Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(86)

Abraham shook his head. “That’s not what I was told. I was told that I’m supposed to be here until you find something that Brother Noah needs . . . something Brother Michael from the Western Light never intended for Brother Reuben to give to you. I heard you screwed up and if you don’t find this thing, you’re not the only one who’ll suffer.”

Veiled threats against Sara were becoming less veiled.

I opened the truck’s door and started walking in the direction of the hangar. Pointing behind me, I called over my shoulder, “There’s the living quarters. I don’t need a damn babysitter.” Without turning, I knew Abraham hadn’t listened and was following in my direction. As I opened the door to the middle part of the pole barn, the area before the hangar, his footsteps got closer.

“I was told to not to let you out of my sight. I follow Father Gabriel’s orders.”

Asshole.

The hallway veered to the left and ran through the center of the building, allowing space for the offices on the right and workshops on the left. If I wanted to be nice, I could have flipped the switch and turned on the lights, but I wasn’t being nice. Besides, the hangar had windows, and the beams from the perpetual sunshine created a literal light at the end of the tunnel.

“Fine, whatever,” I offered sarcastically. “Knock yourself out.”

Only our boots echoed against the concrete floor as we made our way down the hall. When I reached for the handle of the door at the end of the hallway, the one leading to the hangar, my steps stopped. I spun backward, my movement precipitated by a loud thud followed by another odd noise that had come from behind me. I watched, in shock, as Abraham fell to the floor, his knees buckling before he fell backward. A sickening squish—like the sound of a dropped watermelon—filled the hallway as his skull made contact with the concrete. Within seconds a dark pool of liquid began to form around his head.

When I dragged my gaze away from Abraham, my eyes met Benjamin’s. In his shaking hand was a large wrench, now dripping with the blood of our Assembly brother. I rushed toward Benjamin and, before he could say a word, wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“You’re alive! I’m so sorry.” My emotions were jacked. Guilt flooded through me, guilt at what had happened to him and to Raquel because of me. “I’m sorry about you and Raquel. I never thought about the cell towers.”

Benjamin’s shoulders hunched forward as his head moved from side to side. Very quietly, he whispered, “Microphones? Out here?”

“Didn’t used to be,” I answered softly, flipping the switch to acknowledge his concern. The bright light brought crimson to the dark pool around Abraham’s head. I looked away, focusing on the ceiling and seams in the tiles. I scanned the floorboards and door frames. “No, there’re none in here. There are some out in the hangar, but we usually only turn them on during loading and unloading of merchandise and supplies.” I shrugged. “That doesn’t mean they’re not on now. I don’t know what the hell’s happening.”

“Sara?” he asked.

Pressing my lips together, I slowly shook my head. “She’s still at the Eastern Light. Father Gabriel’s holding her there until I get him some envelope I was given at the Western Light.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I just can’t remember what I did with it. It was when Sara . . .” I let my words trail away. We both knew what’d happened. We were both living with the consequences.

I took a step back as the loud clank of the wrench hitting the floor reverberated through the air, and scanned Benjamin up and down. Normally, he was well dressed, always neat and clean. Not now. Today his pants were torn and the knees were covered with dirt and grass stains. His shirt hung loose and was equally filthy. On his shirt were smears of blood, and, judging by the color, it was dry and hadn’t come from Abraham.

“What happened? I thought they said . . .” I didn’t want to say the word banished.

It was as if someone had deflated Benjamin, as if he were a balloon losing air. His entire body shrank and lines covered his face as he cleared his throat to speak. “Him,” he said. “Him!” He spoke louder, kicking Abraham’s side. The man didn’t move. With the way his skull was opened, with some sort of gray matter visible, I was pretty sure he never would.

“He what?”

Benjamin took a step back, avoiding the growing pool of blood. “While I was at the lab, he went to our apartment, to the place we lived, our home! He questioned Raquel.”

My already knotted stomach convulsed. “Questioned?”

In Benjamin’s dark eyes, which usually held compassion and understanding, I saw an unfamiliar glare of hatred.

“Questioned,” he repeated through locked jaws. “I had no idea it was happening. It wasn’t until I was called to the temple to the Assembly room that I knew anything about it. Something to do with isolating the location of the phone and only two possibilities.”

I nodded. “The Commission told me, Raquel or Sara.”

“I told them I’d talked to you, on our regular phones. I had no idea where it was leading, but with all four of them sitting there he”—Benjamin nodded his head toward Abraham—“brought her to me.” Tears descended his cheeks, clearing paths through the dirt, grime, and blood. “She was crying, and bruised, and upset, and apologizing. I wanted to kill Abraham. I wanted to kill them all.”