A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(19)

“I’ve been here nine months.”

“When did Pete start the camp?”

“Pete took it over. The man who had started it left after only two months.” She huffed, expressing her scorn for the quitter. “That was about a year ago.”

“Pete seems to be doing a good job.”

“He is.” Admiration for Pete rang in Vera’s voice. “This is a secure place, and I feel incredibly safe. No foreigners. These are all good, brave men who just want to live in America’s Preserve as the Constitution said we could.”

“Ah . . . that’s nice to hear.” I don’t want to hear her definition of foreigner.

“Children are being raised right. We’ve got a good teacher who doesn’t clutter their brains with useless subjects. They are taught what they need to know.”

“How many children are here?”

“Nine—including two toddlers. Sadie teaches them. She used to work in a school.”

Work in a school did not mean “be a teacher.”

“I’m glad Pete has made education a priority,” Mercy said. “Setting up a school can be expensive.”

“Oh, we don’t really need any supplies. Sadie uses the oral tradition—how schooling used to be. Memorization and recitation are their tools. The children’s minds aren’t cluttered with video games and television, so they perform better.”

Mercy couldn’t speak for a long moment. “Can they read?” Her words sounded strangled.

Vera frowned, no pause in her rapid gait. “Lotta lies printed out there. Stuff they’re better off not reading. We teach them that a man’s spoken word is his bond.”

She’d stumbled into the Stone Age.

“Honor is important.” Mercy couldn’t think of anything else agreeable to say.

“Absolutely. Lying isn’t tolerated here.” She turned and scrutinized Mercy. “The average person tells seven lies a day. It’s so ingrained in our behavior that we don’t know we’re doing it. White lies, little deceits. Usually they’re not intentional, but I recommend you start paying attention to what you say—you will be challenged if you lie.”

“Good to know,” Mercy choked out. What are the consequences?

They reached one of the buildings that hadn’t been renovated. The porch sagged, and dry rot was visible around the doorframe. “Here we go,” Vera stated as she opened the door. “We have a large room at the back with bunks, and then this is the community area in the front. Two bathrooms, but one is out of service at the moment.”

“How many women?”

“You’re number eleven.”

Eleven women; one bathroom.

The building was silent. Two mismatched couches were pushed against the walls of the room. A few old lamps and some chairs completed the community area. No curtains, no wall art.

It was dismal.

“Come this way.” Vera waved for Mercy to follow her down a narrow hall. They passed two closed doors, one with an OUT OF ORDER sign tacked to it. Vera pushed open a third door. “This room is for sleeping only. You’ll have a box to store your clothing that slides under the bed.”

Mercy counted six sets of bunk beds. Vera pointed at one directly in the center of the room. “The lower is yours.”

No privacy. All four sides of the bed were open to anyone in the room, and it held a two-inch-thick, heavily stained mattress. Clearly the worst location and probably the oldest mattress in the cabin.

“You start at the bottom here and work your way up,” Vera said, watching Mercy eye the mattress. “Good work will be rewarded.”

Pete had said everyone was equal.

She wondered what his sleeping conditions were like.

A cough pulled her attention to a bunk in the corner. In the shadows a woman partially sat up, her weight on one arm.

“Cindy?” Vera snapped. “You didn’t tell me you couldn’t make duty.”

“I’m on my way. Breakfast didn’t sit well in my stomach, and I had a rough morning.” Cindy sat up all the way and leaned forward, bringing her face into the light. She looked about Mercy’s age, and her hair clumped in long strands, desperately in need of a wash. She awkwardly pushed to her feet, and Mercy caught her breath.

Cindy was hugely pregnant. Bigger than Rose had been at the end of her pregnancy. Mercy tensed with worry, her mind cluttered with questions. How far away is the hospital? What if the roads are icy? Is there a doctor nearby?

“You must be Jessica,” Cindy said softly. “You’re a nurse, right? I’m so glad to have some medical help here now.”

Mercy froze. She knew some medical basics. The ABCs. Airway, Breathing, Circulation. How to stop bleeding, how to splint bones, how to treat infections.

Not how to handle pregnancy emergencies.

“Wh-when are you due?” Mercy’s mouth was dry.

“Soon, I think.”

“Have you seen an obstetrician?”

Cindy put a hand on her stomach. A familiar gesture Rose had made a hundred times. “No, but I can feel the baby moving, so everything is okay.” She panted, trying to catch her breath.

Mercy turned to Vera. “I don’t know anything about pregnancy. She needs to be closer to medical care. What if she goes into labor?”