“The work that you do is important. You gather lost souls and bring them to help.”
Her mother laughed. The sight of her with her eyes closed, white teeth exposed, was beautiful. The sound that her laughter made was not. Feeling cynical and raw, Summer flinched away from it. No one looked, thankfully. Everyone was too busy being nosy about the new people.
“I don’t bring them to help, Summer,” she said. “I bring them to hell. He’s brainwashed you—they’re all brainwashed.”
“Mama—”
“Yeah, I am your mother, Summer, I am. And I made a grave mistake bringing you here. I need you to listen to me, and listen carefully, okay?” Lorraine reached for her daughter, but Summer’s hands were under the table in her lap. She would have yanked her hands away, anyway, if her mama had dared touch her.
“No,” Summer said very softly. “No, I don’t want to. You’re embarrassing me. You’re acting crazy. And if you say things like this again, I’m going to tell Taured.”
The look on Lorraine’s face made Summer’s stomach ache. She’d only ever seen her mother make that face once before: on the day her dad died. She stood up from the table suddenly, not caring if she drew the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. She wanted to get away. Turning, she heard her mother hiss her name, then call it loudly as she charged past the soup bar, and then the soda fountain. She would have to walk past the table where Taured was eating dinner with Feena if she wanted to go back to Kids’ Camp. Taured paused in his conversation with Feena and Jon to look at her, and instead of walking past them, she veered left out the double doors that led into the main side of the compound. She needed to think. Her heart was hammering around so hard it hurt.
What had happened to her mother out there? If Taured found out what Lorraine was really thinking, would he ask them to leave? The thought sent panic, pure as pain, through her insides. Then she felt angry. Her mother couldn’t do that, ruin their lives here like she had with their last apartment, forcing them to leave their home in the middle of the night. Summer had left her things behind, things her dad had given her, written to her. People in the compound were headed to dinner, and she seemed to be the only fish pushing upstream. People said her name, but Summer acted like she didn’t hear them. She was almost to the chapel now, and the chapel led to the doors out front. Light-headed, she reached the corridor where the chapel stood, its doors propped open for anyone who needed a safe space to pray and think.
Summer stepped inside and smelled new paint and fresh carpet. Taured had had the whole thing redone last month. She’d been in there a couple times since, but never alone. The newly installed pews were modern and made the space look less threatening than before, when it was covered in dark wood. Through the chapel and to the back, where the Bibles were kept on a wheelie rack, was an alcove used for storage, and through that was a door that had been kept locked while the compound was a prison. Guards had used the hallway, which circled the perimeter of the building like a vein. There were access points to this vein through the chapel, the infirmary and Taured’s office. Sara had shown her where each one was. She’d been at the compound since the beginning—her family was the first to leave their former lives and join Taured here—and she told people that with pride. Summer knew where the key was stashed. To the left of the door was a framed picture of a Bible verse: plucking it from its hook, she turned it over, and wedged behind the frame backing and the frame itself was a key. She needed the key to get back in, so she pocketed it and slipped through into the dark hallway.
It smelled funny back there, like wet concrete and something sweetly rancid. The light bulbs hadn’t been replaced in years and the only light came in from the tiny rectangular windows near the ceiling. Summer walked a ways until she reached another door marked with an exit sign. This lock took the same key. It slid in and she shoved the door open, letting the fresh air pool in her lungs. There was a narrow sidewalk, and beyond that, the ground dropped off at a sharp, odd angle, a mini–Grand Canyon. On the other side of the mini-canyon was a fence and, beyond that, the desert. Summer followed the sidewalk around the building to the old prison entrance. From there she could see the guard shack perched on top of the hill. Not wanting to be seen—Marta, whom she’d called Noodles on that first afternoon, still manned the booth most days—she walked toward the carport where Taured had greeted them on their first day here.
Her mother’s words—“new meat”—were still echoing in her head. What had she meant by that? It had sounded so ugly. And if her mother was opposed to bringing back new members, why was she going on those mission trips, anyway? But Summer already knew the answer to that: the mission trips had been chosen for her mother. People were assigned to jobs based on their strengths, and it was their duty to serve the community with those strengths. Summer served here, leading the younger girls by example. And what type of example are you setting now? she thought, keeping her eyes trained on the guard shack. The carport looked different than the last time she was there: there were three SUVs this time, a shiny new RV—an Airbus—with a lightning bolt painted on the side and parked horizontally, taking up six spots, and a black convertible BMW that looked brand-spanking-new, as her daddy used to say. She walked alongside the RV, and when she got to the driver’s-side door, she tried the handle. It was open.