Eden West (8 page)

“Why? I didn’t
do
anything!”

“You attacked Brother Will.”

“He was laughing at me.”

“He meant nothing by it. He is badly injured. Brother Samuel says he has torn the tendons in his knee.”

Tobias puffs furiously on his cigarette. The glowing tip is quite long. After a time, he speaks.

“So I just say I’m sorry? And they’ll let me out?”

“That is my hope.”

“And what if I run to the cops and tell them you guys locked me up?”

“The police are of the World. Nodd is of the Lord.”

Tobias snorts dismissively. “In Colorado Springs, they never said nothing about locking people up or everybody dressing the same. They were all, like, love and peace and nature.” He draws again on his cigarette. “I should’ve known this place was bogus. I mean, the church was in a mini-mall, between a Chinese restaurant and a dry cleaner. Used to be a donut shop, but they closed ’cause of the dry-cleaning smell.”

“What church?”

“Grace Ministries. It was the most rinky-dink operation you can imagine. I couldn’t believe my mom was taking it serious.”

I am surprised by this. I imagined our ministries as being large, beautiful buildings, like the Hall of Enoch.

“One-Eye — Father Grace — he wasn’t all scary, like he is here. He had on regular clothes, and a patch over his eye, and his hair was tied back, and he kept talking about Nodd as a sanctuary, like he was a salesman for some exclusive resort. He was like, ‘Come to Nodd, live off the land in peace and security, and all your problems will go away.’

“My mom was totally into it. I figured it was just one of her phases, you know? She used to be all into this Jesus Saves church, and before that it was Scientology. I guess Kari getting knocked up pushed Mom over the edge. Me getting thrown in jail didn’t help, either.”

“You were imprisoned?”

“Just for a couple days. It was no big deal. I borrowed a car from some guy and he called the cops. Anyway, when my mom started talking seriously about coming here, I looked up the Grace online. There are congressmen and stuff investigating. They say you’re a cult.”

“We are not a cult.”

“Whatever. I just want to get out of here.”

I do not know if he means he wants out of the Pit, or out of Nodd. I fear to ask.

“I am sorry you are troubled,” I say. I hear a sound and look behind me. I see the dark shape of someone walking from Menshome to the lavatory. Probably Brother Benedict, whose bladder is weak. I lower my voice further and whisper, “Even if you do not truly regret your sins, you must repent, or it will go poorly for you.”

“Okay! All right already!”

“Hush. Brother Benedict is up and about.”

We wait in silence for Brother Benedict to leave the lavatory and return to Menshome. I am trying to understand how I have come to risk being caught talking to Tobias, bringing him cigarettes, and suggesting that he bear false witness to Brother Enos. This Worldly boy, filled with anger and sin, has done me no great service, yet I feel responsible. Perhaps it is that when think of him, I am able to push aside the dull ache that threatens to consume me when I think of Ruth, and the other, sharper pangs brought on by thinking of Lynna.

“You still there?” Tobias whispers.

“I am.” I hear anger in my voice.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” It is not his fault that I have sinned. “Benedict is returning to Menshome. I will wait a few minutes for him to settle, then I must go.”

The lighter sparks, and he sets fire to another cigarette.

The next several days are busy. I am put to work harvesting sorghum, separating the seed heads, fodder for our milk cows, from the stalks, which we press for syrup and molasses. Sorghum is our main source of sweetener. I am accustomed to the earthy flavor, although I much prefer wild honey. Last year Brother Taylor discovered a large beehive in a lightning-blasted cottonwood, and for months afterward we had honey. I always watch now for bees and note the direction they take. I believe there is a hive somewhere on the Spine, but I have yet to find it.

I think of Tobias often. The day after he was placed in the Pit, the Brothers talked of little else. But as the days pass, as Brother Will’s wounds heal, the drama of that violent morning fades from memory. By the time a week has passed, the Brothers act as if Tobias does not exist. Still, I cannot forget that he is there, and I keep thinking about the scars above Brother Von’s dead eyes.

On Manday night I cannot sleep. I once again creep out of Menshome and visit the Praying Pit.

As I near the Tower, I hear a man’s voice. I stop, holding my breath. The voice is coming from inside the Pit. I listen carefully. It sounds like Father Grace, but thinner, without the power he brings to his words. I walk softly to the base of the Tower, get down on my hands and knees, and crawl to the window.

It is definitely Father Grace’s voice, but I sense that it is not Father Grace himself. It is a recording of one of his sermons. I hear another sound as well. Snoring. I press my face against the bars and attempt to look inside, but the darkness is utter and impenetrable.

“Tobias!” I whisper. The snoring continues. I find a small stone and toss it toward the sound. I hear a sudden snort, then sounds of movement. “Tobias!” I say again.

A few seconds later, pale fingers grasp the bars and I can see the smear of his face.

“Jacob?”

I am vastly relieved to hear his voice.

“Yes, it is me. Are you well?”

“I’m okay. . . . No, actually I’m going nuts in here. They make me listen to this stuff all night. I have to stuff cheese in my ears to sleep.”

“Cheese?”

“It’s all I got. And they make me read the Bible all day. How long are they gonna keep me here?”

“Did you repent?”

“I said I was sorry. I don’t think Enos believes me. Also, he smelled the cigarettes and found the butts.”

“You must repent!”

“I tried — I
told
you.”

“You must try harder.”

“Okay . . . Have you seen my mom?”

“She is well. I saw both her and your sister at Evensong.”

“Can you ask her to talk to Enos? Or Father Grace?

I think for a moment. For me to approach Tobias’s mother would be unseemly. In any case, I doubt that her words would sway Brother Enos.

“You must repent in your heart,” I say. “It is the only way.”

“Screw you, then! Did they send you here just to tell me that?”

“No one sent me. I should not be here at all.” I back away from the window and stand up.

“Jacob, wait!”

I walk away.

The next night, I return to the Pit and hear from within a recording of a call-and-response from Babel Hour:

“And he shall kill the bullock before the Lord . . .”

“And the priests shall bring the blood . . .”

I lie on my belly with my face near the bars. “Tobias!” I whisper.

“And he shall flay the burnt offering . . .”

“And cut it into pieces . . .”

Tobias’s hands grasp the bars.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Did you repent?”

“I tried. Like I told you, Enos doesn’t believe me. I think he wants me to memorize the Bible first or something. . . . What is this I’m listening to?”

“It is from Leviticus. A call-and-response from Babel Hour.”

“What’s that?”

I explain to him about Babel Hour.

“That’s how you meet girls here?” he says.

“And the sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire upon the altar . . .”

“Yes. It is great fun.”

“Weird,” he says, not in a nasty, disdainful way, but with a sense of amazement.

“How did you meet girls in Limon?” I ask.

“Everywhere. In school, or at the mall. Lots of ways. I met Shelly in Sunday school.”

“Shelly?”

“My girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I guess. She was cool.”

“Tell me of her.”

He tells me about the girl Shelly, about her long yellow hair, her eyes the color of the sky, her breasts —

“You saw them with your eyes?” I say in wonder.

“Sure. We used to make out all the time.”

“Make out?”

“You know, feel her up and stuff.”

“You touched her body?” The thought of it is shocking and unbearably thrilling. I have hardly dared to imagine such a thing.

“Every inch,” he says. I hear pride, not shame, in his
voice.

We talk for a long time. As the machine plays verses from Exodus, he tells me of girls, of the Internet, of movies and video games and cars and strange foods. He tells me about his father, living in the jungles of Costa Rica, and of his sister’s pregnancy. “She wanted to marry her boyfriend, but he was only seventeen, and then she was going to give up the baby for adoption, but Mom started going to Grace Ministries, and we ended up here.”

I tell him about walking the fence, and hunting deer in the High Forest, and winter storms, and swimming in the ice-cold waters of the Pison.

I tell him about how I met Lynna.

“She sounds cool,” he says, and I wish I had not spoken of her.

I tell him of the Tree.

“You mean like in the Garden of Eden?”

“Yes. Father Grace sometimes calls our land Eden West. The first Garden of Eden was the beginning. Nodd’s gardens will bloom at the End of Days.”

“Huh.” I hear doubt in his voice.

“The Tree grows in the Sacred Heart. It is the reason we are here. When you get out, I will show it to you.”

“If they ever
let
me out.”

“Do as Enos asks, and you will be freed.”

“And that which remaineth of the flesh . . .”

“And of the bread shall ye burn —”

The recording ends with a loud click. We are startled into silence. After a few seconds, Tobias says, “In the morning Enos starts it up again.”

“I should go,” I say.

“See you tomorrow?”

“I will try,” I say.

The next day, after I deliver my last bundle of sorghum stalks to the press, Brother Enos sends for me. As I enter his office his expression is stern, even for Enos. I fear that Tobias has told him of my visits.

He does not ask me to sit. That is a bad sign. In his hand he holds a scrap of yellow paper. He looks from me to the paper, and back again.

“Brother Jacob, is there anything you wish to confess?” he asks.

His words cut me like a knife; I feel as if my insides are about to spill out onto the floor. It is all I can do to remain standing.

A faint, tight smile compresses Enos’s lips. “I see,” he says.

“I am afraid for him,” I say. “I told him to repent.”

Enos’s brow furrows at that, and I realize that he expected me to say something else.

“Explain yourself,” he says sharply.

“I . . . I went to visit the new boy last night. In the Pit.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I fear for his soul,” I say. It is true, or at least half true. “I feel . . . I feel I am responsible for him being there.”

“How so?”

“I was tasked with showing him our ways. I failed. And now he pays the price.”

“Price? He pays no
price
. He is being rewarded with salvation.”

“As was Brother Von?”

Enos’s face darkens. I cannot believe that I said what I said.

“Brother Von was possessed. His trespass at Womenshome was but the final straw. The Grace suffered years of Von’s transgressions before that night. We had no alternative but to have Samuel perform an exorcism. The boy Tobias is merely ignorant and undisciplined — as are you.”

He waits for me to respond, but I am too terrified to speak, not knowing what might come out of my treacherous mouth. Brother Enos makes an exasperated sound with his lips, then looks again at the scrap of yellow paper.

“This was discovered by Brother Luke. It was attached to the north fence.” Brother Enos impales me with his raptor eyes and holds out the paper. “Do you know anything about it?”

My stomach goes hollow as I read the scrawled and damning message: