Redemption

Dusk settled in gradually as Beth drove, the colour seeping out of the air around her until only a dull grey remained. Streetlights were almost nonexistent in this rural part of the world, and she could only guess that the forms in the fields she passed were bales of hay. Not silent creatures, ready to burst up out of the darkness and swallow her and Hannah up. She glanced over at her friend, whose back was turned to her where she slept, half-sitting and half-lying, in the passenger seat. The soft drone of the engine lulled Beth into a trance, the shadows turning the scenery around her into a semblance of what it was. Only the road was clear to her in the headlights. The same straight, white line, framed by blackness on either side. That line could lead her into eternity if she followed it long enough, she thought, her eyes drifting closed. She'd been fighting sleep for the last half hour, but had willed her eyes to stay open.

She was dreaming of her grandmother's quilt, wrapped snugly around her, the different patterns in the various blocks of fabric swirling together.

Her eyes flew open.

"Hannah," she almost shouted, and her friend groaned from the passenger seat.

"We need to pull over for the night. I'm falling asleep."

The problem was, they didn't really know how close the nearest motel was.

They weren't exactly sure where they were.

Somewhere between Maine and Vermont.

The point had been to get away from it all, Hannah had explained a week ago. Less than a month ago, Hannah's son had been stillborn. The subject was now taboo, and Beth knew her friend wanted to get away from anyone who would mention it. Hannah's boyfriend had moved out, the couple broken and blaming each other for the death. For not seeing the signs, for having something in their lifestyle or family history that could have caused the stillbirth.

After pulling over for about five minutes to rest her eyes, Beth started the engine again. Hannah was even more exhausted than she was, so she couldn't drive. But they had to find a place soon. She started driving again, so tired she felt nauseous.

It was pitch dark when she saw the sign, white letters materializing brightly out of the darkness: "Redemption, 5 miles" it read.

A few minutes later she saw the town lights up ahead. "Thank God," she said, yawning.

The next few minutes were a chaotic turmoil involving a loud raking sound, the squealing of tires on pavement and the women's screams as the car made a 360 degree turn and slammed into a fence.

A woman's soft humming woke Beth from a dreamless sleep. Her entire body ached.

"Where am I?" she asked.

The woman lifted her bonneted head from her needlework.

"Redemption," she smiled.

Hannah had been more badly injured than she was, and the old woman led Beth to an adjoining room where her friend lay. Her face was bruised where the air bag had hit her left side. She'd been slumped low in her seat when they crashed, and her ribs were probably bruised as well.

Another bonetted woman was helping Hannah sit up to eat some soup.

"Delicious, thank you," Hannah said after a few spoonfuls.

After the women had left, Beth said they should go to the nearest hospital.

Hannah shook her head. "That's not for 20 miles," she said. "The only clinic in town is closed. One of the women here is a nurse, and she's coming to see us soon."

"Oh...tomorrow, then," Beth said.

The day was bright and sunny, and Beth made her way to the kitchen. They were in a cabin a that had a wood stove and no electricity, it seemed.

Beth did a double take as she saw five people walk past the kitchen window, roped together at the waist.

"What the..."

"It's their punishment," a woman's voice said from behind her. "They agree to it of their own free will. They walk around town offering their services to whoever needs it. Gardening, cooking, piling wood. Whatever someone needs help with."

"What are they being punished for?"

"Different things. Little Robert there disrespected his father. Muriel was found to have exaggerated the good health of a cow she sold."

Beth shook her head and walked past the woman to Hannah's room.

"These people are nuts, Hannah. It's like some kind of cult. We've gotta get out of here."

"No, they're nice," Hannah said, taking a sip of liquid from a mug.

"What are you wearing?" Beth asked, pulling down the blanket that covered her friend. "They've put you in one of those shapeless smocks?" She shook her head. This situation was getting worrisome.

"They had to," Hannah said, irritation in her voice. She sipped from the mug again, and set it down on the the bedside table. "My clothes were torn. We were in an accident, remember? They had to cut off my blouse."

"Hmph," Beth muttered.

It turned out there was no clinic in town. The nurse made house visits, and there was a doctor who lived in another town that could be called, if need be.

But Beth couldn't find a phone, and her cell phone had no signal. Hannah couldn't even find her phone, and didn't seem too worried about it.

"Excuse me," Beth asked a man who'd walked in, wearing a dark suit and hat. The bonnetted women bowed slightly before him. "Where's the nearest police station?"

"Hello, you must be Beth. I'm Jonah, the mayor of Redemption," he said, extending his hand to shake hers.

She didn't take it.

"Thank you for letting us stay here and all, but I'd like to get to my car now, and see about getting Hannah to a hospital."

"Oh, your car won't make it far," he laughed, and explained that it was pretty much totalled. Someone was working on it, he added.

"Well, I need to get to a phone...do you have phones here?"

No one answered her question, and instead she was ushered back to Hannah's room, where the "nurse" was taking her pulse. A makeshift sling had been made for Hannah's left arm, which had slammed into the car door upon impact.

"A few more days of bed rest," the nurse said, and packed up her things to leave.

"We need a doctor," Beth was saying, but no one was listening.

After lunch, she laid down a bit to stop the room from spinning. She'd hit her head in the crash, and wondered if she had a slight concussion. But she couldn't just stay in the cabin all day.

No one was available to take her to her car, it seemed, so she started walking away from the cabin to find it herself.

"Hello there," she said to an elderly woman in a black dress and veil. The woman looked at her, spooked, as if Beth was a ghost that had snuck up behind her. Beth was taken aback by the woman's vivid blue eyes, that seemed to look right though her, into some other realm. She noticed the cane then. The woman was blind.

"I'm sorry to have startled you," she said. "But do you know...which way I would go to the nearest garage?"

The woman's expression turned from shock to puzzlement, and she cocked her head, as though listening to a voice only she could hear.

"I'm afraid I don't," the old woman said, her voice eerily high-pitched. "But all is as it should be," she added, nodding emphatically.

"Excuse me?" Beth said, then realized the woman was probably senile, or hard of hearing as well as blind.

"Um...thank you," she stammered, and headed down the road.

As she rounded a corner she saw three children in the middle of the cobblestone road. One girl was jumping rope while the other two held either either side of of it, chanting a song.

"Sarah had a rabbit, and it ran so fast, right through the pasture and out past the town. Out past the town, into the forest, into the forest, and chased by hounds. Chased by hounds, the rabbit was run down. Poor little rabbit, never to be found."

As creepy as these children were, with their hard stares and dark nursery rhyme, Beth asked, "Can you kids tell me where my car might be? I know someone is working on it, but I don't know who or where."

The skipping rope dropped to the ground abruptly, and the three kids stared at her condescendingly, as if she did not have the right to interrupt their game. Did they have any respect for adults at all? She wondered.

They were staring at her clothes. She looked down at her t-shirt and jeans, and realized how odd she must look wearing them compared to the plain, grey dresses and bonnets the females of that town wore.

She waited a few beats, but none of them ventured a response.

"Pfft," she said, shaking her head, and walked past them. One of girls whispered something as she walked by.

"What was that?" she asked, stopping and looking the girl right in the eye.

"You must ask Jonah what to do," the child said, her authoritative tone ludicrous in her childish voice.

"Jonah. Yeah, well, where might he be?"

The children pointed straight ahead, to a nondescript, white building with a steeple.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that."

The people looked to be Amish, or of some belief system similar to the Amish. Their plain clothes, the bonnets, the lack of electricity. She walked into the church, the interior dark. A few candles were lit up ahead, near the altar, where a man knelt, praying.

She stopped at a pew close to the altar, waiting politely until he got up.

Jonah materialized out of the darkness, his smile wide.

"Well, hello, Beth," he said. "I'm surprised to see you out and about so soon after your accident. Bed rest might be preferable in the long run, however. You'll find we have everything you need her to keep you comfortable until you and your friend have healed. What may I do for you?"

"Jonah, I need to find our car. I really just need to see it, to see what damage has been done, and to try to..." she was going to say that she wanted to find a way to a phone or police station, but hesitated. She had the feeling they didn't want her to leave just yet. But why? Maybe I'm being ridiculous, she thought. I probably have a concussion, and am not thinking straight. Her head did ache and the room was spinning slightly. The car crash was just last night, she thought. Why don't I relax? I can find the car tomorrow.

Something wasn't right, she felt it. But she was tired. Her head hurt.

"Micheal, can you help this young lady back to the cabin? She's not well. Come on, Beth."

Jonah and the young man named Michael, who'd been praying earlier, walked her to the front of the church.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Beth. I want you to get all the rest you need." Jonah smiled and patted her on the back. She followed Michael back to the cabin.

The next day she felt rested, and decided to change her tactic. Instead of raising suspicions by questioning everything, she would do as they asked, smiling as she did so. And she'd stake out the town.

She was going to get Hannah and herself out of here.

The sooner the better.

The first thing she did was put on the grey smock that lay at the bottom of her bed when she woke up. A white bonnet lay beside it, and she put it on, walking into the kitchen. She nodded a good morning to the old woman cooking oatmeal for their breakfast.

"I'm so happy you put on the dress and bonnet," Tabitha said as she stirred the oatmeal. "You look like one of us now. You'll fit in much better. For the time you'll be here, of course," she added.

"Of course," Beth said, smiling as radiantly as she could manage.

After breakfast, she told the woman she was going to go check out the garden in the backyard. Tabitha looked unsure at first, but finally nodded.

"See you later, Hannah." She looked at her friend from the doorway.

Hannah opened her eyes drowsily and mumbled something, then went back to sleep.

Walking through the backyard, Beth stepped over rows of planted vegetables and then walked back up to the road. The silence was broken only by the low cooing of a mourning dove from somewhere above.

A man gazed sternly at her from his front porch as she passed him, Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Would he tell her to go back to the cabin? But he said nothing. She smiled and nodded, as she'd seen the other women in town do when greeting someone. He gave a slight nod, but still looked at her as though she might not be worthy of breathing the same air as him.

She decided it was safer to stay off the road, out of sight. A field of corn came to her rescue, and she walked through it along the road, the corn stalks hiding her from view.

A farmhouse lay a few feet away, and as she neared it the sound of someone sobbing halted her in her tracks.

Where was it coming from?

She held her breath and listened more carefully. The sound had stopped.

Must have been my imagination, she thought, and started walking through the field again.

There it was again, quieter, but definitely someone crying. As she moved some high corn stalks out of her path, she caught sight of a wooden structure, the size of an outhouse. Someone was crying in an outhouse. Lovely.

She approached the structure cautiously, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. The sound had stopped and now she could only hear the hum of insects and chirping of birds.

"Hello?" she asked, standing a few feet away from the door. "Is anyone in there? Are you okay?"

Nothing.

She walked around the structure and noticed a window high up, near the roof. The structure was at least ten feet high, and there was no way anyone inside could have looked out. It didn't look like your typical outhouse. First of all, it was absurdly high, and secondly, it was shaped like a triangle, the roof peaked at the top. Strange engravings were carved into the wood, she noticed as she peered more closely.

She got closer and pressed her ear to the wood. There it was again: someone was sobbing within, but very quietly this time.

She knocked on the door, and heard a gasp from inside.

"Can I come in?" she asked. Something just didn't seem right here.

"You mustn't," came the whispered reply, followed by sniffling.

Beth tried the door, and to her surprise, it opened. Inside was an empty room with a dirt floor, and more engravings on the inside wall. A woman in her 40's or 50's cowered in a far corner, her eyes watching Beth like a frightened animal.

"What's your name?" Beth asked, unsure of how to approach this woman. She looked almost feral, like an animal that has been removed from socializing with other animals and people for so long that it could lash out at any moment in fear.

"Margaret," the woman said in a loud whisper. She seemed to relax a little. "I haven't seen you before. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Beth. I'm not from here. My friend and I had a car accident. We've been here two days. My friend is recuperating in a cabin, not far from here."

Margaret looked stricken as she listened to Beth, and she shook her head and turned to face the wall.

"What's wrong? Why are you in here by yourself? I heard you crying. Why don't you come out. We'll get you back to your family and.."

"No!" the woman said, spinning around to face Beth. "This is the chamber of penitence, no one can leave for forty days."

"What? That's insane. You can't be serious. That door was open, you could just leave."

Margaret shook her head.

"What about food? And...going to the bathroom?" Margaret gave her a puzzled look. "The outhouse. Urinating. Et cetera." Did these people not know what a bathroom was?

"They bring food and water twice a day. They bring a pan." She motioned towards a corner where a metal bedpan sat. "But...I'm hungry," she added. "They won't come back now until sunset. They didn't bring much to eat this morning. Or drink." She looked at the floor, tears spilling down her face.

"Margaret, I don't know what they make you people believe, but this place is not normal. You know it, and I know it. This is a cruel punishment, and inhumane."

"But I...it's because I didn't attend one of Jonah's meetings. It's obligatory, unless you are sick."

"Forty days for that? You people really are brainwashed. I'm getting out of here, Margaret, and you're coming with me. After we get Hannah out."

She stepped towards Margaret and took her hand. At first the woman wouldn't budge from her spot in the corner, but she eventually let Beth pull her towards the door. She wasn't even halfway out when she started screaming.

Beth pulled her back in. "Are you crazy? Do you want to draw attention to us?"

Margaret pointed to the engravings on the walls. "They keep watch. Jonah will know."

"Who keeps watch?"

"The sigils! They're meant to keep watch, to make sure we stay on the right path."

"Really."

"Yes. You must remain on the path that's been chosen for you," she said, as though reciting a commandment.

"I'm leaving Margaret. I'll be back with some food later."

She shut the door, wishing she had not stopped at the structure after all. The women at the cabin would be wondering where she'd disappeared to, and she had to find her car.

After she'd made her way back to the cabin and had lunch, she snuck out again, this time sticking to the road.

A boy of about twelve surprised her and himself as he climbed out of a ditch on the side of the road, a gleaming green frog in his hand. "Oh," he said, and dropped the frog, who hopped off.

"Hello, there," she said, putting on her most winning smile. "I'm Beth. Who might you be?"

"George," he said, water from the ditch spilling from his pants and shoes onto the ground.

"Well, George, I'd like you to help me out with something. I need to find my car. Can you show me the way?"

He shook his head, and started past her.

Beth thought about how she could keep him from walking away. "The frog, that was a nice frog you had there."

He turned around, face contorted in terror. "Please," he said, "Don't tell anyone. I wasn't supposed to catch frogs anymore. I'm sorry, really sorry about it. Please."

"Oh, I wouldn't..." Beth thought a moment. "Let's make a deal, George. You take me to my car, and I won't tell about the frog."

"But I don't know where they took it...I just know where the crash was."

"Take me there, then."

They walked about a mile down the road, and he turned onto a path in the woods. After another mile or so, they were on the road that led into the town. Beth even saw the sign: Redemption.

She wandered around, looking for an remnants of the crash. She found some broken plastic, from some part of the car, strewn on the side of the road. Her eye caught something glinting from just inside the woods across from where she stood. When she reached the object, she picked it up gingerly. It was a long strip of rubber, about two and a half feet wide, and maybe five feet long, studded with nails. Some of the nails had bits of black rubber on their tips. She dropped the object and backed away, moaning, "No, no, no..."

"Miss?" the boy said, watching her from across the road. "We shouldn't stay here too long. They might start to wonder, you know? We could get in a lot of trouble." His voice faltered on the last word, and he swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone had followed them.

Beth stared at the rubber object on the ground. It was a spike strip, something the cops sometimes put out on roads to stop criminals they knew were coming that way. They had been mostly outlawed, due to the dangerous potential of the accidents they could cause.

Jonah and his town of brainwashed religious nuts had caused the accident. They had wanted Hannah and Beth to stay here. And if they were willing to go to such an extreme, Beth was almost certain they wouldn't want them to leave.

When she got back to the cabin, Hannah was up and walking around, helping the other women put dishes away. Her left arm was still in a sling, but every now and then one of the women would hand her a dish to put in the cupboard with her good arm.

"Hannah, I have to talk to you," Beth whispered to her. "We have to leave - tonight. These people are dangerous."