Sophia continues. “Behold, Yahweh passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before Yahweh; but Yahweh was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake; but Yahweh was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake a fire passed; but Yahweh was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a still, small voice.”

She lets out a contented sigh. “This is why we’ve come to the mountain, my friends—to hear that still, small voice and understand what the Lord needs from us.”

Sophia keeps talking, but I tune her out. I’m listening for Dad’s fire alarm, but also thinking of the rest of the passage, where God tells Elijah to get his butt back to work anointing kings and making prophecies. She’s conveniently ignoring that part. I guess because it doesn’t serve her purpose.

As much as I want to hate her—okay, as much as I do hate her—I don’t think she’s evil. She’s not cynically robbing people like those televangelists who offer empty promises in exchange for a credit card number. I think Sophia truly believes Almost Heaven is the answer to her followers’ problems.

That doesn’t give her a free pass. She’ll pay for jerking my family around, starting . . . right . . . about . . .


The fire alarm wails in the distance, rising and falling like an air-raid siren.


. . . now.


I shift over a few inches to glimpse what’s going on in the great room.


“Is that the alarm?” Sophia sets down her Bible and turns to her bodyguard Carter, who’s hurrying to her side. “Did we have a fire drill scheduled?”


“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you to the safe zone, Ms. Visser.”


“But what about the others?”


“They all know the drill. I have one priority, and that’s your safety. Don’t make me carry you.” He raises his voice. “Everyone walk—do not run—to the firebreak. Just like we’ve practiced.”


I slip out the back, then run around the building in time to meet my mother and sister as they file out the front door.


“David, there you are!” Mom grips both my arms. “I’ll show you where to go. This is probably a drill, but just to be safe—”


“It’s not a drill.” I step close to her, drawing Mara in as well. “Dad started a small fire so we could get away.”


“Thank God.” Mara takes one of the flashlights. “Let’s go, Mom. This way, to the boat.”


Mom starts to follow her, with me at her side, then stops just as we round the corner of the lodge. “Your father’s coming with us, right?”


Dad wanted me to lie to her, tell her I’d come straight back for him once I got her and Mara to our minivan parked at Sandy’s store. But that would make me no better than Sophia. “Sorry, Mom. Not tonight.”


“You want me to leave him?” Her face crumples, and she staggers back, watching the far end of the village where the firebreak lies. A few of the Rushers look back at us as they hurry away.


Mara stomps back up the trail to join us. “Mom, I’m not leaving without you, and I don’t want to stay. Is this the life you want for me? Or do you want me to go to college and get a job, maybe see my boyfriend again one day, so he doesn’t spend the rest of his life thinking I hate him?” She points her flashlight at herself. “Shouldn’t I have a choice?”


Staring at Mara, Mom fidgets with her gold-cross necklace, twisting the chain around her index finger. “Of course you should, but—”


“Good. Let’s go.” Mara turns and runs down the hill.


Mom just gapes at her, unmoving. I lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but if you leave with us now, by this time tomorrow you could be enjoying a decent cup of coffee.”


My mother runs her hands over her face, giving a shaky laugh. “That’s low, David. Come on, let’s get out of here.”


We sprint down the trail, trying not to trip in the darkness. I help keep my mother upright while Mara runs far ahead to untie the boat.


Just as Mom and I reach the dock, I hear my sister groan with dismay. “The oars!”


I come up beside her and shine my flashlight into the boat. They’re gone. “Where would they be?”


“Hidden, so we can’t escape.” Mara’s voice is full of rage. “We were so close!”


“I’ll check the other boats.”


I make my way down the dock, checking under each boat’s tarp, praying that one of them will have a pair of oars.


Finally, I reach land again and start searching for any implement—a branch, a pipe—that I can use as a paddle. At this point, I’m ready to use my hands if it means our freedom.


Suddenly, a small engine sputters to life. Busted.


I look up the hill toward the village, expecting to see an all-terrain vehicle driven by whoever considers themselves the law around here. But the noise is coming from the water, not the land.


“David!” my sister calls above the buzz of the engine, which sounds no bigger than a chainsaw.


I run back down the dock to find them sitting in our rowboat. Mom is tying the strings on my sister’s life vest, since Mara needs one hand to tilt the outboard motor above the water.


Wait. I look at the motorboat across the dock, which is technically just a boat now, because the motor that was clamped onto its stern is—


“Mara, did you steal that engine?”


“Borrowed it.”


“With no keys?”


“I pulled the string inside. Now get in before I accidentally pull away and make you swim after us.”


“Okay, okay.” Turning to lower myself into the boat, I see smoke rising above the tree line beyond the village. I pause, despite what Dad said.


“Come on, David,” Mom says in a low, even voice. “Time to save ourselves.”


My brain tells my hand to let go of the dock’s post, tells my legs to step down so I can join my mother and sister. But my eyes won’t leave that smoke.


“Get in the boat,” Mom orders. “We have to leave now.”


Her words make me shudder. They’re the same words Dad used to make her leave us behind.


This isn’t over yet.


I turn to her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I love you.”


Then I meet my sister’s eyes, long enough for her to give me a nod of understanding and a quick thumbs-up. She lowers the motor’s whirring blades into the water.


As I walk, then run back up the dock, I hear Mom’s shrieks over the whine of the outboard engine. But soon they both fade away.

CHAPTER 39

NOW

Almost Heaven’s firebreak is easy enough to find by following the stragglers, mostly parents weighed down by small, pajama-clad children. In less than a minute I arrive at a large clearing surrounded by a wide ditch and a six-foot-high stone wall.

Sophia is standing just inside the circle, greeting people by name as they arrive. Her blond-haired assistant is making checks on a clipboard.

“David, there you are!” Sophia starts toward me, then pulls up short. “Where’s your family?”


What?! “Dad’s not here yet?”


“He’s part of the fire brigade, so I assume he’s dealing with the blaze. Where are your mother and sister?”


“We got separated.” I turn back toward the entrance. “I need to make sure Dad’s okay.”


“I told you, he’s fine. Why aren’t you worried about the others?” Sophia grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. I must be a lousy liar, because her eyes widen with horror. “David, what did you do? Where are they?”


“About halfway down the lake by now,” I tell her with a smirk.


“Are you—” Sophia’s hands shoot up, fingers curled in strangle formation. “You helped them leave? How dare you!”


“They didn’t want to be here. It was a sin to hold them captive.” I can speak the language of guilt as well as any preacher.


“They weren’t prisoners, David. This is their home! A home I built for them out of love and stewardship. A home you’re trying to destroy.”


“I don’t want to destroy anything. What you do here is your business, but when you took my parents away, you made it my business.”


The other Rushers inch closer, drawn by our shouts. Good. Let them hear what she’s done. Maybe they’ll change their minds and we can stage a mass exodus (assuming at least one mind-changer has keys to the boats).


“Your mother and sister would’ve loved Almost Heaven if they’d given it a chance.” She takes a breath and wipes her brow—the first time I’ve seen her sweat—then smoothes her shirt to regain her composure. “But I’m grateful you chose to stay and serve the Lord.”


Her piety literally turns my stomach. “I chose to look out for Dad. I couldn’t leave him alone with you.”


“David!”


My father’s roar would normally make me cringe, but I stand tall as I turn to face his wrath.


“Didn’t I tell you to go?” He stalks up to me in his rubber boots, his shirt dripping wet. “Where are your mother and sister?”


Despite my determination, I take a step back. “Gone. They’re safe now.”


“Why aren’t you with them?”


His deep voice makes my own stutter and crack. “When I— when I saw the smoke, I—I—”


“What did I tell you to do if you saw smoke?”