Authors: Elizabeth Forkey
5 ‘2”.
Brown Curly Hair.
Answers to Troublemaker.
When the third
and last gate comes into view, I see a lot of commotion. There are more guards
than normal standing around. Harmony and I exchange curious glances as to what
the new trouble could be. When the guards spot us, two of them come running to
meet us. I only recognize one of them—the younger guy, Terry, just recently
graduated out of our age group and joined the security team. Terry and I
haven't talked since he graduated but he's a good guy and a friend.
I don't recognize the older guard at all,
though he seems somehow familiar. The look on their faces makes anxiety flare up
like fire in my chest. Something is very wrong.
"What
happened?" says the man whose name I don't know. I can't fathom why, but
it seems like he's really mad—at me.
"Huh?"
I answer with confusion. "What happened here?" I ask in return with a
scowl to match his.
"Where have
you been?" No-Name demands.
"What do
you mean?" I ask somewhat dumbly. "We were just out walking?" I
say it like it's a question instead of an answer.
Harmony is
looking terrified and embarrassed next to me and I'm really hoping she'll pull
it together and be a united force with me here.
"What is going on?" I demand.
No-Name stares
me down and spits his words at me, "You're telling me nothing happened?
You just took your good old time getting here with no thought to the fact that
we've all been radioing around all afternoon watching for you?"
Oh. This is
about me——Again. Crap! We took a long time between gates. I guess we were
looking around for almost an hour. I didn't realize they were this preoccupied
with my schedule. I didn't give anyone a specific time that I'd be back and I
had no idea anyone was "watching out for us" that seriously.
"Um, I'm
sorry?" I say with an irritated lift in my voice.
Which
probably sounds disrespectful and isn't going to help my situation.
"I didn't mean to be a pain. It wasn't my idea to get everyone all upset
and watching for us. We haven't ever needed permission to walk around our own
community in broad daylight before, you know?"
I'm getting
louder and more assertive. Aunty always asks me when I'll learn that humility
is always
best?
Probably not before
the fast-approaching end of time.
"We aren't
here to babysit troublemakers," says No-Name with pompous disgust.
I lose what cool
I was holding on to and sputter incredulously, "Troublemakers! We were
doing a community service! There is a hole out there, a way in through the
fence, that
YOU missed!"
"You found
a breach?" Terry, joining the conversation, asks skeptically.
"Well, no,
I haven't found it yet—
But
it
is
there! You know Matt—
The
zombie?—left
days ago with Thomas and he didn't go out any of our gates. How do you explain
that!
Why isn't everyone upset about
this? Doesn't anyone else see the obvious here?"
"Go
home," No-Name commands with teeth clenched in quiet frustration.
"We aren't
done yet!" I argue. "We still have to finish the loop back to the
West Gate.
I told Anthony we'd finish
there."
"You are
done and Terry is escorting you each home. If you give me anymore problems or
take anymore of my men's time with your games, I'll speak with the Elders about
it. We are here to keep all the families in this community safe and it's a
tough and time-consuming job. We don't have time to keep daredevils from
getting themselves snatched by an outsider. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes
sir," says Harmony.
Her first words
in the whole dispute and they do nothing but undermine me. I flush red with
anger and stare the guards down—defiantly.
"Come on,
Ivy," Terry says, turning away to lead us towards home. He sounds tired
and older than the nineteen-year-old that I know him to be. Only 3 years older
than me. He was playing basketball and watching Disney movies with us last
summer. His new job seems to have aged him 10 years.
As we walk, I
start to cool down and I feel a little guilty. I know they were just trying to
keep us safe. I really was just trying to help and I didn't mean to get
everyone all freaked out. The stress induced age lines on Terry's face give
testament to the fact that the guards carry a heavy load watching over all of
us.
I wish I had
handled that better. I cringe when I realize Aunty is going to hear about this,
one way or another, and I can only imagine the lecture I have coming.
Harmony and I
walk quietly behind Terry without talking. He glances behind at us to see that
we're keeping up and periodically responds to the static-filled conversation
over his radio. I'm not mad at Harmony for not being more help. Really, she
handled it all the right way. Respectful, humble, obedient—all the things I
know I should be but just haven't been lately. It's in there somewhere though.
I need to dig it out again. Terry suddenly takes a right turn two blocks before
the Inn.
"Where are
we going?" I ask.
"We are
taking Harmony home first," he says as though it was obvious.
"Oh. I
figured you'd be taking us both to the Inn."
"No,
Harmony is going home. You are going to the U.R."
My shoulders
sag. I'm glad Terry continues to lead the way a few steps ahead of us as I wipe
the tears of embarrassment and unfairness from my leaky eyes. I furrow my brows
and let my heart run wild with frustrated prayers to the One who let all this
happen to me.
Thanks a lot God. Are you even paying attention? Have you noticed
all the crap that's been happening to me?
Now this?
What did I do wrong? Why are you punishing me?
I figured people
were going to treat me differently since the attack. I shouldn't be surprised.
Life really sucks lately.
I hug Harmony at
her front door.
Might as well finish the day with a hug.
She returns my embrace with her skinny, wispy arms and retreats behind her
faded blue door. I hope I didn't get her in trouble too. I'd die if they didn't
let us hang out together. She's the only person who helped me feel like myself
this week.
I walk the last
two blocks behind Terry without my accomplice. The town feels gray and
unfriendly again. But, instead of picturing enemies behind the glare of the
windows, I imagine the faces of the people I call family. I imagine them
watching me. Whispering to each other about the problem I've become.
Judging me.
Staring as I'm lead towards whatever punishment
they think I deserve. I slump my shoulders and burry my face in the collar of
my coat, despising the shame.
When we arrive
at the U.R., Terry escorts me to Rev.
Depold's
office; and, after seeing me through the door, leaves me there without a word.
We were friends.
So much for that.
I sit anxiously on
the edge of one of the leather chairs that face Rev.
Depold's
desk. The ornate cherry wood desk fills the small room and has the effect of
making the owner of the desk seem powerful and important.
The walls of the
office are papered haphazardly with faces.
Faces of children
in Africa and faces of happy worshipers in Asia.
Faces
of people praying and singing and lifting their hands collectively in praise.
Faces from every nationality and every race.
The
posters are full of the vibrant colors of the different costumes of each
exultant convert. Rev.
Depold
has surrounded himself
with a cloud of witnesses. Barely any paint shows through the sea of smiling
emotional believers. It's overwhelming in the small space and I feel like they
are all staring at me.
All of them wondering why I can't be
more like them, joyful and content with their Maker.
I look down at my
feet and wait for the Reverend.
I chew all of my
nails down to nothing and move on to picking at the dry skin of my cuticles.
Finally, Rev.
Depold
struts
his large self in and sits down at his desk, the quilted wing-backed desk chair
sighing under his weight. He's smiling, but he's always smiling so I don't
allow myself any hope.
"Hello
Ivy."
"Hi."
"
Soooooo
, I think we need a better strategy."
"Sir?"
"How are
you doing Ivy?"
"Sir?"
"How's your
heart?"
"Oh. Well,
I have been a little scared since, uh, everything. And I was sad when Thomas
left. I feel better today. Well, I felt better until we got yelled at. I really
didn't do anything wrong! We were only walking. Is there a new rule about not
walking in our own community?"
"No, Ivy,
no new rules. We are free here. We do want to be wise though, and we don't know
yet what's going on with that picture you found. I would hate for us to not
take it seriously enough and have something happen that could've been avoided
with a little wisdom. I'd like you to stay at home until we figure some things
out. In fact, I am specifically asking that you not leave the Inn, except to
come to the Sunday morning meetings. Ok?"
"Please
Reverend!" I can't handle this level of punishment. "What about my
job?
My friends?"
I'm pleading, but I manage to
keep my tone respectful and sweet this time—even if it's fraudulent.
"I'll
arrange for someone to deliver the teachers' papers and work assignments to you
at the Inn. Someone can set up a computer for you there. And your friends may
visit you any time you'd like."
The Reverend's face
is pleasant but resolute. There is no point in arguing. I wish I could kill
myself and be done with this awful life. I can't stand the thought of being on
house arrest. I didn't do anything to deserve this. The Reverend can tell by
the quivering scrunched look on my face that I'm trying not to lose it.
He tries to
soothe me, "We just want to keep you safe, Ivy. We've never had a security
problem like this before and we are all trying to figure out what to do. We
don't fight our neighbors and we don't believe in defending ourselves by force.
The fence and our wits and godly wisdom are
all the
defense we've ever needed. There may be a time coming soon that we'll need a
new plan. I hate to consider it, but we may need to move the community
somewhere safer." His pleasant smile slips away as he stares over my head
at something farther away than the jubilant walls of his office, "This
might be nothing—but it might be the start of the end of our freedom in
Toccoa
."
Angry as I am, a
chill of
goosebumps
runs up my arms from his ghostly
wonderings.
Then he brightens and finishes with the normal
Pastor preachy pep-talk, "Whatever the case, the Lord will guide us."
He says this with complete conviction and faith.
I want to feel
the same way. I know I have felt that way in the past. Why can't I pull it out
of me now?
Rev.
Depold
stands up from behind his desk and comes to sit by
me in the other leather chair on my side of the desk. He puts his hand on my
shoulder and squeezes it kindly. "He has a perfect plan for us and for the
salvation of as many as will receive him. May I pray for you Ivy?"
"Yes
sir." I say begrudgingly. I'd rather he didn't, but I would never dream of
saying that out loud.
"Father,
thank You for Your goodness to us, your sheep.
Thank you for
bringing Colleen and Ivy home safely to us. Give us wisdom in this new dilemma.
I know, Lord, that
You
know the answer. Your plans for
us are only good, plans to give us hope and a future. Watch over Ivy and
protect her, please Father. Send your Spirit to encourage her and draw her ever
nearer to
You
. Help her to find purpose in
You
. Thank You Father, Amen."