“If there are any survivors, just holler loud enough and someone will come find you.” I toss the keys onto the floor in front of Seven’s old cell and back away from the man. “And if everybody out there dies, you better hope the Feds really are on their way, because otherwise, you’ll rot in this cage the way you should be rotting in prison.”
I walk away with clarity, a sense of purpose, and a load taken off my soul.
“Hey,” he yells. “Can I ask you one last thing?”
I look over my shoulder.
“So uhh… Are you Seven’s boy—” He can’t even say the word. “You his friend?”
I just nod and turn away, leaving him to live or die. Doesn’t matter which. The only thing that matters is I won’t be the one deciding his fate.
“He drives a black sedan.” I mumble, mimicking Seven’s exact words he said to me about which car Silas drove.
There are at least twenty black sedans. Most are beaten and old, relics of the past. The ones that aren’t black appear as if they are because there is not a single source of light in this field of grass. I’m on alert, to the point of paranoia, as I approach each car. Only when I’m standing right in front of one can I tell if’s black or if it’s a darker shade of another color. Where the fuck is the moon when I need it?
I manage to find a black car and it’s unlocked. These cultist fucks don’t even bother to lock their doors. I guess that’s how much they trust each other. Trust each other to not lie, steal, cheat, lead them into temptation, or mass suicide. I used to believe trust was a characteristic best left to fools. I trust Seven, even with every reason in the world not to.
That makes me a fool, then.
A blind fool poking around in the darkness. I lean into the car and try the key, but it doesn’t fit. I slam the door and check the next car, and then the next. When I reach the end of the field and there are no more cars to search, I turn back around. Try to figure out what I missed.
I make my way through the parking lot in a hurry, straining my neck as I search both directions at once. To the left, there’s a line of trees that bleeds into the parking lot. Around the corner, there are two cars.
One black.
One white.
I rip open the door of the black one.
Smoke rises in the distance, lit only by a soft orange fire beneath.
“Jesus Christ,” I huff. “My boy did something stupid, didn’t he?”
I jump into the driver's seat. Turn the key. The engine sputters to life—and immediately dies. Right car. Bad alternator. I twist the key again, revving just as the engine chokes. The car roars to life, but in a lion cub kind of way. I flick off the headlights and tear through the damp grass field.
CHAPTER 22
SEVEN
I takeshelter in the shadows behind a thick tree, close enough to the ceremony that I can hear Silas’ words over the stillness of the crowd.
“Ascension is upon us. The wicked march forth, armed with desperation. For years, we believed we had more time. More time to cherish the ones we love, to hold them, to guide them, to protect them from the tentacles of the wicked who hide on the outskirts.”
I peer up at the stars and try to steady my breathing. I think about how long it took me to work up the courage to run. To flee this place in the death of night. Out there, on the open road, I became someone else. Someone stronger, but being back in this place threatens to tear me back in time, back to the scared kid I used to be.
“We, the Sinless Children, have strived for perfection,” Silas continues. “All of us, at times, have faltered.We have been tested and we have failed. There is not one amongst us who has not been lured into the darkness. Not one of us who has not been tempted by the forbidden fruits. Not one of us who has not taken a bite at some point in our lives.”
Flames climb the curtains in Silas’ bedroom. Soon, the house and everything in it will be burned to the ground.
“Our God is merciful!” Silas screams and is met with cheers from about half the crowd. “It’s why he calls us home. We have proven our dedication to the tenants he has laid before us and we still fall, over and over again. We are the best we can be when the outside world has all the ammo in the world to destroy our souls.”
I peek around the tree, sweat trailing down my back. My breath is ragged and sharp, even as I try my best to steady myself. It does nothing to calm my racing heart. Does nothing to relieve the tension in my gut. My chest tightens, even as my breathing accelerates. I place my hand over my heart and apply pressure while I feel the waterworks coming.
I was a fool for thinking I could do this on my own, without Noah.
I glance in the general direction of the parking lot and pray he comes back for me. Pray he storms in and saves the day like he always does. Every moment that passes without him showing his face is another moment I drown inmy own self-doubt.
“Make no mistake,” Silas continues his sermon. “They are coming. They will take this place from us, and poison us with their wicked ways. They will contaminate the dirt we grow our crops on. They will stain the walls with the cries of the damned. They will, with them, bring the wrath of an endless swarm of demons. Tonight, God will come for us and save us from damnation.”
