A HEATHEN AMONG FUNDAMENTALISTS
Dakota Orlando
{BACKGROUND: Fifteen-year-old Christian fundamentalist Ester is the point-of-view character throughout the entire book. Orphaned fifteen-year-old Angela was raised by her agnostic uncle. She and her benefactor are staunch humanists. The uncle recently died, which threw Angela into the protective custody of the State of Massachusetts. Ester’s fundamentalist family has opened their home for possible adoption, and things have not gone well. The enrollment in summer Bible camp was Ester’s family’s last attempt to convert Angela. At this point, Angela is slated for certain expulsion from Ester’s home. The girls are on an early morning jog, which started out apologetic and morphed into animosity. Angela broke off the jog and headed back toward their shared cabin, while Ester continued jogging through the woods of western Massachusetts.}
Chapter 27
Christ is My Rock
I focused so intently on my shooting-star thoughts that, after rounding a sharp turn and losing sight of Angela, I didn’t notice the quick movement from the woods. Something wrenched my arm and twirled me around. In a flash, one arm wrapped around my neck. Another hand held something sharp pressed against the underside of my chin.
“Keep your mouth shut, and you won’t get hurt. You feel this on your throat?”
My mind drew a blank as though I had forgotten the English language. A wet feeling caught my attention, and I realized I had peed myself. My insides had contracted so much that fear had squeezed my bladder dry, and now my wet jogging shorts clung to my thighs. Words having failed me, I nodded several times.
“I won’t hesitate to shove it in and rip apart your artery if you try to struggle. You’ll be dead in minutes.” I felt the pressure around my throat relax. “I’ll let you go in a moment, but keep hold of your hand. You make one move to bolt, and I’ll slit your cute little wrist. You hear?”
Hyperventilation kicked in, keeping me from nodding. He shook me for several seconds.
“You hear me?” The man’s voice dropped to a severe, threatening whisper. “Do you hear me?”
Involuntary tears formed. “Yes! Yes!”
He shook me again and hit my head with the butt of the knife. My temple stung, followed by a deep throbbing. “Shut up! Shut up and calm down.”
Is this the same guy who kidnapped the girl from the Pittsfield movies? What can I do to stop myself from being his next victim? Mom and Dad never talked about anything like this happening. What did I see on the TV newscasts? Was I supposed to fight back … or cooperate? I don’t know.
“Okay,” I heard myself say. “I’ll calm down.” And somehow, I did.
How can I suddenly be calm? Maybe my unconscious mind decided it would be best to cooperate.
“If you release me, I promise I won’t run.”
“Oh, you’re a confident one.”
The pressure around my neck eased. I started pulling away, but something slapped against my wrist and swung me around. Staring at his head, a ski mask greeted me.
Great! What can I tell about a man’s face through that? But I must relay something to the police. His height. His weight … his eye color!
While I measured those things, I heard footsteps. The man jumped behind me and spun me toward the padding sound.
I stared ahead to see Angela come into view from around the nearby bend. Her gaze skimmed the ground ahead for several yards, then she lifted her head and smiled.
“There you are, Esther. Look, I’ve ….”
Our positions placed me before the man. He wasn’t much taller than me, just big-chested and muscular. Angela halted so fast it seemed like she had run into a force field from a science fiction movie.
From about twelve feet away, I had an excellent opportunity to assess her soul through her eyes. At first, shock exploded across her face, and then fear eclipsed it for several seconds, followed by a strange softening. She seemed to tune out for a second, then fear commanded her expression again.
She bent into a slight squat. Her shoulders pulled in, hunched forward, and her arms clamped against her sides. Within seconds, tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, my,” she whimpered. “What’s going on? What are you doing with my sister?”
A shove forced me to the ground. Lying on my back, I gawked at the knifepoint inches from my nose.
“You move and you’re dead.” The man spun and pointed the knife at Angela. “Get over here and lie beside your sister.”
Her hands flew to her chin, and tears poured from her eyes. With each tear, my anger grew.
Angela, for all your big talk about humans helping humans, creating a better humanity, you’ve ended up being a much bigger coward than me. Perhaps my religion gave me the edge. I resolve from now on to allow Christ to give me the strength to endure.
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t hurt me. Oh, please. I beg you.”
The man waved the knife. “Shut up and get over here.”
She continued to whimper. “Please. Don’t hurt me. Please!”
“Is there anyone else behind you?” the man asked.
“No,” she whined.
She must have eased her way over far too slowly for the man’s liking because he wrenched one arm and hit her in the head several times with the butt of his knife.
Screaming and begging him to stop, Angela displayed so much cowardice it sickened me. “Oh, please! Oh, please! Oh, please!” she kept wailing in an irritatingly submissive drone.
So, this is what her humanist philosophy has done for her … turned her into a selfish beast. She’s proven she cares only about her own welfare. It’s so typical of heathens.
The man must have heard enough because he slapped her across the face and forced her to lie beside me. It shut her up and left her with nothing to do but sob. I wonder if she and her uncle rehearsed it that way.
“Damn you for coming along. I need only one girl. Now, what’ll I do?”
An inscrutable, bold feeling overwhelmed me. I felt certain Angela’s cowardice inspired it. “Release us,” I said. “You don’t really want to harm two innocent girls. What you want is to give your life to Jesus. Trust in him. He is the one true way.”
The man laughed and thrust his knife under my chin. My heart quivered, but I fought off the fear. Christ is my rock!
He laughed. “I don’t want to harm any girls. I only want to screw them.”
The breath gushed from my lungs by a mysterious invisible force and refused to return. My mind ran wild with images of me as a rape victim. Shaking my head, I forced Angela into the victim’s position.
I know she’ll never be the same if it happens to her. She’ll be scarred for life. But I have Christ, and Christ can see me through anything.
“You don’t need the two of us.” The words had flown from my mouth, and I knew Jesus had embedded them there.
My God is showing me the way. Like Jesus, I will sacrifice myself for others.
“Let her go. Take me.”
Angela froze. Watching her stare into my eyes, her fear seemed superseded by confusion, then returned to fear. “Yes! Yes!” She thrust her hands before her chin and pressed them together as though in prayer. The gesture sickened me. “Take her. Please, take her. Don’t hurt me. Please. I beg you. Don’t hurt me!”
The man yanked me to my feet and held me beside him with a grip around my left wrist like an iron clamp. I stared at the cowering figure of my would-be foster sister.
I almost hate you, but I know I can’t. Because I’m a Christian, it isn’t allowed. I shook my head. You make me ill.
Looking at my shorts, I noticed the wet stain of fear. Glancing at Angela’s crotch, I saw nothing. What? She hadn’t let loose? She must have peed before leaving the cabin.
Shaken to attention, I stared into the ski mask’s eyes.
“Thanks for helping me decide,” the man said. Something flew out of nowhere, struck the left side of my face—and everything went black.
END OF SAMPLE
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