California: A Novel (33 page)

But Anika wasn’t standing in the corner. She’d left it. Something hooked into Frida’s gut, and she turned swiftly around. There was Anika, crowding the aisle with a group of others. The room had grown loud again, and Frida yelled Anika’s name. She didn’t care who heard.

Anika looked up, right at Frida. Her face was flushed with anger. Her eyes were hard and black, full of resentment and rage.

Anika turned away quickly. A forsaking. “I think Sheryl’s right,” she called out. She was standing again. “Micah had to have known.”

At that, Micah skipped onto the stage; Peter and the others had returned to the pews, except for Sailor, who stood by the door—with a gun, Frida saw with an intake of air. Cal had her arm now, and he leaned in to whisper, “I’ve got you.”

“I assure you, Anika,” Micah was saying loudly. “Had I known, there would have at least been a transparent discussion about the matter.”

“What’s there to discuss?” a woman called out; Frida could not bear to look to see who it was. “We believe in containment!”

A few people cawed like peacocks, and everyone started talking, and Frida closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see all of them holding up their fists in agreement, knocking the air.

“We’ll just go back to the Millers’ house,” she whispered to Cal. “Just like before.”

He shook his head, as if that wasn’t an option.

“We have to,” she said.

“This is why I told you to stop,” he replied. He was still touching her protectively, but his voice was cold as the dead. “You fucked it up.”

“You think they’ll feel differently next week? Or next month?”

“Micah and I were working on a plan,” he said.

Frida was considering how to answer him when Micah whistled to shut everyone up. “Things are spinning out of control,” he said.

August nodded. “Let’s calm down.”

“I don’t want my sister and her husband to be fearful,” Micah said. He held up a hand.

“You think we’ll hurt them?” a man called out from behind Frida.

“Yeah,” Anika cried, “that’s
your
specialty.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Anika,” Fatima said. “Micah’s done a lot for the Land. For you especially. Don’t pretend like he hasn’t.”

“And he’ll do the most for them.” Anika pointed at Frida and Cal.

“Those two can’t just come in here and expect us to change everything for them,” Sheryl said.

The volume of the room began to rise once more

“Get them out!” Lupe yelled.

Micah tried to hold up his hand again to calm everyone, but it didn’t work. Frida felt the ceiling and the walls of the Church wobble and contract, as if she and Cal were about to get crushed from all sides. They had to get out of there. Sailor had that gun, but he couldn’t protect them against these people, this mob.

“Cal,” she said.

He was already pulling her out of the pew. Charles had tried to step in their path, but Cal pushed him hard, and he backed away. August had another man by the arm, holding him back from who knew what.

Betty made a retching sound. She was about to spit on them.

Cal pulled Frida down the aisle and toward the door. No one else tried to stop them.

On their way out, she saw that Sailor had his rifle up, aimed at the rest of the Land’s residents. How long before he turned the gun on her?

“Keep going,” Micah said from behind them. “Run.”

T
hey rushed out of the Church, and Micah took the lead, running in front of them as if Cal and Frida were chasing him. They ran down that dusty path the rain had turned to clay, across the open soggy field, past the garden, and into the woods.

Cal was trying to remain placid even as his chest burned, even as he wanted to stop and catch his breath. He knew Frida had good intentions, she only wanted to be honest, but it was hard not to just let go of her hand. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut to save her life—to save the life of their child. He’d thought they were in this together. But no. God, she could be such a selfish brat.

Cal could tell Micah was nervous. It was his speed and silence that gave him away, his refusal to turn around to see if they were still behind him. It was as if he didn’t care that they might get lost trying to keep up with him. For Micah, it wasn’t about his sister, or the baby. Screw all that. Micah had to worry about his plan. It wouldn’t work if there was a revolt.

His plan. Talk about a euphemism. In the last few days, Micah had shown Cal the materials he was hoarding to make the bomb, hidden in the Church’s secret library. “Weapons and books,” Micah had said, grinning, “the perfect combination.” Once he got everything together, he said, August would do a test.

“We need to make sure they work,” he said. “Toni is adamant about that, as she should be.”

Cal had just listened and asked questions, considering everything from every possible angle. He would have to come up with a feasible alternative soon and convince Micah that his idea was shortsighted and should at least be delayed. In the meantime, he’d just let the man talk.

Now, in the dark, Micah stopped suddenly, and they almost ran into him. Cal had managed to hold on to Frida’s hand, though he couldn’t bear to look at her.

Micah pointed to the trunk, and Cal realized they were at the tree house. “You’ll wait there until dawn,” he said.

“And then what?” Frida said.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before,” Micah said.

“I thought some people would be happy about the baby after what happened here.”

Cal could feel her looking at him, and he turned. Even in the dark he thought he could see the line between her eyebrows deepen. She wanted him to respond.

“Up,” Micah said then, saving him.

It was cold and wet in the tree house, but there were blankets up there; they’d survive. Micah had lit a large candle, though he would extinguish it when he left. “You’re hiding, remember.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Cal asked.

Micah put a hand above the candle’s flame, as if seeking its warmth. “You’re better off not knowing.”

Cal leaned against the tree trunk, silent. He just wanted to close his eyes.

Suddenly, Frida’s hand was on his arm. “I’m afraid for our child’s life,” she said. “Aren’t you?” she asked.

Cal was going to say,
Yes, more than anything, yes.
He wanted to say,
That’s why you should have kept quiet.
Instead he said, “It’s okay, Frida, it’s going to be okay.”

But she was looking at her brother.

“You sent all those kids away,” she said.

“I did,” Micah replied, and he was so calm about it, Cal could sock him.

“It’s not something to be so blasé about,” Cal said, a panic rising in him. Micah had said he’d keep Frida safe, but did that mean he’d protect the child, too? “What about our baby?” he asked.

“What about it?”

“Would you have taken my child away from me?” Frida asked.

“There is no
taking,
” Micah said. “I never took anything from anyone.” He gestured to the trees around them, some still dripping with water from all the rain. “You really think you’re special? That just because you’re family, you mean more to me than anyone else?” He sighed.

“Is that what the Group taught you?” Frida said.

Micah grunted. “Hardly. The Group taught me that some things are worth sacrificing everything for.” He paused. “And then they taught me not to trust anyone.”

Frida put her hand on her belly, as if to shield it from a blow. “Was it really necessary to break up the families?” she asked. “Or did Pines make you an offer for those kids that you couldn’t refuse?”

“This isn’t about my powers of refusal.”

“Anika loved Ogden.”

“Ogden?” Cal said, and then shut up. Of course—Anika had been a mother.

“Ogden was still an infant when he went to Pines,” Micah said, “and he was sick a lot. He was underweight. He couldn’t hold his head up.” He rubbed an index finger along the wood planks between them, as if to erase a smudge. “I was doing them a favor. I saved his life.”

Frida didn’t answer, and Micah said, “You have no response because you know it’s true.”

“What about Jane?” she asked. “Did you think she’d die out in the wilderness?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure,” Micah said. “No one was here against their will, not even Anika, no matter what she tells you.” He paused. “The Millers had more skills than anyone else on the Land, which was partly why they were eager to live on their own. They were very independent. I admired them, actually.”

“Why didn’t Peter and Anika go with them?” Frida asked.

“Peter and Anika?” Cal asked. “Why would Peter go anywhere with Anika—”

“Catch up, Cal, will you?” Micah said.

“Answer my question,” Frida said.

Micah smiled. “I didn’t encourage it. I told them leaving the Land, even together, was asking for trouble. Just look at how they fared before I’d arrived. And, anyway, Peter was happy Ogden could go to Pines—he’d be safe there. And he wasn’t with Anika by then anyway. The point is he wanted to stay on the Land, and I was grateful. I offered to help the Millers get settled, to send a team to build their house, and to make sure August came regularly.”

“In exchange for what?” Cal asked.

“That they stay away from us, live far enough away that we would never see them again.” He turned to Frida. “Anika didn’t tell you about this little negotiation?”

Frida shook her head.

“Not that the Millers ever expressly invited Anika to join them. Sandy always thought she was a bit uptight.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Frida said.

“I’m being honest,” Micah said. “The truth is, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of Anika. Her relationship with Peter gives her a modicum of power. It’s over between them, of course, has been for a while, even before we arrived. But those two have history. Peter looks out for her.” He grimaced. “She has to be tended to.”

“Peter wants me to have my baby here,” Frida said. “He’s excited, I can tell.”

For the first time since they’d ascended the tree house, Micah looked rattled. He stood and grabbed the railing, as if to anchor himself from a strong wind.

“Peter’s just being friendly,” he said.

“You sure about that?” Cal asked.

Micah nodded. He was already backing away; he was already trying to leave them here.

“Micah,” Frida said.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked, his voice icy.

“Why didn’t you let Ogden keep the Bee?”

Cal looked at his wife. What the hell was she talking about? “What’s the Bee?” he asked.

Micah wouldn’t even look at Cal. His eyes were on his older sister.

“I thought there might come a time that I’d need it again.”

“For what?” Frida whispered.

“Imagine what would happen if we had another baby here. There’s protocol: we believe in containment, and children aren’t allowed.”

“What’s the Bee?” Cal asked again, but neither of them was listening to him.

“Think about it, Frida,” Micah said. “I’d have to keep the little thing happy on the bus, wouldn’t I?” He paused. “The ride to Pines is long for an infant.”

Frida stepped back. “You would never take—”

“Not yours, I wouldn’t.”

Micah knelt down and blew out the candle, leaving them in darkness. “I’ve got to go,” he said, and in seconds he was gone.

F
rida woke to the tree shaking. Someone was climbing the trunk.

She grabbed for Cal, who was curled against her like a cat. Even in his tight embrace, she was cold.

“Cal,” she whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

Frida could only make out the edges of the platform and the shape of Cal’s body against hers.

She was sitting up when Anika hefted herself onto the platform, a small flashlight between her front teeth like a dog carries its bone. When she saw Frida, she took the light out of her mouth and shined it into Frida’s eyes.

“Anika,” Frida said, pushing herself to sitting.

Anika didn’t speak. A shapeless Batik purse was slung across her body, bisecting her chest with its strap.

In one deft move Anika had replaced the flashlight with something else. The moonlight wasn’t much, but Frida recognized the size and shape of Cal’s gun. Frida had held it in her own hands in the dark many times.

Why had Micah left them unarmed?

“Hey,” Cal said, and untangled himself from Frida. When he saw Anika he said, “Be careful with that.”

“What’s happening?” Frida said.

“You don’t recognize your own gun?” Anika said to her. “Or let me guess, it’s your husband’s.” She cradled the weapon in two hands now, as if it were fragile. At least she wasn’t reckless enough to point it at them.

“Where’d you find that?” he asked.

“Hidden in your room.”

“You went into our room?” Frida said. “Micah said Dave would be guarding the door.”

Anika laughed. “He’s supposed to be, but Rachel helped us out with that problem. When he thinks with his dick, he’s an easy target, poor thing.”

“Rachel?” Cal asked.

Anika nodded and smiled at him, a dark space where her tooth should have been. “Don’t be shocked,” she said. “Rachel is quite alluring to the younger set.”

Cal stood up, and Anika took a step back.

“Stay where you are,” she said. With one hand she reached into her purse. “I found the gun under your bed. It was hidden with your book.”

“What book?” Frida said.

Anika held up a hardcover book, its spine duct-taped. Frida hadn’t seen one of those in years.

“What is that?” Frida asked. “Whose is it?”

“My question exactly,” Anika said. “Now at least I know you didn’t arrive with it.”

Cal shook his head. “Micah has a few books. He doesn’t share them with the rest of you, and I agree it’s wrong. I told him.”

Anika tossed the book at him. He held up his hands to block his face, and Frida couldn’t help but think he looked like a pussy.

The book fell to the floor, its covers splayed like a bird’s wings.

“I don’t give a shit about the book,” Anika said. “But I know others might. It’s just like Micah to hoard it.”

“My brother shouldn’t have kept it from all of you,” Frida said.

Anika groaned. “Oh, please, Frida. Like you’re some expert on ethics.”

“I wanted to tell you about the baby, I swear I was going to.”

Anika had the gun in one hand now, and it looked like she was going to cock it.

“Let’s put the gun down,” Cal said. He kept his voice low and gentle, his body still. It wasn’t working.

“I told you about Ogden,” Anika said, “about losing him. And all this time you were pregnant, expecting to have your own baby. Things must always work out for you, Frida. You’re always the exception to the rule.”

“That isn’t true,” Frida said.

“You betrayed me.”

“Put the gun down,” Cal said. “We can talk this through.”

Frida wanted Cal to just tackle Anika; he could do it easily.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” Frida said. Would Anika really fire the gun? “But think about it,” Frida said. “You could help me, help us.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?” Anika asked. “Why do you get to have whatever you want? Because he’s your brother?” She laughed. “You know what he did, right? He came back to the Church tonight, said he’d taken care of things.”

Frida nodded. For a long time, she’d lain in this tree house thinking of Micah and his threats. He claimed he wouldn’t send their child away, but was that enough? He’d let this place come between her and Cal. He’d willed it, even. Her brother was cruel, sometimes in such small ways it was barely recognizable. He loved like that, too.

“He told us we could go back to normal,” Anika said. “People think you guys are either dead or that Mikey sent you into the Forms without even water. But I didn’t believe it.”

“Anika, put down the gun.” Cal stepped forward. “Frida and I can leave the Land tomorrow morning if that’s what you want.”

Anika turned to him. “Okay, go. But don’t expect us to help you like we did the Millers. We were protecting them. We cared about them.”

“Why didn’t you take Ogden somewhere on your own?” Frida asked. “What kept you here?”

“Frida,” Cal said. “Stop.”

Anika didn’t speak for a moment, just kept cradling the gun. She looked up. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise a child out here? Before Micah and the others arrived, we were barely living. It took everything I had to nurse Ogden. And after that he still had to be kept warm, and entertained, and I had to sing to him when he couldn’t sleep, and I had to make sure the water I drank wouldn’t kill me, or that a Pirate wouldn’t kill me. The list went on and on. All I had to offer my son was fear and exhaustion. Ogden didn’t deserve that.” She paused. “Sandy was born to be a mother, and she was brave. If Micah was going to protect only one family out there, it had to be the Millers. They’d live as we had always wanted to. Purely.”

Anika seemed to fall into thought, and Cal said, softly, “You don’t have to tell us anything more.” Frida wanted to smack him; he thought he was appeasing Anika, but Frida could tell that the woman wanted to unburden herself.

“You know,” Anika said, “Peter went to see the Millers not too long before they died. I’d asked him to do it. Go check on our friends, I said. Please. I missed Ogden, and I suppose missing him made we wonder about Janie. I wanted to make sure she was okay. August said she was, but I never trusted him. And I guess I can’t trust Peter now, either, because neither of them told me about Garrett. Their little happy family.”

She laughed.

“What’s funny?” Cal asked.

“You two are scared I’m going to shoot you when you could very well be poisoned in your beds. Give it three, four years.”

“The Millers poisoned themselves,” Cal said.

“Are you sure? Peter told me tonight that Micah went to see them before they died. Before that, Micah had never gone to visit the Millers—he preferred to act as if they didn’t exist.”

“I don’t believe that,” Frida said, though she did. Somehow, she knew Anika was telling the truth, but still she wanted to strangle her for speaking it aloud. There was only so much Frida could bear.

Anika cocked the gun. “Maybe I’m wrong. What do I know?” She looked at Cal. “How do I know you didn’t kill the Millers?”

“I’m not a murderer,” Cal said.

Anika raised an eyebrow. “How can I be sure?”

It was like Cal had been sucked into the air by some unnameable force, and Frida watched as his body swept the space between him and Anika. He grabbed the gun from her hands and slammed its handle against her face. Anika didn’t make a noise as she fell to the floor.

“Cal!” Frida cried out.

He was already pulling off Anika’s purse, yanking it so that the strap ripped free. “Take her flashlight, and wait for me at the bottom of the tree.”

She dropped the book and took the bag. She was crying as she picked up the flashlight.