The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2), Patricia Bell [e textbook reader .txt] 📗

gasped. “That poor girl has been thrown in the old chamber, and all the two of you can do is talk about her like she is nothing.”

“What can we do about it? God has spoken.”

“Well, sitting around here talking about it like her life does not matter, will do no good either.”

“Oh, stop it, Anna. It sure isn’t going to hurt her any.”

“What dungeon are you talking about anyway?” Snap, snap. “I’ve never heard of any such thing.”

“It was built into the house from the start. I hear tell there’s a secret passage and everything,” Mother Anna said through more snapping of peas.

The two others gasped. “What for?”

“I don’t know if it’s ever been used, but it’s there none-the-less.”

“You think that’s where they have her?”

“Thomas heard it from the girl’s own father. I’m sure . . .”

Malachi had heard enough. He walked into the house loudly to break up the conversation.

“Blessed evening, Malachi. Did you have a good day at market?” The women looked startled.

“Hot and tired. I just came home to grab a glass of water before loading the truck for tomorrow.”

Mother Anna stood and poured him a tall glass of water. The other two sat, one peeling potatoes, and the other snapping peas.

Malachi drank it down quickly. “Thank you, Mother Anna.” It was curiously quiet in the house for being almost dinner time. “Where are the younglings?”

“They are taking quiet time in their rooms,” Mother Anna said. “There was a quarrel, so we had a great solution. None of them will come out until they have resolved their differences.”

“I think they fell asleep.” Mother Ruth giggled.

“I must get to the storage and help Jonah. He will be waiting for me,” Malachi said impatiently and walked back out the door. As he exited the porch, the loaves of bread called to him. He grabbed one up and rushed off.

As he walked, he replayed the words the woman had spoken. A chamber? Abigail hadn’t been fleshed-out? A rush of urgency flowed through him. He needed to find her before the High Prophet . . .  He didn’t want to imagine what the man would do. He was capable of anything.

As Malachi rushed to the storage building, Jonah leaned against the outside of the building and waited for him. Malachi jogged up to him. There was no time to waste.

“I need you to cover for me.” Malachi was out of breath.

“Cover for you? For what reason?”

“I must find Abigail.” He hadn’t intended on telling Jonah the truth, but he hadn’t had the chance to think of a good enough lie either.

“What do you mean? She has been fleshed-out, no? Micah saw the elders take her away in the truck.”

“She has not . . . they took her . . . I don’t have time to explain, but I think I know where she is. I must go and see. I will be back as soon as I can.”

“Fine then, go. But if anyone comes and asks about you, I am not covering for you.”

“Tell them I never showed. I will take the blame.” He felt bad asking Jonah to lie for him, but Abigail’s life mattered. If it didn’t matter to anyone else, it did to him.

Jonah nodded. “Go quickly.”

Malachi turned and ran toward the back of the community to where he’d been taken once before, the home of the High Prophet. It was a good distance away, and the hot evening sun beat down on his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. The loaf of bread he’d stuffed in the front was sure to be soggy.

He slowed to a jog as his mind wandered. What was he doing? He was acting just like Jacob. Allowing his emotions to guide him. The mere fact that he cared about Abigail bothered him more than anything else. Malachi was not one to feel much emotion. He’d been the tough one all his life. The feeling he had now was new to him. Caring was a sign of weakness. Jacob was proof. His inability to control his emotions had gotten him killed. There was one that Malachi had cared about, but he would never allow himself to disclose those feelings to anyone. Marriage was not for them to choose.

But his feelings for Abigail were different. She was so young and helpless. He only wanted to protect her.

Malachi stopped and stared at the waning sun as it shed colors of red and orange into the evening sky. His resolve was fading, just like the sun. What could he do for her anyway?

Up ahead, the High Prophet’s huge house came into view. Electric white lights illuminated the immediate area to the front door. It was now or never. He had to make a choice. But as he contemplated his situation, a loud buzzing sound made him jump. He turned to see a long door lift from the bottom up as the inside came into view. Malachi searched for a place to hide. A large gray box stood just a bit away from the electric fence. He ran to it and hid behind.

A car backed out from the big door. The windows were darkened, but there was no question who it was. The High Prophet.

The car pulled onto the dirt road and rolled back behind the house. Where was it going? The gate was the other direction.

Malachi followed slowly, making sure to be careful not to be seen. Up ahead, the dirt road led to a gate at the back of the fence. He had no idea there was a back entrance to the community. Probably no one knew.

He watched the car drive off and then sat down next to the back of the house. Would he even be able to find her? Maybe he should just go back home. But first, he would rest for a moment. He sighed and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

Chapter 26 ― Abigail

Abigail sat slumped in the corner of the dark room,