Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

He nodded. Cole knew there was danger in the question, but his mind was a fog, the truth billowing in him like a suffocating smoke.

“Speak up.”

“I could see everything,” Cole said. He looked to his own lawyer behind her table and wondered when he could start answering her questions. Each step felt like a trap with this guy.

“And at this time you were already an initiate in the—” The lawyer shook a piece of paper stiff and seemed to read the next, as if anyone could now get it wrong. “—The Holy Order of God’s Miracle Makers, is that also correct?”

“I’m actually a full member,” Cole said.

The lawyer smiled and handed the piece of paper to one of the team of people behind his desk. Cole didn’t follow the paper all the way. He didn’t want to face the other people sitting there—

“At least, I was a full member,” Cole added. He wasn’t exactly sure what his status with the Order was anymore. He noticed his lawyer frowning at this and wondered if he’d made a mistake.

“So, let’s be clear about this.” The lawyer turned and faced the two rows of jurors. “You, Cole Mendonça, were a full member of these Miracle Makers .” He stressed the words and wiggled two pairs of fingers in the air. “You were, on the morning of the—let’s just call it an explosion for now—you were perched on what you yourself admitted was the perfect vantage point for your handiwork—”

“Objection,” Cole’s lawyer said. “He’s leading the witness.”

“Sustained,” the judge intoned.

Cole’s lawyer stood up. “Your honor, my client is not the one on—”

“Your objection was sustained, Counselor.” The judge picked up his mallet, but used it to point at her rather than bang it. “Please sit.”

The crowd in the pews stirred. Their attention returned to Cole.

“On the morning of the… explosion , you were in a spot with an uncanny view of the new research institute, and you were with another member of the Miracle Makers.” The lawyer walked over to Cole’s witness stand and placed his hands on the wooden ledge before him. “Where did you go immediately after the event?”

“I went to Church,” Cole said. He wanted to look at his lawyer with every answer, but figured it might seem like he wasn’t sure or was being coached. He knew perfectly well what had happened that day and why. He kept reminding himself of that. All he needed to do was tell the truth.

“Did you go to pray?”

There was laughter from the pews.

“Did you go to confess? ”

Cole shook his head. “We went to see Marco. We thought we could help, or something.”

“Perhaps you thought you could help build the next bomb?”

“ What? ” Cole looked around the room, all eyes wide and locked onto his. “No, I had no idea about any of that at the time. I thought maybe some of the injured people might need help. Joanna and I went to Marco because he’s our group leader—”

“Is that what you call each cell? You call them groups?”

“Cell?” Cole shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. A group was… it was just a group . A bunch of kids. I mean, Marco was in charge of us, but he was only like sixteen years old.”

The lawyer waved his hand as if to shoo away Cole’s words. “The court has already established that age will not be a defense for anyone in this case.”

“I’m not defending anything ,” Cole said, hearing his voice increase in pitch and volume. “I’m—We went to Marco because we weren’t sure where else to go. That’s all.”

“So you’re saying that at this time, after watching the explosion from such a choice spot, you had no idea Marco and the Miracle Makers were the ones who set off the explosion.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained. Rephrase that, Counselor.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Are you saying—and please remember that you’re under oath—that you went to Marco with the belief that he was uninvolved with the events of that morning.”

Cole nodded. “I had no clue,” he said.

“Are you also going to tell me, again while under oath, that this explosion was not your idea?”

Cole felt his jaw unhinge. He looked to his lawyer, whose hands were splayed out over the papers before her as if she needed to pin into place all the facts she thought she knew. Cole wanted to keep turning, to scan the room. He imagined Marco sitting off to the side, a mad grin on the boy’s face, but Cole knew he wasn’t there.

“Answer the question,” the judge said. “And I’m getting tired of reminding you of that.”

Cole bit his lip. He reached up to wipe sweat from beside his ear, but stopped himself and just let it run down his jawbone.

“Was the explosion and the corresponding blast in New Zealand in fact all your idea?” the lawyer asked.

“I don’t think so,” Cole said. Of all the questions he had feared to hear in court, he never expected this one to come up—the one that had been haunting him for weeks and weeks.

“You don’t think so.”

“I had nothing to do with the bombs,” Cole said.

“So you were more of the cell’s planner, then?”

“Objection,” his lawyer shouted, her voice shaky.

“Overruled. Answer the question.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Tell us what it was like.”

Cole wrung his hands together. “It was just a conversation,” he said. “It was an astronomy book. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

The lawyer spread his arms wide. “And yet here we are, Cole. Now, you’ve already admitted to killing a boy in cold blood, a member of your little cult, and now we know that this miracle of yours was nothing more than a terrorist act that you yourself dreamt up.”

“No,” Cole said. He looked to his lawyer, waiting for an objection, but her face was blank, her mouth hanging open. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell us.” The lawyer turned and waved at the congregation. “Tell these good people about your involvement in this cell. Tell them the truth, and tell them that my client had nothing to do with your actions, that these cells were operating without his knowledge, that all this was done by unruly and sociopathic boys hiding behind his cloak for safety.”

“But that’s not right,” Cole said. “He did do this, I swear.”

Cole finally relented to the pull of his curious gaze and turned to meet the glare of Father Picoult, sitting at the table with the party of suits. Cole pointed. “I’m telling you, he was the one who started it all.”

“So, are you feeling at home yet?”

Cole looked up from the book winged out across his lap. He was sitting in the church hallway, his legs crossed, his back against the ornately tiled walls of the refectory. Before him loomed the shadow of Father Picoult, the heavy folds of his plain black smock still stirring from his silent stroll down the hallway.

“It’s Cole, right?”

Cole nodded. “Yes, Father. And yes, I feel very much at home here. Even more than I had at the orphanage.” He smiled up at the priest. “Not that I don’t appreciate everything the Sisters did for me, of course.”

Father Picoult smiled down at him. “That’s good to hear. I’ll pass along your gratitude, and I’m glad you’re making yourself comfortable.” The Father nodded toward Cole’s lap. “What are you studying?”

Cole looked down at the book in his lap. “Astronomy, Father. With Sister Maria.”

“Is that a subject that interests you?”

Cole’s head bobbed. “Very much so.”