I would leave the Northern Light with Jacob.
Over a month ago I’d mentioned that I wanted to travel with him. That was what I’d wanted, then—to spend more time with him. Now I wanted to get away. He’d never told me that he’d petitioned the Commission; however, one day at the lab, Brother Benjamin let it slip.
My plan was to leave with Jacob. I didn’t care where he took me. I didn’t care whether it was to Fairbanks for supplies—he did that often—or to another campus. I’d already deduced that the Eastern Light was Highland Heights. No matter whether it was the Western or Eastern Light, wherever we went had to be less remote than the circumpolar North.
Once Jacob flew me to another destination, my plan was simple: I’d find a phone and call for help.
As days and nights passed, I contemplated whom I would call. I considered my parents, Bernard, and Dylan. No matter how I looked at it, Dylan was the best possible alternative.
I recalled an Internet thread I’d found while researching The Light. It was about a woman who claimed to have been taken by a cult.
Even today that word sent shivers down my spine.
The woman on the thread claimed that the authorities didn’t believe she’d been held against her will. They claimed her story was tainted because she’d abused illegal drugs before her abduction. I hadn’t. I reasoned that my story would be more believable. And even if local authorities didn’t believe me, Dylan would, and he was a detective. More than that, I couldn’t wait to let him know that I was alive.
The last memory I had of my old life was from late October of last year.
As I sat in service and listened to Father Gabriel preach, it took all my control to smile, nod, and bow my head. What I really wanted to do was scowl and ask how he could do this to so many people—people who not only followed but also trusted him.
With each passing minute, the truth became clearer. I needed to get out of here!
CHAPTER 7
Sara/Stella
It was morning, and Jacob had already left for the hangar. He’d told me that he was heading to the Western Light and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. The pressure to gain freedom was mounting. With our breakfast dishes clean and more than an hour before I needed to report to the lab, I decided to take a walk. Each day the weather was warmer. Though I hoped the fresh air would help clear my head, I’d also become addicted to exploring and witnessing the community through my new perspective.
Each glimpse of the world around me showed a new paradigm. No longer did I see a bustling community. Now, as an investigative journalist, I saw things as they were. Our coffee shop and stores were simply warehouses, similar to the pole barn, divided by partitions and filled with only the supplies the Commission deemed necessary. The walls surrounding the community no longer served as our protection; they were our cage, designed to keep us all peacefully within.
I wondered whether they truly were necessary. After all, it wasn’t as if, on the edge of the circumpolar North, we followers had many options for leaving. Nevertheless, the walls made any notion of escape impossible.
I recalled from when Jacob and I had been sentenced to our temporary banishment at the pole barn that the only acceptable way to pass beyond the walls and the multiple gates was within a vehicle. No one walked away.
For that reason few people had access to vehicles. Primarily it was the chosen men and those followers who had clearance to work beyond the walls, those who needed to access areas such as the pole barn for supplies, the power plant, or the mill.
The world where I’d been forced to live became clearer with each passing day. Our buildings were mostly accessible by foot. Snowpack paths in the winter and hard dirt paths in the summer connected one to another. The apartments where we lived were closer to the temple and main buildings than those housing the non-chosen followers. While ours were in what looked like three-story barracks, theirs were in what resembled dorms on a run-down college campus. Each building was sufficient to protect people from the elements, not constructed for visual appeal. Since vehicles weren’t needed to get from housing to work or community centers, when not in use, they were parked away from the main cluster of buildings.