Sent Rising (Dove Strong) Page 2

  Wolfe quit trying to prop up the severed corn stalk and extended his arm, as if to fit it around my shoulders. “Is it true? Your uncle still hasn’t shown up? I thought he had. I mean you never said he hadn’t, and—”

  My brother wedged himself between us, his knife aloft. “Move back from my sister.”

  “No. You move back.” Diamond flung herself in front of Wolfe. Her blade hovered near my brother’s blonde, bearded throat.

  “I said cool it!”

  Both razor-edged weapons lowered at Jezebel’s command.

  Wolfe craned over Gilead’s shoulder. “Is it true about your uncle?”

  I nodded. “And is it true, what Jezebel said about other Christians going missing between here and California? That it’s not only my uncle who’s disappeared?”

  He bit his lip.

  “Wolfe. Don’t be a spineless slug. Tell the truth.”

  His shoulders sagged. “OK. Fine. Yes. I figured there was no need to mention the missing-Christians stuff since your uncle had shown up. The disappearances are happening up in Washington state too. And what the brat said about your people breaking into the Christian Terrorist Detention Centers wasn’t a lie either. Not that they’ve found any of the missing believers there...but the attacks on the centers have been pretty regular lately.”

  I pictured the pink cracked walls from the week I’d spent in the detention center for religious terrorists last spring. Was my uncle there right now? Had he been arrested by nonbelievers for some trivial illegal deed? Was he now stuck inside with no hope of getting out?

  Gilead returned his knife to the rope loop he used for a belt and hummed a few bars of my grandma’s favorite hymn. His fingers shot out, gripped Wolfe’s black shirt, and reeled him in. “Where is Ochoco’s closest detention center? Give me directions for the fastest way to get there.”

  Diamond stuck her knife between her teeth pirate-style. But before she could launch herself onto my brother’s back, Trinity’s calm voice piped up from the flowers.

  “Or...my dad’s merely at home. Resting and recovering from the flu or a busted ankle. Before we go bashing down the door of the Heathens’ detention center to free him, we’ll check home first. If he’s not there, Grandpa will know where to look.”

  Gilead’s grip relaxed at my cousin’s obvious wisdom, and Wolfe was able to yank his shirt free. As the potential for a fight passed to nothing, excitement drained from Diamond’s eyes. She straightened from her crouch, wiped the spit from her switchblade, and moved back to the woodpile.

  I scrubbed my dirty palms against my home-sewn pants that used to be Gilead’s and headed toward the front of the painted home where the familiar white Jeep waited. “You’re driving us, Wolfe. I mean...uh, please?”

  “On it.” The keys jangled in his tanned fingers. He swung past me to open the ancient vehicle’s dented door. “First stop for doughnuts?”

  I groaned. No more doughnuts. I’d ingested more of that sweet pastry in this town than I’d eaten squirrel my whole life growing up in Ochoco.

  “No. First stop is Micah’s place.” Trinity clambered past me into the backseat area. One hand cradled red strawberries.

  “Right.” He began to whistle my brother’s hummed hymn.

  I planted myself at the Jeep’s open door. With a sigh, I shook my head. “Gilead, get in. Jezebel, get out.”

  Still whistling, Wolfe extracted his struggling sister from the seat next to Trinity.

  She kicked the air and writhed to break his grip. “Lemme go, Woof! It’s not fair! I’m coming to Dove’s house, too!”

  “Not this time, brat. You’re not invited.” He thrust her at Diamond, whose wiry arm came around the little girl’s scrawny middle like a snare.

  I crossed my arms. “Gilead? We’re waiting on you. You were the one in the big hurry to find Uncle Saul.”

  My brother quit studying the distant treetops and frowned. “Not in that death trap, and not with him driving. If you and Trinity had any decency, you’d refuse his ride, too.”

  I plunked down on the hot seat and slammed the door.

  His lowered head filled the window’s opening. “Fine. Micah and I will meet you at our property in a couple days. Wait for me there.”

  “Fine.” I hit a button and the glass rolled up.

  Wolfe quit whistling and leaned over. He spoke in a low murmur. “Maybe this is bad timing, but the guy called Lobo left a message for you. He’ll be here tomorrow morning to collect you with Jessica. He hinted about werewolves, gators, and a dead voodoo princess. Which means ten-to-one your next survival is in the Manchac Swamp. That’s Louisiana. You have experience dealing with haunted swamps, I hope?”

  “Shish.” I glanced back, but Trinity was in her own world of shapes and colors. Her slim fingers held a heart-shaped berry in the sunbeam. The red glowed like a ruby. “How would I know about swamps? You know I’ve been in Ochoco all my life and haven’t gone anywhere else. Well...except Texas. And New Mexico. And Colorado, Utah, and Idaho.”

  Being God’s messenger had made me quite well-traveled, when I actually listed the places I’d been. But I hadn’t been to Louisiana.

  What would it be like there? A swamp with alligators? The werewolf and voodoo stuff...not a big deal. I faced Satan’s obstacles every day as part of the Sent. Did it matter what form evil came in? A dead voodoo princess or Diamond with a crossbow? Nope.

  I shrugged. “It’ll be Lobo’s problem tomorrow. Not mine. If I’m not here, I’m not here, and I can’t go.”

  Wolfe guffawed. “Sure. No problem. And when you’re arrested for breach of contract again, I’ll just come bust you out of the CTDC like the rest of the Christians are doing.”

  I rolled my eyes. Still...

  I bit my lip. Jessica was coming here. I’d been watching for her in town all June, and now she arrived tomorrow. Jessica and Diamond were cousins, and the only true difference between them was that Diamond glared and threw pointed elbows...whereas Jessica glared and threw out pointed questions, revealing a burning curiosity to know more about the true God.

  If I found my uncle at home today, Wolfe could have me back in town in time to go to Louisiana for Fanatic Surviving. If my uncle wasn’t at home...

  I strapped the safety belt around my waist. God alone knew whether or not I’d be here in Sisters tomorrow to meet Jessica and Lobo. So why whine about it?

  “Wolfe? Are you driving me home sometime today? Please?”

  “Sure.” He turned on the engine and peeled his gaze from my brother, who loomed next to his window.

  Gilead continued to drag a slow finger across his throat. His message was clear.

  Touch my sister...I kill you.

  3

  My stunned body pivoted in a slow, full circle. I forced my eyes to stay open instead of squeezing shut to block out the harsh reality illuminated by the sun’s tawny rays.

  Oh, God, how...

  My unfinished prayer trailed off. Fat flies speckled the ruined zucchinis. The green squash—swollen to the size of eggplants—rotted back into the parched soil. My rotating feet trampled their vines’ limp leaves that had overgrown and swallowed up the path before dying of thirst. The extreme heat had destroyed every crop my family had planted. Why hadn’t anyone watered them?

  A shifting, metallic noise broke through the insect hum. Wolfe picked up one of the bike-chain lanterns that sprawled in its own broken glass at the foot of the tin-can rainbow. He cradled it, and with another clank, rehung it on its hook.

  Trinity hadn’t moved since entering our family’s ruined garden. Every few moments, she exhaled one word.

  “Dead...dead...dead...”

  I filled my lungs with the hot aroma of spoiled vegetables, baking dirt, and pine. No bell pealed overhead. No shaggy-haired boys tumbled over each other like puppies or shouted. No mothers hurled themselves down the ladder to hug their daughters.

  A crow’s angry caw interrupted the too-silent—yet familiar—nightmare. I let the black-fea
thered scavenger return to his zucchini meal at my shoe and steered Trinity to the maple’s ladder.

  We never used the ladder, but now my muscles felt as solid as the rotting squash behind me. If I climbed my usual route of leafy branches up to the platform, I’d fall.

  I balanced on the edge of the living space platform and allowed myself a long blink—a tiny reprieve from the new terrible scene I faced. Trinity whimpered.

  “Oh no...no.”

  “What?” Wolfe had trailed us up the ladder to our home’s back entrance. He nudged me out of the doorway. “What’s the trouble?”

  His wide, brown eyes lifted to the sturdy ceiling beam that had held him aloft by his ankles months ago. He wandered into the middle of the empty space. His arms spread wide. “I don’t see anybody...or a sign of a fight. Dove? Trinity? What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. The terror that gripped my cousin and me sprang from the fact that there wasn’t anybody to see. That there was no sign of recent activity—a fight or otherwise. The nothingness...the abandoned air...the undone chores and housework—that was what made my lids squeeze shut and Trinity struggle not to cry. Our family had nowhere to go. They couldn’t have left. But they had.

  Where, Lord? Why?

  I walked in a straight line past the empty willow chair, refusing to focus on the familiar seat whose occupant had died last spring. I paused at the platform’s opposite railing. My grandpa’s lookout platform perched near the upper canopy of the neighboring tree. The large, rusted bell hung silent. A thick layer of leaves covered his rumpled blanket on the weathered boards.

  Trinity’s running footfall echoed from nearer floorboards. She checked the sleeping porches. Then a balcony. Trudging steps returned to where I waited.

  “They didn’t leave a message or note. And there’s this. Your mom didn’t take it with her.” She handed me an ancient willow frame.

  My fingertips traced the warm smoothness through the dust. The yellowed paper with my parents’ signatures glinted at me under the glass. “No. She would never have left her marriage certificate behind, wherever she went. Not on purpose.”

  “I know. My parents’ is still next to their hammock too. Next to the family portrait I carved before we became Sent that my mom said she’d cherish forever. Forever. No way she’d have left it.”

  Silence pressed down.

  “Dove, they...they could be visiting the Braes’ home. Or maybe they’re with the Joyners. Maybe they’ll be back tonight.”

  The state of the garden and the tree debris scattered across the floor and wedged in crevices shouted the truth. They’d been gone for a week or more. Not out visiting neighbors for the day.

  Trinity’s unsteady finger scrolled a wavy heart around my parents’ handwriting. “Let’s check. I’ll go to Micah’s home. I...I wanted to see what his mom is like anyway. You visit the Joyners.”

  I nodded, grateful she suggested I go to the Joyners’ because I couldn’t stay here in my abandoned home tonight while we waited for Gilead. I’d end up in Gran’s chair, a blubbering mess. And I also couldn’t face the Braes’ claustrophobic tunnels and Micah’s parents. And the other Brae girls.

  My insides clenched. They were miniature Melodys...Melody, the friend I thought I could trust. But she’d turned out to be a traitor like Stone, choosing to side with Warrior Reed whose ultimate goal was to push our country’s Christians into a bloody war with non-believers called the Reclaim, even if it meant us sinning to do it.

  Wolfe gave a hearty clap. “Great. And where do I check?”

  “Go with Dove. She’ll need help making sure the zip lines are secure.”

  “Zip lines! Isn’t riding them like flying?”

  My lips tightened at his excitement. This terrible situation was exactly like my old, reoccurring dream with the dove...except without the dripping red and I had no ability to fly. My family was gone. How could he smile?

  He caught my dagger-look and returned it with a hang-dog expression. “I mean...I’ve got your back on securing the zip lines, Dove. And we’ll find your family. I promise. Like Trinity said, they’re probably off visiting neighbors. My grandma disappears for days sometimes. Weeks. So do I. But we always find our way home. Eventually.”

  I turned my back on him and his unfounded optimism. “I’ll come with you to the Braes’ entrance, Trinity. Getting there is tricky.”

  She shook her coiled hair and shouldered her satchel. The dried roses she’d stitched on the bag’s sides rustled with a faint cloud of scent. “No need. Gil and Micah created a shortcut that comes to the edge of our property, and I know where the tunnel’s entrance is. You should get going now so you can reach the Joyners’ before dark. You can’t check zip line cables if you can’t see them.”

  “Meet you back here tomorrow? No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  I glared into her smoky, wideset eyes. “Don’t go and get yourself trapped underground in an avalanche.”

  “And you don’t slack off. Otherwise you’ll break your neck.”

  We ended our brief hug when Wolfe joined in.

  “What? No one cares if I fall, too? We’ll find your family, girls, I promise. Now lead the way to the zip lines.”

  4

  The pines blurred past, indistinct brown and green pillars in the golden light. Ahead, Wolfe’s figure at the far-away tree where the cable ended swelled from a speck into a life-sized person. He balanced on a limb, his tall self blocking the exact spot of the trunk I would use to stop myself. His bare arms were open, as if to catch me at the end of my final zip line.

  I shouted to be heard above the screaming whir of Gilead’s handmade trolley-device flying down the cable. “Move yourself! Drop down. Down!”

  I gripped my handle-hold tighter, and the metal trolley hit the block of wood on the line. With a whiplashing motion, my body swung forward. My legs caught and gripped the trunk inches above Wolfe’s hair.

  He pulled himself up straight. “I can’t help that I’m so chivalrous.”

  I batted away his attempt to unfasten my harness. “Yeah, that was real helpful. We both almost died...well, mostly you.”

  “Hey. Don’t forget I was the one who noticed the cable separating from the ginormous, pitchy tree back at the beginning. And I rode first each time to make sure the cables would hold. I kept you safe like Gilead would have.”

  “Except my brother doesn’t shout ‘yee-haw’ and ‘let’s do this’ when he rides.”

  He grinned and stepped from the branch onto the Joyners’ porch that was twice as wide as the actual home. He offered me a hand. “So, this is it? The Joyners live here?”

  I nodded. Despite the fact I’d never visited before and that this was all unfamiliar territory, we were at the right place. We only had one tree-dwelling neighbor.

  “Cozy.” His six-foot frame blocked my beeline to the green-stained door. “Half a sec. Is there anything—anyone—you need to tell me about before we drop in unannounced?”

  “Huh?”

  “Is there a neighbor living here who is, you know, someone you’re special friends with? A special guy?”

  “Sky alive, Wolfe! Mr. Joyner is super old—probably almost thirty. He’s married, and they have a baby girl. Now move aside. My mom might be in there.”

  I yanked the oval door open. “Shalom?”

  The Joyners’ enclosed space was at least five times smaller than my home’s, yet it contained the same abandoned air. Too quiet. Too still. Forest debris littered the floor planks.

  “Hello? We come in peace. So, don’t attack us.” Wolfe’s messy strands brushed the rafters of the living space that included a kitchen, a crib, and a double-wide hammock.

  A terrible thought made my heart slam. I sprinted to the crib and peered inside.

  It was empty except for a stuffed raccoon toy and some pine needles.

  My breath escaped in a gust of relief. I sank down onto Mrs. Joyner’s rainbow, knotty rug while Wolfe flung open a shutter. He l
eaned out with cupped hands.

  “Hello—oo! Dove’s mom? Saul? Mr. and Mrs. Joyner? Are you out there?”

  He gave up and walked the perimeter of the room. “It’s a small place. Doesn’t seem to be any other spots to check, does there?”

  “No.”

  “Hey.” He sank down next to me. The weight of his forearm came across my shoulders. “Hey. Dove. Don’t be like that. It’s OK. They’re probably over at the Braes’. Trinity’s talking with them right now, and they’re all hugging and laughing at you and me for making the long trip out here. No, listen to me. Trinity said Gilead made a tunnel from your property to their place, right? And you’ve got a whole herd of kid cousins? Where’s the most likely place they’d evacuate to if they felt they needed to go somewhere fast?”

  His eyes smiled into mine.

  “Exactly. They’d go to the Braes’. Because it’s closer and easier to get a bunch of kids through some tunnels than having to zip line over here one by one. Right? So that’s where they’ll be. I bet the Joyners are there, too. No doubt they heard about the recent Christian disappearances and decided to lie low for a couple weeks and hide. Think about it—out of all three homes, which is the most hidden?”

  “The Braes’.”

  “Exactly. So that’s where they headed. They’re not all as lamebrain as you, Dove. They’re doing what they’re good at—surviving. Taking care of themselves. Playing it safe.”

  He was right. My grandpa always had a plan to protect the family. If plan A didn’t work, he’d switch to plan B...and so on, right on to plan Z.

  For the first time since arriving in Ochoco, I made my own worries shut up and listened to God.

  What do You want me to do? Return home? Keep searching? I’ll do it...whatever You say.

  Silence. Yet a detailed scene of my own making played out behind my closed lids. In the deepening twilight, I coached Wolfe on the harder process of returning home on the zip lines. I spat instructions at him and steamed with frustration. He fumbled in the gloomy darkness on limbs he couldn’t see.