The Children of Red Peak Page 3

  David let out a nervous chuckle, though he had no idea who the Amish were.

  With warm smiles, the people crowded around Mom and bowed their heads as if praying. Those closest to her laid their hands on the top of her head.

  “Thank you, Jesus!” Mom started to cry, her racking sobs punctuated by bursts of laughter. “I’m home!”

  “Oh, Mom.” Angela sighed with something like pity and nudged David. “Hey. I’m pretty sick of this truck. You want to have a look around?”

  Staring at Mom with wide-eyed dread, David shook his head, too afraid to move. Then Angela grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the cab.

  On the ground, he couldn’t see anything except the backs of adults crowding around his mother. She bawled at the top of her lungs over the rumble of prayer.

  He broke away from Angela and ran.

  His legs took him toward the trees, but the woods struck him as dark and ominous and all too easy to get lost in. He veered into the church and stood panting among the simple oak pews. His eyes roamed across the windows, altar, organ, pulpit, choir seating, and a massive carved wood dove mounted on the wall behind them. Nowhere to hide. A door beckoned to him. He raced to it.

  In the hallway beyond, David found an office and bathroom. The last door revealed a supply closet. He stepped inside and slammed the door and sat on the floor in the dark. The scent of dust and cleaners hung in the air.

  Safe at last. But lonely. All he had to do was wait.

  Any minute now, Mom would come and pick him up the way she used to when he was smaller. She’d tell him everything was going to be okay, and he’d believe it. In her warm arms, he’d have unconditional love and real safety. Then they could leave and go back home.

  His heart sank with each passing moment as she didn’t show.

  Noise outside, the voices of children.

  “We shouldn’t be back here,” a kid said. “We could get in trouble.”

  “I saw him go into the church.” That was Angela talking. “He didn’t come back out, so he must be here somewhere.”

  “Check the bathroom. Maybe nature called.”

  “I know where I’d hide if I was scared,” another voice said.

  David flinched as the closet door opened. Framed in light, a girl stood in the doorway, hands planted on her hips. His eyes adjusted to focus on her warm smile.

  “Hi, Davey,” she said. “I’m Emily.”

  3

  MOURN

  Stained-glass windows washed the funeral home’s chapel in soft morning light. Sitting on a cushioned pew, David listened to the pastor assure Emily’s family that her soul was bound for the afterlife. Wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, Beth sat between him and Deacon, holding their hands. Her fingers felt cold in his; the air-conditioning was freezing.

  The pastor was a spindly, gray-haired woman in bright white vestments. She stood earnest and consoling behind the pulpit. “Every faith in the world attests to life after death,” she said. “We don’t know what the afterlife is like, but we have our hope and belief it is one of peace and reuniting with loved ones.”

  After spending part of his childhood in the Family of the Living Spirit, David found the sermon soothingly boring, the religious staging comfortably antiseptic. At the Temple, the Reverend’s sole concession to clerical costume had been a black suit jacket worn over a gray or black T-shirt. He’d bound across the stage powered by electric faith, preaching straight to the heart about glory and fire. The congregants would wave their hands and little black Bibles and yell Amen! Seized by the Spirit, they’d rave and speak in tongues.

  Right now, boring was okay. Boring suited David just fine.

  “For Emily, her journey is beginning,” the pastor said. “For us, there is only the loss of her passing. This loss hurts because her life touched the life of every one of us here, either in some small way or by completely transforming it.”

  He tried to focus on the woman’s words, but the platitudes turned to mush in his brain. Instead, his mind flashed to last night’s dream as he’d tossed and turned in his hotel bed.

  The nightmares had stopped at some point in his early twenties, and he hadn’t dreamed of the Family in years. Last night, he did—a new dream this time, however, not one of the recurring horrors that once plagued him in the dark.

  In this dream, he roamed through the windy night around the base of Red Peak. A black cross burned energetically on its summit. David wanted to climb to the top but couldn’t find the path.

  In the morning, he’d woken up sweating, anxious, frustrated. After checking out of the hotel, he found a hawk perched on the hood of his car, a refugee of the great fire still burning in the east. The hawk studied him before spreading its wings and soaring across the parking lot. Smoke blanketed the morning sky in a gloomy yellowish overcast that set David coughing.

  The memory faded to an unsettling murmur in the back of his mind. Deacon had let go of Beth’s hand and now traced a circle on her knee. The tattoos covering his arms were mostly words, phrases in Latin and what appeared to be ancient Greek. A flaming cross decorated his forearm, as if to remind himself daily of things David had spent his entire adult life trying to forget.

  “As night follows day, death follows life,” the pastor said. “We are all leaves on the Tree of Life, which replenish each year. We who remain can mark this moment by loving one another and doing our own part to make the Tree stronger.”

  Beth brushed away Deacon’s exploring fingers and dabbed a tear with a tissue. “She was strong.”

  David squeezed her hand. Yes, Emily was. She’d been the calm center of his world at the commune and later at the institution where Dr. Klein had treated them. Without Emily, their scattered little tree was even weaker.

  Some fundamental stress had built up in her over the years, or she’d just snapped one day. If she hadn’t been strong enough to fight it, whatever it was, then quite possibly none of them were.

  “May the Lord bless you and keep you,” the pastor said. “May the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.”

  While the mourners prayed, David again drifted into the past.

  He didn’t know the name of the place where the adults had brought him, which he’d guessed was some kind of hospital. Since the sheriff’s deputy led him out of the Temple, David’s world had been a blur of strange people asking him questions and shuttling him from place to place. Now he wore pajamas all day and took a pill called Prozac and had to talk to a man named Dr. Klein about how he was feeling.

  He hadn’t seen his sister and friends since they’d arrived here, but today, the psychiatrist had good news. They were all allowed to go to the rec room. A large space with Ping-Pong tables, board games, and the same white walls. There, he found Angela sitting at a table, glowering over a puzzle.

  Hunching his shoulders to make himself as small as possible, David sat in the opposite chair. There were other people in the room, all teenagers in pajamas except for a big woman wearing a uniform. He wanted his sister to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay.

  He scanned the room one last time for threats. “Hi.”

  Angela didn’t respond as she fitted a piece. When finished, the puzzle would make a picture of dogs playing on a beach as if they were people.

  He leaned in to murmur, “Are you okay?”

  Angela spun another piece in her fingers, her face a mask of frustration. “I don’t know who to be mad at. Maybe it’s you.”

  David sank even lower. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  Emily, Deacon, and Beth entered the room. David smiled at them and ventured a wave. They pulled up chairs around the table.

  “They think we’re crazy,” Beth said. “Like what happened is our fault.”

  David struggled to hold back a surge of tears, another round in a losing battle he’d been fighting ever since the police officers had brought him here. “I’m just twel
ve. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Angela glared at him. “You didn’t?”

  “You didn’t,” Deacon assured him. “None of us did. We’re alive, that’s all.”

  “We aren’t supposed to be,” Emily said.

  “The world isn’t supposed to be here either,” Deacon pointed out.

  “Nobody died,” David said. “They’re all in a different hospital.”

  His friends said nothing, pretending to be interested in Angela’s puzzle. Beth picked up a piece and pressed it into its proper place.

  “When I came out of my hiding spot,” he added, “everybody was gone.”

  Beth’s hand froze as she reached for another piece. “They…”

  “You don’t know anything, Dave,” Angela growled. “You were hiding.”

  “I was scared.”

  “I didn’t see much either,” Emily said. “My mom locked me in a storage shed. I could only see outside through gaps in the boards. Just…”

  Angela eyed her. “Just what? What did you see?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing.”

  Beth shuddered. The puzzle piece she was holding dropped to the tabletop, seemingly forgotten. “They… Everybody’s dead.”

  “That’s not true,” David said.

  “I was with Mom when she died,” Angela said. “Where were you again?”

  “You’re a liar!” He leaped to his feet. The chair tilted to crash against the floor. “She’s not dead! Stop saying everybody’s dead and that it’s my fault!”

  Across the room, the other kids cringed or paced. The nurse locked eyes with his. Heat bloomed in his cheeks.

  “Sorry,” David said.

  “Do you need a time-out?” the woman said.

  “I’ll be good.” He sat down, shivering.

  Emily wrapped her arms around him. He gaped at the puzzle, seeing not the materializing picture but the empty spaces that riddled it.

  “If they’re gone, it’s not your fault,” she murmured. “If they’re gone, they’re across the black sea now. They’re with the Spirit.”

  “I want my mom.” He covered his face and wept. “I want to go home.”

  Angela said, “If they’re with God, then maybe that’s who we should be mad at.”

  The remainder of the funeral service saw a parade of Emily’s family and friends stand behind the pulpit to share stories about her. David listened with interest, learning about the life she’d led after leaving the institution. Otherwise, he stayed seated, doubting they wanted to hear his own stories. When her husband, Nick, went up to talk about how important she’d been to him and their children, the man broke down so completely he had to be escorted back to his seat, a heartbreaking sight. The mourners sang a final hymn, and the pastor turned over Emily’s soul to God.

  After the service was over, the organ played, family members carried her casket to the waiting hearse, and David needed a stiff drink.

  Outside, Beth coughed on the smoky air. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery.”

  David reached her Mercedes first and climbed into the front passenger seat. “Do you still have that flask?”

  Beth started the car but let it idle to allow the other mourners to leave the parking lot first. “In my purse.”

  He unscrewed the cap and took a long belt before passing it to Deacon.

  “I still don’t understand.” His friend tilted his head back to drink and sighed. “Why she did it.”

  “She was the last person I ever would have expected to do it,” Beth said. “Back when we knew her, nothing ever seemed to get her down. In her new life, she was surrounded by people who loved her. She volunteered for groups helping battered women and abused children. She had plenty to live for.”

  “Maybe the reason is something ordinary. Like she found out she had cancer, or her husband was abusing her.”

  “I don’t think so. Whatever got her, it started in her core. The anniversary of the Medford Mystery is coming up in just a few weeks, and this year is a big one. Fifteen years. I think that’s significant. People living with trauma often have what’s called an anniversary reaction.”

  David sighed. “Can we do this later? Just drive.”

  “We took it slow for you,” Beth said. “Now we’re going to talk.”

  He gripped his head in his hands. “What difference will it make?”

  “If you don’t like us talking, then don’t listen,” Deacon said. “And if you didn’t want to talk, why did you take the front seat next to Beth?”

  “Because children sit in the back,” David answered. “Plus, I didn’t want us getting in an accident because you two were making out.”

  He wanted to say a lot more about what he thought of Deacon fooling around during the chapel service, but he didn’t. In fact, he regretted what he’d already said as soon as the words flew from his mouth. But his friends only laughed.

  “Sorry, that was rude,” he said anyway, as if they’d scolded him.

  “No, I loved it.” Deacon grinned. “It’s nice to see the old Dave again.”

  Outside, it was raining ash. Beth sprayed her windshield with fluid and turned on the wipers, producing a gray smear. Then she shifted and backed into the parking lot before driving off toward the funeral. “Boys, we’re getting off track again. I assume you both got a letter, and that’s why you’re here?”

  “ ‘Dear Deacon, I’m sorry. I couldn’t fight it anymore.’ ”

  “Same here. David?”

  “About the same,” David said.

  “What was different about yours?”

  He tossed his hands. “For God’s sake.”

  “Beth is a psychologist,” Deacon said, adding, “which I hope is working.”

  Beth shot a look at him in her rearview. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know what they say. The most messed-up people become psychologists so they can find out what’s wrong with themselves.”

  Beth chuckled. “I’m the sanest person in the world, Deek.” She glanced at David. “Come on, tell us.”

  “I hope you’re not charging me by the hour.” He sighed. “She said she loved me. That’s the only difference.”

  Beth nodded as if she’d expected this. “She always did.”

  “There wasn’t any way.” He crossed his arms and gazed out the window at the flakes of ash fluttering out of the gray sky. “What happened isn’t my fault.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” she agreed. “But there might have been a way.”

  David said, “I wanted to put everything behind me.”

  His words hung in the air like a confession. He’d sworn to reunite with Emily after they left the foster system but had never made any real effort. Thanks to Dr. Klein’s therapy, he’d woken up a little stronger each day, a little more in control. A part of him understood that if he saw Emily again, she would bring the past with her, which might drag him back down into the dark place. The hardest thing about escaping a cult wasn’t leaving but making sure it had left you.

  Whenever he thought about finding Emily or any of the other survivors, his mind put up one roadblock after another. Tomorrow became I’ll do it after I’m settled in my new job became I really should do that sometime. He was busy, always busy, with too much going on to commit to something as significant as reconnecting, and the more time passed, the more daunting it became until he’d stopped thinking about it altogether.

  Then Emily died to remind him that besides Angela, Claire, and his children, these people remained the closest thing to family he had left.

  Hot, dry winds blew the ash of ancient forests across the cemetery as Emily’s body descended into the ground. The sun was a yellowish disc in the gray sky.

  A reception at a local restaurant had been scheduled to follow the funeral. A few more hours, and David could go home.

  He already had his exit planned out. He’d tell Beth and Deacon this was a sign they should stay in each other’s lives. He’d promise to keep in touch and propose ways they c
ould do it, perhaps an annual retreat somewhere to talk and catch up. Then he’d stop thinking about it.

  Old wounds never really healed. They opened again at the slightest cut. He’d never even told Claire about his years with the Family of the Living Spirit. How could he tell her about the nightmare he’d survived? Harder still would be explaining the joys. The raw happiness he’d experienced before it all went bad. How even now, after all these years, he still missed the Family. People only knew the stories about the murders, mass suicide, mutilations, and how everyone disappeared. They didn’t know that before Red Peak, the Family was a happy, safe community of people who’d simply wanted God in their lives every day, not just on Sundays.

  Shortly after David had left the foster system, he’d met Claire in a trauma counseling group. She’d shared her story about her parents’ divorce and how her stepfather sexually abused her as a child. David told them that his parents had divorced due to his father’s infidelity, and his mother had moved them to another state to join a church, where he’d suffered a different type of abuse. Not a full description of the disease, but the symptoms were the same.

  Over coffee, he and Claire discovered they both felt out of control, anxious, worthless, easily startled, and plagued by depression. Both were workaholics and prone to addictive behaviors. He couldn’t believe this intelligent and stunning woman was spending time with him. They saw themselves in such a negative light that they were surprised at their mutual attraction. A relationship with another person living with post-traumatic stress disorder presented obvious risks, but at least they understood each other’s demons.

  Six months later, they were married. They didn’t know it at the time, but Alyssa, their daughter, was already on the way.

  At the time, he’d started work as part of a security team hired by a cult deprogrammer operating in San Francisco. The deprogrammer achieved positive results with two out of three cultists, but the methods troubled David. Civil rights issues aside, he risked arrest for kidnapping. He worried whether the ones they saved were true successes, whether they came away from the experience possessing real freedom of choice. And for every cult member they lost, their relations with their family—the only lifeline they had to return to a life over which they had control—was severely damaged.