“I know.”
“And Isaiah won’t go down without a fight.”
“What do you mean?”
She’d skipped too far ahead, she could tell, straight fromfuckto furor. “If the police come, he’ll be…dangerous. He believes it’s his divine right to live on that mountain, to be there and protect what’s his.”
“I don’t—”
“They’re all waiting for the Apocalypse, Luc. They’re expecting the End of Days. And Isaiah would not be against bringing it about himself, if need be.”
“Why?”
“He’s the Messiah. At least, he thinks he is. And everyone there believes it. The ones who don’t…” She spread her hands, sank forward more.
“The ones who don’t?” he asked, his voice harsh.
“Well, you’ve seen what they…” She blew out a hard breath. “My back was the best-case scenario.”
“Fuck,” he whispered, which made her release a small, strange laugh, even though laughing hurt.
“Yes indeed. Fuck.”
They were on Main Street, which was fully plowed, the few unfortunate cars parked on the sides covered in snow. A couple businesses appeared to be open, and the town’s holiday lights were still up, each old-fashioned lamppost trimmed with greenery and a bright-red bow, even though it was too late in the season.
Out of the blue, she said, “We don’t celebrate Christmas like the rest of you.”
“Hein?”
“In our Church, Christmas is for praying, on your knees. There’s no celebration, no gifts. Just singing. And listening to scripture. And Isaiah’s word.”
“What does he say?”
“The Cataclysm is nigh. We must prepare for the Day. We are all upon this earth to suffer.”
“He makes certain of that, doesn’t he? Does everybody… Does he brand all of his people?”
She shook her head, let it wobble on her neck. “No. No, no. Only women get branded. And…and girls.”
“All of them?” He looked at her and back to the road.
A harsh laugh erupted from her lips, and Abby fought it back, because it hurt. Everything hurt. “No. You ask for the brand. I’ve gotten so many now, I’mspecial.” In the silence, Abby turned to look out the window, admiring the town under its blanket of snow. She’d like to live on a road like this; she’d like a house with black shutters like the ones on the antique place, which doubled as a bed-and-breakfast. Smoke puffed out of its chimney. They were racing by, racing by so fast, all of it smears of color against the window.
“Abby?” Luc’s voice was far away, and when she turned, she couldn’t seem to catch him with her eyes. If only things would stop spinning so she could catch him with her eyes.
* * *
Frantic, Luc pulled over into the first plowed parking area he found, in front of the coffee shop. He checked the phone, which had charged too slowly and was only at eleven percent. Without considering his actions, he dialed the sheriff’s number. After a couple of rings, the familiar voice answered.
“Navarro.”
“Sheriff, it’s Luc Stanek. I…I have an emergency. I need help.”
“What’s the emergency, sir?”
“Abby. The woman I told you about? She’s here, I have her. She’s…she’s hurt and…” He swallowed, feeling his betrayal of her, as solid as the dog in the back seat.
“Where are you?”
