Move it, move it, move it!”
The famished, half-dead women dragged off toward the Pavilion. Only Melinda lingered, pretending to rewrap her ankle while she looked around the barn and truck. How could she ever get her children away from their Guardian Angel? Or Shannon from her work crew? How could they all hide under that tarp without being seen? And get out of the compound without being missed?
Oh, if her head would just quit aching so she could think! Or if the God Josh had trusted so much would just do a miracle for her like the ones she had read about in the Bible!
“This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer and fasting.” (Mark 9:29)
What, what? A Bible verse . . . but why did she think of that particular one?
Suddenly tears sprang to her eyes. Yes! Oh, thank You, God. For now she had her plan.
Chapter Five
After washing her hands in the old metal tub outside the ramshackle eating Pavilion, Melinda opened its sagging screen door. The Prophet had already “blessed” the food, and was now being served at the head table with the Prophetess and some of his guards. Tonight’s Anointed menu included steaming hot pork chops, mashed potatoes, baked beans, and pumpkin pie —with Agnes already on her second plate.
In contrast, the Unanointed adults stood in a long line, waiting for their own dreary meals of cold, meatless stew and stale bread at the roughhewn serving counter, which they would sit on crude benches to eat. Behind them waited Sister Uriah, the children’s Guardian Angel, with her exhausted young charges—forced, as usual, to eat last. If there was anything left to eat.
But this evening, instead of taking her place at the end of the adult line, Melinda limped boldly to the food-filled head table. Carefully easing her swollen ankle onto the concrete floor, she knelt by the Prophet’s dust-covered boots, where his pet pit bull, The Avenging Angel, noisily chomped on some porkchops.
Dear God, please help me!
Immediately, two guards leapt up, pointing their guns directly at her neck. Annoyed, the Prophet threw his dog another greasy bone and wiped his mouth on the back of his hands. But before he could lash out at her—
“Hail, God’s Anointed!” she cried, keeping her eyes modestly downcast.
“Shut up!” ordered one of the guards, smashing his gun barrel down on her arm so hard tears sprang to her eyes. “How dare you address the Prophet without permission?”
Harve grabbed another porkchop and took a giant bite. “Oh, let her speak,” he mumbled between mouthfuls. “This might be amusing. What is it, Sister Abigail?”
Head still lowered, she chose her words carefully. “O Prophet, I see now that you have indeed been sent to deliver me and my children from the Gates of Hell. But I feel much too unworthy! Therefore, before Sister Deborah and I become your handmaidens tonight, we have but one request of you that we might be prepared by God to be all we should be for you.”
Oh, how she loathed that kind of talk—lies, lies, all of it! Dear God, forgive me, but our lives depend on this!
The Prophet’s mouth twitched. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Now she looked up.
“That, instead of eating, from now until tonight’s Teaching message, my children and I and Sister Deborah spend the time apart, fasting and praying, to prepare our souls and bodies for our new life ahead.”
“Ridiculous!” sniffed one guard.
But the Prophet laughed. “Sounds fine to me. As long as you also take time to wash up those filthy feet and put on some clean garments for our wedding night. Lord, look at that swollen lip. How do you expect me to kiss you like that? Do something about it, will you?” Wrinkling his nose, “And ask one of the guards for a spray of perfume. You stink!”
Suddenly he tilted her face up with his still-porkchop-filled hand, and grinned. A twisted grin full of lust, power, triumph, and revenge. “Yes, yes, get yourself ready, pretty, pretty Sister Abigail. Ready for the blessing of your life! Here, woman, this is the sign of your acceptance.”
From his jeans pocket, he pulled out two of the cheap chains and pendants reserved for his Exalted Handmaidens. “You’d be getting this one tonight, anyway. And here’s one for Sister Deborah. It’ll show my guards that you all have official permission to leave the pavilion.”
Agnes laughed shrilly. “I’m sure some other poor wretch will be glad to eat your food. Besides, you need another baby to keep you busy, you lazy witch. Those two brats of yours have been spoiled rotten. Worthless tramp! Always so proud of your pretty hair and fine husband. Thought you were something, didn’t you? Well, pride is a sin, woman. See how proud you feel when the Prophet’s through with you!”
Smirking, Harve placed the chain around Melinda’s neck. Suddenly he gave it a hard jerk, ripping painfully into her flesh. “All right, all right, out of my way, peasant. On with your business. Move!” And he turned abruptly back to his meal.
Cursing, the guards withdrew their own guns from her neck, stuck them back in their holsters, and reached for more potatoes.
Still on her knees, Melinda quickly grabbed a handful of greasy bones that the Avenging Angel had just discarded. Then slipping them into her pocket, she struggled to rise. Once outside, maybe she could rinse off the bones for her hungry children to suck on, since they would be missing their evening meal. While she and Shannon, of course, had eaten nothing since yesterday morning. If they did escape, who knew where their next meal might come from?
Then she limped back to the end of the meal line, where her children and Shannon waited. The Guardian Angel frowned at her request, but the new chain around Melinda’s neck gave the weary woman no choice but to hand over the two children. Besides, this meant she would have two fewer charges to worry about for a while.
Famished though they were, neither child questioned leaving the line. Nor did Shannon, even though her eyes opened wide with terror when Melinda slipped the chain over her head. Then, heads held high, they all walked straight toward the Pavilion door.
But the moment they opened it they were challenged. “You, there!” a guard growled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Melinda pointed to the chains around her and her young friend’s necks. “The Prophet has given us permission to be gone till Teaching time to get ready for our wedding night, sir. Now if you will please move out of our way —”
“Don’t give me that bull!” But after a quick consultation on his cell phone, “All right, all right, you’re cleared. None of us are supposed to follow you. But no funny business, or else!”
Oh, thank You, God!
“But that doesn’t mean that you have to go alone,” he added with a smirk.. “Why, it’s getting dark. These sweet little young’uns might get hurt out there, mightn’t they? Or even lost. So here’s a little company for you. See?”
And he reached down to the
