Then I heard Mitchell’s voice above the sound of the music in my headphones. “The world is so wicked!” He spoke so loudly that I couldn’t tune him out. “The world is so wicked. And Hollywood is the worst. Singers and movies stars are the greatest tool of the devil. We must learn to tune them out. Tune them out of our lives. Out of our ears. We must learn to keep ourselves pure from their evil influence. How can we put God in our hearts if we put the devil in our ears?”
I tried desperately to ignore him. I knew he was talking to me but I didn’t care. It was Christmas music, for heaven’s sake! How evil could that be?
He moved closer to me and raised his voice. “Sure, their songs are easy and they may seem to make us happy, but they will grease our way to hell! They will kill and defile us! They will bring evil into our hearts. We have to deny them, don’t we, Shearjashub?”
On and on he went. It was like listening to fingernails scratching down a chalkboard. He wouldn’t shut up. He was like a whiny preacher intent on saving a sinful soul.
“Those who enjoy the sounds of Hollywood are enjoying the sounds of hell.”
He jumped ahead of me to stand in my way, staring at me and not letting me pass. I returned his hard gaze, refusing to look away. For a moment, there was an unseen battle between us, a battle of souls and will.
You will do as I tell you! his eyes seemed to say.
I stared back at him. I will do it for now, but not forever. One day I will defeat you. One day, I’m going to win!
He seemed to grow a little darker, his lips tighter, his shoulders square. I will always be the master. You will always be the slave.
I dared to defy him only a moment longer before I had to look away.
I closed my eyes in sadness and frustration. As much as I wanted to just listen to the music, it wasn’t worth it. As much as I wanted to hear the beautiful sounds and enjoy the wonderful spirit that the songs of Christmas brought, I knew it was impossible. Mitchell wasn’t going to let me. He was going to make it more miserable to have the music than to not have it now. There was only one way to make him stop.
I took the headphones off and threw the radio away.
Mitchell watched me, then smiled an evil grin. We walked half a block in silence, then he took out his own radio, put the earphones in his ears, and started listening to the same music that I had been listening to.
I wanted to scream in frustration. I felt so betrayed. I felt so cheated. Barzee only laughed at me. She thought that I was such a fool. But at least Mitchell was not talking any longer.
We continued walking around San Diego. A couple blocks later, I saw a young man about my age. He was wearing a long-sleeved striped shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He wore dark sunglasses and had light-brown hair.
I watched him for a moment. (That was the only good thing about having to wear the veil; no one could tell if you were looking at them.) As I watched, I started thinking. I had never had a boyfriend. I had hardly even talked to boys. And though I was extremely shy, I had always looked forward to dating and having boyfriends. Like all young girls, I had dreamed of getting a new outfit and getting all dolled-up with my hair in curls and having makeup on! How exciting it would be to have a boy walk up to the front door with a bouquet of flowers just for me!
What if … what if … kept running through my mind.
About that time, we walked past a shop called Hustler. Mitchell tried the door, but it was locked. Disappointed, he turned and led us back to the fire swamp.
31.
Waiting for Disaster
Mitchell was nothing if not bold. I was constantly amazed by how brazen he was about the next kidnapping he was planning. He showed not a moment of fear or hesitation. If he ever thought he might get caught, he never showed it. And why should he? He had taken me. He’d been able to hide me just a few miles from my home. He’d been able to manipulate and lie his way out of every situation. Nothing in his experience gave him much reason to be afraid.
January 4—the day of the appointed kidnapping—finally arrived. When I woke up that morning, I felt like Judgment Day had come. But then I realized that this was worse. This wasn’t a day to judge the guilty; this was a day for the innocent to get hurt.
Mitchell went through his normal routine, all the time trying to hide his excitement. Just like on the day he had prepared to go down to take my cousin, he put on an air of heaviness and persecution. So hard to be a prophet. Such a burden to carry out the work of the Lord. So difficult to be the Chosen. Glancing at Barzee, he tried to display a bit of sadness or hesitation. But none of it was real. He was nothing but excited. He was like an animal that was overcome by the smell of blood. He was driven by lust and nothing else.
He spent the day checking and double-checking the things he would need to capture his next victim. Then he made an important announcement. “My next wife will be called Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz Rebeckah Isaiah,” he said.
Holy cow, I thought. That’s a worse name than Shearjashub.
“Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz was a son of Isaiah,” he explained.
Another boy’s name for your new wife! I wanted to say. What is going on inside your head?
“It means ‘plunder speedeth, spoil hasteth.’”