Jeff Hirsch - The Darkest Path

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

Sick of the paper, I covered the microphone with my hand and whispered.

“They’re just words.”

Nat pushed my hand away and spoke directly into the microphone.

“My name is Natalie Marie Whitacker. My mother was Staff Sergeant Eliza Whitacker of the U.S. Army rangers. My father was Deputy John Whitacker. Both were murdered by Path forces. In retaliation, and to defend the republic, I attempted to assassinate the traitor Nathan Hill. I am proud of my actions.”

Nat dropped into her chair.

“Those are just words too,” she said.

There was a metallic click behind me as the door opened. I crumpled the notes I had written Nat in my hand and stuffed them in a pocket. Parker’s presence was heavy in the doorway.

“Nat, please.”

She said nothing as Parker stepped inside and unlocked the chain that bound her to the desk. He took her arm and led her out into the hall and away.

“Private Roe?”

A young novice stood in the doorway behind me. “President Hill has asked that you meet him in his ready room in one hour. He thought you might want to go to your quarters until then. They’re this way.”

I followed him out of the building and through the streets of the base, mixing with the soldiers and the novices. The sounds of the war filtered in from far away. I stopped across the street from a long building with a peaked roof.

“That’s our Lighthouse.”

I looked over the novice’s shoulder at another building. “My quarters are that way?”

“Yes.”

I thanked him and crossed the road. Flickering amber light warmed the windows of the Lighthouse and spread onto the concrete below. I remembered years ago when Beacon Quan explained that anyone looking for light should always be able to find it in God’s house.

The Lighthouse was large and empty, carpeted in burgundy with black walls and a thin stage that held the altar. It looked like it had been a movie theater before the Path came. The air was warm from the lanterns hung all around and the thick candles that lined the stage.

The Path insignia hung over the altar, radiant in gold and marble. It was more than simply quiet within the Lighthouse. It was as if time stopped within its walls.

I dropped into one of the seats and thought of Nat, wishing that time could stand still for her too. In less than an hour I would meet with Hill and he would know that I failed to bring her to the Path. After that it wouldn’t be long until someone like Rhames showed up in Nat’s cell. I wondered if she would welcome him when he came.

“Cal?”

Startled, I turned and found James standing behind me in the aisle. He had changed out of his dirty kitchen things and into rumpled novice fatigues.

“Mind if I…”

I moved over and James sat next to me. He closed his eyes and mouthed a prayer. His copy of The Glorious Path was on his knee.

“Not where I expected to find you,” he said.

“Just looking for someplace quiet, I guess.”

James sunk down into his seat, gazing up at the altar, its varnished lines gleaming in the candlelight.

“You remember the first time we came to Lighthouse?” he asked.

I nodded, remembering the two of us as we were then, fresh from the Choice and trembling in our pews as we sat through services for the first time.

“I was so scared.”

“I know,” James said. “You were holding my hand. I remember thinking — why is my brother holding my hand? And when will he stop?”

James laughed and I glanced over at him. “All of this always just felt right to you. Didn’t it?”

“No. I fought it at first too.”

“I wasn’t fighting it, James. I was—” I cut myself off, hating the angry snap of my voice. I looked over my shoulder at the Lighthouse door. Time was still turning on the other side. Why had I come in here? What had I hoped to accomplish?

“You remember those nights we would sleep in the backyard?”

James was looking up at the altar, a half smile on his face.

“Our bunk beds,” I said.

“I remember how Mom and Dad would go to bed and we would stay up talking, you know, just about—”

“Your crush on Mrs. Hurley.”

“I didn’t have a crush on Mrs.—”

“You told Mom and Dad that if they didn’t get you into her class, you were going to run away.”

“Well, what about you and — what’s her name?” James asked. “That girl down the steet. The redhead. Cassie!”

“No no no,” I said, waving him off. “I definitely didn’t have a—”

“I saw the poetry. I saw it. Would you like a quote? ‘Oh, Cassie! With hair of fire —’”

“Enough!”

James laughed and so did I, the sound echoing off the walls and brightening the inside of the Lighthouse. Once it faded, James and I sat side by side, a little breathless.

“The best thing about home was me and you,” James said.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was.”

“I can’t believe this is a coincidence. God wanted you here.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask Him.”

“God doesn’t talk to me, James.”

“You don’t listen.”

An old anger began to smolder and I tried to hold it down. “How can you — I mean, the things Hill does. The Choice—”

“We’re trying to fix something that’s badly broken,” James said, repeating the line we had heard from a dozen beacons. “The Choice is a tool. Once we get where we’re going, it won’t be necessary anymore. Until then—”

“How can you say that?” I asked, my voice rising. “How can you believe that?”

“Because it’s—”

“How did they get to you?”

“No one got to me! I just—” James stopped. He closed his eyes for a moment and then continued. “I was just as scared as you after they took us. Just as angry too. Without Mom and Dad, everything just seemed… It’s like we were in the middle of this hurricane all the time. You know? But then I went to Lighthouse one night and Beacon Thomas explained that there was a path that ran through the center of the world. He said that no matter how chaotic things seemed, there was a plan and everything and everyone had their place in it. He said that once I pushed the fear and anger and doubt out of my head, I would know mine.”

A glow washed over James as he remembered.

“And he was right,” he said. “Once I saw it, once I let myself see it, I couldn’t see anything else. I didn’t want to. And it can be the same for you, Cal.”

“James.”

“I know you don’t believe it, but you have a path too. There’s a reason that you—”

“Maybe there are some things we just shouldn’t talk about.”

James fell silent. He turned away from me, staring down at the concrete floor, his hands on The Glorious Path .

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Neither of us said anything more for some time. The quiet in the Lighthouse made it feel like we were trapped in amber.

“Guess they’ll want everyone at their duty stations soon.”

I nodded weakly, and James left his seat and started toward the aisle. The feel of him drawing away stopped my breath. If he left, if he opened that door, time would start up again and everything would be lost.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said.

James stopped. “I thought you were going home.”

“I think there’s something I have to do first,” I said. “A friend I have to help. But I don’t know how.”

James’s footsteps whispered down the carpet until I could feel him standing just at my shoulder.

“I don’t know if I even can.”

“God’s not cruel,” he said. “He wouldn’t put you on a path you couldn’t reach the end of. You have to trust that.”