“Absolutely.”
Up ahead, there’s a small group of men on the corner of what looks to be the only intersection in this downtown area.
“Get down.” I bark the order to the women and swivel in my seat to make sure they’re complying. “Ophelia, Daisy, get your heads down.”
Ophelia drops hers onto Roman’s lap, and Daisy ducks.
Our truck drives slowly past the men, who I don’t get a detailed look at because I’m too busy making sure the women aren’t visible.
“Were they from the commune, do you think?” I ask Mal as we pass by.
My heart is pounding at the thought some of those fuckers could have seen Ophelia and Daisy and might be in league with the Prophet.
Now that we’re so close, I’m beginning to seriously second guess the decision to bring Ophelia with us. I think we’ve had our judgement clouded by the fact she was taken from us, but really, if we were being analytical about this, she’d be safer at the college. Hell, I bet the Devils would have let her stay with them in their apartments, if I’d begged, and that would have been way safer than dragging her out here.
It's too late to change things now, though, and airing my concerns won’t help us, either, so I put a lid on it and focus.
“I don’t think so,” Mal says. “They were wearing modern clothing, expensive sneakers and the like. I presume that’s not what the men from your community wear, Daisy?”
“No,” she whispers from the back. “They all wear maroon.”
Her voice is shaking, and I’m worried she’s going to lose it and do something crazy.
“Good.” Mal nods. “We don’t want any of the townsfolk seeing you either, in case they recognize you. It would put you both in danger.” He glances at a couple walking down the sidewalk, hand in hand. “I presume some of the townspeople do business with the Prophet, and you said the cops are in his pocket, right, Ophelia?”
She makes a small sound of agreement in the back of her throat. “We all knew if we ran, we’d be sent straight back if law enforcement found us.”
I wonder for a moment if that means we’re going to have cops coming down on us, if anyone at the commune gets a chance to call them. The thing is, though, Ophelia only knows the cops are on the Prophet’s side because that’s what the cult members told her. What if it’s not true? What better way to make people stay than to tell them the cops are in your pocket and if they try to leave, they’ll be brought straight back?
We don’t know the truth of the situation, but there are a whole lot of possibilities of how things might work between the town and the cult. Hell, I’d bet good money there are people in this town who hate the Prophet and think he’s a total weirdo. And they’d be right, of course, in my humble opinion.
As we exit the town’s single road, after doubling back on ourselves and driving out the way we came in, I turn to the women. “We’re back on the country roads. You can sit up.”
Turning to study Daisy, I ask gently, “Can you show us how to get to the commune from here?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” A hint of impatience creeps into her voice.
I get the strongest feeling she doesn’t like me or the other guys. Maybe I’m becoming psychic, or perhaps it’s just the fact that she makes it so damn obvious.
“How far from here? How long does it take you to drive back?”
“You do drive, right?” Mal drawls. “Or do you guys use a horse and cart?”
Not fucking helpful. I punch his shoulder.
“They have vehicles,” she says. “Not many, but some.”
“How many?” I ask. That’s something else to consider. We don’t want people escaping in cars if they have lots of them.
“Farm vehicles to plow the fields and tend the land. The Prophet has a car. I think maybe some of his disciples do, but they have things in barns we aren’t allowed in.”
Ophelia nods. “Yeah, he’s quite secretive at times, even from his own people. I’m not sure even his most loyal foot soldiers know everything he has planned, or the wealth he has.”
“So, how long does it usually take?” I ask Daisy again.
