CHAPTER EIGHT
Thefollowing day is the same, but this time, we eat breakfast before the sermon. I try to stay behind when everyone gets up to go, but David steps in and insists that I attend because the daily sermons with Shepherd are mandatory.
Confused, I follow him, considering his statement. It can’t truly be a requirement to stay in the community, right?
Resolving to ask Marie later, because her personality is so soft and quiet that getting answers out of her seems more manageable than with David, I follow him glumly into the room and find a seat near the door. I haven’t seen Enzo this morning and hope to speak to him before heading off to our jobs. I need the connection. Now that we’re separated not only by our living quarters but by our jobs, I find I miss my friend and the easy peace we had.
Shepherd enters from a side room, and once again, the group greets him and parodies back his words. After that, I tune out for a while, going down my favorite rabbit hole of why Cole doesn’t love me enough. Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless, and frankly, at this point, I’m tired of myself.
“Brother, are you here with us today?” Shepherd bellows, grabbing my attention when he gesticulates wildly with his hands.
A young man toward the front says in a low voice, “Yes, Shepherd, I’m here.”
“That’s good because it appears that you are not here, that you are not committed to the truth. Are you committed, brother?”
The intensity of Shepherd’s voice has me squirming in my seat, embarrassed on behalf of this boy, surely not more than a teenager, who replies quietly, “I am, Shepherd.”
“What’s that? I can’t hear you, brother?” Shepherd thunders.
“I am,” he says louder.
“Again.”
“I am!”
“Louder!”
“I am,” he shouts, and I jump a little in my seat before slumping when Shepherd’s intense gaze moves over the crowd. Luckily, he doesn’t spot me and turns back to the boy, but my heart is pounding erratically, and I’m more confused than ever.
“Samuel, you know the doctrine. You know why we are here. God has spoken to me. Not you, not Sally, not Toni. Me. I am the vessel of God. I am the speaker of his words. I am the savior,” he screams, the muscles in his neck bulging.
I slap my hand over my mouth to contain my gasp, glancing around, but no one is surprised by what he is saying. There are no shocked expressions. In fact, all eyes are trained on Shepherd and Shepherd alone.
My stomach free falls at the sight. Maybe coming here wasn’t our salvation, at least not in the way Shepherd would interpret it.
What have I gotten myself into now?
Shepherd continues his rant for a few more minutes before leading the group in prayer and ending with a resounding amen. I leave the hall shaken.
What just happened? Why is no one shocked? Or horrified by the deliberate humiliation pressed upon that boy by a grown man?
In fact, I find most of the faces around me blank, emotionless, or creepily happy, with smiles and good cheer.
Enzo finds me in the crowd, and with a silent look of warning, walks with me to the nursery. Miserably, I look at anything but him or my surroundings, wondering if maybe we would have been better off if we never came here at all.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says gruffly, and with a silent sigh, I watch him walk away before entering the nursery.
The kids are already setting up for the day and colorful blocks are spread out before them. I’ve seen nothing in the way of actual schoolwork, making me wonder if the older children are stationed somewhere else for just that purpose.
Still, some of the kids here are school-aged, which wouldn’t make sense if that were the case.
I ask Marie about it a little later on when the flurry of morning activities has died down, and she gives me a furtive look before saying in a low, quiet tone, “Well, Shepherd doesn’t think it’s a priority.”
“Why?” I ask. I mean, sure, we’ve regressed a few hundred years, but knowing how to read and write, having fundamental math skills, understanding physics, and more—all of this will drive our future as the human race. It’s what distinguishes us from animals.
She shrugs, glancing around. “I don’t know.”
Licking my lips, I glance around too, before shaking my head. What the hell? “Has anyone asked?”