We need to get out of here fast for that reason alone.
At dawn, a loud bell clangs in the Training House asan infuriatingly grating wake-up call. Then we spend the morning baking bread.
Well, the other women do. They mix dough, form loaves, let them rise, and put them into a big stone fire oven. Over and over again.
I mostly make a mess.
Instead of being paired with Burgundy, I’m stuck with one of the more advanced women in the house named Ruth. She’s supposed to be giving me instructions, but she mostly talks down to me and sneers over my efforts. I grit my teeth and manage not to snap back at her, but it takes more restraint than I knew I possessed.
It’s only the hope of escape that holds my tongue.
I keep brainstorming for a way out of the compound, scanning surroundings and routines every time I leave the building, but I don’t see any obvious escape route. We might not be inside the inner walls—if we were there, we’d have almost no chance—but there are always guards stationed around the Training House, more making regular patrols through the farm and courtyards, and even more manning every locked and barred gate.
How the hell are Burgundy and I going to do this?
If I had the opportunity to chat with her, I’d ask her for more details on guard duties and geography, but we don’t have a single opportunity to speak all morning. Lunch is eaten at a communal table in silence, so all I can do is occasionally meet her eyes. Then we have sewingcircle in the afternoon, and gossip isn’t allowed there either.
All in all, it’s a miserable, despairing day. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten Burgundy’s hopes up.
The sewing circle is interrupted when one of the elders calls an assembly. Everyone who isn’t currently serving an essential duty has to make their way to a big open field between the farm and the Training House, and we get preached at some more—this time for more than an hour about the sacred roles of men and women until the purpose of the assembly finally is made clear.
That elder is about to take one of the women in the Training House as a wife.
His fourth wife, if the three wives lined up behind him are the extent of his current harem.
This kind of hypocrisy is the stuff of nightmares. I’d rather men openly behave as monsters than hide behind pious, self-righteous masks and justify their evil with religious proclamations.
This whole compound is kind of like my family was—only a thousand times worse. Using the Bible as a weapon to elevate themselves and lash out at everyone they hate.
Burgundy has managed to maneuver herself so she’s standing beside me for the assembly. During the cheers and applause that follows the wedding ceremony, I catch her eye and make a very quick expression of disgust.
She nods, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she leans toward me and murmurs, “We’re forced into theseassemblies at least a couple of times a week, whenever one of the elders needs to feel more important or go on a crusade.”
“A crusade?”
“To capture women usually. Or attack people they believe have done them wrong.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. And all under the guise of doing God’s will. Being good Christians.” She shakes her head, keeping her voice so soft I can barely hear her only inches away. “Iama Christian, and it’s notthis.”
I liked Burgundy from the beginning, but the bone-dry bitterness I catch in her quiet tone speaks to me, makes her feel like kin in a way she hadn’t before.
I’ve never cared one way or the other about religion. It mostly left a bad taste in my mouth because of my experiences with my family. But at this moment I know exactly how Burgundy feels.
The assembly breaks up at last, and as we’re walking back to the Training House, I notice a woman from one of the bunks near ours dragging a huge metal bin behind her, escorted by an armed guard. They’re walking in the opposite direction from the rest of us.
“What’s going on there?” I murmur, keeping my eyes focused ahead the way Burgundy did earlier.
It only takes her a minute to figure out what I’m talking about. “Hauling compost. It’s punishment for women who misbehave.”
I clear my throat as I watch the woman and the guard walking toward one of the back gates. “Do they dump the compost outside the walls?”
Burgundy goes still for just a moment. “Yes. But never without a guard.”
I’m thinking fast, filled with the first surge of hope I’ve had all day. “Just one guard?”
“Y-yes. Although there are also the guards at the gate.”
