Outside Eden (30 page)

Travis watched the conflagration. It was the end of the world. From somewhere in the flames, a voice called: ‘Travis!’

Was it the Lord? Travis used his last strength to answer.

And the voice commanded. ‘Get on your knees, boy. Take the pain and beg for more. Repent.’

As everything around him burned, Travis sank to his knees before the Lord.

In the bright night, Harper saw Travis look up to the sky and smile. He held the lighter in his hand, lifted it and uttered, ‘Thy will be done.’

Then he stepped back, distancing himself from the puddles of fuel, ready to toss the lighter and ignite the buildings, completing the sacrifice. And, unless she moved away fast, as close as she was to the accelerant, Harper would be engulfed in the flames.

Harper tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t obey. Her skull was rattling, her entire body sore. While Travis recited a blessing, she got to her hands and knees, began crawling away from the puddles. Her hands clawed grass and dirt; her left knee screamed with pain. She had to hurry, had to stand. Managed to lift her torso, then a thigh. Planted her right foot on the ground. Tottered on her weak left knee, pushing with her right foot and struggling to her feet. Travis was silent, his blessing complete. Harper heard a click and leapt, diving as far as she could, sliding onto gravel, propelled by a harsh whoosh. For an instant, she lay still, waiting for a burst of light and heat, and when she felt the blast, she scrambled further, driven by an ear-shattering howl. Harper kept moving until, certain that she was clear of the blast, she stopped and looked back, preparing to have to rescue people from a building being consumed by fire.

But the building wasn’t burning. Travis had flicked the lighter, but before he could throw it into his pools of accelerant, the chemicals coating his skin and soaking his clothes had ignited. Harper gaped, helpless, as she watched him stumble to his knees, crackling, consumed in a ball of hungry yellow flame.

Lynne couldn’t afford to mess up again. She needed to eliminate Harper Jennings. Then she could perform the final sacrifice without obstruction.

Now that the sun was down, it was easy to sneak around the kibbutz. Men were on patrol, but it wasn’t hard to avoid them by crouching in bushes, behind cottages. Until now, she hadn’t noticed how many hiding places the kibbutz had; there were hundreds. With the foliage, camouflaged bunkers, storage huts, vehicles and cottages, cover could be found everywhere, especially in the dark.

Lynne felt calm. Confident. She was in no rush as she moved toward Harper’s bungalow. She stopped to pet a cat. To admire the starry sky. And, as she approached the path to Harper’s, she stopped again, to watch Harper talking to the guards.

Wait. Harper was leaving the bungalow. Which meant Hagit was unprotected? Lynne swallowed air, not believing her luck. She stepped closer, trying to be invisible, straining to hear them.

‘I’d like to attend the service,’ Harper said.

What? She wanted to pray? The guard told her that the service had just started, that she wouldn’t have missed much. And Harper hurried away. Lynne eyed Harper, then the bungalow. Now was her chance. She scurried down the hill, making no sound.

But the guards moved closer to Harper’s bungalow, took a position at the porch. They’d see Lynne if she approached, hear her if she broke a back window. She had no chance. Her head throbbed. How was it possible? Harper Jennings had once again kept her from the lamb. Lynne’s eyes narrowed; her jaw clenched. ‘Harper Jennings,’ she whispered, repeating the name like a curse, looking up the path.

Harper was already out of sight, but Lynne knew where she was headed: worship was being held at the main building. And Harper was alone, unprotected, unsuspecting.

Lynne moved back up the hill, out of sight of the guards. She hurried behind the bungalows, parallel to the path Harper was taking. Rushing. Seeing security guards posted outside the building. Hiding in the cluster of trees across the road, watching the entrance, the pathway. Waiting for Harper.

And waiting.

But Harper didn’t appear.

Lynne told herself that she’d been walking faster than Harper, had gotten there first. But after a few minutes, she realized that Harper must have lied to the guards. That she hadn’t been going to worship at all. So, where had she really been going?

In a heartbeat, Lynne knew. She knew with absolute certainty. Harper had been going to meet Travis.

How obvious. How come she hadn’t seen it before? Harper was helping him. Without help, how could Travis have eluded the authorities? He couldn’t have. Yet somehow, he’d not been seen since Harper had barged into the bunker and prevented the sacrifice.

Of course. Now, everything was clear. Lynne smirked, shaking her head. What a blind fool she’d been, not seeing it before. Wasn’t it odd that Travis had been the only one to escape the bunker? Wasn’t it a big coincidence that Harper had let him go and that now, while he was missing, she’d made up a lie about where she was going alone in the night?

Lynne’s chest tightened, thinking of Travis, aching for him. Picturing him with Harper, their bodies entangled. The harlot. Harper had wanted him, just like Marlene had. Just like Evelyn and Jenna and Bethany had. Women were always trying to take him from her.

But not this time. Not now.

Not Harper Jennings.

Lynne waited in the trees, trying to figure out where a viper like Harper would arrange to meet Travis. Obviously, not the restaurant or the medical center. Not here at the main building or back in the bungalows. So, where?

Maybe up at the top of the hill? That lookout point with a view of the whole valley. Yes, it would be deserted tonight. They would have gone up there for their tryst. Lynne moved out of the trees. Avoiding the path and the view of the guards, she headed to the back of the building. From there, she’d scoot around to parallel the main road up the hill.

As she approached the back of the building, though, she slowed, smelling something pungent. Gasoline? Kerosene? Smoke? And something rank and sharp. Burning meat?

Lynne shivered, suddenly clammy, and her limbs were heavy, resisting movement. What was wrong? Was she having a stroke? No. She persisted, inching ahead, taking baby steps. Breathing in short shallow spurts. Trying to ignore the smell.

At the corner of the building, she peeked around, saw a bundle of something burning, flames licking it like a ravenous beast. Beyond it, her face lit by the fire, Harper Jennings stood frozen, face contorted, mouth open in a silent scream.

Harper needed a shower. Had to wash off the smell. It seemed to have penetrated her skin, her mind. Might be in her blood.

Shivering, she closed her eyes. Felt the thud of landing on a burnt-out car, and shook her head, no, she wasn’t on a car. She was outside the main building of the kibbutz, under a blanket, waiting for the firefighters to clean up Travis’s chemicals. But she couldn’t get warm, couldn’t shake the damned smell. Fuel. Burnt flesh. Death. And images kept reappearing, changing: Travis, his hand raised, ready to throw the lighter. Then the whoosh, the scream. And Travis shifted, became the woman in Iraq approaching the checkpoint. Her smile. A hot whoosh, the sense of being lifted by a blazing rolling ball. Flying, crashing onto a car . . . Stop, she told herself. She was not in Iraq, had not just seen her patrol blown up by a suicide bomber. She had to stay in the present. Take a shower. Get rid of the damned smell. But there was Travis again, raising the lighter.

‘. . . look you over.’

Someone was talking. Harper opened her eyes, saw Adi crouching beside her, Gal by her side. How long had they been there? Could they take her to get a shower?

Inspector Ben Baruch walked over, frowning. He addressed Gal in Hebrew, and Gal answered with a shrug.

‘I told you,’ Harper told Ben Baruch. ‘Travis was going to kill someone by the ninth of Av.’

Ben Baruch nodded. ‘So you did.’

‘I think you’re in shock.’ Adi’s voice was soft, cottony. She smelled like vanilla.

‘Someone has to go to my bungalow.’ Harper took Adi’s hand. ‘Tell Hagit I’ll be back as soon as I get a car.’

‘A car,’ Adi repeated.

Harper nodded. ‘Yes.’ She looked at Ben Baruch who was talking in a low voice with Gal. ‘We’re going back to Jerusalem.’

‘To Jerusalem.’

‘Shh. Don’t tell them,’ Harper cautioned. ‘We’re leaving tonight. I just need to get a car.’

‘Okay. It’s okay.’ Adi stroked Harper’s head. ‘Let’s get you looked at by the doctor, and then we’ll see—’

‘No, I don’t need a doctor, just a car . . .’ Harper tried to stand but sharp pain shot up her left leg, jolted through her hip, along her spine. She sat again, trying to figure out why she was so sore. To remember why she had to leave. What was so urgent? She closed her eyes to think; Travis held up the lighter, paused. Click. Whoosh. Scream.

She opened her eyes. Men were carrying a body bag to a van. Maybe a coroner’s van. Was there a coroner on the kibbutz? A morgue? Probably they’d take Travis to a city – maybe to Jerusalem? Maybe she and Chloe could ride along? But she had to go get Chloe. And Hagit. Had to hurry. Damn. Harper’s mind felt muddled. Maybe inhaling the chemicals had poisoned her.

Adi and Ben Baruch were talking in Hebrew.

‘Can I go?’ she interrupted.

‘Go?’ Adi met her eyes.

Gal’s mouth opened. ‘What? Are you crazy?’

‘I need to get Chloe—’

‘Look, you’re injured. Plus, it’s still not safe. The guards reported a woman running away. A blonde woman. Probably it was Lynne Watts.’

‘What?’ Harper pictured Lynne’s freckles, felt a blade at her throat.

Had Lynne been there? Had she seen Travis – the man she adored and idolized, the man for whom she’d killed her husband and two other men – had she seen him burn to death? Oh God. Where was she? What would she do?

Harper’s hand went to her throat, rubbed away the memory of steel.

‘Mrs Jennings.’ Inspector Ben Baruch stepped closer. ‘Tell us what happened here tonight.’

Harper wondered why he didn’t understand. Why none of them did. It was pointless to go over what had happened. They had to find Lynne. And she had to get to Jerusalem, to find Hank. Had to leave now.

She eyed the coroner’s van. There would be plenty of room.

‘What were you doing here?’ Ben Baruch asked.

Harper could tell from his tone that he would insist on hearing everything. That he wouldn’t let her leave. A medic came over, sat beside her, flashed a light in her eyes.

‘What happened?’ Ben Baruch repeated.

And so she told him what had happened, as simply as she could. Travis had burned up before her eyes, and she’d done nothing, not one thing to help him. Hadn’t even tried.

Lynne couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her entire being was a bleeding gaping wound.

Ramsey . . .

His name reverberated in her head. Ramsey. The firmness of his hand on her breast, the hunger of his lips pressing hers. She wanted to scream his name, to chase after the medics and rip open the body bag, rescue him. Bring him back.

She closed her eyes, clawed at them, unable to stop seeing the flame, reliving the shock of identifying the shape it was devouring. Not a pile of trash or a bundle of waste. No. A man.

And then, reflected in the flickering light, she’d seen Harper.

And she’d known.

Her legs had caved. She’d sunk to the ground, tearing at her hair, her ears. She wasn’t sure what had made the sounds in her head. Had she screamed? Wailed? Never mind. It didn’t matter. She’d coiled up like a fetus, mirroring Travis’s curled frame, rocking. Wrenching. Consumed with pain.

This couldn’t be. Couldn’t be. Couldn’t. Be.

Not after everything she’d gone through, everything she’d done to please him. Not when they were almost at the end, just one small sacrifice away from salvation. Lynne opened her eyes again and stared, unable to look away. Thought of killing someone, anyone at the kibbutz, completing the sacrifice for Travis’s sake. Except that, now, what was the point? Even if she completed the triad, slaughtering the third lamb—Even if God’s coded instructions led to the battle of Armageddon, what good was it? How could she endure eternal life without Travis by her side?

She couldn’t. She didn’t want to live another minute without him, let alone forever.

It wasn’t fair. Maybe . . . Would God bring him back anyway? Weren’t all true followers supposed to be rewarded? Of course they were. But . . . Oh dear. If Travis would be brought back, wouldn’t Peter as well? No. He couldn’t be. Nothing – no one – would keep her from Travis. And anyway, she didn’t know who’d get eternal life and who wouldn’t. Only Travis knew that.

But Travis was gone. The flames had consumed him, melted him into a huddled mound. Firefighters had arrived. Who’d called them? Satan’s number-one ally? Where was she? Lynne looked around for Harper, couldn’t see her. A team spread foam over the clump that had been Travis and lifted him into a body bag. While others examined the ground and the building, Lynne lay flat, shivering in the shrubbery.

Ramsey. Holding her belly, she kept whispering his name. And finally, he answered her. As clearly as if he were sitting beside her, she heard him speak. But this time, he didn’t scold or berate her. This time, he praised her as the only one he could count on. He told her he’d been wrong to doubt her, called her his true love and eternal soul mate. He reminded her she didn’t have to mourn him, promised that, after the conflagration, his soul would be called back to join with hers. And then, when she stopped sniffling and shaking, he told her precisely what he wanted her to do.

Finally, the questions stopped. The doctor patched Harper up and told her that her body was badly bruised, as if she didn’t already know. Soldiers drove her back to the bungalow, escorted her inside.

When she saw her, Hagit’s mouth opened and her hand went to her heart.

Harper hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. She touched her face. Gauze pads were taped to her cheek. The skin on her chin was raw and sticky. There was a lump on her forehead.

‘Travis is dead,’ she told Hagit.