Chapter Text
Pratt was a coward. He’d never run so hard or so fast from anything.
A heavy canopy of darkness hung over him. There was no sign of the moon, no stars, just the endless stretch of interwoven branches that rattled overhead. He stumbled from tree to tree, clinging for a moment to each one. Like a drowning man, he heaved for air before plunging back into the sea of ferns until he reached the next trunk.
This must be another one of Jacob’s tests. It was all some fucked up ploy to prove just how weak he was. He wasn’t fast enough to outrun the Judges. He wasn’t convicted enough to pull the trigger at the right target. He wasn’t even strong enough to sacrifice himself when all else failed.
Coward.
Worthless.
Only you…
Each step forward was its own agony. The further he ran, the greater his inevitable punishment would be. He held back a sob behind clenched teeth. Any moment he was sure Jacob would materialize before him with his little music box in hand. The first pitiful strains of its song echoed in his ears.
He shook his head so hard he stumbled to his knees. In a heartbeat he was back on his feet. As long as he didn't hear that song, he could keep the nightmares at bay.
“Don’t let her down,” he wheezed. "You can't let her down."
She'd given herself up for him. As much as he wanted to believe that she was strong enough to fend off the Judges, he knew the sickening truth. The moment he'd heard the howling grow faint, the moment he'd realized they'd changed course, he knew it was over for her.
He brought a sweat-slick palm to his mouth and stifled another sob.
God, he was so fucking lost. There wasn't a single landmark his addled mind could place that would make his surroundings make sense.
He should stop and reorient himself. Some long dormant survival training from his days as a park volunteer surfaced in the back of his mind. But a part of him was terrified that if he stopped running, he might not be able to force his conditioned body to take another step. Even now Jacob’s disapproving sneer was all he could-
A beam of light cut through the darkness. He yelped in surprise and dove for cover. But it was too late. It honed in on him instantly. The next thing he knew he was face down in the damp soil howling for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run. Don’t let the Judges have me. Please don’t-”
“Pratt? Deputy Pratt?” someone gasped.
“God, he looks like hell," another gruff voice said.
They're mocking me. He curled his arms over his head. His whole body was shaking and he was surprised he hadn't pissed himself already.
“Staci,” a familiar voice called. There was a shuffling through the undergrowth. Someone knelt nearby. “Come here Staci. I got you.” Whitehorse grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him to his knees.
Pratt blinked up at the man, wondering what sort of cruel trick this was. Was Jacob trying to get him to drop his guard? He glanced over his shoulder and waited for him to come sauntering through the ferns with Judges on his heels.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” The sheriff’s voice shook. For a moment Pratt thought it was out of anger - for him getting caught up in Jacob’s games - but when he looked into his watery eyes all he saw was concern.
The realization came crashing down like a cold relentless wave. Jacob wasn’t coming. He’d actually managed to get away.
He looked into the sheriff’s eyes again. Saw the pity in them. He shuddered in disgust. “I left her,” he croaked. “She got me out and I left her to the fucking wolves.”
“Who? What’s he talking about?” one of the men beyond the light asked.
Whitehorse’s frown deepened. “You mean Rook,” he offered.
Because I pulled a gun on her. He couldn’t say it out loud. Jacob always told him what a coward he was. Even now he couldn’t fight it. He wanted to pull at the roots of his hair and scream, but Whitehorse kept his arms pinned to his sides. He let out a pathetic whimper.
“Where is she, Deputy?”
“She said she was headed for the Henbane, but… Jacob has her.” Some might call it a guess, but he knew better. After all, no one could outrun the Judges.
-
They brought Pratt back to the Militia’s hideout. One of the others on patrol must have called ahead, because by the time they opened the hatch, one of the medics was already prepped and waiting.
Pratt sat on the gurney, shaking like a leaf while the medic rattled on about malnourishment and dehydration. The man wasn’t the type of doctor that could do a psych eval, but Whitehorse had seen enough with Joey to know what to expect.
When the doctor stepped out of the room, muttering something about chicken broth, Pratt seemed to snap out of his thousand yard stare and take in his new surroundings. He glanced at Whitehorse, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he couldn’t decide what to say.
“She pointed a gun at me,” he blurted, then immediately winced.
“What’d she do that for?” Whitehorse tried to speak evenly, but his mind was already racing back to the incident with Tracy. Was she really that far gone?
“I think she wanted to scare me into running faster.”
“Oh. Did it work?”
He nodded, then dropped his gaze to the floor.
Before Whitehorse could think to ask any more questions the doctor reappeared with a steaming paper cup. “Eli’s called a meeting, sheriff. He’s waiting for you to join them.”
Whitehorse tipped his hat to the man and headed for the meeting room. When he arrived, Eli, Wheaty, and their “intel specialist” Tammy were already standing around the small folding table. Over the table someone had rolled out old blueprints of the Veterans Center before the pre-peggie restoration project had begun. Eli hunched over them, running a finger along one of the many creases.
“Glad you got one of your deputies back, Sheriff,” he said. “How ‘bout we get you that other one?”
Whitehorse glanced at the blueprints, then at the bandages still wound around Wheaty’s chest. He ran a hand over his mustache. “You sure about that? Pratt thinks Jacob has her, but we haven’t been able to confirm-”
“To be honest, this ain’t all about your deputy. If she really snuck Pratt out from under Jacob’s nose then that stubborn son of a bitch is going to do everything he can to get him back. Right now he’s pissed off. But he’s also distracted. He won’t expect a raid from us so soon.”
“How soon?”
Eli exchanged a glance with Wheaty and Tammy.
“We already had most of our supplies ready to go,” Tammy said. “The boys are getting geared up as we speak. Peggies are gonna have one hell of a wake-up call.”
-
Joseph paced back and forth along the creaky floorboards in Jacob’s cluttered office. He found himself repeatedly flexing his right palm and missing the soothing pressure of his rosary beads.
Delilah had them. Wherever she was.
The sirens had awoken him with a start. He called out to God with thanks that the Collapse had finally come. When he reached for Delilah he found her half of their bed empty and cold. His heart lurched. He yanked back the curtains, half expecting to see blazing cleansing fires on the horizon and the chaos of his flock’s mad dash to Jacob’s Gate. Instead a blinding searchlight swept the surrounding clearing in wide circles as music - Jacob’s music - blared from the speakers. Several armed patrols appeared outside the front gate with Judges in tow.
Joseph threw back the covers and rushed to get dressed, muttering prayers under his breath all the while. A part of him hoped that this was all some strange coincidence. That Delilah wasn’t involved and had just chosen to get some fresh air at a bad time. The other part of him was unable to believe in coincidences.
By the time he reached the front gate, Jacob was in the middle of checking gear with this Chosen. Two Judges circled around them, snuffling at Jacob’s boots and shyly wagging their tails.
Before Joseph could ask any questions, Jacob began providing answers. “Pratt’s missing. Night watch checked the barracks and found his bedroll empty. Guards walking the perimeter said they didn’t see a thing.”
“Delilah’s gone.”
Jacob paused in the middle of checking his gun and gave him a look. The same exact ‘I told you so’ look he’d worn a million times when they were boys. “Right,” he said and slapped Joseph on the shoulder.
Joseph grabbed his hand and tilted his head back to look him in the eye. “She comes back safe. Unharmed.”
Bang.
Both men whipped their heads in the direction of the shot. It came southwest from the woods.
Joseph reached for the Voice with a wordless query, like a child seeking out the comfort of its father. It made no reply.
“Move out,” Jacob said.
The Judges took off with excited yelps and a long howl. Jacob’s scouts jogged after them and disappeared into the trees. He attempted to follow his men, but Joseph still held a white-knuckle grip on his jacket.
With a gentle but firm motion he removed Joseph’s hand. “The Judges will do exactly what they’re trained to,” he called over his shoulder before vanishing into the dark.
Joseph lingered at the gate for a moment. He wanted to call out to his brother, make him see things the right way. He knew he could - that Jacob would relent and listen because he always did. But any time they spent arguing meant that Deputy Pratt - and more importantly, Delilah - would slip further and further out of reach.
Given his limited options and uncertainty regarding Delilah’s whereabouts, he retreated behind the walls of the compound and shut himself up in Jacob’s office. His only options were to wait and pray - which is exactly what he did.
He reminded God of his faithfulness to Job. How he’d lost everything once and wasn’t meant to face that again. How Delilah was Cleansed and had a place in New Eden alongside the rest of his family. Every once in a while he would pause his pacing to look out the window beyond the searchlights to the jagged line of trees. He leveled his full penetrating stare into the darkness as if by sheer force of will he could see through the shadows and find Delilah trudging her way back to the compound. To him.
She was out there searching for answers because he hadn’t provided them soon enough. The circumstances had forced him to accept that. He had to tell her…
There was no way of knowing how long exactly he waited in Jacob’s office. Somewhere in the dark a clock ticked away, counting down the meager seconds this world had left. He refused to seek it out. He had to learn to trust God’s sense of timing, not his own.
After what simultaneously felt like a lifetime and the blink of an eye, the office door flew open. Light from the hallway poured in and revealed the clock that had kept him company. It read 4:34 AM. Jacob stepped inside.
“Did you find her?” Joseph asked hoarsely.
Jacob nodded. “One of the Judges roughed her up a little, but she’ll be fine.”
“Good.” His shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you-”
“She was running with Pratt. When he heard the song his conditioning kicked in and he pulled a gun on her. That was the shot we heard. Caught up with her trying to circle wide around the compound.”
With their suspicions confirmed, he knew Jacob was expecting some strong reaction - outrage, perhaps - but any anger was far outweighed by relief.
“Just thought you’d want to know,” Jacob huffed after a moment of silence.
“Take me to her.”
Jacob turned on his heel and was out of the room before he even finished speaking.
-
She couldn’t stop shaking.
From the moment Jacob slammed the door shut and thundered down the hall, cold terror settled like a stone in her gut. She was on her feet moments later. Her fist rattled the doorknob in its socket. Instinct begged her to run, to do anything rather than face Joseph again.
That option was long gone. It was too late to follow Pratt. Even if she made it back to the woods she couldn’t outrun the Judges or fight back with her throbbing arm.
With one last trembling squeeze she dropped the doorknob, retreated back to her cot, and held her head in her hands. It was like she was a kid again. Sulking at the dinner table. Waiting for Mom to tear into the kitchen in a whirlwind of screaming and shouting before she grabbed her by the cheek and sent spittle flying in her face.
Ironically, she couldn’t fully remember what all the yelling had been for. Just that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. All she ever did was wrong.
Saving Pratt wasn’t wrong, a small timid part of her whispered.
The second hand on the clock filled the silence with a soft tick, tick, tick. She considered what the quiet voice in her head had told her. Maybe it was the right thing to do. No, not maybe. She knew it was. But that didn’t stop the fear from turning her limbs to lead and her blood to ice.
Why?
She took a short tentative breath, her lungs unable to expand fully within the confines of her ribs.
Maybe it wasn’t about right and wrong. Maybe it was about disappointment. How, no matter how hard she tried, the people closest to her always managed to find it in her. Like she was a ticking time bomb. Like her next mistake was never a matter of if, but when.
She thought about Joseph. About all the things he’d been keeping from her and how she’d been all too willing to turn a blind eye. Because if she asked the wrong question in the wrong way it might change how he looked at her. It might change how she looked at him. And there wouldn’t be any way to go back to-
Footsteps approached. Immediately from the sound she recognized Jacob’s stomping boots and Joseph’s lighter, slower step. She dug her fingers into her scalp and took one last gulp of air.
The door swung open. She braced herself for the angry barrage of questions, for the shouting. It never came.
Plastic wheels crackled over the gritty floor. Someone was rolling the stool the medic had used back into the room. The door clicked shut. Joseph cleared his throat.
Slowly, tentatively, she raised her head. Jacob stood in front of the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Presumably he was there to cut off her only route of escape. The barest hint of a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Jacob told me what happened.” Her eyes flitted to him at the sound of his voice. For once she couldn’t help but look at him. He was calm, collected, leaning forward on the stool with his elbows resting on his knees. Dark circles - darker than usual - sagged under his eyes making him look about as awful as she felt.
“You let just about everyone else go,” he said. “Whitehorse, Armstrong, Lader, Marshal Burke… Why not him?”
She watched and listened carefully. Searched him for any sign of the jealousy his words implied, but found none. “Same reason I couldn’t leave Hudson with John,” she replied. Despite every atrocious thing she’d ever done, she still had a conscience weighing on her. Didn’t he?
His scars should be proof enough of that. They were both marked by sin. They both carried constant reminders in case they were ever tempted to fall back into old patterns. She didn’t agree with John’s methods, but she could appreciate how carrying Wrath on her chest had changed her.
He blinked. Then a taut frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You know you’ve doomed them both,” he said softly.
“I- what?”
“When the Collapse comes they won’t have anywhere to go. They’ll be burned with the rest of the world.”
She raised a brow and scoffed. “So they should have just stayed put? Just sat there and took their beatings?” She thought about being tied to the chair in John’s bunker. How long would he have kept her down there if she hadn’t fought back? Would Joseph have come for her?
“It would have saved them,” he insisted.
“Is it even fucking worth it at that point?”
“Salvation comes with a cost, Delilah. It always has.”
“Is that what this whole sacrifice thing is about?” she spat the word and rolled her eyes.
“You’re saying the right words, but you lack understanding-”
“And what is it that I’m supposed to understand? What’s up with the cages, Joseph? Why do you keep people locked up like animals? Make it make fucking sense!” Her fists shook where they gripped the edge of the cot.
Joseph didn’t appear to be listening. His eyes glazed over as if he were watching something far, far away. After a tense moment of silence he blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “Jacob, give us a moment.”
Jacob left the room without a word.
Gently, Joseph rolled his right sleeve up to his elbow and traced reverent fingers over the image of his wife. The corners of his eyes crinkled in sorrow. He cleared his throat. “You learned what sin is - from church when you were a child, from John, from me. You’ve seen the awful things it can drive you to do.” He gestured to his chest. “All of us are called to the Cleansing. It’s what enables us to walk the Path. But some of us are called for more.”
Delilah found herself leaning in. “More?” she pressed. “I’m going to need specifics.”
“Look at the story of Abraham,” he began. “He was chosen by God. He and his wife were granted a son at an impossible age. And then God demanded that his miraculously begotten son be given on the altar as a burnt offering.”
She threw up her hands. “Why bother giving him a son at all if he was just going to kill him?”
“To test his faith,” Joseph answered. “Faith is a commitment. It’s a choice you must make over and over again regardless of your circumstances. To walk with God is to walk the Path. No matter the sacrifice he asks.” He clutched his right wrist and ran his hand down the length of his arm as if it ached.
They stared at one another. Him gauging her reaction. Her gauging how well she even knew this man at all.
He was hesitating so she decided to strike first. She gestured to his arm. “Was she your sacrifice?”
“No,” he answered immediately as if he expected the question. “The wreck… I had nothing to do with that. But she was pregnant.”
Delilah stiffened, but waited for him to continue.
“A sheriff showed up at the front door and rushed me to the hospital. I knew as soon as I got in the car… the way he wouldn’t look me in the eye…” He swallowed thickly. “My wife and I… we were young. Not much more than babies ourselves. I was worried about money. I was worried that years down the road I would look in the mirror and see the bitter hollowed out face of my father. But my wife… she had faith that everything would work out.”
“When I got to the hospital they took me to the morgue, then out to a private little waiting room. Nurse handed me this little pink bundle stuffed with tubes. They told me I had to be strong because my little girl was going to live. That God was looking out for our daughter.”
A daughter. There’d never been any mention of a daughter. Not by Whitehorse or Burke, not by his siblings, and not by him.
“Joseph.” She averted her eyes, suddenly sick with dread. Pratt told her everyone had to make a sacrifice. Even the Father had made one. And she was beginning to put the horrible pieces together. “What did you do?” The words fell like lead from her mouth - dull, lifeless, and heavy.
He didn’t answer. Not right away. Delilah stared at him, but struggled to focus. In the course of a few moments he was becoming a stranger to her. It felt like she was atop the statue again with the toes of her sneakers hanging over the ledge as she took in the dizzying distance down to the ground below. There was a long way to fall and nothing to catch her.
He spoke again. Slowly, softly, like he was waiting for the next word to push her over the edge. “They left me alone with her. I was all she had. All she was ever going to have. A nobody from nowhere with nothing. And in that moment I knew… God was testing me.” Grief shone in his eyes and threatened to spill down his cheeks. Yet the rest of his body went rigid with conviction. “He was laying out a path before me and all I had to do was choose.”
“You didn’t,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You fucking didn’t.”
“When Abraham took his son to the altar, he strapped the boy down and made sacrificial preparations. He took out his knife, raised it over his head, and just when he was about to strike, God sent him a ram with its horns all tangled up in a thicket… I prayed with my daughter. Prayed for wisdom, prayed for strength. I heard God’s plan for me, but I waited for that ram.”
There was another pause. Blood roared in her ears as she waited, paralyzed and hanging on to his every word.
“It never came.” He shuddered, then took a slow breath. “So I took my fingers and I put them on that plastic tube that was taped to her angelic face… and I pinched it shut.”
Delilah saw red. The next thing she knew she had Joseph pinned to the wall with one hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing and squeezing until her whole body shook with the effort. Between her screaming obscenities and the sound of the stool crashing to the floor she was faintly aware of Jacob bursting into the room. She managed to get in one good swing.
Not once did he blink or finch at her anger. He merely watched her spiral out of control. Something like resignation flickered across his face. Something like acceptance.
She nailed his left eye. The frames of his glasses buckled and the lens shattered. Shards of glass bit into her knuckles and sunk into the flesh of his eye socket.
Strong arms circled around her waist and hauled her backwards. She kicked and punched anyone and anything within reach. Then she was face down on grimy tiles with a knee driving into her spine and her arms wrenched behind her back. Tears and snot ran down her face, mingling with the dirt and dust on the floor.
Through her blurred vision she watched Joseph heave to catch his breath and cup a hand around his eye. He shook his head. “That’s enough. Let her go.”
As soon as Jacob’s weight vanished she got to her feet and backed into the far corner of the room. She cradled her injured fist and tentatively picked at a piece of yellow glass embedded between her knuckles.
“We need bandages and tweezers,” Joseph said.
But Jacob didn’t seem to hear his brother. He was too busy glaring at Delilah. He worked his jaw as a large vein began to swell on his forehead.
“Now, Jacob.”
Just like that they were alone again. She refused to look at him or the damage she’d done to his eye. He folded up the broken remains of his glasses and tossed them onto the cot. Then he approached her with one hand held out like he was placating a wild, cornered animal.
She let him draw closer, closer, until he brushed her cheek with a trembling hand. Some of his blood smeared against her skin, warm and sticky. She wanted to flinch away, but there was nowhere else to go.
“If I hadn’t chosen the Path, I wouldn’t be here now,” he murmured.
She let her head fall back against the wall and stared over his shoulder, allowing him only to exist in her periphery. Despite that she was still aware of the vibrant red cuts she'd left around his eye. “You should have chosen differently.”
“There would have been no one to save you in that alley behind the bar.”
“Maybe that would have been for the best,” she whispered, trying her best to sound spiteful despite the tears rolling down her face.
“You know that’s not true.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb and pressed a feather-light kiss to her cheek.
She shivered and she couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or revulsion or what it even meant to be forgiven by someone like him.
Before she could find an answer, there were shouts echoing up and down the halls. Then the faint pop of gunfire. Joseph pulled away from her. They both looked at the door. Several shadows flitted by the window, their footsteps heavy as they rushed for the lobby.
Pop, pop, more gunfire. Closer this time.
“Wait here.” Joseph squeezed her shoulder then disappeared out the door.
Delilah waited only a few heartbeats before following suit. She grabbed the doorknob and gave a twist, but it wouldn’t budge. The bastard had locked her in.
She swore under her breath and knocked on the door. More shadows rushed by the window. The trickle of soldiers steadily became a stampede.
“Oh, what the hell,” she grunted and threw her shoulder into the door hard enough to rattle the teeth in her skull. The door shook in its frame, but refused to budge.
A full-on firefight was building outside. She could no longer distinguish between gunfire from the guards atop the walls versus whoever or whatever was attacking them.
At first she wondered if it was Pratt’s doing, but that wasn’t possible. There was no way he could have reached Fall’s End on foot so soon, much less put together a big enough group for a raid. Then again, Fall’s End wasn’t the only pocket of resistance in the whole county. There was the group that had attacked them on the way to the Veterans Center. Jacob had mentioned some of their names, but she couldn’t remember them now.
Through whatever layers of wood, brick, and concrete that separated her from the outside world came the muffled roar of revving engines, the drone of a helicopter, and howling Judges that still managed to make the hair raise on the back of her neck. The stampede of peggies outside the door had all but come to an end.
She tried pounding her fist against the door and shouted for help. Suddenly the ground shook beneath her feet, the fluorescent lights overhead dimmed, and clouds of dust drifted down from the ceiling. She flailed backwards and dove beneath the cot, only just processing the deafening bang of a nearby explosion. A grenade, a missile, she wasn’t sure which.
Next came a faint series of clinks and the hiss of bricks and mortar tumbling away, giving her the eerie feeling that the walls were about to collapse around her any second. Another explosion sounded - this time from the lobby. She stifled a yelp in the crook of her elbow and prayed the floors above wouldn’t come crashing down.
When she dared to peer out from beneath the cot there were tendrils of smoke curling into the room from the gaps around the door. It steadily pooled overhead, circling around the ceiling and dimming the light even further.
With a renewed sense of panic she took a large gulp of air, scrambled back to her feet, and threw herself at the door. Again. Again. Again-
On her last charge the door miraculously swung open. She barreled into the haze of smoke and the large man waiting on the other side.
Jacob caught her with a grunt then roughly shoved her away. With her surprised gasp she took in a lungful of smoke and immediately bent double, coughing and hacking for air.
“What… the hell… is going on?” she demanded between coughs.
“Shut it.” He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck to drag her out into the hall and herded her in front of him.
Delilah glanced over her shoulder to give him a dirty look only to realize blood was pouring down the left side of his face and he had an equally bloody rag held in front of his mouth.
“Keep your head down and hold your breath,” he snapped. Another rough prod to her shoulder forced her forward.
Despite his warnings she couldn’t stop coughing and spluttering. They stumbled down the hall, clipping on chunks of fallen plaster while timbers in the building groaned and shuddered like they were about to give way. She could barely see several feet in front of her between the tears in her eyes and the thick smoke clogging anything and everything.
Suddenly the lights went out. She tripped on her own foot and nearly fell on her face, but Jacob’s solid hold kept her upright. She fumbled in the darkness for a moment until her hand found a wall to guide her.
By now her lungs were burning for air. She fought and fought to hold her breath like Jacob told her to, but the burning need to cough outweighed any common sense. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, or rather the lack of darkness. There was a faint orange glow to the smoke and once she saw it she was aware of the heat at their backs. A fire raged in the lobby behind them.
“Keep going,” he grunted in a way that she almost mistook for encouragement. “Emergency exit is just ahead.”
Sure enough, when they reached the end of the hall there was a battered gray door. She shoved and it swung open with a low groan. Smoke billowed around them, racing its way out through the new opening. It took every last bit of her energy to flail her arms and clear enough of it away to get a breath of fresh air.
Her throat burned and strained with the need to keep coughing, but the need for oxygen was stronger. She sucked in a greedy breath of sweet, fresh air. Too sweet, she realized too late. They’d emerged in a cluster of Bliss barrels. Some of them had been shot clean through. Noxious green fumes poured freely from the bullet holes into the atmosphere.
“Try not to breathe too deeply.”
His warning did not come in time. Between the smoke and the taint of Bliss she was heaving and retching. Before she could take another step, her knees buckled and her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Goddammit,” Jacob’s curse echoed from somewhere far away.
Her world flipped upside down. Something was digging into her stomach. Then she felt the strange tingle of blood pooling in her arms, her head, like cobwebs on her skin. Then there was nothing.
-
Something struck her across the cheek. She heard the slap before she felt the sting.
“Wake up.”
She gasped and lurched forward.
The Bliss. She had to get away from the Bliss.
Pressure tightened around her ribs and yanked her back into the seat. A car seat, she realized a bit belatedly.
Jacob sat next to her. The blood caked to his face appeared black in the early morning light. He handed her a canteen. She took a long, greedy swig and looked out the window. They were in a pickup rumbling along a gravel drive at a steep incline. The faintest orange hues of dawn lit up the horizon.
“Where the hell…” she trailed off when she caught a glimpse of large white letters perched atop a nearby hill.
“John’s Gate,” Jacob answered.
She whipped her head around and looked at the other men in the car. Two peggies sat up front. She didn’t recognize either one. “Where’s Joseph?” she asked, surprised by how small and afraid she sounded.
“They took him,” Jacob said.
“Who?”
“Eli and your sheriff.”
“What do you mean they-”
“They caught up with his convoy. We were in radio contact when it happened. I was going to go after him, but he ordered us to get to John’s Gate because you were unresponsive.”
“Why did you listen?” she shot back.
“Because the Father said you’re family,” he snapped.
That was enough to send her reeling. She opened her mouth, searching for a snarky reply, but had no words.
Flashlights shown in the cab. Two guards appeared on either side of the truck as they rolled to a stop near the security booth. The driver rolled the window down so that Jacob could lean over the front seat and have a word. When they were clear for entry, they pulled the truck further up the hill and parked on the concrete pad in front of the entrance.
Delilah nervously eyed their surroundings. It was a lot cleaner after the last time she’d been here. All the supply crates were gone - packed away in the bunker itself, she assumed. “Why are we here? Why not your bunker?”
“Escape route was cut off. And they took Joseph to Fall’s End. Get out, we’re heading inside.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt with a wince at her sore shoulders. The two guards got out and opened the doors for them. At the entrance, Jacob paused and dug around in his pocket. He pulled out a key and slotted it in the door. It swung open with a soft creak.
Inside was pitch black. The cool air still held the tang of disinfectant. They descended the grated stairs in single file until the entryway opened up into what was now a large storage room. It was all faintly lit by a single lantern atop a crate. John was seated nearby in a wheelchair, looking like a tattered ghost with half his pale face covered in thick gauze. Several Chosen lingered by his side.
“Deputy!” He grinned as she tentatively stepped out from behind Jacob. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Long time, no see.”