Chapter Three: The Plan

We followed the General to the Moore family home. He stopped to speak with several Bishops, and we waited for him to continue. Since the entire day had passed, it was nearly dark again. The sun baked the muddy road, and it cracked as we walked.

JJ and Beau, both five, got restless and clearly wanted to be away from the group of adults where they could play. Alaina and my mother quieted them with sharp words.

Ace and Karter's wives had a harder time taming their younger children. They complained about the distance, their shoes, the humidity, hunger, and boredom. Somehow it made the walk seem much longer, so I had mixed feelings when we reached the house.

The Moore home was ancient. Family lore held that Adam Moore himself had it constructed as the colony closed the gates. Three stories and over thirty yards across the front, it was the largest home in town. A wraparound porch covering all four sides made it seem even larger.

The women climbed creaking steps into the kitchen while the men went around back to sit at the wooden picnic tables on the large deck. The boys shed their coats and ran to the pond near the woods.

"I trust everyone is doing well?" said the General.

There was an unspoken understanding that I would speak first. "JJ is progressing well in school. He has been commended for memorizing more verses than any of the other boys."

The General nodded. "Good. I expect nothing less. Ace?"

"All is well for us. We are having our porch redone. It will be quite the site when finished."

Karter puffed up. "The High Preacher indicated my application for the Clergy will be approved."

Ace clapped Karter's shoulder. "Here I thought you’d be a Watchman for life."

Grunting, Karter elbowed Ace's ribs. "Don't even joke."

Hunter sat straighter. "I punched a Guardian two days ago. Broke his nose.”

The General stiffened. Subordinate to a Guardian, Acolyte Moore would have to have an exceptionally good reason for striking a superior. My assistant told me of the incident yesterday, but I had not found it prudent to alert the General, which may have been a mistake. Admittedly, I did not think Hunter would blurt it out.

"Oh?" said the General. "What prompted that?"

The women began to bring out the food and set it on the long tables, beginning with the men's. The General held out his glass without a word for my mother to fill with lemonade. His eyes never left Hunter.

Self-assured, Hunter said, "Guardian Blackwood called me an alien-fucker."

Even Ace and Karter froze. No two words were more charged than those. Even insulting a man's virility was less insulting.

I had spent a lifetime studying my father: his moods, his postures, his expressions. It was one thing that kept me safe, for the most part. In that moment, his shoulder tensed and his face darkened. I leaned away.

"He said this to you? Truly?"

"Yes, sir. To my face."

The General turned to me. "What sort of program do you run that a Guardian would say such a thing to the son of his General?"

Of course this turned on me.

I adjusted my expression and tone to make sure I gave nothing away. "Guardian Francis Blackwood comes from trash. His father was professional enlisted, too unliked to match with a profession. His family lives in squalor just outside of town. I expect nothing more from such people."

Blackwood Sr. was the epitome of what can happen to someone with a string of bad luck. He broke his leg in militia training and had a limp after, which meant no profession would have him. He had to remain enlisted in the militia, which paid worse than shit.

The General accepted that. “Poor breeding always shows. The Blackwoods are one step above unbelievers. I would simply exile myself if my family were as despicable.”

With that, everyone began the meal. I half listened to the conversation around me as I kept an eye on Alaina, who tried to look like she wasn't watching JJ. Our boy was at the end of the men’s table with his young uncles, laughing about something only they understood.

When dinner finally ended, the men and women split to begin Bible study. As I was about to enter the vast worship room to continue our discussion on Revelation, the General grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to his office. Stumbling, I thought my head was going to rip from my shoulders.

He closed the door behind us and went to his desk, where he grabbed two glasses and a half-empty bottle. I was not exactly sure what was happening, but the General did not seem overly aggressive. For him, at least.

Rich wood furniture filled the room. Dusty books lined shelves and a dark fireplace took up much of the wall opposite the window. I did not have any good memories of this office, and I had no reason to believe that was about to change.

Taking the glass he offered me, I stared at it for a moment. Alcohol was rare in the colony.

“Drink that,” the General said, “and listen.”

I sipped the alcohol. It was not the common abomination Edgar Wilson made in his barn, but much smoother.

The General stood just a hair too close. “You seem to think this legacy issue is a joke. Let me tell you, it is not. This is the future of this colony you’re jeopardizing. The Moore line traces straight from our founder Adam Moore to James Junior. If one of your ancestors had been as selfish as you, you wouldn’t exist and some other family might be running the Militia now. It’s an embarrassment.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We are not doing this on purpose.”

We were definitely doing it on purpose.

The General gestured for me to keep drinking. I did not indulge very often, and didn’t really like the sensation. However, he seemed adamant.

“Prove it. You’re going home right now and you’re going to make another son. If she’s not pregnant in three months, you’re not going to be happy. You are going to prove you're not a useless eunuch."

The General took the glass and set it on the side table so hard I thought it would shatter.

"Sir, I am trying."

Before I could even register it, he slammed his fist into my abdomen. I tried to regain my breath and resist the urge to retaliate. He grabbed the back of my neck and said into my ear, "Try harder. Ace would be more than happy to take your place."

The Grand General position always went to the oldest surviving son. I did not want to give him any reason to decide I was not suitable, because he would erase me from the family line.

"Yes, sir. We won’t disappoint you."

He opened the door and shoved me into the hall. "Get to it. Now."

Wasting no time, I went to the front door where Alaina waited. Her tense expression told me she had not had a better time than my experience. I could imagine my mother giving her the same directive.

As soon as we were at the road, I asked after JJ.

"He is playing with Beau. I hope he will be fine for the night. Your mother is in a mood."

The walk to our home was quick, and I looked around the perimeter before we entered.

In the large greeting room, Alaina let out a sharp breath.

"Closet?" I asked right away.

She led us to the closet in the upstairs hall. Or, it looked like a closet. Soon after we moved in, I placed false walls in the fourth bedroom. It was a dangerous undertaking, given my father and most of my brothers had lived here before the General took on his role after my grandfather died. Fortunately, none of them had returned since I took over.

In the closet, I pushed in the back wall to reveal our planning room. Supplies and maps littered two rickety tables. This was the only space we discussed our desire to leave. Going against Doctrine like this was one of the quickest ways to die. I did not want my family in danger, but I did not want them to live this life. My fear of remaining somehow outweighed my fear of being caught by Border Patrol.

I closed the secret door behind us. Within a moment, Alaina pulled me into a hug that knocked the wind out of me. Her head reached my chin, and I kissed her forehead to reassure her.

"That was so awful," she said. "Your mother gave me three glasses of wine and explained I need to do my duty for the family. Then she went into detail about her doing her duty. Would you like to know where you were conceived?"

I regretted the alcohol immensely as my stomach rolled.

“I’d rather walk into the river.”

"I can't believe this," she said.

"We knew it was going to happen when we decided not to have another child."

"How long do you think we have?"

"A few months, maybe. They would expect you to show soon."

Our plans were half finished. I still needed to figure out the current patrol patterns of the militia. Since my last promotion, I was slightly out of touch with the day-to-day operations. I wanted to scout it out as close to our departure as possible. We also needed more ammunition, food for travel, and a better understanding of what we would face. I spent a good deal of time researching, scouring for any bit of information on the Other Side. Slim pickings and unreliable at that.

Alaina stepped back and looked over the maps. I had hand drawn most of them based on my limited knowledge of the area around the colony. I also spent time in other towns near the border to map as much of the actual colony as possible. Capernaum and Nazareth took security very seriously. Our plan to escape to the northeast would bring us near them even after we bypassed local patrols.

Alaina moved a bag of emergency supplies to look at the paper that started this whole thing.

When I was 14, a neighbor named Christopher Turner called me up on his porch for a glass of lemonade. It changed my life. He was secretly an Unbeliever, a man who did not believe in Doctrine. I never dared ask, but I think he didn’t believe in God, either. at least, not the way the church taught. He told me an unbelievable history that made me question everything around me, including the foundations of my life.

Taking the paper in hand, I looked at the neat, compact script of Mr. Turner. Even reading it was against Doctrine, as it was not the Bible, but I had latched onto it.

From the first moment, I couldn't get it out of my mind. When I could not imagine leaving, I thought about the words that rang in my head louder than church bells:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

The rest was equally compelling.

Mr. Turner told me about Before, about struggles and evolution into a peaceful world. He showed me books—books!—on the horrors of slavery, of abolition, gaining rights, surviving disaster, and never giving up. I learned about peoples I never knew existed. People with skin of all colors and beliefs of every sort. Then I learned of other lands far away with incredible names, like Australia and China.

And I told Alaina all about it after we married.

Raised to be submissive to men, never speak her mind, and simply exist to have children, Alaina could hardly believe any of it. But that was six years ago, and our lives had changed.

"I blame you for this," she said.

I laughed, but it was not happy. Alaina was the only woman I had ever heard speak like that to a man, and it made me love her even more. "Sorry. It will be worth it all."

"Unless an alien eats us."

I was not certain I was right about aliens not being vicious. One of the many things that could go wrong with our plan.

We met at the far table to discuss our ideas, but my spine stiffened.

Someone knocked.

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