Amish Vampires in Space (30 page)

“The Yoder sisters. I saw him talking to them. Laughing. Touching.”

Mark frowned. It was hard to imagine the incorrigible Yoder sisters agreeing over anything. Especially the company of a man. And all parties were married! Certainly it wasn’t so. “When?” Mark asked again.

“Last night.” Deborah looked at the ceiling, as if searching for the sun. “Last sleep cycle. He said he was going out for water and to relieve himself. But he didn’t. He was meeting with them. I saw them.” She pointed toward the stacks of boxes that lined the far side of the pens. “They were over there. Giggling.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know what else. There were…sounds.”

Mark held up a hand. “You don’t need to tell me more. I will discuss it with Samuel. We’ll meet with David.”

Deborah shook her head. “I don’t think I can stay with him any longer.”

First adultery, and now separation? “Let’s not do anything rash, Deborah. The marriage bond is most sacred. For life, as God intended. I don’t know what David is going through. Perhaps his time away has affected him somehow.”

“It was only a few hours. Not even a whole day. Are the Englishers so strong?”

Mark rested a hand on the fence. “Samuel believes so. It troubles him, I can tell.” Doe snorted behind him. Work waited. Always more work.

Tears formed in Deborah’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do…”

“Be patient. This is…” Mark shook his head… “something we will get through. Together.” He motioned toward the cow. “I will finish this and then go to Samuel. You have my word.”

Deborah looked him in the eyes. Nodded once. She then turned and walked away.

Mark watched her go. There was something here he did not like. Perhaps Samuel was right. Perhaps they really were inside Jonah’s fish.

Jebediah felt a hand on his shoulder, followed
by a hard squeeze. “Jebediah Miller,” Sarah said. “You need to leave that thing immediately.”

He looked up from the table with its ever-present void, much of which was now filled with text. Some of the spellings were different than he was accustomed to, but he found he could read it all right if he took it slow. Let his mind fill in the missing details. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.

It was early morning. Milking time, he knew.

Sarah was wrapped in a white floor-length nightgown, having just arisen from slumber. She stepped back, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot on the floor. “You should be studying the Word,” she said. “Or reflecting on the Ordnung’s wisdom. Finding a way to rectify yourself and return us to fellowship again. That’s what this time is for. What it is
supposed
to be for…” She leaned back against the bed. Even in the dim light, it looked like she might tear up. “I miss them all.”

Jeb nodded. “And you think I do not? I have many friends among them. I have animals I should be minding.”

“Yet you—we—stay here. Living among the Englishers. Dabbling with their devices. Eating their manufactured food.” She glanced down. “Who knows what that will do to our child?”

Jeb sighed. “The Englishers have children, Sarah.”

“Yes, but they are
used
to their food.” She shook her head. “I am not.”

“Sarah…” He stretched out a hand.

She shook her head. She would stay where she was. “I think highly of you, Jebediah. But I am unhappy with you.”

He attempted a smile. “Such seasons must happen. Like winter or fall.”

She scowled at him, shook her head, stared at the floor again.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I know I disappoint you.”

“Have you given any thought,” she asked, “any thought at all to what it will be like when we arrive? On the new planet…New Alabaster, or whatever they will call it?” She held up a hand. “We can’t be separated from everyone there. We can’t live on our own. I’m sure there will be winters. Droughts. Fires. Wild animals.”

“I’ll be armed,” he said. “I’ll build us shelter.”

Sarah shook her head. “Jebediah…” She breathed heavily and put both hands on her knees. She then leaned forward as if to make herself more comfortable. Probably it did help, Jebediah thought. Body changes. Sarah glanced up at him, at the desk. “What is it you’re reading? Not the Scriptures, I gather.”

Jeb turned toward the display of text. “No, I haven’t found them yet. Doesn’t mean they’re not there, though.” A smile. “But I
am
searching the past.”

“What past?”

He indicated the desk. “Their past. Their systems. The stars and planets they travel to. The places people live. I’ve even seen our new home. Beautiful place.”

“It is?”

“Ya. A gift, but…”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “But? There should be none of those. They promised.”

He sniffed. “No, not there. Not with the planet. I just never realized…” He sought Sarah’s eyes. “We’ve missed much.”

“Have we?”

Jebediah looked at the lights in the ceiling. He sniffed. “I don’t understand it all, obviously,” he said. “Don’t understand
much
of it, actually. But they’ve discovered a lot of ground. A lot of tillable land out there. Many more planets than were known even when the Lancaster colony was founded on Alabaster.”

“And they’ve filled them all with their things, I’d venture,” she said. “With their whirring gadgets and toys and tasteless food. Distractions from reality. From walking with Derr Herr.”

Jeb nodded slowly. “Ya, that is doubtless true. It is hard to see the Lord in any of it.” He shrugged. “But He must be there. That’s what Scripture promises: that He’ll always be there. Depths of sea or heights of heaven.”

Sarah shook her head. “But none of that is for us, Jebediah. None of it builds community.”

Jebediah sighed, looked at his hands. “I’m not so sure. I know more now.”

Sarah straightened. “Are you becoming an Englisher, Jeb? You’re troubling me.”

He sniffed. “No, I…”

“What?”

“Do you know, they can blend animals together? Like you making cake batter. A pinch of this, a scoop of that.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like cow mixed with pig? Or goat with chicken?”

“Ya.”

“Horrendous. Abysmal. Abominations.”

Jeb nodded slowly. “Though it isn’t new, this practice. Some of our animals were altered too over the generations. The original animals. The first ones on Alabaster. Made more hearty. Able to survive our world. Designed that way. So all along, we’ve been dependent on them to some extent. On what they’ve done. Even though we didn’t admit it.”

Sarah laid a hand on her stomach. “We’ve been eating abominations? I feel ill.” She shook her head. “But it was still our grandparents that cleared our land. That cultivated it.”

Jeb raised a finger. “Yes, but there’s more.”

Sarah stood and walked slowly past him. “Day lights,” she said aloud, and the room’s blue lights turned to a more violet shade of white.

Jeb squinted, frowned. “Some warning next time?”

“Like you warned me about your call to the stars?”

“Fair point, my frau.”

She rested a hand on her right hip. Made a thoughtful face. “I am hungry. Will you run and get me something.”

“But these cafeterias can provide all that we…”

She glanced down. “My feet are starting to hurt.”

The floors were soft and cushioned. But then Jeb remembered Sarah’s burden, put both hands on his knees. “Of course. I will. But I want to tell you more.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear more. It isn’t important. Not to us.”

He stood, took a step toward her, but she was already turning, shuffling toward the excretorium. “But I think it is,” he said to her back.

She stopped, turned. “So what is it, Jebediah? What
more
do you want to share?”

He found himself looking down. Examining the cloth and cushioned floor. Blue with dark patterns like the numeral eight. “There have been wars,” he said. “Ones that ranged from one planet to the other. In the space around the planets.”

“And that surprises you? The Englishers are always fighting over something. That is their nature. Part of the reason we separated from them. You know the histories.”

Jeb nodded. “Yes, but there were battles in our system. Not far from Alabaster.”

“Near us?”

“Yes, I don’t understand all the motivations. All the characters. But one warlord wanted to land on Alabaster, to take it. This was in our grandfather’s time.”

“Ya, so?”

“He was stopped. Sent away.”

Sarah’s hands found each other. Knitted nervously together. “So again the Lord protected us. As the Scriptures promise.”

Jeb moved closer, touched her elbows. “Yes, Sarah. Of course He did. But don’t you see?”

“See what?”

“When He protected us, He used them to do so. The Englishers! Even when we didn’t know. Even when we weren’t involved. They were fighting to keep us safe, and we never knew. Never thanked them.” He shook his head. “Many died to keep us safe.”

Sarah shook her head. “I think you’ve stared at that desk too long, Jebediah. I don’t see your point. But I am still hungry.”

Jebediah sighed. He walked to the cabinet nearest the door and opened it. Retrieved his hat and put it on.

Sarah watched him. “So what are you trying to say, my husband?”

“The Amish are lovers of our community, ya?” Jebediah reached for the door handle. Opened the door. “But now I wonder…perhaps community is larger than we thought.”

• • •

Samuel was again huddled over his desk. Still searching, struggling, for the exact words to give the people. Something to speak to their current circumstance. To unify them.

The story of Jonah remained foremost in his mind. Could he preach from that? In Jonah’s case, the prophet was specifically called by God to visit the heathen. To go to wicked Nineveh. It didn’t seem to apply here. There had been no call, only coercion.

Samuel knew more about the story of Jonah than most. Most ministers focused on Jonah’s disbelief and his unwillingness to serve. The reluctance of a Hebrew prophet to go to an unwashed Gentile nation. How cold, how unloving. Isolationist.

He remembered the brutality of the Assyrians, that road lined with pikes.

Every step, death would’ve been staring Jonah in the eyes, yes. But every stride also would’ve reminded him of why his people were different. Special. Chosen. Set aside.

Samuel turned in his Bible to the book of Jonah. Furrowed his brow. Perhaps it wasn’t so irrelevant to their situation, after all. He took a pencil and some package wrap he’d found in a corner of the bay, and he began to make some notes. Twenty minutes went by.

He noticed the curtain move. Mark stepped in, followed closely by James.

Mark’s hat was off and pressed to his chest. His face showed concern. “I—” A glance at James. “We need your guidance.”

James’s hat remained on. He nodded and smiled when he entered. A different demeanor than the last time he’d visited. He seemed to have regained some of his jovialness. Perhaps the Lord had brought him comfort. Reassurance.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” Samuel said. “I am preparing the sermon. I have some ideas.”

“I look forward to hearing it, but…” Mark dipped his head. Looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, this is a difficult matter.”

Samuel closed his Bible and folded his hands over it. Straightened himself. “Is this about the sick again?”

Mark glanced again James. “Sick? No, I didn’t know we had more sick. How many?”

“We’ve warned against rumoring,” James said.

“Have you come spreading rumors?” Samuel asked.

James smiled. “Nee. Our warnings have been effective, is all. And my opinions have changed. My concerns have lifted.”

Mark looked puzzled. “I see,” he said. “I apologize.”

Samuel nodded. “So why are you here?” he asked.

“We have a problem to discuss. A problem of sin.”

• • •

Seal felt different inside. Stronger. More alive. But also fragile. Insecure. Nervous. Working way outside his comfort zone. Out of his office, literally and metaphorically. Beyond any desk or schedule ledger. And the reason for his discomfort sat across from him, smiling and unaware. What a peculiar situation. Uncharted.

He and Singer were in the cafeteria together. Again. The third time in as many days. The cafeteria was purposefully homey. The walls were a medium green with mounted light fixtures. There were large ceiling fans over various portions of the room. And despite what most people pictured when they thought “cafeteria,” the room wasn’t a wide open affair. It was subdivided by numerous interior walls, creating dozens of partially obscured eating areas. Perfect for privacy. Perfect for intimacy.

Was that what he sought now? Intimacy?

How distracted he had become. The search for additional commendations had lessened. His quest to rise in the admiral’s estimation. Even their schedule seemed secondary now—a near blasphemy for the old Seal.

He forced himself to smile larger than he normally would. Tipped his head slightly forward. He watched as Singer sipped her drink and placed it back on the table. She looked completely comfortable. In control. The opposite of how he felt. Her hair fell in small perfect curls. Her lips were reddened but not excessively so. There was just the hint of shadow to her eyes. Her complexion was warm. She was dressed in a non-regulation blue dress, and Seal adored it. There were matching bands around her right wrist and left middle finger.