A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(18)

Pete sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “We have a philosophy. A way of working together. Everyone has to fulfill their role, or the entire system falls apart. We’re dependent on each other.”

“I understand. I’ve always been a team player, but what kind of role will I have?”

Pete studied her for a moment. “I don’t know just yet. We’ll try you out in a few positions. I’ve found that the best role usually exposes itself. You have a medical background, right?”

“I have an associate’s in nursing.”

“We need someone to be in charge of health care.”

“Oh!” Mercy straightened. “I’m not a doctor. You need someone more skilled than me to do that.”

“We’ll see,” Pete said noncommittally. “What else can you do?”

“Ummm . . . I was a waitress, but I’m not much of a cook.”

“Childcare?”

“I guess.” Does living with a teenager count?

“Things are run differently here. You won’t have any Ponzi-scheme government retirement to rely on. No FDA telling you what you can’t eat. No fake news stations telling you what to believe.”

“That’s why Chad and I are here,” Mercy said. “We wanted to start fresh, and I hate that I can’t turn around without tripping over laws and taxes.” She counted on her fingers. “Taxes on cars, taxes on property, laws to regulate absolutely everything.” She met his gaze. “I love my country, but some things are out of hand. My paycheck gets smaller every year, and that missing money goes to rich men who are only trying to get richer.”

Pete nodded slowly.

Mercy was confident she’d said the right thing.

“You’ll have to give up some liberties to live here. To have true unity, we all have to be equal. Your life won’t be the same.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms and giving her a hard stare. “It won’t be easy.” The understanding, friendly commander was gone.

He’s attempting to trigger my anxiety.

Mercy recognized the interrogation technique; she’d used it many times. Heightened anxiety could make the subject reveal deceptive behaviors. Rubbing their nose, pulling an ear, twisting hair, stalling between answers.

He wanted to see if she was hiding something.

She held perfectly still and focused on his eyes.

“I know. But from what Chad has told me, I’ll gain so much more.” She removed her phone from her pocket and balanced it on her palm. “I was told no phones.” Her fingers closed around the phone as she looked at it regretfully. “I don’t need to see what my friends are eating for dinner or what their kids wore to school.” She extended the phone to him.

He took it while watching her with curious eyes.

She lifted her chin. “It’ll take a while, but I’ll get used to no phone. It’s more of a habit than anything else.”

“Did Chad tell you you’ll be bunking with the other women for now?”

“Yes.”

She kept her face expressionless as he studied her for a long moment, probably expecting a protest against the sleeping arrangements. She repressed an overwhelming urge to scratch her nose.

“I’ll get Vera to show you where you’re staying. She is your superior. All the women answer to her, and she answers to me.”

He turned his back, and her interview was over.

I think I passed.



In the room outside Pete’s office Mercy stood motionless, her arms held out from her sides and her eyes focused on the ugly plaid curtains as Vera Warner’s hands explored below her breasts.

Vera grimaced. “I’m sorry. Everyone gets searched when they first arrive. You never know what people are trying to sneak in.” Vera was alarmingly thin, and her skin was tinged with an odd yellow undertone that made her look sickly. Her dark hair was pulled tight against her head in a ponytail, enhancing her narrow face. Blue veins branched along her temples and the sides of her neck.

“I get it,” Mercy murmured. At least Vera had told her there wouldn’t be a cavity search. “What do people sneak in besides phones?”

“Mainly drugs.”

“Pete runs a tight ship?”

“The tightest. No drugs of any kind allowed.”

“What about necessary prescriptions?”

“Are they truly necessary?” Vera took on a lecturing tone. “People are put on medications to keep the pharmaceutical companies in business. Doctors get kickbacks for every medication they prescribe. The public has been brainwashed to believe they can heal with only the right pill. You’d be surprised what a few weeks of honest physical labor and clean air can do for a person. It’s the cure to many ills.”

Mercy bit her tongue before she argued that labor was no substitute for insulin or an emergency epinephrine dose for anaphylaxis. Vera finished her pat down. She’d been thorough, even making Mercy remove her boots for a close examination. She gestured for Mercy to grab her bags and led her out of the command center.

The zipper on Mercy’s duffel was not in the position in which she’d left it.

Not surprised.

“How long have you lived here?” Mercy asked as she jogged to catch up with the woman. Vera’s thin legs took incredibly long strides, and her jeans were slightly too short, exposing grimy socks above her hiking boots. The brown canvas coat with a sheep’s-wool collar was several sizes too large and hung loosely on her.