Amish Vampires in Space (36 page)

What had happened here?

Jeb felt emptiness form in the middle of his stomach. A dread deeper than he’d expected for having been exposed to the group again. He contemplated turning back. Returning to his room with Sarah. Maybe just sending a message back. If their desk could contact anyone here. Which, of course, it couldn’t.

“You look lost, Herr Miller,” Jonathan said. “What are you here for?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off those nearby. The lack of uniformity. What had happened to the elders since he’d been away? Certainly they wouldn’t allow all this. Was the whole settlement in Rumaspringa?

He glanced at the young man, who now seemed to be staring at Jeb’s left arm and leg. Smiling. Almost dazed.

“I want to see the bishop…the deacons.” Jeb felt a touch of emotion as he said it. Conviction of guilt, possibly. It
would
be good to be in communion again. To feel absolved. Even if it hurt his pride. Even if things here were a little different now.

“The bishop?” Jonathan waved his hand in the general direction of the settlement. “He’s around. Spoiling everyone’s fun.” A smile. “Do you like fun, Mr. Miller? Do you like to drink?”

Jeb clenched his fist. Squinted at the young man. Shook his head and pointed toward the nearest group of people. “I guess I’ll find them myself, danki.”

Jebediah drifted toward the settlement, but when he got far enough away from the doors he considered walking to the periphery of the bay just to observe. To get the lay of the land. Or possibly escape. He searched the wall nearest him. There weren’t many shadows there. Not enough to hide in, anyway. He still walked that way. It would feel safer to have his back against something solid. Something he didn’t have to worry about.

He hadn’t taken four steps before he saw a large figure move through the crowd: Abraham. One person he’d rather not see. Not yet.

Abraham’s head turned in Jebediah’s direction, his eyes locked on, and he stared.

Jeb felt suddenly smaller. Embarrassed. Wishing to be ignored.

Abraham smiled and swam through people like he was a giant water sprite. Large hands pushed and pulled. Finally he reached the clear and held open his arms. “Jebediah Miller,” he rumbled. “So glad you’ve returned.” Abraham’s pants were black, but his coat was missing. And his shirt was…bright yellow. As he approached, his arms stayed in a position that made it clear he intended to embrace.

Jeb frowned and, holding out a hand, took a broad step of avoidance.

Thankfully, it was enough to deter Abraham. His smile diminished and his arms lowered, albeit slowly. “It is good to see you again, my brother.”

Jeb shook his head. “You shouldn’t be talking to me,” he said. “I haven’t repented yet. Haven’t seen the deacons.”

Abraham’s arms finally touched his body. He still exuded friendliness, with a smile threatening to show through. “But you will, won’t you?” he said. “That’s why you’ve come.”

Jeb only nodded. He glanced at the people beyond Abraham. They had all stopped and turned to face him now. They were quiet and expressionless. Staring. Hands folded in front of them. As if they were a choir preparing to sing.

It was eerie. These weren’t his people anymore. Something was really wrong. Like the young lady with Congi. All out of character and out of place. He felt like sprinting for the door. “Where is Samuel?” he asked. “Mark? James?”

Abraham made a sweeping gesture. “Oh, they’re here somewhere.” A shrug. “You are welcome to repent to me, if you like.” A glance at the crowd behind him. “We’ll all accept it, won’t we? Absolve our brother.”

Though he’d practiced nonaggression all his life, at that instant, Jeb wished he had a wooden ax handle in his hand. Something long and weighty. He shook his head, again scanning the areas of the settlement he could see from where he stood. He hoped he could find someone who would treat him like he was shunned. Who would uphold their traditions. “I want to find them.” He started walking to his left, stepping away from Abraham, and toward the safety of the structures.

The crowd of people moved toward him, but Abraham subtly held them back. Everyone stopped. Jeb felt some relief.

Ahead was one of the long rows of individual dwellings. There were heavy curtained entrances on both sides. Most of these dwellings looked nondescript, normal, with no external decoration whatsoever. That felt safe. Without another word to Abraham, Jeb quickened his pace and entered the row. He immediately felt shielded from Abraham’s group. He didn’t look back, but he could sense them watching him. Tracking him even through the dwelling walls. He put a hand on his hat. Ducked his head. Walked faster.

Most of the curtains had been drawn shut. Strange for early morning. He’d expected more bustle. People carrying pails for milking chores, morning washings, children being instructed. Yet he passed by a dozen dwellings before he heard anything whatsoever. Some groans and unintelligible talking. As if someone were sick inside. When he reached the far end of the row without anyone having come out, he decided to stop at a “home” and inquire. He purposely chose the place three from the end on his left. He walked to it and knocked on the frame next to the curtained “door.”

He heard a cough from inside, but got no response otherwise. He glanced up the row in the direction he’d come, almost expecting Abraham and his gang to be standing there waiting. But they weren’t. He shook his head and knocked again.

The curtain moved slightly, only enough for one eye to peer out. The eye widened, and the curtain snapped shut.

“Pardon,” Jeb said, knocking again. “I need some help. I need to see a deacon.”

A few moments passed and the curtain opened a little wider, enough that he could see a face. Deacon Mark’s face. “Are you here to repent?” Mark asked.

Jebediah squinted. “I wanted—”

“Because I don’t think Samuel will see you any other way.”

A nod. “I understand.” He checked the “street” again. “What has happened here? Why is there so much…different?”

Mark stuck his head completely out. Looked both ways quickly, and then hurried Jebediah inside. The room was nearly empty. It had only a single wooden chair and a heavy patchwork quilt on the floor, predominately white with red and blue mixed in. There was a Bible on the seat of the chair and a lit lamp next to the chair. The light was unnecessary, the overhead lights were on.

“Are all dwellings so simple?” Jeb asked.

Mark glanced around the room, frowned, shook his head. “This dwelling was never occupied,” he said. “We’ve been using it as a prayer room of sorts.” A nervous smile. “Lately. There are few places to be alone here, obviously.”

Jeb frowned, examined the pattern of the quilt on the floor. It had lots of arrows and a central starburst shape. The arrows all pointed toward the star. “It seems like you are hiding out here, Mark.”

Mark retrieved the Bible from the seat, and folding it into his arms, sat down. “Why would you say that?” Mark stared at the lamp on the floor, shook his head. “Nee, we’re not hiding. Withdrawing, perhaps. Searching our hearts. Waiting on God’s direction.”

“Direction on what?” He pointed toward the door. “Has the Ordnung been changed? Because I saw—”

Mark shook his head. “No, it has not. But the community…” He looked at the floor. Rocked nervously. “It isn’t what it was.” A glance Jeb’s direction. “Samuel says it is about the outsiders, about us being here. But I don’t think he believes that anymore. I don’t think he knows what to do.”

“What have you tried?”

Mark squeezed his Bible between his hands. Rocked again. “The usual, of course. But there are too many now. David has…” A head shake. “I don’t know what he has done. And there are more sick.”

“Sickness? I did not know.”

Mark frowned, nodded. “A fever, yes. Shakes, strange talk and behavior. But it is brief. Lasts no more than a day.”

“And many have become so inflicted?”

Mark nodded again. “Dozens now. But afterwards, they change. They become like David. Rebellious. I believe it is connected. It must be.”

Jeb thought of their resident caregiver. “And what does James say?”

Mark shook his head. “He thinks they are all fine. That there is no correlation. But there must be. And the animals…”

Jebediah looked in the direction of the livestock pens but saw only the plain blue walls of the dwelling. He had animals out there, though. Horses, cattle. Part of someone else’s collection temporarily. A lone mercy to the shunned member. Animals that he and Sarah could survive with when they reached their destination. They would need them. As would their child. “What of the animals?”

“They are acting strange.” Mark looked into his eyes. “I have no proof that their numbers are diminishing, but I suspect they are. That they’re being used somehow.” A pause. “I think we’re all being used somehow.”

“By who?”

Mark shook his head again, gave his Bible another squeeze. Rocked. “There is some connection here. Something I cannot see. I pray for the Lord’s guidance.” Sadness filled his face. “I have followed the Ordnung all my life, Jebediah. As best as I can. Why doesn’t He answer now? When I need Him most. When
we
need Him most.”

“This disease,” Jeb said. “Has the Englisher doctor seen it?”

Mark sighed. “Samuel has forbidden it. And James…”

“What of James?”

Mark stared at the section of the floor where the arrow quilt rested. There were visible indentations in it. Where knees had repeatedly touched its surface. “He said everything is fine. That they’d all be fine. But obviously that’s not the case. I suspect…” A pause. Another shake of his head.

“What do you suspect?”

“That he’s betrayed us. There is no other explanation. I’ve seen him with the groups. I watched them move last night. And I saw him later. He was
with
them.”

Jebediah felt a wave of apprehension. Like he was an animal in a pen. Like they all were. “Where is Samuel now?”

“Preparing. He wants to conduct service. He wants to try to correct the course we’re all on. To confront David and his group.” Mark reached for the lamp’s metal handle. Brought the lamp to the right side of his chair. Turned it. Put it down. “There is so much sin here now, Jebediah. I fear if we were to confront it all, there would be few of our number left. All would be shunned.” A snort of derision. “And to where? Dispersed among the heathen?”

Jebediah said nothing. Just watched.

Mark looked at him. “My apologies, Jeb. I didn’t mean to affront you. But you are no longer one of us.” A smile. “I should not be talking with you now, I know. But sometimes it helps to involve an objective party. Regardless of their state of salvation.”

Jeb looked at the wall. Solid blue. “So you feel I have lost it, then? My salvation.”

“You are out of fellowship, Jebediah. No man is assured in such a condition.”

Jeb fought confusion. Did being out of fellowship with man truly mean being out of fellowship with the Lord? Were they really one and the same? Better to be in fellowship with all, as the Ordnung taught. But they
never
had been. Not really. Alabaster had been a community unto itself, isolated. So…what of those other worlds Jeb had been learning about? Wasn’t that sort of isolation a form of being out of fellowship, if they had withdrawn from everyone who believed differently? Were they, Jeb’s people, called to “go and preach the gospel” as all Christians had been called, or were they not? Were they somehow exempted?

There was a sound of movement behind him, and Jebediah turned to see Samuel standing in the doorway. His face was flushed already. But when he saw Jeb, his eyes went wide. Filled with the righteous anger the Scriptures talked about. “So the seed of our destruction has returned,” Samuel said. “The Ninevite.”

Samuel saw the startled look of the Ninevite
and felt only pity. It was a terrible thing to confront one’s true self. To see, possibly for the first time, the result of one’s sinfulness. Yet here they all were, surrounded by the results of this one man’s transgression. A string of poor decisions had followed—sinful decisions—that had led to a calamitous circumstance. They were all trapped within the whale now.

Only by this same man’s full repentance, by complete and heartfelt resolution, did they have a prayer of making it out. Of embracing the light of God’s fellowship again.

Samuel said no more to their shunned member. He just shook his head and looked toward Mark. Young and faithful Mark. “It is time, Deacon. We need to gather those who will come. Before it is too late.”

Mark glanced at the Ninevite and lowered his head over a clutched Bible. “What of James?”

“What of James? We should gather him too, of course.”

Mark shook his head. “I don’t feel that is wise, Samuel.”

“Our responsibility is to the entire flock. That is why we were elected.” He straightened his frame. “I want everyone there. Without exception.”

Mark frowned but nodded slowly. “I will help call them.”

“Is that a good idea?” the Ninevite asked. “From what Mark said—”

Samuel ignored the question, concentrating only on Mark. And the task at hand. “We meet in the gathering place.”