Previous chapter - The Last 3 Days (11): Blueberries and Shariah Law
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39:41:56
Surrounded by the familiar, Jay walked back to his apartment on autopilot, hands in his pockets while his mind worked to reconcile his wish to go home with his fear of having to face his mother.
After what he did, he thought, there’s no going back.
He barely registered the big black SUV at the curb, other than to catch his reflection in a tinted window. Nor did he hear the doors open behind him and so was caught unawares when shrouded by an industrial-sized black plastic garbage bag. And then it was too late to resist being tossed into the rear footwell of the vehicle and held there under the pressure of two pairs of feet.
39:32:33
Keeping to the packed gravel road as Tomas had instructed, Nick studied the silent cluster of buildings he had been warned to avoid. ‘NO TRESPASSING’ signs were posted at regular intervals along the expanse of white-washed wood slats of an imposing fence.
Set so far away from the road as to seem reclusive, the grounds and buildings were orderly and well maintained, the community so quiet it appeared deserted.
But as he neared a boundary corner, he stopped and sniffed the air.
“Is that barbecue?”
His stomach was certain, and brooked no resistance. Nick found himself striding through the long grass to the shoulder-high fence and then clambering over.
The grass on the community’s side of the fence was greener, and neatly trimmed.
Following his nose, he walked between a pair of long barns with regularly spaced doors. The doors were newly padlocked, the silence so complete it seemed alien.
He paused at the corner, unnerved by the lack of life, but there the scent of grilled meat strengthened. Across an open space marked by tire tracks, he found smaller storage buildings also locked tight.
There should have been dozens of people, he reasoned, based on the numbers and size of the structures, so where were they?
He looked back the way he had come, debating whether to retreat when he caught the tinkle of a child’s laugh ahead.
Reassured of other life, he moved faster now, passing among modest, nearly identical homes, all dark and shuttered.
A ghostly figure in white flashed across his path beyond the rows of houses, then another and another. Children.
A growing murmur drew him forward and into another green area, much bigger than the others and bordered by identical buildings on three sides. A large crowd gathered on the fourth side, in front of a community centre, all facing its brightly lit entrance.
A chaotic flock of girls dressed in identical white dresses chased one another across the grass, but as he walked among them their laughter dwindled and they stopped their play to watch him pass.
Soon the first adult faces turned to study him, conversations dissolving into low whispers. The first thing Nick noticed was that women outnumbered men three-to-one.
The women wore long-sleeved, ankle length dresses in various shades of grey, depending on age. Young women, by far the largest group, dressed in light grey, the more mature females in dark grey and elders in black. Each wore a matching head scarf.
Though all the men were bearded and wore black pants and narrow suspenders, their age groups are also reflected in the shades of their shirts.
Everyone, regardless of gender or maturity, sported a simple silver cross on a chain.
As he approached, more and more of those gathered watched him, and Nick was relieved to see expressions of curiosity and interest, even concern for his bruises, rather than wariness or alarm.
Halting several paces away, he held his arms out, palms open to show he held no weapon. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Nick. I saw the ‘No trespassing’ signs, but I really need some help.”
The silent crowd parted before him.
39:31:23
Face down in the rear foot well of the SUV and kept in place by Dave and Steve’s feet, Jay struggled to breathe within his plastic shroud.
The vehicle slowed, made a short series of turns and stopped.
Then he was dragged out by his feet and helped to stand, before being roughly escorted into a building.
39:31:01
Nick walked down the funnel of silent people, smiling at as many he could and glad of how many were returned.
As the last of the crowd stood aside, he found his path is blocked by a young man in a white shirt whose folded arms and stern expression implied anything but welcome. He seemed young to hold the authority he clearly did, despite his physical bulk and beauty.
Nick’s smile wavered. “Hello. My name is Nick. I’m sorry for trespassing, but I’m lost and hungry and trying to get home.”
“Begone,” the man said. “We have nothing for you.”
Nick hardly heard him, his attention on a pair of commercial barbecues loaded with sizzling meat.
“But — “
The man stepped forward. “I am the First Consort and I say leave us. Now.”
Nick took a pace backwards. “Can I at least use a phone?”
Pointing out two young men in light grey, the man growled, “Remove him.”
Nick glanced about for an escape route, but the crowd surrounded him.
Then a woman’s voice said, “Hold,” and the young men went still.
Gretchen Hoag stepped from behind the burly man in white, her smile sincere. “Be welcome to Benevolence.” Surrounded by grey, her white dress seemed to gather the last light of dusk.
She circled Nick, evaluating him like a prize stud, and then took his arm in hers.
“It is our good fortune you trespassed just in time join our supper,” she added, her mouth close to his ear as if they were alone.
“Send him on his way, Gretchen,” the Consort demanded. “He is not one of us.”
Acknowledging the man’s animosity, Nick turned to leave, but Gretchen’s hold was firm.
“And yet he is delivered to us like a divine gift. Step aside.”
The Consort held his ground. “Will you risk our endeavour at this late hour?”
As much as the man intimidated Nick, Gretchen ignored him. “Is it a risk to improve our stock?”
“You risk a lifetime of planning. What good — ”
Gretchen held up her hand, the gesture silencing him.
“Consider our need in the face of the coming trial.”
Nick, desperate for context, asked, “What endeavour? Whose stock? I just want to get home.”
Gretchen’s smile widened. “Let us eat and then I will explain.”
39:27:54
Don faced Nick’s friend Barry and his mother on their porch.
Barry scrolled through his social media. “If there’s any sign of him online, I’ll find it.”
“I’m sorry we can’t be of more help,” Barry’s mother said, her arm draped over her son’s shoulder.
“Thanks for your time,” Don replied, pocketing his pen before holding his hand out for Barry’s mother to shake. “You have my card. Please call immediately if you hear from Nick.”
At his mother’s urging, Barry hiked up his pants and entered the house.
Don pulled the cruiser’s door shut and flicked the switch for the cabin light, searching for the next contact in his son’s phone. There were so many.
39:25:47
The Benevolence community centre recalled a bygone time, before craftsmanship surrendered to industrial efficiency. Constructed entirely of wood hand-shaped and assembled, the structure spoke of pride and common benefit.
Orderly ranks of tables filled the main hall, set for a feast. Overlooking the room from the rear wall was a huge painting of Noah Hoag.
Still holding Nick’s arm, Gretchen paused. “All we are, we owe to him. Noah Hoag. Pastor, Prophet and founder of this community. My father.”
She led Nick to the head table, set on a low platform beneath the painting.
Seated to Gretchen’s left, Nick watched the community members file in and take their seats. Conversation was muted.
The First Consort supervised placement of the platters of grilled meat, indicating tables in turn. With a last glance outside, he closed the doors behind him then strode to his seat on Gretchen’s right.
Those men and women in black, elders all, sat together at the tables nearest Nick. Those wearing dark grey sat surrounded by children.
The young adults in light grey filled the rear tables — those who are not delivering platters of food or filling water glasses.
Soon everyone had taken their seats, their silent attention on Gretchen, though Nick noticed more than a few of the young women studied him with degrees of interest.
Gretchen stood. “Be welcome, brethren of Benevolence. We gather tonight beneath the gaze of our saviour to celebrate his purpose and give thanks to the clarity of his vision. Be not afraid. We are ready for what lies ahead.”
Opening her arms to encompass everyone, she continued. “Let us pray.”
39:19:27
Gasping for breath, Jay staggered backwards when the garbage bag was ripped away. He recognized the high school gym before a violent shove from behind sent him sprawling at Ryan’s feet.
Ryan could not remember being happier.
“Now, that’s more like it,” he announced. “Just like your buddy last night. You won’t be seeing him again.”
Jay said nothing, instead pushing himself up on his hands and knees. Ryan delivered a vicious kick that drove the air from his lungs and flattened him again.
“Pick him up.”
Steve and Dave each grabbed one of Jay’s arms. Lowering their shoulders, they hoisted Jay up to hang between them, his feet above the ground and his chin on his chest.
Ryan laughed. “Welcome to your crucifixion, Jay.”
Lunging forward, Ryan threw punch after punch, stopping only to catch his breath.
“Bobby. Your turn.”
Bobby grabbed a handful of hair, lifted Jay’s head. “No point. He’s out. Leave him and let’s go.”
Shaking his head, Ryan said, “I’m not done yet.”
Also published here.