But I remembered that they had turned me out. That they had not defied the Elders for me. That they had stood behind the gate and watched as Alex, Ginger, and I walked into the dangerous unknown. I knew that they loved me, but love only went so far in the light of faith.
I wanted them to love me more than God.
It was a selfish desire. Evil. But I still wanted that, more than anything. God felt so remote, after all I’d seen. I was
here
, standing in the kitchen before them. Alive and wanting them to accept me and forgive me for all the hard choices I’d made.
My father stepped away. He turned his back to me. I thought I saw a tremor in his shoulder.
“Father . . .” I began.
But he didn’t answer me. He simply disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.
I rose to my feet, Sarah’s doll slipping from my lap. My eyes blurred with tears. My mother came to me. I felt her arms around me, felt her sobbing.
“Mother.”
She kissed my cheek. I clung to her arms, but she too pulled away and disappeared into the darkness at the heart of the house.
I stood in the pool of light in the kitchen, sobbing. I reached down for Sarah’s doll, hugged it. The muslin felt wet under my cheek. I sat it upright in the chair I’d occupied, scrubbed my sleeve across my eyes.
The dogs looked up at me, their brown eyes uncomprehending. I knelt to throw my arms around them. They didn’t pull away. They didn’t understand the
Bann
or human
Ordnung
. I kissed Sunny’s forehead and rubbed Copper’s ears. Sunny whined, her tail slapping against the back of my legs.
Hiccupping, I straightened and reached for the door handle. I knew that Alex would hold me, that he would offer me some comfort. But it wouldn’t be the same.
And Alex wasn’t alone with the soldiers. There were black shadows there, circling them like birds. Shadows I recognized.
The Elders.
I paused on the threshold, half in the house and half out. The Bishop’s gaze fell heavy upon me. He could be kindly. I knew this, saw it in the crinkling around his eyes. But it had been a long time since he had showed me any kindness.
I could hear uncertain muttering among the Elders.
The Bishop’s gaze flicked from me to shining Alex and then to the dim soldiers. “These two are under the
Bann
. They have been shunned by us.”
The soldier shook his head, his hand resting on the holstered pistol at his waist. “Sir, with all due respect, we’re not concerned with your religious practices.”
“They are not to be here. They have been exiled from the community.”
Alex started forward. I rushed down the steps and caught his sleeve.
The soldier glanced at us. “Did they commit a crime?”
“They violated the rules of the
Ordnung
. They defied our authority. The girl brought an Outsider in, and they burned a house . . .”
“Which seems to be happening pretty damn frequently,” Alex spat.
The Bishop glared at him and appealed to the soldiers again. “They are subversive elements. They are not welcome here.”
I could feel the coldness emanating from the holy man. “Hey—” Alex started. But I knew he could not fight the Bishop with logic. I wound my fingers in his sleeve.
“Don’t,” I said. I lifted my chin. “We’ll leave.”
The other soldier rattled his rifle. “That’s not going to happen. We’ve got orders to keep them under guard.”
“They are not welcome,” the Bishop said. Murmurs of assent echoed behind him. “They must leave.”
Alex hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the soldiers. “So, these guys are guests, and we get the boot. Nice. Is it that they bring bullets and some pretty damn good protection? Or that you can’t say no to a bunch of armed guys with tanks?”
I could see red burning on the Bishop’s cheeks. “They are not like us . . . not human. No longer God’s creatures. Look at them.”
I closed my eyes. My eyelids glowed green, and I could feel the shade of my eyelashes on my cheeks.
“She risked everything to come back to you,” Alex argued. “To come back with a way to stop the vampires . . .”
I heard clicks from the soldiers’ rifles. “They come with us.”
I let Alex and the soldiers lead me away into the field. Behind me, I could see the light from my house, outlining the silhouettes of the Elders. I could feel their gaze on us as we retreated.
My heart breaking, I plunged into the dark, shining, casting no shadow.
***
The soldiers trusted us just as much as my own people did, but in a different way. Where the Plain people trusted in the invisible God, the soldiers believed only in what they could see and feel and measure.
And what they could watch.
They took us back to the stall where I’d been imprisoned. They brought us food, water, and blankets. Alex and I lay huddled together in the straw, much as we’d done before we’d been placed under the
Bann
, months ago. But back then, we didn’t have a guard posted outside the door. I fussed with a weak board at the bottom of the stall around which cold air leaked. I was certain that we could escape, if we wanted to. But there was nowhere to go.
“I’m sorry, Bonnet,” Alex said, putting his arms around me. I wondered what would be easier—to know as he did that his parents were likely dead, or to be dead to one’s own.
I cast my eyes down. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t not expect it.”
“It still sucks.” I could hear the anger in his voice, anger on my behalf.
“There’s a story that is told often by Plain people,” I began. “It’s from the Book of Tobit.”
“I don’t know that one.”
“It’s not part of the traditional canon,” I said. “It is not . . . official. It is part of our Bible, but I don’t think that it survived to more modern ones.”
“Apocryphal, then. Lost or cast out.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what that word meant until he told me, but it seemed to fit. “The book starts out talking about a righteous man, Tobit. Tobit’s calling was to give proper burial to murdered Israelites. He carried out this task the Lord had given him many midnights, and in secret. For that, his property was stripped from him by the king and he was exiled. A sparrow’s nest fell from the sky and blinded him.”
“Hnh.” I could feel his breath against my hair.
Emboldened, I continued. Alex had told me many of his stories. Now it was my turn to tell him one of mine. “Meanwhile, there was a woman, Sarah, who had lost seven husbands to a demon in Media. God charged the archangel Raphael with two tasks: healing Tobit and freeing Sarah from the demon.
“Tobit had a son, Tobias. Tobias had been charged by his father to go to Media and collect the money owed to Tobit by Sarah’s father. Raphael, disguised as a man, came to Tobias and told him of Sarah’s plight. Tobias was instructed by Raphael on how to drive the demon away. Then Tobias and Sarah were married.”
“Does that method apply to vampires?” Alex asked.
“I doubt it. It involved burning the liver of a fish. The gallbladder of the fish was used to restore Tobit’s eyesight. Raphael revealed himself and disappeared into heaven.”
Silence hung in the semidarkness, and I traced a glowing vein on the back of Alex’s hand with my finger. “The story is beloved by the Amish for its example of faithfulness and servitude to God. For perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds.”
He didn’t argue with me. He didn’t tell me that my people were showing poor faith, or that I had broken mine.
Instead, he just held me.
And that was enough for me for that moment. Not always, I knew. But for that moment.
The soldiers seemed not to sleep. They bustled around us. I drowsed against Alex’s shoulder, conscious of voices and discussion. At dawn, a sharp rap came at our stall door. A formality, but one I appreciated. I rubbed my eyes against the light leaking in from the chinks in the barn slats. I was, as always, relieved to survive to see morning, even if it was cold and I could smell frost.
“Come in.”
Simmonds came inside with Jasper the medic and one of the young soldiers who had guarded us. Jasper was holding the jar we’d brought with us.
Simmonds crouched down before us. There was an odd humility to that gesture. He pointed to the jar. “Will you tell us how to use that?”
Alex nodded and pulled himself out of the straw. “You have clean syringes?” he asked.
The medic held up plastic packages of needles. “And we have a volunteer.” His gaze flicked to the young solider. “Tobias.”
I sucked in a breath. I didn’t believe in omens. But it chilled me.
The young man stood before us, his posture ramrod straight and his hands behind his back, feet spread apart. I wasn’t sure if that was for our benefit or for Simmonds’s.
“It’s not an easy process,” Alex said. “You’ll get sick. Really sick. It feels like the flu times ten. It lasts for days.”
The man didn’t meet our eyes. He looked at the wall.
Simmonds nodded at him. “I understand, sirs, ma’am.”
Tobias extended his arm and Jasper opened the jar. He ripped open one of the packets and withdrew a shiny plastic syringe. He drew a bit of the culture into the syringe. “More?”
“A little bit. About one cc from the clear fluid on the bottom,” Alex told him.
The liquid looked innocuous in the growing light. Tobias didn’t flinch when the needle was jabbed into his arm and the fluid drained away. The medic dabbed at the puncture site with gauze.
“Now you wait.” Alex nodded at him. “And make sure to get a bucket.”
***
I was eager to leave the barn. But also afraid.
I was no longer afraid of the vampires, or even of the soldiers. I was afraid of the shunning of my people.
But I steeled myself. I needed to see this. I had seen the good parts of Amish life, how we cared for one another as brothers and sisters in faith. I had seen the bad, how the Bishop had abused his power. Now I wanted to see my community as an Outsider. As a ghost.
And that is precisely what I was.
Alex and I followed a team of soldiers on patrol. We promised Simmonds that we would not stray from the group. He seemed at odds with himself about our leaving the barn, but in the end he took my word. My word seemed worth more than it had been last night.
And I was not sure that he could spare the men simply to babysit us. Various squads were busily casting crude ammunition from scrap metals and attempting to capture radio signals with antennae perched on top of the barn. Others had gone into the forest to hunt. Two of them had dragged back a doe that very morning.
“At least they seem to be earning their keep,” Alex muttered.
I shot him a warning glance. Whatever uneasy peace these men had developed with our community, I was loath to disturb it. We were outsiders among all, and I knew all too well how easily the majority could turn against the minority.
We climbed aboard a truck painted green and brown. It was open to the weather, like a courting buggy. The driver and one man sat up front behind a partition, and up to eight sat in benchlike seats in the back, facing each other. Alex shuffled me around to sit between him and the partition. It was clear that he did not fully trust the soldiers.
And he trusted the rest of our party even less. Two young Amish men climbed aboard, holding their hunting rifles. One was a young man I’d known all my life, Seth Beller. I was surprised to see him there. I opened my mouth to speak to him.
But he looked away, down at his hands. As if I didn’t exist.
Elijah climbed into the back of the truck beside him, carrying his own gun and a green military-style pouch that jingled like bullets. Elijah met my gaze, but I turned away. I could feel Alex pressing against my side, glaring at him.
“Is there a problem, folks?” one of the soldiers asked.
Alex gestured at him with his chin. “Other than that he tried to kill us, not much of one.”
Elijah shook his head. “No, sir. No problem.”
That response infuriated Alex and mollified the soldier. The truck started up, and we bounced over the rutted field.
Home looked much the same, but I felt as if I didn’t really exist in it. I saw many of my friends and neighbors outside, caring for their animals, doing laundry, carrying water from their wells. But they would not look at me. My next-door neighbor, upon recognizing me, turned her back and pinned a sheet on her clothesline. The woman who had once been my teacher in our one-room schoolhouse, the woman who had taught me to read and looked the other way when a library card fell out of my pocket, similarly looked away from me as we rolled past. The blacksmith, setting up buckets outside his forge, set down his tongs beside the bellows and turned his broad back to me. Frau Gerlach was feeding her chickens when we passed. I glanced at her but she just chattered to her chickens and pretended not to notice.
We passed a house that made me ache. I saw Elijah’s best friend, Sam, cutting wood. My best friend, Hannah, was gathering the pieces in the yard. Elijah and I had intended to go on
Rumspringa
with Sam and Hannah, before the end of the world happened. Instead, Sam and Hannah had gotten baptized at the same time Elijah had, and were to be married. It appeared they had already done so; Sam was no longer clean-shaven. He was wearing the stubble of a beard around his chin, as married men did.
I couldn’t help myself. I called out to her. “Hannah!”
She glanced up at me in startlement. Shock crossed her face, and her mouth opened. She took a step toward me.
But Sam had set down his ax. He gripped her elbow and led her back to the house.
I cast my eyes down, feeling bereft and foolish.
I was not the only thing missing from the landscape. Two houses were no longer standing. They were reduced to piles of charred beams and ash, burned down to the foundations.
“Vampires?” Alex asked the soldier at his elbow.
The soldier nodded. “We discovered ’em too late at that address. We chased them until morning, then burned them out at dawn.”
I swallowed. Alex and Ginger and I had killed the first vampires that had been unwittingly invited into our community by Elijah. He had thought they were his brothers, but they were not human any longer. There were either more vampires here than we had realized . . . or the land was no longer sacred, allowing any evil to cross in uninvited. I shuddered at that thought.