Ashes of the Sun Page 11

  I missed my Dad.

  Even if I didn’t remember him that well.

  But he didn’t want me. Mom brought us here. And I still felt like I wasn’t good enough. Because I wasn’t happy. Because I didn’t like saying prayers and singing to the sun every morning like weirdos.

  “You need to think about if the world is a better place without you. If your negative impact is hurtful to those around you. If what you put out isn’t good, then perhaps you shouldn’t be here. Not with your family. There’s no place on this Earth for the wicked.” Pastor Carter’s words before locking me in The Refuge hurt. A lot.

  Another day passed.

  And I wasn’t angry anymore. I just wanted to get out.

  I banged on the door and yelled. No one answered.

  Another day passed.

  And another.

  I’d take matters into my own hands.

  And when the blood was warm on my skin I felt peace…

  My eyes opened with a pop.

  I tried to shake off the last feelings of the nightmare. I could still feel the stifling air inside The Refuge. Even though it had been years since my last visit, it had deeply imprinted on my subconscious.

  Like a disease it festered.

  My skin was sticky with dried sweat.

  Mom was only just starting to stir for The Sun’s Morning Blessing.

  Fifteen minutes later I was walking through the trees.

  I couldn’t see Anne. I looked for her.

  “What’s all this about?”

  I startled, not expecting Bastian to appear beside me.

  He looked rumpled from sleep. His hair was flattened on one side of his head. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of an Ohio State College sweatshirt. He was weirdly cute in his just woken up grogginess. I quickly looked away.

  “It’s a little early for a hike, don’t ya think?” His voice was too loud. We weren’t permitted to talk until after the sun rose.

  I put my finger over my lips to indicate Bastian needed to be quiet. He frowned but got the hint. He continued the rest of the way in silence.

  I was feeling unusually lethargic. Must have been the nightmare. I hadn’t slept well. I was less sure on my feet as I made the familiar trek to the cliff top. I tripped over a root and stumbled. Hands reached out to grab me. Steadying me.

  “You okay?” Bastian mouthed.

  I nodded, brushing him off. I could still feel his fingers on my skin. Long after they weren’t there anymore.

  I gave him a smile. But good manners didn’t necessarily mean sincerity.

  We fell into step together. We had fallen behind the rest of the group so we walked the final half mile alone.

  It was strange to walk through the dark woods with him. It felt insulated and oddly intimate. Like we existed in our own bubble separate from everything else. Like we were the only two people in the world.

  I noticed how Bastian took in everything around him. He navigated the fallen trees and leaf strewn ground with ease. Clearly, he was comfortable in nature.

  He stopped when we came to a small stream. It was barely more than a trickle and easy to jump over. But Bastian held out his hand for me on the bank. I hesitated but then put my hand in his. He helped me get to the other side. Something I could easily have done myself. But I wouldn’t be rude about it. I knew better.

  Another few minutes and we pushed through the shrubs and trees and found ourselves on the outcrop. The rest of The Gathering were already there. Bastian stopped. I heard his quick intake of breath as he took in the valley below. The sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. It was quiet. Incredibly quiet. A wind picked up, carrying with the smell of dawn.

  It was hard to feel anything but awe in such a beautiful place.

  I tapped his hand and indicated for him to follow me to a spot in the half circle the family had formed, facing the steep drop off. Pastor Carter had taken his place by the edge. His arms outstretched above his head.

  He began his song. One by one we all joined him. I finally found Anne in the group. She stood next to David. Their heads were thrown back and eyes were closed.

  “What the hell?” I heard Bastian mutter to himself. Hardly above a whisper. I tapped his hand again to get his attention. I pointed to everyone and made a gesture letting him know that he was meant to sing as well.

  I added my own song. Different than Pastor’s. Different than everyone else’s. But it fit in with the melody everyone else sung. I felt Bastian’s eyes on me. For a long time he watched me. He watched the others. He stood incredibly still. Incredibly silent. His silence was louder than our song.

  It felt like lead in my chest.

  “Blessed is the day the Lord has made,” Pastor Carter chanted.

  “Blessed is the day the Lord has made,” I repeated. I glanced at Bastian but he was watching Pastor Carter.

  “Blessed is the sun, a true manifestation of God’s love. Of God’s power.” I caught Bastian’s eyes as I said my own blessing. I couldn’t read his expression. It was blank.

  “Feel the heat. Feel the fire. Without it, we will die. Without it we will cease to be. Glory in the sun. Glory in the day. It is our gift.”

  The sun had risen in the sky. A dull glow in the hazy morning. The morning blessing was almost over. I felt self-conscious for some reason. Itchy and ready to be done with it.

  “Go forth and live the purest life,” Pastor exclaimed.

  “Amen,” I murmured. And then everyone was moving back towards the tree.

  “That’s it?” Bastian asked, moving aside as people brushed past us to make their way back to The Retreat.

  “It’s The Sun’s Morning Blessing. We do this every day. We greet the sun and show our gratefulness,” I explained with a frown, annoyed by his tone.

  “So you guys pray to the sun or something?” he scoffed.

  “No, we do not pray to the sun,” I spat out. “The sun is the embodiment of God’s love. It goes on and on forever, like His affection. It’s His gift to us.” I recited Pastor’s words, irritated at my own defensiveness.

  “Except the sun won’t last forever. It’ll burn out eventually. Does that mean there’s a time limit on God’s love?” He was making fun of me. I could tell. My palm itched, wanting to smack the smirk off his face.

  My desire for violence shocked me. Followed by my shame.

  “There’s no limit to God’s love. Perhaps you need to read the scripture and you’ll see for yourself,” I remarked steadily, proud of how calm I sounded.

  Bastian sighed, looking out over the valley again. “Just seems a waste of a great view if you don’t even take the time to enjoy it. All that singing is a little distracting.”

  My frown deepened. I opened my mouth to retort when Pastor Carter noticed us and made his way over.

  He put his hand on my shoulder and I bowed my head slightly, waiting for his benediction.

  But it didn’t come.

  “How are you finding things, Bastian?” Pastor Carter asked, his hawkish gaze zeroed in on his newest follower.

  Bastian lifted his shoulders slightly. “It’s great.”

  Pastor Carter nodded. “David seems happy.”

  Bastian’s mouth tightened. Just slightly. I wasn’t sure Pastor noticed.

  I noticed.

  “Yes. He seems happy,” Bastian agreed, though the admittance seemed to pain him for some reason. Isn’t that what he wanted? For his brother to be happy?

  Pastor Carter turned to me after a few seconds. “Don’t dawdle. It’s time to prepare breakfast, Sara.”

  I felt as though he had chastised me. Though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Of course, Pastor. I’m coming right away,” I assured him.

  Pastor looked from me to Bastian. “Good.” Then he smiled a bit kinder. “I like this dress. You have such a way with needlework, Sara.” He ran a finger along the hem of my sleeve. “God blesses us with talents when we please him.”

  I felt warm from the complim
ent. It battled against the chill in my bones. “Thank you, Pastor.”

  Pastor Carter looked at Bastian again but said nothing else. He turned and walked towards home.

  Bastian’s expression was strange. And he didn’t say anything for a long minute as if contemplating whether to speak.

  “We need to head back to The Retreat. I have to help the others with breakfast.” I reached out to pull a branch aside that blocked the path.

  “It’s beautiful,” Bastian said. He wasn’t looking at me any longer, but instead stood at the edge, staring out over the sunlit valley. It was hard to look at him. The sun blinded me. Dark spots swam in front of my eyes.

  “I can almost see why you come out here every morning.” He let out a long, heavy sigh. “He makes it look so easy, doesn’t he? Giving up everything for this.”

  I moved back towards the cliff. I would get in trouble for being late. It was my job to serve the meal that morning. “We need to get back, Bastian. It’s time for breakfast.”

  Bastian glanced back at me. “Yeah I guess we do. But can we wait a minute? I’m actually enjoying this.” He gestured for me to come over. “Come on. Just one minute. The company might be nice.” He smiled again. I didn’t smile back. My lips felt frozen. But I didn’t leave as I should have.

  The air was beginning to warm up and the sky was a gorgeous blue. It felt like the first true summer morning. When I was younger I would sneak time during the day to play in the woods. I’d enjoy the good weather. Now that I was older, my time was accounted for. I had so few free moments.

  What would it hurt to linger for a while? I pushed up the long sleeves of my dress, finding the material too heavy for the mild morning.

  “Just a few minutes. I really do need to get back.”

  Bastian sat down on the very edge of the cliff, dangling his legs over the side. “Sit down. Please.”

  “It’s a little dangerous, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly. I couldn’t look down. I was getting dizzy being so close to the drop off.

  Bastian held his hand up. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  I ignored his hand as I slowly, carefully, sank down. But I wouldn’t put my legs over the edge. That was absolute craziness. I sat a few feet back. It still felt too close.

  Bastian took the hint and scooched back so that he sat beside me, crossing his legs beneath him.

  I willed my nerves to calm down. I had never stayed behind after The Sun’s Morning Blessing before. And I never came to the cliff unless it was with everyone. Never alone. Not like this.

  “It’s fucking gorgeous, isn’t it?” Bastian exclaimed. I glared at his use of language. He gave me a crooked grin. “Sorry, I have a bit of a potty mouth.”

  The wind stirred my hair, strands sticking to my dry lips. “To answer your question, yes, it is gorgeous.”

  Bastian leaned back on his hands, crossing his legs out in front of him. “I can’t pretend to understand why you come out here every morning and chant to the sun like a bunch of natives. But I can understand why you’d want to be out at this time of day. It reminds you there’s a big, beautiful world out there, ready to be discovered.”

  I wanted to agree with him. But I didn’t know anything about a big, beautiful world. Out there was scary. It was sick and evil. That’s why I was here. It was safe on the mountain away from that world he talked about.

  I was about to argue the point when he turned to me. “How long have you been with The Gathering?”

  I blinked. “Uh. Since I was eight,” I answered.

  Bastian’s eyes grew wide. “Since you were eight? So, you’ve been here—”

  “Ten years,” I filled in.

  “You’re eighteen?” Bastian asked. I nodded. “I just turned twenty in April. I was a sophomore at Ohio State College.” He cocked his head to the side as he regarded me. “What was it like growing up here?”

  The pieces of my bad dream from the night before tickled the edges of my memory. Images of what those early years were like for me.

  “It’s had its ups and downs,” I found myself saying.

  Bastian chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as if pondering my purposeful vagueness. “What were the ups?”

  I relaxed slightly, glad I didn’t have to go about defending my family or my life again. Talking about this was easy. I smiled. “Being outside all day. Exploring the woods when we were permitted. There’s a waterfall a few miles that way.” I pointed back towards the trees. “When Anne came we tended the gardens together. Gail—Gail Cook, she’s one of the older disciples—she taught Anne and I all about different plants. I love being hands-on with things.”

  “Sounds fun,” Bastian said and it sounded like he meant it. “You haven’t been going to school then?” I tried to read if there was any judgement in his tone, but only picked up on curiosity.

  “No. I didn’t go to a traditional school. We learn the scripture. We live a clean and pure lifestyle. I know how to read. Learned when I was three years old. I can write. I help record Pastor’s sermons. I know my times tables too if you want to test me. Just so you know I’m not an idiot,” I spat out.

  Bastian held up his hands. “Whoa, I wasn’t saying you were. No need to bite my head off. I’m just surprised the state never intervened with kids out here not going to school. There are laws about education, you know.”

  I had honestly never thought about whether there were implications of Anne, Staff, myself, and the others not going to school. I wondered what Pastor had done to ensure outsiders didn’t infringe on our lives.

  “I suppose it could be considered a form of homeschooling.” Bastian shrugged.

  “Right. Homeschooling.”

  There was more I wanted to say but figured I’d sound as if I were trying to justify something, which in my mind, didn’t need justification.

  I didn’t like how his questions made me feel less than. As if I were some sort of country bumpkin without a clue.

  “I wasn’t really into school. I’m the artsy guy who just wants to get his hands covered in paint,” he laughed.

  I didn’t laugh with him. “You’re an artist?”

  Bastian made a face. “I try to be. I like painting and drawing, but deep down I know I suck. I’m going to school to be an art teacher. You know what they say, those who can’t, teach.”

  I frowned. “Who says that?”

  Bastian looked at me as if I had grown an extra head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. So, what do you like to do?” he asked.

  I ran my fingers through the dirt. “Why?”

  “Because that’s how conversation works, Sara. I tell you a bit about me, you tell me something about you. What are your hobbies? Everyone has hobbies. Are you into whittling maybe? Perhaps you play the Piccolo.” He was teasing, but I pondered what he was asking.

  What did I like to do? What interested me? It had been a long time since I had really thought about it.

  “I guess I like art, too. I used to make sculptures out of mud.” I felt silly admitting it. I sounded incredibly juvenile.

  When I was a girl, no more than five or six, in the time before The Gathering, I would sit in the garden of my old house and pack dirt into shapes. In my imagination, they were beautiful buildings and amazing animals.

  Until the time my mother got angry when I tracked wet sludge into the house and I was forbidden after that.

  “Mud sculptures?” Bastian chuckled.

  I ducked my head, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well, I was five.”

  “Hey, I get it. We all play in the dirt when we’re kids. But what do you like to do now?”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I like to grow things. I told you that already. Anne and I tend to the vegetable gardens.”

  Bastian grinned. I liked the look of it on him. It was better than the surly expression he wore most of the time. “See, now that’s amazing. I can’t grow anything. I tried to grow weed in my apartment last year but it died after a week. It was really d
isappointing.”

  “You were growing weeds? Why would you do that? Why not some flowers?” I scoffed. It was my turn to look at him like he was crazy.

  Bastian squinted at me. “Uh, not weeds. Weed. You know. Marijuana?”

  I shook my head.

  Bastian snorted. “You don’t know what marijuana is? What self-respecting eighteen-year-old doesn’t know that?”

  I felt like he was mocking me. I didn’t like it.

  “Okay, if you’re going to make fun of me, I’ve got to get back—” I started to stand up but Bastian grabbed my hand.

  “No. Don’t go. I wasn’t making fun of you. I promise.” He gave my hand a tug. “Sit back down. Just for a few more minutes.”

  I hesitated.

  “This is the first non-crazy conversation I’ve had in days. Please.”

  I bristled. “We’re not crazy!”

  He pursed his lips. “I didn’t mean—don’t you think—you know what, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  I relaxed. Marginally. Slowly I sat back down. Though I was still on guard.

  “It’d be nice to do some art here. Get some paints or acrylics. This view would be amazing on canvas. Sitting here, I can almost imagine living here forever.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you planning to be here forever? Isn’t that why you wanted to join us?” I was goading him. I knew it. He knew it.

  But he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he ignored my questions.

  “Do you think you could teach me how to grow something?” Bastian asked.

  “Sure. If you want to,” I said nonchalantly. But my heart thudded a little harder.

  A little quicker.

  Bastian smiled again. The genuine one. The one he meant. “Cool. That sounds great.” He sighed, looking back out across the vista. “It’s peaceful. But it’s so quiet. Maybe too quiet. It’s weird, but I kind of miss the noise.”

  “I like it quiet,” was all I said.

  “I don’t know. There’s something exhilarating about a loud concert. Or the crash of waves on a beach. Or the commotion when you stand in the middle of Times Square in New York. Noise reminds us that we’re here. That we’re present. That we’re alive,” he countered, picking up a handful of dirt and letting it sift through his fingers.