Gregg Hurwitz - The Program

Her expression changed when she glanced behind him. As she yanked open the pane and helped him inside, he glanced over his shoulder. A far-off flashlight bounced up the trail from the clearing. He was careful to keep the muddy trash bags off the bedspread. He tugged them inside out as he removed them, then pulled off his shoes.

They sat quietly by the window. Skate and the dogs materialized from the rain, shadowy apparitions. The dogs were hyped up, their stick legs blurring, snouts swiveling. Their heads dipped to the ground, vacuuming scent, but then something caught their attention ahead. They burst past the cottage, barking, Skate jogging after them.

Tim and Leah exhaled simultaneously. She backhanded his shoulder. "What the hell are you thinking? Do you have any idea what he'll do to us?"

"Skate and Randall killed a girl. In the woods."

"What? Does TD know?"

"He told them to."

"You saw them murder a girl?"

"I didn't actually see it." His wet socks ice-crackled as he crept to the door. "I have to wash off these shoes in the bathroom."

They worked their way slowly over the creaking floor, slipped into the bathroom, and huddled in a toilet stall. Tearing the plastic bags into pieces and tossing them in the toilet, Tim explained to her what he'd seen.

"I'm sure there's an explanation. You didn't find a grave." Though they were whispering, her voice was high-pitched, desperate, and he had to hush her.

"She was just another loose end tied up. TD keeps track of everyone in The Program and everyone who's left The Program."

"He doesn't care about people who leave."

"I saw the files he keeps on them. Listen to me carefully, Leah: Nobody gets out of The Program. Not without winding up dead, missing, or in a nuthouse."

"No way."

"That's what the Protectors do, Leah. That's what they're here for. They're dangerous men."

Her face tensed with uncertainty, but then she dropped her eyes. "Of course they're dangerous – they're like cops." She put a particular emphasis on that last word.

Tim looked at her skeptically.

Another flicker of emotion crossed her face. Still, she wouldn't raise her eyes from the patches of plastic floating in the toilet. Then the affect vanished. She regarded him with perfect calm. "Why should I even talk to you? You're trying to persecute the Teacher."

"I'm here to protect you and to try to stop him from doing this to others."

"What are you, in the CIA or something? You're a spy, aren't you?"

"No. I'm not. You don't like spying?" Again she averted her eyes, an infuriating trick she practiced every time he threatened to pick up ground. "The Program is built on spying. You should see the file TD keeps on you. All your finances" – she pushed her hands over her ears, so he raised his voice to an angry whisper – "dating back months before you even became a Pro." She closed her eyes; her lips were moving. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands off her ears. Startled, she opened her eyes. "He's created an instruction manual for how to handle you. You know what it says to do if you try to leave? Tell you that outside The Program you'll get cancer."

She was weeping silently now. "Don't grab me."

He pulled his hands back. She started rocking and hugging herself. He flushed the toilet twice and rinsed his Nikes off in the sink. She followed him silently back down the hall, fell into bed, and lay with her back to the room. He sat beside her, resisting the parental urge to pet her back.

"I'm sorry I grabbed you."

"You don't have any right to handle me that way."

"Of course not. No one does."

"There are no files. I don't believe you."

"I held them in my hands, Leah. Yours and the Dead Link files for people who have left. Or tried to leave."

She sat up, back against the wall, studying him. "What do you want? From me?"

"When I leave tomorrow night, I'd like you to come with me to meet with your parents the way you tried to before. But this time I'll make sure it goes better."

She laughed quietly. "You're going through all this shit just to try to get me to do that again?"

"You'll have a chance to explain to them why this is right for you."

"Are you paying attention to anything that's going on? I have no need or obligation to explain myself to my parents. So they can kidnap me."

"I won't let that happen. You have my word that you can come back if you want to."

"Like I trust you. And besides, there's no way TD would let me go."

"So you don't believe TD when he says everyone is here by choice?"

"It's more complicated than that. There are reasons. He won't let me just go."

"Leave that up to me."

"It'll never work." She fisted her bangs hard. "You can't just leave the ranch."

"What do you mean? I'm not a Pro yet. And the retreat ends tomorrow."

Her eyes darted away. "TD wants you here. He wants all the initiates here, but you're special to him. He treats you differently, bends the rules for you." Her eyes flicked to the Cartier. "I've never seen him do that before."

"Then what's to say I can't get him to bend the rules again?"

"Even if he did let you leave, there's no way I could go."

"Pretend I could arrange it."

Leah stared at him, her mouth drawn tight.

"I told you, Leah, The Program is a one-way trip. And I know, now, that this is a dangerous place – and not just psychologically. This might be your only shot to get out. If I can arrange it, will you go with me?"

She lowered her hands and glared at him. "No. I won't." She stared at the rain-flecked window. "I started this, I'm going to finish it. I'm fulfilled here."

A movement drew their attention to the window. Skate and the dogs, patrolling the far edge of Cottage Circle. Leah shivered inadvertently.

Tim studied her reaction. "Really?"

She made no response.

"Leah, has anyone ever left the ranch?"

Leah had been too agitated to sleep. She'd risen with the sun and waited shivering outside Cottage Three. Finally the door banged open, and Stanley John exited briskly, adjusting his shirt, not even noting Leah's presence to the side of the front step. A few moments later Janie emerged, using her fingers to comb her hair back into place. "Hi, babe." She kissed Leah on the forehead. "Why up so early?"

"There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Sure thing."

Leah picked at one of the empty belt loops on her pants. "Has TD ever had any…problems with the law or anything?"

"All great leaders have been persecuted. Especially when they set forth a new doctrine. Think of Martin Luther King, Gandhi. Heck, think of Jesus."

"So that's a yes?" Leah had tried to keep her frustration out of her voice, but Janie's expression indicated she'd failed.

"Did your parents fill your head with this nonsense that time you went home? You were persecuted that night, remember? And now you're gonna buy into the lies your persecutors hurled at you." Janie shook her head. "Really, Leah, I thought you were beyond this."

A familiar sensation overtook her – that she was shrinking away, not in size but distance. She felt perspective-small, a dot on a horizon.

Janie combed her fingers through her tangled hair. "I'd just hate to think…"

"What?"

"Well, thoughts like that are really malignant. I'd focus on the Source Code before your negative energy manifests physiologically and turns carcinogenic."

Leah felt anxiety clench her stomach – Janie's response seemed straight from the secret file Tom had claimed to have found. But it also seemed right. The thoughts Tom had put into her head were diseased.

"Okay, Janie." Leah's voice was quiet, deadened. "I will."

The Pros sat in monklike silence, lined in neat rows before bowls of oatmeal. Tim cast a curious sideways glance at Leah, who'd been turning in her chair to look at the other tables.