This Side of Salvation

CHAPTER 38

NOW

The “residency director” Rusher finds single rooms for me and Mara one floor up from our parents. Mine has the same view as the wood shop, of the forest in front, mountains to the right, and the lake to the left. When we visit our parents’ room before dinner, I notice that my father’s stuff is everywhere, but my mother’s bag is still mostly packed.

Mara and I have nothing but the clothes we’re wearing. They took our phones when we arrived; our emergency supplies, I assume, are still in our boat, which is probably no longer our boat.

After dinner Sophia holds a worship service in the lodge’s great room for all the Rushers. There are no light shows or fog machines or rock-band choirs, but because it’s her, it feels overwhelming and in my face. I slip out the back and venture outside.

Last night on the lakeshore I couldn’t see much of the sky, what with the trees, but in the clearing around the lodge, the stars are huge. I feel like I could reach up and almost touch them, like the hanging snowflakes at Longwood Gardens.“Hey, David.”

I turn at the sound of a girl’s voice. “Eve.” I’d totally forgotten about checking in on her. Ezra would’ve been so pissed if I’d come back without word on her welfare. “How are you?”

“Cold.” She wraps her pale-blue sweater tight around her chest as she sits next to me on the stairs. “And bored. You?”

I’m not chilly, but I cross my arms to cover the “Bass Man” on my sweatshirt. “I’m okay. Except for the part where I’m held against my will.”

“Yeah, that sucks.” She tucks a strand of dark-brown hair behind her ear. “I’m so jealous of my brother. He actually had a choice.”

I check behind me for eavesdroppers, then shift closer to her. “We talked to Ezra before we left. He said if you came home, you could still live in the house with him. And Molly,” I add, figuring Eve must be attached to the dog too.

“Ugh, Molly. Old dogs are such a pain.” She picks up a fallen pinecone at her feet. “I miss her, though. I cried when we left, because I know she’ll probably die before we ever go home again. If we ever go home again.” Eve wipes her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. “Sorry. I just feel so alone. There’s hardly anyone my age here.” She gives me a hopeful look. “Except you now.”

“I’m not staying.”

Eve picks apart the pinecone for a few moments. “Wanna play Spin the Bottle?”

“What?” Caught off guard, I scrabble for a response. “With just two people?”

“I hate surprises. Especially after last weekend.”

“I bet. But I’ll take a pass on the game. I have a girlfriend.” “Right. Bailey. How long do you think she’ll wait for you?”

A fair question. Bailey and I discussed the matter before I left, knowing I might be trapped here forever, and promised to wait as long as we could before giving up on our reunion. I can’t believe it was only two nights ago we lay in my bed making this promise—and making up for time we lost to the Abandoning. Those stolen hours seem like weeks ago, and yet when I close my eyes, I can still taste her.

Eve scoots her butt up against mine on the stair. “Come on, just one round. I’ll let you spin.”

The doors behind us open, letting out a low wave of murmurs. Prayer service must be over.

Dad’s one of the first out of the exit. He beckons me to follow him back to our residence house, quickly.

I trot to keep up with him. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is I’m getting you out of here. Tonight.”

My father found out that come morning, Sophia’s people will take Sandy’s boat back down the lake to her, leaving us without an escape pod. All the other boats need keys, of course, to start their motors. So we’ll have to leave tonight, under the power of my rowing arms. After the last day’s exertion, I can barely raise my hand to comb my hair, but I’ll just have to suck it up. Anything to get Mom, Mara, and me out of here.Dad’s not coming, of course. The boat only fits three people, and the rest of us need him to create a diversion, a not-so-fake fire alarm.

At least, those are his excuses. I’m done arguing and pleading with him to come home. If Almost Heaven is where he thinks he belongs, fine. I can’t save him.

The two of us head back toward the lodge, where Sophia is holding court in the great room with a nightly Bible study for teens and adults.

We stop outside the back door. Farther down the porch, a handful of Rushers are lounging in a semi-circle of Adirondack chairs, chatting and drinking what looks like cocoa. I guess that means the Bible study is optional. It also means my father and I can’t look like we’re saying good-bye. No hugs—not that we would.

Dad hands me a pair of flashlights. “You know what to do?” “Yep.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” I test the flashlights to make sure they work. “You too.” “Yep.” He scratches the back of his head, examining the porch’soverhang. Nothing to see here. We’re just thinking about cleaning the gutters. “Thanks for this.”

“Sure.” I step up past him one stair and onto the porch, then turn, ready to try a longer, more weighty sentence. “Thanks for letting us go.” I hope he knows I mean that in both the large and small senses.

Dad looks up at me, his dark blue eyes unreadable now. For a moment I worry he’s about to change his mind.

Then he blinks and he asks, “Are you ready?”

I recognize Sophia’s password. “I wasn’t born ready.” I flip one of the flashlights end over end and catch it. “But I am now.”

One side of his mouth curves up in a smirk. “Remember, if you see a little bit of smoke, keep rowing.”

“What if I see a lot of smoke?”

Dad gives me a wink as he turns away. “Row faster.”“He said, ‘Go out, and stand on the mountain before Yahweh.’”

I’m sitting in the hallway outside the lodge’s great room, listening to Sophia read from First Kings, the bit about Elijah on Mount Sinai. The prophet had run away into the wilderness after Queen Jezebel threatened to chop off his head (long story). Elijah journeyed forty days with no food, and when he got to the same cave Moses had once hung out in, he was kind of hoping to see a good show from God. Like maybe The Ten Commandments, Part 2.

Sophia continues. “Behold, Yahweh passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before Yahweh; but Yahweh was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake; but Yahweh was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake a fire passed; but Yahweh was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a still, small voice.”

She lets out a contented sigh. “This is why we’ve come to the mountain, my friends—to hear that still, small voice and understand what the Lord needs from us.”

Sophia keeps talking, but I tune her out. I’m listening for Dad’s fire alarm, but also thinking of the rest of the passage, where God tells Elijah to get his butt back to work anointing kings and making prophecies. She’s conveniently ignoring that part. I guess because it doesn’t serve her purpose.

As much as I want to hate her—okay, as much as I do hate her—I don’t think she’s evil. She’s not cynically robbing people like those televangelists who offer empty promises in exchange for a credit card number. I think Sophia truly believes Almost Heaven is the answer to her followers’ problems.

That doesn’t give her a free pass. She’ll pay for jerking my family around, starting . . . right . . . about . . .

The fire alarm wails in the distance, rising and falling like an air-raid siren.

. . . now.

I shift over a few inches to glimpse what’s going on in the great room.

“Is that the alarm?” Sophia sets down her Bible and turns to her bodyguard Carter, who’s hurrying to her side. “Did we have a fire drill scheduled?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you to the safe zone, Ms. Visser.”

“But what about the others?”

“They all know the drill. I have one priority, and that’s your safety. Don’t make me carry you.” He raises his voice. “Everyone walk—do not run—to the firebreak. Just like we’ve practiced.”

I slip out the back, then run around the building in time to meet my mother and sister as they file out the front door.

“David, there you are!” Mom grips both my arms. “I’ll show you where to go. This is probably a drill, but just to be safe—”

“It’s not a drill.” I step close to her, drawing Mara in as well. “Dad started a small fire so we could get away.”

“Thank God.” Mara takes one of the flashlights. “Let’s go, Mom. This way, to the boat.”

Mom starts to follow her, with me at her side, then stops just as we round the corner of the lodge. “Your father’s coming with us, right?”

Dad wanted me to lie to her, tell her I’d come straight back for him once I got her and Mara to our minivan parked at Sandy’s store. But that would make me no better than Sophia. “Sorry, Mom. Not tonight.”

“You want me to leave him?” Her face crumples, and she staggers back, watching the far end of the village where the firebreak lies. A few of the Rushers look back at us as they hurry away.

Mara stomps back up the trail to join us. “Mom, I’m not leaving without you, and I don’t want to stay. Is this the life you want for me? Or do you want me to go to college and get a job, maybe see my boyfriend again one day, so he doesn’t spend the rest of his life thinking I hate him?” She points her flashlight at herself. “Shouldn’t I have a choice?”

Staring at Mara, Mom fidgets with her gold-cross necklace, twisting the chain around her index finger. “Of course you should, but—”

“Good. Let’s go.” Mara turns and runs down the hill.

Mom just gapes at her, unmoving. I lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but if you leave with us now, by this time tomorrow you could be enjoying a decent cup of coffee.”

My mother runs her hands over her face, giving a shaky laugh. “That’s low, David. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

We sprint down the trail, trying not to trip in the darkness. I help keep my mother upright while Mara runs far ahead to untie the boat.

Just as Mom and I reach the dock, I hear my sister groan with dismay. “The oars!”

I come up beside her and shine my flashlight into the boat. They’re gone. “Where would they be?”

“Hidden, so we can’t escape.” Mara’s voice is full of rage. “We were so close!”

“I’ll check the other boats.”

I make my way down the dock, checking under each boat’s tarp, praying that one of them will have a pair of oars.

Finally, I reach land again and start searching for any implement—a branch, a pipe—that I can use as a paddle. At this point, I’m ready to use my hands if it means our freedom.

Suddenly, a small engine sputters to life. Busted.

I look up the hill toward the village, expecting to see an all-terrain vehicle driven by whoever considers themselves the law around here. But the noise is coming from the water, not the land.

“David!” my sister calls above the buzz of the engine, which sounds no bigger than a chainsaw.

I run back down the dock to find them sitting in our rowboat. Mom is tying the strings on my sister’s life vest, since Mara needs one hand to tilt the outboard motor above the water.

Wait. I look at the motorboat across the dock, which is technically just a boat now, because the motor that was clamped onto its stern is—

“Mara, did you steal that engine?”

“Borrowed it.”

“With no keys?”

“I pulled the string inside. Now get in before I accidentally pull away and make you swim after us.”

“Okay, okay.” Turning to lower myself into the boat, I see smoke rising above the tree line beyond the village. I pause, despite what Dad said.

“Come on, David,” Mom says in a low, even voice. “Time to save ourselves.”

My brain tells my hand to let go of the dock’s post, tells my legs to step down so I can join my mother and sister. But my eyes won’t leave that smoke.

“Get in the boat,” Mom orders. “We have to leave now.”

Her words make me shudder. They’re the same words Dad used to make her leave us behind.

This isn’t over yet.

I turn to her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I love you.”

Then I meet my sister’s eyes, long enough for her to give me a nod of understanding and a quick thumbs-up. She lowers the motor’s whirring blades into the water.

As I walk, then run back up the dock, I hear Mom’s shrieks over the whine of the outboard engine. But soon they both fade away.