Amish Vampires in Space (32 page)

Jebediah’s hands were clenched. “
Rumaspringa
? We never practiced it on Alabaster. It wasn’t possible.” He motioned toward Lucile. “And she’s too old for that.”

Congi shrugged. “Well, perhaps you should have found a way. All that curiosity left unmet. Generations of it.” He nodded. “I’m sure you have some yourself. If you want, I can show you around later. Enlighten you.” He took another couple steps back, reaching his door. He worked the pad and heard it snap open. Smiled. Tugged Lucile’s arm. “Anyway, think about it, Mr. Miller. It was nice meeting you.” With one final pull, he brought Lucile inside and quickly worked the door control.

Lucile looked up at him longingly. She had no idea what was about to happen to her.

And neither did the man outside. Life had gotten so interesting. So incredibly enjoyable.

• • •

Samuel felt pain in his gut. He placed an elbow on the desk and rested his forehead against his hands. Savored the coolness of his own skin. He sighed, breathed a quick prayer, and massaged the scalp below his hat. Uncovered his face again.

The two deacons just stared at him. Waiting.

“David is cavorting with
how many
women?” Samuel shook his head. “How did I miss this?”

“Deborah says at least the Yoder sisters. But she suspects others.”

Deacon James nodded slowly. “I’ve witnessed him with other women. I didn’t recognize it as what it was. Wanted not to think evil of my brother. But now…”

Samuel straightened himself. Tried to shoulder off the burden. “And where are their husbands?”

“Both of them have been among the afflicted, Samuel.”

Samuel shook his head again. “Using their husbands’ weakness as license?” He looked up at the bay’s dark blue ceiling, a seeming ribcage of blue metal. “This ship…look what it has done to us already.” Samuel placed both hands on his legs. Pushed himself to a standing position. “We need to get to the bottom of this,
bruders.
And it needs to be now.”

He walked between them to the curtain and parted it. The bustle of people outside was noticeably light. He knew there were some training meetings happening and that the women were doing wash today. But still, it seemed light. He noticed the large sliding door far to the left of him. He heard a cow lowing. A worried bleat from a sheep or goat. All the dwelling curtains were pulled closed around them, though. Every interior a mystery. Closed off.

How had that happened? And so quickly?

He turned to Mark. “Remind me, which way is David’s dwelling?”

“I’ll lead you, Bishop.” Mark stepped around him, pointed to the left, and led that way. Samuel and James followed. The settlement dwellings were generally clustered in groups of ten, with five facing one way and five the other. Despite the proximity, the material the Englishers had used for construction was surprisingly noise-reducing. Seemed more so today, Samuel thought.

They passed row after row of dwellings. Occasionally they would pass an Amisher, but all seemed more stoic. Even the children. Two small girls passed them holding hands. They walked slowly and properly—as they should—but it was almost too slow. Too proper. The skips were no longer merely contained; they were non-existent.

Samuel felt another twinge of loss. How did I miss this change?

Lord, I underestimated Satan’s power. We should’ve stayed on Alabaster.

Finally Mark stopped at a corner dwelling. The curtain was closed, so he—as was the unwritten custom now—knocked on the exterior next to the curtain. A female voice bid them enter. Mark opened the curtain.

Within was a single woman. Deborah, Samuel thought her name was. She was seated on one of the dwelling’s two chairs. Tears streaked her face. “He’s not here,” she said.

“Where is he?” Samuel asked.

She shook her head. Wiped an eye. “I don’t know.”

“But where do you
think
he is?”

“He spends lots of time near the possessions now,” she said. “Near the crates and boxes.” Another dab at her eyes. “They all do.”

Samuel felt anger and sadness. “They.” He nodded at the other men. “Let us go.”

They passed four additional dwellings to reach the edge of the settlement. From there, they crossed the intermediary space to the livestock area. One of their older members was seated in the elevated “watcher” chair. He was slightly hunched with his hat resting on one knee. When he saw them approach, he raised a hand in greeting. Scratched beneath his chin. Returned to scanning the pens.

Samuel frowned, passed him by. After what seemed a long walk later, they reached the row of wooden crates and sealed boxes. The possessions had been arranged—with the Englishers’ help—in such a way that the most necessary supplies were closer to the settlements and lower to the ground. Easily accessible. He hadn’t realized how much of a metaphor that was: that the most important things are always the most exposed. Most open to anyone’s hands.

He reached the first row. It looked normal, so he turned and walked to the far right edge and then around it. Glancing down the interior row, he saw nothing unusual. “Perhaps he isn’t—” He squinted with a second look, and noticed that some of the crates appeared out of order. There seemed to be a large hole in the middle of the row. He turned and walked that direction. When he reached the hole, he paused and glanced back at the others.

“What is it?” Mark said, jogging up behind him. James came too, but with more effort and labored breathing.

Samuel was surprised at how little his joints were aching since he’d entered the ship. It was as if the air was lighter. That was one positive in a world of negatives.

He pointed at the hole. It was more doorway than hole, actually. The crates had been rearranged to give the feeling of a short, cave-like opening. “Looks like someone has made their own dwelling back here,” he said. “Outlandish.” He stooped to look inside, only to have the opening darken with the shadow of someone coming out. He stepped back, feeling righteous fire in his bosom. Straightened himself. James and Mark took supporting places on either side of him.

The person who exited was a woman, though it took him a moment to recognize her as one of their own. Her kapp was gone, and her dark hair hung free and loose over her shoulders. Her dress was a mockery of what the Ordnung required. It had started out appropriate, obviously, but the bottom had been slashed to expose one of the young woman’s legs. The shoulders and arms had been ripped off too, exposing more bare skin.

“Mary Magdalene Salter,” Mark said, “what is the meaning of your dress? You shame yourself.”

Mary smiled, looked down, and made a sweeping motion. “Don’t you love it? I’m so free.”

Another shadow moved at the opening. A second young woman—the other Yoder sister—stepped out. She was equally ribald in both dress and demeanor. Long blond hair being the most notable difference between her and her sister. She smiled at Mary and then clung to her, touching heads as they chuckled at a joke only they knew.

“Where is David?” Samuel asked.

Mary motioned toward the opening. “He’s in there. He’s busy.”

“Please have him come out,” Samuel said.

The other sister—Katie, he thought her name was—looked at the opening and shrugged. “I can ask him, but I don’t think he’ll want to.”

“Why not?”

She giggled with her sister again. “Because he’s
busy.
”

“Doing what? There are chores he could be doing. Training.”

She crossed her arms, swung her hips a little playfully. “He’s eating.”

“Away from his family?” Mark said. “Away from his wife?” He pointed in the general direction of the settlement. “The young woman we just left crying in her room?”

“Deborah’s an old coat,” Mary said. “A real horseless plow. Going nowhere.” The sisters giggled again, touching hands.

As much as he was trying to be merciful, Samuel could barely contain his anger. This was the sort of behavior he’d worried about most. The sort of situation he’d hoped to avoid. And a single day of David’s unsupervised absence had led to such a thing? The Englishers with their technology. What had they brought about? Samuel took a deep breath. Steadied himself. “I need you to bring David out,” he said. “We need to talk with him.”

Mary smiled, twirled her hair with a finger. “
I
could talk with you, Bishop. Discuss new things.” She brushed her bare thigh. “Show you things.”

For the first time, Samuel noticed the sweat on his brow. He wiped at it. Clenched his fists. Renewed his resolve. “David needs to come out here,” he said. “This instant.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Such a demander,” she said. “Look at him, sister, how absolutely rigid he is. How tight.”

“Think we could loosen him up?” Katie said. More giggles.

Samuel looked at the deacons. “Should we enlist his father?” he asked. “Abraham has always been reasonable.” Sometimes with the young men, it worked to treat them like they were still children. And Abraham was a big man.

Mary shifted her hips. “David doesn’t worry about his father, Bishop. He’s too much for that now.”

“Too much what?” Samuel scowled. The other men seemed as perplexed as he was. “What do my bruders think?”

“Go think somewhere e—” Katie looked at the opening. “Oh, here he is.”

Samuel saw another shadow in the cave opening. David’s head appeared first, followed by the rest of him. He wore no hat, and his beard was completely gone. His pants were still dark, though his white shirt was missing the top three buttons. The top of his chest was exposed. He wiped his mouth as soon as he straightened, drew a breath. “What do you want?”

“David,” Samuel said, “what has bewitched you? Why do you leave a wife at home and come here to associate with these—” he indicated the sisters—“married women. And all while their husbands are sick?”

“Oh, they’ll be better,” Mary said, fanning a hand. “Don’t have anxiety over that. Everyone will be better.”

“Ya, much better,” Katie said, smiling. “Much, much better.”

Samuel sighed. “Such disrespect, bruders. We never should’ve come. This ship—”

“This ship is excellent, Sam,” David said. “Incredible. We need a ship like this.”

“‘Sam’?”

The sisters giggled together. “The places we could go, David.” Mary put out a hand to stroke David’s hair. “The people we could meet. First says there are hundreds of planets. Billions of humans.”

David kissed her hand. “No one goes hungry.”

Samuel shook his head. “What has brought you to this, David? You openly defy the Ordnung?” He held his hands open. “Please, son, come back to us. We can talk this through.”

David chuckled. “Talk? Seems that’s all you do, old man. All my life, you talk. You scold, you warn.” He took a deep breath. “Smell that? It is freedom. And I’m loving it.”

Again, the women laughed.

James crossed his arms over his stomach. “You are asking to be shunned, David.”

David laughed louder. “Shunned?” He raised his arms, pivoted on his hips. “Look around, donkey. I’ve shunned myself.” More laughs.

When the laughter died down, Samuel heard a new sound. It was so soft and low, he was surprised his old ears could hear it. But there it was. An injured moan from somewhere behind the boxes. Within David’s new world. “What is that?” He took a bold step forward, toward the opening.

“Never mind that,” David said. “It’s one of the animals.” He indicated Mary. “She has a pet or two.”

“So you’ve stolen animals too?” Mark said. “Your father will be disappointed.
I’m
disappointed.”

“Father is sick,” David said. “For now. But he’ll get better. They always do.”

Samuel glanced at James, who only shrugged. If Abraham was sick, he hadn’t heard it. Samuel wanted to do something more here, but the Scripture warned that there were times to shake the dust off one’s boots and move on. With David, it was nearing that time. They would alert the family and the other elders, but shunning was a foregone conclusion now. For the sisters, as well.

Samuel found himself gripping his chest. Holding the pain in. It was an epidemic! How many more would they lose?

“Are you all right, brother?” Mark asked.

Samuel just stared at the floor, breathed a silent prayer. “I am fine,” he said then. But both hands crossed his chest as if he were keeping his innards contained. He motioned toward the end of the row. Slowly followed the others toward the way out. The path of light.

“Yes, it is time to go, old men,” David said from behind him. “We’ll find our own way from here.”

Seal felt suddenly uncomfortable. Like he was
standing in his bathing robe at an awards ceremony. Or as if he had just deleted the ledger containing the working man-weeks for every union employee on the ship. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “So you
are
like our passengers? A follower of someone long gone?”

Singer shifted in her seat, then glanced at her plate while squeezing the stem of her glass with her fingers. “I don’t think so,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “I mean, that’s not what I believe.”

Seal shrugged. “Well, I can’t claim to be an expert. I let you do most of the research, after all.” A smile. “So why don’t you explain it to me?”