Authors: Stacy Claflin
"Are you okay?" asked someone. Macy thought it might be Luke.
She tried to draw more deep breaths, but she couldn't get down far enough.
A hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see Rebekah. "Do you need air?"
Macy nodded.
"I'll go out with her," Luke said.
Alarm crossed over Rebekah's face. She pointed toward a girl and said something Macy couldn't understand.
Soon, she was standing outside with Luke and one of the girls he had introduced her to before.
Luke put his hand on Macy's shoulder and guided her to the side of the building. "Lean against the wall and put your head between your legs."
Macy looked at him like he was crazy.
"It'll help. Trust me."
Macy needed a sign. If she felt better after putting her head between her legs, then she would know she could tell Luke everything. Otherwise, if she didn't feel better, then it was a sign that he wasn't safe to talk to. She needed to stop being afraid of talking to him. He had done nothing other than be her friend for the last several weeks.
Macy positioned herself against the schoolhouse and bent over. She felt as ridiculous as could be, but hoped for an obvious sign
"Stand up now. Slowly," Luke said.
Macy rose as slow as possible and looked around. The white dots were gone and her breathing came naturally. She had her answer. She would tell Luke everything as soon as possible.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Much better, actually."
"Do you want to stay out a bit longer?"
Macy nodded. She wanted to tell Luke about her being kidnapped right then, but didn't know anything about the girl. She looked her over at her. She had light brown hair and bright blue eyes. She looked nice enough, but then again so had Chester. Macy didn't know anything about the girl.
She gave Macy a look of concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I don't know what overcame me in there."
"I wouldn't worry about it. Everyone freaks out sometimes. It happens."
"What's your story?" Macy asked her.
"Like you, I was raised in the world. But then…well, life didn't exactly go the way I planned." She shrugged, looking away.
Luke looked at her. "Dorcas had a rough time transitioning to the lifestyle too."
"Dorcas? That must be rough." Where Macy was from, kids would have called her dork-us.
Dorcas smiled. "It's my Bible name."
"What's your real name?"
Dorcas and Luke exchanged a look. Luke turned to Macy. "We're not supposed to talk about our worldly names once we've received our new names."
"Of course. Sorry."
"What's your story?" Dorcas asked.
"Don't you know? Jonah found…my dad, and now here we are."
Dorcas looked around and stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Luke and I are trying to get out of here."
Macy's eyes widened. "What? Why are you telling me? I…I mean, I'm the daughter of Jonah's next prophet."
Luke stepped closer too. "There are a few of us who are working on it. I could tell by the look in your eyes at your unveiling that you didn't want to be here. I've been around long enough that it's easy to see who buys this stuff and who doesn't. After talking with you over the last few weeks, I know you want to leave also."
"But, you guys both have your new names. Doesn't that mean you've made your way through the ranks or something?" She turned to Luke. "The way you've been talking, it sounded like you believe everything they teach here."
"You're the daughter of Jonah's favorite. I had to feel you out even though I thought you wanted out too."
Dorcas nodded. "In case we can't find another way out, we're working our way up so that someday we'll be allowed to leave. You know, to look for new members. Only we won't come back."
Macy stared at them. Were they for real? "Wouldn't that take years?"
"More than likely," Dorcas said. "But at least it's better than nothing. I'd rather get out of here in ten years than never."
"I do want out too."
Luke and Dorcas exchanged a look.
"But I don't want to wait ten years," Macy said.
"Do you have a plan to get out sooner?" Luke asked.
"Well, no. But I want to come up with something. I need to get back to my family."
Dorcas tilted her head. "Chester isn't your family?"
"I…uh…well, it's complicated."
Luke stepped even closer. "Are you another kidnapped one?"
Macy's eyebrows came together. "How did you know? And what do you mean by another?"
"Are you really surprised that there are others like you?"
Macy shrugged.
"Trust me. You're far from the only one."
"Really?" Macy's stomach twisted in knots.
Dorcas nodded.
"Well, that gives us even more reason to break out of here. If there are others like me, we have to get them to their homes—their real homes."
Luke held up a hand. "Don't get anxious. One wrong move and we'll lose all chances of hope. We have to be meticulous and take everything at a snail's pace. It's fine to look for something else, but the best thing you can do is to try to move up the ranks, which means following the rules to a tee. Learn them, but don't internalize them."
"Isn't there a way to get out of the fence?" Macy asked.
"Have you looked at it?" Dorcas asked.
"What I mean," Macy said, "is that there has to be a weak spot. A loose board or something."
Dorcas shook her head. "There are people whose only job is to take care of the fence. They would spot something like that long before we did. And besides, it would be most suspicious if we were examining the fence."
"But it has to be worth a try. We could come up with a good reason for looking at the fence."
Luke gave me a sad look. "Shortly after my mom and I joined, someone did try to get out. A kid who was probably about our age."
"What happened?" Macy asked. She held her breath.
"I never saw him again."
Macy looked back and forth between them. "What does that mean?"
"He disappeared. No one ever mentioned him, either."
"You mean…you think he died?" Macy whispered.
"Do you have a better explanation?"
Macy felt sick. They were as bad as Chester. Maybe worse.
Dorcas looked at her. "We have to think long-term, and you actually have the best chance of getting out with your dad working so closely with Jonah, Abraham and Isaac. Your dad could take you with him sometime."
"But then, what? I couldn't just run and save myself. The rest of you, I would have to get you out too."
Dorcas shook her head. "For one thing—"
The door opened and Rebekah came out, looking at Macy. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now. The fresh air must have been what I needed."
"Good. Now come back inside. We have plenty more to do before we take our lunch break. We don't want to find too few pages done when Eve checks the work, now do we?"
"No, Teacher," Dorcas and Luke said in unison.
They went inside, but Macy couldn't focus. Luke and Dorcas actually wanted out, and not only that, but other kids in the same room as her had also been kidnapped.
The community was the perfect place for a criminal to go. Had the whole thing been masterminded by one? Was Jonah a mass murderer? Or was he just power hungry, and it was only a coincidence that the community was the perfect getaway for someone who needed to hide?
Luke nudged her with his elbow. "At least
pretend
to do your work." He winked at her.
"Right." Macy picked up her pencil and looked at the book. She wrote a few sentences and then looked around the room. Who else in there was heartbroken because they'd been stolen from their families?
Macy felt something on her foot. She looked down and saw Luke's foot on top of hers. He moved it over so that it was next to hers with their ankles touching because the fabric of their pants had risen.
She looked over at him, eyes wide. There was no way that was allowed.
"What?" he whispered, his voice dripping with innocence. As if he didn't know.
Macy elbowed him, but hoped he wouldn't move his foot. He didn't.
She looked around the room and made eye contact with Rebekah. Rebekah nodded down, indicating for Macy to get to work.
Would Macy really have to pretend to work her way up the ranks in order to get out? Luke and Dorcas had probably been around long enough to know that there wasn't another way out.
Something bumped her knee and she looked over at Luke. He gave her a knowing look and she got back to work. She would have to wait until later to process everything.
Macy was lucky enough to have three people on her side. Now all she needed was a plan. But Luke would have to move his foot before she could concentrate enough to think of anything.
Undoing
Chad got out of bed, careful not to wake Alyssa. She'd been awake half the night crying. So had he, actually. He hoped to God that the body didn't belong to Macy. If he thought about it, he knew that he would immediately start processing the emotions of it all, and he couldn't go there. Not unless he knew for sure.
Until he had proof of anything else, he was operating under the assumption that his daughter was safe somewhere. Where? Only she knew that, but he had to hold onto the hope. He wasn't giving up yet.
Since he couldn't sleep, he needed to get on his blog to publish the letters to Macy. In just the previous afternoon, the idea had exploded. Nearly everyone wanted to write their letter. He was going to end up with an entire series of posts rather than just one. Alyssa's parents wanted to write one, as did other relatives and some friends from school that Zoey had contacted.
Chad went to his office and sat down. He saw yesterday's coffee still sitting there. He looked at it, tempted. It was probably less than twelve hours old. He picked it up and drank. It tasted just as good as it had the day before, only cold. The caffeine gave him a jolt of energy and that was all he needed, anyway.
Taking another sip, he turned his laptop on. He opened the browser and it went to his profile, the last page he had opened. Chad almost typed in the address for his blog when he noticed an unusually high number of notifications. Fifty-six? He didn't even get that many when he took a weekend off.
His stomach twisted. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Had people been tagging him with more theories about the body? If that was the case, he would be unfriending and blocking each one of them, no matter who they were.
He scanned through the list of notifications, trying to make sense of them. There appeared to be some handwritten notes everyone was commenting on. He narrowed his eyes and nearly threw up all over his keyboard when he realized he was looking at Macy's handwriting.
Did someone find a note she left somewhere? Chad clicked on one of the images of the notes and noticed the date. It was nearly a year old.
He read it, feeling even worse. Had her friends actually said those things to her? Why hadn't she told him? He would have gone to the school and had it out with that wimp of a principal. Then he would have found the parents of those girls and given them a piece of his mind. No one talked about his daughter that way. No one.
He read through the comments left on the pictures of the notes, trying to catch up. Hundreds of people had left comments. Who had posted the pictures, anyway? He looked up and saw Alex's profile photo. He looked at the time of the post and read what Alex wrote.
Chad shook his head as he read through the rest of the comments. People were saying horrible things about the girls Macy had written about. People were arguing. Some were even using all-caps and swear words Chad had never heard before.
He clicked Alex's profile and saw several more pictures. Scrolling down, he saw there were even more. What had Alex done? Each one had over hundreds of comments each.
His head spun at the thought of trying to catch up. As he stared at the screen, new comments showed up faster than he could hope to keep up with.
What had Alex been thinking?
Posting those diary entries hadn't been the wisest of moves. Especially tagging the girls mentioned in them. The backlash could get ugly. From the looks of the comments, it already had.
Chad leaned back in his chair, scanning over the comments. Damage control. He had to think fast.
His head was spinning, so he got up and went to Alex's room. He opened the door to find Alex wrapped around his blankets. One bare leg was sticking out and Alex's head was hanging off the side of the bed. He was snoring.
Heart softening, Chad went over and moved Alex over to his pillow, fixing his blankets. How long had he been awake, reading Macy's diaries? How much time had he spent stewing over them?