He didn't sound eloquent or forceful or confident to Rayford. It was as if all he was trying to accomplish was getting the basics down and having some idea what he was talking about. He also looked miserable, and Rayford wanted to counsel him again on where he stood with God, but he didn't feel qualified to make Chaim feel better about himself. Chaim apparently didn't see Tsion as a personal mentor but only as a teacher and tireless motivator.
It struck Rayford that they all had had to endure the same doubts and fears when first they became believers. They had missed the truth, then feared they had come to God only as a last-ditch effort to avoid hell. Was it valid? The Bible said they were new creatures, that old things had passed away and all had become new. Rayford had worked hard to accept for himself the truth that God now saw him, in essence, through his sinless Son, the Christ.
But it had been almost impossible. He was new inside, yes. From a spiritual standpoint he knew it was true. But in many ways he struggled with his same old self. And while God's truth about him should have carried more weight than his finite emotions, they were loudly at the forefront of his conscience every day. Who was he to tell Chaim Rosenzweig to just have faith and trust that God knew him and understood him better than Chaim himself ever could?
But if there was someone who seemed healthier more quickly than most, it was Hattie. The irony of that was not lost on Rayford. Fewer than twenty-four hours before she became a believer, she was suicidal. Months before, she had admitted to any Trib Force member who had the endurance to debate her that she understood and believed the whole truth about the salvation gospel of Christ. She simply had decided, on her own, to willfully reject it because, even if God didn't seem to care that she didn't deserve it, she did care. She was saying, in effect, that God could offer her the forgiveness of her sins without qualification, but she didn't have to accept it.
But once she finally received the gift, her mere persistence was wearing. In many ways she was the same forthright woman she had been before, nearly as obnoxious as a new believer as she had been as a holdout. But of course, everyone was happy she was finally on the team.
Chaim, if Rayford could judge by facial expressions, was at least bemused by her. He was the next newest believer, so perhaps he identified with her. Yet Chaim was not responding as she was at all. Was it healthy envy that made him seem intrigued with her patter? Did he wonder why he hadn't been bestowed with such abandonment with his commitment to the truth?
Rayford didn't want to get ahead of himself, didn't want to take too literally Tsion's compliments about his return to effective leadership. But sometimes the surprise move, the one against the groove, was effective. Should he-dare he-conspire with Hattie to get her to see if she could jostle Dr. Rosenzweig off of square one? Tsion had become convinced that Chaim was God's man for this time, and Rayford had learned to trust the rabbi's intuition. But Chaim was going to have to progress a long way in a short time if he was to become the vessel Tsion envisioned.
Hattie had fed and was changing Kenny when Rayford approached her. What a bonus for Kenny that he had so many parent figures! The men doted on him, and even Zeke, though slightly intimidated, was extremely gentle and loving toward him. The women seemed intuitively to know when to spell each other, mothering him, but of course, most of the responsibility fell to Chloe.
"Have a minute?" Rayford asked Hattie as she lay the freshly powdered and dressed boy over her shoulder and sat rocking him.
"If this guy is drowsy, I've got all the time in the world, which-according to our favorite rabbi-is slightly less than three and a half years."
Hattie isn't as funny as she sees herself, Rayford thought, but there is something to be said for consistency.
"Could I get you to do me a favor?" Rayford said.
"Anything."
"Don't be too quick to say that, Hattie."
"I mean it. Anything. If it helps you, I'll do it."
"Well, if you succeed, it helps the cause."
"Say no more. I'm there."
"It has to do with Chaim."
"Isn't he the best?"
"He's great, Hattie. But he needs something Tsion and I don't seem to be able to give him."
"Rayford! He's twice my age!"
So as not to draw suspicion, Buck suggested he and Albie get a head start on the next group by heading directly to the building immediately east of the processing center. This housed the lesser criminals, according to the organizing officer. Yet he had also said that the religious dissidents were in with the worst felons in the easternmost facility.
The two approached the guards at Building 4. "Ready for us?" one said with a Cockney lilt.
"Soon," Buck said. "You're next."
"Heard whooping and hollering. Somebody choose the blade?"
Buck nodded but tried to make it clear he didn't want to talk about it.
"More'n one?" the man added. Buck nodded again. "Wasn't pretty."
"Yeah? Wish I'd seen it. Never saw somebody buy it before. You watched, eh?"
"Told you it wasn't pretty. How would I know otherwise?"
"Sorry I'm just askin'. How many you see then?"
"Just the one."
"But there were more? How about you, Commander? You stay for the whole show?"
"Leave it alone, Corporal," Albie snapped. "Several women chose it and showed more bravery than any man I ever saw."
"That right, is it? But they wasn't loyal to the potentate now then, was they?"
"They stood by their convictions," Albie said.
"Convictions and sentences, sounds like to me, mate."
"Would you choose to die if you felt that deeply?"
"I do feel that deeply, gents. Only I'm on the other side of it now, ain't I? I choose what makes sense. Man rises from the dead-he's got my vote."
The armed guards led the somber survivors back to the women's building while Athenas's crew caught up to Buck and Albie. Buck noticed that Alex's people seemed as subdued as the women prisoners. But their guards seemed energized.
"Let's get this done," Athenas said, leading the way in.
These were clearly white-collar criminals or small-timers. No bravado, no threats, little noise at all. They listened, no one opted for the guillotine, and they filed out quietly to be processed. Buck was repulsed at the smell of blood that hung in the center. Word quietly spread throughout the men that several women had been beheaded in that very room, and the men grew even quieter. The workers assigned to the guillotine seemed relieved to have a break.
Buck watched the process, despairing at the masses who ignorantly sealed their fate. The workers had grown smooth with experience, and the operation went faster and faster. Line up, decide, swab, sit, inject, back in line, file out. Ironically, real life bloomed at the point of bloody death. Men receiving what looked like an innocuous mark they thought kept them alive sealed their real death sentences. From death, life. From life, death.
Buck was eager to meet Pastor Demeter, about whom Rayford had said so much. Yet he dreaded the confrontation with the worst of the worst criminals in Building 5, knowing that many believing men would choose the right but ugly fate.
His phone vibrated. The readout said, "Top priority. Rendezvous at Kozani no earlier than 0100 hours with GC penal officer reassigned from Buffer to USNA. Urgent. Her papers will specify destination. Late twenties, dark hair, Ming Toy. Sealed."
"We'll have company tonight," Buck told Albie. "It will be refreshing to have a sister aboard who won't remind me of this place every time I look at her."
"I understand," Albie said. "I could have lived a lifetime without having seen this and not felt I missed a thing."
It was late afternoon at the safe house, and everyone was busy except Rayford. Zeke was sewing. Tsion writing. Chloe working on the computer. Leah copying. Chaim cramming. Kenny sleeping. And Hattie, with a wink to Rayford, approaching Chaim.