“It’s all right,” he said, backing off with his hands up to reassure me. “Don’t be afraid.”
He took a step closer and held out his hand. I regarded it warily for a moment and then reached out to take it.
“Rough place to sleep,” he said as he pulled me up. I shrugged and kept my eyes on the ground. “There’s a little time before services still. Why don’t you come in?”
Radcliffe threw aside the tent flap and I peered inside.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s all right.”
I stepped through the tent flap, moving hesitantly like I expected someone to come along and strike me at any moment. Radcliffe followed and let the opening fall back into place. There were already a few lanterns burning, filling the Lighthouse with an amber glow. He set his copy of The Glorious Path on the altar and said a prayer.
The place had changed since I’d been there just the night before. A stage had been built beneath the altar, raising it high above several added rows of pews. Racks of folding chairs sat in one corner, ready to be placed behind them. When they were, I guessed the Lighthouse would hold a hundred more people than usual.
“Is there something going on tonight?”
Radcliffe looked over his shoulder. “Oh. Yes. There’s a… special service. I’m sorry to say that very few novices will be invited.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I can go if you need to—”
“No. Please. How can I help you, ah…”
“James,” I said.
“There’s no need to be afraid, James. Sit down. Please.”
I took a seat in the second row of pews, and Radcliffe sat in front of me. He was a kindly enough looking man, plump, and bald on top with a weathered face. I looked up at a brand-new Glorious Path symbol hanging over the altar. The old one had been brass and aluminum. This one’s gold and silver curves gleamed in the lantern light.
“Couldn’t you sleep in the barracks?”
I kept my eyes on the altar and made my voice far away and dreamy. “It was fine, I just — I guess I felt… drawn here.”
The beacon smiled. “Yes. I feel like that too,” he said. “I used to be an accountant. Can you believe that? I sat at a desk all day long, looking at pages of numbers and fiddling with a computer. Now I never want to be more than ten feet from this place.” Radcliffe looked down at my cast and my old bruises. “You were badly hurt when we found you. Sick too.”
I nodded, cradling my broken wrist and wincing as I did it.
“What happened?”
“There was a battle,” I said. “Not far from where I lived. After it was over, there were so many injured people but there was only one doctor. He used to work for my dad, so I got this cast, but everyone else… they waited for more doctors to come, from the Army or the government, I guess, but no one did.”
Radcliffe shook his head. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
I stared at the floor and answered him with silence.
“Why did you come here, James?”
My head throbbed at the sound of the name. Why had I chosen it? “Some of the other men said they had to make a… a…”
“A choice.”
“Yes. They said when it came time for me to do it, I should just tell you whatever you wanted to hear because you’d hurt me if I didn’t.”
“And do you think that’s true? Do you think that’s how it works?”
I raised my shoulders weakly. “The doctors told me I might have died if you hadn’t been there to save me.”
“Well, I’m glad we could be, then,” he said. “There are a lot of rumors about the Choice. But do you know what it really is?”
I shook my head, and Beacon Radcliffe turned toward me on his pew.
“We believe there is a light inside all of us that comes from God. The Choice is simply you committing yourself to following the path that it illuminates.”
“How do I… ?”
Beacon Radcliffe returned to the altar for his copy of The Glorious Path. He kissed its cover and whispered a prayer before opening it in his lap.
“All you have to do is repeat after me.”
Radcliffe read from the book, and I repeated all he said back to him, making sure to fill the words with all of the cautious reverence I could muster. As I spoke, I felt a strange doubling inside me, like past and present were synching together.
When I was done, Beacon Radcliffe smiled warmly and I returned his smile in kind. He said I should go get something to eat before duty but that I’d be welcome in his Lighthouse anytime. He left me then, returning to his book and his altar.
I stayed in my pew, staring up at the Path symbol. “I am the Way and the Path,” I said, full of devotion, and just loud enough for Radcliffe to hear. When he turned back to me I left my pew and headed up the aisle.
“Wait!”
I froze in place, making sure to erase my smile before I turned back.
“The service tonight,” he said. “I think perhaps we can make an exception. Be here at seven.”
After morning mess and prayers, Corporal Connors led us up the hill to the site of our newly dug pit and set us to building the latrine structure around it. On one trip across the hill to fetch a bucket of nails, I found myself looking down at the Lighthouse.
Thirty or forty soldiers had surrounded it, followed close behind by several horse-drawn wagons. As soon as the wagons were parked, the soldiers threw themselves into the task of unloading them. More canvas. More folding chairs. The walls of the Lighthouse were taken down and half the soldiers set about expanding it to nearly twice its size.
Even though no announcement had been made, everyone knew something big was happening. An electric tension jumped from person to person in the camp.
Was Nat watching the preparations too? Or was she serving meals and tending to the sick with the vest strapped under her robe, sweating beneath the weight of the explosives? Was there any part of her that wished she’d be caught and stopped before she could step into the Lighthouse and press that trigger?
I worked the rest of the day in a dream, floating from one assignment to the next. It felt like barely any time had passed before the sun began to sink into the trees and Corporal Connors led us off the hill and down to the barracks.
The Lighthouse towered in front of me. The flaps were drawn back, and inside I could see the ranks of chairs, split by a razor-sharp aisle that led to the raised altar. The Path insignia glowed in the candlelight. I shuddered and imagined Nat standing before it in her white robes, her finger falling on the trigger, felt the breathless moment before the detonation.
“Okay, everybody. Showers. Let’s go.”
The men around me moved with a weary groan, but I was distracted by a flash of white as a group of companions moved across the camp. They were heading toward the soldiers’ barracks, and as they passed a wooded rise near the outer fence, one companion drifted away from the group unnoticed. As the rest continued on, she climbed the hill and disappeared among the trees.
“Hey. Kid. Let’s move.”
“I… I’m having a hard time, sir,” I said, looking up at Corporal Connors, with one hand clutching my middle. “I’m wondering if I might run to the med tent.”
“We got a schedule kicking into high gear here.”
“I know, sir. I won’t miss anything. I’m on Path, I promise.”
Connors considered a moment, then waved me away. I moved slowly until he got the men into the barracks and then I skated around behind the med tent and climbed the hill.
The trees at the top were few but thick and gave a small umbrella of shade. I crossed into the shadowed ground, and Nat turned at my footsteps. She was still in her companion’s whites. The backpack lay at her feet.