“What happened?”
“Lots of bad things,” she breathed out. “Lots of bad people.”
“But you made it! You were at the pinnacle of success for an artist. The money must have been great. The prestige. I knew you would make something of yourself. Proud of you, Tori.”
“Don’t be,” she mumbled. “There was a price to pay, a huge price, and it wasn’t worth it.”
He could tell she was falling asleep, but he wanted to know more, wanted her to keep talking, if only to get his mind off his surroundings.
“What price?” he asked.
But the only answer he received was the low hum of her snoring. He smiled. She’d always snored…light and soft, but a snore, nonetheless.
Reaching for her, he gently laid her head down in his lap and brushed hair from her face. How could anyone sleep so soundly when danger lurked all around? But that was Tori. World War IV could start up with nukes flying around them, and Tori would still sleep like a baby.
Not Thomas. He’d never slept well. Even with his prescribed sleeping pills, he tossed and turned like a ship in a storm.
And now, surrounded by rats and roaches and hunted like an animal, he knew he’d get no sleep at all.
???
Tori made her way across the broken asphalt that used to be an elementary school playground. Cracks lined it like an old man’s face while swings waved empty in the breeze. At one time, this had been a thriving school filled with giggling children and little bodies rushing about, full of life and hope for a future. Now, the NWU taught children online with their World Education System, aka Propaganda Bullcrap.
One glance over her shoulder told her Thomas still followed. Poor guy. He looked horrible—face pale, eyes glassy, his body shaking from detox. Not only did he lose everything important to him, but he now suffered physically. Why would he put himself through this on purpose? Give up everything to live a life of suffering when he didn’t even believe in God? Maybe the entire thing—her initial escape from prison, them being on the run now, was all part of his plan to capture more Deviants. And the most important Deviants—Nyla and Calan. And if true, then she was leading him straight to them.
She’d gotten up early that morning to pray, to ask God for discernment and wisdom, and an overwhelming peace cloaked her as she stared at Thomas asleep on the couch. Whether he was deceiving her or not, she was to continue on her present course, and the Lord would let her know if anything changed.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Lord,” she had prayed, and she’d sensed Him smiling at her, something she’d often sensed these past years. And that, along with His love, had kept her going, moving forward, doing His work while she could.
At least Thomas had kept the hoodie over his head. Her brother-in-law’s clothing fit him well, perhaps a bit tight, but she’d finally convinced him that he’d be far more comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt, and tennies, than the designer junk he’d been wearing. Tori had also been happy to exchange her shorts for a pair of her sister’s jeans and her flip-flops for some running shoes. With a baseball hat shoved atop her head, she, too, did her best to avoid cameras.
Her heart took up a rapid beat as they approached the abandoned school that had housed the underground church and home for unwed mothers she had run. Hopefully, it was the last place they would look for her since they’d raided the place six months ago. Besides, she sensed in her spirit someone was still here, someone who had escaped the chaos of the raid and was waiting for her. That still, small voice had never let her down.
“What are we doing here?” Thomas came up from behind as she swung open a back door and entered the building.
“Meeting someone.”
“I’m so cold,” he said. “And hungry. Any food in here?”
Cold? Tori glanced outside where the rays of an angry sun heated everything to near melting. The sun had grown hotter these past years, nearly unbearable during the middle of the day.
“Sorry, no food. Follow me.” She moved down a long hallway into what used to be the lunchroom, then behind the kitchen and down a set of stairs into a storage room. Each step brought back memories of her brothers and sisters who met here for worship, Bible reading, and fellowship. She could almost hear their voices singing, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.” She smiled. Other memories surfaced, of pregnant women seeking refuge from state-mandated abortions, and babies born and nursed in this place where God’s Holy Angels protected them.
Until the fateful night of the NWU raid.
She took the final step into the storage room that used to house textbooks and crayons, paper and pencils, art, science, and sports equipment, but was now covered in cushions, blankets and towels.
Thomas entered behind her and plunked down on the floor with a moan.
A footstep. A shriek. Tori swung to her left, ready to fight or run.
Brianna stepped out from the shadows, baby Callie in her arms, and Carla clinging to her pants. She smiled at Tori, tears streaming down her face.
Tori flew into her arms. “You’re here! The Lord told me someone was here! I’m so happy to see you! Are you well?” Pushing back from the woman, she examined her from head to toe, then leaned to kiss the baby in her arms.
“We didn’t know if you’d be here, but we heard that you escaped, and we thought…we thought you might show up.” Brianna half-laughed, half-sobbed.
“Tori!” Three-year-old Carla squealed.
