A few people cawed like peacocks, and everyone started talking, and Frida closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see all of them holding up their fists in agreement, knocking the air.
“We’ll just go back to the Millers’ house,” she whispered to Cal. “Just like before.”
He shook his head, as if that wasn’t an option.
“We have to,” she said.
“This is why I told you to stop,” he replied. He was still touching her protectively, but his voice was cold as the dead. “You fucked it up.”
“You think they’ll feel differently next week? Or next month?”
“Micah and I were working on a plan,” he said.
Frida was considering how to answer him when Micah whistled to shut everyone up. “Things are spinning out of control,” he said.
August nodded. “Let’s calm down.”
“I don’t want my sister and her husband to be fearful,” Micah said. He held up a hand.
“You think we’ll hurt them?” a man called out from behind Frida.
“Yeah,” Anika cried, “that’s your specialty.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Anika,” Fatima said. “Micah’s done a lot for the Land. For you especially. Don’t pretend like he hasn’t.”
“And he’ll do the most for them.” Anika pointed at Frida and Cal.
“Those two can’t just come in here and expect us to change everything for them,” Sheryl said.
The volume of the room began to rise once more
“Get them out!” Lupe yelled.
Micah tried to hold up his hand again to calm everyone, but it didn’t work. Frida felt the ceiling and the walls of the Church wobble and contract, as if she and Cal were about to get crushed from all sides. They had to get out of there. Sailor had that gun, but he couldn’t protect them against these people, this mob.
“Cal,” she said.
He was already pulling her out of the pew. Charles had tried to step in their path, but Cal pushed him hard, and he backed away. August had another man by the arm, holding him back from who knew what.
Betty made a retching sound. She was about to spit on them.
Cal pulled Frida down the aisle and toward the door. No one else tried to stop them.
On their way out, she saw that Sailor had his rifle up, aimed at the rest of the Land’s residents. How long before he turned the gun on her?
“Keep going,” Micah said from behind them. “Run.”
20
They rushed out of the Church, and Micah took the lead, running in front of them as if Cal and Frida were chasing him. They ran down that dusty path the rain had turned to clay, across the open soggy field, past the garden, and into the woods.
Cal was trying to remain placid even as his chest burned, even as he wanted to stop and catch his breath. He knew Frida had good intentions, she only wanted to be honest, but it was hard not to just let go of her hand. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut to save her life—to save the life of their child. He’d thought they were in this together. But no. God, she could be such a selfish brat.
Cal could tell Micah was nervous. It was his speed and silence that gave him away, his refusal to turn around to see if they were still behind him. It was as if he didn’t care that they might get lost trying to keep up with him. For Micah, it wasn’t about his sister, or the baby. Screw all that. Micah had to worry about his plan. It wouldn’t work if there was a revolt.
His plan. Talk about a euphemism. In the last few days, Micah had shown Cal the materials he was hoarding to make the bomb, hidden in the Church’s secret library. “Weapons and books,” Micah had said, grinning, “the perfect combination.” Once he got everything together, he said, August would do a test.
“We need to make sure they work,” he said. “Toni is adamant about that, as she should be.”
Cal had just listened and asked questions, considering everything from every possible angle. He would have to come up with a feasible alternative soon and convince Micah that his idea was shortsighted and should at least be delayed. In the meantime, he’d just let the man talk.
Now, in the dark, Micah stopped suddenly, and they almost ran into him. Cal had managed to hold on to Frida’s hand, though he couldn’t bear to look at her.
Micah pointed to the trunk, and Cal realized they were at the tree house. “You’ll wait there until dawn,” he said.
“And then what?” Frida said.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before,” Micah said.
“I thought some people would be happy about the baby after what happened here.”
Cal could feel her looking at him, and he turned. Even in the dark he thought he could see the line between her eyebrows deepen. She wanted him to respond.
“Up,” Micah said then, saving him.
It was cold and wet in the tree house, but there were blankets up there; they’d survive. Micah had lit a large candle, though he would extinguish it when he left. “You’re hiding, remember.”
“What are you going to tell them?” Cal asked.
Micah put a hand above the candle’s flame, as if seeking its warmth. “You’re better off not knowing.”