Enemy of Gideon (19 page)

“A matter of seconds,” he says. “People say the memories start to come at you in waves.”

I wait for the first wave to hit. I wait a full minute, but it never comes.

“Anything?” Arkin asks.

I sigh. “No.”

Sarai cries, pushing the tears away with the back of her hands. “Lord Jesus, please help her remember.”

I search my mind for a single memory to hang on to, something from the past. I take myself back even farther than I need to go. My father took me to fly a kite once. The memory exists in flashes. The kite tore, and I cried over it. My dad said, “I don’t need a kite. I have one right here.” I remember Daddy lifting me up on his shoulders and running with me. I stopped crying and laughed with him.

“I can’t remember you,” I say to Arkin, my hope slipping away.

“Then we know what we need to do,” Elder Timothy says.

“What?” Arkin asks.

“Gather the village together,” he says. “We’re going to pray.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“E
lder, I don’t think this is going to work,” Arkin says as we walk toward a clearing in the village.

“Have faith,” he says.

“But many people are still upset about the—”

The elder raises a hand, silencing Arkin, but he says nothing to counter his point.

The people of Corinth, nearly two hundred of them, gather in the clearing where crude, wooden benches are set out for seating in front of a podium made of tree logs. Old and young take seats on the benches. When room runs out on the benches, people gather around the edge of the clearing. Arkin and I stand beside the podium where Elder Timothy waits for everyone’s attention.

“Friends, we come together for an emergency,” he says in a commanding voice I don’t expect to come from such a sickly body. “Raissa is here with us, and she needs our help.”

“Why is she back here?” a man asks, standing at the back. “She compromised Philippi!”

“We don’t know for certain who compromised Philippi,” Elder Timothy says.

“What about our safety? She could be bugged,” an elderly woman says from the second row.

Elder Timothy raises his hands. “The Word of the Lord says, ‘Fear not—”

“The raid happened after
she
brought the CE chief’s son to Philippi!” a woman yells, standing and pointing at me.

More voices join in with hers and murmurs echo through the crowd. Some people shoot accusing glances my way. Others look at me with pity.
What’s happening here? I don’t know what they’re talking about!
Arkin steps closer to me and places an arm over my shoulders.

“Did I cause the raid?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Enough!” Elder Timothy yells, banging his fist on the podium.

His voice and the bang startle the crowd into silence. Arkin releases me and steps to the podium. He whispers something to Elder Timothy, who backs away from the podium to let him have the floor.

“My name is Arkin of Philippi,” he says to the crowd. “I was sent on a mission to Gideon to bring Raissa Santos to my village. I thought I felt God leading me to bring Ogden Penski, the CE chief’s son too.”

The crowd murmurs.

Arkin swallows, and his eyes redden. “Raissa is not the one who caused the raid. That was my fault. With my father’s permission, I invited Ogden to Philippi and compromised the entire village.” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “The deaths of our fellow believers, the deaths of my mother and father, were my fault.”

The crowd’s murmurs fade. People wipe away tears and reach out to comfort each other.

His parents are dead because of me and Ogden?
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it all. He was a stranger to me, and yet, he and I had been through something traumatic.

“It’s not your fault, Arkin,” a woman says from the front row. “You were doing God’s will.”

“They were too careless!”  a voice shouts, but I can’t find the owner.

“She doesn’t belong here!” another adds.

“How can we allow this boy to take the blame?” a man says to the crowd. “He’s grieving like all of us!”

Others shout in protest as two women from the front row stand and approach Arkin, hugging him as he wipes the tears from his face.

The believers continue arguing with each other. Elder Timothy tries to shout over them, but he coughs, unable to control the crowd.

“Quiet! Let the elder speak!” a woman shouts. Others join her, and soon the entire clearing falls silent.

Elder Timothy clears his throat. “Friends, we cannot allow our feelings to divide us. Raissa and Arkin need our support. I have gathered you all together to lift up Raissa in prayer because Gideon has erased her memories of us.”

Some believers murmur in disapproval, shaking their heads and offering expressions of pity. Others make their way out of the clearing, and more follow until only half remain.

Elder Timothy looks at me and Arkin with a somber expression. My gut twists. I wish I could leave this place.
They don’t seem to want anything to do with me. Why should I stay?

“We must pray for God to restore her memory,” the elder continues, “because our technology to restore her memory has now become obsolete. Our only hope is in the power of the Lord, so please join with me as we pray.”

The people bow their heads and close their eyes. Citizens always rise in unison for the anthem of Gideon or to honor the founder but not with this level of reverence.

“Heavenly Father, we praise You and honor You for bringing Raissa back to us,” Elder Timothy prays. “This young lady is very important to us and to Your Kingdom. We pray right now that You would restore her memory. You can do all things, so we ask in Jesus’ name that You would heal her mind and help her to remember us. Help her to remember the day she gave her life to You.”

I can’t understand what Timothy means by those words, but a strong impulse to pray overcomes me. I bow my head and close my eyes as Timothy’s arm falls around my shoulders. Warmth envelopes me. Other hands fall upon my shoulders and back. Hands cover my head and neck. All around me, voices whisper.

Please, God, give me back my memory,
I pray.
I want to remember these people. I want to remember who You are.

My mind returns to the dream of dancing with Arkin. He laughed. I stepped on his toes. He wore a blue shirt and brown shorts. A violin played amazing music.

“Raissa! I’ve never seen you smile so much,” he said.

Why was I smiling so much?

Mom cried herself to sleep in the bed. They bruised Petra’s face. Arkin taught me about the Bible and God months ago. The city-state executed my father as an enemy. They executed Petra too. Ulysses Gideon was a traitor. CE captured Arkin’s parents during the raid on Philippi. Hunter was a spy for CE. Dr. Harget lied to me about not working for Code Enforcement. They strapped me to a bed at the rehabilitation center and drugged me. They made me memorize the Code by shocking me. Arkin held me while I wept on the floor during worship. My sins were forgiven. Jesus entered my life and set me free.

“I remember,” I say, opening my eyes. “It worked! I remember!”

The crowd backs away, faces peer over shoulders at me. I even recognize some from Philippi.

Arkin stands in the crowd. “You remember?”

“I remember you, Arkin,” I say.

“Hallelujah!” Elder Timothy yells and other voices echo his.

Arkin wraps his arms around me and lifts me from my feet. I hold him, not wanting to let him go. Every conversation, every moment with him becomes fresh in my mind again. Everything I love about him, everything I know about him all comes flooding back.

Some believers lift their hands to the sky. Others weep with joy. Some fall on their knees. Somewhere in the crowd, a person sings a lovely melody about the awesomeness of God. The rest break into song too. Arkin pulls back and sings with tears in his eyes.

I’m ready to continue what God started in my life.

With my newfound family, I can be free from the oppression of the Code and life in Gideon’s system. I long to join Arkin in Corinth, but what about my promise to Petra? How can I leave Mom behind?

►▼◄

Memories return to me all week after my visit to Corinth. A renewed passion for learning the Bible and more about Jesus invigorates me each day. My zeal for abandoning Gideon grows with every passing minute, but I have to keep my feelings under lock a
nd key around Hunter and Mom. My previous distain for Hunter disappears when I add the knowledge of my new friend to my memories.
Could Hunter really be a CE officer? Would a spy pretend to have affection for Mom just to keep an eye on me?

Regardless of the answer, I have to keep myself above suspicion. I have to act as oblivious as I did when my memory disappeared, keep up my delivery job around Gideon, and seem content with my life as a citizen. This will be difficult when all I want is to escape to the outskirts.

“Raissa!” Mom calls, knocking on my door.

“What?” I groan, rolling over in my bed.

“It’s nearly eleven. Were you up late?” she asks.

Remembering the night before, I pop up and yank my blankets, covering the Bible between my body and the wall. In the next second, Mom opens my door and walks into the room.

I rub my eyes. “I fell asleep late.”

“Hunter is taking me back to the aviary today for my special day,” she says, dropping on the bed with a mischievous grin.

“Right, your birthday,” I say, recalling the date. “Happy Birthday.”

She pinches my cheek. “Thank you. I know there are a lot of things you don’t remember lately, but that’s no excuse for forgetting my birthday.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing the pinched spot. “I’ve been working so much. I guess I lost track of the days.”

“You have until I return this evening to scramble for a gift,” she says.

I chuckle at her. We haven’t spoken to each other in this way since before Petra moved out. The contrast between weeping Mom and this one makes life seem like a dream world, but Mom has a reason to be happy: Hunter. And if Hunter is a fake and a spy, how will I ever break it to Mom? Such news would destroy her. But if Hunter is fulfilling an undercover mission, then why does he still hang around so long after my time in rehab?

She stands from the bed. “What are your plans today?”

“I guess I’m buying my mom a birthday present,” I say.

“Besides that?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say, knowing Arkin expects me in Corinth by two o’clock.

“I’ll be home a little later. Hunter also plans to cook for me at his place this evening,” she says, turning to leave the room. “There are some leftovers in the fridge.”

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You like Hunter, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she says, not restraining a smile. “I haven’t felt this way since your father …”

“How did the enemy kill Dad? Why?” I ask. “I can’t remember anything about it.”

Her smile fades. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.”

“But if the enemies are that dangerous, shouldn’t—”

“What’s in the past is in the past,” she says. “We need to move forward, set our sights on the future, not bury our heads in the past.”

Mom emanates uneasiness when she avoids the truth.
She knows I’ve been lied to.
Bitterness grips me by the throat.
She let them lie to me and brainwash me in the rehab.

“Enjoy your time with Hunter,” I say, falling back against my pillow.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, closing the door.

I hop up from the bed and hide the Bible in its usual place under the loose floorboard. I thank God CE never found it. They probably raided my room after the arrest. If they’d thought to check the floorboards, they most certainly would have found the book, the letter from Petra, and the other notes I took while studying the Bible with Arkin. I can’t even remember how my sketchbook ended up under my bed. If it hadn’t been there, Mom would have found it, seen the drawings of Arkin, and probably thrown it in the trash.

Hearing Mom’s footsteps leave the apartment, I close my curtains and slip into a fresh pair of coveralls.

Mom loves daisies, so my first course of action will be to get a bouquet from the market. On my way, I check my wristband to see how many credits I have. I gave some credits to Mom the week before for groceries. With my own credits and a few here and there from Hunter, we’ve been eating better in the past month.
 

“Eight credits,” a short, round man at the flower cart says.
 

I offer my wrist. The man uses a handheld device to scan the wristband, and it makes a high-pitched beep. He hands me the bouquet of daisies.

“Thank you,” the man says, turning his head. “Ogden, add daisies to the list.”

My eyes widen when Og emerges from the other side of the flower cart. He avoids my gaze as he types on a digital pad.

I approach him. “You work here?”

He nods. “I don't have time to talk.”

“It's okay,” the man says. “Take your break.”

Og grimaces and then hands the pad to his supervisor. He turns on his heel and heads away from me into the nearest group of pedestrians.

“Wait up,” I say, hurrying after him.

He doesn't increase his pace, but he doesn't slow down. I meet his stride.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. “I remember.”

He stops, throwing off the pedestrians behind him who dodge us to keep going.

He grabs me by the arm and drags me to a nearby bench.

“What do you remember?” he asks, sitting.

I take a seat beside him. “Everything.”

His expression grows dark. “So you remember how you treated your best friend like garbage?”

His words stab my chest like a burning needle, filling me with a massive dose of shame.