Escape from Eden (29 page)

“When I was ten,” I said, studying the map.

“It’s good. Who is it?”

“My father.”

“You miss him?”

I looked up, and felt my brow pinch. “I don’t know.”

Gabriel nodded. “It’s okay, you know. Not to miss them. You need to live for the living, not the dead. I mean, I don’t always miss my brother. And it’s okay.”

I tilted my head at him.

“At least, that’s what my ex-therapist told me.” He didn’t wait for a reaction from me. “So where to?”

We needed to get to the Reverend’s cottage–the first, and most terrifying, place to plant a microphone.

“Follow me,” I said, shoving the map in my pocket.

The tunnel was silent, except for the echoing drips of water. Gabriel followed closely behind, so close I could feel his warm breath fight through the chilly damp air on my neck.

I stopped at a three-way split in the tunnel, and tugged the map from my pocket again. I studied it, still confused as to where we were. Putting the map away, I shut my eyes and imagined the layout of Edenton. Gabriel, to his benefit, said nothing, but I could feel his adrenaline-fueled bouncing behind me.

“This way,” I said, pointing to the right.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t, but I plowed ahead anyway. We’d figure out where we were eventually. There were only so many places the tunnels could go.

We came across a stairway, the third we’d seen. It was the first, though, that seemed familiar. It wasn’t that it was clearly different from the other stairways, but the way the tunnel turned to the right next to it, the way the caged light above was slightly crooked, part of the clear bulb cracked but not broken. There was a stain at the bottom of the last step–dark with sweeping crisscrossing scrubbed marks.

Gabriel pointed to the stain. “Have we been here—”

A murmur of muffled voices.

A clicking metallic noise from the top of the staircase.

Fear ripped through me. People were coming down the stairs.

Gabriel snatched my arm and shoved me into the tiny space below the staircase’s landing. Beneath the landing, the damp walls loomed over me, encroaching on the cramped, but secluded space. Gabriel tucked himself into the small gap in front of me. We were facing each other, knees tangled together, panicked breaths mingling.

Footsteps came down the steps. They were heavy. Thudding, the sound resonating off the walls around us. My heart beat so frantically that I saw everything vibrate around me in time to my pulse. I’d known there was a chance of this happening, but stupidly, I didn’t think about what we would do. What was our excuse? I kept my body from trembling, but the terror was too hard to control. My lip began to quiver and I bit down on it. Cold leached from the concrete wall against my back, my shoulder. My wet hair clung to the back of my neck. The chill and the tension drained any warmth from my body, and I cocooned myself into Gabriel. To keep from trembling. To hide.

Light slanted across Gabriel’s face. His gaze was fixed on mine, his green-blue eyes twinkled beneath their thick lashes, stripped of his usual humor. Then my heart beat frantically for a different reason. His eyes were clear as glass and focused on me–and full of desire.

“The progress at Las Casitas is going well,” Thaddeus said, stomping down the steps, causing the metal treads screwed into each to rattle.

I tore my gaze from Gabriel’s. I couldn’t look into the depths of his eyes and concentrate on what the two men were saying.

“Okay,” the Reverend responded. His step was also heavy, but his shoes made a soft sound each time they hit a stair.

“We’ve paid the workers twice as much per hour to speed up productivity,” Thaddeus said. “So, be sure to mention how impressed you are with their work.”

There was a pause. “Yes, I’ll do that,” the Reverend said. His tone was flat.

I felt Gabriel’s arm around me, pulling me closer. His breathing had grown heavier, deeper, heating the chilled, wet skin on my neck. His breath made me shudder.

“The clients that were in the fire,” Thaddeus said, “have been refunded their money with guarantees it won’t happen again.”

“That was prudent,” the Reverend said. “And what will I say when I see them again?”

“I’ll take care of it. You don’t say anything. Once we’re back in business, offer them a handshake and nothing more.”

I shivered as Gabriel shifted his hand and circled his fingertips over the skin of my calf, between each healing scratch. It burned where he touched me. My mind, first clouded with fear, now clouded with lust. I didn’t understand why he was doing this, how we could ignite so quickly, like dry leaves catching from an errant spark. I watched his fingers trail down my leg but sat still, too afraid to move. I tilted my head up slowly and met his eyes again.

“It better not happen again,” Thaddeus said.

“I’m sorry,” the Reverend said. “I thought Ivy knew what she was doing.”

“We both did. She claimed to know how to administer the drugs.” Thaddeus sounded angry. “A few of our clients reported seeing a teenage boy setting the cottages on fire. It must have been Gabriel. He should be severely punished for what he’s done.”

Gabriel’s gaze went blank. I blinked. What did they just say?

“Then punish him,” the Reverend said. “You’ve done it before. How difficult would it be?”

“I have him on the heap.”

“Maybe a harsher punishment?”

My mind went back to what Doc Gladstone had said: The Reverend uses the Bible’s lessons in penance as models for torture. But it didn’t sound like the Reverend was making the decisions about Gabriel’s punishment.

“If he remembered his indiscretion,” Thaddeus said, “then a harsher punishment would be the answer. I don’t think we should injure him in any physical way, as he promises to make us a lot of money at Las Casitas. We have a long list of bids for his time, and we’ve just raised his asking price significantly. No one has withdrawn their bids.”

Gabriel’s eyes swam with confusion.

“And Mia,” Thaddeus continued. “Lambert has doubled his offer. He could certainly go higher if we asked.”

I watched Gabriel’s expression drop into cold fury. I turned my face away from his, disgusted and embarrassed that they so casually spoke of our bodies as playthings for others.

“That other girl still in a coma?” the Reverend asked.

“Yes.” Thaddeus paused. “And there is another problem we’re dealing with tonight with another member of the Flock, but you don’t need to know about that now. It should be solved before dawn regardless.”

I heard the shuffle of feet, and saw the Reverend’s bloated belly lead him a few steps down the tunnel.

“Reverend, stay here,” Thaddeus said and I watched the Reverend freeze in place. “Freddie should have been here ten minutes ago to drive us over.”

A crackling noise.

“Grizz, where is Freddie? The Reverend wants to inspect the progress at Las Casitas now.”

A garbled reply echoed in the tunnel.

“Freddie will be here any moment,” Thaddeus said.

The Reverend blinked a few times and hung his head. He looked broken standing there, alone and hunched over. He inhaled a great breath and puffed up. In the small sliver of space, I could see his expression darken, as if he were putting on a mask of anger.

Seconds later, the sound of a motor, a small motor, barreled toward the staircase.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” was Freddie’s rushed announcement as he pulled up. I saw a glimpse of a golf cart as it passed the far edge of the staircase.

“What the hell happened?” the Reverend snapped. Now he sounded more like the Reverend I knew.

“Rain,” Freddie said, “caused some problems. Couldn’t get this thing started.”

“It’s not raining in the tunnels, boy,” the Reverend said. “Shouldn’t have affected it.”

“The dampness,” Freddie said quickly. “Things are very … damp.”

From the bouncing squeaks, I could tell they were getting into the cart. A few moments later, they drove off down the tunnel, the buzz of the motor fading away.

We stayed in that cramped space a few moments, not looking at each other, either making sure they were gone, or too embarrassed for our gazes to meet. Finally, Gabriel crawled out of the space and reached his hand down to me. I took it. I glanced down either side of the tunnel before stepping out from behind the staircase. It was empty.

“This is where they took us,” Gabriel said, voice subdued and haunted with memory. He stepped into the center of the tunnel and gestured in the direction the cart had driven. “After they drugged us at Prayer Circle, in the Reverend’s cottage. This is how they got us to Las Casitas. I remember a little.”

Images flashed. My feet stumbling down the steps. The strange dark stain on the floor that was only half scrubbed away. The bent cage light, casting twisted tree-branch shadows over the concrete floor. Juanita, next to me in the golf cart, dark ringlets of hair covering her face as she hung forward.

“Then,” I said, turning to the stairs, “we plant the microphone right up there. Behind that door. It must be the Reverend’s cottage.”

“I’ll do it,” Gabriel said, holding out a hand.

“No way. I’m going in, too.”

“Someone needs to be the lookout.”

“I have the microphones,” I said, starting up the stairs.

Gabriel came up behind me and said in a quiet voice, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Obviously,” I mumbled.

The door at the top of the stairs opened silently. It was a heavy door, heavier than the one in the infirmary. Gabriel tugged back on the handle to open it wide. Inside, it was dark, the light from the tunnel only illuminating a few feet in front of us. We stood at the mouth of a hallway. Memories came back as they’d done when I saw the stain on the tunnel floor. I remembered the hallway, tripping over Gabriel, and seeing Juanita passed out next to me. I tamped down the visions of what had happened, and stepped into the hall.

Once we were a few feet inside, Gabriel’s breath grew shallow. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “This is where they got me.”

He pointed to an open doorway. It led to the antechamber I’d entered hesitantly the night of Prayer Circle, well behind Gabriel and Juanita.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Keep going.”

We entered the Reverend’s living room. It was the same as before, lined with books surrounding a cozy sofa and chairs. It looked as if it were someone else’s space, a sweet grandfatherly type. Not the cruel man who planned to kill his Flock. I walked a slow circuit around the room, inspecting the books. I passed two entire bookshelves on preaching. Books like
The Art and Craft of Biblical Preaching
,
Doctrine that Dances
, and
The Burdensome Joy of Preaching
. A floor-to-ceiling shelf was filled with Bibles, and other majestic-looking books titled the Qur’an, Tao Te Ching, and Talmud. On another I saw what looked like novels. I didn’t recognize any of the titles, but many were labeled “a novel.”

“Just put the microphone somewhere,” Gabriel said impatiently.

“What are these?” I asked, pointing to a shelf filled with thin cases. “DVDs?”

Gabriel’s brows went up. “Good, Ricci. You recognize obsolete technology. Now, plant the damn microphone and let’s go.”

I slid a few out. They were the Reverend’s sermons, dated before the creation of Edenton. I scanned the titles: Blessed are the Peacemakers, Joy–Fruit of the Spirit, Building a Caring Church. “He’s never preached any of these sermons since I’ve been in Edenton,” I said.

“So he’s changed up his program.”

“Yeah, but drastically.” I held up one DVD. “This one’s about the preciousness of human life. Why would he preach this then kill his own Flock?”

“He’s grown cranky in his old age.” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. “Now come on.”

I put the DVD back. I scrabbled for a microphone in my pocket, then stuck it under the coffee table.

“Thaddeus’s cottage next?” I asked once we were back in the tunnel.

“Lead the way.”

Thaddeus’s wasn’t far, and inside it was empty and cold. Even Gabriel took a moment to examine the strange skeletons of animals on display on Thaddeus’s shelves.

“Why do you think he has these?” he asked me.

“Maybe he hunts. Maybe he likes dissecting them.” I thought about Thaddeus’s infamous patience–maybe it was more like controlled malice. “What if he kills them for fun, dissects them while they’re still alive—”

“Vivisection,” Gabriel said.

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yep. Sick stuff.”

“This whole place is sick,” I mumbled, affixing a microphone to the underside of Thaddeus’s desk. After we descended the steps back into the tunnel, I stopped. “I need to go to the kitchen.” I held up my wrist. “I want to check the provisions pantry.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’m hungry. Will you cook me something?”

“No.”

“Come on, Ricci.” He slipped his arm over my shoulder and I tensed.

He sensed my discomfort. “Mia, about earlier, under the stairs—”

“Stop,” I said. “Not now, okay?”

“But—”

“Gabriel, I said stop. I don’t want to talk about it.”

I unthreaded his arm from my neck and looked around the tunnel, trying to hide my discomfort with fake curiosity. I didn’t want an explanation on why he kissed me. I didn’t want an apology, either. I thought about Bridgette and how much I envied the happiness on her face earlier. I didn’t want to envy Bridgette. I didn’t want to envy anybody.

“We need to keep moving.”

I walked in the direction of the infirmary.

“Is there a tunnel entrance in the kitchen?” Gabriel asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve never seen a door or anything that would lead to stairs.”

“Hmm. Seems like an obvious place to have an entrance.”

“No,” I said. “Too many people wandering around. They wouldn’t risk having a mystery door in the middle of the kitchen.”

“Isn’t that what the special provisions pantry is? Just a mysterious door?”

“Wait.” I stopped walking and turned to him. “Are you saying the pantry isn’t a pantry? It’s a door to the tunnel?”