She ignored him, moved to the refrigerator, retrieving a pitcher of water, and filled a plastic cup, slowly locking eyes on the locked front door. He caught her gaze and followed it. What is wrong with this woman? Why can she not see the comfort and safety the community provides?
“Don’t even think about running, especially not now. They would kill you for sure. They won’t be able to hold back the soldiers. The entire council will be out for blood tonight,” he said. And my blood with it when they discover my failure with this one.
“Why are you here, Francis? Why us? Why can’t you take a different family of prisoners?”
Oh my dear, how I wish I had a choice. Francis shook his head and moved away from the window. Walking around the sofa, he sighed and sat heavily on the overstuffed cushions. He shrugged before leaning his head back. “Again, I am not a guard and you are not a prisoner.”
Laura forced a smug laugh. “So I can leave then? You won’t try to stop me?”
“You’re safe here.” He clenched his fist, letting it rest on his thigh. She was lucky he did not believe in the practices of some of the other mentors. It was probably his French upbringing, his reluctance to violence, and maybe the distant thoughts of his own mother long gone. Besides, she was a strong woman, and Francis knew that barbaric methods would not work to win her over.
“I’m a prisoner. And you didn’t answer my question. Why us?” Laura asked, her tone changing.
“I was assigned to you. I am your mentor.”
“Who assigned you?”
“The Creators, of course. We never know why; it is just the way.” I wish I knew. What did I do to deserve this?
Laura looked away and left the room, taking the water and walking the hallway to a small bedroom. Francis followed her, keeping his distance. Katy was asleep. He watched as she lifted the blankets around the girl and tucked them in, leaving the cup on a nightstand. He turned to the window and saw the ominous shadows moving past the drawn curtains. He watched as Laura moved to the glass and drew back the curtain, then pulled back upon seeing the witnesses walking a silent sentry around the homes in the neighborhood.
He stiffened his jaw. “They are for our protection,” Francis said quietly from behind her, trying to sound reassuring.
“Protection? Or to keep me from leaving or from talking to the neighbors,” Laura protested. She turned and edged past him back into the living room, stopping in front of the door. Francis sighed and followed close behind her. He watched as she put her hand on the knob. “What would happen if I walked outside and went next door?”
Francis shrugged, knowing she would be killed before she reached the street. Maybe he should let her; end this struggle and take his chances with the council. “And why would you want to do that?”
She shook her head at him in frustration. He could see tears welling at the corners of her eyes—she was breaking.
“I don’t know… to borrow a cup of sugar. What does it matter?!” she said, her voice rising.
“I can send for anything you need; within reason, of course.”
With that, Laura finally burst into tears, her frustration peaking. He approached her, but she turned away and put up a hand. “Don’t even,” she shouted.
Francis backed away with his hands at his sides, his face showing sympathy but his mind smiling; this woman that put up the strong front was finally breaking. “You just don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” she shouted. “Why are they here?”
Francis frowned and turned his back to her, smiling when she could not see. He took several steps before pausing to look back. “They may kill us all for what happened today. That’s the law if a community turns against a Messenger,” Francis said wearily before moving to the dining table and sitting. He folded his hands in front of him and looked down. It was the first time he had allowed Laura to see real emotion from him, and not the optimistic look of an infomercial sales clerk. He would have to use this opportunity to bring her into the fold.
“If that’s the law, then why are we still alive?” she asked.
He would have to plan every word. Every bit would have to draw her in to convince her that their path was the only way, and anything else would mean death or a life of suffering. “They are in session. Our only hope is that the elders consider this an outside attack and not from within the walls of the communal,” Francis said in a low voice while looking down at his hands. “Might I bother you for some tea? You’ll find it in the pantry.” A simple request, would she oblige him?
Laura nodded and opened the cabinet door, removing a covered tin filled with tea bags. As she retrieved the kettle from the stove and filled it, she asked, “Who are the council?”
Francis sighed and looked up at her with serious eyes. “They are everything,” he said, the pitch of the salesman gone from his voice. “I’ve never seen them. I never will. They never come down.” He was not lying; in all the years he had been in the community, he’d never been allowed an audience with the Creators.
As far as Francis knew, they never visited the terrestrial planet and always stayed hidden from human eyes. He looked at her and pondered if she was ready and would be able to accept the truth should he tell her. There were arguments among the council that only children should be taken. It had been their way for centuries. Adults were deemed incompatible with the knowledge and would not accept the message; they
