Chapter 10
Ten
Ayla
I t didn't take long for Callah to return to our room. She'd seen me run out of the dining hall, she'd said, so she'd eaten as fast as she politely could. I loved her for it, knowing this was the only support she could give.
"Peter Morgan," I said, explaining my rushed departure.
Her shoulders slumped as my words sank in. "So the Elders chose for you?"
All I could do was nod, yet my mind was still on that one hint of hope. I didn't want to say anything, though. The idea was too insane. It would be proof of the Devil in my mind. If anyone heard me, I'd be immediately hauled off to spend the rest of my days in quarantine like my mother had.
And yet, this was Callah. For ten years, we'd shared our secrets. For a decade, we'd whispered about things we knew better than to discuss. She and Meri had even encouraged me to keep going to the library, hanging on the stories I'd brought back from that forbidden place.
"Callah?" I tried, but my words failed me before any more could come out.
She lifted her pale green eyes to meet mine. "I heard Peter Morgan's last wives were never allowed out of their rooms. He always acts like such a kind man, but I heard Ms. Lawton talking about how he'd punished Mrs. Worthington."
"When did he do that?" I gasped.
"During my last flowering," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed, "I was in the laundry, washing my cloths. Ms. Lawton was talking to Mrs. Worthington. They said he'd been angry because Mrs. Worthington hadn't been able to save his last wife. She was a poor healer and he'd punished her. It sounded like Ms. Lawton was treating Mrs. Worthington's wounds, but I couldn't see them to be sure."
I just grunted. "It's a shame I couldn't be a widow like Ms. Lawton."
"You'd have to marry first," Callah countered. "And would spending the rest of your days in the girls' hall really be any better?"
"Yes!" I snapped, stopping myself before I could take my fear out on her. "Yes, Callah. I think raising children would be a lot better than what Meri's going through right now."
"I think they like to hurt us," Callah breathed.
That made my eyes jump up. "Who?"
"Men."
All I could do was murmur in agreement, because she had a point. I'd seen husbands laugh as they slapped their wives to the floor in the dining hall. I'd heard men bragging about the bruises they'd left. It was as if our pain was their entertainment - and sex was no better.
All girls knew consummation would be painful. Our duty was to suffer through it to accept our husband's seed. In class, it had been explained how the hymen would tear, our bodies would be bruised, and our muscles strained. That was our punishment for Eve's decision.
But for men, the act was pleasurable. They sought it out. Some men would even try to breed with unattended girls, which was why we weren't allowed far from our rooms without a companion. It was why my father had been upset to hear I'd walked across the compound on my own.
I simply didn't know what difference it made. If a man decided to force himself on me, I could report it and demand marriage to him so I could save my reputation. How was that any different from marriage, except the consummation came first?
Because my husband would force himself on me too. If I said I didn't want to have a child, he'd simply beat me until I changed my mind. If I tried to resist, he had the right to hold me down and plant his seed in my body anyway. No matter what, I would be tortured. Eventually, I'd become pregnant. When that happened, the best I could do was pray the baby turned in time and was small enough to emerge without destroying my body in the process.
And all of this made me think I might be safer on my own. Oh, I knew the surface was a dangerous place. I was well aware the heathens and wild men would be no better. The difference was the surface was a much bigger place. Without anyone to demand my presence, maybe I could hide?
Reaching over, I found the aged drawing my mother had made. Slowly, I unfolded the brittle paper. There, scrawled across the page as if she'd been in a hurry, was the utopia Tiesha had imagined for us. Large trees obscured all but a few tops of buildings. A winding path made its way into a gap in the wall, which must've been some kind of entrance.
This, she'd told me, was the real entrance to Heaven. It was where we'd be safe.
I chuckled at the thought, and then thrust the paper out towards Callah. "Keep this?"
Her hand reacted, grasping the edge, but confusion controlled her face. "Your mother's drawing?"
"She said it was the real Heaven," I explained. "Since marriage is Hell, and I know my husband would never let me see it, then you should keep it until your birthday."
"Ayla..."
But a twisted idea was taking root in my mind. I simply couldn't shake it, and with the clock ticking, I had to make my decision. I also really needed help, and since the Righteous had stolen Meri away, Callah was the only friend I had left.
"Callah?" I asked. "If I say something, do you think you can pretend you never heard it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking, Ayla?"
"What if I was banished?"
Her breath rushed out. "You'd die!"
"I'm going to anyway," I reminded her. "Do you really think I'll survive Peter Morgan for long?"
"Longer than you would with Reynold Saunders," she replied, doing her best to smile at the weak joke.
Granted, it was also true. "True, but Peter will kill me just as dead."
She grumbled under her breath, proving she had nothing to come back with. "Ayla, I don't want you to die."
"But what if I could live?" I asked, starting to embrace this idea. "Callah, what if I could figure out how to live on the surface? I know medicine. I could heal myself if I got hurt."
"Not if a Dragon shot you with an arrow!"
"But I could hide," I countered. "I don't have to live with the heathens, the wild men, or the Dragons, right? I could lose myself on the Earth, survive on the plants that grow up there, and maybe even make us that farm we wanted."
She huffed something almost like a laugh. "Wouldn't that be nice? But it won't work. We both know that."
"I'd still have control of my life," I pointed out.
"No," she corrected. "You'd have control of your death. Ayla, if you don't marry Peter, they'll just assign you to someone else. If you act too defiant, they'll send you to quarantine!" She grunted. "Most likely, they'll marry you off to Peter first and then send you to quarantine."
"Or what if I refuse?" I asked. "I mean, they asked Meri if she agreed to her marriage. She said she did. What if I say no?"
Callah shook her head. "It won't work."
"I have to do something!" I wailed.
"I know," she breathed, setting aside my mother's picture to come sit beside me. "Oh, Ayla, I know. It's just that there's nothing to be done."
"There has to be."
Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she hugged me from the side. "But I don't want you to die. Besides, Meri said it was already getting better after only three days. Maybe it's only the first week that's so bad? I mean, you like cooking, right?"
"Well enough," I admitted.
"You enjoy learning," she pressed. "And what is becoming a wife if not learning a new stage in your life?"
"It's servitude!"
She murmured, the sound neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me. "But it's a thing to learn. If you can't have your books, then at least that might keep your mind busy?"
"I know how to cook," I reminded her. "I know how to clean, do laundry, mend clothes, and all of our daily chores. I don't need to learn any of that. What I need is a way to not get married."
Callah turned so she was sitting sideways, facing me. "Ayla, this is our lot. It's a woman's place."
"It's not!"
"It is."
I pushed out a heavy breath. "But there has to be more."
"And there is - for men," she replied. "Not for us. Our duty is to care for our husbands and children. Our sole purpose is to create the next generation of the Righteous so that one day our great-great-grandchildren might live up above. We must prove our faith to the Lord so He will win back the Earth for us."
"I just don't understand why we have to suffer for someone else's mistakes," I admitted.
"Me either," she said. "That doesn't change anything, though. Ours is not to wonder why."
"I know," I groaned.
"But," she went on in the same calm tone, "the only irredeemable sin is suicide."
"Because we cannot repent the sin." I nodded to show I knew that.
For a long moment, she just looked at me. There was sadness in those green eyes of hers. Her gaze was intense, as if she was trying to memorize my face.
"Ayla, I don't want you to die. I don't!" Then she pulled in a breath. "I also know that's our lot in life too. One way or another, we will end up dead. So the way I see it, if you're sent to your death, then it's not suicide. Not even if you do something to deserve the punishment. It's still simply dead, Ayla."
My breath hung and I looked up, finding her gentle gaze waiting. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she breathed. "Because you're right. We're going to die. We all know we will. One of our children will be too big, turned the wrong way, or pull us apart in the birthing. We will die to serve the Righteous, so is it really wrong to think about serving in another way?"
"What way?" I asked, feeling my heart start to move again.
"By reclaiming the world. Ayla, if Eve could damn us to this level of suffering, who's to say God isn't waiting for someone to undo her sin?" She made a face. "Not undo, since that's impossible, but maybe He's wanting a different sacrifice to balance it?"
"Like making a farm?" I asked.
She shrugged. "The Bible says nothing like that."
"But God is good," I insisted.
"That's what they say," she agreed. "He's also supposed to be kind, though, and none of this feels very kind."
"It feels hopeless."
"Yeah," she agreed. "And the Devil rewards his minions. The same minions who currently live in the sunlight above."
For a long moment, the pair of us sat in silence, letting the truth of her words hang between us. All my life, I'd been told I had no options, but here in the privacy of our tiny room, my hope was growing just a little more.
"But I don't want to serve the Devil..." I finally tried.
Callah reached over to clasp my hand. "Doesn't a shepherd go first to protect the flock?"
"Huh?"
"In the Good Book," she said, "they talk a lot about shepherds. Someone has to guard the flock. Someone has to make sure the place is safe. Ayla, how can you know if this idea is a bad one or if it's God pushing you? What if it's a sign?"
"What if I die?" I asked.
"Then you would not be killing yourself," she said. "You would be trying, and is that not what the rest of us are doing? We're trying to survive the husbands we'll be assigned. We're trying to survive the children we'll bear. We're trying to survive the punishment He has given us. Why can't this idea of yours be the same?"
"So you think I should get banished?" I asked.
"No," she assured me. "But I can see the light in your eyes as you talk about it. It's the same look you get when you tell us about the books. Ayla, if there's anyone in this compound who could survive on the surface, I truly believe it's you. I also believe that if you try to actually survive up there, then even if you're killed, it won't be an irredeemable sin. So if this is what you have to do..."
"Will you take care of Meri?" I begged.
The smile Callah gave me was sad. "Always," she promised. "Just swear to me you'll send word back if you're still alive?"
"I'll find a way," I assured her.
"But what?" she asked.
My eyes jumped around my room, looking for some inspiration. "Um..." And they landed on the folded piece of paper which held my mother's drawing. "Something yellow."
"How?" she asked next.
Yeah, and that was the hard part, but I was liking this idea more and more. "The hunters, Callah! They come and go. If I'm alive, I'm sure I'll be able to send them back with something yellow, right? Something to give to you."
"And do you really think they'd do that?"
I felt a smile teasing my lips. "No, but if I'm living on the surface, I wouldn't need a man's permission anymore, right? All I have to do is use them to get it inside."
Which made Callah's eyes light up. "And maybe you can do it before my own wedding? Because I don't want to marry Reynold Saunders. I don't want to be stuck with a man worse than Peter Morgan!"
"Somehow," I promised her, "I will find a way." Then I leaned back and pushed out a dry laugh. "Oh, Callah. If only it was that easy."
"I know," she agreed as our momentary daydream began to crumble around us. "There's no way they'd banish a woman. It happens to men, but rarely. If a woman acts out, there are ways to retrain us - but if you end up in quarantine, I'll find a way to visit."
"They won't let you. They don't want the Devil's influence to spread."
"Or," she said, going on as if I hadn't spoken, "maybe I'll join you there. We can have rooms side by side. If we yell loud enough, we can even talk. I mean, my mother's screams carried through the walls."
"Mine too," I agreed.
"And in quarantine," she pointed out, "they can't prevent us from our thoughts. They won't be able to stop us. We can be wild women down here, Ayla. If nothing else, it will mean our husbands will have to pick up after themselves!"
"Yes," I laughed, "they would if we were locked away."
And yet that was also a foolish fantasy. A big, fat lie. The reality wasn't nearly as easy, because Callah was right. Men were banished, never women. I also knew quarantine wouldn't spare my life. It might ease the burden of caring for a man I abhorred, but isolation and darkness weren't the salvation I truly longed for.
So I relented, "Or I can marry Peter Morgan."
"I'll braid your hair," she assured me. "We'll make you look like the most beautiful bride ever. Just as good as Meri did."
"A meek one," I grumbled. "A quiet one."
"A subservient one," she agreed. "The kind who figures out how to survive."