“Been thinking a lot about you lately, Evelyn. About how I never gave you the community you deserved or the family you needed. Now that the world’s gone to shit, all I hope is that you’ll someday find one of your own.”
–Marquise Jones, “Unnamed”. 4 Months After.
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“Are we there yet?” Eva asked.
Dad chuckled. “Evelyn, does it look like we there yet?”
She stared blankly at her father, along with his thick pair of glasses and paper-thin mustache that could’ve been scribbled onto his upper lip. He glanced into the rear-view mirror and grinned a mouth of teeth so white they seemed to glow on their own.
She grimaced. “I told you, all my friends call me Eva. Not Evelyn. I hate having an old white lady name.”
“I’ll have you know, Evelyn, that this ‘old white lady’ name came from your grandmother, and she was one fierce woman. Don’t you forget where you come from.”
Whatever. Eva pressed her head against the window in silence. Punk music blared into the one earbud she had on.
The countryside rolled by as their car shot down the highway, with nothing but cornfield after cornfield after cornfield to show for it.
This state was the worst. Eva missed living in Detroit, back when Dad didn’t have to travel so much and she got to keep her real friends. But then he got promoted to “business consultant,” and they never could stay anywhere for more than a few months. It turned out that Marquise Jones was the fixer everyone wanted around the block now, so Nebraska became the latest in a long line of lame, boring crapholes that the two of them got dragged to.
If only Dad could give it up. Find somewhere for them to settle down until Eva got through middle school. Or at least let her stay with one of her friends while he ran off to do some work stuff. It wasn’t like he was around for her anyway!
The car slowed to a stop, just by another cornfield. There was a church… Or maybe a barn. The place was tiny. Barely two stories tall, with walls that could’ve been made from sand, and a first floor so low to the ground, it was practically sinking. The steeple wasn’t even over the middle where it belonged. It sat on top of a door to the side like the whole thing would’ve fallen apart if it’d been put on the roof. I’ve seen bums living in nicer holes than this.
“Why we gotta do this, Dad?” Eva asked. “I wanna go home.”
He tapped his glasses in place. “Pastor Robinson done good by letting us stay in a place near town. We owe it to these folks for being so hospitable.”
“That all?” Eva asked. “I seen the way you look at his sister.”
“Girl, what I tell you about saying things like that!? You’re too young to be meddling in adult affairs.”
“She sure looked like she wanted you to do some meddling.” She blew him a kiss.
Dad looked like he’d been choked. “Lemme tell you what. A ten-year-old girl ain’t old enough to be concerning themselves with their parent’s love life. I swear, you’re lucky we’re next to God’s house now, or I’d smack you silly for the disrespect…” He trailed off, his face a shade darker as he muttered more threats about what he’d do the next time she stepped out of line.
Eva grinned. Dad loved playing the tough guy who could still hustle with the best, but he’d given up that life a long time ago. Now, he was just some office nerd who’d fall over himself against the slightest attack. For all his tough talk and all the times Eva had poked fun at him, he’d never once raised a finger her way.
It was nice. A fun little game for just the two of them to play when they were alone.
They got out the car and went for the door, with Dad still mumbling about his rude little girl. He kept it going all the way to the door, then slipped back into his salesman’s charm the moment he saw the Pastor. Of course, he thanked him for everything from there. About the apartment they’d been given, and the invitation to their church, and the delicious food his sister brought over, and the help he’d gotten in watching his troublesome daughter. On and on Marquise Jones went, his words like honey as he wooed his next client.
Eva rolled her eyes. She’d seen enough of Dad’s work talk to know how it went. With a yawn, she strolled through the door to find a seat.
Only to realize just how out of place they were. From back to front, a bunch of white folks filled the pews, their eyes forward as they waited for the sermon to start. Eva scanned from side to side, but there was no denying the truth.
Not a single brown girl here, other than her.
Great. This was one of those neighborhoods. Eva had a feeling everyone would be staring at her sideways the moment they realized she’d come. That’s how things were back in Texas, and these folks looked the same as them down there.
Dad filed in with the Pastor soon enough and nudged Eva to the center of the aisle where there was room. She kept her eyes fixed in front, feeling the weight of everyone on her. With a sigh, she put her earbuds away before Dad could bitch her out over that too.
Pastor Robinson hobbled to the front, his eyebrows like two caterpillars as he blinked at the lectern.
“Ahem,” he started, clearing his throat. “It is good to see y’all here today on this fine Sunday, but before we begin, I’d like to introduce two fine folks who are gonna be staying in our sweet little town for the next few months.” He pointed. “Marquise Jones and his beautiful daughter, Evelyn.”
Dad grinned and waved. Eva slunk lower in her seat. She really didn’t want all this attention.
Pastor Robinson laughed. “Anyway, let’s show these fine folks what our community’s got in the name of good ‘ole fashion faith. Shall we?” He launched into his sermon.
For a while, Eva kept her eyes on the Bible in front. She somehow knew that if she looked around, someone would be watching her, then they’d give her the stink eye, and she’d spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Moment by moment, she stayed locked in place, too afraid to stare anywhere else.
But then boredom got the better of her, and she started studying the roof. Then the windows. Then she fell into the pews itself. Where an old lady glared back at her.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Except that her hard, wrinkled face softened into a smile when they made eye contact. Warm and inviting. She waved.
Eva smiled sheepishly back, not sure what else to do.
Her eyes fell somewhere else without thinking, this time onto a big, fat man with a trucker’s hat and a beard down to his waist. He heaved deep and turned her way, his mouth bent into a grimace. But as soon as he saw her looking, his cheeks lit up, and his lips formed a tender grin. Like he was the happiest man in the world to see her.
On and on, Eva looked around the church. Everywhere she looked, friendly faces beamed back.
These weren’t like the people in Texas. They were calm. They were nice. When it came time to sing a prayer, several of them came over to help Eva, pointing out the words on the page while they helped her stand up tall.
She’d never seen folks so cozy and polite before. Back when she was a girl in Detroit, she never looked no one in the eye. Not unless she wanted to start a problem.
But here was different. The people in this small, Nebraskan town wanted nothing but to give her a home. A place she belonged. By the end of the day, Eva wished they never had to leave this church.
She’d finally found her family.
* * *
Evelyn studied the Beholder camp, her head on a swivel.
A dozen Inquisitors kept watch along with the main road. Long-barrel rifles drawn. Crossbows in some places, repeater ballistas in others. Guards frisked whoever entered. With the way everyone was talking, it seemed like they’d gotten jittery after Ezekiel made his move. The Beholders even had a token M2 Browning set up around a makeshift fortification of cinder blocks in addition to the ballistas.
Though for what that was worth, these weapons wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference if Charon decided to mobilize Pandemonium’s arsenal against them. Their only real chance stood from the sheer weight of numbers, and one glance inside showed just how many were willing to fight for this valley they’d claimed. A militia of white cloaks hung near the entrance, tools in hand. Or weapons, depending on how they got used.
Evelyn cleared their main gate alright. The Inquisitors frisked her on arrival. Wasn’t their best work. They missed the Sig, its suppressor, and her knife to boot. It got dicey when they had her remove the sunglasses and headdress, but Evelyn’s flair did wonders.
She looked like any other rezzer now, from the peeling skin down to those bright, red eyes.
Now, she was in the camp itself. Damn, did they build this place up something fierce. Set in the shadow of Beverly Hills, the valley was surrounded by palisade walls on three fronts, and an impassible cliff to the north. Spikes protruded out from the palisades, with guards patrolling the rim. No one could get in and out without their say.
Tents were strewn about everywhere, their fabric coated white like pure mountain snow. More of their militia kept watch.
Their tech seemed to be trapped in the medieval, at least. Tailors spinning cloaks, blacksmiths forging tools, farmers wrangling cattle, lumberjacks breaking down logs, stonecutters forming bricks.
But then every so often, Evelyn would happen upon an anachronism. The mechanical printing press stood out first. Dozens were slaving away against levers to crank out what could’ve been hundreds of pages of literature an hour. More stood nearby to bind the product into fresh copies of the Holy Word with cured leather.
There was more. Evelyn caught sight of a steam-powered lathe in one workshop and what could’ve been surmised as a chemistry lab in another. Couldn’t make out more than that. Not while keeping with the pack of outsiders.
The group of “potential congregants” were guided onward. Mostly workers, but a few Styx security had worked their way into the mix. All came for the same reason: to see Father Abraham speak. He was the big shot here, after all. With only her brief encounter as a reference, she had a feeling that many more would flock to Abraham if left alone.
The polymer grip of her Sig brushed against Evelyn’s ankle where she’d smuggled it in.
They drew near the main tent. The “tabernacle,” Evelyn had overheard. The whole thing might’ve covered half an acre of land. It was huge. Pillars thick as stumps jutted from the ground, holding the fabric in place like the masts of warships propping up a dozen sails sewn together. Though braziers burned inside, the smoke didn’t collect because of all the open space. How could they have been able to move this juggernaut?
And in the center, a crowd of white-cloaked Beholders set themselves up. All knelt down in prayer as they waited for the sermon to begin. While the Pandemonium rezzers clung to the back in a disorganized cluster, the congregants formed neat, even lines, like an army ready to mobilize. It wasn’t lost on Evelyn that more Inquisitors lined the rim, eyeing her people as much as their own.
Finally, the event began. A group of Friars marched through first, humming in unison as they formed a line. The Beholders prostrated themselves in front.
Then she saw her target. Father Abraham marched into the open, his face as calm and serene as when they’d first met, and magenta eyes that reflected the light of the braziers. He approached the lectern with a copy of the Holy Word in hand.
“Welcome, my children,” Abraham said with a gleam. He peered into the back of the tabernacle. “I see we have many new faces in here today. Come on, everyone. Make sure these folks can see that they belong.” He waved a hand. “Disperse. Give ‘em room. The Word isn’t just reserved for you.”
The Beholders obeyed without question while the rezzers looked from one to another.
Abraham grinned. “Now, now. Don’t be shy! As much as I’m used to yelling to get His message through, there ain’t no reason to do that with an audience this small. Go on, do me this favor, and come on in!” He laughed. “I can promise you that I don’t bite.”
The other Beholders burst out in laughter with him, almost in unison.
There was a moment of awkward quiet where the guests stood and stared, unsure what to do next. But then a child-sized rezzer scampered forth and found a seat, and the rest trickled in behind, one by one. Evelyn shifted through the middle of the crowd, neither moving first nor lagging too far behind. It wouldn’t do to stand out.
A pair of Beholders smiled politely, but Evelyn didn’t give them more than a cursory glance. The way she figured it, only so much time would pass before her makeup would start to run from sweat. She needed as few eyes on her as possible. Though some good news came from this. Rezzers were cold-blooded by nature, so this crowd wasn’t about to turn this tent into a furnace. Bad news for her was that the sun and braziers were doing that on their own.
“There we go,” Abraham said, now quieter with everyone close. He paced a couple steps back and forth, as if he’d forgotten why he’d come. “I want to talk about something dear to me today. Community. You see, for those just walking in, and heck, even those who’ve been here since the beginning, you might think that this is all we’ve ever had.
“But you’d be wrong. Building our community didn’t happen in a day, or a week, or even a month. It took years of hard work. Just as the Israelites wandered the desert for fourty years, so too were we lost before we were saved.”
He paused. “‘This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ For those new around these parts, that is a command, given to us by the Lord above. Not one of selfishness and hatred but of our everlasting one for each other. For the community that we may form…”
Abraham went on from there. About the nature of community, and love, and valuing each other over oneself. He pulled lessons from all over the Bible and weaved them together, his voice sweet as syrup as it flowed through the crowd. It wasn’t long before the entire room was mesmerized by him, Evelyn included.
She blinked back tears. Like stepping outside time, she could almost close her eyes and be back there herself. Back in that small town in Nebraska. Back in the other church in Colorado after, and the one in Milwaukee after that. The voice and the other people might’ve been different, but their wisdom was always the same. A new venue, but the same family. The one she’d never had for herself.
And for a moment, just a moment, Evelyn could almost see her father by her side again.