Darla unzipped her tent opening and emerged like some mud-spider opening up its lair, making itself vulnerable to the predators outside or preparing to pounce on its prey. She felt like the former. “I’m sorry, who are you?” She knelt halfway out of the tent, attempting to straighten the mess of tangles that made up her hair and the larger mess of her thoughts still groggy from sleep.
“You have been granted the honor of an audience with the Teacher,” said a man whose face was so pale, in the light of the moon and the auroras above, he looked like a ghost. This image sent shivers through her body, which was hot and sticky from the swamp-like air in their tent. “He would like to talk to you about your place in this community. Not everyone is granted this honor, Ms. King, so I would recommend you not keep him waiting.” The man finished, his arms folded and his face impatient as if he was put out by her lack of excitement—or was it boredom from performing this duty? Darla couldn’t tell.
“Hang on, let me put on some clothes,” she replied. Without waiting for permission, she loudly zipped the tent flap in one quick motion, and proceeded to put on her shorts and change her shirt. She looked at Danny, expecting some comment from him, but he slept through this, being deep in REM sleep as he was. “At least one of us will sleep well tonight,” she said upon exiting, this time zipping the tent a little more quietly.
She was ushered through the throngs of people settled in everywhere and finally to the largest house in the small neighborhood of houses. She could see as she approached a multitude who sat or lay prone on the front lawn of the stately home, some sleeping, bodies intertwined in any case, most awake, waiting for what she didn’t know.
There was an electric murmur in the air as she and John, the palest man on the planet, walked by. They were praying. Another shiver took control of her body as she also understood that their prayers were probably for the man she was about to see. Fear started to wrap its spindly fingers around her mind, and wouldn’t let go. Why me? Did I do something wrong? All these people would have loved to meet with this Teacher-guy and yet I’m the one they fetched in the middle of the night? Cold crept outward from her gut.
They walked through a front door that seemed to open by itself from the inside, as if the house were expecting them. Once in, they began their ascent of its grand staircase. The entryway and candlelit living area were empty but for a couple of people wearing the same olive drab shirts and GA arm bands like John. They stared at her as she trudged upward with her escort. She was now shivering. Tripping on a step, Darla quickly corrected and regarded a young woman a few steps above, being led downstairs by another man with the same uniform. She looked upset, wiping tears from her eyes. When their paths crossed, Darla’s and the woman’s eyes locked and fear passed between them. That look screamed “Be very careful!”
Darla felt as if she were in a dream-like state, for in what seemed another instant, she was seated, alone with the Teacher. She was light-headed, like the time some of her friends in high school had persuaded her to try pot and she got so dizzy she fell and smashed open her head, earning her five stitches and the ire of her parents. She willed herself to stay alert to the Teacher in this smoky, candlelit room. Please don’t pass out, she told herself, struggling to focus on this man. With a jolt she realized, just then, she was in his bedroom. Her chair was facing his bed and he was in an arm chair at the bed’s foot, facing her. He was wearing garish silk pajamas, his legs casually crossed, a vision of a young Hugh Hefner—like on that dumb cable show, The Girls Next Door—without the pipe and naked nubile women about. He looked at her, relaxed, waiting, as if he had posed a question and was expecting her answer.
“Sorry, wha-what did you ask?”
He stood and poured wine into her glass. She almost dropped it, unaware until then that she even held one. Was the wine drugged?
“You were telling me about your family, Bill, Lisa, and Sally, and how you were separated,” he said, standing beside her.
She looked up and replied, “I was?” The hand holding the glass began releasing its grip.
He grabbed her hand, startling her back to this foggy reality, and held her glass and hand steady.
“Why am I here?” she said as she pushed up from her chair, letting go of his hand and her glass, almost falling over. Her legs were like gelatin, undulating, almost too weak to support her weight. She braced herself on the arm of her chair.
“Sit! We were just getting to know each other.” He set his glass down and grabbed her arm, supporting her again. “Is your mother as beautiful as you?”
She could smell sour wine on his warm breath. She had to get out before something awful happened.
He now held both her arms and stared into her eyes.
During her freshman year, her anorexic roommate had taught her how to regurgitate her food in an instant—some sort of mind-over-matter thing that she mastered. It had come in handy once when a blind date attempted to rape her…
His face moved in closer to hers.
She thought of the most disgusting thing she could ever imagine. Right now, that was biting into and eating a rat.
He started kissing her lips.
She vomited the spiked wine, the beef stroganoff MRE dinner from an hour ago, even the green licorice treats Danny and she had enjoyed hours before dinner.
He pushed back, almost knocking her over, spitting and wiping his eyes and face. “Franklin!” he yelled. “Franklin, get in here!”
The door burst open and in rushed another GA uniformed man, a rifle slung over his shoulder, ready to use.
“Take this volunteer back to her tent. In the morning, she will join the rest of our recruits. Make sure she remembers her commitment to us.”
Franklin grabbed Darla’s arm and practically carried her out of the room. On the way to the stairs, they passed a pretty, red-headed young woman wearing a negligée, whose face and posture said something different than her clothing. Darla stopped, Franklin’s grip loosening, turned and slurred to the back of the woman’s springy-curls, “Don’ drink th’wine, it drugged.”
Franklin tugged on her arm roughly and she left the same way she came in. Although her head was still a little foggy, she was no longer unsure of her next actions. She was grabbing Danny and they were leaving immediately.
Of course, that didn’t happen. They had already taken Danny and told her that it was for his own good, and hers. They had a nurse watching him to make sure he didn’t have any further asthma attacks. The threat was overt enough, and so she became one of God’s Army, armband and all. It wasn’t until almost twenty days later that they allowed her to see him. They had long since started their southward procession along the Illinois River, with their plan to head west to some yet-to-be-specified place. The Teacher, as everyone called him, this charismatic preacher on whom she had tossed so many cookies almost a month ago, told them all in a speech that God would protect them on their journey and others would give them what they wanted until they reached their final destination, a place that God would reveal to him in the fullness of time. Whatever that meant.
Until then, she could see Danny was being cared for, they were being fed, the Teacher never made any more unwanted passes, and they were certainly much better off than many of the people and communities they came upon.
Mostly they walked, and always Darla walked with her “buddy” Joselin. This choice wasn’t hers either, but if she had to be buddied up with someone, Joselin wasn’t bad. She was an odd mix of races, an “Italian-African American-Indian” as she would tell anyone who asked. Unfortunately for her, she had been cursed with her father’s pear-shaped body and beefy legs, her momma’s skinny chest, and her grandfather’s bulbous nose. Still, she had an infectious laugh that no one could resist. When Darla tried to not join in, Joselin would tell her, “Darla, you know better, resistance is futile,” quoting from their favorite show, Star Trek. After so many days on the road, they were fast becoming good friends in spite of Joselin’s absolute dedication to the Teacher. Because of that Darla was careful of what she said, never giving Joselin her complete trust. Darla also never forgot her ultimate goal of breaking free of the Teacher with Danny, when the time was right.