-year-old trees into lumber. How else would they have built this place? It was in the middle of nowhere. Flying in all the construction materials would have been difficult and more expensive. From what I could remember of the planes Jacob had shown me, neither one was large enough for that.

“Do you ever think about the people Father Gabriel’s medicines help?” I asked, as I nibbled on my cold turkey sandwich.

Dinah shrugged. “I guess not really. I mean it’s a wonderful thing his ministry does. I can’t imagine not having all of my needs met.”

“Are they?”

“Are they what?”

I leaned closer. “Are all of our needs met?”

Dinah nodded. “Mine are. That’s what Father Gabriel teaches. Any needs not met aren’t necessities but desires.”

“Yes, that’s what he says. What do you think?”

“Sara! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t question Father Gabriel’s teaching and neither should you.”

“I’m not questioning it. I’m curious.”

“Are you without food, a roof, or clean clothes?” she asked.

“No.”

“How about your spiritual needs?”

“What about them?” I replied.

“Are they met?”

I swallowed a sip of my water. “Yes, of course.”

“It isn’t our place to have curiosity.”

“I know.” I hung my head. “I think I’m just missing Jacob.” Thank God I had that excuse. Otherwise I didn’t know how I’d be able to explain my odd behavior.