Page 31 of Under His Rule

I shiver in place at the thought.

Everyone around me is eating, and it’s boring to watch, so I look at the people standing in line instead.

Suddenly, a woman with long, auburn hair who’s not wearing a shawl walks past the people standing in line, and I do a double take, blinking a couple of times.

Who was that?

I get up from my seat and take a good look at the woman barging around the hall, asking things from the husbands and wives quietly eating their lunches. She’s unaware of me, but I am fully aware of her presence and wonder if I’m dreaming.

Because I know that woman.

I know her … from before I came here.

My pupils dilate.

Emmy suddenly tugs at my arm, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes scream ‘sit down, or else!’ and I know she’s right, but I need to know if my eyes really did see that just now.

But when I turn to take another look, the woman is gone, completely vanished into thin air as though she never existed. Did I make the whole thing up? Was it a figment of my imagination created by my mind to ease the stress? Or am I losing it for real?

I sit back down slowly, contemplating whether I should try to find her, but Emmy’s steely eyes force me to stay. I know she’s not trying to be harsh, but it’s in her nature to comply.

I glance at April, who looks back with questioning eyes.

I wish I could tell her.

I wish I could scream it out to the world.

I wish it was safe to say …

That I think I saw my mother.

Chapter 12

Noah

A barking voice wakes me from my sleep. “Noah, get up!” Someone’s shaking me vigorously, and I blink a couple of times in response.

It’s Lawrence. The president.

I lift my head as he says, “She’s gone. She did it again.”

“What? Who?” I mutter, still sleep drunk as I lean up.

“Marsha!”

My eyes widen, and I immediately get out of bed and put on my bathrobe. “Where?”

“I don’t know, okay? She disappeared on me. Again.” He runs his fingers through his hair and digs his fingers into his skin. “Only God knows where she went.”

“Calm down. It’ll be fine,” I say.

“Fine? Fine?” he spits. “This is anything but fine! She is my wife, I demand her respect, and this is what she gives me? Insolence!” He paces around the room like a bear. “She has been nothing but problematic since day one. I should’ve never taken her.”

“I understand that, President, but please—”

“No. No more excuses. Find her. Now,” he barks, pointing at me, and he turns around and marches off.

Marsha has run off again. Typical.

Yet I know why.

Natalie

Everywhere I look, I see her.

I picture her. Imagine her … My mother.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. Was she really there at the dining hut? What if it wasn’t a fantasy my brain conjured up? Could I see her again?

I don’t know anything other than the orphanage I grew up in, with only the scarf and a few fragmented memories to keep me company. And then I get taken to this community and find her here, out of all places.

It can’t be a coincidence. I won’t allow it to be.

As we walk out from the dining hut, we hand the scarves that were around our mouths back to the elder standing next to the door. We go back across the path through the grass, but when the moment arrives that the girls are distracted by a few children playing in the sand, I duck out and slip off. I don’t run because that would catch the guard’s attention. Instead, I pace my footsteps and carefully plan where I’m going, as though I was always meant to go in that direction, as though an elder’s wife herself instructed me to do so.

But it is all a lie. I’m headed straight in the direction I last saw that woman with the long auburn hair walk. Out from the dining hut and into a hut across from another concrete building.

And I’m right … fucking … there.

I briefly look around before opening the door and slipping inside. I go inside and close the door behind me. All the curtains are closed, and no lights are on. It’s almost too dark to see, so I search around for a light switch, feeling my way across the wall until I find one.

I turn it on and look around. There’s no one here. It’s just a regular hut from some regular family who aren’t even here right now. I pick up the cloth lying on the counter. It carries the same symbol as my scarf, which is currently hidden underneath my bed. But this one smells familiar too. Like … someone I know.

Suddenly, the door creaks, and I scramble away, hiding behind a bunk bed. If someone catches me here, I’m dead.

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